#i really was starting to think i'd never get this written

[sqgeism]

hey there!!! love your work sm eheheh

anyway, i was wondering if you could (perchance) do a vampire reader x dr ratio? preferably where the reader is STARVING and bites him lolol

stay safe and stay silly!!

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵 𐙚 take a look into my eyes | dr. ratio and anaxagoras (seperate) x gender neutral reader

💌 — ; can you feel the tension ? between us boy, i know you want this potion ! bloodstains : a course of how to have a vampire lover. written by anaxagoras and dr. ratio.

love mail — hi anonnie ! thank u sm for requesting >< misread the comment originally and wrote vampire anaxagoras b4 scrapping as i reread it (;´Д⊂) anaxa's is lowkey suggestive.. experimental fic.. and if you can give me criticism on that part i'd really appreciate it cus i don't write make outs often (´；ω；`) this was so weirdly long mama help

,to be quite frank, dr. ratio figured it out before you revealed yourself to him. it explained why you seemed to never sleep, or your fast regeneration, things like that. so when you two started dating, he kept an eye on how you satiated your appetite. even if you didn't like it.. fresh, red meat from butchers weirdly worked. instead of buying the packaged stuff—ratio accompanied you to a butcher every week to get a big slab of undrained cow meat. then it'll be your meal till it would no longer suffice.

unfortunately, not only did it not taste good, but it was barely enough to keep you functioning. you had enough strength to move and do usual tasks, but your power was significantly weaker, as well as regeneration. your body responds negatively to the lack of proper blood, but still accepts it as such. like forcing yourself to eat uncooked meat. (which is what you were doing)

and because of your weakening state, and having your arm chopped off after a battle.. it was regenerating, worry not (albeit very slow), you two got into an argument. "your cowardice is killing you." ratio began with a sharp tone, causing you to scoff. "what am i supposed to do, ratio? bite random people on the streets?" you retorted, and he lets out a forced, amused laugh.

"your solution stands before you, (name)."

he looms over you. "bite me, for aeon's sake. you think a measly bite will hurt, compared to the suffering you go through?" he's never sounded so.. mad, but gentle. his hand grips your unharmed shoulder, grip like a vice yet still tender. "bite me." he demands, yet also pleads.

dr. ratio begging is a sight you never thought you'd see, but his eyes pierce through you in complete seriousness. he won't let you leave this conversation without a bite mark on his neck, and you don't remember how long it's been since you've had mortal blood. "..f-fine."

in your weakened state, your legs force themselves to stand. your body really only has the strength to lean against him, as his arms wrap around you to keep you stable. your head weakly makes its way to his exposed bicep, and his hand guides you, knowing it likely won't hit anything vital.. and it's the easiest to access currently. after all, your other arm is far from fully regenerating, and ratio was starting to worry that the blood you had wasn't enough.

slowly, your mouth opens—revealing eager teeth but still hesitant. you hover over his arm for a bit, before slowly biting down.

he doesn't wince, not at all, but he does grunt at the initial bite. he listens to you slowly feed, feeling the blood drain from his body as he stands tall. and while he's faltering, you grow stronger. hell, your intact arm grips his hips as you dig deeper. little mumbles as you suck on his arm, like it's the last drop of blood you'll ever have.

you're brought back to reality as ratio's head slumps against yours and you pull your teeth out quickly, licking the bite and stopping any more blood with a cloth. "ratio!"

you don't even realize that your other arm has regenerated as you use it to stabilize him. guiding him back down on the chair you were just sat on as he groans. he can't speak, he's too lightheaded to try. but he feels lips press against his and a whisper of a sorry before he completely slips.

you care for him till he wakes up. feeling much.. much stronger, but needing to communicate how they'll go on forward. after all, you liked that a bit too much. and with the way ratio's heart was racing, you can make a wild guess that it was either adrenaline or attraction.

anaxa doesn't feel too weird about your vampirism. it explained the long sleeves constantly, big hats and umbrellas, fangs that came with sharp nails.. typical vampire lover packaging.

though something he found intriguing, was that you never drank raw, mortal blood. it was always blood bags.. nothing that had a beating heart. you were always so delicate that way.. even as your body physically withered, you wouldn't have your fangs get anywhere close to a human.. especially not anaxa.

but coming with you when you were hungry always.. saddened him. after getting your hands on a blood bag that are provided to keep those of your kind that aren't too far gone.. at least a little sane—you clearly never liked it. described it as too cold, bitter, and was the vampire equivalent of spoiled milk.

it didn't help all too much either. while it kept your hunger at bay, you were still much weaker compared to your full potential. you could transform, regenerate quickly, hide in shadows.. but you could only do the last one. and as previously established, even if regeneration is part of your abilities, it was greatly weakened. your body didn't have enough energy or blood to regenerate with, therefore straining your physical and mental.

and it was a great trouble for you, because the demands of an astral express member was starting to get rougher. all while you weren't regenerating in time to be able to meet what was expected of you. missions were getting rougher, injuries were worsening, and your body couldn't catch up to it all.

so that leads you here, a large gash in your face as you lay in anaxa's lap, waiting for the pain to disappear as you rustle and turn, unable to really rest due to the uncomfortable sensation. you can feel your muscles trying to pull themselves back together, skin sparing no effort to resort itself. and anaxa is doing no better. he pushes your hair away to see the full extent of the wound, and his heart aches. you're in so much pain.. yet you won't do what you have to in order to fix it. "my dove, please." you know what he's going to offer, and you'll refuse it every time. "anaxa, no. i swore i wouldn't bite after turning." yet you aren't getting any better. you've been like this for hours, and changing what you wear won't erase the wounds he knows are still healing beneath your top.

he doesn't want his frustration to get the better of him, but the scholar quietly seethes. you're being so stubborn—for what? too afraid to hurt him? he loves you for your selflessness, but he's not above begging you to be selfish for once.

in the silence of your struggles, his brain is racking to figure out a way to get you to drink his blood. considering his loss of morality and not necessarily caring if something is harmful to him, he doesn't think twice about what happens to him. just as long as you're okay.. staring down at your lips a little too long gives him an idea.

he taps your shoulder softly, and one anaxa's hand makes it's way to your back to slowly guide you back up to him, the other resting on your hip. "my love, i know it's a bad time. but may i kiss you? i know that you're in pain, and i'd like to do anything i can to make you feel better." you seem hesitant at first, thinking your bloodied wound would make you a little.. unattractive to your boyfriend, but it's anaxa, it makes sense why he wouldn't care. so you nod and barely get a breath in before he's all over you.

it isn't the short kisses anaxa has been known for to you, it's hungry. he's practically devouring you, the vampire between you both, might i add. it doesn't help that he's dipping down to you and keeping your head in place with his hand, effectively trapping you in his little plan. the other, while you're too busy melting against his advances, squeezes you—harshly. it causes you to make the sweetest noise that he's sure to relish, but more importantly—your mouth opens just enough for your fangs to be exposed. that's when he forces your lower jaw upwards, making you bite his lip hard enough to bleed.

he groans, no doubt, but he doesn't pull away. in fact, this is where he returns with much more fervor. you panic in realization of what he's done, but anaxa's grip is unforgiving. he's making sure that his blood gets and stays in your mouth.

your struggle doesn't last long, thankfully. because your worry turns into relief, as the long forgotten taste of human blood begins to flood your tastebuds. eventually he doesn't need to hold your head for you anymore, you've recovered from your lightheadedness and began to take initiative as well. kissing him softly and licking the blood clean off of his lips.

when you finish with one last peck, you look at your lover with a bit of conflict. unsure whether or not to be upset or.. thankful. because the pain has stopped, and you feel stronger. your body doesn't ache as much either. "you're a madman." is all you grumble, hitting his chest.

the scholar laughs, burying his head against your hair. "whatever you say, dove."

© sqgeism or wtv (^_^;)

[taran-wood-beast]

So I think the main thing I've learned here is that Kerblam! could have worked if they had just made that guy the World's Most Annoying Piece of Shit Asshole. Like, I'm no fan of the CIA. But if they fed, I dunno, Chris Rufo to the terror dogs from Ghostbusters, I can't really pretend I'd have a problem with that?

I've been wondering for weeks now why McTighe is the one Chibnall era writer to get invited back and it seems pretty clear now that it's because he actually is pretty solid at both characterization and propelling forward an entertaining narrative. He just can't stop stepping on politics rakes Sideshow Bob style.

Also I still haven't forgiven him for girlbossifying Ace

Some little details I really enjoyed here:

* Love when Ncuti rolls his Rs McCoy style.

* The costuming on Conrad and Ruby's first date, where they're both dressed in riffs on Fifteen's outfits.

* The little domestic bits between Kate and her hunky trophy BF. This is how UNIT is supposed to function.

Actually the main thing threatening to completely break this episode is that the eternal tension between "UNIT is a familiar and loveable ad hoc family of Earth based supporting characters we like" (Season 8 UNIT) and "UNIT is a ruthless clandestine international paramilitary with world-ending technology and little to no oversight" (Season 7 UNIT) is stretched to its furthest ever extreme. Another user refers to it as the Avengers-fication of UNIT. I don't think that tension gets resolved here. I'm actually not sure it can be resolved. And I sort of wonder if stretching and prodding at that tension may actually be the point of the exercise for these 45 minutes? It would be in keeping with other deconstructions of aspects of Doctor Who RTD has overseen in the past

Moving on, the actual most interesting part of the episode for me is the "Ruby has PTSD" section. It's deft character work, well acted, and crucially it's an angle on Life After The TARDIS thats never been done before. It gets paid some lip service with Martha but we don't stick around long enough to dig into it. Looking forward to see where they go with this in the finale.

Also the fact that Ruby explicitly cites "getting trapped in a double bass" as one of the things that traumatized her is hysterical. Doctor Who is such a silly silly show but even the silly parts would be completely terrifying if you had to actually experience them!

Also also imagining Belinda one day having a similar conversation but one of her traumatic experiences is "I met some nerds."

