#even though I'm itching to writE

[reginrokkr]

Fun times approach with two exams back to back tomorrow and Thursday, although the former is way more concerning than the latter. So no activity for tonight from me sadly, I will do my best to peek in tomorrow and the rest of the week as I'll have some time to have a break. Hope you peeps are doing well ♥︎

[benevolenterrancy]

Scholarly peak is catching up on recent literature

[trilliath]

Soooo...how are you liking bg3? 😁

I've had this game for twelve days

[ismyteadoneyet]

How fortunate am I to have so many Things to love and be excited about, to appreciate and look forward to?

Things I feel so strongly about that they stumble into my mind, univited, at random times of the day? Things that spill into my speech and vocabulary without me noticing? Things that impact my vision to the point where everywhere I look, everywhere I go, I see ghosts of them?

How lucky am I to have so many Things I love and cherish enough for them to reshape my very person, change my beliefs and make me grow? Things that make my own loved ones see the Things out in the wild, and go out of their way to make sure I see them too?

How wonderful is it that I have Things that I love so much that the very act is deemed and dubbed "not normal", making my love for them seem like it's more than they are supposed to recieve? An out-of-the-ordinary and above-the-norm appreciation for the Things that make the people around me shake their heads, call me "silly".

My dear, beloved Things, may I always stay silly for you ❤️

[jichanxo]

sunday six ✌

tagging @four-white-trees @passthroughtime @overdevelopedglasses @skysquid22

decided to get back to my itokura-kitakata fic again! here's the two of them arguing about whether romance belongs in mystery fiction, lmao

“There’s no objective way of reading a text, and no objective way of interpreting one either. ‘Objectivity’ is just an idea made up by boring people who think mystery fiction should be logic puzzles and nothing else. If that’s what you want from mystery, just do a crossword or something. Intellectual stimulation, with no frills. That’s what you want, right?”

“Ugh, you’re just impossible.” Itokura threw her hands up in the air. “You don’t get it.”

He leaned closer, focused. “What don’t I get? It sounds like you’re the one who doesn’t understand.” 

“You don’t understand the beauty of an elegant trick. All this extra stuff just obscures it. It’s cheap.” She raised an eyebrow. “And what are you saying I don’t get? Love? And you’re saying that you do?” 

Kitakata floundered at that. He forced himself not to glance over to where Yagami��was at the computer, talking to Amasawa, lest he make everything obvious to Itokura. Besides, he wouldn’t know what he’d do if he found Yagami looking right back at him, listening to their conversation. 

“That’s not what I was saying.” 

“Then are you going to explain what you meant, or are you going to keep beating around the bush?” 

[thatbuddie]

oooooooh the fic idea i've just had. ooooooooooh.

[landinrris]

Do you have any plans on a new Norrix drabble? Maybe about there first call/meeting after Landos first win. I love the way you write about them 🥰

I am (technically, even if it's been a few days) writing a thing about the birthday Insta Story mishap from last week. All that needs to be written for it is an opening scene.

I just got home from a bit of a writing weekend I had for myself, wherein I really only focused on one of my bigger projects for efficiency. I'm about to involve myself in completing an eight-week milestone in my degree in the next month and a half, so I'm trying to finish this Carlos/Lando fic rather than attacking smaller Martin/Lando ideas right now. Unless of course, the Martin/Lando itch resurfaces before the longer fic is done, but for now, my project priority list looks like: -Carlos/Lando artist!Carlos part 3 (2/3 way finished) -Martin/Lando hiding in plain sight thing (1/4 finished) -Crackpot Martin/Lando/Carlos thing (1/? finished)

With the random drabble interspersed here and there pending events that happen/inspiration. All that being said, I have thought about a phone call following Lando's win, so I'm noting it down to be sure I don't forget.

[trans-leek-cookie]

can someone teleport me to the poolrooms and shoot me so my blood is staining the pristine tiles and water. Nothing should be alive there

[willow-lark]

Hiya Lark! For the bbb ask game 2, 7, and 11 please n thank ya!

hiya lex!

2. Give the first line of this chapter/fic.

She sweeps towards him with her indigo blanket speckled with silver, starry pinpricks like glittering sparks that follow her like ducklings across the sky.

i gave this in another ask, so here is the second line instead 👀 EL LOOKING LIKE A QUEEN EVERYONE HYPE HER UPPP 🙌👑

7. What is your favorite scene you’ve written so far?

i don't want to give it away bc my favorite scene is THE pivotal scene of the fic 🤭 but i shall just say that i love DRAMA and i love being EVIL. so. 😈 stay tuned!!

