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totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus · 21 hours ago

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Fic: Something to Sink Your Teeth Into 19/?

Can I offer everyone some distraction and escape tonight? If you have sent a prompt to my inbox, I will get on those tonight and tomorrow. Just wanted to get a longer offering up as well. It's going to get worse before it ever gets better. Do what you have to do to stay safe, and try to do good where you can. I pray for better days ahead.

Pairing: Buck/Tommy

Vampire/Witch!AU

Read on AO3

From the moment Tommy’s coven master stepped into the house, Evan could tell he was powerful.

Not as powerful as Tommy. Not as old as Tommy, either…but definitely not a new vampire. Something about the way he carried himself gave Evan the impression that he was used to being listened to. Obeyed. His dark eyes zeroed in on Evan as he made his way to Tommy’s living room, and even with no fangs visible, Evan absolutely received the message that this man would neither hesitate to kill him, nor feel an ounce of guilt over it. It should have been terrifying. And make no mistake, Evan was wary.

But he wasn’t afraid.

His magic hummed in the back of his mind, strong and ready to use to defend himself. Even if he had not recovered from the effects of using the teleport spell, though…Tommy wouldn’t let anything happen to him.

The knowledge settled in his mind, startling in its surety. Its absoluteness. Tommy wouldn’t let any harm come to him. Evan knew that.

He did not know how he knew that, or why it felt like such an immutable, inarguable fact. It was an insane thought to have. Sure, Tommy had put himself between Evan and danger several times already, but what possible reason could Evan have for thinking that he’d continue to do so? Against his own coven master, no less? He didn’t have one…and yet he was so completely confident in the belief that he met the vampire’s eyes squarely, his magic swirling contentedly through his body.

He listened as Tommy argued back and forth with his coven master, tensing as Alonzo revealed that the vampires were already spreading rumors about what had happened in Greenway’s office. He’d known in the back of his mind that the men who’d attacked them weren’t likely to just ride off into the sunset, never to be heard from again…but the high coven had seemed the larger threat.

He couldn’t even really blame this Alonzo person for asking Tommy to get rid of him, to turn him over to the high coven and just cut his losses. Hadn’t Evan been begging Tommy to do just that before Alonzo appeared? It was the smart play—the only play that could possibly keep Tommy and his coven out of this.

God, he wanted to give Tommy a way out of this.

“I’ve been on my own before. I can manage. Just do what I said before…let me leave and have your coven master lodge a complaint with the high coven. Tell them I spelled you. I don’t—I don’t know what to do about the vampires, but at least that’ll get my people off of your coven.”

“Well. I wasn’t expecting you to be the voice of reason. Listen to him, Thomas. We don’t have a lot of time to go with that story—not even a powerful witch could control you for very long.”

Evan ignored Alonzo, staring at Tommy as he seemed to consider their words. He wasn’t sure how this whole mess was going to end. He hoped Grant and her coven could find what they needed to in time to avoid a coven war…but Evan knew better than most the kinds of things that powerful covens could get away with when they wanted to. He wasn’t terribly confident. He just knew he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t do everything in his power to give them the chance.

He thought Tommy felt the same way. Like everything else about the vampire, it seemed a ridiculous thought to have. Three days ago, would have laughed out loud at the idea that a vampire could care about innocent people dying in a coven war. But he’d seen firsthand how much Tommy cared about his coven. Despite the horrible way they’d come into each other’s lives, Tommy had been nothing but honest with him. Honorable. Kind.

Protective.

He wasn’t an idiot. And he wasn’t naïve. Tommy had killed people. More people than Evan could probably conceive of, given how old he was. But Evan didn’t think the vampire was faking the disgust he seemed to feel for the wanton violence and cruelty of the party he’d rescued Evan from. He didn’t think Tommy was faking his desire to get to the bottom of whatever was going on in the city. Something inside Evan told him that Tommy wanted to stop what was coming just as much as Evan did.

The difference was, if Evan died in this storm they’d somehow entered into, the collateral damage would be minimal.

Sally had cut ties with him.

His parents had never cared for him to begin with.

Maddie probably thought he was already dead…or had abandoned her.

There was no one left to care if he died, but Tommy had a whole coven who would mourn him. Hell, Evan had interacted with them for less than two hours, but he could tell how close Tommy was with the two vampires who had come to the loft. There was no reason for Tommy to go down this road with him when there were so many people who would be hurt if Tommy got himself killed. He knew Tommy wouldn’t stand for just turning Evan over to the high coven, but letting him go and then taking a story about Evan casting a compulsion over Tommy to them was the absolute best move that Tommy could make. For his coven. For himself.

“I can’t do that.” The vampire’s voice was clear. Steady. Not a hint of doubt or hesitation in the words. Tommy’s eyes bored relentlessly into his, his back ramrod straight as he refused, refused the out Evan was offering him. “Evan, whoever is orchestrating all this, I’m not leaving you to face them down by yourself.”

And…what? Evan startled, barely managing to keep his mouth from falling open in shock. Wait—wait, no, he couldn’t have heard that correctly. That made no sense. That was—

“Thomas, are you insane? You can’t be serious!” Tommy’s coven master sounded as shocked as Evan felt, the cool, calm demeanor he’d been affecting since he entered the bungalow cracking.

He started to pace back and forth, his movements quick and agitated, and Evan tucked one hand behind his back, clenching his fist and focusing on his magic the way Sally had taught him, drawing it tightly inwards, ready to spring forth at his command. No witch was powerful enough to cast without the structure of a spell…but thanks to Sally’s lessons, Evan could cast faster than most.

Tommy stepped deliberately between them, facing his coven master, and Evan felt a flush of warmth he couldn’t even try to deny. Alonzo’s next words, though, were like a bucket of ice water being poured straight down Evan’s spine.

“If you do this, then I’ll have no choice but to disavow you. Sever our alliance.”

He gasped. He knew he gasped, the soft, breathy sound of it punching out of him entirely without his permission. No. No, Alonzo couldn’t be suggesting what it sounded like he was suggesting. And even if he was, there was no way that Tommy would—

“Exactly,” Tommy said. His voice was still so steady, so sure. As though he was talking about something as minor as changing the paint color in his living room or what he might make for dinner and not…not…

Tommy and his coven master continued speaking, but Evan couldn’t make out the words over the buzzing in his ears. He felt frozen, stopped, his mind swarming with memories and feelings that he hadn’t been able to bring himself to examine in years. The blood pounded in his head, his focus on his magic splintering. No. No, Tommy couldn’t—he wouldn’t…

“Thomas. You’ll be convenless.”

“I’ve been covenless before.”

Covenless. There were a thousand other meanings for that word, and Evan had lived every one for the last five years.

To be covenless was to be nothing. Less than nothing. When Evan had been banished from his coven, he’d lost everything. His home, his family, his familiar. His future. His identity. Everything that made him who he was had been stripped from him, and he’d been left to rebuild himself from fucking scratch…only he’d never be able to. Not really.

To be covenless was to be alone. Completely alone. Unwelcome in every corner of the world you’d thought would be yours forever, unwanted and uncared for. Evan had lost his coven bonds and he’d become a ghost. He’d lost everything when he lost his coven. How could Tommy just give it up?

Why…why would he do something like that for him?

Evan watched in frozen, horrified silence as Tommy did it. Severed himself from his coven. Turned his back on his home, his family, the people he cared for…for Evan. He listened to the oddly formal words—completely devoid of the power that he’d felt when the Pennsylvania high coven handed down his sentence, and yet somehow just as heavy. Just as important. Some part of him tried to remind himself that Tommy had said vampire covens didn’t function the way witch covens did. Vampire covens were alliances, not bonds that were formed in blood and magic…but it didn’t matter. Tommy was giving up his coven. For him.

To protect him. He’d said it. He’d said he wasn’t going to leave Evan to face this storm alone.

It was impossible. It was irrational. It made absolutely no sense. He was watching it with his own eyes, and he didn’t understand. He’d given himself up for Maddie. He’d sacrificed everything he ever was or ever would be to keep her safe, to make sure that she didn’t suffer for what she had to do to set herself free from Doug. He hadn’t set out to lose his coven because of it, he’d just known it was a likely outcome. Had Tommy known he was going to do this when his coven master walked through the door? Had he looked at the situation the way Evan had all those years ago, his sister’s heartwrenching sobs ringing in his ears as they stood over Doug’s still body, and made the same choice Evan had in that moment? How? How?

It had been an easy sacrifice for him to make for Maddie. Losing his coven had been the hardest thing he’d ever experienced or ever would experience, but it had been worth it to save his sister. Keep her safe. Protect her.

But…but he loved Maddie. Loved her more than anything else in the world, loved her more than he loved himself.

What motivation did Tommy have to give up his coven for Evan?

Tommy was still for a long moment after his coven master–fuck, his ex coven master, what had he done?—left the bungalow. Evan listened to the sound of the vampire's car start up, still feeling like he'd been encased in a block of ice. Tommy's shoulders slumped slightly as the sound of the car faded down the driveway, growing more and more distant, and he cracked his neck a couple times before turning to look at Evan.

Evan didn't know what his face looked like, but Tommy's immediately softened. It was almost unbearable to watch…Tommy had just made himself covenless, how could he have room to feel sympathy for Evan?

“Evan, remember. Coven bonds aren’t like what you’re used to for us. This isn’t…it doesn’t hurt me,” he said, and his voice was so, so gentle.

As if Evan was the one who needed to be handled carefully, as though Evan was the one hurting. Because he was hurting. Evan knew that without a doubt, knew it the same way he’d known that Tommy wouldn’t let his coven master hurt him—it was a quiet certainty, a solid as stone beneath his feet. He felt suddenly sick, too hot and too cold at the same time. His heart pounded in his chest, his magic thrumming through him insistently, and he shook his head.

“Why…” He broke off, suddenly unable to meet Tommy’s eyes, and swallowed hard. “Why did you do that?” he managed to choke out, his voice sounding alien to his own ears.

Tommy tilted his head slightly, a stepped toward him, closing the distance between them until he was right in front of him. “I’m not letting you do this alone,” he said, as though that were an actual reason to leave his coven, to voluntarily give it up.

Evan shook his head again, his head still spinning. “That doesn’t make sense!” he burst out. “Tommy, you’re gonna get yourself killed!”

Infuriatingly, Tommy’s lips twitched into a smile, and he reached up to lay his hand on Evan’s shoulder. There was no heat from the touch, of course, and yet Evan swore he could feel the shape of Tommy’s hand on him like a brand. His magic sparked through him, swirling in his chest like champagne bubbles. “I’ve heard that before, Evan. Hasn’t happened, yet,” he said.

“It’s not worth it,” Evan said.

Losing your coven isn’t worth it, Evan meant.

I’m not worth it, Evan meant.

Tommy’s hand loosened briefly, his fingers twitching like he wanted to move them. For a few heartbeats, Evan had the bizarre sense that Tommy was restraining himself from reaching up, brushing the skin of Evan’s throat, skating his fingers higher and higher to touch Evan’s face. Even more bizarre was the pulse of disappointment when Tommy merely patted his shoulder and stepped back, a strange expression twisting his features.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” the vampire said. “Now…are you ready to start this snipe hunt?”

“How worried do we have to be about one of those locator spells?” Tommy asked as he guided the SUV onto the highway, heading for the address that his friend Chimney had provided.

Evan blinked, startled out of thoughts that would not stop racing in circles no matter how hard he tried. He was glad for the new topic to focus on, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the window. “Depends. If your, uh, if Alonzo lets the high coven have some of your stuff when he talks to them, it could be a problem. If it’s something you’re really attached to.” He opened his eyes and shot Tommy a sidelong glance. “Do you have a lot of things at your coven house?” he asked quietly.

Tommy chuckled, not taking his eyes off the road. It was hard to get a read on his expression, but he didn’t seem especially upset. “Some. Not as much as you might think someone could collect over eight hundred years. I’ve never really cared about things. Most of what I really give a shit about, I keep at the bungalow. But I can text Sal and Lucy and tell them to hide a few other things at the coven house.”

Evan nodded to himself. “We should have a day or two before it even becomes an issue—and they might not think it’s worth it. It’d be hard to hold a locator spell on a vampire. Most of our really complicated magic doesn’t work so great on you.”

Tommy made a curious hum. “Why’s that?”

Evan shrugged. “No one really knows. Probably for the same reason that you can’t turn witches.” He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers. “I can cast a charm that’ll let me know if someone’s trying to spell you,” he offered after a moment. “And disrupt it.”

“Will it be a drain on you? I’d rather you save your strength for when we run into trouble.”

“A disruption? Yeah, that’d be hard for me to keep up for very long…but the alert charm is simple. Sa—someone taught it to me when I was a kid, to help me channel my intentions in a spell. Those kinds of things, losing my coven bond doesn’t really, uh, doesn’t really affect me that much,” he finished quietly. “But it’s still a spell. I, I, I get it if you don’t want me casting anything on you.”

Tommy was silent for a long moment, before he said quietly, “I trust you, Evan. Do I need to pull over?”

“Wait, not? You want me to cast it now?” Evan blinked, the calm certainty in Tommy’s voice when he said he trusted him catching him off-guard. Tommy shrugged one shoulder.

“Might as well. I don’t want to risk getting distracted later—and any advantage we can get is worth taking.”

“Um, okay. Okay, yeah, that makes sense. Uh, no, it—you won’t feel anything. Maybe like, a tingle? But it won’t hurt or anything. I can do it while you’re driving.” He pressed his lips together, considering. “Can I have your hand?”

Tommy startled a little at that, shooting him a quick, bemused look. “Sure?” he said, stretching one hand out toward Evan.

Evan took it, cradling it in his palms and resting two fingers on where Tommy’s pulsepoint should be in his wrist. It was odd not to feel the beat of life underneath his fingers, to trace skin that was oddly cool, blue veins standing out more starkly than he was used to. He leaned over Tommy’s hand and started chanting, his magic all but leaping to his fingertips as he murmured the familiar spell. Tommy kept his eyes on the road, but Evan could sense him shooting quick little looks his way, even as he held his hand trustingly still.

It was strangely intimate. The thought skipped through Evan’s head and was gone as he felt the spell building, his hands beginning to glow with the white light of a witch’s power. He breathed out the last words of the spell and pressed the magic gently into the skin of Tommy’s wrist, a sigil glowing briefly before fading to near invisibility. Tommy shivered as the sigil sunk in, his fingers flexing, but he held still until the light of Evan’s magic faded. Moving slowly—almost reluctantly?—he slipped his hand from Evan’s grasp and looked at the inside of his wrist, his eyebrow twitching upwards minutely.

“That’s it?” he asked.

“That’s it,” Evan confirmed, settling back in his seat and going back to staring out the window. “If anyone tries to cast on you, I’ll know.”

“Thank you, Evan,” Tommy said.

Evan nodded silently, watching the LA scenery fly past the window as Tommy sped towards Greenway’s house. He felt like his brain was spinning as fast as the tires, too much happening for him to really get a grasp on it. He needed to. He couldn’t afford to be spiraling with them potentially heading into a hostile situation. Everything—his confusion and disbelief and, yes, all right, his guilt over Tommy giving up his coven, his worry about what they were walking into, his fear for what could happen in this city if they failed, he had to let it all go. He could almost hear Sally’s voice in his head, chidingly reminding him that he needed to stay focused.

Find an anchor, little love. A single thing to concentrate on and hold onto that, no matter what.

Good advice…but advice he’d struggled to take all his life. He looked over at Tommy again, taking in his profile as he tried to read his stoic expression, tried to figure out what might be running through the vampire’s head. Tommy said he trusted him. After knowing him only a couple of days, Tommy was willing to take risks for him that he wouldn’t have asked of anyone in his coven except maybe Maddie. Had made sacrifices for him that Evan knew down to the marrow of his bones his own parents would never have made. Tommy said he trusted him.

Evan breathed out slowly, his magic ebbing through him in time to his heartbeat. In the face of everything, he let the simple truth that had been trying to form in his mind since Tommy had given up his place in his coven to protect Evan wash over him. He trusted Tommy, too. And that was what he was going to hold onto, no matter what.

Jonah Greenway had lived on a surprisingly quiet street in a small, nondescript house that was neither especially nice nor especially run-down. Tommy took a couple of laps around the block in the SUV, trying to scout if there was anybody already there. Evan had been slightly worried that the place would already have been under a police investigation, but credit where credit was due—the SoCal high coven was very good at keeping their world secret.

“Looks clear,” Tommy muttered after the third lap around the block. They’d stopped a few intersections and pulled into and reversed out of a couple of driveways to hopefully make it look as though they were just lost to any nosy neighbors who might notice a large SUV with heavily tinted windows. He pulled to a stop about a block down the street from Greenway’s house.

