#even ignoring The Ending And What That Implies
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Hello ! May I request some angst 🥹 You and Sylus are fwb but you love him and later you catch sylus and mc having sex and you leave and he regrets it? Whether they get together or not up to you !
tags-angst no comfort,sylus pov,implied suicide
word count 1.8k
(note-if I went a little off script and you want me to rewrite pls lmk anon,when I get the creative freedom of an ending I always get so excited lol!🥹)
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You’d spent weeks trying to gather the courage to finally tell Sylus how you felt. What started as a casual arrangement had turned into something far more intense for you, with every moment, every stolen glance and every word he spoke weaving tighter knots around your heart. Tonight was the night you planned to tell him everything, to lay it all out and see if he felt even a fraction of the same.
You rehearsed the words over and over in your head on the way to his office, holding onto a shaky hope that maybe he, too, had noticed the subtle shift between you. As you walked down the corridor, anticipation and anxiety blurred together, making your pulse quicken with every step.
But when you finally arrived and opened the door to his office, everything you’d imagined, everything you’d hoped, shattered in an instant.
Sylus was there but he wasn’t alone.
The scene before you was like a punch to the gut, one that left you breathless and frozen. He was with the very woman he’d once told you not to worry about, the so-called “hunter girl” and they were wrapped up in each other, utterly absorbed, not even registering your presence. It wasn’t the fact of him being with someone else that hurt—it was that he was with her, here, in a place that had once felt like it was partly yours, and he didn’t even look at you.
A cold wave of realization washed over you, tinged with humiliation and pain. You’d come here with a heart full of hope and he hadn’t even noticed.
When Sylus finally glanced your way, there was no apology in his eyes, no explanation, not even the courtesy of a break in his actions. He looked at you almost dismissively, a fleeting glance, as if you were nothing more than an inconvenience and then, with a coldness you never thought you’d see, he turned his attention back to her, ignoring you completely.
In that moment, you felt something break inside of you, a part of yourself you couldn’t repair. A thousand emotions flooded through you—anger, sadness, shame. The weight of unspoken words, of all the feelings you’d held back, now felt like a burden you could barely carry.
Stumbling backward, you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. The realization that you meant so little to him, that he could simply disregard you like this, was a hurt that went deeper than words could express and as you left, the door closing softly behind you, you promised yourself you’d never let anyone make you feel this small, this inconsequential, again.
Sylus hadn’t planned for it to be this way. A part of him knew he was treading on dangerous ground the moment he let things go this far with the hunter girl, a lingering decision he could already feel weighing on his conscience. But he had convinced himself it was fine, that it didn’t mean anything—and most importantly, that you’d never find out.
But when he glanced up and saw you standing there, his heart sank.
The shock on your face, the confusion—it struck him in a way he wasn’t prepared for. He cursed internally. Of all days, why did it have to be today? Why did you have to see him like this, at his worst? A flicker of regret crossed his mind as he realized the full extent of what this would do to you. He could tell, even from a distance, that your heart was breaking in real-time.
For a split second, he wanted to call out, to explain, to reach for you. But guilt held him back, keeping him rooted in place. He’d never seen you look so vulnerable, so defeated and in his mind, he could already feel the words he’d rehearsed to you, the subtle hints he’d dropped over time—words that, he now realized, had only served to deepen your trust in him. That trust, something he had taken for granted, was slipping through his fingers.
When he looked away to continue the kiss and passion with that hunter woman, it wasn’t because he didn’t care; it was because he couldn’t bear to look at the pain in your eyes,he knew no matter what in this very moment he couldn’t possibly have the correct words to say.
It’s been a day since you’d walked in on him and yet, the scene keeps replaying haunting your mind. You hadn’t meant to purposely walk into his office unannounced; you’d only come by to tell him the truth—that maybe, just maybe, what you felt for him wasn’t so casual anymore. But the second you opened that door and saw him tangled with her, every thought, every word you had planned to say, fell silent.
The memory of it echoes in you. His indifference, the way he’d looked away when he finally noticed you standing there, stunned. He didn’t say a word, didn’t reach out. It was as if you were invisible.
You’d always told yourself you could handle this. You’d always told yourself that this was just a fling, something fleeting. But here you were, alone in your apartment, the reality settling in like a weight in your chest. You’d lost something in that room—something you’d never get back.
It feels like a betrayal, not just from him but from yourself. You’d let him into places in your heart that you’d sworn would stay locked. You’d shared things, vulnerable moments, pieces of yourself that you couldn’t take back. You’d given him everything—everything that mattered.
A soft, cold wind moves through the open window as you sit there, tears slipping down your cheeks. The city lights blur outside and somewhere in the haze of pain, you make a promise to yourself: no one would ever make you feel this small, this broken, again.
You reach for a pen, feeling the sharp tip against your skin as you press down, writing a reminder on your wrist. It’s a small vow but it feels like a lifeline. No one else will ever be given the power to hurt you this way. Not again. You’ll keep that vow to yourself, protecting your heart from the world outside.
The pen trembles slightly in your hand, heavier than it has ever felt before. But this is no ordinary pen; it's a relic of quiet promises and unspoken pains. Not just a tool for writing, it becomes an instrument, a bridge between the ache in your chest and the words you're too afraid to say out loud.
As you press it against your wrist, it's as if you're pouring everything unsaid into that red ink. The curve of each letter, the way it bites into your skin-it's a reminder, a vow you're making to yourself, a way to draw strength from this hurt. It's not just ink staining your skin; it's the permanence of a promise to guard what's left of your heart, a declaration that no one will be allowed to leave marks on your soul again.
The act is delicate yet deliberate, like the slow drag of the pen is creating a map of the pain you've endured, and perhaps the resilience that will follow. You feel the chill of the ink settling on your skin, mingling with the warmth of your blood beneath and the pain sharpens into clarity.
For the first time, in this quiet moment, you realize that the pen has become more than just a promise,It's a knife full of promises sinking into your skin;you’ll never hurt get hurt again from this world that once took so much without asking.
Sylus stares at his phone, frustration gnawing at him as he watches the screen flash with another unanswered call. He’s tried five times already but each time, the phone rings and rings, only to be met with silence. His fingers hover over the screen, ready to dial again, but his hesitation claws at him.
The image of your face keeps flashing in his mind. The look of shock, the raw pain in your eyes—it’s all he can see. It’s like a punch to the gut, one he can’t escape. He’s always been able to maintain control, to keep things casual but in that moment, when he saw the hurt in your eyes, the walls he’d so carefully built around his emotions shattered.
What the hell was he thinking? He thought he could keep things light, just a hook-up, no strings attached. But the guilt—God, it weighs on him like a hundred-pound anchor. He knows you never asked for anything more but the reality of how he treated you after everything—that—had started to gnaw at him. The hurt on your face, that unmistakable sting of betrayal, it’s all he can think about.
Sylus knows he’s not supposed to care. He’s supposed to be fine with this arrangement. But he’s not fine and it’s terrifying, because he’s never let anyone have that kind of effect on him before. But now, all he can feel is the burning ache in his chest, the overwhelming need to hear your voice, to apologize, to explain that he fucked up.
Why aren’t you answering?
He grits his teeth and stands up, pacing around the room, phone clutched in his hand as if it holds the key to fixing this mess.
He doesn’t know what happened. He thought he could just be selfish, just have you, keep you close in his life the way he wanted, without the mess of feelings. But you—you, with your eyes full of trust and warmth—somehow slipped past his defenses.
He needs you to hear him. He needs to tell you that he feels something more than what you agreed on. He just doesn’t know how. He’s never been one to show vulnerability, to let someone see how much they mean to him and yet, for some reason, when it comes to you, he knows he’s lying to himself.
Sighing heavily, he presses the phone to his ear again, dialing your number once more. The ringing sounds so much louder this time and with each ring, his frustration builds. Come on. Pick up. Please pick up.
