#is this gross for anyone because im considering it.

[hubriswest]

herbert....... pregnant......... ignore me

[swagging-back-to]

the way literally every fucking person has been REPULSIVE about euthanasia lately.

[puppy-the-mask]

Roommate AU thing

“And you are?”

“Cas, I’m Edge’s DID”

“What’s a DID?”

“Datemate In Development, We’re more than Best Friends but not quite ready to say Partners.”

“... ah I... see???” (Or) “So you’re still in the dating phase?”

[yuri-for-businesswomen]

i have left

hey everyone this will probably be the last thing i post on this blog albeit im keeping it up for resources.

im eternally grateful for how this community has helped me through prostitution and everything, i have amazing mutuals and i have learned so much 💜

but it has become toxic. many of yall cant handle disagreement and default to being as condescending and obnoxious as possible. one of us calling out a post is not enough, we have to dog pile everyone with a slightly shitty opinion. some of yall have severely lost the plot if you ever had it in the first place. not everything is that serious, especially when it comes to online drama.

im sick of it. so many engage in the same bullshit we accuse online trans activists of. this is an echo chamber. so many just mindlessly parrot slogans and arguments. what im very sick of is seeing single tweets or posts by a nobody, usually anonymous, being spread as receipts and shit. you know how annoying it is when everything a self proclaimed terf somewhere on social media says is taken by trans activists at face value and representative of the community when theyre not even radical feminist, just transphobic? yeah. yet a lot of yall do the same by saving and sharing „receipts“ where some random person who claims theyre trans (or not even) says some fucked up or out of pocket shit. you will always find people like that online, from any politicial „camp“ or ideological alignment!

a lot of yall seem to think that debate is about winning and not like, having an exchange of arguments and let the audience come to their own conclusion

and i just dont hate trans people. in fact i feel kinship to any female or homosexual trans person, anyone except heterosexual males. many of yall dont even realise how male centered you are when you more or less equal the trans community to heterosexual men who have a fetish for humiliation and forced feminisation or whatever. who exist and are an issue and i do wish the trans community at large would distance themselves from those men, but its not all there is to it. yes i agree that we need to protect vulnerable young people, girls and especially lesbians and gay boys, from being pushed into transitioning, i think the age of consent should be put at 21 or something, but we have to acknowledge and consider that there are people who have already transitioned and will transition in the future and i just dont understand how you cant have any empathy for them. no matter what you think about transition, many trans people ARE vulnerable and marginalised. plus consider how many detransitioned women are in this community yet yall talk about trans people as mutilated and shit its gross. in the end we can only try to establish structures that keep people from self harming, but an adult of sound mind has the right to do so anyways, including plastic surgery and trans surgeries. and i want to keep my arms open to them; but a lot of rhetoric around it spread on here will only alienate them further.

right now im saving all my essays in notes so its out of my mind. i have missed the community a lot so maybe i will return at some point but i have also been feeling better since i stopped being on radblr. i miss the rare valuable input and thoughts by other women but overall i have felt unaligned with how things have been handled on here. it has been mostly negative instead of constructive and pragmatic. ive had the impression some of yall enjoy the „being in the in-group“ community aspect more than actually being here for feminist exchange. lack of nuance, lack of empathy, lack of reason. it pains me but i have more and more come to understand why people just block us without engaging on general suspicion because ive also come to be annoyed with some of yall engaging with posts - and im on „your side“.

anyways im doing okay, im going to drug counselling regularly now and am trying to establish a stable life for those of you who inquired, and i hope anyone reading this is self reflected enough to know whether this applies to her or not. bye

[suugarbabe]

You are SO amazing love, never let anyone tell you any different. I WILL fight them 😤

Tysm for considering wolfstar!daughter, i think youd enjoy the current fics that are currently out for it. Most of them are x fred or george and it just reminds me of you everytime.

Sorry, this is probs going to be long 😬

For the prompt though, i imagine they came about reader when remus found her on a full moon as a toddler werewolf, abandond in the forest (last yr hogwarts or graduated doesnt matter, whatever you decide) and when Sirius finally finds Remus the next morning he's shocked, confused, and then melts. Big, tall, broard Remus has this small bundle of cuteness wrapped in his sweater trying to cuddle into him.

Whether youd like to continue on from there or do reader growing up or a time skip is up to you. Same as if James dies or not, whatever your brilliant mind decides 🧡 but if it helps this is how i see the family dynamic:

I think Sirius would be the overprotective kind of dad, never failing with that wonderful sense of dramatics!