“Wait—how are we getting you in there?” Evan asked, tipping his head towards the window…and the sun-drenched street outside it. It would have been easier to wait ‘til at least dusk to leave the bungalow, but the need to give Grant and her coven enough time to do their own investigations created a sense of urgency that would not be ignored.

“I can take sunlight for a few minutes,” Tommy said, frowning distastefully and twisting in his seat to dis around in the floor behind him. He sat up a moment later with a large black hoodie and pulled a pair of gloves out of one of the pockets. “Although no offense, I’m gonna walk a hell of a lot faster than you.”

“Dressed like the villain in an after-school special?” Evan asked dubiously, his eyebrow climbing when Tommy pulled his sun visor down and grabbed a large pair of sunglasses clipped to the edge. “Really?”

“If you have a better suggestion, I’d love to avoid the third-degree sunburn I’m about to get.”

Evan debated a moment, drumming his fingers on his thigh and poking at the edges of his magic, feeling out the strength. Then he turned in his own seat, staring hard out the back windshield at the corner of Greenway’s house that was visible. There was a decently-sized porch with a roof, and Evan knew any witch worth his salt would have had look-away charms on his house, though they might have lost power when Greenway died. Still, if that was the case, then any hexes or traps he’d laid on the property would also be defunct, and Tommy would be able to break into the place quickly. Evan felt confident he could handle any hexes that were still active, and short out an alarm system fast enough that it would register as a glitch.

“Try not to move, okay?” he said, reaching over to grab Tommy’s wrist as he focused on the corner of the porch he could see, and chanted the spell.

His ears popped, the whole world going quiet and shadowy, sound muffling almost to the point that he was enveloped in silence. The air around him turned absolutely freezing, colder than any Pennsylvania winter, and as the spell ended he couldn’t help coughing. Beside him, he heard Tommy gasp something in a language he didn’t recognize—though by the tone, he could tell it wasn’t polite—and the vampire scrambled to his feet, his wrist twisting under Evan’s to grab at his hand and yank him to his feet as well.

They were standing on Greenway’s porch, well-shaded from the afternoon sunlight.

“What the hell?! What did you do?” Tommy demanded, looking around him in shock. “That wasn’t the same thing you did at the office!”

Evan laughed shortly, pulling away so he could examine the door in front of them. The fact that no defense spells had triggered when they appeared on the porch was encouraging, but he wasn’t going to just take it on faith that Greenway didn’t have something more powerful than simple charms and hexes waiting. “No—a teleport is major magic even when you have a coven bond. I’m not risking that unless there’s no other choice. I took us through the between.” He reached out and let his hand hover over the doorknob, unable to feel the telltale tingle of magic against his skin.

“The…wasn’t that where Greenway hid the flash drive?”

“Yup.”

“And you can…go…there?” Tommy continued slowly.

“If you know how. Most of us just use it like Greenway did. Like a hiding place. Kind of a magical safe-deposit box? But the between is as big or small as you know it is, and it exists wherever you know it will. So, if you know it’s big enough to fit you, and you know it exists where you want to be, you can get to it.”

“That—okay, that actually makes a weird sort of sense and explains a couple of encounters I’ve had over the years. I haven’t met any witch who could do something like that in a century or two, though.”

Evan shrugged, still examining the door. “Not a lot of us can, anymore. It’s old magic. Like, old-fashioned magic, not, uh, not old as in ancient. It’s easy to get lost in, so it’s not like it’s in the normal, everyday lessons. Sally only taught me because—” He broke off, his brain catching up with the amount of private information his mouth was just casually giving away.

Tommy was silent for a moment. “Sally was your familiar?” he asked gently.

Evan clenched his jaw, before nodding quickly. “I don’t think there’s any kind of spell on the door,” he said. Thankfully, Tommy accepted the abrupt subject change, stepping around Evan to grip the doorknob and give the door a fast, almost casual shove with his shoulder. The deadbolt snapped in an instant, and Tommy stepped back to interpose himself between Evan and anything that might be waiting for them inside.

Only silence greeted them, however.

Tommy cocked his head, listening intently, before his shoulders relaxed. “It’s empty,” he said. “But stay close.” He stepped inside the darkened interior of Greenway’s house. Evan took a deep breath and followed, his eyes roving over his surroundings curiously.

The house was surprisingly…sterile. It had all the trappings of a home—comfortable furniture, plush carpets on the floors, bookshelves full of books and mementos, art hanging on the walls. Yet, the place felt cold to Evan. There was none of the warmth and character of Tommy’s bungalow. The place felt like a showroom or a magazine cover. Everything perfectly chosen and placed to present a picture that it just…wasn’t.

It felt, he reflected wryly, like the house he had grown up in.

“Howie and Grant already searched the place for anything useful, but the high coven hasn’t gotten here yet. We need them to think we’re looking for something, get them to waste resources trying to find it first. Toss the place?” Tommy asked, glancing back at Evan with a questioning look. Evan shrugged, turning a slow circle in the large, open-plan living space that took up most of the first floor. Something felt…off.

“They really didn’t find anything?” he asked, his eyes darting around the room.

“Nada,” Tommy confirmed, watching as Evan looked all around him. “Why? What are you thinking?”

“Nothing, I just…there’s something…” he trailed off, the frustratingly feeling of something just out of his reach dancing at the edge of his senses. His eyes fell on a mirror propped up in the corner of a set of recessed bookshelves that had been built into the walls on either side of a large picture window in what Greenway had set up as his living room. Directly in front of the window was a large, ornate wooden writing desk. Evan tilted his head and followed the line of where the mirror was facing…to another mirror mounted on the wall by the stairs to the second story. The mirror was positioned oddly, slightly off-center of where Evan would expect it to be, just enough to look a little wonky. In fact, if he stood in front of that mirror and followed the line of where it was facing, he would find…

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Evan muttered.

“What?” Tommy demanded immediately.

In answer, Evan spun another slow circle in the center of the room, tracing the sightlines of multiple mirrors positioned all around the room. That was what he was feeling. He hadn’t quite shaken the chill of the between from his senses, after all…and there was quite a lot of the between in this room.

“He hid something else here,” Evan said, finding the mirror that was positioned in the northernmost part of the room and pacing away from it until he was as close to the center of where the sight lines of all five of the mirrors around the living space met as he could get. “Fucking smart bastard, I’ll give him that.”

“Evan, what are you talking about? I’m pretty sure Howie and Grant would have known to look in this between place.”

“Yeah, but they might not have realized how big the between is here,” Evan countered. “Like I said…it’s not something a lot of witches learn anymore.”

Tommy tilted his head, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked curious, though, not dismissive. “You keep talking like the size of it can change. Isn’t space…you know, space? Like there have to be boundaries.”

“Ever been in one of those house of mirrors they do at fairs and theme parks?” Evan asked, centering himself and focusing hard. He murmured the appropriate spell and reached toward the desk, the way he had in the office building to find the flash drive. The way he’d—sort of, it was a little more complicated than he’d explained to Tommy—done to get them from the car to the porch to avoid the sunlight. Only this time, he reached further into the between. Through all the layers of it that Greenway had folded it upon itself, over and over, until only a witch or familiar who regularly used it to shift themselves through space and not just store and hide things in would have even realized there was that much of it to explore in this house.

Evan did not travel through the between regularly. It was not something that witches did anymore, the dangers of getting lost too great. But he had been very carefully trained by someone who had learned the art in times when it had been a valuable tool for survival.

His hand closed on something in the between, and he curled his fingers around it and yanked. There was a soft pop in the air, and when he looked at the empty desk again, there was a small, leatherbound ledger sitting innocuously in the center of it. “Gotcha,” he hissed. He hurried forward and scooped the ledger off the desk, pulling at the bands of elastic that bound it at each corner.

“Great work Ev—GET DOWN!” Tommy’s voice changed in a flash, rising to a bellow as he lunged at Evan. Between one breath and the next, Tommy had made it across the room and wrapped himself around Evan, pulling Evan tight against his chest and spinning them around so that Tommy’s back was to the window.

There was a loud sound of shattering glass.

The clatter of something hitting the desk.

And then the whole world around Evan exploded into a mass of light. And sound. And force.

Evan felt himself lifted off his feet, flung across the room. Tommy’s body was wrapped tight around him, the vampire’s arms shielding him protectively, his face pressed hard against Tommy’s throat. They hit the floor hard enough that the breath was knocked from Evan’s lungs, but he was still dimly aware of Tommy taking the brunt of the landing, rolling them with the momentum, one hand cradling the back of Evan’s head and keeping it from cracking on the hardwood floors as they came to a rolling halt.

Evan coughed, everything spinning around him in dizzying circles, his ears ringing so loudly he could barely hear anything over it. His whole body hurt, and when he pulled his head back from Tommy’s neck, the room was suddenly hazy with smoke. What…what had—

“Tommy?” he gasped, when the vampire made no move to let go, to get up. “Tommy, what—”

He could hardly hear his own voice, though he knew he was shouting. He gripped Tommy’s shoulder, more relief than he was willing to examine at the moment sweeping through him when he felt the vampire’s muscles bunch under his touch, felt Tommy shudder and start to struggle to get up. Something was wrong, though.

His vampire was moving too slowly, too sluggishly. When Evan blinked some of the hazy smoke out of his eyes, Tommy’s face—mere inches from his own—was twisted in a grimace of pain. Something hard pressed into the top of Evan’s abdomen, right under his breastbone, and he slowly became aware of a hot wetness seeping into his borrowed shirt. Gasping, he wrenched himself backwards enough so he could look down, a buzzing that had nothing to do with his ringing ears filling his head when his eyes focused on the massive, wickedly sharp chunk of splintered wood that was poking into his chest.

The massive, wickedly sharp chunk of splintered wood that had impaled Tommy through the back, gone clear through his body.

“Tommy! Tommy, what—”

“Evan…run,” his vampire managed to grit out, blood spilling from the corners of his mouth.

“Aw come on Kinard. Let the witch stay.”

Evan’s heart sank, his eyes flying to the gaping hole where Greenway’s front window had been only seconds before. The blond vampire from the office building was clambering through the jagged opening, flanked by two other vampires that Evan hadn’t seen before. They were covered head to toe in the same getup that Tommy had been going to try to use to get across the sunny street—hoodies, gloves, long pants—but every inch of exposed skin was blistered and peeling, obviously burned by even what short exposure they’d had to the sun.

Blondie pulled his hood back, glaring at Evan and Tommy, a nasty smirk firmly in place on his face. Evan’s eyes flicked between the three of them as Tommy tried to push at his shoulder, still struggling to get his feet under him, even as more blood spurted out from around the piece of fucking shrapnel sprouting out of his chest.

Tommy was hurt. Badly.

The vampire who had protected him over and over, even when it made no logical sense for him to do so. The vampire who had been kinder and gentler to him over the past two days than any one of his own kind had been over the past five years. His vampire, who had refused to let Evan walk into danger alone.

His vampire, who had given up his own coven to stay by Evan’s side, against odds that would have sent any sane person running for the hills. His vampire.

Evan curled his arm protectively over Tommy’s back and reached for every drop of magic in his body, the most dangerous spell Sally had ever taught him fairly exploding out of him in a rush of power.

#911 abc #911 tv show #mywriting #bucktommy #evan buckley #evan buck buckley #buck x tommy #tommy kinard #shameless self promotion #kinley #firepilot #firebeast #tevan #tevan fic #bucktommy fic

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lafaiette · 2 days ago

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The level of disappointment I feel for the new dragon age game is just so consuming. Like I'll admit that after so many years, I didn't think it would hold true to what the previous game set up. But I hate that I was right, and I hate that a game series I loved so much sas turned into what it is now. I didn't buy it at launch because I wanted to wait for a sale, but with all that I'm hearing I'm wondering if it's even worth it. I'm just so sad for how this all went and I wish it hadn't happened. It even makes replaying the old games feel like scorched earth because nothing I do will have an effect on anything. It never mattered. The game that said my choices matter has now said "actually you never mattered" and I'm so heartbroken about it.

It even makes replaying the old games feel like scorched earth because nothing I do will have an effect on anything. It never mattered. The game that said my choices matter has now said "actually you never mattered" and I'm so heartbroken about it.

This is also one of the most painful parts for me, together with the way they handled - or ignored - a majority of the established lore.

In Veilguard, we learn that the majority of the South is basically gone: Denerim is lost, Redcliffe is under siege, getting help from the dwarves of Orzammar, who are already stretched thin. The ruler of Ferelden is never addressed - what happened to them? Are they still alive? Are they defending Redcliffe? We'll never know.

Orlais is also lost. Val Royeaux and Halamshiral are barely holding on, and a noble faction decided (for some stupid reason) to join the Venatori and spread even more chaos. The ruler of Orlais is never addressed - are they dead? Did the rebel nobility kill them? What happened to Briala's elves? We'll never know.

Kirkwall has fallen, and Aveline has been forced to evacuate the city and move the few survivors to Starkhaven. We know that Varric is dead, so Aveline or someone else will have to take his place, if Kirkwall can even be recovered (doubtful at this point).

The Blight is back in Ostagar and the Korcari Wilds, too, with only some Avvar and Alamarri clans keeping things under control while in a temporary truce with Ferelden.

Everything we ever accomplished in DA:O, DA2, and DA:I is gone. They turned the South into a blank state so they can leave it there, ignoring it, now that the focus will be on Those Across the Sea, as the secret ending slide shows. This blank state will also allow them to return to the South, should they ever wish to, but without the need to take into account the players' past choices, because everything we knew, everything we built and fought for, is gone.

"Oh, Ferelden changed so much in the last twenty years or so, ever since that terrible Blight caused by the elven gods!"

"Orlais isn't the same anymore, there is another civil war because we lost our previous ruler. Who was it? Oh, I don't know, I wasn't born yet, I couldn't care less."

"Pity about Kirkwall. I heard it was a shithole, but the beer at the Hanged Man was apparently pretty good."

^ This is what we will get in the future.

#da:tv critical #da:tv spoilers #dragon age: the veilguard spoilers #also the executors being the cause of everything #DON'T GET ME STARTED ON THAT BULLSHIT BECAUSE I WILL CRY #loghain's betrayal at ostagar? nah it was the illuminati <3 #the magisters sidereal breaking into the black city? nah it was the illuminati <3 #the red lyrium idol being found by two dwarven brothers and their ragtag team of mercenaries? nah it was the illuminati <3

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lorenzozurzolocanruinmylife · 1 day ago

Text

Until fate do us together -Theo Nott x f.reader

t.w. Light drugs, fainting and I think nothing else but lmk if I should add something

You didn’t think of yourself as a mysterious person, not really. Anyone could look at your face and know exactly what you were thinking in that split second.

So it was admittedly hard for you to keep a secret, not because you had a big blabbering mouth, perhaps you thought of yourself as the perfect embodiment of loyalty, just as your house Hufflepuff wanted. But your face couldn’t hold in any emotion, no matter how hard you tried to fight to keep up your poker face.

The only secret you had never ever showed was the one that kept you up at night, the one that made your blood pump through your veins faster than ever.

You liked someone.

It wasn’t anyone, it was Theodore Nott, heir of one of the most illustrious and respected (and feared) families in the wizarding world.

Theo, as he preferred to be called, was a sight for sore eyes, he had some sort of gloomy look that paradoxically could heat up the fire within every girl, even the most uptight.

As of now that’s really all you could tell about him, because even though you were extremely extroverted and nice with everyone you never dared to interact with him. How could you? You didn’t trust yourself, you just knew that it would have taken one look to let him know loud and clear that you could’ve died for him.

You didn’t wanna take that chance, because if he rejected you, or really just ignored you, it would have destroyed your self confidence and not only, but also your safe place. Because after all those years that you spent fantasizing about him and you together, you had built such comforting reality that was just way better than the one you were actually living in.

This whole thing was ridiculous, and you knew it, but it became something too important for you to fumble in just one shot, so you just ignored him.

You avoided him in any possible way, anytime you had a class together you asked the professors if you could change your schedule, anytime there was a party or an event in which he could have been you didn’t go, you avoided each and every member of his friend group because you didn’t want to have anything to do with him.

But then again fate never lets anyone decide for themselves.

In an awfully quiet night in the greenhouse you had just finished setting all the plants and feeding them when you thought you deserved a treat for your hard work, and because of the stressful week you had just been through. So you reached in one of Hufflepuff’s secret “pots” for some…you guess it. You rolled the blunt and light it, you were pretty sure no one would come at the greenhouse at this hour, everyone probably was in their common rooms already so you didn’t even think of closing the door with some sort of charm.

Your relaxing moment was interrupted when you heard the door snap open and two male voices, you hid under one of the tables as fast as you could. To say your heart was exploding was a euphemism, this had never happened to you during your gardening sessions, not once!

You couldn’t make out the voices anymore because of how much anxiety was paralyzing your senses, all the worst scenarios came to your head: maybe they were Professor Snape and Dumbledore, it was definitely them, who else would come here right now?! And when they find you??? What would have happened? You surely were gonna get expelled! Or worse…sent to Azkaban, BUT YOU WERE TOO YOUNG TO GO TO AZKABAN!!!