Trinity Wells you will always be famous. Also love that we're just stuck with Fox News Trinity Wells now.

Re: the TARDIS scene at the end...You can tell McTighe has only written Jodie's Doctor before now because the Doctor talks like a cop here. It's his version of the Capaldi one-liners in Boom.

I really liked this scene actually. It's completely in keeping with other times the Doctor has gone Vindictive Bastard mode on people who've personally hurt his friends. And its great to see Ncuti get a proper Vindictive Bastard Doctor scene! It's really good, juicy stuff. Just, man. The actual lines he's given...you can really hear the Supercilious Yorkshire Lilt in some of those authoritative moral condemnations...

It's naturally mostly Ncuti's performance that makes it interesting. Because right at the end, when Conrad refuses to show remorse, the look on Ncuti's face is just...sadness. Because this Doctor would be sad about it! He starts the scene seemingly brushing off Conrad's suggestion that the Doctor is there to "save his soul" but then when Conrad refuses to have his soul saved...he's disappointed after all! He was hoping to save his soul! It's a really savvy performance note that cuts against the obvious reading of the scene. People who keep saying they "don't know Ncuti's Doctor" aren't watching!!!

That said, its extremely frustrating that we have three Doctor Lite episodes for a Doctor who might only get 18 and a half episodes total.

[moonyskarma]

dating history in my . . . SINGER REALITY

─ the real list is short, despite what critics may say. the speculated list, however? well, that's another thing. love stories built from lies and paparazzi propaganda. shall we start with what's real?

⋮ ⌗ . . . jamie campbell bower

jamie and I met through mutual friends when I was seventeen. I fell in love with him almost immediately—but thought we would never happen, since he was... well, older. he was twenty-nine when we first met.

in november 2019, 7 months after my 18th birthday, jamie and i publicized our relationship that had begun in august. he was everything i wanted in a boyfriend—charming beyond belief, ever so respectful, the sweetest man i knew. my london boy.

many critics didn't agree with our relationship, especially due to the age gap (twelve years). hateful articles claimed jamie was pedophilic, that he was taking advantage of me.

let it be known that none of that was true.

towards the end of our relationship, jamie and i began to want different things. he was in his early thirties at this time, and was thinking about settling down. i was nineteen, and didn't want that at all.

thus began the beginning of the end. a publicized breakup in august of 2021, an on-and-off situationship that didn't truly end until august of 2022.

arguably the worst time of my life was the breakup.

written about him . . .

╰┈➤ butterflies (august 8, 2020) — my debut album

╰┈➤ casual? (september 10, 2022) — my first EP

╰┈➤ the exit (january 11, 2023) — my first single

╰┈➤ mirrorball (december 1, 2023) — my second EP

╰┈➤ all too well (june 3, 2024) — my second single

╰┈➤ ghosts (august 18, 2024) — my second album

╰┈➤ naked (january 23, 2025) — my third single

as you can probably tell, getting over him and the relationship was a very long (and difficult) process.

p.s. he never did settle down, after all. not without me.

⋮ ⌗ . . . charles leclerc

charles and i met years before we became friends, when i was about twelve and he was fourteen. i'd always been interested in motorsport, and began following his career when he was still in karting. the first time we met was in his last year of karting, when my father arranged a little meet and greet because he knew i had a little crush on charles.

our meeting wasn't anything special. a picture together. he complimented my ferrari t-shirt, and I told him he was going to become my favorite formula one driver one day. he laughed, said "we'll see about that", and that was that.

we met again in 2021 at the silverstone grand prix, a few months before jamie and i publicized our breakup. nothing happened, of course. he was in a relationship at the time, as was i. we became friends, though, occasionally hanging out when he had time between races.

it wasn't until about 2024 that we became much closer. he had broken up with his girlfriend in 2023, and i was still grieving the loss of my relationship with jamie. we began dating casually — i'd come to some of his races when i could, he came to a few of my shows, we'd meet for lunch or dinner.

casual dating turned into serious dating. love letters he'd read before races, whispers that i was his lucky charm, flying back and forth to see him. we publicized our relationship in april of 2025, but it had been going on since about february when we spent valentines day together.

he's my everything. my world. the air i breathe. my soulmate, of course.

written about him . . .

╰┈➤ fever dream (november 9, 2025) — my third album

╰┈➤ better people to leave on read (september 2, 2026) — my fourth single

there will definitely be more written about him as our relationship progresses !!

─ and now, the paparazzi propaganda. the fakest of fake, the outrageous, the how-did-they-even-come-up-with-this kind of crazy. the speculations.

⋮ ⌗ . . . billie eilish

billie and i have known each other since we were really young, and we've been best friends ever since. she's definitely my platonic soulmate, but that's it.

billie was my first kiss when we were teenagers — her 13, me 15 — but we never had feelings for each other.

since me and her are so close and are seen together all the time, the media loves to assume we're dating.

like, no. platonic friendships exist.

⋮ ⌗ . . . yungblud, aka dominic harrison

dom came to one of my shows in 2020. it was my first tour, while he'd been touring before, and he gave me tons of advice. we really hit it off, and became extremely close. he's one of my closest friends.

again, we're seen together a lot. both of us are rather physical people, i suppose, so sometimes it kind of looks like we're all over each other. the only "proof" of our so-called "relationship" is like, out of context photos of us shoving each other around or at dinner or whatever.

so... yeah. nothing going on there.

⋮ ⌗ . . . timothée chalamet

timmy and i met years ago, when we were teenagers. we've been friends ever since. he's practically part of my family, like one of my brothers.

honestly, it's kind of gross how the media takes things out of context. a photo from my instagram of timothée and i in a hotel room, cropped to exclude my brother, is pretty much the only "evidence" of our so-called love affair

⋮ ⌗ . . . thomas depp

this one's just diabolical. THAT IS MY TWIN BROTHER. saw articles about our "romance" and lost my actual mind because what the fuck...

the only reason this speculation began is because some random news platform took a photo of me kissing tom on the cheek and ran with it. HUHHH.

disgusting. like um. what the fuck. and when they were called out THEY DOUBLED DOWN IT AND TRIED TO MAKE OUT LIKE TOM AND I WERE ACTUALLY DATING AND IT WAS TWINCEST. sued them so hard for this shit because no actual way...

this was so fun omg xx

[deadn30n]

ok well, now that i've organized my thoughts and had a few days to myself to marinate, here's what i'm planning on doing with my blog. because let's face it; i overwhelmed myself, and i know it may not have looked that way bc i haven't been all that active ( but that's thanks to my wrist ) but every time i looked at my drafts and asks, i wanted to explode. so

i'm doing a complete cleanup

i'll be clearing up some of my followers, mostly people who've not shown interest, and people that are inactive. i'll be sb'ing just in case there's someone i do sb who wants to interact, they're free to refollow. so if i break mutuals but you wanna write, just refollow i really don't mind.

i'm going to be focusing primarily on plotted interactions from here on out. i think i made mention of this before but just in case, plotted is the best way to go. as well as that, asks will also be the best method of writing with me. i don't necessarily mind spontaneous stuff  ( unless i've specifically asked for it, like i liked a starter call for example )  but i definitely function better when it's pre-plotted, even if it's just a skeleton outline of a plot. something basic to get the ball rolling, it doesn't have to be anything extravagent or heavily thought out.

i've cleaned up my askbox and deleted things i didn't feel i had muse for. there's still plenty in there, but i'll be reblogging memes and stuff periodically. feel free to send me memes even if we've never written before, or already have multiple threads. i literally Do Not Care i love answering asks. just specify muse(s) if needed!

likewise, i'm going to be dropping a good chunk of threads, mostly stuff that wasn't plotted ahead of time. there's some exceptions of course, which i've already messaged people about, but ye. if i dropped something we had this doesn't mean i don't want to write with you, it just means that i wasn't feeling what we had going but i'm open to starting something new. also, as a note, i'd really prefer shorter stuff if possible just bc long threads take the wind out of me but i'm still very much open to writing longer stuff as long as you don't mind it taking me more time to reply.

i'll be making more effort to make the first move. more than likely just sending in memes whenever i see you reblog some, that sort of stuff. if you aren't ok with that, i'd recommend sb'ing me! ( or hb'ing if that's ur thing )

i'm making minor adjustments to my writing style  &&  formatting. so if it seems a little odd from time to time, it's just bc i'm experimenting.

i think it's safe to say that at the moment, my heaviest muses are my SVSSS characters ( Shen Qingqiu, Luo Binghe, Yue Qingyuan, Liu Qingge ), and my HSR characters  ( Welt, Aventurine, Dan Feng, Phainon, Jiaoqiu ). i'm absolutely open to plotting with other characters of mine, this is just something to keep in mind. i know it sounds bad i just can't help it sadflkjghdslfjk they're the loudest right now i fear

i think that's it? i'm making some minor adjustments to my muse list in a few, taking away some characters  &&  adding in some that i didn't have listed before. i've got to update links and shit too but i'll worry about that tomorrow LOL.

if this change of mine doesn't tickle your vibe feel free to sb / hb as desired, i just want to be transparent and straightforward with how i'm handling my blog so i don't overwhelm myself again !

[windvexer]

Hello chicken!

I come to you today with a question I've had for a long time, and I read a post a while ago where you gave tips on entering the astral for people who struggle with it. In this, you mentioned, if I remember correctly, that people who day dream a lot should find a way to tell apart their spiritual travels from daydreams.

The thing is—I'm not only a maladaptive daydreamer since I can remember but also a fiction writer. Meaning my mind comes up with random places and people and story fractures all the time. And when prompted with something, it can run pretty far. I have no way of determining wether or not my spiritual encounters with familiar spirits have been legit or a complete result of my own imagination.

I really wanna know if there's a way to determine if my experience are "real" or made up and how I can go about differentiating them. If you have anything that could help with that I'd be super grateful.

Have a wonderful day and thank you already

We're in reference to this, I think?

This is one of those situations where there are IME never any blanket tips, because everyone has their own needs.