11. What scene are you most hyped for this chapter/fic?

i am now realizing that i have not like. stated anywhere what my actual au for this fic is 😭 but i'm just about to write a scene where will goes to war and i am sooo excited for all the s1/canon callbacks i'm about to write 👀

[sceletaflores]

I COULD PLAY THE DOCTOR (I CAN CURE YOUR DISEASE)

pair: logan howlett x fem!reader

wc: 4.1k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, established relationship, logan's pov, written with origins!logan in mind, nat veering dangerously closer to a/b/o territory with every passing day, rut cycles, oral sex (fem!receiving), fingering (fem!receiving), multiple orgasms, gratuitous amounts of dirty talk, p in v, rough sex, biting, hair pulling, size kink, belly bulging, pussy pronouns, one (1) single use of the word daddy, scent kink, pain kink, breeding kink ofc, knotting (don’t look at me…), squirting, porn w/ plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: don’t look at me…i don’t know how many times i swore up and down i’d never write something like this but i’m a confirmed liar apparently so…here. i mean i just figured i'm in a rut artistically so therefore the only answer is writing logan in a rut physically...i can do what i want and i don't need to explain myself or my horny thoughts. also, i debated posting this in the wake of everything that's gone down over the past two days that is still escalating and will continue to escalate in the coming weeks, but i think everyone could use a little escape from how scary things may seem right now. take a break from all the terrifying news sites and read about logan wanting to breed you :) kisses!

divider by angel @saradika-graphics!

it's been another six months, and logan needs your help...

The burn starts on the walk home from work, a pulse of heat deep in Logan's gut that grows with every step.

It spreads slowly, sinking into his muscles and seeping up his spine as he rounds the last corner, your place less than a block away now.

It caught him off guard this time, an itch burying itself under his skin earlier in the day only to get worse and worse as he worked.

He usually knew the signs well enough to feel them start creeping in, and he was dead sure it wasn't for another few weeks.

Apparently, he was wrong.

Logan’s jaw clenches as he picks up his pace, every nerve ending in his body straining to break into a full blown sprint at the thought of you, all alone and waiting for him.

His fingers curl into tight fists, nails pressing into his palms to ground himself, though it’s hardly enough. The faint scent of you drifts up from his shirt, not even a long day at the lumberyard enough to drown it out.

By the time he reaches your door, his heartbeat is a heavy thud in his ears, syncing with the building ache of desire wracking through his body like the earth rattling boom of a raging thunder storm.

He fumbles through getting his key into the lock, hands unsteady as he tugs the door open with a little more force than necessary and finally steps inside.

The second he closes the door behind him, the heat surges, thrumming through his veins and flooding his chest. Your scent fills the air completely, stronger now, wrapping around him so thick and sweet.

"Darlin'?" His voice comes out rougher than he intends, but he's beyond caring.

Your voice floats from the other room, casual, warm enough to send a jolt through him. Logan drops his axe from his shoulder, leaning it against the door as he starts down the familiar path to your bedroom.

You're spread out on his side of the bed—oblivious, curled up with a book, wrapped in one of the flannels he must have left the last time he stayed over.

Just the sight of you does something to him, like a match dragged against a strike pad, damned on setting everything ablaze.

You glance up, and the soft smile on your lips falters as you catch sight of him.

Logan knows what he must look like, his eyes all dark and predatory, chest heaving as he rakes his hungry gaze over you like a wolf watches a lamb grazing too close to its den.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just stalks toward you with a purpose that’s as undeniable as the heat pouring off him in waves.

The book slips from your fingers, forgotten, as you lean back, the small sound of your breath hitching under the weight of his gaze is music to his ears.

Logan pauses at the edge of the bed, towering over you, letting himself drink in the way you look. So soft and serene, like some kind of invitation that begs him closer. His flannel draped loosely over your shoulders–shrouding you in his scent. 

The urge to pounce on you fights against his normal instinct to savor every second, to draw it out until the heat pooling in his gut becomes downright unbearable.

“Been thinkin’ about you all damn day,” he mutters, voice thick and dark as molasses, rough from restraint he’s quickly losing. His knuckles brush against your thigh, then tighten, holding you in place as he leans down, his breath hot against your neck. “Thinkin’ about what I was gonna when I finally got my hands on you.”

Your skin blooms with warmth beneath his touch, and he grins against your neck, the edge of his teeth grazing you just enough to make you squirm. He growls low in his throat, that itch he’s been fighting nearly all day clawing its way up to the surface with a vengeance.

The primal urge inside of him screaming to claim claim claim take take take mate mate mate breed breed breed.

You tilt your head to the side with a soft sigh, freeing up more space for him to nose along your skin. “Is it time?”

Logan's breath catches as your question hangs in the air, thick with anticipation. The soft simplicity of it ignites the wildfire burning in his gut, every ounce of restraint slipping away like sand through his fingers.

“Yeah, baby,” he growls, slipping his fingers under the worn cotton of your shorts, feeling the bare skin beneath. “It’s time.”

You shift, hands going to the buttons of his flannel like you’re going to take it off. Logan stops you, taking your wrists in his free hand.

“Don’t,” he breathes, shaking his head hard enough that his hair flows with it. “Leave it on.”

The thought of you covered in his scent, of his scent mixing with yours to claim you on a level only he can discern sends his mind buzzing.