Million thoughts were running around in your head when four feet stopped in front of the table under which you were hiding, and slowly the table cloth was gonna expose you to the two. When it had been pulled away you fainted under there, with your fingers still holding the blunt, the whole scene unraveled before the eyes of Lorenzo Berkshire and Mattheo Riddle.

They came here to steal some pot just like you did, when suddenly they not only smelled it as if someone was already smoking but also heard some shuffling noises, and that’s how they found you.

Now they were baffled, and also slightly holding their laughter.

“Mate…c’mon stop laughing, we must have scared her to death” “Suits her for being such a naughty student! Smoking pot in the greenhouse…without inviting us?!” Mattheo answered still drying some of his laughing tears. “So what should we do now?” Enzo looked at Mattheo as if he actually trusted him with the whole situation. “I know how to do cpr” Mattheo smirked “I bet she wouldn’t mind it, am I right babydoll?”, when he turned to look jokingly at you he saw you slowly batting your eyes.

You opened them and here you were, on the Greenhouse’s floor holding a joint, you looked up and you saw them, and as if you saw a ghost your face without missing a beat turned white.

“Woah woah breathe, don’t worry he was just joking” Enzo said getting on his knees so he could be at your eye level, putting a hand on your shoulder to steady you.

“Yeah don’t worry love, I definitely would have bought you dinner first”, and with that you chuckled shyly.

“Oh good Godrick You guys nearly gave me an heart attack, I thought you were Snape and Dumbledore” they both laughed, and after that they introduced themselves.

You decided to share the joint with them to have a laugh about what happened, even though this whole interaction was far from your “Slytherin avoidance” plan, but you were enjoying yourself way too much to shy away.

“So do you come here a lot to…you know?” Mattheo asked “Well I do help a lot around here, and I know where everyone hide their stuff, so like once or twice a week I come here and just chill out”.

“From the next time you have to invite us too, we’re now your two personal smoke buddies” you giggled at what Enzo said, “Anyways it’s really weird how we never shared any class, and I know for sure we have some classes with Hufflepuff, because half of the girls in the grade hate my guts” Mattheo said making you feel a bit uneasy, because you knew perfectly why you never had a single class together.

“Yeah right, so it has to be you that is hiding huh? Are you trying to ignore Slytherins for some reason?” “Yeah Enzo it’s years I’ve been trying to not see your face and you still found a way to jumpscare me!”.

The door snapped open again, and the three of you all tried to see who it was, but “You tossers where the hell are you hiding? We’ve been waiting for a fucking hour, you didn’t have to smoke it by yourselves!”. Possibly your heart started beating faster than before, this wasn’t just a scare this was your personal nightmare.

You tried to find a way out without being noticed, Mattheo and Enzo were standing up, you looked up at them and without even thinking you stood and hurriedly told them “It was such a pleasure meeting you guys, I- I gotta go, bye!”, and you sprinted out of there.

Theo looked at you throughout the scene and remained speechless, “Who the hell was that? And why have I never seen her before? And why was she here with you guys?” Mattheo walked towards Theo clapping a hand on his shoulder “Theo Theo Theo, the less you know the better, let’s get going Berkshire” “As you wish princess” just like that the three of them went back to their dorm.

“So are you guys gonna tell me who that was?” “Her name’s y/n and we don’t have any classes in common” Enzo finally answered the now impatient Theo, “it’s such a shame though, I wouldn’t mind seeing that pretty face sometimes” said Mattheo.

As you tried to sleep you just kept thinking of the incredible coincidence that had happened that night, how this was the first time you and Theo were so close, how his voice was so so so deep and just…sexy.

You heated up just with the memory of it, that fueled your fantasies in an astonishing way.

The next day you had just finished charms class with Ravenclaw and you were headed towards the great hall for lunch when you felt two pair of arms circle your neck at the same time. “Good morning y/n! Found you again, maybe it’s destiny trying to tell us something, what do you say?” “Ugh Mattheo please can you not harass her? And then you ask why we always hang with the same people” Mattheo sticked out his middle finger without even looking at Enzo. “So we were thinking if you wanted to come to our party tonight?” “I get it, I get it, you think you found your new pusher, is that all I am to you guys? I thought what happened yesterday was a real bonding experience…maybe I was wrong” you tried to pretend to be hurt while also trying to avoid answering to their invitation. “Oh come onnnn you know you’re more than that, you’re cool and we want you to meet the group” “please we desperately need someone new or I will blow my brains out! Plus you’ve never been to a Slytherin party before, because trust me darling, I would’ve remembered you” Mattheo winked at you. “Flattery isn’t going to make me say yes” “and what will?” Enzo asked right after “ummm I don’t know guys, I-“ you were going to say something when through the corner of your eyes you saw Theo. He started appearing behind them and walking in their way, which meant…your…way, “I- I’m really really hungry- I can’t even think straight! I’ll let you know after lunch, okay? Okay! Bye guys!”. And just like the day before you cowardly escaped, really embarrassing.

“What the?” “I know right why does she always seem to be running out of time at some point?” Mattheo and Enzo were interrupted by Theo “who were you talking to?” “Y/n, it’s crazy as soon as you approach she has to go away” Enzo said out loud what everyone was thinking.

“Are you sure you’re not the same person? Because I’ve never seen you two in the same room” Mattheo said trying to peel off some sort of mask off Theo’s face, and he just slapped his hand.

“Very funny, really. And what were you talking about?” Theo asked while trying to look for you in the river of people moving towards the great hall. He was starting to be intrigued by you, he had never seen you before, never even known about your existence and now you were merely a presence whenever there was his own, he didn’t know if it was starting to get on his nerves or to challenge him in to this game of catch.

“Nothing much we thought it would be cool if she came to the party tonight” “Do you have a thing for her?” Theo looked suspiciously at Mattheo who was suddenly so hung up on this girl. “Well she’s pretty yes but mostly she’s really nice and chill, you know…a nice addition to the group” he stopped as if to meditate to say or not the next thing “but I mean…I definitely wouldn’t mind” Enzo facepalmed and they found their way to the rest of the group who was already sat and dining.

You on the other end of the Hall, were trying to think of a plan, because you sure as hell weren’t gonna go to that party.

Although you found it flattering that they had known you for just one day, barely, and still thought to invite you, still the only real problem was dealing with Theo. Not in a million years you would be able to go through a conversation with him, let alone spend a whole evening in his presence.

You were so hung up on all these thoughts creating a vortex of paranoia and anxiety in your head that you had lost your appetite, so you decided to just leave and go spend some time in the library that was certainly empty since everyone was here.

And you just craved to be alone for just one second.

Arrived at the library you took a random book out of your bag and opened it at an even more random page, because reading was just your disguise.

Part of your secret was that whenever you felt uneasy or anxious you would just space out and dream about Theo, and that’s why it was so important for you to conceal it, the whole thing. Throughout all the years that you had been admiring Theo this daydream scenario grew more and more, and it always brought you peace and you wouldn’t have traded it with nothing else, not with Mattheo and Enzo’s friendship, not with hanging out with Theo, hell, not even with his friendship. You just didn’t want to disappoint yourself, because what if in reality he would just find you annoying or viceversa? What if he thought you were one of the many ridiculous fan girls? You wanted to stick with your dreams because they never they were too comfortable, and you couldn’t.nor.wouldn’t.trade.that.

As you were completely zoned out, two book shelves away Pansy Parkinson was desperately crying hiding from everyone because she figured, as well as you did, no one would be in the library at this hour.

So without knowing that someone actually was in there, she let herself get lost in sobs and snotty whines, very loudly so much so that at one point you got distracted by them and feeling sorry for whoever was so upset you, slightly annoyed, decided to check on them.

You knocked on the book shelve as if to ask for permission “Hey…is everything alright?” she immediately passed an elbow on her nose to dry it off, feeling embarrassed almost mortified. “Mind your fucking business, will you?” she abruptly answer, and at that you wanted to slap yourself and damn your stupid nosy empathy, so before even seeing who was behind the shelf you started to go back. “No- wait, sorry” she said regretting her impulsively rude ways. So you turned back and finally saw who was the mysterious crier and you thought to yourself -what a fucking coincidence- once again. “Sorry I didn’t mean to pry, or overhear this, I should have minded my business…but here” you handed her a tissue and she gave you a weak smile “thanks, and I’m the one who should be apologizing, I came off way too harsh while you were just being nice”. “May I?” you pointed on the spot on the floor beside her “Go ahead” “Do you want to talk about it?”, Pansy had never seen you before, which was basically impossible since she knew everyone, and for one second she thought that maybe you were an angel summoned to support her, came disguised as a regular hufflepuff girl.

She started to explain what had made her so upset, her secret crush Angelina Johnson had found out about this infatuation and humiliated Pansy by rejecting her in front of the Great Hall, so she just ran to hide in here, never having felt so weak in her life.

“She said that I was a filthy slytherin asshole and that she’d rather be with Filch than to ever consider being with me” you hugged her and you started to tear up a bit with her, also kind of relating to her because that was your biggest fear, and you would be just as devastated, if not more, if Theo ever said something like that to you. “She’s clearly blind, because you are probably the hottest girl in school and you are such a catch and if she doesn’t get that than she’s just daft”, she hugged you back twice as tight. “I heard that there’s a party tonight, you should go, dressed up with a great makeup on and let her know that you don’t care in the slightest of her objectively stupid opinion” “you are so right, we’re definitely going” we? “We? As in…you and her?” She looked at you with a stare that meant -are you for real- “No girl me and you”.

“Oh no no I have so much to study I can’t- really” “no please come on, you have to come with me, we will have so much fun, if you don’t come I will stay in my room and cry all night looooong” she prayed you with a really pouting face.

You were doomed.

There was no possible way back.

Pansy had been very persuasive, at least more than Enzo and Mattheo, but really you were just too gullible and manipulable.

It really seemed as if fate wanted you and Theo to meet, which basically means that it wanted for you to end up just like Pansy, maybe it would have made you bond even more, more plausibly it would have made you transfer schools and country.

Let me know if you’d like a pt. 2🤠

#slytherin boys #theo nott #theodore nott #theodore nott imagine #theo nott x reader #slytherin boys x reader #theodore nott x you #mattheo riddle #enzo berkshire #pansy parkinson

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i-messed-up-big-time · 1 day ago

Text

Broken Trust

Xavier x fem!Reader

Hey guys this is my first ever little drabble for the LADS boys, feel free to send in requests about what you would like to see next!

I will be coming up with a list of rules and a masterlist soon to make finding these short fics easier!

Tags: hurt/comfort, angst, reader is not MC, reader is female, swearing, fighting wanderers, violence, blood, reader gets really hurt, slight OOC Xavier (I'm trying my best to make it as accurate as possible 😭), mentions of death

Word count: 3088

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Xavier

Countless days and nights passed by slowly, the walk home is too quiet without your little rambles about your missions or the things you and Tara got up to when you were supposed to be working.

By habit, Xavier presses the floor that leads to your apartment. Shaking his head he presses the number to his floor and silently watches the door slowly open to your floor, missing the time he would spend at your apartment.

He regrets leaving you alone that day to go see MC instead. He doesn't know what came over him but it doesn't excuse him leaving you when you needed him the most.

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It hurt, not seeing him knowing he was just a floor away from me, but what hurt even more was knowing she was on the same floor as me.

Seeing her when I'm leaving or going, the guilty look in her eyes every time she looked my way. It was all so overbearing and annoying.

I hate the way she keeps looking at me every time she sees me. It makes me feel like I'm being rude when I ignore her greetings or when I turn away every time she looks my way.

Every day feels worse without him by my side, but it hurts knowing I wasn't his first priority ever since she came into the picture, the lovable hunter with determination in her eyes that shine brighter than Xavier's evol.

What does she have that I don't? Why was she more important than me, his girlfriend?

"It pisses me off that he hasn't even tried to apologize since that day." I said to myself.

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One week ago

Ever since that new hunter joined the Hunter Association a couple months back I've notice Xavier is barely around anymore, always off somewhere with her under the pretext of Jenna asking him to train her.

"He's supposed to be my partner and helping me out with my missions. Couldn't Jenna assign a different hunter to train MC? Why did it have to be Xavier?" I spoke to myself as I walked down the streets of Linkon in search of something to eat.

I found a nice place with some yummy looking pastries that looked to die for, but before I could even look at the menu my hunter watch beeped with notifications of a mission.

With a heavy sigh I left the little shop and headed to where my mission was located. Luckily Xavier would be joining me on this mission.

It's been a while since we've been on a mission together. I think to myself as I smile.

Who knew I'd would be so wrong.

"It's been two hours why isn't Xavier here yet?!" I say to myself as slash another wanderer. It was getting increasingly harder to keep up with the hoard of wanderers that just kept spawning out of nowhere.

"Fuck! Xavier when I get my hands on you I swear to god!" I yelled out.

I tried contacting him again and it just kept ringing until it went to voicemail again, and in that fleeting moment of distraction I failed to notice the wanderer behind me until it was too late.

The pain was paralyzing, I felt the wanderer remove its weapon from and go in for another attack. Only this time it never connected.

I heard a sharp ringing in my ear as my vision started to go blurry from the blood loss. I heard voices and the sound of footsteps before I collided with ground which sent a searing pain through my head as I passed out.

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At the hospital

Beep..... beep..... beep.....

I flinched at the noise as I started to regain my senses, and that's when the pain hit me tenfold. I groaned while clutching my head,

"Ugh it hurts so much." I cried out.

"I would assume as much considering you were very gravely injured." A familiar calm and cool voice spoke up. I looked to the side to see Zayne standing next to me with a clipboard in hand.

"You woke up right on time, let me ask you a few questions about how you're feeling." He looked down at his clipboard and started asking his questions one by one, diligently noting down everything I said.

"Unfortunately the wound will take a few weeks to heal up completely, I've written a note for your superiors requesting that you be put on leave until you are fully recovered, and I won't take no as an answer." He said as he narrowed his gaze at me noticing my mouth open to refute.

I slouched back into the hospital bed. "Ok I get it" I spoke in a voice that sounded like a toddler who just got scolded for eating dessert before dinner.

"Good, I'm glad we came to this agreement. Do you have anyone to come pick you up or do you need a ride back home?" Zayne asked. I silently shook my head no.

"Wait for me to finish your discharge papers and then I'll take you home." He spoke in that calm and comforting voice he has when he notices something is wrong with me.

I guess nothing can get past this childhood friend of mine, he knows me too well.

"Thank you Zayne, I really appreciate it." He hummed out a response and then left.

That's when everything that happened came crashing down on me.

Xavier left me alone, how could he?

The thought caused my eyes to start welling up with tears, the reality of the situation making my heart feel heavy.

Zayne came by and helped me get into his car and drove me home. The ride to my place was silent, I could tell Zayne wanted to ask me questions but seeing my face he kept it to himself knowing that the questions would only cause more pain.

"Thank you again Zayne, I know I can always trust you." I smiled at him as I got out of his car.

"I'll always be there for you, I'm only a call away if you need anything." Zayne said with a ghost of a smile. He helped me to my apartment and stood next to me as I tried to unlock the door.

I hope I don't see Xavier or MC anytime soon. I don't want to deal with either of them.

Speak of the devil and he appears, the elevators open to reveal MC and Xavier with smiles on their faces and what looked like plushies in their hands. Xavier noticed me and his face dropped in concern over my condition.

Luck was on my side as the door opened and I quickly got inside bidding Zayne farewell and expressing my gratitude for his help once again.

I locked the door and quickly made my way to my bedroom, locking the door behind me.

Not even a minute later I heard my phone going off with calls from Xavier. I ignored them and moved to the bathroom to wash up before getting into bed.

Under the warm water of the shower I let my tears flow and sobbed my heart out, the pain from the wounds, the pain from Xavier leaving me to go to a claw machine arcade with MC.

I risked my life to fight those wanderers and he was out having fun? I can't do this anymore, I can't keep trying to act like everything is fine.

Today was my last straw, as I got out of the shower I sent Xavier a quick message,

Me: Xavier, I can't do this anymore. I don't want to be a second option and I don't want to be left in a situation where my partner can't do their job.

You left me to deal with the mission myself, I don't want to hear from you again.

We're done.

I shut my phone off and slid into bed.

It's gonna be a long few weeks of recovery.

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Xavier

I messed up.

That's all Xavier could think of when he saw the condition you were in. He doesn't know what came over him, but whenever he's with MC it feels like something has taken over him.

"Do you want me to leave Xavier?" He came to his senses when he heard MC's voice next to him.

"Yes I think that would be for the best." Xavier gave her a curt reply and turned towards your door, unlocking the door and getting inside. He made his way to your bedroom only to find the door unlocked, he was about to knock when he heard your sobs.

