#feels kinda mean posting this but whatever

[benispunk]

Safety Net

logan howlett x reader

Logan experiences a rage episode.

A/N: hello everyone!!!! am I back??? well...I guess we can kinda say that? So, life hasn't been good, like, at all, and a whileeee ago I saw a post about mental health and Logan and I saw the "rage episodes" part and I cannot find this post anymore which is killing me ughhhh but ANYWAY, this is my rendition of a rage episode. this was very therapeutic to write because of the things I went through recently and over the past few years as I have witnessed someone in my family have a rage episode like the one depicted in this fic. I really hope I do not offend anyone with this??? cause this is based on personal memory and also I've done a lot of research on it and as I said, I felt lots of different emotions while writing this....anyway...I hope you have a good time?? reading this or like...you didn't choke on your tears or whatever. my exams are ALMOST over which means....more fics soon?? see you!!

Masterlist

Logan never thought he’d make it this far.

He wasn’t the type for relationships—not real ones, not the kind that lasted. The ones he’d had before were brief, messy, and built on things that never stuck. But Y/N was different. She didn’t just put up with him; she understood him in ways that no one ever had. And somehow, despite everything, she was still here.

He didn’t say it much—not in words, anyway—but he cared about her. More than he should. More than he knew how to handle. He’d show it in other ways instead. Walking her home when she worked late. Holding her a little tighter in his sleep when he thought she wouldn’t notice. Memorizing the way she took her coffee, the songs she hummed under her breath, the way her nose scrunched up when she was thinking.

She saw through all of it.

"You’re not as grumpy as you think you are," she’d teased him once, her fingers lazily tracing patterns on his forearm.

He’d just snorted, shaking his head. "You sure about that?"

"Mhm. You just pretend to be."

And maybe she was right. Maybe, with her, he didn’t feel the need to pretend so much.

Which is why, one night, tangled up together in her apartment, she had said something that stuck with him.

"I was thinking… maybe one day, we could live together."

It wasn’t a question, not really. Just an idea, something she had tossed out so casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world. But Logan had frozen for just a second too long, and she must have noticed because she quickly added, "Not now, obviously. Just, you know… one day. If you’d want that."

He forced himself to relax, to keep his voice even. "Yeah… someday."

That had been enough for her. She had smiled, kissed him, and let it go.

But he didn’t.

It stayed with him, gnawed at him from the inside out. Someday. What did that even mean? A month? A year? What if she asked again? What if she expected something from him?

What if he said yes and fucked everything up?

At first, he managed to push the thought aside.

Days passed, and nothing changed. They still met up when they could, still spent nights tangled in each other’s arms, still fell into that easy rhythm that had become so natural.

But then, the idea started sticking.

It crept up in quiet moments—when he was alone in his apartment, staring at the ceiling. When Y/N texted him goodnight, and he imagined what it would be like if she was just… there.

And that’s when it started. The overthinking. The doubts. The realization of everything that could go wrong.

Logan had never had anything that lasted. Not a home. Not a real future. Not someone who stayed. And if he let himself believe—even for a second—that this could work, that he could have something good, then he’d just be setting himself up for the inevitable.

Because eventually, he would hurt her.

Not on purpose. Never on purpose. But he knew himself. He knew what he was.

His nightmares alone were enough proof of that.

The thought of waking up next to her after one of those nights—claws unsheathed, sheets shredded, breath ragged—made his stomach twist. What if he lashed out? What if she got caught in it?

What if one of his rage episodes got out of hand?

No.

He couldn’t let that happen.

So when months later she asked about it again—actually asked—he hesitated.

They were sitting on her couch, her legs thrown over his lap, a movie playing in the background. It was the kind of easy, quiet moment that usually put him at ease. But this time, he could feel her looking at him, like she was weighing her words before speaking.

"You never really answered me before," she said finally. "Do you actually want us to live together?"

Logan’s jaw tightened. He could hear the uncertainty in her voice, like she was scared of his answer.

He should have told her the truth. That it had been eating him alive for months. That he wanted to say yes, but his fear screamed louder than anything else.

Instead, he said, "I just need some time to think about it."

Y/N’s expression didn’t change. She just nodded slowly, studying him in that way that made his skin itch.

"Okay," she said, like she didn’t believe him.

And then she squeezed his hand. Just briefly. A small, warm reassurance.

But to Logan, it didn’t change anything.

He could only see what he thought was disappointment behind her understanding. He convinced himself she was just trying to be strong about it, pretending it didn’t hurt her when really, she was just waiting for him to figure himself out.

The guilt settled in his chest, heavy and suffocating.

That’s how it started.

The beginning is always subtle. He stayed out later, made excuses when she asked to meet up. His texts became shorter, more infrequent. He spent more time alone in his apartment, staring at the walls, trapped inside his own head.

And the longer it went on, the worse it got.

Logan convinced himself it was nothing. He was just thinking. That’s all.

But the thoughts never stopped.

Every time Y/N messaged him, guilt curled in his stomach like a sickness. He’d stare at his phone for minutes at a time, fingers hovering over the keyboard, before locking the screen and tossing it onto the couch.

He didn’t want to ignore her. But if he answered, he’d have to talk, and if he talked, she’d hear it in his voice—how torn he was, how he could barely keep himself together. And he couldn’t let that happen.

So he let the distance grow.

He told himself it was for her own good. That he was doing her a favor.

That lie worked for about a week.

Then came the restlessness.

The apartment, always too small, started feeling like a cage. Logan found himself pacing the length of it, muscles coiled so tight they ached. He tried training to burn it off—push-ups until his arms gave out, running until he couldn't feel his legs—but it didn’t help.

The frustration built like pressure under his skin, like a ticking bomb he couldn’t disarm.

And worst of all, he felt it creeping up—an old, familiar feeling, something he’d kept at bay for months.

The anger.

It started small. A twitch in his fingers. A tightness in his jaw. A heat in his chest that never fully went away.

The second week, it got worse.

His hands trembled when he wasn’t paying attention. His breathing came too fast, too shallow, like something was crawling under his skin. He felt his temper snap quicker, his patience wear thinner.

And then, one morning, he caught his reflection in the bathroom mirror and barely recognized himself.

Dark circles burned under his eyes. His face was drawn, sharp, his shoulders tense. He looked haunted.

It was getting bad. Too bad.

He needed to see Y/N.

The thought hit him like a slap. His first instinct was to shove it down, bury it under everything else, but it wouldn’t leave.

He missed her. But worse than that—he needed her.

And that terrified him more than anything.

Because what if he showed up, and she looked at him the way he looked at himself?

What if she finally saw him for what he really was?

A monster. A wreck. A lost cause.

The fear made his blood run cold.

The first punch isn’t planned.

One second, he’s gripping the sink, breath ragged, jaw locked so tight it aches. The next, his fist slams into the mirror with a force that shatters it instantly.

Glass rains down like ice. Tiny shards bite into his knuckles, but he barely feels it.

His chest heaves. His heartbeat pounds against his ribs. He stares at his own fractured reflection—his face split into a dozen broken pieces, each one warped, wrong.

It’s not enough.

The rage claws higher, burning his veins, crushing his ribs. He steps back, breathing sharp and uneven. He moves away from the bathroom, into his small living room. And then he snaps.

The lamp goes flying first. It crashes against the far wall, exploding into pieces. The chair follows. He barely registers the sound it makes as it shatters.