"Real astral travel is fatiguing whereas daydreaming is not" is not a rule of thumb that is helpful to people that don't really get tired astral traveling, or who are exhausted by racing thoughts.

I believe it's vital to experiment for oneself to build up a system of checks and balances that works for you.

That being said here are some ways that travel can be tested (again, consider how these checks may be inadequate depending on the areas you travel, your innate skills, etc).

If you have tips or thoughts to add, please feel free!

You have valid experiences with your spirits if they pan out - if your spirits give you information, spells, techniques, etc., that work. A lot of valid techniques and lore aren't written down, so comparing it to other sources doesn't always work - you have to put it to the test. You can also ask spirits to do things for you - things that should be easily doable - and see if it happens (like, asking them to visit you at a certain time and setting a reminder after the fact).

You can't really control spirits in the astral the way you control daydream characters. Your daydream character can say or do whatever you think even on the slightest of whims. Spirits do not, and if you try to force them to say or do things they can become very upset.

In the astral, there is no story to fracture. It's not a story, there is no narrative. It's a lived experience.

Astral realms are causal, just like our normal physical reality. In a daydream if you realize a character has on the wrong outfit for this scene, based on that mere idea the story might retroactively correct to suddenly have the character be in the right outfit. But in the astral, for a spirit to have on different clothes, they have to go change clothes. And that takes time. They have to leave that location, go to where they keep their clothes, change their clothes, and come back.

There is no fracturing the story into two versions, one where the spirit has on the right outfit from the start, and one where they don't. There is no story.

In a daydream, you control the experience. At the perfect moment, it starts raining in the graveyard for the dramatic reveal. In the astral, you are experiencing something external. You can imagine it's raining, try to force it to rain, or project rain. You might even see rain for a few moments. But your perception will tend to snap back to the actual experience. And then the spirits might be looking at you weird, asking what you're doing. You can't restart the scene because there is no scene.

In a daydream if there is a locked door, that doesn't necessarily stop you in any way. You can know what's behind the locked door, where the key is, how difficult it is to open the door, if there are alternate routes, and so on. You can even know who made the door and the forest the wood came from. The characters might be stuck on one side but you are the omnipotent creator god of that reality and you have all the information you want.

In the astral if you encounter a locked door, you don't automatically know what's behind it. If you don't have the key, you can use magic to unlock it or you can try to break it down. But if you can't, then you can't. If your path is blocked, you won't automatically know any alternative paths forward. The narrative isn't going to be rewritten to account for plot holes; there is no plot. Do you want to know who made the door? Well, how do you intend to find out? Because that information isn't up to you; it exists externally from you.

The characters are at a gorge. The next part of the story is on the other side. Figuring out how to cross the gorge isn't interesting right now, the emotional energy is ready to carry us deeper into the plot. Let's just put a pin in the crossing and figure it out later. For now, we teleport into the future. The characters are on the other side of the gorge, ready to travel into the city.

In the astral, you are stuck on that side of the gorge until you figure out how to cross it. You can imagine or pretend you're on the other side, but eventually you will be bounced back to where you are actually standing.

Daydreams remain static unless you are there to change them. The changes may be sprawling and nigh instantaneous, but they come from you; you are making it up. You are never going to come back to a daydream and realized the fundamental reality of the daydream changed since monday and is irreversible to its prior state.

Astral realms will change on their own whether or not you're there for it. One day a new path appears that was never there before. You can't "switch back" to the other version because there is not more than one version, it's a living area. One day there is a blockage and you can't go to that location. The next day the blockage disappears, or it remains until you resolve it.

Daydreams tend to be low-energy. You can go through the epic history of an empire in 30 minutes. Astral travel tends to be energy-intensive. You can hang out for 15 minutes and talk to one fish in a fountain before you get tired and sleepy.

Similarly, changes in daydreams can be done with nothing more than the energy of a thought; you can raise up houses, neighborhoods, cities, empires, and solar systems with the blink of an eye. In the astral, if you want a bucket of water, you have to pick up the bucket, go to the well, get the water, and walk back. And if it takes you 15 actual IRL minutes, then that's how long it takes you.

My tl;dr is that if it feels like you're an omnipotent multiversal creator god having adventures in endless stories with clear narratives, side-quests, and character arcs, then I'd be more likely to hazard that you're daydreaming. If it feels like you are a person trying to live your got dang life, if you run into problems that require real time and energy to resolve, and if you drop the ball and the world moves on without you - it's more likely you're traveling.

(The only thing I will say is that time in the astral generally doesn't work like how it does here - time can scroll forward very quickly. But if you have time-god powers like editing the past, jumping around from past to present and into alternate timelines, or flash-freezing the universe to walk around in it, I'd be suspicious.

In addition, what worlds you're going to can have a huge impact - personal astral spaces you're fully in control over are, well, much easier to control than external spaces where you're a visitor.)

[sir-kettle-of-countertop]

@menderreplika thank you VERY much for this comment that's exactly what I wanted!! I hope you don't mind the answer being so long it requires a follow-up post >< The questions in order:

>If she has this side effect on the Gestalts, where would they station her?

I imagined Kanaries never being permanently stationed anywhere and just always being on a weekly rotation all over the place - and if they do need to stay in one place for a while, they'd be surrounded only by persona-stable Replikas, yee. They also thus have designation be the same as Pensrose Elsters - so something like KAER-212, KAER-087 etc., no designation of a particular facility cause they're never attached to any.

>Also I wonder how this unit gets along with the same ones, are they linked with each other like KLBRs?

Hmmm I didn't think this one too well, but I pictured kinda... the opposite? That it is very much BEST to avoid having more than one Kanarie around, because of her passive bioresonance amplifying effect - I imagine that they would cause a bioresonance feedback loop that would lead to the units accidentally frying each other's brains (and harming surrounding bioresonant replikas like KLBRs and FKLRs too).

>How does it look like when she starts to degrade?

OHOHO, I want it to look TRAGIC - I'd say a common throughline of getting individuality is them interacting with Replikas (or even occasionally Gestalts - once a week or less is fine, after all) a bit too much and thinking:

Cause she genuinely doesn't initially grasp the full implications of what she's exactly doing by writing decommissioning orders for anyone with even a hint of individuality left and right. She just believes that persona degradation is very bad for them cause AEON said so and that they're a danger for themselves, others and even the society at large if nothing gets done.

HOWEVER. Kanaries are all completely unaware of the self-destruction aura. That even if they were to rebel and try to leave - where could they even leave to? Join other persona-degraded units? She'll get killed. Hide amongst Gestalts? She'll get killed. By the very nature of how Kanaries were created, their existence is very, very lonely.

I also imagine that it is fairly easy for AEON to recognise when a Kanarie herself becomes persona-degraded and "ineffecient". Doesn't do her job quick enough anymore, or develops interests of her own, or becomes too merciful to Replikas - decommissioning order is now written for her. OH BUT THERE'S A FUN PART- there is no need to decommission her in the same way as other Replikas. Oh no. Even in death she can be useful :)

A so-called SENTINEL protocol is deployed whenever a Kanarie shows sufficient persona-degradation. What does it involve? Well, to call back to the paragraph of the initial post:

"As a result, if it's a rare case of it genuinely being REALLY hard to actually assess if somebody is persona-degraded or not? Just wait a little 'til a Canary stops singing"

That. She is purposefully locked in a room with a Replika suspected of persona-degradation - I imagine pretty much almost always not a "low-cost" (e.i. Aras and Eules) Replika but rather one that would be too expensive and/or important to get rid of based on suspicions alone, such as Adlers, Mynahs, Falkes etc. If she is killed? Good, persona-degradation was comfirmed beyond a shadow of the doubt and another persona-degraded unit was already decommissioned - 2 birds were killed with one stone (heh). If she is not killed? Good, that unit could return to their duties and she is send over to the next one to repeat the process at nauseum until she finally dies.

Alternative scenario of the SENTINEL protocol was kinda mentioned in the previous post too, which is simply throw a Kanarie at a sus biores phenomena and see what happens. I keep trying to think what would happen to a corrupted Kanarie, but in nutshell? Very, very, VERY bad stuff would happen. Not only to themselves but to everyone around them. (Iiiii imagine a plot where one particular Kanarie on Vineta manages to attune to a certain signal from outer space and trap everything around herself in a hellish time loop... :) )

And finally I gotta note: "I can imagine it going like, there is a pleasant and innocent convo going on, then she'd give some small advice when leaving and it would be the scariest thing for a persona degraded replika and would send them into spiraling into anxiety. My OC would match the politeness and then play 4D chess with words and fake smiles trying her best not to show the signs of persona degradation :D"

that's EXACTLYYYYY the vibe I wanted to go for hell yeah! And that is def one of the ways how persona-degraded units would try to avoid her, others would likely involve trying to avoid talking with her pretty much altogether by demonstratively performing their duties for example and hoping and praying they get overlooked.

Thank you very very much again for the feedback genuinely I can't express enough how much I appreciate it x> I hope this answers your questions!!

I'm exhausted after doing final assignments the whole day while sick. And I'm just haunted by so many ART PLANS and OC SHIT and AAA HELP I'LL EXPLODE

So to just indulge myself a bit, I gonna bring up one of the many things that haunt me:

HER. OC still in development. In part cause there's one thing I'm afraid of doing which is piling Too Much shit onto her narrow shoulders. Criticism and help really appreciated ><

WALL OF TEXT BELOW THE CUT:

Who is she?? Kanarie, KAER, Catalyst-, Supervision-, Empathy. Gen 6 support bioresonant unit - commonly addressed by her title as Kommissar (Commissary).

What does she do? Well firstly, performs regular inspections of the state of AEON facilities and specifically does check-ups on mental health/persona degradation state of Replikas. Kanarie, in a way similar to Falke, has an aura to her, but not of divinity and authority, but rather of amity and approachability - you can't help but open up to her! She seems so nice, after all! So it's very easy for her to do an assessment by just going around and chatting. She cannot peer into the memories unlike Kolibris, but she has an uncanny ability of understanding exactly what another person feels at any given moment and give a highly accurate judgement of character.