They were full of pain and it hurt him to know he was the reason for those painful sounds coming from you.

He silently turned away and decided it was best to let you have your space and come to you later.

As he made his way upstairs he decided to check his phone.

10 missed calls from you

3 missed calls from the Hunter Association

Shit

He cursed at himself for missing all of these calls.

What am I gonna do to make it up to her?

He thought to himself.

Its as if the gods above heard him and decided to send him his punishment right away.

He heard the familiar ping of a text message, knowing that tone was the one he set for you.

Y/N: Xavier, I can't do this anymore. I don't want to be a second option and I don't want to be left in a situation where my partner can't do their job.

You left me to deal with the mission myself, I don't want to hear from you again.

We're done.

The silence in the house was deafening, you could almost hear his heart shatter.

Please no. Please don't let this be true.

Xavier started to panic, the weight of everything crashing down on him like a ton of bricks. He went back down to your apartment, letting himself in and knocking on the door of your bedroom, unaware of the fact that you were fast asleep due to the pain.

"Please Y/N, I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me and I know that's not an excuse. Please just let me explain myself." Xavier begged.

His back slid against the door as he sat on the floor, "I'm so sorry." Tears welled up in his eyes but he refused to let them drop. Time passed by and soon Xavier fell asleep in front of your door, waiting in hopes that you would open the door and talk to him.

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The next morning you noticed him sprawled out on the floor in front of your bedroom door. Not having any energy to deal with him, I stepped over him and slowly made my way to the kitchen to get something to eat so that I could take my medication.

"Y/N?" I heard Xavier's worried voice behind

I ignored him and continued to look for some food in my fridge. I ended up making the wrong move and let out a loud shriek of pain. groaning I held my stomach feeling the bandages get a little wet.

Xavier took a step forward to try and help but I held up a hand to stop him. "I don't need your help, you had your chance and made your choice. Please just leave me alone."

I saw his face drop in guilt, it hurt me to see him like that but not as much as the pain in my abdomen and heart.

"I'm sorry, please just let me take care of you." Xavier spoke in that soft tone, the one that I loved to hear the most when he would take care of me whenever I was injured.

"No. Leave, right now." I spat out through gritted teeth, the pain becoming a little more unbearable.

He resigned himself to listen and made his way to the front door, but before leaving he said, "I'll make it up to you, please just give me some time to make things right." With that he left me to ponder over his words in the silent apartment.

･゜ﾟ･:.｡..｡.:･''･:.｡. .｡.:･゜ﾟ･･゜ﾟ･:.｡..｡.:･''･:.｡. .｡.:･゜ﾟ･

Present

This past week has been nothing but exhausting pain and constant crying.

I took a look at myself in the mirror on my way to my steaming bath.

Oh god, I look horrendous!

The bags under my eyes were dark, my skin looked so dull and my eyes looked puffy and red.

Determined to give myself a well deserved self-care day I started on getting washed up before applying some skin care before relaxing in the bath.

After some time I got out and dried myself down, wearing the fresh pair of PJ's that I had set out earlier on my bed, but before I could get back into bed the doorbell went off.

Groaning, I sluggishly made my way to the front door. When I opened it I was greeted with a face full of my favourite flowers.

What the hell?

Just as I was about to say something I saw the familiar mop of grey-brown hair pop up from behind the flowers. Sad and guilty filled blue eyes staring back at me.

Irritated I moved to close the door when his hand reached out to hold it in place.

"Please wait!" Xavier exclaimed, I don't think I have it in me to face him. This past week I've been fighting myself about dating Xavier again.

He was my best friend before he was my boyfriend, I miss my best friend.

With a small sigh I moved away from the entrance, giving him some space to come in.

I'll hear him out. I know deep down I want to make it work, but I'm not gonna tell him that.

I close the door and made my way to the couch, my movement being a little less restricted than before but there's still that constant dull ache of pain.

Xavier set the flowers down on a nearby table and was on his knees in front of me taking a hold of my hands. He gently ran his thumbs over my knuckles before speaking up.

"I don't want to give you excuses, but I mean it when I say I don't know what came over me and why I ignored all those calls or why I have been pushing you away and spending more time with MC."

Upon closer look I could see the bags under his eyes and the tiredness that he tried to hide but failed to do so.

It looks like he hasn't been sleeping at all.

He dropped his head down and I noticed the slight shake in his shoulders,

"I don't know what I would have done if I lost you because of my foolishness."

It was then I felt the tear drops on my lap, my resolve breaking as my heart couldn't bear to see him so broken.

I cupped his face and turned his face to look at me, the tears running down his face and the guilt in his eyes even more apparent than before.

"You really hurt me Xav."

His eyes widened a bit at the use of the name I had for him, he tried to look away in shame but I kept my grip firm.

"I thought I was going to die. I trusted you with my life the day you became my partner, and you broke that all for another girl."

I could see how my words affected him, and a part of me is glad that they hurt him.

Even if it's only a fraction of the pain I had to endure, I want him to understand my pain.

"I'm not going to ask you to tell me about whatever is going on between you because I don't want to get hurt."

I could feel the sting of tears in my eyes, and soon enough the tears started to drop.

"Please Y/N, I promise there's nothing between MC and I." Xavier says in a hushed voice as he reaches out to wipe away my tears.

"In this life and every other life after, my heart only belongs to you." His declaration made my heart flutter.

"I know you don't want to hear about whatever is going on with MC, but I can promise you that it was merely a distant connection from a past life, nothing more than that."

If there was one thing that I could trust, it was that the eyes are truly the window to the soul and Xavier's eyes told no lies.

I sighed and leaned back onto the couch, letting go of Xavier's face. I closed my eyes to let my brain and emotions process.

I know I shouldn't but just this time, I'll give him another chance.

I opened my eyes and looked at Xavier, patting my lap to signal him to come and lay his head in my lap.

He quickly obliged and made himself comfortable with his arms wrapped carefully around my waist, holding me as if I was just an illusion that would disappear.

I ran my fingers through his hair, the action causing his body to relax and lean into the touch.

"It'll take some time for us to get back to where we used to be. I trust you when you say that there's nothing going on between you two, but my trust in you as my partner is broken."

I spoke softly, feeling myself relax for the first time since the incident.

Xavier got up from his position and knelt beside me on the couch, gingerly taking my face into his hands.

"I promise you, I will spend every moment working on rebuilding that trust and more. You are the only light I need in this life and every life after it."

He whispered before placing a soft kiss on my lips. He then pulled back and got off the couch, lifting me up in his arms.

Surprised, I let out a squeal wrapping my arms around his neck.

"Xavier! Be careful!"

He let out a small laugh and kissed my forehead.

"Let me take care of you, to make up for the week that you've been by yourself. You deserve nothing less than the best."

I smiled up at him, reaching up give him a small peck on the cheek.

"You better be ready to be at my beck and call." I joked,

"I'd do anything for you, even if you want this world to be in ruins."

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aroaceleovaldez · 3 months ago

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they cast a 28 year old for Tyson 💀

[relevant rants: here and here]

yeah, i saw - i wasn't holding onto hope of them casting a disabled actor for Tyson (still disappointed, just not surprised) but casting a 28 year old for a middle schooler is really out of left field. It's just an odd choice? Particularly given how much they've been emphasizing age-accurate casting so far.

It makes me really wonder what major rewrites they have planned for Tyson's character. Because as things stand currently there's no way to make Tyson's existing character work with this casting. Tyson is supposed to be in Percy's grade, but Daniel Diemer sticks out like a sore thumb against the child actors. Tyson being in Percy's grade is pretty important for the entire arc of Sea of Monsters with the main character arc being Percy combating internalized ableism and establishing him as a character who stands up for other marginalized kids. If they remove that, what's Percy's arc going to be for that entire season? At what point are they going to establish that about his character? Or are they just going to exposition it at us like usual with nothing backing it up and no actual character progression? And in later seasons the age gap is only going to be more prominent - like how is Tyson going to work in BoTL or TLO? Are they planning on removing his character entirely for those scenes? Are they going to remove him as a recurring character in general? It'd be really weird if they killed him off or something.

I'm also afraid for if they do try to keep Tyson's disability coding in some form - cause there's kind of no good way it can go at this point. Either they completely erase Tyson's coding because they cast an abled actor for him and that messes up the entire arc of the book and his character particularly in relation to Percy, or they have an abled actor attempt to portray a character heavily coded as having down syndrome (and i believe they're already doing similar with iirc Chiron's actor is abled but they're doubling-down in the show on Chiron being disabled) and given how they've written the neurodivergence themes (or absence there of) in the show so far there's just no way that'd end well. Like, Tyson's characterization is a little questionable to begin with in the books, but given the show's writing so far it just feels like we're very rapidly ramping up for an extremely ableist characterization of Tyson. Like i'm sure Daniel Diemer is a great actor, but... i'm just getting real tired of the show erasing the entire premise of the series :T

anyways as per my initial post about pjo tv tyson casting theories i guess it's time for me to start tearing stuff apart with my teeth ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#pjo #riordanverse #pjo tv #pjo tv crit #tyson pjo #Anonymous #ask #sorry to play debbie downer i just would really like the Disability Series to. yknow. keep the Disability part in it.#the show has kind of already had subtle problems in the casting with stuff like a lack of plus-sized actors for plus-sized characters #and again with like Chiron casting abled actors for disabled characters. im glad they did it for Hephaestus #and im VERY happy about Hephaestus' casting. but he seems to be the only time they've actually done that in the casting so far #im not even sure if any of the demigod actors are adhd/dyslexic? i havent heard anything about it #like its not uncommon so i wouldnt be surprised if they are but i would think we would have heard about that by now if so #deepest sigh. i think the most annoying part is the series has so much potential to be really good!#like most of the casting would be the best thing ever if only the script was actually decent #i mean im not surprised if disney is afraid to cast more than one disabled actor or any plus-sized actors for major roles #cause it's disney. of course they'd be like that. which just kind of continues my point of - if youre gonna adapt a franchise #you should really be aware of like. the major details about it and the characters. before you dive head first into it and go #''oh whoops! no we cant do any of that because we dont want to. guess we'll just Change Everything or blatantly ignore it.''

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stuck-in-the-ghost-zone · 5 months ago

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preemptively sorry for how fucking long this is it is YOUR FAULTT THOUGH!!!! large bowl of seeds for u. it is almost 2am sorry.

SO. there are. two ways to assign the prime defenders powers etc. the first way is just, like, categorize their existing powersets within the prt framework, & the second is to give them entirely new abilities based on the way worm works. delightfully, all the powers they Do have work really well for the most part, so even that doesn't require a ton of shuffling.

categorizing their pre-existing powers:

wiwi-- breaker w/ a shaker subclass. neither of them rated very high, but that's already a rare and versatile enough combination!!

dakota-- brute babeeeey!!! brute/mover its so straightforward. hell yeah babey. i don't know what he'll end up looking like post-heart removal & stuff but my guess is that'll end up looking more like a mover/striker.

vyncent-- now THIS one gave me trouble. i... hm. to say this without talking about stuff that i don't think has come up much already, (hey!! you're at that clockblocker pov! directly related to what flechette says!) i'd call him a grab-bag cape, irt the greats at least. post-greats-- again, i don't know what his powerset will look like after this arc! but if he's going all in w/ the fire magic, that would for sure be some striker shit! :]]]

giving them new powers... man i'm reining myself in so hard from five more paragraphs on Why exactly i'm saying all this.

wiwi still breaker for sure, maybe breaker-master, maybe master-stranger. yknow. powers are fluid, the prt categories are pretty rigid. i... don't know. enough about his situation yet to be clearer than that vague idea yet-- i really like the idea of him just. ditching his body & using a noncorporeal form but he still has to keep an eye on his body i think that's great. the noncorporeal form would b able to change its visibility but still b limited by proximity to the body. & fluctuating energy shit powered by fluctuating amounts of recent-death in the area, maybe probably also limited in that it's only accessible in his breaker form.... also i think u will appreciate this style note from the [UNNAMED PARAHUMANS TTRPG] i'm referencing a lot here.

dakota--in this situation he probably would not. have that mechanical heart and shit. he' would still be a mover/thinker-- thinker rating is for faster mental processing + senses imminent pain for the people in his immediate vicinity. not danger, just pain; it immediately registers ambiently & can be generally traced back to whoever it is. no he can't turn it off ever, it manifests as feeling a similar level of pain, yes it works on himself. + mover-- he can fucking fly. no super strength, just very fast flight & the general "won't splat himself flying into something" capabilities, which meshes well w/ the faster processing & reflexes. i'm split on how exactly this would work mechanically but i will NOT go into that now. i am also not going into the 15k discussion in my brain on why dakota 'notoriously bad at thinking about things' cole would be a thinker but u gotta trust the process ok??

vyncent-- trump!!!! somehow this is the only straightforward one to me? he can copy powers at the full strength or ability level of the original for an unspecified amount of time that's usually 1-30 minutes by touching the cape. crucially, he doesn't have any edge on how to use these powers + can easily misuse or become extremely overwhelmed by them. he's easily the most powerful out of the three of them <33

ashe-- ashe is NOT HERE currently and also it's 1:30 am so i gotta go fucking sleep soon BUT they would be a master. easy. :o) they can make some lil guys n do stuff with them!!!!

in general these are pretty fucking cracked abilities, all of them would b oosely above a seven or so in a number rating once they're really settled in their powers-- this is mostly because i'm assuming that they would still be heirs-apparent to the prime force equivalent, which would b the triumvirate :]] anyway. good lord. this is like the cliff notes edition of what i've been thinking and scribbling in the notes app for the past several hours. sorry if it's fucking incomprehensible. gn!!! <333

AAAAAH FUCK YESSSSSS OKAY OKAY OKAY my response is probably going to be equally as long. so it's fine. oooouh buddy.

I KNOW WHAT BREAKER MEANS NOW !!! I dontttt think ive learned shaker yet. breaker is like.... breaking the laws of physics/shifting planes or whatever. PERFECT for william hell yes. for putting them actually in worm world ... ughhhh breaker/master william is REALLY cool. I havwnt learned stranger yet but i think he would develop a complex over being classified as stranger <3 (like how weld doesn't like that he's classified as a brute even though that's not exactly what it means, he just doesn't like the word) . GODDDD just thinking abt putting pd boys in worm is fucking me up haven't they been through enough. I want to see them all in a fit of despair. william ditching his body is SO good I miss when he would do that, also the powers being limited by how far away he is AND THE AMOUNT OF RECENT DEATH IN THE AREA. holy shit. that's so fucking good . im sure he would not overthink at all the fact that he is stronger when more people around him have died . I'm sure he'd do awesome in the leviathan fight for sure for sure .