His claws threaten to unsheathe, but he fights it—barely.

Instead, he tears through the apartment with nothing but his hands.

The table gets overturned. Books get ripped from shelves. His dresser—too heavy, too solid—takes three violent attempts before it topples over with a thunderous crack.

Still, it’s not enough.

He needs to break something. To hurt something. To feel it.

His breathing is ragged, his vision tunneling. His hands tangle in his own hair, yanking, as if he could pull himself out of his own skin.

The storm inside him is suffocating.

It doesn’t stop until there’s nothing left standing.

And then, silence.

His shoulders tremble. His hands curl into fists at his sides, still shaking.

He looks around, blinking through the haze, and finally sees it—

The wreckage.

His apartment is destroyed.

He stares, breath coming too fast, too shallow. His head is spinning. His chest aches.

What have I done?

The thought slams into him, knocking the air from his lungs.

He wants to scream. To punch something again. To disappear.

And then—

A soft knock.

His stomach drops.

He goes rigid, pulse hammering in his ears. He barely has time to process before her voice follows—gentle, uncertain.

"Logan?"

No. No, no, no.

She can’t be here. Not now. Not when the air still vibrates with rage. Not when his body still hums with it.

He staggers back, breath shaking, trying to make sense of anything.

She knocks again. "I know you’re here."

Panic surges through him.

He grips the edge of the still standing counter, heart hammering. Think. Think.

But his mind is blank.

She can’t see this. She can’t see him.

But she’s already here.

And it’s too late.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. If he stays completely still, maybe she’ll leave. Maybe she’ll assume he’s out and walk away.

But then—

His phone rings.

The sound shatters the silence like a gunshot.

His stomach drops.

Shit.

His body jolts into motion, eyes darting wildly through the wreckage. Where the hell is it? He moves without thinking, shoving aside broken furniture, tossing clothes and debris out of the way. His hands are unsteady, frantic, as he digs through the mess.

The ringing continues.

Come on, come on—

His fingers finally close around the device, and he scrambles to turn it off, but—

The damage is done.

Outside, Y/N goes silent.

A few seconds pass, then—

"...Logan?" Her voice is softer now. Knowing.

His chest tightens.

He grips the phone so hard it creaks in his hand. His breathing is too loud, his pulse a hammer against his skull.

She knows.

"Logan, open the door."

No. No, no, she can’t.

"You can’t come in," he blurts out, his voice hoarse. He clears his throat, tries to steady himself, but it’s useless. His hands are still shaking. His entire body is.

"Please." Her voice is so gentle it cuts through him like a blade.

"Just—just go home, alright?" He forces the words out, presses his back against the door like he can physically hold her out. "I’m fine."

He knows how it sounds. Knows she doesn’t believe it.

"Logan…"

There’s something in her tone—something aching—that makes his stomach twist.

"You’re not fine," she says, quiet but firm. "Please. Just let me in."

He squeezes his eyes shut. His head is spinning.

She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t see this.

But she is.

And deep down, he knows. She’s the better option. She always has been. And with a sharp breath, his fingers fumble with the lock.

The second it clicks, the door opens.

And Y/N steps inside.

The air was thick with dust and the sharp scent of splintered wood.

The apartment—once messy in a charming, lived-in way—was destroyed. Furniture overturned, glass shattered across the floor.

In the middle of it all stood Logan. Frozen. Shaking. Like an animal cornered after ripping itself apart.

Y/N didn’t hesitate. Her heart ached so violently in her chest it almost knocked the air from her lungs, but she didn’t hesitate.

Carefully stepping over the broken glass, she made her way to him. Her hands reached out—gentle, slow—like approaching something fragile.

“Logan,” she breathed.

He flinched at her voice. His hands, bloody and trembling, curled into fists at his sides, as if trying to hold himself together. He wouldn’t look at her. Couldn’t.

But Y/N wasn't afraid. Not of him. Never of him.

She checked his hands first, ghosting her fingers over his knuckles, over shallow cuts that were already starting to heal. It didn’t matter—they could have hurt. She still touched him with the same care she would have used on something broken beyond repair.

“Come here,” she whispered, finding a chair that hadn’t been completely wrecked. She kicked aside some debris, made enough space, then turned back to him.

He didn’t move. Didn’t even seem to breathe.

So she went to him and she led him by the hand—gently, so gently—until he sat down with a heavy, defeated thud.

Y/N disappeared into the kitchen for a second, somehow finding a clean cloth and wetting it with cold water. When she came back, Logan hadn't moved. His eyes were empty, far away, like he wasn’t really there.

Kneeling in front of him, she pressed the damp cloth to his face, wiping away the blood, the dirt, the sweat.

He flinched again at first—then, slowly, surrendered to her touch. His head bowed forward, his whole body trembling under her hands. Tears fell down his cheeks. Silent. Endless. He didn’t even seem to notice them.

Y/N caught every tear with the cloth, and when that wasn’t enough, with the soft brush of her thumb against his skin. She kissed the corner of his mouth so lightly he barely felt it, her hands cradling his face like he was something precious.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, over and over again. “I’m here. You’re okay.”

Logan let out a breath that sounded like it hurt to release. His shoulders collapsed inward, and for a moment, he leaned into her, desperate and broken. But even then, even shattered, a part of him tried to pull away. He didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve her.

“You shouldn’t be,” he rasped, voice thick with guilt and misery.

Y/N’s heart twisted, but she didn’t loosen her hold. She shook her head and pressed her forehead gently to his. Her hands threaded through his hair, slow and steady, grounding him.

"I’ll always be here," she whispered.

And that—That broke him all over again.

Logan choked on a sob, rough and ugly, and Y/N gathered him close. She guided him toward the bedroom, somehow navigating the wreckage without letting go of him, like if she let go, he might fall apart completely.

They reached the bed—half wrecked but still standing—and she urged him to sit.

He obeyed, dazed and exhausted.

She climbed behind him, pulling him against her chest, holding him the way you would hold someone drowning. Her hands never stopped moving—through his hair, over his face, down his chest—silent promises written into every touch.

Logan tried to speak—tried to tell her he was sorry, that he was dangerous, that he should be alone—but the words tangled in his throat.

Instead, he cried.

For everything he was.

For everything he wasn’t.

For everything he was terrified to lose.

And she listened. Patient. Endless.

Her tears fell into his hair as she presses soft kisses there and whispered, “I’ve got you, Logan. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

For the first time in days—maybe longer—he believed her.

He stayed there, trembling in her arms, every breath a struggle. He was exhausted—but he couldn’t close his eyes. Couldn’t let himself fall into sleep, not yet. Not when every part of him screamed that he didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve her.

Y/N must have sensed it—the way he was still locked in the fight, even as his body sagged against her. Because after a long moment, she leaned back just enough to look at him, her fingers brushing through his hair again, slow and soothing.

"Logan," she said softly, "let’s go to my place, okay?"

Her voice was a balm, warm and certain, like she was offering him a lifeline he didn’t think he deserved.

"We’ll come back here when you're ready," she promised. "We'll clean up together. But right now, you need a place that feels safe."

Safe.

The word hit him like a punch.

Logan stiffened, guilt flaring so hard it made his stomach churn. He shook his head, tearing away from her touch even though it hurt to do it.