You look up at him with those wide, trusting eyes, and something in him cracks wide open. The tenderness of your gaze pulls at him, like a tether pulling him back from the edge, but that heat still smolders in his blood, fierce and unyielding.

Logan runs his thumb along the racing pulse of your wrist before he drops them. His hands venture lower, fingers pressing against the inside of your thigh, tracing a deliberate path that makes your body tremble under his touch.

You let out a shuddering breath, the scent of your arousal swirling through the air is enough to make him crave more.

In one rough tug, Logan yanks you towards the edge of the bed as he falls to his knees. Your hips held tight in his hands as he lurches forward, burying his nose in the soft junction where your leg and inner thigh meet.

He inhales deep, greedy lungfuls of your scent. A guttural growl rumbles through his chest, his eyes screwing shut at the sheer amount of too much that courses through him. He feels dizzy with it, high on the pheromones pumping from you in waves.

You’re soaked already, the wet fabric of your shorts melded to the shape of your cunt. He can’t help but run his nose along the slick seam of you, reveling in the way your legs twitch on either side of his head, in the short gasp you let out.

“Logan.” Your voice is nothing but a mewl, pleading and desperate.

“Missed you,” he rasps, his voice rough, almost unrecognizable. The edge of need in him makes his hands shake, sliding up your thighs, urging them even further apart as he settles between them.

Logan’s fingers dig into your skin, he lets his thumbs brush up, hooking them into the waistband of your shorts to tug them down your legs in one sharp yank. He groans at the sight of you completely bare, no underwear.

“Fuck, look at you,” he grates, his thumb coming down to slip through your dripping cunt. Your hole flutters desperately around him, needy little clenches like it’s trying to suck him in. “She’s all ready for me, huh? Been waiting for me to come home and give her some attention?”

“Please,” you whimper, your voice thick with longing, the sound going straight to his head, clouding his thoughts. 

Logan’s pulse races as he watches your body arch instinctively toward his touch, the desperate need in your eyes igniting the raw urges coursing through him.

He can’t deny you; he never could. You’re a feast laid out before him, and he’s starving.

Logan leans closer, letting his tongue flick out to taste you like he’s wanted to since he left for work this morning. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, closing his eyes and losing himself in the moment. He licks a broad stripe from your entrance to your clit, savoring the way your body responds, the way your legs tremble and your hips twitch against his mouth, seeking more. “Tastes like fuckin’ heaven, sweetheart.”

The taste of you is intoxicating—sweet and tangy, flooding his senses with every drag and swirl of his tongue.

Logan can’t help but moan against you, the sound vibrating through your body as he dives deeper, his nose nudging against your slick entrance as he shakes his head back and forth like an animal—rubbing the plush skin of your inner thighs red and raw with each rough drag of his coarse beard.

Every flick of his tongue sends a shockwave through you, and he revels in the sounds you make—each whimper, each moan, a siren’s call urging him deeper. He laves his tongue around your clit, sucking it gently, pulling at it with his lips as you writhe beneath him, begging for more. 

He keeps your thighs spread wide, two strong hands pinning them to the mattress so he can devour you just the way you deserve, the sharp dig of your heels into his shoulders only spurs him on.

Your hands bury themselves in his hair, tugging him closer, and he groans into you, letting his tongue delve deeper, seeking out every bit of sweetness he can coax from you. 

It’s pure sin, each sound you make, each shiver that runs through you as he takes his time, drinking you down like a man starved. 

The ache in him intensifies, his own need growing, pulsing. He’s hard, has been hard since he walked through the front door.

His cock strains against the zipper of his jeans, need pulsing in time with each pump of his blood through his shaft, circling around the base, threatening to expand even without the tight grip of your pussy surrounding him. His hips jerk up on their own volition, desperate for any friction.

“Just like that, Logan,” you gasp, voice breathy and trembling with pleasure. 

The way you say his name—raw, desperate—makes his blood run hotter. He grips your thighs tighter, anchoring you to the bed as he drinks you in, wanting to lose himself in you completely.

Logan pulls away just long enough to catch his breath, looking up at you with lust-drunk eyes, drinking in the sight of your sweaty cheeks, your heavy-lidded gaze, the way your chest rises and falls with each shuddering breath.

The pulse of his cock intensifies, urging him to speed things along. The base desire of his own instincts is getting harder and harder to ignore under your adoring stare.

He feeds his fingers into your clenching hole with no warning, a satisfied smirk tugging his lips up at your sharp gasp. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip, the entire lower half of his face still shining with your essence.

Your cunt swallows him, two thick fingers sinking into the velvety heat like it’s nothing.

Logan groans as he feels you clench around him, your walls fluttering and drawing him in deeper. “That’s it, baby,” he mutters, his voice hoarse with need. “So fuckin’ ready for me, so ready for daddy’s fingers in your pussy.”

Your mouth drops open in another devastatingly desperate noise, your hands twist his hair roughly, soft breasts rising and falling each time you gasp for air. The dim light of the sunset filters in through the blinds, highlighting the curves of your body, slick and shining with a thin sheen of sweat.