DAKOTA BRUTE <3 DAKOTA BRUTE/MOVER I LOVE THIS A LOTTTTTT hellbyes. awesome. it's so perfect for him <3 worm world I'm SURPRISED u didn't stick with brute for him. eyes emoji. I trust your judgement but now i am Thinking... Hmm..... YOU BRING INTO QUESTION something I have been thinking about. and I'm going to probably get derailed a little here but stay with me. how the way powers manifest directly relate to the trigger event. because for a WHILE before we learned taylors I was like "OH i bet the powers are going to be directly related to what traumatic thing happened to them" and then we learn about taylor and grue and a couple more and I kind of lost that theory because while you can. technically draw relations between their powers and their events it seemed like too much of a stretch to do . HOWEVER now my thinking has changed AGAIN and I think the powers ARE related to specific trigger events but it's not as straightforward as "oh something scary happened to you with bugs so now you have bug powers" I think it's gonna be more complicated than that. WHICH. THE WAY THIS RELATES. BACK ON TOPIC NOW. to DAKOTA . assuming his trigger event is still he and katori falling off the building I think it's AWESOME that his powers would manifest as FLIGHT for one. and the fucking. pain sense thing. fuck me up. dakota extreme hero complex cole would be so fucked up by a power where he ambiently senses pain from the people around him at all times and cannot turn it off. I'm sure he would feel so normal about being around william chronic pain wisp 24/7. also I can SO CLEARLY imagine how this power specifically would lead to him getting super overwhelmed in chaotic situations like he does in canon. and just fucking. bolt out of there because it's too much. again. he'd have such a wonderful time in the leviathan fight

I AM AT CLOCKBLOCKER POV !!!! actually technically I'm on kid win pov now but I haven't finished his chapter yet. vyncent grab bag cape..... yeah... I think it would be EXTREMELY funny imagining the PRT in pd world trying 2 classify vyncent like. what the fuck does this kid do . what do we do with him. hes got other guys in his head that give him powers. is he a master??? no he can't fucking control them. is he a striker??? only SOMETIMES. is he a blaster?? AGAIN ONLY SOMETIMES. cannot classify him bitch!!!!!!!! giving him worm powers though.. UGH. being able to touch someone and COMPLETELY copy their powers but only for a short period of time???? I fucking love that a lot. he WOULD be the most powerful out of them!!! I can hear taylors inner analysis dialogue about him now and it's very similar to the clockblocker "DONT LET HIM.TOUCH YOU" panic. loooove imagining this playing off of the rest of pd,,, i know there was AT LEAST one time where he had william sort of transfer some of his ghost powers for a minute? I think it was during the lich fight in the theatre but i just remember vycnent floating and going intangible and NOT KNOWING how to control it or anything. loveeee that. in world dynamics I feel like vyncent would be a late addition to their team (instead of coming from another world maybe he just. had his trigger event happen way later than the other two..or something.) and not trusting them as much at first/being REALLY shaky using either of their powers but after a while being really comfortable in a fight with using either Williams or dakotas powers in a fight. Just like. imagining the fluidity of how they'd work together in a tense situation assuming they're not being complete dumbasses <3333 UGH it's really good

AAAASHE ASHE ASHE IM SOOO SO GLAD YOU INCLUDED ASHE IN THIS I miss him.so much every day. from what I know so far master involves having/making/controlling some sort of minion (cannot think of a better word than that rn) AND I THINK THATS REALLYYYY perfect for ashe. i assume he would actually work pretty closely to canon in that his limitation would be the book? or if he doesn't have the book maybe his limitation would be a) having only a few different types of things he could summon (the big hand, the water fairy, duck etc) and/or b) only being able to control them.for a short amount of time after they're summoned so he has to be quick about dismissing them. can't keep the demon hand around for too long or it might start picking things up and throwing them at random. putting teammates in danger bc he can't control it anymore etc etc. alsooooooo in clockblocker pov they VERY briefly mentioned the possibility of having secondary trigger events (?!!!!?!?!) and you know I locked onto that SO FUCKING HARD. ashe being born with powers and then his secondary trigger event being his mom's death <3 im.NOT even going to attempt to talk about how the trickster would work in worm world/if it would even exist in this setting bc i don't know enough about the types of powers and things yet..but just know. I am keeping this in the back of my mind "this is a fun surprise tool that will help us later" style

#also side note but can i say. thw whole time i was reading the leviathan fight a persistent thought in the back of my mind was #“man i really wish they had a cape here who could control water- THEY NEED TIDE... THEY NEED TIDE SO BAD”#so like..really normal about putting prime defenders SPECIFICALLY in the leviathan fight. teehee (<< most diabolical laugh youve ever heard #I HAVE A LOT MORE THOUGHTS ABOUT WILLIAM TOO BUT..HMMMMMMMMM DONT THINK I CAN SAY SOME OD THEM YET #EXTREMELY interested 2 see whether ur thoughts on specifically him and dakota #will change after both the training arc and certain other events <3 #hehehehehehehee #GOD I CANNOT STOP IMAGINING. PD IN WORM.WORLD. they would suffer so fucking badly man.#william wisp guilt complex about his powers turned up to 200 #HAVING A LOT OF THOUGHTS ABOUT ASHE ALSOOOOO . AS ALWAYS #now that i know more abt power classes i am VERY confidently going to put mark down as a tinker/striker.#with the tinker rating being SLIGHTLY higher than striker bc he uses the things he makes to amplify his naturally weaker striker powers.#tiiiiiide im thinkingggg would be. whats the elemental one.#not breaker bc thats specifically about breaking physics and i dont think that works for him.#is it shaker?????? i dknt think ive learned shaker yet.#U ARE MORE EQUIPPED AT THIS THAN ME whats tide. tide would also for sure be a case 53 right. i havent exactly learned what that means yet #but im assuming its the whole artifically giving people powers thing and. thats tide baby. idk if clones would work in worm world #so maybe its him and his regular siblings all being specifically given elemental powers #so they could work together as some super crazy powerful team. and then. that Doesnt happen <3 #(idk if u have listened to the tide oneshot yet but. its good. if you ignore dodgeboy)#ANYWAY. i should start getting ready for work now. im having so many thoughts about this norlw #hollyyyyyy shit #infected my brain with worms (pun intended)#asks #friends!!!#intertexts #wormposting #jrwi pd #<< only tagging so i can find this later when i learn more and can properly yell about it #new haven wards

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the-acid-pear · 1 year ago

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A good chunk of my dream today was spent on a bus traveling with my dad where after a very long while of being annoyed by an old woman an old classmate whose face and voice i remember but his name i don't encouraged me to tell her, and tell her i did. At first i started speaking formally but by the end I snapped and i was straight up screaming about how she's annoying and i hate to see her face every time i get on this goddamn bus and it was time someone told her these things. There wasn't a reaction from anyone because i was waking up tho so the dream fell apart before my own eyes.

#luly talks #there were also some moments of claustrophobia probably because my horrible anxiety as of lately #first one was after me and my dad tried to skip paying ticket we were forced to go to the corner behind the bus driver seat #between the machine to pay #and wait until the next stop to do so #second time was after i went to sit on the back because the middle had some weird long seats #there was a very weird guy next to me but i was ignoring him until between him and some other guy (it wasnt intentional they weren't trying #to hurt me but they were doing it anyway) i got stuck and i was like begging them to move snd let me go and saying i was stuck #as i tried to squiggle away #i got away from that bug fuckin g BITING them #and finally the last was before i finally snapped where someone screamed something and i looked out of the window and i realized the bus #was going underwater so i grabbed onto this classmate and ducked down not even caring about it being weird #but then it cleared like nothing and due to that stress i just snapped at the woman #who let me give more context: when my dad and i tried to skip paying she started talking shit in that old woman fashion #but then she wouldn't stop complaining about this student who had done a graffiti because apparently the bathrooms were trash #and one of the things i told her is ''you can have us from morning til noon making graffitis and cleaning them up but that won't change #that the bathroom is still shit #also i think she wanted to cause some repercussions for me speaking like that bc she was like DONT YOU KNOW WHO I AM? I WORK AT ...#and i was like No i don't i never heard of it im new im from the city but with the most arrogant tone ever #anyway it was fun

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livvyofthelake · 2 years ago

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that was a lie my parents won’t ruin THIS episode by coming home. unfortunately i will probably watch a third episode

#well. ruin is a strong word. i just don’t like how they don’t perceive stuff i like #ignore the second don’t #i’m the baby of the family so everything i like is automatically juvenile and it doesn’t help that i like a lot of things that are juvenile #but like no one in this house can conceptualize ‘family’ media. like if there’s no curse words or sex it’s just For Kids #like get serious y’all just watched harry potter with my sister and no one has ever acted like she’s childish for liking that shit #like i KNOW it’s just because of misogyny 85% of the time because especially in the fantasy genre girl’s stories are seen as more childish #simply due to being about and being written for girls. where boys stories get to be gender neutral because they’re the default #and then because i’m me and 80% of everything i enjoy is about women. the other 20% doesn’t make enough of an impression to not be lumped in #so even though THIS show isn’t about women it’s still something I’M watching and it’s fantasy and it doesn’t have curse words or sex so by #default it’s girly and childish. and that sucks already but sucks even worse because now my family is gonna go about their lives thinking #that bbc merlin is girl stuff. and therefore even remotely feminist. which makes me want to kill myself because i’ve never heard something #less true in my life. like YES i am the annoying girly feminist girl’s girl of this family YES i watch bbc merlin NO that show is not that!!#anyway. that’s annoying. i love how it’s only not stupid to like something in the fantasy genre when it’s harry potter or game of thrones.#like that’s awesome.#we should all kill ourselves. but before that we should publicly execute jk rowling and george rr martin #like i firmly believe jkr should be killed but not for the terf stuff just because she made up the most annoying franchise ever.#beth.txt

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logansbaby · 1 month ago

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GUILTY AS SIN - Logan Howlett

❥ summary: the entire time you’ve known logan howlett, you’ve tried to keep your longings locked. then, one night, all that effort goes to waste when you’re confronted about your feelings.

word count: 8.5k (IM SORRY!!!!)

pairings: logan howlett x fem! mutant reader

content warnings: 18+ CONTENT MDNI, masturbation, dirty thoughts, light choking, multiple orgasms, oral (reader and logan receiving), spitting, sixty-nining, scent kink, like one spank, underwear stays ON, slight hint of arousal from crying?, creampie, p in v (practice safe sex ty!)

❥ a/n: guys…… am i…. a whore? (yes) do i need to be locked up? (also yes). i started this when i was on my period so maybe that’s the reason this is so filthy? anyway i don’t know how it got to 8k of smut but it DID and i have nothing to say about that… also reader has a mutation it’s not super in depth but her hair changes to red in certain situations and she has red light/energy she manifest in her hands, kind of confusing but it’s okay. anyway please please enjoy and let me know your thoughts <3

— ˚｡⋆⟡♡⟡⋆｡˚

‘I keep recalling things we never did

Messy top lip kiss

How I long for our trysts

Without ever touching his skin

How can I be guilty as sin?’

Guilty as Sin? - Taylor Swift

— ˚｡⋆⟡♡⟡⋆｡˚

THE SHEETS are chilled, crisp to the touch, cold enough that shivers tickle their way across exposed skin. A sigh is heard, loud enough for wandering ears as a figure moves about in the unmade, blanket muddled bed. The window had been left open, and as a result, cold air had poured into the room.

Despite the fact that goosebumps adorn your body, it felt as though you were on fire. Huffs escaped parted lips, a charged hum zipping through your veins that only intensified each time you moved. You’d been trying to sleep for the past couple hours, trying to ignore the need thrumming through you, but had only managed to fail.

You turn on your side for possibly the twentieth time, but the position only worsens your state as the flesh of your thighs squeeze unintentionally, a wave of brief relief sent to your throbbing core. Tears brim your lashes, damp with frustration because fuck, your body was humming with lust and everything was so, so sensitive.

This was all Logan’s fault.

The man has been gone less than a week and yet, your body was practically vibrating with need, trembling with desire.

The feelings you harbor make you feel shameful and guilty for a handful of reasons.

Logan was not your boyfriend; he wasn’t even a friend. While he was cordial with the others in the mansion, he remained cold and indifferent toward you.

You pretended it never bothered you when he pointedly ignored your greetings in passing or refused to partner up with you. You didn’t understand what you’d done to upset him, to warrant his treatment of you as if you were the most annoying person on the planet. More often than not, you are the subject of the man’s pointed glare.

So, logically, your heart shouldn’t race at the mere thought of him. Nor should desire pool between your thighs whenever images of his sweaty form cloud your mind.

By definition, you were immensely smart; a genius with how you could understand what others could not.

Though, you were only human and Logan fucking Howlett was a man worth embarrassing yourself over, especially when he looked like he did.

He wasn’t, your mind huffed.

He was, your heart retorted.

A memory comes forward, one that has your cheeks blushing, your chest rising a little faster than before.

A couple weeks ago, you’d been up late, struggling to sleep and with the way it evaded you, wandering the halls had been your solution, in hopes of tiring yourself out.

But when you had walked down your hallway, you froze at the sight of a shirtless Logan in his room, the door left ajar.

A towel covered his head as he scrubbed away the wetness in his hair, and you desperately hoped he hadn’t noticed your presence. Water dribbled down his muscular body, and your eyes greedily watched each droplet descend down, glistening against the tan stomach you wanted to bite. What really had you drooling, however, was the thick, prominent vein that crept down into the waistband of his gray sweatpants. Said pants had your eyes wide with the prominent bulge tented in the material.

When you just barely caught yourself from moaning, you had dashed back to your room right away. You were wide awake still, but for a completely different reason. All you could think about was tracing your tongue along that vein.

If you’d fucked yourself that night to the thought of him and his glistening torso, no one had to know.

So theoretically, if you gave in to your cravings, it wouldn’t be the first time, but it certainly wouldn’t make you feel any less guilty.

Scarlett hues dust your cheekbones, lips bitten until they’re swollen and shiny with spit. Your breasts ache from inside the confines of the pink, lacy shirt, made worse with each labored breath you inhale as perky nipples brush the material. Your hole feels incredibly empty, the need to be filled overpowering. Your clit, puffy and neglected, throbs with pure, searing need.

Another wave of aching pleasure from your wetness breaks your resolve— a shaky hand slipping from its place on your stomach down, down, down until cold fingers meet the mess between your thighs.

A gasp sounds, melodic as it swirls with heavy breathes, fluttering around the room as you brush over your clit. Even through the material of your underwear, the slight pressure of your fingers made you mewl.

Flashes of Logan dance behind closed lids, your imagination running wild while you messily swirl over your bundle of nerves.

You wanted him so, so bad, in every way possible, it actually hurt, both your heart and core.

Your mind submerges your consciousness with thoughts of him; his pretty hazel eyes, the slope of his nose, the tufts of his brown hair. The muscles that were constantly on display, his thick thighs that you wanted to ride until you came all over him, and the huge bulge that was ever present in those flattering jeans of his (and if it was a reoccurring fantasy of yours to ride that delicious bulge over his jeans until you both came from just dry humping, again— no one had to know).

Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t stop thinking about Logan.

Him hovering over you, dog tags swinging in your face as he fucked you hard. Him picking you up and taking you against the nearest surface, lips trapped in an erotic kiss. Him prying your thighs open as he licked up your pussy, tongue dipping into your hole to lap up all the desire pooling, his lips wrapping around the swollen bud and sucking violently. Him holding your face lovingly as his hips thrusted his cock deeper into your throat, groans spilling at the gag you’d let out.

You were split between wanting to sink down onto his cock and rut your swollen nub against the curls that nestled the base of him and stuffing his dick down your throat, gagging around him until he came and coated your throat with his spend.

You didn’t even bother to remove the damp underwear, instead circling the engorged bud over the material— and oh, fuck. The roughness of the lace mixed with the delicious rubbing of your fingers send little moans tumbling from parted lips.

Your unoccupied hand slips under the shirt covering your chest and only settle once your nipple is pinched between determined fingers, rolling the pert bud in tandem with the amorous touch of your hand on your sex.

Pleasure nips at your pelvis, and if you were a little more aware, you’d be embarrassed at how fast you to reaching your peak. But, as it is, your brain is completely hazy with wanton thinking and the only thing on your mind was lessening the ache that pulsates deep within you.

And fuck, you’re so fucking needy for logan that you try to pretend it’s his fingers abusing your clit, his fingers tugging at the sensitive buds of your chest. You want his tongue between your thighs, licking up your desire and sucking your puffy bud into his pretty mouth.

Chest rising rapidly, you feel overwhelmed at the fantasies swirling before your eyes. Its far too much— the mix of your filthy desires and your fingers rubbing your nub have your legs quivering as wetness coats your hand.

“Logan, Logan, Logan—“ The chant of his name mindlessly falls from you, the feeling of your orgasm washing over you, threatening to pull you under those soaring, unforgiving waves of pleasure.

Eyes snap shut, ears ring with white noise, and your hips hump your hand pitifully— you were an absolute, writhing mess against the sheets.

The hair messily strewn around your pillow shifts then from its natural state to a dark red. Even with your eyes shut, you could feel the vermillion light whirling at your fingertips, begging to be released.

Your mutation was not one of subtlety.

Searing bliss coils in your lower tummy, your button tingling with the after effects of the orgasm that crashed into you. You sigh, because even though you just came, you felt far from satisfied. Your body buzzes with sweltering hunger, all the way from the top of your head down to the tips of your toes. Even if you fuck yourself dizzy with another orgasm, you knew it won’t satiate your body. Not completely, anyway.

Before you could slip your fingers inside your weeping hole, a loud knock echos through your room.

You still; desperate and hoping that if you ignored the noise, whoever was knocking would simply go away. But when another rhythmic thump comes a few seconds later, you huff.

It’s well past midnight at this point, so who in their right mind would be going about and slamming their fists on your door?

Apparently, you arent moving fast enough when the person has the nerve to knock for a third time, hand a little heavier than before. A growl, tinged with annoyance, slips out as you fling yourself up and off the bed.

You stomp to the door, ready to tell the person on the other side to fuck off.

But when you actually swing open the mahogany door, all the anger simmering beneath your heated skin disappears, along with your breath, as your eyes take in the sight before you.

Logan Howlett stands before you, seemingly angry as a frown etches deep on his face. He glares at you, hazel eyes swarming with exasperation and something unknown.

And little did you know, all of your craziest, fatal fantasies were about to come true.

❥

The moment Logan steps into the mansion, finally back from the complete shit show of a mission Charles had sent him on, he tenses instantly.

His fingers clench into fists, tight enough that the skin turns white. The adamantium claws threaten to poke through his knuckles as he inhales deeply.

Big mistake.

That sweet, sweet scent swarms his heightened senses, the intoxicating smell nearly making him dizzy. His heart speeds up, his stomach flutters, and his cock twitches in the confines of his jeans.

Logan could fucking smell you.

It’s a heady aroma thats so completely you, that his body feels deranged, just about ready to march up those steps and break down your door.

He shakes himself loose from the metaphorical shackles of you and begins the journey to his room, trying to block out how delicious and syrupy you smell.