"I can’t," he rasped, his voice cracking. "I’ll... I'll just wreck that too."

Y/N’s chest squeezed painfully. Logan’s fists curled again, self-hatred bleeding out of every line of his body.

"I could—" he swallowed hard, his throat burning, "I could hurt you."

He didn’t say again. But it was there, unspoken.

He was a monster. A ticking bomb. Someone who could tear everything good apart without even meaning to.

But Y/N. She just reached for him again, steady and unwavering, like a lighthouse cutting through the storm.

"You won’t," she said, firm but gentle. "You won't because you're not alone. Because you don’t have to fight this alone anymore."

She squeezed his hand, grounding him back into her.

"And even if you still don’t believe it," she whispered, "even if you push me away, even if you try to shut me out... I’m not leaving you, Logan. Not now. Not ever."

Logan’s breathing hitched. He shook his head again, broken. "You don’t get it," he choked out. "I’m not... I'm not worth it. You should walk away. You should've walked away the second you saw—" He gestured weakly at the wreckage, at the wreck of himself.

But Y/N only moved closer. Closer until he couldn't look anywhere without seeing her. Feeling her.

"I saw you," she said, voice thick with emotion. "Not the mess. You."

That shattered something deep in him. Not in a violent way. In a way that stripped him down to the raw truth beneath all the pain: He needed her. He wanted her. He loved her more than he even knew how to say.

And she loved him right back, with a kind of love so fierce it scared him more than anything else in the world. But it also saved him.

Slowly, hesitantly, Logan reached for her again. His hand fisted in the back of her shirt like he was terrified she might vanish if he didn’t hold on tight enough. And when she leaned into him, wrapping him up in her arms again, he buried his face in her neck, letting himself finally, finally fall into her.

Maybe he didn’t deserve her. Maybe he never would.

But she was here. And for tonight, at least, that was enough.

She kept her arms around him for a long moment, just breathing with him. When she finally pulled back, it was only to cup his face in both hands, her thumb brushing gently across his cheek.

"Stay here," she whispered. "Don’t move, okay? I’ll be right back."

Logan didn’t argue. Couldn’t. He just nodded faintly, like a man barely clinging to the surface.

Y/N kissed his forehead so softly it made his chest ache, then she stood up, stepping carefully over the wreckage as she made her way back into the main room. He watched her go, guilt gnawing at him.

In the living room, Y/N moved quickly but carefully. She picked up the sharp shards of the broken mirror first, wrapping them in a towel before tossing them safely into the trash. She pushed splintered wood and broken glass out of the pathways, clearing a narrow, safe space from the bedroom to the front door. She closed the shattered shutters as best she could, dimming the room so that when Logan would come back here later, it wouldn't feel so raw. So exposed.

She worked with quiet determination, her heart breaking a little more every time she caught sight of the destruction. Not because she cared about the mess, but because she could feel how much pain Logan must've been in to cause it.

When she was satisfied that nothing dangerous remained, she made her way back to the bedroom.

Logan was still sitting exactly where she left him, on the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped and hands loosely clenched in his lap.

Y/N’s heart squeezed.

She didn’t say anything at first. Instead, she moved around the room, finding a worn duffel bag tucked under the bed. She gently packed what she could: clothes that weren’t destroyed, a couple of small things she knew mattered to him.

In the bathroom, it was harder—cracked tiles, broken shelves—but she found his toothbrush, some of his toiletries, a couple of personal items, and tucked them into the bag too.

The whole time, Logan stayed silent, waiting on the edge of the bed.

It felt unreal. Like he wasn’t sure any of this was happening. Like any second now, she’d realize who he really was and walk out that door forever.

But she didn’t. She zipped the bag closed, slinging it over her shoulder and when she turned to him, her expression was still soft. Still his.

"Alright," she said gently. "Let’s go."

Logan hesitated, his body locked between guilt and the pull of her voice. But then she held out her hand to him and after a long, trembling second, Logan reached out and took it.

Her fingers wrapped tightly around his, like a promise.

She led him out of the bedroom, guiding him carefully around the worst of the wreckage she’d cleared, never letting go of his hand. Out the door. Out of the prison his fear had made.

The walk to Y/N’s apartment was quiet.

She kept a steady hand on Logan the whole time, whether it was gripping his hand, brushing his arm, or gently guiding him through doors and up steps.

Logan didn’t speak. He felt hollowed out and brittle, like if she let go of him even for a second, he might just blow away with the night wind.

When they finally reached her door, she unlocked it quickly, ushering him inside with a tenderness that made his throat ache.

The apartment smelled like her. Warm. Safe.

Home.

She kicked off her shoes by the entrance but didn’t ask him to do the same. Instead, she led him straight to the couch, easing him down carefully like he might break if she moved him too fast.

"Stay right here," she said softly, brushing his hair back from his forehead. "I'll be back in a second."

He nodded numbly, watching her flit around the small space. She pulled out a fresh blanket, fluffed a pillow behind him, checked the thermostat to make sure the place was warm enough. Every move was made with him in mind—with the kind of care he didn’t think he deserved.

And maybe he didn't. Maybe he was fooling himself to think he could have this. Have her.

As she moved into her bedroom to grab some extra clothes he could borrow, Logan’s eyes wandered without meaning to.

Her apartment was small but filled with life—books, photos, cozy little touches everywhere. He caught sight of something pinned to the fridge and frowned. He pushed himself up a little and squinted.

It was a photo. Worn and creased from being touched so often.

It was him. Him and her.

A candid photo from some random night he barely remembered, probably taken when they'd gone out for drinks with some of her friends. In it, he was looking off to the side, a rare, unguarded smile on his face. And she was laughing, leaning into him like she belonged there. Like she'd always belonged there. Someone had drawn a little heart under the picture.

Logan's chest tightened so hard it hurt. He hadn't even known she had that picture.

Y/N came back just then, carrying some sweatpants and a soft hoodie, but paused when she saw him up, looking at the fridge.

"Logan?" she said gently, setting the clothes down.

He shook his head, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. Trying to breathe past the crushing guilt and the unbearable love that wrapped around him like chains. He sat back down on the couch.

"I..." he started hoarsely. He dragged a hand down his face, then gritted out, "I don't deserve this. I don't deserve you."

Y/N didn’t hesitate. She dropped to her knees in front of him, cupping his face in her hands again, forcing him to look at her.

"Listen to me," she whispered, voice trembling but sure. "You’re not a monster. You’re not broken beyond saving. You are good, Logan. And you don’t have to do this alone anymore."

He squeezed his eyes shut, a broken sound escaping him—part sob, part plea.

"I could hurt you," he rasped. "I could—"

"You won't," she said fiercely. "I trust you. I know you."

Her thumbs brushed away the tears he didn't even realize were falling again.

For a long, trembling moment, Logan didn’t move. Didn't even breathe.

And then, like a man surrendering a battle he never wanted to fight in the first place, he leaned into her touch. Collapsed against her.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, he let himself believe he wasn't beyond saving.

Not as long as she was here. Not as long as she was holding him like this.

Logan’s body was heavy against hers, all tense lines and shuddering breaths. For a moment, he let himself rest there, forehead pressed to her shoulder, letting her hands ground him—gentle strokes along his back, soothing circles at the nape of his neck.

But then, as always, the guilt clawed its way back up his throat.

He shifted, starting to pull away.