Every clench of your walls around his fingers shoots a thrill straight to his cock, making him ache with the urge to bury himself inside you. The overwhelming need to take you completely, to mark you and fill you, pulses through his veins until he feels like he might explode.

But he’s not done tasting you yet. Not until you’re practically dripping onto the sheets.

He lowers his mouth back to your core, sucking your clit into his mouth as his fingers pump faster. The sudden intensity makes your thighs shake around his head, and he grins against you. He wants to see you fall apart—wants to feel it.

“Logan—please, I…” You can barely get the words out, voice breaking as your whole body strains against him, desperate and needy.

The wet slap of his palm against your spit soaked cunt is loud in the quiet of your bedroom, blending with the loud keens that fall from your parted lips. He crooks his fingers, rubbing at that soft, spongy spot inside of you.

“Come on,” he mutters, slick lips brushing against your clit as he speaks. “Give it to me, baby. Show me you're ready for my cock."

He drags the sharp edge of his canine against your pulsing clit with barely any pressure, and you're coming.

Your whole body tenses, back bowing off the mattress as you let out a broken cry of his name. The bite of your nails digging into his scalp feels harsh enough to draw blood, a feeble attempt at grounding yourself against the onslaught of pleasure. 

Your trembling thighs tighten around his shoulders, gripping him like a vice as your shaking cunt gushes around his fingers. Logan groans at the feeling, eyes slipping shut as you drench his wrist and chin in your juices.

Even then, he doesn’t let up, fingers pumping relentlessly as he draws out every pulse, every aftershock of your climax, every tiny spray of your release splashing against his wrist. 

He’s lost in the feel of you—slick and trembling under his hands, the scent of your release filling his lungs, thick and intoxicating.

You slump back against the bed, body limp and spent. His own need is a driving, aching force now, clawing at his insides, demanding more.

He slips his fingers free from your dripping heat, dragging them through the wetness coating his chin as he licks them clean with a growl, savoring every taste.

“Good girl,” he purrs, voice thick with pride and satisfaction as he pulls back, leaving your thighs twitching in the wake of his touch. But he still isn’t finished. Not even close.

You barely have time to catch your breath before Logan crawls up the bed, his eyes locked on you, pupils blown with need. He looms over you, hands planting on either side of your head. His cock grinds against you through the rough denim, and you can feel just how thick and hard he is, throbbing through the fabric, demanding to be freed.

With a low groan, he shifts his hips, dragging his bulge along your soaked cunt, sending another jolt of pleasure racing through you. His hands are all over you, gripping your waist, hot and possessive.

“Feel that?” he asks, pressing his lips the wild flutter of your pulse, the need to sink his teeth in the soft skin of your neck raises the hair on the back of his neck. “That’s what you do to me baby. Got me hard as a fuckin’ rock, just aching to be inside you.”

Your arms circle his shoulders, clawing at the fabric off his shirt. “Need you inside me, Logan. Please, want it so bad.”

The pure need lacing your words, your scent calling out to him, the way he can feel the front of his jeans getting soaked through with the slick pouring from your cunt all pull him deeper into the recesses of his hind-brain. 

The mounting desperation to stuff you full of his cock finally reaches a fever pitch.

With a deep growl, Logan rears back as far as he can bear, just enough to tear his shirt over his head before he fumbles with the heavy buckle of his belt to free his aching cock.

He shoves his jeans down, boxers quickly following until there’s nothing separating him from the cool air of your bedroom. His cock springs free, hot and flushed an angry red color, drooling from the tip enough that it drips down to stain the pretty floral sheets of your bed.

Your eyes zero in on him, mouth dropping open at the sight. His cock so heavy it doesn’t curve upward to slap against his stomach, instead it hangs down to sway between his thighs as he moves closer. 

Your legs spread as he nears, slick covered thighs parting to make room for him to slot between them. So obedient, so good, so well trained.

Logan takes himself in his hand, nearly wincing at the blazing temperature of his skin. He secures his hand around the base, squeezing where his knot threatens to pop before he’s even got in you.

He slips the angry head through the folds of your cunt, slapping it against your clit with a wet ‘thwack’ sound. He can feel the way it twitches and shakes, just as desperate as him.

“Look at that,” he mutters darkly, eyes glued to where he’s laid his cock flat against your stomach, leaking pre-come all over your soft skin. “How’s it gonna fit, baby?” He shifts his hips, sawing his length back and forth to see just how deep in you he’ll be.

Your glassy eyes drop, a broken moan passing through your slack lips when you take in the sight. Your hips rise off the bed, grinding your cunt along the seam of his heavy balls, along the prominent vein trailing up the underside.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Logan grits out, eyes hooded and dark as he watches you grind against him. “You’re gonna take it all. Gonna make you feel every last fuckin’ bit of me.”

He groans, gritting his teeth as he presses in further, each inch a battle against the tight, molten heat that grips him like a vice. Your body shudders as he fills you, your slick warmth pulling him deeper and deeper, and he sinks down until he’s fully seated, his hips flush with yours. 