While Remus is the calm voice of reason that talks himself down when he feels like he might be going a little overboard.

Of course we're Uncle Reggies little star, he will be mean to another child if they hurt you. He and James are constantly arguing over who's the better uncle.

James is the uncle that gives you alcohol illegally and doesnt adhere to a curfew.

So skip to hogwarts in some of the last years (im a ravenclaw so i always imagine reader as a ravenclaw but anyhouse would be fun to explore) and reader makes it official with Theo or Enzo. Harry's a tattle tale and tells his dad who then brags to Reggie, who the apparats him self the Sirius' to demand answers because "who was this vile thing that dared touch his star?? Boyfriend?!?! Fucking over his dead body!!" Fully expecting Sirius to agree with him. But he doesnt, he just sighs because at least they made it til 6th/7th yr before boys started, he'll give the poor boy a chance first. And then Remus bursts in and has a full meltdown. Thats his little wolf; his baby. She can have a boyfriend. A BOYFRIEND!?! He might puke. No this isnt allowed. Boys are gross. And nasty. And theyre going to hurt her. But not before he hurts them!! He's going to put the fear of godric into this boy! RIGHT NOW!! Wheres his wand? He needs to go to Hogwarts.

Its so unexpected that both Black brothers are frozen. Until Remus starts searching for his wand and Sirius has to calm him down while Regulus goads him on. And through all of it, reader and Enzo/Theo were standing at the door to 'meet the parents'.

And then however you want it to go from there love! So sorry that was soo long and rambely. Of couese no pressure to write it and take whatever creative liberties youd like!!

Thank you love x

The group had made an agreement that the girls would all get a flat together, as would the boys. So naturally Sirius, James and Remus planned and found one for themselves that was 'absolutely perfect' as Sirius put it since it back right up to a large patch of woods; 'Perfect for you, Moony'.

In the moment Remus had rolled his eyes, but truly he was thankful. By the last full moon of school, Remus had managed to transform back to himself without completely passing out. After the fourth full moon in the flat, Remus was able to still decently function after his transformations.

What neither Sirius nor James expected happened and they didn't know how to react initially. Sirius and James had lost sight of Remus toward the end of the night, now both transformed back to themselves looking for him.

When Sirius found him, he didn't expect the scene he walked upon. Remus shoulders were hunched over, and at first Sirius thought he was crying. But the closer he got, he realized it was not Remus making those noises, but...a child?

"Moony...what the bloody hell is that," Sirius voice was cautious, he was still convinced he might be hallucinating.

Remus turned around slowly, "She's like me, Pads. She...she was a tiny little wolf, I swear it." Sirius was skeptical, but the way Remus was looking down at you, every doubt was melting away. The way your tiny hands gripped on to Remus's sweater.

When Sirius got close enough, you reached out for him, and he was done for. When James caught up with the pair he had the same initial reaction. But like Sirius, one look at you and he was also convinced.

It had taken the girls no time to swoon after you, and the boys were forever grateful. While Remus declared himself your father (Sirius demanding his was Dad number 2). James became your fun uncle (funcle as he called himself, Lily rolling her eyes each time).

To say it had taken a village was not just a cliché, but reality. Sirius was every over protective father, having a flair for the dramatics any time anything happened, good or bad. Remus was more calm, essentially the voice of reason when Sirius was talking circles. You eventually became the perfect mix of the two, which they both loved.

When you got your Hogwarts letter Sirius threw a party, Remus thinking it was a little over the top but Sirius insisted, "Our little star got her letter, we're celebrating Moony." Regulus had brought you off to the side, insisting you owl him if anyone is mean to you, he'll come and fix it, "Even if it's another little twat kid, you let me know, okay Star?"

After fourth year, James let you try his beer for the first time. Sirius lost his mind, Remus reminded Sirius how much worse he was at your age and that if James was letting her try it that it was a better situation than he used to get in to.

What you didn't expect was the commotion that ensued during Christmas holiday seventh year. It was tradition for you and your dads to throw a party on Christmas Eve. You were putting the final touches on the Christmas biscuits you usually made when a loud pop sounded in the living room.

"SIRIUS GET YOUR ARSE IN HERE NOW!" The voice of Regulus rang throughout your house and you instantly froze. Sirius sauntered in, not bothered by his younger brothers tone, "Seriously, with the shouting Reg, what is it now?"