But the call goes to voicemail and his shoulders slump in defeat. He leans back against the wall, staring at the phone in his hand, fingers curling around it tightly.
He can’t keep pretending this is okay. He can’t keep pretending it’s just physical. The feeling in his chest has become too strong and it’s not something he can ignore anymore.
His thumb hovers over the screen, typing a message that feels too raw, too honest to send. But he does it anyway.
“I’m sorry, I never meant to hurt you. Please just pick up the phone and let me explain”
The words feel insufficient, like nothing more than a weak attempt to fix everything that’s broken. But it’s all he can offer.
He throws the phone down on the couch, pacing again, this time with a much heavier heart. It’s the first time in a long while that Sylus feels like he’s lost control of the situation. And it terrifies him.
Now, all he can do is wait.
#love and deepspace#lnds sylus#love and deepspace sylus#l&ds sylus#lads sylus#sylus#sylus x reader#sylus x you
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The Krakoa Era Reading List Cherik Version (PART 3):
5. Hellfire Gala
This one confused me a bit since I expected it to be considered its own separate collection of stories. It was actually entirely contained within Reign of X. Not to be confused with the 2022 and 2023 runs which are separate and may be ignored for now. See the Part 2 of my Krakoa reading list for my thoughts.
6. Trials of X
The start of this series was my absolute favorite. You got the Trial of Magneto which was just a great story with lots of twists and fun characterization moments for Erik. It takes off immediately after the dramatic ending of the Hellfire Gala/Reign of X storyline, and you have the option to read only the parts with Magneto via the Trial of Magneto TPB. If you read this as part of the entire Trials of X collection there will be other side plots and issues dispersed throughout, which Charles and Erik will largely not be included in. Trial of Magneto is contained in Volumes 1-2 and Volume 3 is entirely skippable.
After this we get the continuation of the Nightcrawler/Legion vs Onslaught storyline, which was super trippy and a fantastic read. There are several mentions of Onslaught and Legion being half-brothers and Onslaught refers to his creators as "fathers" lol any mention of Onslaught being Magneto and Charles's lovechild just made me super happy. Legion's characterization in the Krakoa era is super endearing and there are several scenes where we get to see his unhealthy dynamic with Charles (mostly on Charles part lmao he is a terrible father, poor David was just tryna help 😭).
A moment of appreciation for these covers, I'm obsessed with them.
As for Cherik levels, the fact that their kid(s) are a large part of this story makes it worth reading, but we don't actually see Onslaught referred to as a son by either of them. He is more of a "thing" and a problem, which is fair bc he is literally the manifestation of both of their evils. There is a scene where the possessed!Erik is viciously protecting the possessed!Charles, which I really liked even though it was brief. Then the anti-Onslaught team (including Magneto) is chasing down a possessed!Charles cornering him in a clever trap designed by Legion. Once released from Onslaughts control we get this super cute panel:
Look at him holding Charles hand 🥰🥰🥰 They then immediately get vaporized and we hardly see them again for 5 whole volumes. Spoilers aside I really loved the solution to the Onslaught problem and thought the end of this arc was very satisfying! All of this was neatly contained in Volumes 4-5 of the Trials of X TPB, but there may be a collected version of just Nightcrawler and Legion's storyline that I'm unaware of. I hope so bc I really loved it and there's just WAY too many side plots that I don't care about even a little bit in the main collection. The Onslaught saga is distributed throughout Reign of X and Trials of X and it'd be great to see the complete story without interruptions.
As I mentioned, we then don't see Charles and Erik again until Volume 10. I had expected a resurrection scene bc they did both die but I guess that's implied to happen off screen? Anyways Volumes 6-9 I think there are literally only two panels that have either of them in it so safe to say you can skip those if you are only reading for Cherik.
Their inclusion in Volumes 10-12 are sparse with them mostly having their moments in Silent Council meetings and impersonations of Charles in the Hole™. They finally reveal what goes on in the Hole™ which was super interesting and worth reading imo. Also it's great to see them get along in these volumes, they finish each other's sentences and even when they disagree they are mostly civil XD
Overall some great stuff despite the long lull in the middle 👍 See the rest of my Krakoa reviews under #krakoa era reading list
#xmen#krakoa#cherik#marvel comics#krakoa era reading list#marvel comic recs#charles xavier#erik lehnsherr#magneto#professor x
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@ilovescarletwitch
My blog's name is Jedi Enthusiasm. All my posts are tagged pro jedi, pro jedi order, or Jedi appreciation. I speak constantly about how much I love the Jedi. I have written essays about how much I love the Jedi.
You are clearly a Jedi anti, or at least Jedi critical. So why on earth are you reblogging my post to throw shit about the Jedi?
I'm gonna ignore the shit about Anakin because people have already written essays about him and his relationship to the Jedi better than I ever could, so I'm gonna say this:
Mandalorians adopting orphans and rescuing children from dangerous situations? Mandalorians being honorable and accepting of their children no matter what? Mandalorians considering children sacred/the future?
We. Made. That. Shit. Up.
Canonically, Mandalore is undergoing reforms because they nearly destroyed their own planet.
Canonically, the Death Watch (which is the closest thing we have to fanon Mandalore) are terrorists.
Canonically, the Prime Minister poisons children.
Canonically, Mandalorians support the Empire until it comes for them.
Canonically, Mandalorians steal a peacekeeper's sacred weapon, the darksaber (because yes, Tarre Vizla was a Jedi), and use it as a sign of power and military violence.
Canonically, the only Mandalorian who actually opposes the Empire out of moral principles instead of convinience is Sabine. Sabine, who is a cultural rebel and has a Jedi as a father figure.
Canonically, Sabine feels alien in her own Clan because she doesn't support the Empire and doesn't fit the mold.
Canonically, all prominent Mandalorians are villains save Satine, her allies and Sabine.
Canonically, the Jedi are drafted into the Clone Wars, which they fight in despite everything to protect innocent people.
Canonically, the Jedi are the only ones to respect the clones' individuality and sapience.
Canonically, many Jedi put themselves in the line of fire to protect clones and civilians alike.
Canonically, Jedi are hunted down like animals.
Canonically, the Jedi are getting caught in a trap designed specifically for them by their ancient enemies.
Canonically, "the Jedi Code is like an itch, they cannot help it" and "their compassion leaves a trail."
Canonically, Jedi refer to each other as family (Obi-Wan tells Anakin he was his brother, Aayla compares Quinlan to her father, Ahsoka calls Sinube 'gramps', Reva calls the Jedi her family…) and act like it (Obi-Wan feels safe asking Mace Windu and Yoda for advice in AOTC despite him being a Knight, Plo Koon is known out-of-universe for being approachable, Anakin is on a first name basis with several Council members and jokes around with them…)
Canonically, the Jedi actively fought the rise of the Empire to the bitter end (Mace Windu and the rest of the Jedi killed by Palpatine), and many kept on fighting even after their near-extinction (Kanan, Cal, Cere…)
Canonically, the Jedi are very accepting of other cultures (several characters have cultural tattoos, Ahsoka and Shaak Ti wear a cultural headdress, many have accents which implies Basic isn't their first language, other characters don't speak Basic at all…)
Canonically, the Jedi fought and destroyed a slaver empire.
Canonically, the Jedi are kind, compassionate people who do their best to protect the people of the Republic.
There are no interpretations here. Zero. All of this is canon, it's all on screen.
If you knew nothing of Star Wars and had to decide which group were child stealers, who would you think it is?
Anyways, enjoy the block. One anti sneaking into my blog to spew bullshit is one too many.
When a Jedi takes in a child, it's kidnapping. But when a Mandalorian does it, it's a foundling.