He decides then, as his body finally moves up the steps, that ignoring you is the best option.

But as he gets closer to the hallway he shares with you (just his luck, by the way!), he realizes that plan is a joke.

He feels his control slipping, especially as the heady scent grows stronger, tinged with something else— something erotic and salacious.

Logan curses, his entire being rigid.

You’re aroused, the smell seeping under the crack of the door giving you away instantly.

The idea of you whining as your pussy drips slick between your thighs has him grinding his teeth, fingers flexing and unflexing in an attempt to harness the control back to his body.

Though, it goes out the window entirely as his body is apruptly outside your door, unconsciously drawn to the very essence of you.

There’s a reason Logan has kept carefully crafted distance between the two of you.

The minute he was introduced to you, a new member of the x-men and teacher for the school, he knew he was fucked.

From the first look shared between you, he knew.

A pretty smile had graced your lips, eyes filled with joy as you greeted him, a hand outstretched in his direction as your hair swayed with your movements. In your cute, little outfit (a pretty, white lace dress that kissed the tops of your thighs, matched with baby pink pumps that accentuated your legs), he thought you looked like a princess.

He had stayed frozen, however, because he was assaulted with the fucking smell of you. It was nothing like he’d encountered before, and he’d been around for over a century.

Your scent was so fucking sweet, vanilla and honey permeated his nostrils and right in that moment, he wondered if you tasted as sweet as you smelt.

He knew that he had to keep his distance, otherwise he’d become addicted to you in every sense. If he let himself, he’d worship the very ground you walked on. He couldn’t risk having the walls he’d spent so long building to crumble.

And in an instant, he was angry that his body had reacted this way to someone he’d never even met. He was angry he wanted to press sweet kisses on your face while simultaneously wanting to fuck you on his cock until you screamed his name.

So, with that, he’d made up his mind.

He had simply glared at you, refused to acknowledge your existence and stormed out of Charles’ office. And since that day, he’s tried his hardest to pretend you didn’t exist— if only to ease the way you constantly haunted his every thought.

He pretended it didn’t kill him to see how your face would crumble at his rude behavior, at how he avoided you at all costs. He couldn’t help it, though, because if he treated you how he wanted, like the princess you were, he’d never let you go.

A sudden noise shakes him from the depths of his mind, that carnal, sensual essence growing stronger by the second.

“Logan, Logan, Logan,” your honeyed voice whines, all airy and light.

And it’s almost comical how the telltale snikt! sounds immediately after because what?

What the fuck? He thinks, mind utterly destroyed at the revelation that not only were you seemingly fucking yourself, but you were moaning his name.

Logan growls, low and dangerous as his claws reveal themselves, cutting through the skin of his knuckles. His body feels unnaturally hot, practically set on fire. His cock now uncomfortably hard in his jeans, lustful essence bubbling at his tip and no doubt staining his boxers.

With the wafts of your pretty aroma and sounds of your lewd whimpers, he knows he can’t resist you any longer.

His hand lifts, claws retracting as his heavy fist slams on your door.

And the sight of you, face shiny with a sheen of sweat has him choking on his own saliva.

Tonight was the night his control finally snaps, despite months of work put into avoiding you.

Logan knows his animalistic side is about to be released; he’s going to fucking ruin you.

❥

You gulp, a hand resting on the door frame as you stand frozen because honestly, what the fuck?

You deduce that the universe hates you because why? Why would the man you’d been thinking of while masturbating be right in front of you?

It only dawns on you when Logan’s gaze swipes over your figure that you’re basically naked. Clad only in your blushed, frilly top and the matching underwear, the latter soaked with both your arousal and release.

You shrink beneath his eyes, warmth simmering hot on the apples of your cheeks, and your mouth opens and closes, yet no words follow.

“Uh— Logan, hey!” Your voice is shaky, and whether it’s from the power of your release or the nerves that bumble beneath your skin at the man before you, you couldn’t tell. All you know is that you want the ground to swallow you up whole.

Logan doesn’t respond, just continues to stare at you in a way that you don’t understand. You assume he’s just gotten home from the very long mission, and confusion settles over you as to why he was at your door, especially considering how he badly despises you.

You’re about to voice that exact thought when Logan beats you to speaking.

“I heard you.” His gruff tone is coated in something darker than you’d ever heard before.

For a moment, you’re perplexed, brows furrowing and raising before your eyes go comically wide.

And— oh, oh.

“Can smell you, too.”

Heat licks at your whole body, embarrassment threatening to envelope you entirely. Tears of horror tickle your lash line, because this was probably the most painful moment of your life. Not only does the man hate you, but now he’s heard you moan his name as you came all over your fingers? How pathetic are you?

You open your mouth, an apology heavy on your tongue. You need to say something to quell the panic flooding your body— you’re never going to get over this

Though, before you can even speak, Logan slams his mouth onto yours.

He holds your head softly, a deep contrast to the way his lips melt over yours. A moan slips from your open mouth, the feel of his lips sucking at your bottom lip feels immensely intense and so, so good.

Your arms wrap around his neck, fingertips tangling themselves in the hair at his nape like you’ve wanted to do since the very day you met him.

“Logan—“ you whimper against his mouth, trying and failing to understand what the fuck was happening as he slips his tongue inside your wet, warm mouth. “Logan.”

He ignores you, grunting against your spit, slick lips as his hands travel down your curves, until they find purchase on your ass, gripping hard. A choked gasp spills from you as he suddenly paws at you, picking you up effortlessly in his strong arms.

The idea of him holding you up with no hesitation has your hips shuddering forward without your permission. Vaguely, you feel him move past the threshold of your door, slamming it shut before pressing your body up against the wood.

Logan switches between licking your tongue and sucking meanly at your lips, until they feel full and swollen with his attention. You’re pliant— almost willing to let him do anything he’d like to you.

Almost.

As good as his tongue feels dancing with yours, confusion still settles over your mind. Perhaps this was a dream and if that’s the case, you never want to wake up.

“Wait—wait.” You pull back, the questions swirling inside probing you until it’s impossible to ignore.

“Huh, baby?” Logan groans, teeth pulling at your bottom lip before sucking at the swollen skin.

Babybabybabybabybaby— the pet name clouds your senses for a second, a rush of arousal pooling at your hole. You want to cry at how that simple, simple word makes you feel.

“Stop that.” You mumble, pulling your head back and lips out of his reach.

Logan stares at you, silent but waiting as he waits for you say whatever is on your mind. Frankly, he wants his tongue to be buried deep in your cunt right about now, but, details.

“What is going on?” Breathless, the question settles between you, causing Logan’s brow to raise.

“Well, my tongue was just in your mouth—“ you slap his chest, face turning warm at his bluntness.

“Not that. I’m— why are you here? Why are you kissing me when you can’t stand me?” Your voice is quiet, insecurity present in your tone. Nimble fingers grasp the dog tags that rest on his chest, and you’ve never been grateful for it.

At that, Logan’s face scrunches up, confusion floating around his irises, lips curving downward.

“What are you talking about?” If it wasn’t for the genuineness in his voice, you would’ve smacked his chest again at how clueless he was.

“What do you mean? You’ve made it very clear how you feel about me; you’ve despised my entire existence the moment we met— wait, I can’t even say that because you didn’t even have the decency to greet me!”

Frustration hovers over you heavily, enough to snap you out of the lustful spell Logan often inflicts upon you. You slide down his body, ignoring the quiver of your cunt when you make contact with his jean clad bulge. You push at his chest, needing distance to ensure you actually get your words out and don’t end up back with his tongue down your throat.

“I don’t hate you.” Logan grunts out, staring at you as you pace the wooden floors of the room. Vaguely, he’s paying attention, but he can’t be blamed for the way his eyes focus on the way your ass shifts with each step, the plush skin so inviting as the lace cup each cheek. “What’re you on about?”

Frankly, Logan’s pissing you off. The vague answers are getting on your nerves, enough that you feel yourself snap.

Your hair swiftly turns bright red, a scarlet blossoming over the strands until they coat them completely. Your emotions could never quite be concealed, not with the way your hair would turn different variations of red when you were angry, furious, sad, happy, aroused.

“You’ve been a dick to me, treating me like shit for no reason and now you think you can just waltz in here and kiss me like that? You think you can pretend to want me when we both know that’s not true?”

Balls of fiery, red energy bloom at your fingertips, and though you stand in your pretty pink assortment, you look the part of threatening.

It’s too bad the abrupt display of your mutation, mixed with fiery words, has Logan’s cock jerking with want.

“Sometimes, I question whether or not you’re actually a genius.”

And just like that, you feel the words like a punch to the gut. You’re so mad, so blind by the intense emotions you feel for Logan, that you feel those pesky flames of energy moving up your wrist and forearm, a telltale sign of your anger.

“Fuck you, Logan.” You hiss, your fingers hot with the heat coursing through them.

What pisses you off more, to which your hair and eyes darken to a dangerous maroon, is the fact that Logan wears a faint smirk, watching you with humor as if you aren’t showcasing how pissed you are.

“Are you done yet?” Logan takes a step closer, uncaring of the way your mutation flares furiously at his presence.

“Logan, leave me alone. I don’t need you to sit here and pretend to want me. I don’t need you to make fun of me, either.” Huffing, you glare up at the man before you, who stares back just as pointedly.

You turn around, back facing him as you go to enter the attached bathroom when all at once, you’re spun back around by a hand on your nape, your neck in a delicious tight grip as Logan pulls you into his body, smashing his mouth on yours for the second time tonight.

Your body betrays you, a desperate whimper ebbs out at how fucking good Logan’s lips feel on yours.

His teeth bite down on your top lip, before suckling sweetly to combat the pain flourishing there. You moan, mouth falling open as he messily kisses you. The intoxicating taste of him swarms your tastebuds, his tongue swirling with yours in a way that leaves you dizzy with need.

A string of spit connects between your mouths as Logan pulls away, chuckling meanly when you promptly follow the warm wetness of his lips. A rough hand grips your throat again, tight enough to leave you feeling breathless but delicious enough to make your cunt squeeze around nothing.

“So that’s what you think, princess? That I don’t want you?” Logan’s fingers flex around your throat, gripping at your jaw to capture all of your attention. As if you were anything but than enamored with him. “You think that’s what I’ve been doing, huh?”

You can only stare up at him as your heartbeat rings loudly through your eardrums. A hand goes to tug at his shirt, an attempt to steady yourself, but Logan’s faster as he grabs your wrist.

“Answer me.” He whispers hotly as the hand holding yours captive moves to intertwine your fingers.

The touch of him, the hold on your throat and roughness of his fingers in yours, renders you speechless. You’re so overcome with your emotions that you can only manage to nod. The weight of you goes limp in his hold, silently begging him to do something to satiate the hunger burning every inch of you.

“Words, baby. Got nothing to say now, huh?” He taunts, his grip leaving your neck in favor of thumbing at your lips.

“Yes— I, it’s what it’s seemed like, what you’ve made me feel. Thought you hated me.”

Logan’s nose twitches, no doubt smelling your arousal as it leaks into the material covering you, ruining the lace.

“Couldn’t be more wrong,” He groans, pushing his thumb past the soft of your lips. His knees nearly buckle at the feel of your mouth closing and sucking his thumb, tongue rolling up against the skin as though it was his cock instead. “Shit, baby.”

You whine around his finger, eyes fluttering up at him in a way that has his dick aching for you.

“Fuck, been dreaming about you since the day we met. Been dreaming of you in every way possible.” He admits, a smile tugging at his lips at the way you freeze, lips leaving his thumb with a ‘pop’.

“What?” It’s a whisper, barely audible but he heard it all the same. The butterflies in your stomach are now having a complete rager, bolts of anxiousness kissing your skin.

“Of course.” Logan leanes down, pressing a kiss to your wet lips. “Knew the second I saw you you’d ruin me, so I just… stayed away. I never meant to make you think the worst. M’sorry, honey.”

This was not the way you’d expected tonight to go.

It’s as though all the confusion, anger, and sadness drain from you and, in its place,its full of the tremulous feeling of the admission.

And despite the fact that you’d fucked yourself thinking about him, and he’d heard, you feel incredibly shy. You drop your head to his hard chest, your hands squeezing his own where he holds them.

“I don’t know what to say.” You utter, brain all muddled and no other thoughts come forth as Logan haunts every inch of your mind. You feel like an idiot, even though Logan had acted like a dick for the better part you’d known him.

Logan simply lifts your head, invading your senses as his nose bumps yours.

“You were a dick.” It’s spoken factually, making him huff against your face.

“I know.”

“You could’ve kissed me months ago.”

“Can I kiss you now?”

His quick reply leaves you flushing, but when you nod, his lips are back on yours instantly, in their rightful place.

The kiss is messy; hot, wet, and dirty. Logan groans when you jump up, strong arms catching your thighs in a tight grip. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you lose yourself in the thrilling taste of his mouth. You unconsciously start humping him, dragging your drenched panties across his hard dick.

You suck on his tongue before capturing his lip between your teeth, nails dragging down his shoulder blades. A loud, feral growl escapes Logan, and without another thought, he throws your pliant body on the bed.

And at the sight of you, Logan feels like he’s about to come right then and there. In your skimpy outfit, so much plush, soft skin is on display. The hair tumbling from your shoulders has turned a dark cherry color during your kiss, and your hands are tickled with red energy that’s twirling up your arms, not unlike the way vines thread onto an old home.

This time, though, he knows you’re not upset, but instead, aroused.

He can smell the way your slick seeps from your fluttering hole, how it sticks to the skin of your thighs.

And fuck, he wants to sink his face right in front of your pussy and inhale until he’s woozy with the complete perfume of you.

So, that’s exactly what he does.

Your eyes widen as Logan drops onto the floor in front of the bed, yanking your body to the edge. Your lower half is completely in his grip, and he stares at you for a moment, eyes hazy with lust. Then, he’s pulling your pussy all the way up to his nose. The feel of him so close to your puffy lips has you clenching, even more so when he lowers his head and fucking sniffs you.

“Fuck, baby. Been dreaming of this since the minute I saw you. Smells so fuckin’ sweet.” Logan inhales deeply again, smattering messy, open mouthed kisses to the skin of your upper thigh. “You don’t know how many times I’ve wanted to throw you over my shoulder, get you alone and eat this pussy.”

“Logan!” You whimper out. The sound is completely feeble but you couldn’t care less, not with the way he’s sucking bruises into your skin. “Please, please.”

Spurred on by your whines, he sinks his canines into the skin, where your thigh meets the lips of your core.

Pain simmers into pleasure as the sting is followed by his tongue. Rosy splotches decorate your upper thighs, a preview of the bruises that will glaze the skin tomorrow. Logan does this until he’s satisfied with how his teeth imprint the skin. It’s as if it’s his way of solidifying that you’re his, like he’s staking his claim with his bruises smattering your thighs.

At some point your hand finds purchase in his hair, pawing at the tufts and tugging his face closer to where you need him most. He groans, the pain at his scalp sending jolts of desire throughout his body.

He sneaks a look up at you, and shit, you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. Your head is thrown back, sending those rebellious, red strands fluttering around you. Your hips are canting up to his mouth, and the smell of you, mixed with the previous orgasm you’d worked out before he interrupted, sends his senses in overdrive.

He knows he’d tortured you both enough when you can’t stop shivering with need, when his own hips brush against the edge of the bed. Without hesitation, Logan licks a long, wet stripe up your clothed pussy, suctioning around your enlarged clit.

The taste of you, heady, sweet, and so distinctly you, floods his tongue. He knew you’d taste good, but this? Oh, he wanted to drink you up all hours of the day.

With a growl, Logan tuggs the lace aside and loses it. He sucks, licks, and mouthed at your cunt like a man starved. His tongue dips into your hole before licking up and down your slit.

Moans of his name sound around the walls of your room, along with the filthy noise of his lips sucking your swollen button.

You’ve never felt like this before; the way he’s eating you out has your entire body on fire, and if you could see yourself, you’d see how ruby colored lines swirl all around your hands, how your hair practically glows with the intensity of your feelings.

He’d been attracted to you the minute he saw you— but the way you look when your mutation is at work? The way your hair grows shades of intoxicating reds and the way the fiery energy glows from the tips of your fingers to your elbows? Oh, how it fucking wrecks him. He just wants to keep you captive in this bedroom for all of eternity, if only to see you like this all the time.

“Feels so fucking good, fuck.” You’re a blubbering mess, hands tugging Logan’s hair hard, resulting in a moan that vibrates your pussy.

“Mine.” He grunts, and you gasp at the sensation of saliva as he spits directly onto your clit. “My fuckin’ pussy.”

Then, he latches his soft lips around your puffy bud and sucks hard. His dirty words and lucious mouth have your thighs shivering, hips bucking with insatiable need.

Like you’d done when you were alone and thinking about him, whimpers of ‘Logan’ slip past bitten lips as you rut against his face.