"I—I should go," he muttered roughly, not even knowing where he thought he could go in this state. "I’ll just—I’ll sleep on the floor. Or— or the couch."

Y/N immediately tightened her hold.

"What are you talking about..." she said, firm but gentle, her hands sliding up to cradle his face again. "You're not going anywhere."

He shook his head, a pained sound escaping him, "You don’t—You shouldn't have to—" His voice cracked under the weight of it. "Look at me, Y/N."

"I am," she whispered, her thumb stroking just beneath his eye, brushing away a tear. "And all I see is the man I love."

He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing ragged.

She didn’t let him turn away. Didn’t let him fall back into that pit.

"You're staying right here," she said again, softer this time, like a promise. "With me."

For a second, he was frozen.

Then Y/N pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, lingering there.

"Come on," she murmured against his skin. "Let’s get you comfortable, alright?"

He nodded weakly, too exhausted to resist anymore.

She helped him out of his ruined jacket, guiding him with slow, careful movements like he was made of glass. He let her pull the sleeves down his arms, let her tug the hoodie over his head. Every touch was tender, every glance full of nothing but care and patience.

She handed him the fresh sweatpants and shirt she'd found earlier, giving him the dignity of changing in the bathroom if he wanted— but he just stood there, trembling, needing her near.

So she stayed. Helping him change, steadying his shaking hands when they fumbled with the fabric.

Once he was in clean clothes, Y/N led him to her bed.

The second he sat down, the mattress dipping under his weight, he seemed to lose what little strength he had left. He dropped his head into his hands, shoulders heaving with silent breaths.

Y/N knelt down again in front of him, brushing her fingers through his hair with infinite gentleness.

"You’re safe now," she whispered. "You’re safe. I’ve got you."

Logan swallowed hard, blinking back another wave of tears. He was so fucking tired. Of fighting. Of hurting.

Tired of believing he didn’t deserve this.

Slowly—so slowly—he lifted his head.

And she was there. Still there. Still looking at him like he was worth staying for.

"I’ll stay," he rasped, voice breaking.

Her smile trembled, but it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"Good," she breathed, wiping another tear from his cheek. "That's all I want."

She climbed into bed beside him, pulling the blankets over them, never once letting go of his hand.

And for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, Logan let himself believe that maybe—just maybe—he didn’t have to be alone anymore.

XXX

feel free to comment if you want a part 2 or any other request!!

[vampires-official]

I'm glad you enjoy this post! :D I think it's a fun avenue to go down! I'd have to do more research to find concrete lore support, but from what I recall I think there's some older lore support too. Recalling Dracula, after he feeds from Jonathan and Lucy, he's described as being visibly younger and iirc more filled out. I think a lot of the idea of blood consumption comes from the idea of like, life consumption, so having the blood do more than sit in their stomach and acting as more of s replacement to keep them young and immortal tracks.

I think in a lot of lore, they were of course not thinking of the scientific side of things, which make sense! But because I'm a Huge Nerd(TM), with my own vampire lore I took inspiration from the small intestine absorbing nutrients into the blood stream, and decided to tweak it. Instead of sitting in the stomach, fresh blood gets leeched into their own bloodstream to revitalize them. It's a bit about replacing the blood with each feeding, so the blood in their bodies is originally from the victim they fed on. Since they're undead and can't make more, it not only decomposes over time to some degree, but they also need more blood replacement than a human would since it's also their sole source of nutrition and energy. If they haven't eaten in a while, their bodies will consume whatever blood is left in their system until they starve. With how the turning process works, their body can only process a liquid diet, and really only gets nutrients from blood. They can kinda eat tiny bites of solid food, and while they can drink anything, too many of let's say, glasses of wine, is going to make them feel horrible.

I'm still fleshing that all out, so it might change and it's less based in reality, but I've had a fun time thinking about it/designing it so far. I hope that's what you mean by my thoughts on it!

Does anyone want to hear about the math I did to try and figure out how much blood a vampire would need to drink (if we're basing it off them having a similar caloric intake as we do?)

[lover-of-mine]

Okay, I've been ignoring the actually kinda surprising amount of people lately that think that they are entitled access to my fucking blog and anything I do here and think they can send me shit because I blocked them. So let's make one think very clear: no one, and I mean NO ONE is entitled to my thoughts, gifs, metas, supercuts. If I wanna block you for whatever reason, I can. If it was something you said to me, about someone I care about, something I don't agree with, a take I don't want to be forced to see, or just because I don't like your fucking vibes I can because this is first and foremost MY OWN BLOG. This is MY space. And I decide who can or can't access it. I will not have you guilt tripping me into unblocking you because you think I'm being cruel. If I blocked you I have my own reasons. I have never in my life realized I've been blocked by someone and decided to go into their blog multiple times to try and get them to unblock me. I'm not responsible for your mental health. I'm not a machine of content creation. I am a person. And I am a person who has been under attack for over a year. So yeah, I have a no strikes policy. If you bother me, you're getting blocked because I spent months getting death threats and I don't want to deal with this shit. You don't get to act as if you're entitled to anything I post. This is MY BLOG. And I can and will block whoever the fuck I feel like blocking and I will continue to block you if you keep acting as if I'm responsible for you mental health just because you think you're entitled to whatever I'm posting. You're not. Grow up.

[majikkulu]

⠀⠀ :¨ ·.· ¨: ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ masterlist `· . ꔫ

!DISCLAIMER! for entertainment purposes only ♡ this  is  a  general  reading,  so  take  what  resonates  and  gently let  the  rest  go.

trust  your  intuition,  choose the picture or  pile  that  calls  to  you,  and  let  the  magic  unfold ♡