#star wars#pro jedi#anti jedi bashing#in defense of the jedi#mando critical#anti mando#I love the fanon mandalorians and I love the potential of canon mandos#but they are mostly villains. I'm not afraid of that information#plus. don't several mandos ally with Maul who is a mass murderer (children included btw) in TCW?#i'm fucking tired#why are you Jedi antis invading MY space?#I'm not even subtle about my love for the jedi#it's in my name. nearly all my posts are about how much I love them!#jedi appreciation#jedi antis ignore my posts don't interact with me#I have anger issues very limited time and no patience for bullshit#so if you don't like me ignore me and move on with your life
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i think it's interesting how steph is like... the nerds see her as part of the popular group, and sure we see her talking to the cheerleaders a little, but other than that she doesn't really seem to be one of them in the truest sense? i could fully believe that she feels like the tiniest bit of an outcast there, like she's just cool enough for max to give her a pass but she doesn't really click with them that well. she feels to me like the bridge between the popular ones and the nerds, which is appropriate i suppose for her place in the story.
#idk i just keep turning this feeling around in my brain#that she doesn't Quite feel like she's actually proper friends with that lot#in my mind steph is pretty lonely before she starts talking to pete and by proxy the other nerds#like... i feel like the cheerleaders are friendly with her but they don't really Get each other#or enjoy each other's company That much#maybe even on their side there's some slight intimidation factor of her being the mayor's daughter and it's still a bit isolating#poor girl :(#but it's ok now she has real friends :]#... well. at least one. i honestly can't tell if pete and steph would even hang out with grace after everything#even ignoring The Ending And What That Implies#even if that didn't happen#i still don't think??? they would be besties with her#which is interesting for like. yknow. the main protag group who's been through everything together#npmd#nerdy prudes must die#hatchetfield#stephanie lauter
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i’ve said this soooo many times but i cannot believe the widespread fandom take on nightmares is ‘episode that proves john didn’t hit the kids or at least that sam didn’t know about :)’ NO??? that entire episode is to directly parallel sam to max??? i really hate to break it to you guys but sam being like Damn at least we weren’t and aren’t still being regularly beat to shit by the two male parental figures in our lives 🙏 lucky to have dad fr is not the same as him saying Wow i’m so grateful dad never hit us at all. essentially he is literally like ‘if dad had got drunk more often and hadn’t channeled his energy into hunting maybe we would’ve ended up like max. guess i should be grateful he didn’t”. hello. how does that endorse an entirely violence-free parenting style. like have your own interpretation. but the text of the episode isn’t saying John didn’t hit them. the text of the episode is intentionally bringing up the concept of john hitting them, withholding direct judgement/confirmation on whether it happened and keeping it ambiguous, sure, but still bringing it to our attention.
#Supernatural withholds judgement on everything so like.#it does it well in early seasons ambiguity is good! and. Less Well in later seasons#it’s also ironic cause like. i mean they were regularly Getting beat to shit via.#. monster fighting. neglecting to protect kids from physical harm also counts as physical abuse. btw.#but that’s like. the obvious takeaway#and so is dean’s little Look at the end of the ep which is obviously meant to imply that he doesn’t agree with sam. which. well#but like. idk it’s a widespread fandom idea too that if john did hit them he only hit dean. i even used to go by that!! but ur ignoring even#more subtext if u think that#and like#it’s Purposeful that the first psychic kid we see who sam very strongly identifies with#is a kid w a physically abusive father they write like this on purpose….#they do it again with sam in s7 too. him & amy pond r directly paralleled and we see her mom hit her on screen that eps what made me change#my mind re my opinion on this in regards to sam#anyway.#spn#oliver talks#winchester family dynamics#spn 1x14
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#lol i love seeing just straight up bullying on tiktok(/s)#someone(im guessing) went into a discord server for proshipping#and then posted their face reveals on tiktok!?!??!?!#basically saying: look how ugly and weird they look#like what the fuck#just bcs you dont agree with someones opinion ON SHIPPING#doesnt mean you should blast them on socmed?#they posted those pics in a trusted space :(#why are people so cruel and vindictive nowadays#people who make it their whole personalities to shit on pros OR antis are so embarrassing#just keep to yourself and keep your personal moral highground you know?#like they go low we go higher etc#cause on tiktok people will post very bait proshipper tiktoks#to the point where i honestly think they're 100% antis who just wanna sow discourse and disgust#like when i see those people im like just ignore them???#just dont engage man. you end up encouraging people to do worse and worse just to cause drama#but yeah antis in return will make all their posts 'correcting' these obv bait posts#like both of you get a life and just do things that make you happy. not things that obv upset you#idk it kinda sickens me how much time people devote to activities that clearly doesn't make them happy#even if youre pleased about dunking on people you morally disagree w +#wouldnt you feel happier engaging with content that yknow. fills you with genuine enjoyment?#not enjoyment fueled by disgust or morally superiority#idk some people feel like children so i shouldnt care too deeply. but the amnt of toxic behavior is so disturbing to me#the posting of faces got on my nerves badly. no matter if you disagree with someone#you shouldnt just straight up expose their face on your big acct BECAUSE OF DIFFERENCES IN SHIPPING OPINION#and the fact that the point is to imply they're all ugly. so fucking childish and disgusting#i reported but idk if that'd do anything. i wish i could have an honest dialog w people like that tbh#catie.rambling.txt
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Me, delusional, foaming at the mouth:
ISH ROUTE??? POTENTIAL ISH ROUTE? PLEASE?
#even if tempest#otome#just saying his love for norna is kind of what made him turn evil#so anastasia SAVING him and redeeming him through love would be A+++#and the game even implied it would/should happen! she literally told norna to leave ish to her#and then just... ignored him in purgatory to pursue her own happy ending#so we were ROBBED and deserve a proper route with him (and not just a Q&A session)#if nothing else i hope he's got a big role again because i want to see and hear more of him#tetsuya kakihara did GREAT work with him. i'm most familiar with fran from code realize#but holy shit he popped off in this role. there's just an energy to it - sometimes malevolent sometimes playful#and i just WANT MORE. ideally he gets a route but failing that make him a prominent character regardless#for the record i'm ALWAYS greedy for more love interests in any game#(in this game alone i also desperately want routes for maya and hugo for instance)#but he's one of a small handful who truly seems like he SHOULD have been and just. wasn't.#so until the FD comes out and shatters my dreams i'll hold onto hope
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yeah yeah i got recommended that Henry Cooldown analysis video whatever. i am still not over people comparing Henry to a medieval knight, NOT even taking the time to unpack that said mental image of a knight is 'mostly' associated with the British Monarchy*, an extension of its Empire that *checks notes* did a long list of atrocities like imperialism and colonialism, and also (multiple) genocides.
Henry is NOT British, he is Irish. Although considering the history of Ireland and how poorly the British Empire has treated them (amongst SO MANY OTHER COUNTRIES AND DIASPORAS), yeah it's NOT surprising that an Irish man like Henry is essentially forced to adopt quote on quote 'British sensibilities' to 'survive'. <- intentional imagery or not, the implications are not lost on me.
Like okay, calling out the comparison is cool but it sure would be nice if people went further to unpack what that means and implies in the long term. you know, like ACTUAL CRITICAL ANALYSIS?!