The pressure is mind-numbing, your walls clenching around him in rhythmic pulses that make his vision blur. He stills for just a second, savoring the way your body stretches around him, hugging him in a way that feels like it was made for him alone.

Logan watches your face as you adjust to the stretch, your brows pinched together, each breath coming fast and shallow, your eyes glazed with pleasure.

Then, your hands come to his shoulders, nails digging little crescent moons into his skin as you nod your head, ready.

It’s all the confirmation he needs. His hips pull back before he slams in again, the force of it jolting your whole body. He presses his forehead to your shoulder, teeth bared as he muffles a snarl against your skin.

Logan thrusts again, and again, and again, hips setting a merciless pace as he watches the way your breasts bounce with each thrust, each little shudder.

His mouth waters with the need to taste, to sink his teeth into your supple skin hard enough to pierce clean through, hard enough to scar.

Sweat drips down the length of his spine, across his brow. It mats down the hair scattered over his chest, his dog tags slick with it when they bounce off his skin with each thrust. The grip of his hands tightens on your hips, it’s taking everything in him to hold back and yet he knows you’ll still bruise tomorrow. 

Pretty hues of dark purples and yellows in the shape of his fingers, ones he’ll catch you admiring in the bathroom mirror, pressing your own fingertips into them to feel the dull ache—to remember this moment.

“Made for this, aren’t you?” he rasps, his voice dark and possessive. “Made to take me, to be mine.”

The words barely leave his mouth before he’s bending down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your cries as he drives into you, pushing you both closer to that sweet edge.

“Fuck, Logan,” you gasp, breaking the kiss as your body trembles under him. “Can–ah!–can feel you in my stomach…”

Your hand drops from his shoulder, slipping between your bodies to rest over the sweaty expanse of your belly. Logan’s eyes follow your path, a feral growl bursting from his chest before he can stop it.

He’s transfixed by it, sure that if he pressed his hand to the soft skin of your lower stomach right over your own, that he’d feel it. Feel the way his cock punches up against your insides, so deep it's like he’s rearranging your guts to make room.

“Fuck.” His voice is nothing but a gravelly rumble, hoarse and dark as midnight. His hips speed up impossibly faster, chasing the feeling of your clenching walls choking the length of his cock so tight he thinks it might snap off at the base.

The flimsy headboard of your bed slams against the wall, creaky mattress springs screaming under his ministrations.

You feel like salvation, like the first rays of light after too many years spent in the dark.

He feels it with each kiss of his cock against your cervix, in the way your lips fit in the junction of his neck, in the red welts your nails leave on the skin of his back. He feels alive, truly alive, for the first time in decades.

“Say my name,” he grates, his hand cupping the back of your neck, coaxing you to look up at him, lips close enough to taste the heat radiating from his skin. “Tell me who you belong to.”

"Logan," you gasp, your voice breathy, edged with desperation as he pushes you closer to the brink. "Yours. Only yours."

A broken, shaky noise falls from his lips as he buries his face in your neck. He mouths at your skin desperately, presses his nose to where your scent is the strongest. 

Flashes of his release spraying your insides play behind his closed eyes, thoughts of drenching you so thoroughly that it has to take only forcing his hips to slam against the rippling muscle of your ass like you have your own magnetic pull. He feels it building, the slow swell of his knot presses against your folds, ready to burst.

“Come on, honey,” he begs, thumb coming down to rub slow circles over your slick clit. “Come with me, soak my cock. Show me how much you love it, how much you love me.”

Pathetic little uh uh uh’s fall from you with every thrust, broken up only by the breathy whines of his name as he pounds into you hard enough to push your body higher up the mattress. Finally, with a loud roar, he stuffs his growing knot inside of your cunt. 

Logan’s teeth sink into your neck before he can even think twice about it, the thick spray of his come filling you as his hands pull your hips down even further over his cock. He needs to be as deep in you as possible, to press forward until he can’t anymore, until his aching balls are flush with your gushing cunt.

He watches with rapt attention as you come with a loud wail, just from the feeling of his knot slotting into place. The clamp of your thighs over his hips is nearly as tight as the way your cunt seizes around him like it’s scared he’ll leave.

He groans at the over stimulation of your cunt milking his cock. Your slick leaks around the base of him, your shaking hole plugged so full it can only slip along the creamy ring to splash weakly against his thighs and hips.

Logan licks along the spot where his teeth pierced your skin, planting one last kiss before he’s taking you in his arms and rolling onto his back atop the mattress. The plush comforter sticks to his skin, your own sweaty body slipping against his as he tries his best to not jostle you too much while keeping you stuffed full of his cock.

He holds you to his chest until your breathing evens out, until your body stops trembling on top of his, until you’re nosing along the column of his neck.

“Logan?” Your voice is tiny, hoarse and scratchy. He feels your hand drawing absent minded shapes along the skin of his stomach. A circle, a star, a figure eight, a heart.