✧˖°.₊  ♡  ✩˚  ༘

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ PILE ONE i  don't  think  you  really  know  this  person,  at  least  not  in  a  deep  way.  they  seem  pretty  distant  and  withdrawn,  like  they've  never  really  made  any  effort  to  connect  with  you.  honestly,  i'm  picking  up  some  strong  virgo  energy.  quiet,  reserved  vibes.  it  feels  like  they  can't  quite  control  themselves  when  they  get  caught  up  in  things.  i  get  the  sense  that  wherever  they  go,  they  bring  a  bit  of  chaos  with  them.  like,  there's  always  drama  surrounding  them.  they  spend  a  lot  of  time  thinking  about  you,  though,  mostly  on  social  media.  they  might  be  watching  you  in  a  sneaky  way,  either  through  other  people  or  maybe  even  a  fake/spam  account.  it’s  like  they’re  obsessed  with  decoding  everything  you  post,  over-analyzing  little  things  like  when  you  post  a  song  on  your  story  and  it  has  some  hidden  meaning.  they’ll  think  it’s  for  them,  even  though  they  haven’t  said  a  word  to  you.  they’re  really  into  you,  but  they're  scared  of  being  vulnerable  and  what  might  come  with  that.  they  act  like  they  don’t  care,  though.  super  nonchalant  on  the  surface.  now,  as  i’m  tapping  more  into  their  energy,  i  feel  like  this  could  be  someone  from  your  past.  maybe  they  pulled  back  at  some  point?  like  they  were  in  your  life,  but  then  went  distant.  or  maybe  it’s  just  someone  who’s  afraid  of  messing  up  whatever  connection  you  have.  they  hold  back  a  lot,  maybe  even  in  denial  about  their  feelings,  or  they  distract  themselves  to  avoid  thinking  about  you.  they’re  really  struggling  to  balance  you  and  their  daily  life.  they’re  trying  to  keep  this  obsession  under  wraps,  so  it  doesn't  interfere  with  what  they’ve  got  going  on.  they’re  quietly  longing  for  you,  watching  your  growth  from  afar.  and  if  they’re  someone  from  the  past,  they  still  have  some  hope,  even  though  they’re  not  doing  anything  about  it.  i  feel  like  there  are  two  possible  situations  going  on  here,  but  that's  the  vibe  i'm  getting.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ PILE TWO i  feel  like  you  probably  know  this  person,  even  if  it’s  not  really  a  big  secret  or  anything.  but,  they’re  giving  off  some  serious  ego  vibes.  like,  it's  through  the  roof.  they  might’ve  flirted  with  you  before  or  done  things  to  get  you  to  focus  on  them,  even  if  it  was  kinda  subtle.  i’m  not  totally  sure,  but  maybe  they’re  someone  you’ve  rejected  before?  or  they  just  feel  ignored  by  you,  like  you  don’t  really  see  them,  even  though  they  try  really  hard.they  want  your  attention,  and  they’re  not  getting  it.  they’re  obsessed  with  why  you  don’t  notice  them  the  way  they  want.  and  honestly,  i  don’t  think  it’s  something  you’re  doing  on  purpose.  i  think  you  might  just  have  a  hard  time  picking  up  on  who’s  into  you.  this  person  has  been  fixated  on  you  for  months,  maybe  even  years,  and  hasn’t  told  anyone.  it’s  kinda  lowkey  draining  them.  like,  this  obsession  is  exhausting,  but  they  can’t  stop.  they  know  everything  about  you,  down  to  the  tiniest  details.  they’re  constantly  watching  you.  they’re  scared  of  being  vulnerable,  but  it’s  like  they  can’t  stop  mentally  obsessing  over  you.  thinking  about  you  kind  of  hurts  them,  if  that  makes  sense.  they  feel  invisible,  like  they  go  unnoticed,  and  it  stings.  i  get  the  sense  that  they’re  at  a  crossroads,  like  they  have  to  either  let  go  or  finally  confess  how  they  feel.  they’re  trying  to  cut  off  those  feelings,  like  in  their  head  they’re  saying  no,  but  their  heart  keeps  pulling  them  back.  they’re  leaning  toward  keeping  quiet,  but  that  obsession  keeps  growing  stronger.  they  want  to  choose  you,  but  they’re  scared  it’s  not  safe  to  make  a  move.  i’m  picking  up  some  strong  fire/air  energy,  but  leaning  more  towards  the  fire  side.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ PILE THREE this  person  definitely  feels  hurt  by  you.  i  get  the  vibe  that  you  chose  someone  else  over  them.  whether  it  was  on  purpose  or  not,  they  saw  it  happen,  and  that  stings.  that  hurt  is  kind  of  feeding  their  fixation  on  you,  and  they  just  keep  thinking  about  it  over  and  over.  like,  they  can’t  get  any  peace  from  it.  they’re  really  stuck  in  this  emotional  cycle,  like,  they  have  this  fantasy  that  they  cling  to,  and  somehow,  in  their  mind,  it  makes  the  pain  feel  worth  it.  this  is  the  quiet,  distant  kind  of  obsession,  not  the  loud,  dramatic  type.  it’s  more  like  someone  who  watches  you  from  afar,  probably  hoping  that  one  day  things  could  be  different  between  you  two.  they  might  even  wish  for  a  chance  with  you,  especially  if  you’re  already  involved  with  someone  else.  they’re  idealizing  you  a  lot,  to  the  point  it’s  almost  delusional.  like,  you  know  how  people  worship  celebrities?  it’s  that  kind  of  feeling.  deep  down,  they  probably  know  this  is  all  a  bit  off,  but  they  can’t  help  it.  they’re  constantly  pushing  these  feelings  down  and  trying  to  control  it.  this  person  is  putting  up  a  serious  fight  to  keep  their  emotions  in  check.  their  obsession  is  far  from  passive,  though.  if  anyone  even  brings  you  up,  they  feel  the  need  to  defend  themselves,  and  it  might  come  off  kind  of  rude  or  harsh.  it’s  like  they  feel  emotionally  attacked  just  thinking  about  you.  they  might  think  it’s  impossible  to  get  you  back  for  whatever  reason,  like  they  messed  up  or  never  fully  confessed  how  they  felt.  honestly,  it’s  giving  me  12th  house  energy

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ PILE FOUR this  person  definitely  has  a  sexual  attraction  to  you.  there’s  this  push  and  pull  energy  with  them.  it’s  like  they  want  you,  but  they’re  not  really  sure  how  to  get  you.  their  obsession  is  all  fueled  by  fantasy  and  desire,  not  by  emotional  stability  or  any  real  connection.  this  could  be  someone  who  flirted  with  you  but  never  actually  followed  through.  maybe  you  rejected  them,  or  you  just  didn’t  chase  after  them,  and  that’s  only  made  them  more  fixated  on  you.  i  feel  like  you  either  ignored  them  or  weren’t  emotionally  available  to  them,  which  has  only  made  things  worse  for  them.  they  might  try  to  act  all  cool  and  like  they’re  over  it,  but  deep  down,  they’re  still  obsessed  and  restless. i  have  to  say.  they’re  kind  of  goofy  about  it.  like,  they’ve  tried  so  hard  to  move  on,  and  they  keep  failing.  it’s  almost  funny  how  much  you  haunt  them.  whether  they  walked  away  from  you  or  you  walked  away  from  them,  emotionally,  they’ve  never  really  left.  they’re  trying  to  balance  this  obsession,  but  it’s  like  they  can’t  shake  the  feeling  that  your  energy  is  still  hanging  around  them.  it’s  weird.   they’re  probably  waiting  for  the  “right  time,”  like  waiting  for  some  divine  timing  to  kick  in.  you  know  the  saying,  “if  it’s  meant  to  be,  it’ll  happen”?  they’re  kinda  buying  into  that,  thinking  that  eventually,  you  two  will  cross  paths  again  or  talk  again.  or  just  somehow  interact.  they  definitely  believe  in  that  “one  day”  moment.  this  person  is  obsessed  in  a  quiet  but  persistent  way.  it’s  like  their  mind’s  on  a  loop,  especially  when  they’re  alone  with  their  thoughts.  i’m  picking  up  on  some  water  sign  energy  with  a  bit  of  fire  thrown  in  there

[lesbiansanemi]