Regulus looked over Sirius shoulder at you in the kitchen before turning back to his brother, "How could you let her, huh? How could you let her do this, with a Slytherin no less? My little star? Who is this vile snake you've let touch our little girl, a boyfriend, Sirius, really?"

You held your breath, fully expecting your dad to lose it, go full on dramatics, but instead he just pinched the bridge of his nose, "Honestly, Reg, calm down. I'm surprised it took us till seventh year for her to finally decide to get a boyfriend, don't get me wrong, I'm thankful," he turned pointing at you, "but I trust her, Reg. And you should too. She's not like us. Really though, darling, a Slytherin?"

Sirius turned to face you and all you could muster was a shrug of your shoulders before your father burst in. "WHAT did I just hear? My wolf has a WHAT? With a WHO? Darling are you mad, who is this boy? A boyfriend? Oh my Godric, I think I'm going to be sick. Who is he, star? Who, tell me now. I'm getting my wand. Sirius, my wand now."

Remus held out his hand expectantly, but nothing happened. Both Regulus and Sirius stood frozen, mouths agape at Remus's reaction before a sly smirk crawled its way onto Sirius's features, "Oh my my, Moony, this is a sight."

At that moment the Potter's all appeared, the air obviously thick with tension. James looked between his friends, "Oi, what did we miss?"

When you saw Harry you were instantly enraged, your inherant traits from Sirius coming in to play, "You little fucking rat, you weasel, you knew I was going to tell them over break, how could you tell Reggie before I could tell my parents, I'll hex you Potter, I swear it!"

You started after Harry, only for James's strong arms to lift you up by the waist and hold you tight, "Woah there, mini Sirius, calm down. I think this might be my fault. Harry told me out of concern and I might have boasted about your feats to Reggie."

You went slump in your Uncle's grasp, "Uncle Jamie...how could you." You were pouting as he sat you down, giving you a tight hug, "I'm sorry, star, I was just so dang proud of you."

You looked over at your parents, Sirius now rubbing Remus's back who was pinching the bridge of his nose. There was a knock on the door, causing everyone's attention to switch towards the distrubance.

Walking towards the door, you looked back with your hand on the handle, "Be nice." The marauders and Harry held up their hands in defense, Regulus crossed his, "No promises."

When you opened the door, Enzo stood there, cheeks slightly pink. "Erm, are you sure it's okay for me to be here?" You laughed slightly out of embarrassment, "How much did you hear exactly?"

"Enough to know I'm more afraid of Professor Lupin than Sirius," he whispered as he followed you through the door.

"Dad, Father, this is Enzo. My boyfriend," You gestured toward Enzo who gave a shy wave.

Remus placed his hand on his own chest, "Oh thank god it's Berkshire. I was really worried, star dear. Really worried. Thought maybe it was going to be the Nott boy."

This caused both you and Enzo to laugh, Enzo speaking up finally, "Merlin, no, sir. Nott's afraid of Y/n actually. So you've done a good job."

"Don't start kissing ass just yet, Berkshire," Regulus stuck a finger out at the boy.

"Uncle Reggie. Behave," you scolded him like a child, he looked down at the floor like one, too.

Sirius stepped forward, extending his hand, "So sorry, my boy. I'm Sirius, Y/n's father. You've met Moony, erm, Professor Lupin, her dad. He's sorry for anything you may have heard through the door."

Enzo grabbed his hand, shaking it firmly, "It's alright, sir. It's a pleasure to meet the men who've raised such a strong woman." Enzo smiled at you affectionately, causing you to blush in front of your family.

"Look at that, Moons. Our little star is growing up," Sirius wiped a faked fear, while Remus was holding back real ones.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose like your dad had done earlier, "Alright, who's hungry, hmm? Shall we eat?" You led Enzo towards the large table. Everyone followed suit, both Regulus and Remus grumbling slightly.

As you sat down, Enzo gave your thigh a squeeze. He leaned over and whispered in your ear, "Star, huh? That's cute." You side-eyed him, giving him a slight glare, "You tell anyone, you're a dead man."

Enzo grinned to himself, "It'd be an honor to die by your hands, love."

Across the table, Sirius gave Remus's thigh a squeeze, "She's growing up, Moons. Our little star." Remus nodded, pouring himself some brandy, "That she is, Pads. Our little wolf is a woman now." Sirius scoffed, "She still needs us though right?" Remus nodded, smiling, "We'll always be there for her."