#I COULD do a whole essay about this. but i don't have the spoons to do so.#this is were i drop the big ball of information about me because fun fact! I am IRISH AND SCOTTISH. AND GREEK. so like.#so yeah i REALLY don't like the british#i hope in alternate universe i make youtube video essays about no more heroes and successfully argue how its about inter-generational traum#shallow rambles#nomoreposting#technically I was quite surprised by being recommended it. but looking at the comments i realised that their interpretation#is like the buy the books obvious surface level analysis of henry's character. not actually. thinking about the deeper things#behind his character. like. are we really going to ignore how his memories were wiped when he was adopted? okay.#to me henry is an example of someone finally confronting their trauma. how they cope is a whole other thing but henry is second#to jeane (the sister) that actually takes the time to confront the trauma although unfortunately this is mostly implied off-screen#travis BARELY acknowledges how fucked up it was for him and his siblings to be split apart and raised by different families#this got really fucking personal and i don't think anyone has actually cared enough to even consider the historical subtext#of these characters but that's just my take.#also i'm not fucking listening to a man explain to me what henry is. you know in a filmbro way. i have my own brain and interpretation and#that is all that matters to me. if you liked the guys video that's fine but honestly i am just not that interested in the essay.#you like henry for the rivalry trope. I like henry for other reasons that are open ended. we are NOT the same.#btw not EVERYTHING is about kill the past. it feels so reductive to ONLY analyse suda's work as a connected series#because it implies each one can't stand on their own merits!! that's NOT good analysis!! his work can stand on their own individually!#*about the whole knight and british monarchy thing there are other knights in other countries but unfortunately we only#think about knights in a VERY british-centric way. just thought to bring that up.#no i wont make a video essay about any of this i value my anonymity.#no i won't apologise for waking up and choosing violence today
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one day when i am not busy dying on the inside and out i will write an honest-to-god essay about how people are, for the lack of a better descriptor but simultaneously for the lack of a more perfect one, too edgy about five.
#like yeah five is an edgy game and the darkest in the series and gloomier than all of its predecessors but. i lack the words for it now but#there are important little moments in five where light shines through the carpet haphazardly thrown over a pile of garbage that oft get#ignored in favor of pushing the agenda that everyone in five is filth down to the core and that's just not true#i just- deeeeeeep sigh. people are so shallow sometimes man#this is how we get those characters that do not resemble the original in the slightest that either take one trait of the given character an#then bloat and exagerrate it until the character is a caricature of themselves OR projections of what the people would like these character#to BE in order to... be able to wrap their heads around them and their motivations more easily‚ i guess??#i don't know it feels to me like people just don't want to bother with the intricacies of complex characters and that's how the wood plank#versions of characters get created and then passed around ad infinitum#sweet grouchy baby boy who never did anything wrong ever. man who is either an innocent little big guy or satan himself. guy who is#objectively one of the most flawed individuals in the series being worshipped as a hero (griffith syndrome). guy who is either depicted as#an obnoxious playboy who only cares about getting laid and having as much skin exposed as possible at all times or the most vile man on#planet earth while being neither. the fucking. masochist cyborg thing. i'm gonna explode#oh and if you point out that there needs to be depth to any analysis of these characters if you are to do them justice you end up with a#gaggle of people saying oh yeah of course everyone in here is awful and they all have pig hearts#and i'm just wondering why this is the default conclusion most come to and not‚ you know‚ the thought that complexity does not inherently#imply rottenness but rather that even in the most horrible of situations you can find something good#i'm not the happiest or the most fortunate of individuals but i still refuse to believe in the idea of inherent evil that's being sold for#cheaper than a copy paper pack these days#but that has nothing to do with this my point is if you're trying to do media analysis you've got to look beyond... i don't have a word for#this... i guess you could call them fanmade stereotypes? no that's not it‚ my point is that people need to open their eyes to how complex#motivations and circumstances and human connection are and face that complexity head on instead of rubbing the story with sandpaper until#it's satisfiable to them#logs
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spends my last hour ranting about how the cod fandom replaces the only black dude on the team with some mULTIPLAYER CHARACTER not even in the main game. an hour well spent tbh
#also how they father/son duo lock his main would-be ship#despite it being just about a 1:1 to the fandom popular romantic ship banter wise etc#and the age differences between the two ships not even being that different#HMMMMM WONDER WHY WONDER WHAT COULD POSSIBLY BE DIFFERENT#that they are both ignoring a character and implying he's too bABY or whatever to be shipped with any of the others HMMM#im thinking it starts with a r and ends with an acism#like brother he is a 26 or so year old man and he fucks ok /sorry/. he can be more than the shallow son figure to the 37 yr old yall reduce#him to. like broooothhhhheeeeeerrrr#having this man have raunchy nasty military man sex in my head out of SPITE tbh#anyway gn im off at 430 tomorrow :(#cw negativity
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im doing one for shinon too bc he deserves it
shinon radiant dawn vc: my mom never hugged me
shinon path of radiance and radiant dawn vc: -treats greil like a respectable father and never mentions his own father literally ever-
shinon radiant dawn death quote: (smiling portrait) “Ugh... This is...such a crock... What a... boring way to die... Co... Commander... Greil... I... I... I'm...” (is he implying “I’m coming to see you again”, based on the quote and smiling portrait?)
#DCB Comments#shinon is one of those characters where the fandom focuses on one single negative trait#and they blow it up completely and pretend it's the only trait he ever has had and ever will have#meanwhile there's a gold mine of information you can figure out just by reading his lines and thinking about why he acts like that#like the whole want for money to live well when they're clearly not super well off mercenaries#or when he takes weapons from dead enemies and gets scolded for it but like can they even afford new weapons regularly?#the way he acts implies he grew up poor and has always been poor and STILL IS but he's there bc he cares about greil#and eventually came to care about everyone else and cares a lot about kids which they had rolf who rly respected shinon#he does what he can to help them raise money when they need it but fact is they always need it#in his quote versus oscar in chapter 18 oscar asks him if promotion is so important and he says it's everything#he clearly has no ill will toward oscar but for shinon getting promoted and getting money in that promotion will help him live well#he's tired of being fucking poor. he doesn't see an issue with wanting to live like you know a normal person should#but ofc everyone sees that he argued with janaff in two supports (which btw janaff egged on HARD and talked shit abt greil#and he also used racist rhetoric back at shinon so like... that whole argument was a two way street#but the fandom ignores that and just calls shinon racist even tho in their A support shinon specifically catches himself#from using a racist term and changes the term he uses so he's not being rude bc he learned he was wrong abt laguz through janaff#and janaff learned he was wrong about beorc through shinon. it was a very development heavy support chain for both of them#the fandom hates on shinon for ''being racist'' even tho he's one of the few non-main characters to actually get full development#and has a complete story from beginning to end between both games and comes out better for it)#i mean that's only a couple examples of things that aren't even hard to read into but ppl like to reduce him to one trait#and one trait that actually gets better and develops through both games. oh no a flawed character who has to have a development journey AAAA#guess what he's perfect specifically bc he's not a boring already perfect and flawless character#he has to get angry and get annoyed and learn from others despite being a grown adult. he has to have negative interactions to grow#he doesn't get to cling to the ADORED main character and get a gay paired ending and be loved for it#which no offense to soren that's not his fault that's the fandom's fault for treating them both the way they do for stupid reasons#i.e. would soren rly be so loved by the fandom if he wasn't tunnel visioned at ike#yes i will take forever to write this out slowly with my injured arm JUST TO GET THIS POINT ACROSS!#HE IS A FANTASTIC CHARACTER EVEN WITHIN THE TELLIUS CAST AND I WILL FIGHT FOR HIM11!!111!!!1!#also i wrote this earlier between those asks no im not that speedy lel. much less with a bandaged arm l e l
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ignore this i just wanna ramble in the tags for a sec i’ll probably delete it in a bit 🤪
#did an escape room with the fam on my sister’s birthday two days ago and my brother made me feel stupid the entire time#wouldn’t listen to me wouldn’t share or let me help and then act like i wasn’t helping (??? let me then)#and because he’s Loud my whole family was following his lead and ignoring me#but in the end i was the reason we won bc i was the only one who immediately understood the word riddles AND the one who wrote down#all the numbers he said we wouldn’t need. i was the only one who could connect the past information with the current problem#the only one who listened fully to the cd and decided to write down the locations without it being relevant yet#the only one who thought the tiny details might be relevant and the only one who automatically fixed his mistakes bc i noticed a pattern#and in the end still got no credit for anything (except from my mom) even tho if they had listened to me from the beginning they would’ve#been less stressed and finished sooner#then at the restaurant he didn’t listen to me again and we ordered too much even tho i told him we wouldn’t need it#THEN after dinner my grandma started texting me all frustrated telling me i need to keep my aunt updated on what’s happening thru the day#so she doesn’t feel left out. bc she’s having a rough time lately. bc it’s my job to make everyone feel better#FIRST of all this woman ignored me for years when her ex husband decided i wasn’t worth it#and now suddenly it’s my job to keep u informed on my every move so u don’t feel left out?? text me urself. ask what i’m doing.#ask HOW i’m doing??? do u even care beyond a ‘what colour is your sturdiness today namaste’#every time my aunt complains about the tiniest thing and starts crying about it it my grandma blames everyone else#no one even knows or cares if i’m having a rough time#she came to ‘help’ when my mom was sick and i did everything for her instead. and then she threw a fit when i wouldn’t eat her salad#when i was too exhausted from staying up all night with my mother to go on a run with her the next day#my mom finally got mad at her for implying i’m lazy all the time and told her i’m ‘neurodiverse’ and do things my own way and she didn’t#even know what that meant so my mom was like ‘on the spectrum ‘ and my aunt just got mad that she had never told her#would it have made a difference at all? would u have expected different from me?#meanwhile i’ve done so much for my cousin… including taking care of luca the entire time she stayed with us. i had him all the time#i didn’t mind. i love that kid more than anything. but everyone expects everything from me like it’s just a given#i talked her through every problem every breakdown walked on eggshells to keep her happy and then what does she do when she leaves?#ignores me. doesn’t come back when she said she would. complains that i don’t include her in things#bc sometimes i have quiet conversations with my sister so i don’t bother everyone#and then gg wants to know why i won’t come see her? why i won’t drop everything to fly there? my aunt wants to know why i don’t call?#because despite loving me u have made me feel inadequate my whole life. some of u more than others#and i’m tired. and it’s time for me to Be me For me without justifying it to everyone else.