Based on that she compiles a report of recommendations for usually an Adler unit on what to do to about any given Replika. Which ranges from "provide Aras with more flowering plants" to "here's a list of every single unit that needs to be decommissioned and why" - and she doesn't ever flinch about the latter. The opposite really. She's ALWAYS peppy. She's just happy to be doing a good job for the betterment of the Nation! All inefficiencies must be ironed out, they must understand it anf be willing to die for the greater good. She's doing them a favour. Really :)

Her other purpose is being a walking "bioresonance catalyst" - enhancing the efficiency of and also amplifying bioresonance influence. Any and all bioresonant influence, at all times no matter what. Thus if there's any bioresonant hazard, for example - Kanarie is always the first to get hit with it. Being a. You guessed it. Canary in the coalmine.

Kanarie had a very young neural pattern - think something like 18-19 years old. Golden kid, sweet and very smart, but very naive and sheltered, with highly idealistic black and white thinking. Her persona stabilises by helping people and feeling useful - Kanaries are thus allowed to get distracted from their job to go do something else, like for example help a radio station officer.

She used to have another purpose, which was actually something she was originally created for - using her "friendly AoE" to keep people docile. Buuuuuut that didn't... work out due to a very odd issue about her bioresonant abilities:

No matter what, if a Gestalt remains within her general vicinity - think being in the same building - and keeps interacting with her regularly, in this case strictly more than weekly... that Gestalt will inevitably be consumed by either murderous rage towards her and will kill her, or get overwhelmed with primal fear and try to get as far away from her as possible - or kill her in "self-defence" if that fails. Usually leaving lasting psychological damage as a result - cause people affected by it have full memories of WHAT they were doing and what they were thinking whilst being controlled by bioresonant suggestion against their will, creating very strong cognitive dissonance. And ending up traumatized by being forced to brutally murder a defenceless girl.

AEON fucked with universe a bit too hard and accidentally made a Replika that passively tries to destroy herself.

Curiously enough persona-stable Replikas don't get affected by the "fight or flight" aura but persona-degraded do. As a result, if it's a rare case of it genuinely being REALLY hard to actually assess if somebody is persona-degraded or not? Just wait a little 'til a Canary stops singing

So yeah what do y'all think is this a good idea or is it cringe

[withclawandvine]

what we pretend to be, chapter 4

Summary: Azriel was a veteran spy, well suited to the sneaking and solitude that comes with a life in the shadows. He was good at it. He wasn’t good at undercover missions, so he couldn’t hide his shock when new recruit and undercover specialist Elain Archeron was already seated at the conference table, looking beautiful as ever. And then it was dropped on them like a bomb: Azriel and Elain would be sent to the suburbs, posing as a married couple to gather intel on a suspicious man who, according to reports, was in communication with notorious arms dealer, Koschei Sokolov.

Author’s note: aaaand we’re back! and things are finally happening!! i’ve been really excited to share this chapter, which is at least 33% of the reason why it took so long — it just wasn’t living up to my own expectations. BUT i’m feeling pretty good about it now. hopefully we can keep these good vibes going hehe. please enjoy and lemme know what you think!

Tags: SFW, undercover au, fake married, hurt/comfort

Word count: 3.5k

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42105033

prev | start at the beginning

The wheels of the cart were already squealing under the burden of their items, but they couldn’t leave without a coffee maker. The Keurigs were tempting — easy and instantly gratifying. But the coffee the machines produced was mediocre at best, and Elain wouldn’t object to something more sustainable. She picked up a French press and started reading the product description printed on the box. No filters! Easy cleanup! Robust flavor! 

“Have you ever used one before?” Azriel asked, peering over her shoulder. 

Elain shook her head. 

“Then shouldn’t we — ”

“Just trust me,” she interrupted, stiffening a little in surprise as her phone vibrated in her back pocket. She handed Azriel the box and took it out to see that Nuala had finally replied to her text from this morning — an all-caps demand to know if the agent had lost her mind and if she was aware that summer wouldn’t last forever. 

Nuala had been in charge of Elain’s wardrobes for all of her previous missions. She’d always been as grateful for her fellow agent’s ability to anticipate her every need as she was mystified by it. Which was how she knew that her vast new collection of satin negligees was no oversight. 

Don’t be such a baby. Besides, I’m sure Chazen would be happy to keep you warm (;

Elain’s eyes widened at Nal’s message, and she couldn’t resist glancing over her shoulder to make sure Azriel was still focused on coffee makers. He caught her eye and smiled as he balanced the French press on top of their mountain of homegoods. She managed a quick flash of her own teeth before turning back to her phone.

Excuse you we are both professionals. 

Nuala’s response came through on the way back to the house. Oh come on, E. It’s sooo obvious he’s got a thing for you!!

After deleting the entire thread, Elain peered over at Azriel, looking more relaxed than she’d seen him in days. That much, she could tell. Their first car ride had been all bouncing knees and white knuckles, but now Azriel was leaning back in his seat with one hand draped lazily on the wheel and the other hanging out the window. 

But these supposed feelings for her?

She thought about all of her past interactions with Azriel. It didn’t take long; there weren’t all that many, poking the first hole in Nuala’s claim. On the rare occasions they were both at their desks for the day, filling out incident reports and compiling relevant intel for future investigations, they’d often get up to refill their coffee mugs at the same time. 

And sometimes, instead of going straight back to their respective corners, they lingered, sipping their drinks and trying to find something to talk about. Most of their work was classified, even amongst fellow agents, and due to the nature of that work, neither of them were particularly inclined to be forthcoming about their personal lives. Their interactions, while pleasant, were thin. And there was nothing to indicate that those few minutes had been significant to Azriel — at least, nothing obvious. 

As if he’d felt the weight of her attentions, Azriel turned to look at her. Aside from a slight raise of his brows, his expression was neutral, his hazel eyes unreadable. It was silly to think anything about Azriel could be truly obvious. 

***

The kitchen, while a bit too white and sterile-looking for her taste, was a dream. Flooded with natural light, the open space was home to miles of glossy countertops and appliances so sleek, Elain could see her reflection in them. It filled her with a sort of giddiness as she opened the double-door fridge and started lining its empty compartments with bottles and jars. 

In that aspect, it wasn’t all that different from the little fridge in the apartment she kept in the city. Leased under the name Sarah Gardiner, the rickety studio had no personal affects, no air conditioning, and nothing in the fridge besides black olives and hot sauce. Nothing fresh, lest she get sent to the other side of the country, gathering intel while her broccoli and blackberries molded.  

But now, a rainbow of produce covered the island, and Elain fell into an easy rhythm of washing and chopping and lining it up in neat rows on the shelves. Leafy greens and berries went into containers lined with paper towels, carrots were peeled then submerged in jars of fresh water. 

While she worked, Azriel busied himself with organizing the spice rack, seemingly in alphabetical order. Elain couldn’t help but smile to herself as she glanced over to see him holding up two little bottles, squinting thoughtfully at the labels. By the time the sun set, the fridge looked like it belonged to a lifestyle vlogger, the pantry was stocked, the French press was washed and ready for tomorrow morning, and the cardboard boxes from yesterday had been broken down.

While Azriel took them outside to be picked up for recycling, Elain started setting out ingredients. First thing tomorrow morning, she’d bake and box up a batch of cookies to hand deliver to their immediate neighbors, offering baked goods and an unassuming smile in exchange for their trust. Putting faces to the names in their briefings. 

“The couple right across from us kept staring at me,” Azriel said as soon as the garage door was shut behind him. “They probably think we’re up to something already, just because of how fast we finished unpacking.”

“How fast you finished unpacking.” 

When Elain woke up, the sun was only just beginning its ascent, but Azriel had already unloaded and organized all of their surveillance equipment in the home office, and was in the process of arranging decorative candles on the sofa table. 

“I don’t normally go to sleep as early as we did last night.” 

Elain wasn’t sure she’d consider midnight early. Especially not for someone who also claimed to be a morning person. Although not even she made a habit of being up hours before the sun. But when she pointed this out, Azriel only shrugged, “I guess I’m both.” 

“I think that just makes you an insomniac,” she said, half-teasing.

“Maybe.” His lips quirked in a small, rueful smile. He nodded to the stick of plant butter still in her hand, “Do you want any help?” 

Elain hesitated. Until now, she had no intention of doing anything but showering and going to bed. She was exhausted, and while she would’ve liked to prep the dough and let it chill overnight, she — unlike Azriel, apparently — needed more than four hours of sleep to function.

He was still looking at her, waiting for an answer with a self-conscious hand curled around the back of his neck. “I’m not sure how much help I’ll actually be, but —” 

“You can chop up the chocolate.” 

Elain had been following the same vegan chocolate chip cookie recipe since she learned how to use the oven. By now, each step and measurement was engrained in her memory. She whisked the melted plant butter in with the sugars and added vanilla until it felt right. 

The rest of the kitchen darkened with the sky, but instead of turning on the overhead light, Azriel kept close, so both of them were haloed by the yellow glow of the stovelight. His elbow occasionally bumped into hers as he neatly worked the knife through each bar of dark chocolate at a diagonal, just as Elain had instructed. 

When the final cup of flour made the dough stiff and heavy, Azriel took over. Elain couldn’t stop noticing the muscles in his arm flexing as he folded in the chocolate chunks. 

Azriel was distracted as he helped Elain with the dishes, stopping more than once to stare with what could only be described as lustful eyes at the oven. It only got worse as the aroma of melted chocolate and warm sugar got stronger. 

He couldn’t remember the last chocolate chip cookie he’d had, the milk chocolate and butter in most others was enough to make his stomach revolt. 

Elain winced. “It’s really that bad?” 

“If I was going to lie to you, I would’ve gone with something sexier than gastrointestinal issues.” 

She nodded sagely, “Like astigmatism.” 

“Exactly.” 

When Elain bit into a cookie, it was still delicate with pools of chocolate on the surface. It tasted of comfort and nostalgia — like swatting at Feyre’s hand when she tried to stick her fingers in the dough and late nights with Nesta. Azriel ate his in nearly a single bite, with an indulgent hum that made Elain grateful for the low light. 