[jazjelspen]

scarlet and silver lining (part 2)

alastor w/ daughter reader

(notes: apologies for any inconsistencies!! not proofread!! apologies for slight ooc vox since im unsure of how he first acted when he recently died and how he got into power qwq. apologies for anyone ooc in general cuz my brain is stew. slight graphic depictions of violence. this is definetly not by best work but I'll make sure to try harder next time!)

(tags: @falsemain @aconfusedwonderland @stasiaclash )

Today was a certainly an... eventful morning?

Certainly unusual though, considering on what you have stumbled upon on this certain morning.

You had barley been here on your first day and this is what you were to see? All you wanted was food-- even cereal would suffice.

But god-- really Angel??..

Having walked down the steps from your room, gotten ready for the day you walked down with a grace you've held even during your days living and breathing. With careful and cautious steps you managed to not come across him and have your morning ruined too early.

You had accidentally stumbled upon everyone at the main seating room, you being here due to not remembering where the kitchen or dining area was very well.

Unfortunately, Angel was proudly presenting one of his porn films to the group. Few disgusted.. embarrassed.. or even weirdly-- enjoying it.. geez Nifty's certainly weirder than you expected her to be.

You scrunched your nose up slightly as you started to feel a bit grossed out yourself, simply because others seemed uncomfortable and you weren't exactly fond of seeing these kinda of thing often.. but it was hell so you couldn't exactly complain.

You walked up to the group while trying to mute the moans and squeals from Angel Dust on the television in your head, propping your arms up on the large gold headboard of the sofa Angel was laying on and when you finally spoke you managed to even catch Angel and the others jumping slightly from the unexpected surprise as they spoke amongst themselves.

"Geez Angie.. Really gotta be showin' everyone what you do?"

"--And you!"

Now you were surprised, your eyes darting towards the winged cat that, turns out, was speaking before you got there and was even pointing at you.

There was a pause. Your eyes and his meeting as he was pointing at you.. he narrowed his own set before becoming seemingly speechless.

"Actually I don't even know you yet, but considering how you act on that disgusting show and simply being here you probably got some kind of issue similar to your friend here." His eyed flickered to Angel as he spoke towards you. You being incredibly confused on what the fuck this guy was even saying by mentioning you but Angel decided to spit out his words before you.

"Oh yea? And what's my issue pussy cat?"

The cat, name being Husk from what you could remember the day before, scoffed at your friend. "Don't get me started. I see right through you and all of this bullshit and how fake you are."

Angel in response, seemed to laugh nervously.. almost in a way to cover something up. "Me? Fake? Wow.. I had no idea.." The spider's voice holding certain sarcasm continued, you just simply waiting to be able to ask your own question next. "Guess that's why I'm an actor, dumbass.. AND--" and just like that he was interrupted by a ring of his cellphone, having to quickly hold his finger up and mutter to Husk a 'hold that thought' before moving away to answer his oncoming call.

Meanwhile.. you finally managed to ask your question to Husk. "When you mean me having an issue similar to my friend's.. do you mean I seem fake? Wait-- why was I even mentioned anyway?.. I just got here!.."

"Depends. I haven't talked to you enough, but if you and him get along then I'm sure you must have some kind of fake act you hide behind as well.. you definitely can't be as cheery in person as you are on that show.

Oh and I was just revealing everyone's darn issues.. being a hell of a bartender works out for these kinds of things.." standing there almost mumbling his last few words just made you bite your cheek a bit as your face flushed in slight embarrassment. He's not exactly.. not totally wrong..

In the end Angel confessed that he needed to do an emergency shoot for his boss, whom you hated with all your guts as well with how badly that piece of shit treated Angel. You never did get abuse as bad as Angel's but still.. it all definitely gets to you on how both your bosses treated you and those around.

You frowned slightly while looking down at the sofa he previously sat on, dreading when you'll have to get back on TV as well.. although you were a bit unsure of how you'll get Vox's message if you didn't bring your cellphone.

Ah well.. not for you to worry about anyway-- if he really wanted to contact you then you're more than certain he'll find a way to reach you whether you liked it or not.

You snapped out of your thoughts once you heard Angel huff and puff out the door while exchanging a few hurried words to Charlie before slamming it in front of her face.. slight disrespect much? You felt a bit bad for the princess, seemed like quite the pushover.

You truly hoped she wouldn't rule the entirety of hell in this exact way, for if she did she'd get eaten alive for sure.