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I think we need to sit down and talk about malgendering.
Not misgendering, malgendering.
We all know what misgendering means. Misgendering is when a trans person (or to be honest, even a cis person) has their gender denied to them in some fashion by implying, suggesting or outright stating that their gender is actually Something Else and not the one they identify as.
e.g. A trans woman being told she cannot attend a certain class because it's 'just for women'.
Malgendering is when the trans persons gender is not questioned or denied and may even be affirmed - but only in a context in which it can be used against them in some fashion (to make judgements on them as a person, to exclude them from something, to incite bigotry towards them etc).
e.g. That same trans woman taking her shirt off on a hot day and being arrested for indecent exposure.
This is misgendering;- "You're not a woman, you're a man." This is malgendering;- "Trans women are women, so obviously they exist to serve men."* *obvs it is also transmisogyny and all malgendering is transphobia.
But what you don't want to hear is that malgendering is a form of transphobia mainly used against trans masculine people and nonbinary people.
Most people recognise malgendering when it's;
Using the term 'theyfab' to ridicule an agender person or making jokes about how an agender they/them user looks (to you) to be a completely cis woman.
But you need to look out for how;
Malgendering is treating trans men like their transition has turned them into women-hating predators because of your own predjudices towards men/trans man were always inherently women-hating predators because maleness is what makes you those things not your actual thoughts, words and actions.
Malgendering is not listening to how trans masc people are marginalised 'because men aren't oppressed though' as if that's not ignoring a huge part of their identity (the being trans part) and how that works.
Malgendering is telling trans men 'this is just what it's like to be a man, people treat you like shit and you have to take it or not transition'.
Malgendering is insisting that any trans man who calls any attention to the fact that he is indeed, trans, and has/had female anatomy and faces misogyny due to being raised and still perceived (by transphobes) as a woman is misgendering himself, all other trans men and 'weaponising his AFABness'
All of this is transphobia. All of this is bigotry. This kind of predjudice and bullying doesn't magically become 'OK' once you find the 'right' group to do it to. You either want to end bigotry and transphobia and identity-specific targetted hate or you want to perpetuate it. But you can't call yourself a trans ally, or escape the bigotry allegations whilst malgendering people. And no you're not being sneaky by slipping in your hateful predjudice comments and actions whilst validating their gender.
Malgendering is transphobia.
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realizing my s/o might be a covert narcissist 🙃
#dear diary#she's been ignoring me for 5 days bc she didn't like that i voiced being hurt over something she did#only sent me one message that implied she was spiraling mentally and our argument had caused it#hasn't replied to anything i've sent since#and the thing is#i would have been panicked and apologizing and groveling if this were 3/4 years ago#but now she's done this so many times that i'm just tired#like#i can't even get angry anymore#i don't feel guilty like i used to even though there's a part of me that wants to believe this is my fault and i should have just said noth#but no#we've been through this too many times not to realize she does this every single time no matter how gently or calmly i bring up an issue#like “oh yeah so you picked the movie we watched last time so this time is my turn”#and she pouts and sighs and basically acts like it's the end of the world and passive-aggressively says she wants to watch this other show#and like yeah i'm usually down to compromise and give in and let her decide but i do that all the time#and she never does for me#so i was firm and said i really wanted to watch this particular movies#i'd had it in mind in particular because it was the holidays and a christmas movie and i'd been looking forward to watching it with her#and even told her so and she acted so enthusiastic#but then it's time to watch it and she guilts and emotionally beats me down into picking what she wants#and she does this with so many things#and acts like a victim if i'm firm or say no or just try to disengage from the situation or i calmly disagree#and especially if i bring up instances where this has happened before ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE#she gets defensive and lies and victimizes herself and tells me i'm overreacting and i have no idea how hard things are for HER#so why can't i just shut up and do things the way she wants to???#and then i end up feeling like i'm going crazy and getting defensive myself because she does this so much that i'm immediately tense#and trying to both be firm in how i feel but calm her emotions and her reactions#but she claims i'm the one being aggressive or being mean to her and “ruining our fun” because i'm not sugarcoating things
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go about things the wrong way
description. LOGAN HOWLETT proves himself to be a bit of a hypocrite
includes. SMUT 18+, age gap (reader is implied to be mid20s, logan assumed to be mid30s), protected piv, denial is a river in egypt logan fucks them younger, logan calls reader "kid", insomnia trope, slightly brat reader, remnants of angst, set during early x-men
wc. 5k
a/n: photo creds unknown. title from how soon is now? by the smiths
You should be in your own bedroom.
It’s a nice room, decorated better than your childhood room in your parent’s house, likely because you’ve grown since your mint green and chevron phase. It’s silent in your room, no other inhabitants except you and your pet fish that was somehow still hanging on. There’s no reason for you to leave your room, it has everything you need. But it’s not right.
The loneliness is uncomfortable amidst your inability to sleep. It hovers over your bed, staring down at your shuffling frame as you try multiple positions, each one leaving you as restless as the last. You know that’s why you venture off to the kitchen, the search for companionship outweighing the desire for a treat. You just need to talk to someone, remind yourself that you aren’t all alone. There are other people like you, and you live with them. You’re safe.
You ended up finding what you desired—a non-freezer burnt ice cream bar buried beneath frozen waffles, and a warm body to stand opposite of as you steadily made your way through it.
You wouldn’t admit it to anyone else, maybe not even yourself, but you had hoped to run into Logan the entire time. Ever since his return you had been itching to get a glimpse of him, but between shadowing Storm, Scott, and Jean, and tending to whatever menial chore Professor Xavier tasked you with, you didn’t have any time for run-ins. Nothing but quick passing in the hallway where you were too shy to do much other than meet his eye for a second, wave, and then scurry along towards the end of the hallway.
But you had gotten what you wanted when you heard the soft thud of feet followed by the sound of Logan speaking.
“Is there another one of those?”
You face him with your mouth stuffed with ice cream. It takes you a second to chew enough to speak around the food without making a complete fool of yourself in front of Logan.