Especially now that he was looking down at her, gaze steady and contemplative. She waited for him to say something, but he was quiet as he lifted his hand. Elain felt his warmth against her skin, his knuckles nudging her cheek as his thumb smoothed over the corner of her mouth.  

“You’ve got some schmutz,” he murmured. 

His touch had been slow, but he withdrew his hand quickly, eyes darting around the kitchen before landing determinedly on something beyond her left shoulder. Elain might have mistaken it for embarrassment, if his eyes hadn’t narrowed with suspicion. She turned around, following his gaze through the living room window to see Lynn Forth stepping alone off the Sokolov’s driveway and into the quiet street, an empty casserole dish in hand. 

“It’s a bit weird to be picking up a casserole dish at this time, don’t you think?” Azriel mused. 

Maybe. Lynn might’ve gone over hours ago, then got to chatting and lost track of time. 

“We’re baking cookies at this time.” 

“We’re weird.” 

She grinned. “And vaguely off-putting.” 

*** 

Azriel and Elain had been on their way to the house right across from theirs to deliver a box of Elain’s cookies and make formal introductions when Lynn stopped them in their driveway. Nobody else had showed up on their doorstep since their arrival. They still hadn’t decided if that was strange, if it made the Forths suspicious or simply over-eager. 

As she presented Lynn with the box, Elain lied smoothly that the cookies had been for her and Brian to thank them for the welcome basket, as if there weren’t four identical containers waiting on their counter for the next delivery. 

Lynn said she’d just been heading over to invite them to a welcome party at her house on Saturday. As she chattered about the woes of party planning and all the cleaning she still had to do before the day, Lynn took a bite of one of the cookies. She joked that they ought to make some more to bring to the party — they’d be a hit! 

Elain’s eyes had flickered to Azriel to find that was already looking at her, amusement dancing in his eyes.

Now, standing in the threshold of the Forth’s home, Elain held up a container of only slightly-stale cookies in a tupperware. “Can I put these in the kitchen?” 

“Of course! Everything’s out on the island.” Lynn said. Then, lowering her voice into a mock-whisper, added, “But feel free to stash those in a cabinet.” 

As she moved past Azriel, she ran her hand down his arm, pausing to squeeze his elbow. A fortifying gesture before she left him alone with the neighbors. 

Elain didn’t hide the cookies, but she took her time poking around for a different hiding place. When Azriel circled back later with the recording devices, he’d give her one to leave somewhere in the kitchen. 

Aside from the abundance of hotdishes and slow-cookers that would get swept up by the masses at the end of the night, the kitchen was pristine; no grease splattered the stovetop, a crumbless floor. The usual nooks and crannies weren’t dusty enough for her liking.

At least, the ones she could see. There was a small gap between the top of the fridge and the cabinets above it, too high and dark for Elain to assess its cleanliness. With a glance over her shoulder to make sure she was still alone, she pushed up on her toes and reached into the crevice, her fingertips dragging over the cool metal as she fell back onto her heels. 

The pads of her fingers were filmed with dust. She brushed them off on her pants as she made her way into the living room, where Azriel was already sitting on the sofa, a proprietary hand on the cushion next to him. 

It was impossible to discern whether or not Azriel was playing up his discomfort for the sake of their plan. While Elain fielded questions about her supposed grad program, and why she chose the small liberal arts school nearby instead of staying in the city, he sat silently beside her. The strain in his eyes and grimacing mouth seemed very, very real. 

“And we’re hoping to start a family soon,” Elain continued, reaching for the hand Azriel had rested on her knee and weaving their fingers together. “This just felt like the right place to do it!” 

The chorus of awws and predictions about how lovely their children would be turned into advice and their own experiences — the school was wonderful, there were a plethora of after-school clubs, the cul-de-sac was perfect for street hockey. 

“Though ever since the Weavers and the Carvers grew up, there haven’t been many little ones running around.” The voice coming from across the room was wistful. 

Another lamented, “It’s been so quiet.” 

“I really thought the Galkins would have at least one baby by now,” someone else chimed in. 

She felt the arm around her back tense, the only indication Azriel was listening at all. His face was still masked with malaise. 

“Oh, I don’t think we’ve met them yet.” Elain said tilting her head thoughtfully, as if she were trying to put faces to the name. 

Lynn shook her head, “You wouldn’t have. Poor Lisa’s been sick all week. I stopped over a few days ago to invite them tonight, and ended up fixing a pot of my chicken soup instead.” 

That could explain the late-night visit. She wanted to know what Azriel thought about it, but when she turned to face her partner, Elain only made her brows wrinkle with concern. “You alright, baby?” 

He gestured vaguely to his head. “I think I feel a migraine coming on.” 

Her thumb smoothed over the delicate skin below his eye, where any real pain would’ve been concentrated. “Should we go?” 

Azriel shook his head gingerly, the movement nudging his face into the cradle of her hand. “You stay. I’ll be alright.” 

His message came halfway through a discussion about the grass-free landscaping project Demetra and her wife were planning for next year — the first and only stimulating conversation of the evening. 

Did we finish unpacking all the bathroom stuff? Can’t find the Tylenol anywhere.

Sensing someone peering over her shoulder, Elain loosed a chagrined sigh, “I better call him,” and stepped into the hallway. Azriel had been scouting the house from the outside the past few nights, but his description of where the bedroom was made less sense from the inside, so she opened the door to a half-bath and the basement before finding the right one. 

With one last glance over her shoulder, she slipped into the quiet Brian and Lynn’s bedroom. 

Even though she’d been expecting to see him, Elain startled at Azriel’s shadow-cloaked frame looming on Brian and Lynn’s patio, a backpack on his shoulder. She unlatched the door and he stepped in, wearing an almost boyish grin. “Hope you’re not having too much fun without me.” 

Unlike the kitchen, it was easy to decide where in the bedroom to plant the recording device. A stately, and more importantly, heavy-looking headboard dominated most of the far wall. Nobody would be moving it any time soon. 

Elain had to crawl under the bed to stick the bug to the back of the headboard. She wiggled back out, flushed from the effort and Azriel’s bemused expression as he helped her back to her feet. He waited patiently for her to tug her shirt back down and run her fingers through her mussed hair before handing her the second device. 

Just as she was slipping it into her pocket, she heard a voice from the hallway, “... so sorry. I keep telling him to put his damn drink down if he’s got something to say.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Lynn responded, much louder than the first voice. “Just wait, as soon as this little machine does it’s thing, it’ll be like it never happened.” 

Elain barely had time to usher Azriel into the closet and shut the door behind them before Lynn and the other woman, Trina from down the street, entered the room. In the near-dark, Elain could just make out the rows of clothes hanging around them, and a small shelf neatly displaying a collection of handbags and sunglasses. Elain could almost sigh with relief; unless somebody had also gotten a drink spilled down their shirt, the odds of Lynn opening this closet were slim.

The only way to hear all of what was being said would be to press her ear to the door, and shuffling around to do so was not a risk Elain was willing to take. Though the few things she could make out — Bissel, works wonders, eggshell, he says it’s because he’s Sicilian! — didn’t make her feel like she was missing anything important. Anxiety danced down Elain’s spine and Azriel was practically vibrating with tension; he was standing so close she could feel the disturbance in the air around him. 

Within seconds of Elain realizing that Azriel was not just tense, but trembling, the rapid, shallow breathing started. He clamped a hand over his mouth, knowing the importance of staying quiet. Cast perfectly in the sliver of light streaming in from the bedroom, Elain could see that his pupils were blown wide with panic.

She remembered the car, the bashful hand scrubbing the back of his neck. And I don’t really do great in tight spaces. 

In the moment, his confession had conjured imaginings of clammy hands and nervous lip-biting — not this. 

It took Elain a second to gather her wits; the anguish in his eyes was paralyzing. She couldn’t think, only stare back. And she was sure the expression swirling in her own eyes was far from reassuring. 

She knew that reaching for someone on the cusp of a panic attack was uncouth at best, and at worst, like trying to douse embers with accelerant. But she also knew there were still soft voices coming from the other side of the door, and that Azriel was showing no signs of improvement. She needed to do something. Deep pressure could relieve anxiety… or so she’d read once. 

Elain wrapped her arms around Azriel’s body and squeezed.

He went completely rigid, even his desperate breathing came to a halt for one stunned beat. And when he didn’t shove her away, Elain tightened her hold, putting all of her strength into it. His next breath didn’t seem so hard-won. She breathed with him, counting in her head as she went — one, two, three, four seconds in. Hold. Exhale slowly through the nose all the way to eight, tapping each second out with her index finger so Azriel could count with her. 

Gradually, his chest fell into the same rhythm as hers, rising and falling slowly, and the hand Azriel had been using to smother himself moved, curling tightly around Elain’s shoulder, pinning her body to him with his forearm. Her own arms trembled with the strain of holding him together. She listened to his heart slow down instead of the low hum of Lynn and Trina’s voices. She didn’t even notice it fading out, or the click of the bedroom door.

All of her attention was on the hand that had gripped her shoulder, now sliding up to hold the back of her neck, the pressure gentle and warm. Azriel’s thumb worried over her pulsepoint, his gaze heavy. Elain stared back, trying to decipher the storm swirling in his eyes — dread and shame, and something else. Something deep and private and tender. 

He blinked slowly, deliberately. And when his eyes opened again, it was gone, and he was focused only on the small gap in the door. 

“It’s clear,” he whispered, his hand moving down her back, settling at the dip in her spine and using its new position to guide her into the open air of the Forth’s bedroom. Azriel still moved like a man trapped, his steps small and his shoulders stiff as he made his way to the balcony. 

Elain watched his hands — scarred, and steady at last — carry him down the rope. When he hit the grass with a dull thud, she freed the grappling hook from the wrought iron and let it fall at his feet. The din of the party could be heard from outside, but Elain still kept her voice to a whisper, “I’ll see you back at the house.” 