“Yeah baby?” he says, pressing his lips to the crown of your head, eyes slipping shut at the content feeling that spreads through him.

“Love you,” you murmur, voice soft but sure, the words slipping out without hesitation.

It’s the first time you’ve said it today, and hearing those three words from you sends warmth flooding through him.

Logan shifts slightly, pulling you even closer, his hand moving to the back of your head, cradling you with a kind of tenderness he used to think he’d never be capable of. “I love you too, darlin’. More than you know.”

Your body relaxes against him, the lingering effects of your shared intimacy still buzzing through your limbs, but now there’s a sense of peace, of safety, and a deeper connection.

He can feel the way your fingers curl lightly against his skin, the quiet smile that must be tugging at your lips as you press a kiss to the side of his neck.

And in that moment, with everything settled around him, Logan knows that this, right here, is everything.

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[gingermintpepper]

I read this post and nodded my head before pausing because no, actually I don't think I agree with it, mostly because Hyacinthus wasn't 'reduced to be known' by his premature death and Icarus' death is one of the most important part of his tale.

With Hyacinthus, I think in modern times, there's definitely an over-focus on Hyacinthus' death and the tragedy of his fate but historically, Hyacinthus' festival was one of the biggest, elaborate events that was capable of halting wars in order to be observed. Hyakinthia didn't just remember Hyacinthus' death, it remembered his life, his death and his rebirth and thousands upon thousands of people for many many years adored and celebrated him. People travelled long distances just to hear his story and participate in his people's remembrance of him and that's an aspect of his tale that has been thoroughly lost in modern depictions of him. Hyacinthus is only 'reduced' by his death if one thinks his death is the most important part of his tale when it's never been. Hyacinthus' story traditionally has always been about love. Is it frustrating that there isn't more recorded about him considering how prominent he was in his region? Yeah, absolutely it is, but the feelings and traditions those people observed still exist and have been passed down in his stories. It's never been just about death.

Icarus, on the other hand, is a cautionary tale. We remember his death because it's meant to serve as a reminder of what happens when you aren't careful, when you don't take the danger surrounding you seriously, when you covet your own curiousity over listening to the words of those wiser. In this case, it's very difficult to 'reduce' Icarus to his death because his death is kind of the whole point of his story and while modern audiences have laser focused on Hyacinthus' death to the overall detriment of his story and impact, they overspeculate about Icarus when the true figure caught in a tragic situation in this scenario is Daedalus, Icarus's father. Daedalus who endured years of imprisonment in that tower, burdened by the knowledge that his greatest invention is being used for ritual slaughter, Daedalus who raised his son as best as he could and who cherished nothing more than him, Daedalus who must watch helplessly while his son ignores his warnings to fly higher and higher and who cannot even stop to pick up his body unless he too wants to be swallowed by the waves. In trying to humanise the young Icarus we completely ignore the plight of his aged, grieving father.

oh how i love hyacinthus and icarus. two young boys reduced only to be known because of their premature deaths as if that’s the most important part of them

[imstillalexcomic]

I was planning on writing a long post about all this, but even though coming out as trans has been a 24 year process and there's been ample time to work on what to say, I'm having trouble finding the right words.

While I knew there was something going on with me since I was about 12 or 13, it took time to realize what it was.

It then took more time to get over my denial.

Then even more time to come out to my best friend in 2017.

Then *even* more time to finally decide to start hormone replacement therapy this year.

Since starting HRT, I've been reaching out to folks from all stages in my life to tell them in person. It's been a lovely experience so far and everyone has been so kind and accepting and understanding and I'm truly fortunate and honored that I've somehow managed to have been surrounded by so many wonderful people.

There are many more that I wanted to reach out to, but I'm finally ready to come out publicly, so I'm ripping the bandaid off now.

Naturally, I'm going to be silly about it and do it with a comic.

I haven't really been drawing since Corpse Run ended, but I've had the itch to get back into it and now that I have a new topic to explore I think I finally have the passion to match the desire.

No set schedule like Corpse Run had, but there's going to be some trans comics from time to time, general life stuff... maybe some video games too because why not.

Given current events, I think visibility is more important than ever. Being seen and potentially giving other folks who might be closeted as I was an opportunity to explore their own relationship with themselves has value and I'm excited to make this next chapter of my life something worthwhile beyond my own happiness.

Being trans is ok. Not being trans is ok. Being whatever it is you were born as is ok.

The circumstances of your birth are nothing to be ashamed of, you are valid and always will be.

I guess I found some words after all. I hope they're the right ones.

[14dayswithyou]

PSA ! Because I've seen it be brought up in YouTube videos, in the comments section on Itch, and in quite a few asks on Tumblr... Here are some common misconceptions about "14 Days With You" that I'd like to clear up!

14 Days With You is not an otome game; it's an amare game!! The main character (Angel) is not a female heroine/female protagonist, and they're not written to be female-coded. Yes, you have the option to customise your pronouns and how others perceive you, but there is no "default" or fixed narrative perspective for 14DWY (outside of a gender-neutral perspective).