“This is the last one …” you swallow, ignoring the sting of the cold at the back of your throat. “Sorry.”
Logan shrugs like it’s no big deal and he steps to the fridge. You move out of the way, even though you weren’t really in the way at all, and try to be casual as you chew the remains of your bar, ignoring the sudden warmth in your body now that he’s here.
Logan doesn’t say anything. You watch the top half of his body disappear as he reaches into the fridge for something, coming out after a minute and some soft shuffling later with a beer bottle in his hand. You don’t know when it got there, and you’re amazed that it was still there and not stolen by some eager teenager. You try not to stare as he takes his first sip, but you sneak a few glances.
You finish your sandwich, throwing the wrapper out in the drawer trash can and trying your best to ignore Logan’s eyes on you the entire time. He gets halfway through his beer before he says something.
Leaning against the counter, legs crossed at the ankle and one arm tucked across his chest, he asks, “Can’t sleep, right?”
You nod, not shocked at all that he has you pegged. It’s not unsurprising for a mutant in this place to be unable to sleep.
Logan nods as if he understands and you know he does, you remember the incident with Rogue just a year or so ago, that and the stories you hear about him wandering the halls at night. It’s why you’d always been so eager to slip down here during restless nights, constantly hoping that this would happen to you.
And now that it has happened, you don’t know what to do. There’s not much for you to discuss with Logan, the two of you don’t have all that much in common. He’s far older than you, for starters, at least a decade and a half on you from what you’ve gathered. He’s been gone for a while, but you think the others have caught him up on everything that he’s missed already.
So you just build onto what you have.
“I just can’t fall asleep. Every time I start, I shake myself awake.”
Logan takes a swig from his beer and pulls his lips tight, a face of sympathy sliding over his features—eyebrows pinched, lips downturned, eyes a little narrowed.
“Yeah?” You nod your head. “Sounds horrible, kid.”
Kid. You know you’re younger than him, it’s obvious, but you’re not a kid. You don’t see why he thinks of you that way. Rogue and Bobby are kids and you’re older than them. More mature, no longer a student but now practically a teacher.
You don’t want Logan to see you as a kid. You know what you want him to see you as, but it seems to become more and more impossible by the day.
You don’t say anything, lifting your foot enough to press the toe of your slippers into the cleaned grout between the tiles at your feet.
“Tell you what,” he begins, promoting your head to lift, “next time that happens to you, you come find me, alright? I know how much it sucks to be alone like that so if you need me, come find me.”
That’s what you did.
After you left the kitchen, finally letting your grin break free since no one was around to see it during the trek back to your room, you told yourself you would only go to Logan if you needed him.
You tried to sleep, snuggling yourself in a cocoon of blankets and pillows around your head. You lit a candle, counted sheep, made up scenarios to doze off (ones that definitely didn’t involve Logan tenderly holding your hand and stroking your cheek and—), but nothing seemed to work.
So you found yourself standing in the doorway of Logan’s bedroom, one hand still on the doorknob and the other toying with a loose thread at the bottom of your tee shirt. The bedroom is dark, save for the moonlight peeking through his opened curtains, but from the hallway light behind your back you can see Logan’s frame under the sheets.
His back faces you until you harshly whisper his name, which at the call of he lifts his head, looking at you, and then rolls over completely to click the lamp on his nightstand on.
“What’s wrong, kid?”
You feel so meek when you explain, like you are a kid, crawling to your parents after a nightmare.
“You told me to come find you.”
His squint relaxes. His entire frame relaxes actually. He sits up, jerking his head in a beckon. You click the door shut behind you as softly as you can, approaching the bed timidly until you stand on the other side.
And then you just hover. You stand there hesitantly, staring down at the slightly unmade side of the bed. Logan doesn’t say anything for a minute, but once the silence and hesitance stretches to an uncomfortable end, he speaks up, his voice groggier and raspier than it was before.
“You gonna sleep from there? Is that some mutant power that I didn’t know about?” He says it like he’s teasing you, and when you look at him you can see the small smile on his lips. It’s similar to the one he sports when he’s messing with Scott but with more softness in his eyes.
You scoff, trying to play it cool when Logan lifts the sheets for you and you climb under them. This side of the bed is cold and unused and you wonder if you’re the first person to use it.
You get as comfortable as you possibly can. You fluff the pillow and create the perfect indent for your head, you pull the sheets up to your shoulders, you lay on your side and face the window, and then when Logan clicks the light off, you close your eyes and try to sleep.
You don’t know how you thought this would be any better than struggling to sleep in your own bed, because it’s so much worse.
In your own bed, you were left with the out-of-reach fantasies of Logan. You laid in bed, giggling to yourself as you imagined what it would be like to lay next to Logan. You filled your head with blurry images of Logan’s frame, what he would look like with his eyes closed and his face completely relaxed. You tried to imagine the heat of his body in the cold of your room, trying to change your body temperature just with a thought.
But now it’s all right beside you, left there for you to catalogue so you could never forget this moment.
The feeling of his body so close yet so far from yours. The sound of his breathing. The smell of his body wash and the way it lingered on his sheets. You’re finally in Logan’s bedroom, but you’re not getting what you want. You truly don’t think you ever will.
It’s impossible for you to sleep now. You try to keep your tossing and turning to a minimum, only moving when absolutely necessary and doing so with tentativeness. You’re trying to be meticulous with your movements, all with a goal to disturb Logan as little as possible. You’re a guest here, after all.
But even if he wasn’t an attentive mutant you knew he would’ve eventually gotten fed up.
He calls your name, soft yet sounding like a warning, and you’re quick to apologize.
He doesn’t say anything else for a second, then, “Whatever’s on your mind, squash it. Jus’ let it go.”
You don’t mean to sound as bitter as you do when you say, “Easier said than done.”
Logan shifts and turns around until he’s facing you. You stay facing the window.
“What usually turns your mind off?” he asks. “A glass of warm milk?”
When you laugh it’s halfhearted and maybe this is the final indicator that something about you is off.
“Look at me.” You obey embarrassingly quickly.
You can’t really see him in the dark, but the white light from outside illuminates the slope of his nose and the apples of his cheeks. You can sort of see his eyes too, the usually light green darker because of the environment, but the shadowy fan of his eyelashes is as distinct as usual.
“Seriously, tell me what’s going on. Anything I can help you with?” He lets the question linger in the air for a second before adding on. “You need me to rough a few kids up? You being bullied?” He says it like a joke.
“No,” you say.
Logan makes an ‘ah’ sound. “Yeah I’m sure you could handle yourself.” The sheets lift again. “Come ‘ere.”
Shit, shit, shit.
You listen to him, scooting closer until you’re wrapped in Logan’s arms, enveloped in his warmth. It’s nice and comfortable, the sound of Logan’s heart right next to your ear, the security of his arms wrapped around your frame.
“Does this help you?”
You hum affirmatively, already starting to feel more comfortable than you had before. Your heart beats painfully hard in your chest and you start to get self-conscious, knowing that Logan can definitely hear it.
Right on cue, he laughs a bit against your head.
“Nervous?”
“No.” God, you’re so obvious.
Logan’s laugh grows until he’s snickering, doing a terrible job of stifling his laughter. “‘s alright,” he eventually says. “Nothing wrong with that.”
You make yourself as comfortable as possible, pressing your back to Logan’s chest, trying to ignore the hard feeling of his body behind you. You can basically feel everything, the plane of his chest pushing through his tee, the ridge of his sweatpants against your lower back, his legs against yours—tempting you to intertwine them together, his feet hanging right under yours. You’re not exactly dressed for this and your shirt has ridden up, bunched at the top of your ass and exposing your panties. You wonder if he knows. You wonder if he cares.
This is helping you a lot, but there’s still something on your mind. Something you need to solve before you can go off to sleep.