Azriel nodded once before melting into the night.

[oh-meow-swirls]

how does the raft not capsize.

[liebgirl]

utterly cannot stand the type of post thats like "what are the female characters you like" and i KNOW it's not the fault of the people who make those posts i know they only do it because 95% of this site's blorbos are men. but i hate it anyway. like really the only way you can get fandom people to talk about women is to explicitly tell them to talk about women. and it always comes off so disingenuous because i KNOW most people reblogging those posts would never say those characters on a generic "what are your favorite characters" post. like it's all just so bleak :/

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

for whom good omens is being written

Hey maggots and the rest of the fandom, it's the Good Omens Mascot here. Today I read a post about this tweet:

The accompanying video genuinely made me cry. And I've been thinking about this for a long while, as far back as February, when I saw a lot of conflicting opinions on what people wanted from the third season. It really is true that no matter what you do, some people will be dissatisfied. But what matters is that Neil is writing this for Terry.

And I was reminded of some paragraphs from the Good Omens TV Companion, which I'd read in Amazon's sample excerpt of the book. I know this is a long post, but I really truly do think you all need to read these, I've done my best to select only the most important parts. Here you go:

'His Alzheimer's started progressing harder and faster than either of us had expected,' says Neil, referring to a period in which Terry recognized that despite everything he could no longer write. 'We had been friends for over thirty years, and during that time he had never asked me for anything. Then, out of the blue, I received an email from him with a special request. It read: “Listen, I know how busy you are. I know you don't have time to do this, but I want you to write the script for Good Omens. You are the only human being on this planet who has the passion, love and understanding for the old girl that I do. You have to do this for me so that I can see it." And I thought, “OK, if you put it like that then I'll do it."

'I had adapted my own work in the past, writing scripts for Death: The High Cost of Living and Sandman, but not a lot else was seen. I'd also written two episodes of Doctor Who, and so I felt like I knew what I was doing. Usually, having written something once I'd rather start something new, but having a very sick co-author saying I had to do this?' Neil spreads his hands as if the answer is clear to see. 'I had to step up to the plate.' A pause, then: 'All this took place in autumn 2014, around the time that the BBC radio adaptation of Good Omens was happening,' he continues, referring to the production scripted and co-directed by Dirk Maggs and starring Peter Serafinowicz and Mark Heap. ‘Terry had talked me into writing the TV adaptation, and I thought OK, I have a few years. Only I didn't have a few years,' he says. 'Terry was unconscious by December and dead by March.'

He pauses again. 'His passing took all of us by surprise,' Neil remembers. 'About a week later, I started writing, and it was very sad. The moments Terry felt closest to me were the moments I would get stuck during the writing process. In the old days, when we wrote the novel, I would send him what I'd done or phone him up. And he would say, "Aahh, the problem, Grasshopper, is in the way you phrase the question," and I would reply, "Just tell me what to do!" which somehow always started a conversation. 'In writing the script, there were times I'd really want to talk to Terry, and also places where I'd figure something out and do something really clever, and I would want to share it with him. So, instead, I would text Terry's former personal assistant, Rob Wilkins, now his representative on Earth. It was the nearest thing I had.'

(...) As Neil himself recognizes, this is an adaptation built upon the confidence that comes from three decades of writing for page and screen. But for all the wisdom of experience, he found that above all one factor guided him throughout the process. 'Terry isn't here, which leaves me as the guardian of the soul of the story,' he explains. 'It's funny because sometimes I found myself defending Terry's bits harder or more passionately than I would defend my own bits. Take Agnes Nutter,' he says, referring to what has become a key scene in the adaptation in which the seventeenth-century author of the book of prophecies foretelling the coming of the Antichrist is burned at the stake. ‘It was a huge, complicated and incredibly expensive shoot, with bonfires built and primed to explode as well as huge crowds in costume. It had to feel just like an English village in the 1640s, and of course everyone asked if there was a cheap way of doing it. 'One suggestion was that we could tell the story using old-fashioned woodcuts and have the narrator take us through what happened, but I just thought, “No”. Because I had brought aspects of the story like Crowley and the baby swap along to the mix, and Terry created Agnes Nutter. So, if I had cut out Agnes then I wouldn't be doing right by the person who gave me this job. Terry would've rolled over in his grave.'

And, finally, this paragraph:

"Once again, Neil cites the absence of his co-writer as his drive to ensure that Good Omens translated to the screen and remained true to the original vision. 'Terry's last request to me was to make this something he would be proud of. And so that has been my job.'"

I think that's so heartwrenchingly beautiful, and so I wanted you all to read this, too, just in case you (like me) don't have the Good Omens TV Companion. It adds another layer of depth and emotion to this already complex and amazing story that we all know and love.

Share this post, if you can, please, so that more people can read these excerpts :")

Tagging @neil-gaiman, @fuckyeahgoodomens and @orpiknight, even if you've definitely read these before :)

[adore-gregor]

my perception of grades totally changed since i started uni

[babycharmander]

(THE BOOK OF BILL SPOILERS!!)

Thinking about Bill’s appearance at the end of the book…

[ID: BIll when confronting the Axolotl. He is shown in white silhouette, hovering in space, hovering neutrally. Notably, he has a massive crack running through his body, splitting him into multiple pieces, some of which are coming apart. /end ID]

When confronting the Axolotl, Bill is broken. The Axolotl even notes this: "Shattered, broken, not yet dead."

(Which, side note, makes me think Bill might have been lying about having been "kicked out of Hell," if he didn't actually die in Stan's head.)

[ID: Three pictures of Bill in the Theraprism. The first one shows him holding his hand against the side of his head in a dazed expression, sitting in a chair in a white padded room between a wizard with a clock for a face and Saturn (taken directly from the painting Saturn Devouring His Son). The second is a camera recording of him wearing an orange jumpsuit and kneeling in a cell, surrounded by arts and crafts tools, holding a pair of scissors, and beaming his thoughts frantically into a book. The third shows a mugshot of him staring blankly into the camera, his own name written on coded text below him. In all three images, he has a glowing scar where the cracks were, and is in one piece. /end ID]

When he's shown in the Theraprism, we see a glowing, static-y scar where the cracks were. The scar crosses his entire body (and even crosses to the other side of his eye without affecting it!), but he's actually whole, keeping himself together.

But then...

[ID: Two pictures of Bill from the last pages of the book. In the first one he is facing forward and holding up one finger, his eye reddened, his entire form glitching, and his crack is notably worse than prior, cracking through his eye, multiple smaller pieces drifting away. In the second one he is staring blankly at the viewer, his arms hanging limply, his eye wide and blank, the crack worse than the previous image, with more pieces floating away. /end ID]

In the last few pages, we see the scar is gone and the cracks are back, and even more of him is breaking away, including parts of his eye. It's especially bad in the last image, with even more pieces of him breaking away.

Also noteworthy is that the static texture behind him seems to be the same as the blood sample the US government took from him in the 1940s. He's bleeding.

We know from context that these images are meant to be taken somewhat chronologically. After dying (or nearly dying), Bill seeks out the Axolotl, who sends him to the Theraprism. While there, he writes the journal that he's beaming to us. The staff at the Theraprism catch onto this, and allow him to write out the last few pages, meaning those last few pages are chronologically the last of Bill we see.

This means that, after the events of the show, Bill was shattered... and then, upon entering the Theraprism, started to heal, his body coming together and scars forming... but at some point afterward, he started breaking apart again.

I'd made a post previously about Bill's development, how he views himself as a monster after the Euclidian Disaster, and how he continues to act monstrous afterward (and winds up agonizingly lonely as a result). I didn't really touch on this in the post, but I feel like after inadvertently destroying his home dimension...

Bill never left the denial phase of grief.

I could be wrong on this, but I get the feeling that part of his reason for acting monstrous toward just about everybody is because he sees himself as a monster, because "this is just how I am" is easier to accept than "I really really screwed up."

Bringing this back to his shattering... It's interesting to me that after entering the Theraprism, his body is scarring, which means it is healing. But then, at the end, as he's signing off the book, he's shattered again, and looking even worse than he did when talking to the Axolotl. When talking this over with a friend, they pointed out something that struck me:

Bill does not want to heal.

Healing means having to actually think through what happened. It means having to confront his past, confront destroying his home dimension, confront the harm he caused to others, confront the fact that he did not have to be this way.

And he refuses to do that.

He refuses to heal.

[thinkinonsense]

call me if you're lonely⟡

old man!logan howlett x phone sex hotline worker!reader

cw: dirty talk, mutual masturbation

author's note: very short. just an idea that came to mind.

masterlist

this is so desperate, logan thought to himself as he dialed the number written on the fourth page in the second column. in pretty cursive words it read, call me if you're lonely!

your number had been living in the back of his head for almost a month now but he never got this close to calling it. in the column, it's written that you are a college student working on your masters degree and that you are very popular within your profession as a phone sex hotline worker. honestly, logan didn't care if you just started yesterday. he's been so stressed and overworked lately that he needs a release soon. logan waited as the phone rang after entering his card information. he's sat up on the old mattress under him, waiting patiently to see if anyone answers.

on the third ring, someone picks up.

"thanks for calling, hush hotline." you say, giving him the typical welcome speech before jumping straight in. "what would ya' like me to call you tonight, sugar?"

the sweet tone in your voice made logan's boxers feel tighter. resting his hand on top of his heavy cock, squeezing lightly and slowly stroking himself over the thin material.

"james is fine, honey." logan mutters.

"i like the way you call me, honey." you purr, getting relaxed in bed.

you had a long day; woke up late, missed class, messed up during important meeting at work and needed to blow off some steam. normally, the people you talk to over the phone don't have an effect on you, instead opting to fake it and offer phony pornstar like moans but something made you want to give it another shot.

"is that so?"

the stranger's voice was rough around the edges. deep, cold, straight to the point. it sent a shiver up your spine. usually, your customers were weak. willing to give into your every word and fully submit to you.

"mhm," you hum, lightly running your fingers up and down your thigh. "so, what's gotcha call in tonight, james? rough day at work or you just wanna hear me touch myself for you?"