If it isn't already obvious, Ren's characterisation heavily leans into the "dere" aspect of a yandere. He genuinely loves Angel... Just to a terrifying degree.

None of the cast members are heterosexual, so please don't assume that all of Teo's exes/flings were women, that Leon has only had girlfriends in the past, that Olivia is only attracted to good-looking men, etc. In a similar vein, I want to remind everyone that Jae-Hyun is gay and Kiara is a lesbian.

14DWY is also a romance game!! The whole point is to get to know Ren, grow closer with him, and ultimately romance him. So please stop asking me to include BTD, TDDUP, or W1WD mechanics in the game. It's completely fine if you like those types of genres — and I'm not here to yuck anyone's yum — but it's not the vibe I'm going for with 14DWY, and it's not something I want to write about.

Ren dyes his hair! He isn't wearing a pink wig.

Similarly... Violet, Jae, Moth, and Teo all dye their hair as well. But I'm happy if folks want to headcanon that "unnatural" hair colours can exist in the 14DWY universe.

Ren does not have DID or BPD. He's merely a desperate yandere who changes aspects of himself + creates different "personas" to appease Angel (and essentially become their ideal type). He definitely has a pessimistic outlook on his real self, though he does not identify or feel genuine in any of his created personas. I'm comfortable for those who have DID/BPD/etc to headcanon Ren as such, but I heavily discourage everyone else from doing so as I don't want to give them an incorrect or bad reputation.

The 18+ scenes are optional!!!!! The game is intended to be played without them — it's even turned off by default. Nobody is forced to sleep with Ren.

14 Days With You is a passion project that I work on in my free time for fun. I'm not making a profit off of it, I'm not looking to turn it into a career, and in the most /pos way possible; it's not important enough for me to make a priority. So... Please stop guilt-tripping me for updates when I already don't have enough time or luxury to work on it ;v;

(last edited: 19/101/24) — I may add more here over time!!

[malkaviian]

Idk what to do with my art

[giamee]

╭┄───────────── 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐔𝐕! ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

featuring. hsr men 〆 wc. 1.0k

art creds. 海仑 on weibo 〆 contains. mentions of being drunk/drinking, some suggestiveness but still sfw

gia's notes. new layout bc im allergic to keeping a theme 🏰 also i'm writing this while i procrastinate an essay. which is due in like.. 8.5 hours. and i am 2k over the word limit. joy upon joy.

╰┄➤ ❝ request. anon 〆 What HSR men says when they are drunk. ❞

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ they’re SWEET when they’re drunk.

his voice gets a touch softer, a little lower so that you have to crane your neck and lean in real close to him to catch what he's saying over the bustle of the bar that you went to and the chatter of your friends that you came with. it’s like you’re in your own little universe with him, the sweet pinkish tint to his cheeks and the dilated pupils a look that you could definitely get used to- not that his usual more reserved look didn’t make your heart hammer in your chest, too.

but it's just so rare to see him like this, for him to look at you like you hung the stars in the sky, like every word that passes your lips is a prayer, whose hands furl and unfurl in his lap like he's itching to touch you (you wish he would).

it's not like he really says much, per se, instead opting to watch your every move wide-eyed and with a slackened jaw. you're growing warm under his gaze, and you stutter out that he'll really have to quit staring at you like that before you get the wrong idea. that does little to stop his actions, though he does flash you a sheepish smile.

"i'm sorry, you just look so beautiful."

you almost choke as you take a sip of your own drink.

gepard, dan heng (imbibitor lunae), moze, luocha

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ they’re FLIRTY when they’re drunk.

it should be illegal for him to be this much of a smooth talker with that many drinks in his system. he's completely and utterly shameless, one arm rested casually against the back of your chair and his whole undivided attention on you as he throws every line he knows right at you hoping that one will land.

you'd be lying if you said that you weren't enjoying this attention from him, though there's the remaining sober part of you screaming how he's just a friend over and over, but when he dips his head low to whisper into your ear you're delighted to find that part of you audibly drown out.

everything about him is just so... tantalising. the way his silver tongue darts out to swipe across his lip, him not missing the way your eyes follow the movement. the way he leans back in his seat, the hungry yet calculating look in his eyes doing something to you. the way you see him deliberating over something before finally opening his mouth to speak.

and when he asks you if you want to get out here with him, it's only natural for you to accept his offer.

aventurine (realistically he gets sad when he drinks but that is not romantical or lighthearted at all) jiaoqiu, gallagher, boothill

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ they’re TALKATIVE when they’re drunk.

even on a good day, he's known to just talk, and talk, and talk if he gets going. that particular quality only seems to be amplified by the alcohol coursing through his system. he's been talking your ear off for the past half hour or so, a never-ending flow of words escaping his lips as he seems to he telling you just about everything that's on his mind.

you see the glances from others, the pity edging its way to concern adorning their features, but little do they know that you don't mind one bit.