You don’t know what it is that makes you confident, that makes you want to ruin a good moment. Maybe it’s the dark providing you comfort, but you lay it all out.
“You treat me like a kid.”
Logan takes a second. You can just barely make out the hitch in his voice. “...Yeah?”
You’re glad he can’t see you when you pout. It wouldn’t have done much to help your case. “I’m not a kid, Logan. You don’t treat Rogue like a kid.”
“Rogue is different.”
“How? I’m older than her.”
“Just … can we not argue?”
“We’re not arguing.”
“Yeah? Then whaddya call this?”
“A conversation between two adults.”
He hums as if he’s unconvinced.
You won’t let it go. “How is Rogue different?”
“Go to sleep,” he admonishes.
“Can’t. Not until you answer my question.”
Logan sighs. “‘cause I’m not attracted to her, alright?”
Oh.
Oh.
Wait … what?
You’re sure your silence is enough to express your confusion because Logan adds on.
“I’m trying to set boundaries between us, kid—”
“Don’t call me that.”
He corrects himself with the use of your name instead, but it comes out the same way. “We need boundaries between the two of us. You think I don’t see how you look at me? ‘s not good.”
“If you’re setting boundaries why did you invite me in here.”
“Because I wanted to help you.”
Why is he making you feel crazy? He just told you he’s attracted to you, but he wants to set boundaries? There are barely any boundaries here. You’re alone with him, in his bedroom, tucked away at the end of the hall surrounded by mostly empty bedrooms instead of bedrooms of asleep mutants, curled up against his chest. This is the most opportune time, yet he didn’t want to make a move.
Maybe you were reading too much into it.
You go to pull away from Logan’s embrace but he keeps you pulled tight to his chest.
“Don’t do that,” he says it like a command and just to piss him off you consider pulling away. But you’re really comfortable and this is a comfort you aren’t sure you’re ever going to find again.
“Just go to sleep, alright,” he says your name again, much softer this time. He says it like he’s coaxing you like your name is the final tune in a lullaby.
Maybe Logan has other powers you aren’t aware of because just that one sentence is enough for you to let it go and submit to the sudden exhaustion that settles over your body like a weighted blanket.
You don’t know if Logan’s been avoiding you. Mostly because you’ve been avoiding him.
It’s not often that the two of you would have to run into each other, but there were a few times when Professor Xavier extended the invitation to observe an upcoming class, and you declined upon learning that Logan would be subbing.
You kept your distance as much as you could, even keeping yourself locked up in your bedroom throughout the night, no matter how restless you got. You were miserable, not only because you wanted to be near Logan, but because you were fucking exhausted.
You could barely stay awake throughout the day, always sneaking off for power naps, taking whatever you could get even if it was only five minutes.
But you finally have the rest of the afternoon to yourself and you intend to use it to sleep. Uncaring of how much it threw off your sleep schedule, you just needed a solid half hour curled up at the foot of your made bed like a dog, sleeping to your heart's content.
Of course, it’s on your way up to your room that you run into Logan. You try to ignore him, continuing your path up the stairs, praying that Logan will continue on his path downstairs.
You don’t know what it is about you that says come talk to me! but Logan stops in his journey, turning to face you. He calls your name, continuing even when you don’t respond. He follows your trek up the stairs and down the hallway, always right on your heels and within arm's reach.
By the time your hand reaches for your bedroom door, Logan is practically breathing down your neck.
You know there’s no avoiding him now, but you also don’t want to.
You stand still, hand wrapped around the doorknob, waiting for Logan to say his piece.
“Why’d you lead me to your bedroom?” The way he says it, with such arrogance and assurance woven into that same joking manner as if he wasn’t the one who turned you down just a few nights ago.
“Fuck off, Logan. I just wanna get some sleep.”
You twist the knob and this is what wakes Logan up. “Okay, wait.” His hand reaches out and rests on your elbow. Just this one touch strikes you still. “Will you look at me?”
You turn around, trying to keep your gaze hard even as you take in his appearance for the first time in days.
The bags under his eyes, the relaxed smile that’s constantly on his face when he’s around you, the thickness of his eyebrows, the points in his hair. You’re staring at his hair, wondering if it’s naturally like that or if he does it himself, and when you look at his eyes again there isn’t a connection. He’s staring at your lips instead.
You lift your eyebrows impatiently, already imagining the sleep you’ll get after you ruminate until you can’t form a coherent thought.
Logan opens his mouth. “Look, I’m sorry if you got a little hurt from the other night. Is just this age gap and your little crush is not gonna wor—”
You’re already turning around, deciding whatever else he’s going to say isn’t important at all, but Logan stops you. His movements are fluid, they flow naturally from his body and straight into yours, causing you to move with a coordination you didn’t expect. He spins you back around and pulls you straight to his chest, your hands flying to his shoulders to steady yourself, while his hands rest on your hips and your cheek.
The movement is quick, it happens within a couple of seconds, and it makes the moment after feel so much longer. Nothing but shared blinks as Logan looks at your lips and you look at his. You’re so close to him, even closer than you were the other night, but neither of you makes a move.
You’re considering making the first move, opening your mouth as if to ask him a question that was still unknown to you, but then Logan’s grip on your cheek tightens as if he’s holding you still and he moves in closer, and closer, and closer until his lips ghost over yours.
In the end, it’s you who crosses the bridge.
Your lips touch, sandwiched together, but neither of you do anything. Not until you take a tiny step closer, really nothing but an adjustment of your feet, is Logan pulling you into him. He digs his fingers into the waistband of your jeans, that one hand possessing all of the aggression that doesn’t exist in the hand holding your cheek.
It’s like the touch of two different men—one who wants to devour you whole and the other who wants to treasure you. You hope that they’re able to coexist as you desperately want both.
You let Logan kiss you feverishly, an intensity unlike anything you’ve ever seen him display settling in his lips. The Logan you knew was always relaxed, walking around the mansion with a carefree, practically laissez-faire, attitude. He didn’t meddle, he kept his hands to himself, always wrapped around a cigar or a beer.
But now those hands were wrapped around you for the second time this week.
You press your hands into the shoulder of his white tee shirt, starting to slide them up towards his hair before you resist. You want to get comfortable kissing him, but you’re still out in the hallway.
Having the same thought, Logan pulls away from your lips with enough time to open the door, latch his hands onto your hips, and blindly steer you backward until you’re in the room. He stares down at you the entire time, that same smirk on his lips as he kicks the door closed behind him with a single boot.
And then he has you pressed against the wood, sandwiched between a rock and a hard place.
He looks at you for a second, his gaze lingering, and then he gets back to it.
If even possible, Logan has more passion this time around. He sinks his hands to your thighs, pulling one up by his hip. He slots his legs into the opening until your center is hovering over his thigh. You don’t know what to expect, but when he flexes the muscle and presses his limb right up against you, you’re already trying to get more.
Logan smiles as he kisses you, clearly entertained by your anguished need to get off. He doesn’t verbally reassure you, he doesn’t help you grind yourself down, he doesn’t do anything but continue kissing you.
When you need to come up for air, knocking your head back into mahogany as you intake large gulps, Logan dips his head down and explores as much skin as he can. He creates a path of kisses from your jaw, down your neck, to the exposed parts of your chest.
You tilt your head down, locking your hand into his hair and trying to redirect his lips back to yours, but he stops you with a hand pinching your cheeks.
His eyes flick back and forth between yours, nothing but mischief and arrogance in the green. You wrap a hand around his wrist with the initial want to tug him away, but you like the hold he has you in. You like the look in his eyes.
“Good?” His voice is softer than his grip.
You nod, trying to grin as best as you can when your lips are forcibly puckered.
Logan smiles right back at you. “You got a rubber?”
You nod again, scurrying to your nightstand once Logan lets you go. He tells you to get on the bed and you take the liberty of throwing your shirt off and bra as you go. You have enough sense to step out of your shoes, unclasp your jeans, and tug the zipper down in the path.