Like idk y’all kinda suck. Y’all have made being gay/trans on this website in-fucking-sufferable recently. I know there has always been “discourse” but whatever the fuck is happening rn feels inescapable if you happen to post about anything gay or trans at all it doesn’t matter how many people I block or unfollow I’m still just constantly watching transmascs and transfems scream at each other over who has it worse and insinuating the other never suffers at all and everyone refuses to call themselves bisexual again for some reason and we’re acting like male privilege isn’t a thing and attacking everyone who says otherwise and we hate asexual and non-binary people again and acting like TMA/TME is an all encompassing dichotomy despite the fact that it just doesn’t always work that way (ESPECIALLY once race gets factored in) and if anyone says otherwise they hate trans women or something and idk. Idk idk idk idk man. This shit sucks and I hate reading it and watching everyone act like it’s this intense and I do genuinely think some people would benefit from accepting that they’re gonna have privilege in certain areas cuz really I think that’s where so much of it stems from. Everyone wants to be the most oppressed person in the room and not being that is some kind of moral failing. If you’re white, you’re gonna have white privilege which affects your being queer. Some of you have male privilege and claiming you don’t just because you’re some flavor of queer doesn’t mean you don’t. Sometimes people who aren’t transfem are going to be victims of transmisogyny which is why, while useful in certain conversations, I don’t think TMA/TME is the “perfect” way to separate transfems from transmascs and YEAH sorry idc what you say, it is just another version of saying your agab. We’re throwing around “theyfab” again as a way to shut afabs up. People are targeting and harassing transfems for saying ANYTHING about their specific oppressions and it’s just like. I THINK YOU ALL SUCK !!!!! I THINK EVERYONE GENUINELY ENGAGING IN THIS AND DOING THESE THINGS KINDA FUCKING SUCKS! You’re not helping anything, your energy could go towards so many other more useful things, you’re just attacking other people and making them feel like shit over non-issues in the grand scheme of things esp given how many anti-lgbtq laws and policies are cropping up in A LOT of countries. And I’m just fucking tired of seeing it man. Do something other than fighting with people on tumblr.com over which sect of trans people suffers the most by a huuuuuuge margin apparently. there is always going to be more overlap than there isn’t why are we acting like that’s not true and we’re all entirely different species in an environment that doesn’t have enough food for us all and we could simply never understand one another IF everyone could stop thinking they’re the center of the universe for five fucking seconds

[yourfaveisintersex]

Hey just a question, but I have an OC who's intersex and I've realized that giving him gynecomastia probably is not sufficient rep, so I was considering doing some research into larger variations that can cause that among other things. Any recommendations for ones to look into? I was thinking maybe PAIS, but I'm not sure if that would be best.

Honestly, just giving him gynecomastia can be sufficient rep IMO, but researching specific variations to give him based off that is cool as shit also! You could learn what other intersex traits you could toss at him as a result— such as cryptorchidism. which basically just means "balls haven't dropped" /lh

PAIS (or MAIS!) can work, but some other variations you could toss his way could be...

• Aromatase Excess Syndrome (body makes too much of the hormone that turns testosterone into estrogen, so huzzah hyperestrogenism happens)

• Klinefelter Syndrome (XXY chromosomes; you could add more chromies (XXYY) make or him mosaic if you want a different phenotype? i.e. XX/XXY mosaicism, I read a paper that talked about a teenage boy with that layout it was kinda intriguing, though warning it uses DSD and other pathologizing language (link))

• You could give him ovotestes? Which with the above linked ovotestes just sort of Happened but they often do with sex chromosome mosaicism. Since they tend to go hand in hand, like PCOS and CAH seem to do. And people with ovotestes have VEEERY variable bodies, from being typical-appearing female or male, to all range of phenotypes in between and outside of the binary.

Undoubtedly there's probably a whole bunch of other variations that slipped my mind, but these are just some things you can consider! I'd recommend checking out the hyperlinks under my "what is intersex" question in my faq post (first link in my pinned)! It has glossaries of variations you can parse through and see how you feel. If you have any other questions comments whatever related to your OC or not, feel free to throw them at me!

[fictionfixations]

might not necessarily relate but man ive had this eating me up inside for ages because i just felt too worried about writing this down anywhere that id hurt someones feelings but like man its been years now its probably fine

Once I was writing this fic of like a crossover and I was just kinda having fun writing whatever and on like whims so it was kind of a mess but I had fun writing it whenever I got bursts of inspiration of like 'oh hey what if [this happens]'

and then i got a comment that like to be fair was constructive criticism and pointed out a bunch of loopholes and inconsistencies n stuff like that and also how ooc my characters were and that i might as well have just made it an oc thing

which. i really appreciated because yeah im still learning how to write and still improving but it was.. really demotivating

that i kind of just stopped writing that fic entirely. i tried to like take a long time before i posted a chapter telling my readers im discontinuing the fic because i didnt want them to feel like they were the cause of it since yknow they were just trying to be helpful but like man.... it just sucked all the fun out of it for me

and like i mean now im more likely to read like character analyses and like how people would describe their personality on wikis and write fics more on media ive recently consumed so i remember it better in comparison to stuff i havent seen in years and just winging it, and like not skipping over stuff thats really important to the story im telling but i skip over because i dont know how to write it (its really just a letting someone in on the 'truth' so idk man i didnt think i had to summarize it but i guess i did like a big build up to it so sure) and like trying to keep a better track of whats going on so its not all over the place

and like im better at writing people reacting to stuff and like actually doing something which i felt weird about for the longest time because thered just be this one character yapping with a lot of dialogue that i just didnt know how to have the other character react

but sometimes i just think back to like longg paragraphs of notes i had planning out stuff that i kinda wanted to add into that fic (based off of other media id consumed and really liked) and i just never got to do it cause when i was thinking it up it was really fun, and i thought it was fun even if i wasnt entirely sure how i was gonna write it

but then i read that comment and then i look at my notes and then they just.. kind of feel really dumb. like, like its such a bullshit ending idea and just.. didnt know how to keep writing because then i just kind of started being overly critical when i didnt even have the whole idea of the fic planned, it was just literally something i started on a whim and kept continuing on a whim with hella inconsistent updates, just whenever i felt like it but itd still sit in the back of my head brainstorming the whole time so it was still important to me

but ohh man people are taking this seriously

..i should take this seriously

and then i didnt have anything to write. or like id think back on it and want to write something but then id have all these doubts weighing down on me that i just kept putting it on the backburner

which really sucked. (anyway that kinda made me not really want to write multichapter fics for the long term and instead turn them into oneshots that i can return to whenever but most likely not since theyre 'done', and whenever i take too long on a multichapter fic its like whatever im not getting anywhere lets just discontinue)

dont get me wrong i love comments but i also understand like okay you can think oh they could probably do this part better and wanna give constructive criticism and feedback and advice, but its like.. if they dont want it then dont give it?? this is such a complete topic change from the post im reblogging but i dont know where else to put it and am not confident in it standing okay as its own post

and im sure there are ways to word feedback in a way thats less negative and like wouldnt make someone lose motivation but would instead push them to do better like ooh thats another way of how i can do this, but you remember one kinda more negative comment then a bunch of positive ones 😭

also this might be completely different to other people they can prob take it, i just take comments to heart way too much

ive seen some fics that will have in notes that theyre open to like constructive criticism and thats what i mean where its okay to do stuff like that

so like you can share stuff then or if you do write comments on other fics then maybe try to word it in a way that wont make them feel like what theyre doing is stupid or something 💀

like once i got this comment that was like oh you can separate the paragraphs more and that was a nice comment (dont remember the exact wording) and it also changed how i wrote cause before i wrote these huge blocks of text but now theyre more separated into smaller paragraphs and easier to digest

and i found that very helpful, i think it really comes down to the wording since tones are pretty hard to tell in writing (minus tone tags, i dont see a lot of them tbh)

anyway uh

thanks for reading this long ass post

i dont really know if this will resonate with a lot of people or if like i just have like a completely wrong take or if its sounding like i dont like comments (I really do appreciate comments they give me the extra boost i need to write stuff because it tells me that there are people who really like my writing)

but dude ive had this stuck in my head for like 2-3 years and not once have i written anything even hinting towards it because i kept feeling really really bad and didnt want them to feel bad if they were still reading my stuff

but man i just needed to get this out there. get my thoughts out. now ill just start to forget about this now that ive given it an outlet

anyway trying to get back to the actual topic of the post i reblogged

i try to be more accurate and closer to canon now but sometimes i just gotta accept it like man... this is gonna be hella ooc. but yknow what? thats okay. and since its ooc what if i just do THIS and THIS??? whose looking for accuracy points?? not me. also probaly tagging out of character is a good idea just in case so if anyones like 'AGHH THEYRE SO OOC' '*points to tag* WELL YEAH???'