while he may not be everyone's favourite to talk to, you've always found something within you compelled to sit and listen while he talks. he's always had something interesting to say, always been wary of if you are feeling tired or bored (not that you ever would be of him), and over your few encounters you've grown to be rather fond of him.

he's still talking now, an enthusiastic gleam in his eye as you smile and nod, propping your chin against your hand as you get comfy and study his features unbothered.

he sees the affectionate look on your face and stops for a moment, smiling widely and stuttering a few times before continuing.

dr ratio, sampo, mr reca, argenti

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ they’re TIRED when they’re drunk.

it's something that happened once, a few months ago when you had drank with them for the first time. you had all been in a group, and you had been chatting away with your friends rather livelily (i dont think that's a word) until you promptly felt a weight against your shoulder.

your reactions are a bit sluggish, but when you do turn to see just what it could be you're surprised to see a head of hair, and your tipsy brain just about manages to realise he's slumped over, dozing off on your shoulder, much to the amusement of everyone at the table.

you find it rather funny yourself, sneaking your phone out of your pocket to snap a rather unflattering-angled photo of him (which he still manages to look good in) that you send to him the next morning (he smiled to himself as he saw your grinning face in the corner of it and saved it to his camera roll).

you don't quite have the heart to wake him up or shrug him off, so you sort of just... let him be and continue talking like nothing had happened. some nondescript amount of time later he wakes up, blinking uncertainly as he gains his surroundings, before jolting up ramrod straight and apologising to you.

you giggle, tell him it's alright and tease that he must be getting old to be asleep this early, which is met with an unimpressed look from him.

but from that night onwards, it happens a little too... often to be some chance.

every time he drinks, without fail, his head drops onto your shoulder. it's somewhat of a routine to snap a photo of him like this, to admire it in secret before sending it to him, and it's somewhat of a tradition now for him to wake up and instead send you a reserved smile before letting himself doze off on your shoulder again.

not that either of you are complaining.

blade, jing yuan, caelus, welt

➤ IF YOU LIKED THIS, TRY ... do you want somebody like i want somebody?

[ayumip]

𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮…𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬?

boyfriend!rin x reader

word count: 0.6k

rin, your boyfriend, is jealous of the stray cat you recently adopted. so what's he going to do? get it away of course!

recently, rin's been wearing a permanent scowl on his face, not that he didn't scowl at everyone before, but now it was wayyy more obvious.

you, on the other hand, were living your best life. for the past month, you've been feeding this stray cat in your neighborhood, bringing it milk, cat food and water from the nearby connivence story everyday. it took you a while to confirm that it was indeed a stray, and not a cat roaming around using its cuteness to lure passersby to give it more food. nevertheless, you begged rin to allow you to adopt it into your shared apartment. using your puppy dog eyes, and some other forms of convincing, he relented with a "i don't care as long as it doesn't bother me"

little did he know, that cat would be the death of him.

"here kitty kitty~!" you would coo at your new pet with that bright smile of yours, showering it with love and affection. you cuddled with it on your chest every morning, every afternoon, every evening; even when your were working late at night, it was either on your lap or on your desk. (that was his privilege! though he would never admit it, he thrived off your touch. if he could, he would glue himself next to you, never letting go)

rin wasn't the best at voicing his emotions. this past week, you've been all over your cat! gushing about it, playing with it, taking care of it...how about him! he was itching for you to cuddle with him again, or lay his head on your lap as you gave him his head scratches that he oh so adored; even a quick touch would mean heaven for him at this point!

deprived of your touch, rin has begun to utterly despise your cat. oh, to him it was the definition of the devil itself —nuzzling up to you all the time, taking your attention away from him, your boyfriend, squishing itself in the middle of you two in the middle of your horror movie nights, or even worse, evicting him away from his spot in your arms. he was getting crankier, but he wouldn't say anything! he just gave you fleeting touches hoping you'd get the hint, which of course, you didn't.

tonight, it was the night. he wanted your touch back, no, he needed it back! it's been a week, a week away from you (not really, rin's exaggerating here.) the three of you were sitting on the shared couch, watching yet another horror movie. instead of you cuddling up to him, you were instead petting your cat! softly stroking it's fur and scratching just behind it's ears. it let out a content purr, satisfied with your ministrations. rin, could not focus on the movie at all, despite horror being his favorite genre.

when you momentarily left to grab some water. rin pounced on the chance to give your cat his signature death stare, it hissing back in response to rin's hostility. rin didn't falter, he cupped the cat's cheeks 'gently', glaring into it's eyes:

"get away from my girlfriend, you lukewarm creature." he muttered, only to be met with your cat's sharp paws smacking his face.

you were watching from afar, biting back your laughter at the hilarious exchange between your cat and your boyfriend. joining them back at the couch, you picked up your cat, prying it away from rin, who was moments away from god knows what, nuzzling into your arms as it glared rin down.

"...rin- are you picking a fight with my baby?"

"i'm your baby."

authors note: god i wish i had a cat too :( there may be some mischaracterization here but i had this idea and wrote it in like 30 mins...might write a pt 2 where rin gets along w ur cat at last!