“That’s it, baby, say my name. Taste so fuckin’ good.” He humms against the slick, swell of your pussy.

A stream of ‘fuckfuckfuck’ is audible from open lips, forming an ‘o’ as the rush of delicious, hot pleasure pours over you completely.

As you come down, the pleasure fizzles out and overwhelming bursts of overstimulation bubble over you. Logan continues to lap at your wetness, groaning at your taste.

“S’too much, Logan.” Shaky hands grip his brown locks and you try and fail to bring the man away from your throbbing hole. His tongue laps at the taste of you, dipping in as deep as he could to savor every last drop. “Oh, fuck.”

“Taste too fuckin’ sweet, baby. Can’t help it.”

Logan grips tightly at your thighs, cruelly pinching at the flesh as he devours your pretty clit.

He can’t get enough, and seemingly, neither can you, with the way you buck into his warm, slick mouth despite the crushing pleasure. The material of your underwear snaps against you as Logan’s grip loosens, but he still eats you out as though there was no barrier.

His soft lips and dangerous tongue make it difficult to do anything but take the mind-numbing pleasure.

He’s content to stay here; between your gorgeous thighs and ravage your cunt all night, pull orgasms from you until you forget everything except the syllables that make up his name.

Except, the words that come from you have him still against you, his cock jerking and responding immediately to the addictive tilt of your voice.

“Logan— Logan, wanna suck your cock. Please.”

It was as though you were made for him— every inch of you riles him up like no one else has before and he has to take a deep, deep breath to refrain from coming in his jeans like a damn virgin.

With one last lick up your lace covered cunt, his face is suddenly above yours, the sight is lethal. The entirety of his lower face wears your wetness with pride, glistening and gleaming in the lowlight of the room. His eyes look animalistic, the hazel taken over by the black of dilated pupils.

Logan looks at you like he wants to fucking destroy you. You know without a doubt you’d let him.

A sweet kiss is pressed against your lips, a warm caress of his tongue on yours, the musky taste of your pussy causing you to part your thighs further. You whine once more, because you crave the heady taste of his cock; your mouth salivates at the thought of his tip heavy on your tongue.

“Easy, honey. Can smell how bad you want it.”

If you were less intoxicated by lust, you’d be mortified at the knowledge Logan can smell your arousal right now.

“Logan.” Pathetic whimpers and moans against his mouth have him pulling back, gritting his teeth to force himself to get a grip. It doesn’t work, not with the way you’re spread out below him, face pretty with a tiny that vaguely mimics the hue of your top and panties.”Please.”

How is he meant to last when you sound like that? All fucked out from just his tongue alone?

“C’mere’.” Logan mutters, tugging your body all the way up his chest, maneuvering you until your pussy is hovering above his mouth, facing his cock.

Completely fucked out, saliva pools in your mouth at the sight of his bulge, massive even in the confines of jeans.

You’re confused as to why Logan has put you on his chest, but it makes sense when he pulls your thighs down, mouth finding your wet, sopping sex once more.

You cry out, hips jolting at the way his tongue push the fabric away from your puffiness, immediately wrapping around your clit. At the way you were shaking on his face, unmoving besides the subtle thrusts of hips, he stops.

“Lo—“

“Go on then, baby. Suck my cock, just like you wanted.”

And oh, you both feel the slick that follows after those rasped words fill the air.

Only once you undo that damn belt buckle and pull both his jeans and boxers down, just enough to see the way his cock bounced out, wet at the red, swollen tip, does Logan resume licking up your pussy.

Fueled by the return of those talented lips, you lean forward without another thought.

Licking from base to tip, a moan vibrates against his cock as you hum, a taste so distinctly Logan making you feel light and warm. You lick up and down him sloppy, spitting on the tip of him as you slick his dick up, before finally wrapping your lips around him.

“Fuck.” His growl is borderning on feral; his teeth finding purchase on your asscheek and biting, an attempt to ground himself. It only serves to have his hips jump at the feel of you whining on him, sucking him down so fucking good. “Fuck, knew you’d be good with that pretty fuckin’ mouth.”

He’s so focused on the way you’ve started bobbing up and down the length of him, overcome with euphoria at the warmth and wetness as you suck and swirl your tongue, that he’s stopped his attention to your pussy, something he’s only reminded of as you wiggle impatiently over him.

“Sorry, princess, you’re driving me fuckin’ crazy.” He grits out, fingers gripping the flesh of your thighs at the little ‘hmph!’ you let out, pulling off his cock.

Though he can’t see you, he knows there’s a string of spit that spans from your swollen lips to his pulsating cock. He shutters, overwhelmed by you entirely, before burying his face into your weepy cunt.

”Oh! Logan, feels so good!” With a pathetic little whimper, his cock fills your mouth again as you sink down, satisfied with the way his tongue is licking at you.

A blend of moans sound as he wraps his lips around your puffed clit, as you ease his cock into your throat.

Logan’s eating you out in a frenzy, crazed by the tang of you soaking his mouth, chin, and nose. Despite the warmth bubbling in his stomach, he’s determined to make you come on his tongue again.

When thick fingers nudge into your hole unexpectedly, you mewl at the blissful feeling.

Logan’s fingers work steadily inside you in tandem with the way his mouth suckles divinely at your button. You’re an absolute mess— grinding down on his face, riding his digits, gagging as Logan’s hips match the pace of his fingers, grunts vibrating against you as he fucks your throat.

Logan curls his fingers in a way that has you seeing every fucking color of the rainbow. You come, moaning around the base of his cock and rocking back and forth on his fingers and mouth, muffled sobs spilling from your stuffed mouth.

When he feels you shivering on his tongue, overstimulated and sensitive, he pulls away from your center, the soaked fabric of your panties falling back into place once more.

Your mouth is still full of him, lips lazily sucking him down as your body tries to get ahold of the white hot pleasure still coursing through you.

“C’mere, baby.”

It’s a soft whisper against your thigh, but it settles over you, his soothing voice swirling around your shaky body like a warm blanket. Letting his cock fall from your lips, you scramble as fast as your body allows before you find yourself straddling Logan, staring down at the man with cloudy, wet eyes.

And maybe Logan is sick— because the sight of tears spilling over your cheeks has his cock unbelievably hard, a growl threatening to tumble out at the way your pretty, crimson hair spills over your shoulders.

Still, he wants to make sure you’re okay.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Logan watches at the way a small smile graces your features, even as tears continue to glisten your lash line. “You okay?”

“Nothing's wrong, just feel so good.” Your voice is a little hoarse, no doubt from the way his dick was fucking your whiny mouth. Your voice is still the sweetest thing he’s ever heard, those few words going straight to his dick.

Logan feels his own lips tug upwards as you speak. Even though he’s fucked you silly and stolen two orgasms, he tenses with desire as he notes the want dancing in your irises.

“Good.”

“Mhmm.”

There’s a beat of silence, a moment where hungry eyes lock in on one another, sensual energy threatening to burst.

Then, in a flash, lips are locked and tongues whirl together familiarly. It’s a hot, lewd kiss filled to the brim with desire— the passion almost too much with how it lights up every inch of your bodies, a fire threatening to spread.

Neither of you are sure who moved first— but it doesn’t matter because the way Logan’s hand wraps around your hair, creating a makeshift ponytail in a tight grip, steals your attention.

If someone were to see the two of you, they would see how desperate and needy you both were.

You’re kissing Logan’s top lip, biting before soothing the sting with a sweet, soft suck. Your thighs are spread over his own entirely and your position has your cunt settling over his cock nicely. Logan’s free hand grips the skin of your ass tight, guiding as you grind against him, the soaked panties catching on the tip of him with each thrust. The fingers tangled in your hair are unforgiving, tugging harshly as Logan grunts into your open mouth.

You’re both a mess of passion and lust— and your body thrums with the idea of his cock inside you.

“Such a good girl, that’s it. Fuck—“ Logan nearly whines, the feel of your wetness on his bulge has him trapping your lips in another all consuming kiss.

Your hands, lit up with energy, find purchase in his pretty hair, yanking as he kisses you vulgar, because everything is somehow too much and not enough.

“Logan— need you. Need you so bad, baby.”

Logan wants to eat you up entirely— somehow you’re still not satiated, rubbing your slick all over his lap and begging him for more. If he was a better man, he would’ve fucked you already. As it is, he likes it a little too much hearing you beg for him.

“Shhh, you got me, honey. I’m right here.”

“Fuck me, please. Need you inside, Logan.”

There’s tears in your eyes again, ready to spill over if the ache between your thighs isn’t soothed in the next five minutes. You’re clinging to him, hips stuttering because it’s just not enough and you both know it.

“My poor baby.” He sighs, the words somehow a mix of condescending and genuine and it makes you cry out. “So needy, huh?”

“Just for you.” The way you say it, it’s a message you both understand— you need him in every way possible, not just sexually.

He wonders if you know just how badly he needs you, especially now that he’s got a taste of you.

“I’m yours—“ you start, but it’s cut off by the squeak you emit when you’re suddenly flipped over, Logan’s muscular form hovering over you, his dog tags swinging between you.

“You’re mine.” It’s not a question, but a statement and it sends a thrill over you.

“Yours.” You’re nodding, eyes wide and so fucking pretty that it makes Logan squeeze his hands, the metal of his claws threatening to break through the skin.

He pulls his shirt off then, pride filling his chest at the way your eyes glaze over, a lip taken between your teeth as you stare at the vein that leads to his cock, which is pulsing with the promise of release.

He doesn’t comment on your lustful eyes, instead tracing his fingers down your body, until he reaches the hem of your baby pink lace. It doesn’t leave much to the imagination but Logan might break something if he doesn’t see your tits in all their glory.

You get the message, leaning up and slowly pulling the fabric from your chest, your breasts and midsection on full display. If he hadn’t already eaten you out twice, you would’ve moved to cover your taut nipples. Instead, you grip the chain of his necklace and pull him back down with you, sighing when you’re chest to chest.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” He says, pecking your lips once, licking a stripe down your throat. Wetness coats both nipples as his tongue swirls over them. “Do you know how badly I’ve wanted to have you under me?”

You moan, nails digging into his shoulder blades at the fluttery feeling his lips bring, deep enough to elicit blood from his skin. Logan groans, head tipping back as his hips thrust down suddenly, the tip of his cock ramming into your clit.

“Fuck, Logan.” Your hands span the expanse of his back, scratching each time he bumps your button just right. His jeans are still on, resting just below his thighs and something about the way he couldn’t even get up to properly take them off makes you shudder.

He’s rutting against you now, dick rubbing filthy over your panties and it dawns on you then that he hasn’t come yet, too preoccupied with taking care of you.

Determined, you slide one hand onto his asscheek, pushing him further into you, while your other grips his chin, pulling his mouth to yours in a slick, open-mouth kiss.

“C’mon Logan, fuck me, please.”

Logan turns into something animalistic then— flipping you over without warning, caging you between his arms. Your gasp is audible as he yanks your wet lace to the side, before thrusting forward, and fucks his cock into you with one thrust.

“Oh my god, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me—“ the feel of Logan finally inside you had you absolutely fucking drunk on the feel of him.

“Tryin’ to, baby.” He grits, arms flexing beside your head, fingers intertwining with yours as he sinks into you, inch by inch, until you were filled to the brim.

Logan’s body covers yours, lips pressing all over your shoulder blades to soothe the little whines you let out at how fucking full you felt. It’s everything you want and more— you want to memorize the feel of him, every ridge and vein as he bottoms out.

“Baby,” he grunts, fingers flexing with yours as he stays still, for your sake. “So fuckin’ tight, so fuckin’ wet.”

And it was true— despite the fact that he’s huge, he slipped in easily because of the mess you created, a slick mix of your come and desire that seeps from you.

“Logan, fuck me, please.” You ask so sweetly, as if you weren’t impaled by his cock right now.

With that, he slips out of you slowly, before fucking into you hard, deep. Then, he fucking ravishes you— creating a steady, fast paced rhythm and fucking you dumb with his cock.

You’re a whiny mess. Your hair grows darker, hands glittering between his grip each time he slams into you, each time your cunt squeezes around him.

Completely cock drunk, your back arches, ass up and hips slamming back against his with your cheek pressing into the mattress as you sob.

You’re so fucking needy that his own thighs are wet with your desire— he growls at the sight, fucking you even faster.

“You’re mine. Have been since you came here.” Logan growled, releasing your fingers in favor of gripping your hair and pulling you up until you were pressed into his chest. “My fuckin’ girl.”

“Yours!” You cry, tears rolling down your face. Your entire body jolts with pleasure, and you feel like you couldn’t breathe, not with how euphoria threatens to smother you. “M’so close!”

“I know, honey, I know. Can feel you fuckin’ squeezin’ around me.“ Logan moans out, pushing you back down into the mattress and finding purchase on your hips, pulling you back hard. “Gonna come all over me?”

You don’t answer, instead crying out as you feel a sharp flash of pain on your asscheek, Logan’s hand swift and quick. The pain mixes into pleasure when he rubs at the red skin, pressing sweet kisses on your back.

He wishes you could see yourself right now; maybe then you would understand why he was so intoxicated by you.

Your pretty body is bent over, ass up and face in the sheets as whimpers seep out. The lace that drove him crazy is yanked to the side, grazing his cock each time he drove deeper inside you. You’re so beautiful like this, he wants to keep you forever.

Sweet, little ‘uh,uh’s’ fill Logan’s ears as he speeds up, pulling you back up once more against his chest. He wants to be as close as fucking possible, the feel of your skin on his almost searing.

You turn your head back, lips seeking out his own. He kisses you, sucking at your lips as he continues to fuck you vigorously.

The fluttery feeling of your cunt squeezing around him suddenly sends him over the edge— low groans falling in your open mouth as hot, searing spurts of come coat your walls.

Knowing that Logan had lost it, finally giving into the temptation like you’d been doing all night, has you whining as your own orgasm surrounds your entire being.

“Baby—“ Logan thrusts shallowly, riding your orgasms out as long as he could; if he could, he’d never leave this feeling behind. Seemingly, you agreed as your nails dig into his forearms that hold you up, eyes squeezing shut at the overpowering bliss tingling everywhere. “I got you, it’s okay.”

“Logan, fuck!” It comes out as a huff, head against his sweaty neck, body completely limp in his hold.

You’d never been so incredibly sex-dazed in your life. From this moment onward, Logan has ruined you for anyone else.

Though, you hope there isn’t anyone else.

Logan kisses your head before untangling from you; a smirk dancing across his usually gruff features at the little whine let out as he pulls out. He gently rolls you onto your back, laying your head tenderly on the pillows. It was such a stark difference to the rough way he’d fucked you minutes prior, but butterflies flutter around your stomach all the same.

You watch his eyes trail lower, landing on the mess between your thighs.

Logan is mesmerized by the sight; your pussy is destroyed , so wet with his come seeping out of your hole. Mindlessly, he lowers himself until heieye level with your sex. Sans any warning, his fingers are thrusted back inside.

He ignores your hiss in favor of trying to push his come back inside, to keep you full of him. His eyes meet yours, watching as your chest rises as you observe him. There’s a glint in your eye that has his heart stuttering.

“I want to kiss you.” You whisper, soft and a little bashful, as if he didn’t have his fingers inside you. You look too fucking perfect, hair returning to its original color, eyes cloudy with unspoken words, a smile gracing your face.

How could he deny you when you looked like that?

Logan kisses your clit once, enjoying the way you jump before removing his fingers.

With those same digits, he sticks them in his mouth, sucking the flavor of you both and humming. He could hear the way your heart picked up at his actions. He releases them with a loud ‘pop’, before finally coming back to you.

He hovers over you, and like you’d done earlier, soft hands pull at the chain until his lips melt with yours in a soft kiss. Logan pulls back, resting his head on yours, eyes connecting with yours.

“Hi.” You giggle then, nose bumping his in the proximity.

“Hi, baby.” Logan kisses your lips once more, before rolling beside you. You would’ve whined at him if it weren’t for the way he immediately pulls you onto his chest.

With your limbs tangled, a kiss pressed to your forehead, you think this could be heaven and if so, you never wanted to leave.

It was quiet for a moment— the two of you content to listen to one another’s heartbeat, the breaths that fall from lips. Then, you break the silence, because of course you do.

“Logan?”

“Hmm?”

“Just so you know, I’m expecting you to take me out before you get me like this again.” You mutter against his slick chest, where your head rests as you wrap yourself around the man like a koala.

A deep laugh fills the room, chest rumbling because what the fuck?

He’s fucked you, with his mouth and cock, and now you’re laying on him as his come seeps out of you and you’re demanding him to take you out?

He was going to in the first place, but he thinks it’s cute you decided for him.

Logan may be a man that’s been alive for almost two centuries, practically immortal, but it’s completely possible you’ll be the death of him.