But while she was groaning and becoming frustrated as her girlfriend was helping her out you were still very much hungry. "Sooo.." you mumbled "Where's the food area? I didn't exactly wake up too early to eat with all of you.. if you did all eat together." You smiled nervously at what's left of the group, body facing Husk who was the closest.

He even responded to you! How kind-- although he was still quite grumpy.

He pointed a finger from his left hand holding the bottle behind himself at the nearest entry way behind and beside the staircase you walked down from. "Over there, turn left, head straight, see two large fancy doors? Open it. walk through it, ignore the empty tables unless you want to eat alone which would be fucking sad and head towards the door with the circular window at the top. That's the kitchen and eat whatever you want, don't complain if anything's spoiled since you chose to be here of all places."

You couldn't help but want to roll your eyes slightly, but with a minor huff of your own you walked passed him and tried your best to remember his shitty directions. "Thanks.. Husk.."

Once you started walking his directions were shitty indeed, simple but being a bit more descriptive definitely would've helped.

Walking through the hall you'd eventually go through your steps echoed against the walls, bouncing back and forth like the ripple of a rain drop on a puddle. Thankfully it was very clean, Nifty certainly seemed to have done her job right with how spotless this part of the hotel was! As weird as she is.. she does her job well.

Finally reaching said 'fancy' doors you opened it to see an entire dining room. Clean as well with newly furnished tables and chairs with unique tablecloths with intricate designs only reminiscent of the royal family. Even each of the tables had a vase and flowers set up and two small pepper and salt shakers, although you ere certain those flowers were fake considering the lack of realism to them.

Nonetheless, fairly charming.

You walked past them all to head towards a large door with the circular window that was described by Husk, peaking through it from a distance it was certainly to the kitchen.

But..

Gosh.. what was that smell?..

It was a humble, nostalgic, delicious smell.

God-- what the fuck was it??..

As if the smell was leading your nose faster towards the door, pushing your body against it since it was those doors that simply would swing itself open or closed with a push.

"Ooo.. is that--" you walked in with a big smile, your nostrils filling itself with that childhood scent.

"It certainly is, ma puce."

You should've known.

The voice that disturbed your entire morning and mood turned around from the stove to reveal itself as none other than-- Alastor.

"Why.. it's certainly an absolute gas to see you up and awake! I even made you your favorite--" the radio demon exclaimed whilst picking up the pan he was using to plop whatever food he made onto the plate, with a swift motion he set down the pan to grab the plate and reveal your hot and fresh breakfast to you.

"--Jambalaya!" he cheered, a subtle audio track of an audience cheering could be heard from his staff that seemed to work as both a microphone and a speaker.

"Uh huh.." you frowned deeply while crossing your arms and raising your shoulder while taking a step back from him. "Actually I ate before I came he--" and even as you tried to escape him by turning back he managed to teleport right in front of you!

"Tsk tsk.. my dear you know you can't lie to me. Take a seat, enjoy your meal! You can't be telling me you aren't dying to try your favorite dish?" He put his hand on your back and the other holding the food as he pushed you through the door, then suddenly pulled you by your wrist, and sat you down on the nearest empty table. "Besides.."

"It's your Nana's recipe..."

Oh.

Your Nana.

Your eyes softened at the mention of her but immediately glared at him with a sharp gaze which seemed to not even affect him in the slightest.

'This fucker..' he knew how to get to you, he knew your weakness.

"Don't you dare fucking mention her. You have no right to have her name roll down your disgusting tongue and through your rotten teeth."

"Oh, is that any way to treat your father little fawn? My.. you're not even little anymore! My mistake.."

His large smirk widened as he set down the plate and a pair of silverware in front of you.. it only made you want to strangle that thin neck of his.

You hated him.

He was the reason why you were down here.. although indirectly. You were blind, you were so caught up in his act even after he died--

it costed you your life.

"I'll only eat it because of Nana, other than that I would really appreciate if you could fuck off Alastor." Even as you told him to screw off he stayed ever so present! Even setting down a cup of hot coffee(or tea, whichever you prefer) in front of you that also smelled utterly delicious. "Besides you only started properly raising me instead of playing babysitter when you realized no one else would, I'm more surprised you didn't throw me back into the orphanage."

"Oh darling I'm certainly a monster but I'm not a downright devil!" Alastor you know damn well.. "Your grandmother loved you too much.. I couldn't just let you go so easily!"