anyway i kinda got that comment when i was a bit more insecure in my writing but in those years ive accepted that yeah fanfiction is just whatever man, its made by the fans for the fans so who the hell cares if its like hella bullshitty or something idfk man theres no limit to what random ass shit you can do in fics (and sometimes that shit is hella funny too) and who cares if its not like professional ass writing (do we look like professionals??? ....*stares at the fic writers who have actually published books* i mean well not all of us LMAO)

also its really really easy to just.. stop reading if you find something in a fic you dont like. you dont have to comment at all. its that easy.

theres so many fics out there that im sure theres one that'll be your cup of tea so its fine if you find one you dont like, just try another one

also dont be afraid to just turn off comments or some shit and keep writing 💀 cause at the end of the day we're kinda just writing what we want, no one else, we just end up posting it for other fans to enjoy so i say do whatever makes you happy, dont let what other people say (who are being negative) affect what you write because at that point wheres the fun in writing?? wheres the charm of doing whatever the fuck you want, or even the charm of planning out a full on story of this idea that you really like and want to expand upon???

anyway hope i made some sense

what do u think about people whining when you change a character too much in a fic? it’s fanfiction after all, i don’t want my silly cringey fics to be canon, but i’m scared to write for a certain character because they’re not into romance in canon and people jump to each others throats because some people write fiction about them and others say its implied not canon.

I have talked about this before (tap here for how I feel about the matter).

but to sum it up, I don’t “think” about people who whine about this, except that they’re entitled, I block them and then I forget about them.

what I do think / what I believe is that writers can write whatever they want. you can write whatever you want. it’s your work, your creation. write it for yourself, it’s so much more fun than writing just to please random strangers on the internet.

[ray-from-outer-space]

because i just saw some people complain about blasphemy in exploding kittens

I wanna recommend Exploding kittens on Netflix. it's based on a card game with the same name. The series is exactly as unhinged as the cards in the game and I think it's pretty entertaining if you like these kinds of series.

So it's a cartoon where god is forced to reside on earth as a cat helping a family. And hell sends the CEO of hell to earth (also as a cat) to learn how to be evil. And we see them and the family interacting. Bit hard to explain but the trailer captures pretty well whats happening.

The series is probably trying to offend as many people as possible. So it's probably not for anyone, which is okay. But I love that it's offending some hardcore Christians.

[murdockhawkeye]

so a while back i made a sorta-timeline of h2o's first season, and i even went as far as to study up on the australian school year, and then from that - i made a guess of when the school year started in s2 based off the full moon in the first ep (february 5th)

which then led me to guess the first days of school in the eras of season 1 and season 2 (february 6th and february 4th respectively) just because

and then when i looked at it again, i realized that meant rikki seriously started beef with not just zane, but also miriam and lewis in like the first week of school

rikki stole zane's spark plug because he was a pig. she and miriam were hostile to each other in ep two. and then in that same ep, lewis says he and rikki had their "issues" in the past, which ? i want to know more

like. what did rikki and lewis even do to get on each other's bad side? does that have to do with why cleo was so awkward, when rikki asked how she knew her name?

so anyways, the girls' anniversary is on valentine's day 💕 love that for them

[a-lonely-dunedain]

the "platonic explanation" is that I feel like shipping cheapens a perfectly good friendship and turns it into something shallow. Takes something that could have been interesting and turns it into just another dime-a-dozen romance you can find in a million other stories. Sands off anything cool or unique about the relationship and the characters so they can slot neatly into some little "A and B" dynamic. The Sunshine x Grumpy the Blue-coded x Red-coded the Cinnamon Roll x Killer. You just have to cut them down to fit in the Romance Box™.

Suddenly every interaction, every look they exchange, every word they speak, has to be seen through the lens of attraction, it HAS to be about the attraction, nothing else matters, they cannot have feelings about each other unrelated to that. If they like each other it's because they are attracted to each other, if they hate each other it's because they are attracted to each other, there can be no other reason behind their actions and feelings, nothing else about them as people matters anymore. They aren't people anymore, they aren't characters anymore, they are just "A and B".

The "platonic explanation" is that lately I've just found friendships SO much more compelling and freeing and cool, y'know? (obligatory ''I'm not bashing you if you like shipping I just Do Not Get It Personally'')

[notdeadyetnatural]

Was working on redecorating/rearranging my room and I finally got to my destiel wall + designated shelf space

Art was previously scattered around my room and my spn stuff was all over different shelves, but now it's all together! (with the exception of one bigger print by archervale that's slightly below the shelf in this pic)

[batsplat]

It's a thing I already knew but all your beautiful analysis really made obvious (to me) how much of a grudge holder vale is. That man is never letting it go he's gonna hold his grudges into his grave

you know, I do think this is an interesting issue, because I'm not sure this is true of all his grudges. just sticking here with the grudges he accumulated in his capacity as a competitor, rather than just his general approach to life or whatever... how you judge this will kinda depend on how you feel about the 'reconciliation' he's experienced with some of his rivals - and whether you read the whole thing as sincere or not. now, personally I reckon he still dislikes biaggi, but also you are allowed to just dislike people so I'll give him a pass for that. some of the others, I'm a little more convinced by the whole reconciliation schtick

let's get valentino's take:

interesting that he mentions those three together, isn't it? and like, he's still not messaging biaggi or inviting him to his home - "even with max" kind of tells you all you need to know - but the other two? they said some proper nasty things to each other over the years!! I mean, the casey rivalry, there's some remarks from both sides where quite frankly I think I would struggle just a touch to get over it