By the time you’re sitting on your bed, you can feel the anxiety thrumming through your body. It’s a good kind, the kind you’ve been seeing less and less of lately. You’re still a little tired and still desiring a solid nap, but it can definitely wait. This is your main priority.
Logan speaks to you as he undresses.
“You still doing okay?” he asks as he’s pulling his tee over his head. When you nod, he moves to his belt, thick but deft fingers undoing it and leaving it hanging open and hooked into his belt loops.
“You tell me if you wanna stop,” he says as he pulls his jeans down, stepping out of them right after he steps out of his boots. You give him a look and he clocks it immediately.
“You think you can take it, bub?” He laughs. “Yeah? Don’t you think you’re talkin’ a big game?”
Petulantly, you roll your eyes. “Logan, I’m not a fucking kid, I’ll be fine.”
Wrong. So, so, so stupidly wrong.
You are fine, but the sight of Logan’s dick sends nerves down your spine. You’ve talked yourself up, you can’t go back, so you do what you can. You let him peel your jeans and panties off, hoping you look as seductive as he does. You keep your eyes on his abdomen, tracing the vein that runs from the right of his navel down to his cock, breathing as well as you can while Logan lines himself up. The first push burns, just like you expect it to, but you adjust quicker than you thought. Eventually, all you can feel is pleasure. You’re so full when he’s only halfway in you. You feel stuffed as soon as he bottoms out, his heavy ball sack resting flush against you, a thick forest of pubes pressed against your cunt.
Logan is so much, it’s everything you’ve ever wanted and more. Hovering and staring down at you as his hips rock into yours, slowly and experimentally at first. It’s not until you draw a leg up over his hips that he increases the strength of his rocks.
He has one hand keeping himself steady and the other holding your waist. It’s so intimate, and not only because he’s fucking you, but because he’s staring down at you the entire time, his teeth bared as he watches you for every single reaction. His eyes rake down your body, watching the way your tits jiggle before dipping lower to watch the way he’s entering you. You can’t see his gaze, but you can feel it, the weight of it comparable to the weight of his cock in you.
There’s an inhuman nature to it, hidden deep below the surface as if he’s trying to hold back, but it’s there. You’re made aware of it when you clench around him and he growls. It comes from the back of his throat but it’s a sound you’ve never heard before. It’s so Logan, you don’t think anyone other than him could make a sound like that as erotic as it is. You want to hear him more, you want your moans to blend together amongst the four walls of your bedroom, but he keeps his sounds to himself. It’s like there’s a disconnect between the both of you, like Logan’s still holding back even though he’s balls deep in you.
“Logan,” you whine, getting his attention. He looks at you with concern in his eyes, his hips slowing down. You shake your head, pushing more towards him. “Please,” you beg, praying he knows exactly what you want.
“What? What d’you want?”
“More.”
Logan gets rougher. He’s grinding up into you like his life depends on it, blunt nails delving into your skin as if he wants to break it. You wish he would. You aren’t regenerative like he is, but you still desire the broken skin, the beads of blood, the marks left behind.
You’re thinking about it, eyes lidded and falling closed when Logan knocks his forehead into yours once. He moans, closed-mouthed as his head lolls to the side, a shiver shaking him from the bottom of the spine up.
“Jesus, baby,” he says. It’s all he says, but it’s more than enough. He keeps going, digging his tip into you deeper and deeper until it feels like he’s swimming in your guts.
He drags his head down until he can wrap his lips around one of your nipples, licking and sucking before moving on to give the other one the same treatment. You desperately want him to mark you up, you want a reminder that this—the thing you’ve been wanting since Storm and Scott came back with two new mutants in tow—actually happened. Bravely, you reach out and tangle your hand in his hair, surprisingly softer than you thought it would be. You don’t hold him down much, just enough to communicate what you want nonverbally. And then after a few tortuous seconds of hesitation, his lips wrap around the skin atop your left breast and he sucks. The strength in it stings, it reminds you just how strong Logan is, but it feels so good.
Unexpectedly, you feel your muscles seize. It starts in your tummy, deep down near where Logan’s been massaging, and then it just doesn’t stop, likely because he doesn’t stop.
It’s like he’s spurred on by the feeling of you cumming, motivated by the way your back arches and you reach for the heavens as you clench around his cock.
He gets a burst of energy, fucking you like he has something to prove when really it’s you with something to prove.
You’re overstimulated, struggling to keep up with Logan, but you don’t want to tap out. You talked a big game, you can’t back down now. So you remain silent while Logan pulls another orgasm out of you, hoping he won’t notice the way your eyes brew tears without your consent and the way your lips quirk with the impending request to slow down.
Of course, he notices.
He’s grinning with sympathy—you don’t know if it’s sincere or faux—when he takes a hand and strokes your cheekbone.
“I see ya, kid. Feels good, yeah?”
For some reason, when he calls you kid like this, you don’t completely hate it.
There’s no point in lying, so you nod.
“So tight,” he winces, eyebrows pinched together as he flashes his teeth, a dimple in his right cheek appearing with it.
Just as you didn’t warn him before, he doesn’t warn you when he cums. You feel it though, the way his thrusts get sloppier and faster just before he gives you one punctual one, and then you feel the confined warmth of his cum shooting into the condom.
You wish you weren’t as exhausted as you were, because the next time you’re conscious, it’s dark out and the bedsheet is covering your body. You’re hot, hotter than you usually want to be when you’re sleeping, but you’re bare naked. That and you only have a thin sheet covering your body.
It doesn’t take much investigation to figure out what’s making you so hot, not when it’s attached to your back with one meaty bicep slung around your neck and keeping you pulled against him. It takes you a bit to fall asleep, but once you do, you’re out for the rest of the night.
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do you ever think about how darcy's perspective of the visit to rosings is just... a completely wild time. so like. he and his favourite cousin goes to visit with his weird aunt, and ends up running into this hot girl, that he's really kinda increasingly into? she's staying in the area for a while with her bestie. so like. he was expecting a boring social obligation visit & getting pressure into marrying his other, less favourite cousin. instead, he watches the hot girl hold her own with his aunt in conversation. she banters with him over the pianoforte and they have a Moment™. he keeps going over to the house she's staying at, just to awkwardly chill there, even though he doesn't like the other people there. has a whole conversation with her about how she wouldn't mind living far away from family, as long as she could afford the travel. he extends his visit so he can keep seeing her. when he runs into her on a walk, she makes a point of detailing the exact route she prefers to take while out walking, clearly encouraging him to join her, so he does. he has a really nice time on these walks, they spend a lot of time in companionable silence, but he manages to flirt a little by implying some stuff about the future & what their married life could be like, and they have some conversations about that. and sure, she has some family baggage, but none of them are around so it's a lot easier to ignore, y'know? so eventually he just can't take it anymore, and he shoots his shot. she clearly values honesty so he explains his scruples as well, but he thinks she's been dropping some favourable signals, so he's got a good chance, right?
and then not only she turns him down she ROASTS THE FUCK OUT OF HIM. she insults him. she insults his honour as a gentleman. she flips the fuck out about... oh yeah crap the sister thing, turns out his cousin blabbed, and then I'M SORRY YOU SAID WHAT? ABOUT WICKHAM? THIS IS ABOUT FUCKING WICKHAM, MY FUCKING NEMESIS? HE FUCKING SAID WHAT ABOUT.... OH MY GOD. oh fuck. I've fucked up so badly I need to reevaluate my entire life & risk sending a letter to an unmarried woman who hates my guts, just so i can explain shit. fuck.
#jane austen#like#pride & prejudice#adaptations really downplay how much darcy was genuinely flirting with elizabeth for like half the time#and she was just. clueless#wait no that's emma#she was not perceptive#but they’re well suited because darcy?#also not perceptive#(shhh it’s the Autism)
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