"bit of both." he was already lost in this little world between the two of you.

“aw, can’t wait to make you feel good." you tell him, playing with the lace of your underwear. "wanna hear what i'm wearing right now?"

"mhm." he grunts.

"a white t-shirt and lacy blue underwear. wish you were here to take them off of me." you sigh, slipping your hand under the waistband.

"what would you do if i was there right now?"

"hmm, think i'd start by kissing you, making sure you get nice and hard for me then i would beg you to fuck my tight throat for hours. are you hard for me right now?"

"y-yes." logan sighs, trying to slow down a bit.

"that's sweet, james. got me blushing just thinkin' about it." you run your middle finger through your folds, gathering the slick and circling your button a couple times.

"just blushing?" he teases, catching you off guard.

"not 'just blushing'." you giggle softly. "you also got me r-really–ah, fuck! really soaked."

logan could hear the obscene squeak of you dipping your fingers inside of yourself. his chest moves up and down at the same rhythm as his strokes. your pretty little gasps made it difficult for him not to release right away.

"s-shit, honey." he groans, listening to the small wet slaps of you fucking yourself. "wanna taste that pussy of yours. i'm sure it's as sweet as that fuckin' mouth you got on you, honey."

never have you actually gotten wet from the men that call you. most of them let you do all the talking, only offering moans and whimpers. you couldn't quite place a finger on it but something about james was doing it for you.

"w-wish it was you inside of me instead of my fingers." you whine, tickling the spot that makes your vision blur.

"bet you would look so pretty wrapped around my cock, honey."

"i would look even prettier with you dripping out of me." faintly, you can hear him shuffling around, trying to stifle his groans. "don't hide yourself, baby. wanna hear you."

like a rubber band, something snapped inside of logan. unable to control his noises anymore, he's fucking his fist faster than before, chasing after every little moan you let out.

you move to rubbing your button switching occasionally, picturing the man that you believe james to be. a little older and rugged. maybe even someone your father would be friends with. someone you would definitely have a secret crush on.

logan's hips thrusted with need. the louder you got, the faster his orgasm was approaching. he had to hold off, he thought to himself. hear you cum first. by the broken whines and little hiccups you let out, he could tell you were only moments away from your release.

"f-fuck, i'm so close." you squeal, legs shaking a little as you near your high.

"me too, honey."

within seconds, your head is thrown back against the silky pillow case. the sheets under you were drenched but you were too full of bliss to care. logan finally allowed himself to let go as well, pearly white spurts coating his lower stomach and even some landing on his tank top. it's quiet for a minute or so before your little giggles can be heard on the other end of the line.

"something funny?" he asks, confused.

"no, no, it's just..." you giggle again with a sigh. "ever since i started this job, no one's ever made me orgasm. at least not like that."

"hm.." logan couldn't fight off the smile creeping on his face. "might need to call more often then."

"i'll be looking forward to it."

[cosmic-dust-poltergeist]

Pt3 of the Danny is the 99th attempted clone Tim made of Kon. Kon learns about Danny.

Relevant info: Kon was dead closer to a year and a half in this au, and this happens a few months after his revival.

[Pt2: here] [Pt4: here]

So Tim has admittedly been putting off meeting up with the Titans. Everyone has settled back into the new normal. Too much has happened for it to look anything like before, but the other 3 Titans have been hanging out semi-regularly, and Tim turns down their invites 3 of 4 times. He knows it's starting to hurt their feelings, and he hates that.

But... he's scared to admit he's a father now. A father to a clone of one of them. He's not sure how to bring it up. Cassie never asked if he was successful, probably just assumed he failed because there isn't a third Superboy flying around. Jokes on her. Danny isn't going to be a Superboy. He's not allowed to even think about being a hero or vigilante until he's 14 at the earliest, and Tim is going to help him find his own name if he chooses that path. He won't be a Robin or Superboy. He won't live in the shadow of those legacies if Tim can help it.

None of that is relevant for the here and now, though. Tim got Jason to babysit Danny and finally agreed to a hang out with the Titans. He asked Danny for his opinion first before making his decision and got the go ahead. So, Tim is finally going to come clean.

Tim barely makes it into the tower when he's tackled by his friends.

"Tim! You're here!" Bart cheers.

"Yeah, it's good to see you guys too. Sorry I haven't been very present." Tim fidgets. "I've been busy... I also haven't been honest..."

"Tim?" Cassie sounds concerned. And Tim just can't. He extracts himself from the puppy pile. He can't make himself give eye contact. He's sure his guilt and shame are written all over his body language.

"Tim, you can tell us anything." Kon sounds super genuine. Tim takes a deep grounding breath.

"Okay, let's do this like a bandaid." Tim finally looks at them, focusing mostly on Kon. "I have a son. He's technically Kon's, too."

He gets the dubious pleasure of watching his three idiots look at his abdomen, as if he gave birth.

"Why-? Kon, we never fucked!? What the fuck guys??" He sputters, waving his hands in front of him.

"Then how-" Cassie realizes. "Oh!"

"Oh?? What do you mean??" Bart is looking between them and vibrating in confusion. Kon is just looking like a confused and concerned puppy.

"Okay, so, I may have had a breakdown with everyone dying or going missing." Tim grimaces. "And while I was fully aware that even if I succeeded, it wouldn't be Kon, I still tried to clone him. And, um, I did manage to succeed in the end."

"Fuck, Tim.." Kon starts.

"Look, I was in a really fucking dark place and needed even just a piece of good I lost." Tim hugs himself, self loathing burning him from the inside out. "Everyone was turning their back on me, I just needed something, anything, to keep going."

"Fuck, I should have helped..." Cassie bites her lip, chewing on her guilty conscious.

"It's fine. No one was listening. Don't beat yourself up over it. You were in a bad spot, too." Tim gives a humorless laugh. "Danny was my 99th attempt. And my last attempt, if I'm honest. I could feel myself breaking more with each failure. On a fucking whim, I decided to make the 99th attempt a baby instead of trying for a teenager, and it worked. I fucked up a bit, I forgot to adjust the knowledge download to that of a 1 year old, but he was alive. He's the best thing to ever happen to me. I was scared to tell you. I'm sorry-"

"Tim.." Kon cuts him off, and Tim snaps his mouth shut. "I.. I'm honestly not sure how to feel about you cloning me, but I'd like to meet him. What's his name?"

Tim rapidly blinks back tears. "Aedan Drake, he prefers being called Danny. I.. I didn't add Kent because I don't trust Clark with him or give him an El name, I wanted him to understand kryptonian language and culture first. I... I also wanted Danny to be old enough to make the decision over his name himself. I don't want him to be treated like you were. The house of El were so awful to you."

"I understand, Tim." Kon steps towards Tim, "Can.. Can I hug you?"

Tim nods and is swept into a tight hug. He feels something give emotionally, and he sobs into his shoulder. "I fucking love him so much."

"Tell me about him." Kon says softly. He can feel Bart and Cassie hoving, unsure what to do, but unwilling to leave.

"He's physically around 3 now. He loves ghosts and space and named the wolf plushy I bought him on his first day alive Wulf." There's some chuckles over that. "He's sassy and petty, but insanely sweet and tries to help out with any and all tasks. I see so much of both of us in him. Nature vs Nurture is a messy bitch. You remember what I said my start as Robin was like?"

"How you had to babysit a grown ass man and force him into better habits?" Cassie snarks.

"Karma's a funny bitch. Danny started doing the same shit to me as soon as he figured out how to walk." Tim giggles. "Anytime we weren't in danger, he'd force me to take care of injuries and to eat and sleep. And I'd do it because what kind of monster denies a baby trying to be helpful... plus he gets really stressed and depressed if he can't help."

Tim grips the back of Kon's shirt. "I don't understand how he developed my people pleaser tendencies so early on. We were stuck on LoA bases when he first started doing everything in his power to help me. I was purposely being a little shit to our "hosts" at the time. So it wasn't a surprise that he developed a Robin's need to troll, but he only saw me be nice to him."

"The LoA??" Kon asks in alarm.

"It was a rough year..." Tim scowls. "And if I see Ra's again, I'm gutting him. B's rules be damned."

"What happened?" Cassie asks, suddenly a lot closer.

"He's a creep, a pedo, and a child abuser." Kon rubs Tim's suddenly very stiff back and shoulders. "I could handle him being creepy towards me. While gross and awful to have a disgusting 300 or something year old man trying to wife me-"

"Excuse me???"

"He WHAT?"

"-I'm more pissed I couldn't protect Danny. I don't know what that piece of shit did when I couldn't take Danny with me, but Danny is linked to the pit now. He luckily doesn't have pit rage like Jason, but he can calm Jason's pit and apparently glows according to Duke." Tim sobs. "I should have killed the man when I had a chance. I don't know what he did to Danny!"

"It's not your fault, Tim." Kon hugs Tim tightly, it's almost painful. "You were in a tough spot and doing your best to keep you both alive."

"Just focus on healing and moving on." Bart says while running a hand through Tim's hair. Cassie rubs both Tim and Kon's backs as Tim gets himself under control.

"Can.. can I meet him?" Kon whispers.

"I'd love for you to meet him." Tim sniffles. "He was nervous you'd hate him for existing. I apparently passed on my stupid anxiety. I couldn't quite get him to believe me when I told him he wouldn't be who you'd be mad at if you got mad. He wants to meet you, but I accidentally made the most jaded baby in the world."

"A Super raised by a Bat is going to be terrifying." Bart giggles. "We'll have to make sure he doesn't become a supervillain."

"Meh. He's too cute. If he goes evil, all he has to do is pout and he'll instantly win." Tim jokes, wiggling out of the hug. "Want to see pictures?"

There's a very strong positive response. The next 3 hours finds Tim showing off pictures and explaining the stories behind them, his team melting at how cute his son is. Tim feels the lightest he's felt in a while. He does have to promise Bart and Cassie to bring Danny over once Kon and Danny meet one on one first.