"Yea yea whate-" you picked up your mug to take a sip of whatever was in it which to your surprise.. it was an old favorite drink of yours. One that you would drink every morning with Alastor during your teenage years..

"Hm.. not bad.." You mumbled as you took another sip of it, yet again another sense of home washing you over once more.

"I still yet remember your favorite morning beverage mon chere. What kind of father would I be if I wouldn't?"

"Uh yea-- when I was a teenager. A few years behind dontcha' think?" You scoffed at him while trying to seem as if his efforts were meaningless but the simple action of continuously sipping the liquid totally didn't just.. contradict that.

"Which is why I'd like to catch up a bit more hm? You begged me to leave you alone and I let you be your own independent self when I first found out you were associated with that.. thing." He pulled out the chair across from you to take a seat himself. Right after he set his staff resting against the side of the table and relaxed his elbows on the surface, his chin laid on the back of his hands while looking right at you.. inspecting you.

"If my memory serves correct I'd say around.. seventy-one years? Hm? Since I've seen you? I'm sure you've made some absolutely splendid decisions all those years."

You loudly sighed as you set the halfway empty mug down and replacing the item with the silverware beside your plate.

" Look my decisions aren't for you to judge. You're no saint and I'm not obliged to listen to whatever terrible advice you have. I'm ten years older than when you have last seen me alive and not even including the ninety-four years I've been down here in total." Intertwining your fingers with the silverware you picked up some food from your plate and bring it up towards your plate. The smell seemingly holy to you and once you plopped it in your mouth..

You could've sworn heaven took a delicious shit in your mouth. This was so fucking good...

The spices, the vegetables, the rice.. it was all just cooked to perfection.

You could definitely feel goosebumps crawl around your body and your mouth exploding in flavor.

Oh how you loved the taste of New Orleans.

"Just the way you like it dear?"

You snapped out of your thoughts as your eyes popped open towards the smirking overlord, seemingly proud of your reaction and it made you release a loud scoff from your throat.

"Just-- screw off. I don't want to associate myself with a murderer and a sadist." You set your silverware on your plate as you held your food on one hand and your mug in the other as you stood up from your seat.

"I sure do hope you know that your employer, that imbecile with one of those wretched picture boxes for a head, isn't any better darling." Alastor stayed in place but his eyes were the only thing that followed you while you took a few steps away from him with your back facing him.

Although his comment made you freeze on the spot you didn't dare turn around and face him for he wasn't even worth the action.

"Sure, he's not any better than you. But at least he didn't lie to me all my life and made me believe he was the most amazing person in the world, he didn't make me believe that he was a saint.. that he was actually a good person.."

You paused.

"So, yeah.. he may not be any better but he at the very least he isn't anything like you."

Just like that you resumed walking out the dining room, hands occupied and heart full.

You only amused your father albeit feeling a slight uncomfortable twinge in his chest that made him only want to reconnect with you more.

You just reminded him too much of your grandmother, noticing a few small actions and habits you did that you acquired through growing up with her.

You were all he had left of her, and you were all he had left of that little girl he had to leave behind.

Through selfish means it happened but..

He wished to try, just once more.

___________________________________________

You let out a shaky sigh of fear.

It was your 12th year in Hell and you have been scraping by simply scavenging for scraps, fighting foes with any weapons you could find or trade for and trying to stay alive. You were basically living in squalor but in the nicest parts of town, and was surprisingly somewhat respected due to being affiliated with a few loan sharks that you helped in return for money of resources.. even working 'normal' jobs to at least rent out a small home.

It was now the day of the 'Extermination' Where exorcist angels from above would kill any demons they could find in order to keep the population at bay. You've managed to survive each year due to your connections but all your 'protectors' have been murdered by said exorcists or have fallen from their once high power.

Cruel for heaven but-- then again you couldn't blame them. Not with how power and money hungry these sinners could be.. maybe it was best for them to keep sinners on the low.

But god did you wish you could be pardoned from this the way the hellborn were.

You didn't mean to die the way you did.

You tried to do it for a good cause.

You truly trusted in your beliefs.

You really didn't think you'd get that angry.

You didn't mean to kill that man.

You regret everything.

Especially on the day you heard Alastor's broadcasts all over hell.. you were shocked that he was even in hell but he was even torturing and toppling overlords for his own amusement??

It feels as if the version of Alastor that you grew up with, your dad..

It felt like he died all over again.