I don't know, obviously this could all be pr stuff, but I kind of feel like... y'know, why bother? it's 2022, you're retired, who gives a fuck? sure it's a good look to be all magnanimous, sure it can be a bit of a way of twisting in the knife to the guys left in the cold, but also, who would care if you don't play nice? I think especially with jorge, you surely don't need to do all that, inviting him to your home and dancing with him... (which, again, some of the spats those two had...) and with the casey rivalry, if there's one guy who's still hung up about what happened between the pair of them, it's obviously casey (speaking of blokes who can hold a grudge). maybe this is giving valentino too much credit, but personally I buy it's more or less sincere. there's nothing to really indicate he's still particularly bothered by any of their past disagreements - he's basically going for the 'all's fair in love and motorcycle racing' approach. he knows he was an asshole, he accepts they were assholes too, whatever, that's how these things work. he's generally a fan of drama in rivalries, unsurprisingly, and he was happy enough to contribute his fair share - but he does see it as fundamentally being part of the game

to point out the obvious, check out who he's left out: sete and marc. that's where he can't let go of the grudges... because it's not about the offence itself as much as it is about the betrayal. this is the thing with valentino, right, it's about what kind of bond you had with him. if you weren't his friend in the first place and then piss him off as a rival then, y'know, whatever. obviously he's going to be vicious in trying to get back at you, but also he's really not going to waste his time feeling too aggrieved by it. I mean, think about how all the bullshit between him and casey dropped off sharply post-2012... from valentino's end anyway. think about how jorge and valentino pretty quickly got on again whenever they weren't fighting for supremacy within yamaha. they weren't friends in the first place, then they were enemies for competitive reasons for a while there, then it's over and valentino is basically happy enough to call it bygones

but... if it's a certain kind of bond you had with him and then you wrong him... that little mental list of all his past grievances, all your past transgressions, that's where it comes in. that's where he ices you out. denies you any emotional warmth. ensures that any interaction going forward is conducted entirely on his terms. where even any public 'reconciliation' won't truly be sincere.... or, certainly he's not going to forget what happened. if something else happens... it's like you've always got the potential of triggering this lingering resentment, in a way, where all that past stuff is still primed and ready to be called upon. he certainly doesn't just let it go

or, as he puts it in his autobiography:

Biaggi and I never talk to each other. I mean, we've never had a real conversation, anything that's lasted more than the requisite time to insult each other or put each other down, in the nastiest way possible. In any case, I don't hate him. It's true, we've never been friends, but hatred is something different, and that's too serious a word to describe our relationship. Far too serious. No, we have a reciprocal antipathy. No doubt this is a result of what we do for a living and the fact that we both want to win every single time. And perhaps it's also a function of the fact that we have very different personalities and very different ways of seeing things. Still, I don't think this means we hate each other, as some journalists have written. I think I could feel hatred for someone, but only for someone far worse than anything Biaggi has done. For example, if I were betrayed by a friend, then, yes, I could hate him. But Biaggi will never betray my friendship for the simple reason that we are not, and never have been, friends. Our relationship is very clear: we compete on the track - outside the track, each goes his own way. You could say we detest each other cordially.

... I mean. he said it, not me. and given this book was first published in '05... biaggi can't betray his friendship because they were never friends... I'm not saying he's thinking about sete, but it has to at least be a possibility, right? he's talking about one rivalry here and refusing to even mention the other... and the one he's refusing to mention is the one where he was friends with the other bloke. I don't know, maybe that's reading too much into it! and anyway, even if this passage wasn't really about sete, it's obviously still revealing. "detest each other cordially" is essentially what he was doing with casey and jorge (or from his point of view in any case, not entirely sure they'd agree with that). the grudge comes when he feels let down by you... and then, yes, he'll never let it go

of course, he's willing to set aside his grievances for a while if there's sufficient motivation for him to do so. in 2009, when he had so definitively won that rivalry with sete, why bother kicking up a fuss? in 2016, quite frankly it was just too much, and it was getting to the point where it was obviously hurting him too. on the one hand there was the media furore that had been going on non-stop since sepang, on the other hand it was also hurting his own approach to racing. there's reports from the time how visibly aggrieved he still was in the first few races of the season, and it took until they got back to europe for him to... y'know, have fun again. it's not sustainable to be walking around with a constant dark cloud over your head and broadcasting burning resentment towards your two main rivals. certainly not for someone like valentino - he needs to be having fun! the slight rapprochement needed to happen, in a way, because otherwise those years would have been even worse for everyone involved. but that doesn't actually translate to forgetting any of those grudges. this is about convenience more than anything else

goes to show, really... most of the time he doesn't take these things personally. I talked about it a bit in this post, how maybe it's also something that changed over time for him: the question of whether he was willing to develop these kinds of bonds in the first place with competitors... because he does possess a certain level of self-awareness in terms of what these kinds of rivalries are like and what they do to interpersonal relationships. ideally, you don't want to be hurt by a friend like that, right? better not to have that kind of emotional attachment with your competitors in the first place. how unfortunate it'd be if all those years after sete the circumstances aligned for him to see a competitor as something like a friend again... because, after all, those are the only people who could betray him. those are the only people where he thinks he could truly hate them

[marsbotz]

ok this one is pretty fun still

[everythingsinred]

Hi, I'm sorry, I know it's been a long time but I found an old post of yours where you say that the mangaka of Gakuen Alice said that Natsume and Mikan relationship is not safe or comfortable, did they really say that? I had no idea. What else has the author said about their relationship? I'm curious (⁠ㆁ⁠ω⁠ㆁ⁠)

hi <3

There's really no worries about ever sending me an ask, especially if it's GA related. I'll pretty much always answer <3

And that would be from the Memorial Book, where, according to some fan translations I've seen here and otherwise online (because there is no official English translation), Higuchi Tachibana said something along the lines of Natsume not getting too comfortable or sure of himself or thinking he "won." Essentially she's implying Ruka and Hotaru still have a shot with Mikan because she might change her mind about Natsume so he shouldn't get cocky or some other bullcrap like that.

I feel like it's understandable that I despise that line of thinking so I more or less ignore the Memorial Book and everything about the ending in general (excluding the Little Red Riding Hood comic and the HotaRuka crumbs). I've talked at length about why that type of commentary bothers me here. I just generally don't really care much about what the mangaka says anymore. I love her story and I love her art but her personal opinions, even about her own characters, do not matter to me at all.

I'm not sure what else she said in the Memorial Book or otherwise. She mentioned Natsume would have a slightly longer life because of Mikan's alice stone but that he'd still die young, and after that Mikan would probably be with Ruka (if the picture she drew of them together is supposed to be taken as canon). She mentioned somewhere (I don't recall where) that Natsume wasn't planned to be the "victor" but he just emerged in the lead at some point and she went along with it, which I always took to be a bit ridiculous because SHE WROTE THIS STORY. The characters lead you places but if she really preferred Ruka as the one Mikan ended up with then she should have written that from the beginning and IMHO, it was always Natsume from the start so no I don't buy that.

I realllyyyyyy don't like being negative about GA so I usually don't think about the canon ending, Memorial Book, or Higuchi Tachibana much. I love this manga with my whole heart and always will, but I really don't like it when creators rag on something fans love just to be edgy or contrary or whatnot. It makes me feel like they don't respect me for liking something THEY made, and if they don't respect me then I don't really wanna respect them. I feel similarly about actors shitting on past projects I like, but this one takes the cake in making me feel Not Great because of how much I love GA and NatsuMikan. It's just a huge slap in the face and always was, since the first time I read that comment of hers.

Since then, neither the canon ending nor the Memorial Book have existed to me.

Death of the author applies to lots of works but to me it has always applied to GA and always will!

[wackywatchdotcom]

btw i think for tadc discussion posts where i ramble abt the show (be it analysis or meta stuff or just me thinking abt it) im just gonna start using the tag Circus Discussion... i was thinking of that tag for a while and it still feels too silly but also its the only one i can think of that isnt SUPER silly. plus its vague enough so i can use it for a wider variety of posts (cus some things i dont think anything like 'analysis' or 'meta' would actually fit, cus its not alwaays really either of those, so i think discussion is more broadly applicable). im gonna work on tagging posts w this cus i have a bit to sort thru :] (this blog has 654 posts and will have 655 when i post this)

[s4pphicyearning]

rant in the tags. ignore