What Tim doesn't know is Kon is absolutely obsessed with and slightly horny over this parental side of Tim. He's fully daydreaming of the 3 of them living together and being disgustingly domestic the whole time Tim is showing off Danny. Cassie can tell what Kon is thinking about and is amused.

Once Tim leaves, the Titans go to the training room and fuck up some bots because of the rage they feel on Tim and Danny's behalf. They all agree to be as petty as possible to any LoA members they come across and to murder Ra's the moment there's an opportunity to do so without the JL knowing. Tim isn't the only unhinged one on this team. That's why they work so well together.

[senascoop]

SENA’S FAVOURITES ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 TAG GAME

Ꮺ by @iovestuck and I might've added-edited some questions to my liking. all of these answers are genuine and not with the bias of some of them being my moots. also, extremely sorry if I didn't add you on here. most of them are nsfw so... minors please do not interact. (💌)

001. WHAT ARE YOUR FAVOURITE FANFICS?

HOW I MET YOUR MOTHER — @i2sunric

i already yapped a lot when I first read her fic but this was personally really really cute to read and I loved heeseung’s and the reader’s bickering a lot.

THE PERFECT COPY — @florestalio

if this fanfic was a person I'd date them lol. this was something new and easily secured a seat in my favs.

STILL INTO YOU — @i2sunric

another one of casey’s work that I love a lot.

COULD I BE MORE OBVIOUS? — @rkvriki

this was written like a year ago and is still really good. especially the way it actually captured the “rich ceo husband” vibes.

BUT DADDY I LOVE HIM — @heechwe

what were you thinking when you wrote that lexi? i couldn't find a single bad thing about the fic when i first read it and ngl it still remains as one of my fav.

FIXED COMFORT — @paarksunghoon

coming back to read this after a bad day and this never fails to bring a smile on my face even if I've already re-read this a lot of times.

002. FANFICS YOU'VE READ RECENTLY?

haven't read much lately but this has to be my list — heehoon jerking off together while thinking of the reader. part one, part two not sure if there's more parts, sharing = caring , and then this mind-blowing fic by casey, heavenly , i personally found this one cute, and then I've read this smtg about toxic situationship heeseung, then this one from mochiwonz which made me laugh, this from yuvany, reader is mean in this one but it's good, little lamb ... I have more but I can't exactly add all of them here—so if you're looking for fic recs, you should check @senascoooop

003. WHAT FANFICS DO YOU THINK SHOULD GET MORE RECOGNITION?

PUPPY ANTICS — @florestalio

I always re-read this because well... no reason-just the descriptions and the scene (though I hate angel for cutting it short...)

YOU’RE LOSING ME — @i2sunric

y'all are missing out on a lot of good stuff if you haven't read this angsty angst fic.

CORPSE BRIDE — @yuvany

start to end-just perfection.

BEWITCHED — @p4ranormaluv

to describe this fic in one word would be #wtfdidijustread? In a good way ofc. this deserves way more notes than it has right now.

TIL DEATH DO US PART — sena

TIED UP IN YOU — sena

self promo lol but I actually like these two of my works and they might as well be my best ones till now.

HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN 10 DAYS — @flwrstqr

a really fun fic to read, especially with the way both the reader and heeseung’s goal was definitely not to fall in love... but the two anyways did so.

VENOM — @gyuuberryy

the tension in this one and half way transformation of jay was just wowwww.

HORROR — @starryjake

the smut was rather really... cute alongside the ending...

666 — @simpjaes

a big fan of dark fics. and this was absolutely flawless!!

Not really a fanfic but rather sfw niki audio by @vanesycho part one, part two, part three, part four. I usually listen to these when I'm feeling down or can't fall asleep.

004. FAVOURITE AUTHORS?

all of my moots ofc lol but other than that ,

@i2sunric — all of her fics are hits and i personally really really really love them.

@florestalio — first found out about her through the fic “human or not” and I liked it from the go. and nevertheless-even if it's been a little time, I think we match the freak nonetheless.

@yuvany — she was in my favs the second i read corpse bride. then there's miss ugly duckling and her recent jay fic... absolutely amazing.

@p4ranormaluv — do I even need to have a reason for her to be here? she's really talented with the way she writes. Though I hope she's enjoying her break <3

@heechwe — every time you think someone can't get more sweet... lexi replies. even her fics are chefs kiss.

@gyuuberryy — she's my hype girl (ofc I'll add her on here and also bcz her fics are a big mwahh)

@mochiwonz — we aren't moots or anything but her works (smaus) randomly came in my for you page and i actually enjoyed a lot of them (so I'm adding her here too)

@paarksunghoon — every time a hard thought of hers comes into my for you-i know my evening's not gonna be so boring. y’all should read her fixed comfort and you plus me fic. 100% recommended.

@starryjake — another author who's also really good at making hard thoughts and fics :)

005. WHICH AUTHOR/READER DO YOU ADMIRE/ADORE THE MOST AND WHY?

all of my readers and moots ^^

but aside from them, i admire casey (i2sunric) & jazmine (p4ranormaluv) a lot and sort of started to write after reading their works <3

now I adore a lot of authors and readers but angel (florestalio) and ady (gyuuberry) have a special place in my heart. and I've actually gotten used to seeing some frequent readers which I absolutely notice and adore but the loud ones so far would be @zyvlxqht @flowerwinds (thank you so much for showing nothing other than love to me and my works) 🫶🏻💗

NOTE FROM SENA , i don't really read a lot which might explain why I don't have some more popular fics or authors in the recs. I'm also very sorry if I've forgotten someone (totally not intentional) this was really fun to make...thank you rain (iovestuck) you're another sweetie I found on blr :)

ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 tagging anyone who wants to join

[wolviensabes]

Logan and pregnancy.

RQ: 'Logan taking care of his pregnant girlfriend perchance 🤔' -@wheezyth3dem0n

Warnings: F!reader, pregnancy themes, written in HC style.

A/N: I just wrote pregnancy hcs on my main blog so let's keep the theme going. Ignore grammar mistakes, not edited.

Logan knows you're pregnant instantly when the scent of your hormones change.

He looks to you and he isn't sure how to feel just yet. He hadn't planned on getting you pregnant, it wasn't something that he ever thought about. But it was his reality now, and he wasn't too sure on how to feel.

He was just a little wary jumping into something so permeant, considering your lifestyles. The dangers that are involved, all he thought about was how the baby would be in constant danger. Especially knowing it would most likely be mutant.

You were a little hurt, knowing he was a bit standoffish since the discovery, but after some thinking he had come around and explained what he was thinking about, and how he was just worried about its upbringing. It was reassuring that he comforted you in this sense, even if it initially hurt when he backed off.

"M'sorry, this is all...new to me. I never thought I'd be a dad...of all people." Logan grumbled to you, rubbing your back to try to reassure you that he was happy, it was just...a lot for him to take in.

When you begin to show, Logan's presence starts to become more and more. His missions are spread out a bit more, and he spends more time around you. At first, your pregnancy is mostly independent, besides him being around in the evening. You figure it's because he's still processing that you are carrying his kin, but as he starts to come around more often, you're surprised but decide not to mention it.

Logan starts to observe you closer, his hands often find your belly and rub it. He can hear the heartbeat, and he leans closer so he can rest by your belly. Most nights are like this when he's not holding you. He pays close attention to your habits, as well as schedule, memorizing everything you do day to day. When you get a little bigger, he notices daily tasks are a bit more difficult for you.

"Let me help," Logan insisted gruffly, watching you try to pick up clothes for laundry. He worded it more like a demand than offer, he didn't like how you were bending over so often.

"I got it, Logan, really," your stubbornness insisted you could handle it, but he had his doubts. He could see your clear struggle, he could sense you were tired but you were so stubborn.

"Enough." he demanded and gently pulled you away from the laundry, his arms strong around you and easily maneuvering you around. He sat you down and pointed at you. "Stay." he ordered.

Logan brings you food, he doesn't cook a lot but he still tries. He gets help from Jean or Storm. But he's always the one to bring it to you. He displays a lot of instinctual habits by now, especially since you're showing more now. Something inside him just...triggers when he sees your swollen belly. When you walk around the mansion for some exercise, he is right there with you, his eyes scanning the halls and every single person around you.

He growls at people who come close, he is so insanely protective over you now. It shocks you the first time he about lunges at Scott when he asked you how far along you were. "Logan!" you watched your feral boyfriend literally snarling at Scott.

"Get your eye off her, slim." he hissed, his voice was venomous and mean. Scott was just as surprised, even for Logan he was acting much more aggressive. You pulled Logan along, muttering an apology to Scott along the way.

"Logan what the hell! He was just asking how far I was," you muttered, your bristled boyfriend still had an irritated expression. His nostrils flared as he looked down at you. "Easy...it's fine. He's gone, just relax..." you rubbed your hands over his chest, soothing him from his protective mode.

He piles you into the shared room you have, he gets you all settled on the bed and cozy, there are so many blankets and pillows there and they act as excellent support for your large belly. He makes sure you're as comfy as possible, he fusses a lot by grumbling and making sure you have enough blankets. "Keep the baby warm." he grunts at you, covering you with a blanket as if your baby will get cold.

Logan likes to lay close to your belly, he can hear the baby and smell the change you emit because of all the hormones. He hears the baby moving around too, he enjoys listening to his little one in there.

You end up bound to the bed for a while, your ankles were so swollen and you were weak as the pregnancy progressed. You relied on him and he was more than happy to comply. He rubs your swollen ankles and feet, leaning forward and letting his facial hair tickle your belly.

When you feel your hormones flare, you get emotional and worried about labor and birth, all the normal worries for a mother to be. Logan sits with you and lets you vent your worries, but he is also the voice of reason during your emotional episodes. He always reassured you, telling you it would be alright, he was here with you, and he'd never let anything happen to you.

When your little one does arrive, it will be the most protected baby on the planet, not only the baby, but you too. Like hell anyone will get the chance to harm you with Logan by your side.

Thanks for reading.

Dividers by @/strangergraphics