˚｡⋆⟡♡⟡⋆｡˚ fin

tags: @strangererotica @cevansbaby-dove @morganyourone @asiancupid

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lilislegacy · 2 months ago

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percy: *intensely watching the news, waiting to hear about something he may have caused*

piper: come on percy, come eat with us. you’ve been sitting there waiting for hours. if something happens, you’ll hear about it eventually. a watched pot never boils

percy, distractedly: yeah and an ignored one boils over

piper: that-

piper, turning to annabeth in confusion: have i been spending too much time with him or is that one of the most logical things i’ve ever heard someone say?

#i love the thought of him shocking people with intelligent comments #BECAUSE HE’S ACTUALLY SUPER SMART AND NOBDODY FUCKING REALIZES IT #i’m sorry for my outburst #but i do love the thought of percy always surprising piper with wise comments #percy jackson #piper mclean #annabeth chase #incorrect quotes #hoo incorrect quotes #pjo #heroes of olympus #percabeth #percy jackson and the olympians #rick riordan #riordanverse

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inkskinned · 2 years ago

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it's been said before and i'm sure said better than i can phrase it. but really, really - if you like making "i'm going to kill myself" jokes, please try switching to being ironically conceited instead.

anytime something goes wrong, say things like "ah well at least i'm beautiful and charming and everyone loves me." when you forget something, try "my big huge brain is so smart and thinking about too many other very big wizardly thoughts you wouldn't even understand." when you're frustrated by one of your symptoms, start talking like you're in My Immortal. "Life has come for me but my eyes are beautiful pools of gorgeous fire and my hair is amazing. I stuck my middle finger up at life and told it to fuck off and it did."

just... try it for a month or two. try saying the most absurdly self-congratulatory shit you can think of.

i know it's tempting to make suicide or self-harm jokes. and for me at least, a decade ago (!) when someone suggested i stop making those kinds of jokes, i was kind of at a loss for what to replace them with. i wanted to make light of these moments, but genuinely (at the time) my first thought really was suicidal ideation. there was a part of me that even felt like ... i was kind of "making light" of that voice. that if i could say i want to die lol, it would help take the sting out of that genuine (albeit passive) desire. like i could turn my illness into a joke.

when i started complimenting myself instead, it felt awkward and stupid. it felt really, really ironic. what i was actually saying was nobody would ever think this stuff about me, that's what makes it so fucking funny.

but. the effect was immediate. first thing i noticed was the people around me. when i dropped a glass and said ah my skin is too beautiful and sleek the glass has swooned and broken for me, other people were suddenly overjoyed to jump in with the joke. rather than making an awkward moment, we'd both start cracking up. ah princess sleek hands, i've heard of you.

i was 19. i hadn't noticed i'd been making others tense when i said i want it all to end. i know now that it's incredibly hard to know how to walk that moment - do you talk to them about your concern? do you potentially make them uncomfortable by asking if they're okay? do you ignore the situation? do you help them pick up the glass, or do they need to do it by themselves? are they genuinely made suicidal over this small moment? and most importantly, how do you - without professional training or supplies - actually help?

most people want to help you pick up the glass in your life, they just have no fucking idea how to do it. they don't want to make anything worse. they don't want to make assumptions about you. they love you, they're scared for you - and being scared makes people kind of freeze up. it's not because they don't love you. it's because they do.

now when something bad happens, my first thought is how can i make a stupid joke about this. it isn't my brain saying you're a dumb fucking bitch. i spend more time laughing. i spend more time being gentle with myself. i spend more time feeling good.

and the thing is - what's kind of funny - is that you'd be surprised by how many people agree with you. the first time i said i'm too pretty to understand that, someone else said to be fair you're the prettiest person in this room. i promise - you really don't know how kindly your friends see you. but they love you for a reason. they sort of reverse-velveteen-rabbit you. your weird and ugly spots fade away and you just become... the love they want to give you.

go love yourself ironically. the worst thing that happens is that you end up tricking your reflection into actually loving you.

#something something toxic relationships notwithstanding #(re: the friends stuff)#most people love you. automatically. for being alive. like people are just MADE that way.#and the reason kms jokes don't always land is bc people fucking love you and are like - ahhh how do i help #let them help you!!!!!!

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sam-moss · 5 months ago

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Heads up, if you presaved the new album on Spotify it *might* add LMB to your Liked Songs. Make sure to Hide it and all of the versions to both prevent that from happening AND to prevent you from streaming it on accident!

please I want to buy the album without supporting the zionists😭😭

(i fear this because the accordian ver has lose my breath concept pics)

#it didn’t happen to me but I’ve heard some reports from moots on twt that this happened to them.#I’ve got my fingers-crossed that if anything it’s only on that one version so they can see just how badly we don’t want it 😭#but best case scenario they are just reusing the same photoshoot which I’ve seen some describe as gross behavior #my first thought was ‘maybe this will connect the photoshoot to this album instead of that song so the memories of the song can be #completely overwritten and we can ignore it ever existed!’ but I read an argument saying ‘no- it’s gross bc they reused a photoshoot JUST #to sell another set of photocards. they could’ve used a unique photoshoot completely unconnected to LMB’ which makes sense.#but also the whole ~multiple album versions and only a couple of different inclusions for each one so you’ll want to buy 100 of every #version to collect them all~ situation is gross and slimy anyway so I figured it was par for the course. still hate it tho.#I saw all this but I bought 2 versions of Golden Hour. I try not to be too intense on collecting or streaming but when it’s a once or twice #*say all this #a year excursion- I’ll splurge. I never really bought merch for ANYONE before last year but now there’s a Barnes and Noble near me #so I thought I’d start participating in the album buying thing. theyre good albums and inclusions Brent.#but if LMB is on this I don’t think I’ll get it. there’s never been a photocard I NEED to have and I can’t imagine it will be on this album.#and since I’m 12 tags down I might as well add that I don’t really care about streaming numbers most of the time- but I want this particular #song’s failure to send a message to JYP. unfortunately it’s not failing bc SEVERAL fans are streaming it out of ignorance/apathy or spite.#seeing people on twt blowing up the MV out of spite in particular really hurt. it was a well organized boycott w/ an easy target and it was #easy to avoid and it had solid purpose behind it- which most boycotts don’t have all those things!!! but sooooo many people supported it #anyway. it was really disheartening. At least tumblr seems to all be on the same page. May was an absolutely nasty time to be a twt Stay.#and now it’s resurging. maybe JYPE will make the right decision- even if it’s for the wrong reason. the effect will be the same.

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autistichalsin · 2 months ago

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In retrospect, four years later, I feel like the Isabel Fall incident was just the biggest ignored cautionary tale modern fandom spaces have ever had. Yes, it wasn't limited to fandom, it was also a professional author/booktok type argument, but it had a lot of crossover.

Stop me if you've heard this one before: a writer, whether fan or pro, publishes a work. If one were to judge a book by its cover, something we are all taught in Kindergarten shouldn't happen but has a way of occurring regardless, one might find that there was something that seemed deeply problematic about this work. Maybe the title or summary alluded to something Wrong happening, or maybe the tags indicated there was problematic kinks or relationships. And that meant the story was Bad. So, a group of people takes to the Twittersphere to inform everyone who will listen why the work, and therefore the author, are Bad. The author, receiving an avalanche of abuse and harassment, deactivates their account, and checks into a mental health facility for monitoring for suicidal ideation. They never return to their writing space, and the harassers get a slap on the wrist (if that- usually they get praise and high-fives all around) and start waiting for their next victim to transgress.

Sounds awful familiar, doesn't it?

Isabel Fall's case, though, was even more extreme for many reasons. See, she made the terrible mistake of using a transphobic meme as the genesis to actually explore issues of gender identity.

More specifically, she used the phrase "I sexually identify as an attack helicopter" to examine how marginalized identities, when they become more accepted, become nothing more than a tool for the military-industrial complex to rebrand itself as a more personable and inclusive atrocity; a chance to pursue praise for bombing brown children while being progressive, because queer people, too, can help blow up brown children now! It also contained an examination of identity and how queerness is intrinsic to a person, etc.

But... well, if harassers ever bothered to read the things they critique, we wouldn't be here, would we? So instead, they called Isabel a transphobic monster for the title alone, even starting a misinformation campaign to claim she was, in fact, a cis male nazi using a fake identity to psyop the queer community.

A few days later, after days of horrific abuse and harassment, Isabel requested that Clarkesworld magazine pull the story. She checked in to a psych ward with suicidal thoughts. That wasn't all, though; the harassment was so bad that she was forced to out herself as trans to defend against the claims.

Only... we know this type of person, the fandom harassers, don't we? You know where this is going. Outing herself did nothing to stop the harassment. No one was willing to read the book, much less examine how her sexuality and gender might have influenced her when writing it.

So some time later, Isabel deleted her social media. She is still alive, but "Isabel Fall" is not- because the harassment was so bad that Isabel detransitioned/closeted herself, too traumatized to continue living her authentic life.

Supposed trans allies were so outraged at a fictional portrayal of transness, written by a trans woman, that they harassed a real life trans woman into detransitioning.

It's heartbreakingly familiar, isn't it? Many of us in fandom communities have been in Isabel's shoes, even if the outcome wasn't so extreme (or in some cases, when it truly was). Most especially, many of us, as marginalized writers speaking from our own experiences in some way, have found that others did not enjoy our framework for examining these things, and hurt us, members of those identities, in defense of "the community" as a nebulous undefined entity.

There's a quote that was posted in a news writeup about the whole saga that was published a year after the fact. The quote is:

The delineation between paranoid and reparative readings originated in 1995, with influential critic Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick. A paranoid reading focuses on what’s wrong or problematic about a work of art. A reparative reading seeks out what might be nourishing or healing in a work of art, even if the work is flawed. Importantly, a reparative reading also tends to consider what might be nourishing or healing in a work of art for someone who isn’t the reader. This kind of nuance gets completely worn away on Twitter, home of paranoid readings. “[You might tweet], ‘Well, they didn’t discuss X, Y, or Z, so that’s bad!’ Or, ‘They didn’t’ — in this case — ‘discuss transness in a way that felt like what I feel about transness, therefore it is bad.’ That flattens everything into this very individual, very hostile way of reading,” Mandelo says. “Part of reparative reading is trying to think about how a story cannot do everything. Nothing can do everything. If you’re reading every text, fiction, or criticism looking for it to tick a bunch of boxes — like if it represents X, Y, and Z appropriately to my definitions of appropriate, and if it’s missing any of those things, it’s not good — you’re not really seeing the close focus that it has on something else.”

A paranoid reading describes perfectly what fandom culture has become in the modern times. It is why "proship", once simply a word for common sense "don't engage with what you don't like, and don't harass people who create it either" philosophies, has become the boogeyman of fandom, a bad and dangerous word. The days of reparative readings, where you would look for things you enjoyed, are all but dead. Fiction is rarely a chance to feel joy; it's an excuse to get angry, to vitriolically attack those different from oneself while surrounded with those who are the same as oneself. It's an excuse to form in-groups and out-groups that must necessarily be in a constant state of conflict, lest it come across like This side is accepting That side's faults. In other words, fandom has become the exact sort of space as the nonfandom spaces it used to seek to define itself against.

It's not about joy. It's not about resonance with plot or characters. It's about hate. It's about finding fault. If they can't find any in the story, they will, rest assured, create it by instigating fan wars- dividing fandom into factions and mercilessly attacking the other.

And that's if they even went so far as to read the work they're critiquing. The ones they don't bother to read, as you saw above, fare even worse. If an AO3 writer tagged an abuser/victim ship, it's bad, it's fetishism, even if the story is about how the victim escapes. If a trans writer uses the title "I Sexually Identify as an Attack Helicopter" to find a framework to dissect rainbow-washing the military-industrial complex, it's unforgivable. It's a cesspool of kneejerk reactions, moralizing discomfort, treating good/evil as dichotomous categories that can never be escaped, and using that complex as an excuse to heap harassment on people who "deserve it." Because once you are Bad, there is no action against you that is too Bad for you to deserve.

Isabel Fall's story follows this so step-by-step that it's like a textbook case study on modern fandom behavior.

Isabel Fall wrote a short story with an inflammatory title, with a genesis in transphobic mockery, in the hopes of turning it into a genuine treatise on the intersection of gender and sexuality and the military-industrial complex. But because audiences are unprepared for the idea of inflammatory rhetoric as a tool to force discomfort to then force deeper introspection... they zeroed in on the discomfort. "I Sexually Identify as an Attack Helicopter"- the title phrase, not the work- made them uncomfortable. We no longer teach people how to handle discomfort; we live in a world of euphemism and glossing over, a world where people can't even type out the words "kill" and rape", instead substituting "unalive" and "grape." We don't deal with uncomfortable feelings anymore; we censor them, we transform them, we sanitize them. When you are unable to process discomfort, when you are never given self-soothing tools, your only possible conclusion is that anything Uncomfortable must be Bad, and the creator must either be censored too, or attacked into conformity so that you never again experience the horrors of being Uncomfortable.

So the masses took to Twitter, outraged. They were Uncomfortable, and that de facto meant that they had been Wronged. Because the content was related to trans identity issues, that became the accusation; it was transphobic, inherently. It couldn't be a critique of bigger and more fluid systems than gender identity alone; it was a slight against trans people. And no amount of explanations would change their minds now, because they had already been aggrieved and made to feel Uncomfortable.

Isabel Fall was now a Bad Person, and we all know what fandom spaces do to Bad People. Bad People, because they are Bad, will always be deserving of suicide bait and namecalling and threatening. Once a person is Bad, there is no way to ever become Good again. Not by refuting the accusations (because the accusations are now self-evident facts; "there is a callout thread against them" is its own tautological proof that wrongdoing has happened regardless of the veracity of the claims in the callout) and not by apologizing and changing, because if you apologize and admit you did the Bad thing, you are still Bad, and no matter what you do in future, you were once Bad and that needs to be brought up every time you are mentioned. If you are bad, you can NEVER be more than what you were at your worst (in their definition) moment. Your are now ontologically evil, and there is no action taken against you that can be immoral.

So Isabel was doomed, naturally. It didn't matter that she outed herself to explain that she personally had lived the experience of a trans woman and could speak with authority on the atrocity of rainbow-washing the military industrial complex as a proaganda tool to capture progressives. None of it mattered. She had written a work with an Uncomfortable phrase for a title, the readers were Uncomfortable, and someone had to pay for it.

And that's the key; pay for it. Punishment. Revenge. It's never about correcting behavior. Restorative justice is not in this group's vocabulary. You will, incidentally, never find one of these folks have a stance against the death penalty; if you did Bad as a verb, you are Bad as an intrinsic, inescapable adjective, and what can you do to incorrigible people but kill them to save the Normal people? This is the same principle, on a smaller scale, that underscores their fandom activities; if a Bad fan writes Bad fiction, they are a Bad person, and their fandom persona needs to die to save Normal fans the pain of feeling Uncomfortable.

And that's what happened to Isabel Fall. The person who wrote the short story is very much alive, but the pseudonym of Isabel Fall, the identity, the lived experiences coming together in concert with imagination to form a speculative work to critique deeply problematic sociopolitical structures? That is dead. Isabel Fall will never write again, even if by some miracle the person who once used the name does. Even if she ever decides to restart her transition, she will be permanently scarred by this experience, and will never again be able to share her experience with us as a way to grow our own empathy and challenge our understanding of the world. In spirit, but not body, fandom spaces murdered Isabel Fall.

And that's... fandom, anymore. That's just what is done, routinely and without question, to Bad people. Good people are Good, so they don't make mistakes, and they never go too far when dealing with Bad people. And Bad people, well, they should have thought before they did something Bad which made them Bad people.

Isabel Fall's harassment happened in early 2020, before quarantine started, but it was in so many ways a final chance for fandom to hit the breaks. A chance for fandom to think collectively about what it wanted to be, who it wanted to be for and how it wanted to do it. And fandom looked at this and said, "more, please." It continues to harass marginalized people, especially fans of color and queen fans, into suffering mental breakdowns. With gusto.

Any ideas of reparative reading is dead. Fandom runs solely on paranoid readings. And so too is restorative justice gone for fandom transgressions, real or imagined. It is now solely about punitive, vigilante justice. It's a concerted campaign to make sure oddballs conform or die (in spirit, but sometimes even physically given how often mentally ill individuals are pushed into committing suicide).

It's a deeply toxic environment and I'm sad to say that Isabel Fall's story was, in retrospect, a sort of event horizon for the fandom. The gravitational pull of these harassment campaigns is entirely too strong now and there is no escaping it. I'm sorry, I hate to say something so bleak, but thinking the last few days about the state of fandom (not just my current one but also others I watch from the outside), I just don't think we can ever go back to peaceful "for joy" engagement, not when so many people are determined to use it as an outlet for lateral aggression against other people.

#isabel fall #fandom #proship #proshippers please interact #proship please interact #profiction

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