Even yet you're still mourning over it.. not for Alastor-- but for your father.

You really should've trusted those detectives and cops huh? Should've trusted the newspapers, even the 'news' on the new picture boxes they invented spoke about his case like daily gossip.

You should've trusted them all.

Evidence was right there but since you grew up with him and saw no signs on your part you could've sworn you felt it in your gut that he was innocent! That maybe that deer hunter that shot him was framing him!

That had to be the case--

Preaching about good behavior, following laws yet rebelling when they are discriminatory or unfair, that life was beautiful and precious...

Pfft. Precious my ass.

He lead you to your death and he didn't even take any part in it.

But to you, your blood was on his hands.

Which is why you knew you weren't going to regret this next part but..--

inevitably.. you did.

You were currently on the floor of an overlord's abode.

You have been seeking refuge from the exterminations happening just outside and this place was the nearest one before an exorcist angel could cut you in half.

How you managed to get in? You were quite unsure at the moment.. it went so quick, did it in a panic, and you're losing blood from a slash on the leg?? Yea getting in here was all your body was begging you to do.

But you let out a shriek when you were once again having a weapon pointed at you.

Well-- two.

Two bodyguard-looking guys confronted you as you looked up at them in fear, a third more sophisticated figure approaching.

Vox, the television demon, his head a bit funny to you considering how small his screen was yet he terrified you as well due to his status.

"How did-- oh I'm going to fucking kill Betty for leaving everything except the back door closed." He eyed you, a look of disgust evident on said small screen. "Oh just kill he--"

"WAIT!!--"

They positioned their weapons to your forehead this time, Vox about to turn around until you mentioned he- who-must--not-be-named.

"I...I knew Alastor!!--"

A shriek of a television signal could be heard, a new kind of static radiating from the overlord.

He faced you-- in a scary yet almost funny kind of way..

"What did you just say?"

"I.." you gulped.. you can't tell him he's your dad! you're smarter than that even in dire situations like these.. it's only more trouble for you.

"I knew him.. I was his.. assistant! yes and I wrote his scripts and he uh--" you felt yourself cower slightly seeing Vox come closer and put a hand up which caused his bodyguards to put their weapons down. He didn't need them, but they caused that fear he needed.

"He got me.. killed.." you trailed off and flinching when he bent down to you.

Vox smirked "Killed huh? You were one of his pathetic victims?"

You nodded vigorously, hoping this will get you to live another day. "He.. He used me as a shield when some coppers tried to shoot him.. got me instead.."

"Does that make you hate him?"

"Yes sir.."

"Hate him so much you could strange him, open his stomach, twist his intestines and feed them to them old rats in the hotels and skid ro--"

"Yes! yes sir.."

Okay maybe this overlord went a bit too far with his hate but.. whatever to not get fucking impaled by an angel.

Vox's smirk widened as he then dragged you up by your arm in a way that was far from gentle. "You sure have a pretty face as well, sight for sore eyes." He inspected you as you only stood there in fear on one leg with your other still bleeding out "Water, some rest and your voice just may be as smooth as honey." He harshly grabbed your chin to look over your appearance even more, your hair, any facial marks you may have. "You say you wrote scripts too? If you're any good you may be able to make some interesting headlines if so."

"Hm.." he hummed in thought " I like you. Prove to be useful to me and I'll let you live.. and just maybe.. I'll protect you from the exterminations and let you live comfortably working for me. As comfortable as it can get.. "

Protection from an overlord.. job from an overlord--

Not the best choices but it's way better than what you're doing right now..

"What do you say, is it a deal sweetheart?"

You weren't that stupid to make a deal with an overlord.

But as mentioned before,

Your undying spite with Alastor might've been your biggest push to shake Vox's hand and give your soul away carelessly.

"Deal."

(It's 1AM I need sleep BUT I JUST WANNA POST THISSISISIS GRAHHHH im so tired but there's one particular scene I want to get to.. may take awhile but AHHHHHHHH I can't wait!!)

[pop-punklouis]

its interesting to see how one direction fans still think harry was forced to be separate. where as he's made it clear that he chose to leave the other boys behind and started planning his exit with azoffs way way before he let anyone know.

even keeping his songs for himself and not sharing time with the band.

which is good for him, but its the same as with liam, the one direction fans will cling to the fantasy of "boys" being good and only doing shady things when management forced them.

i mean people are hardly accepting liam could've been abusive to a girl fans arent invested in. why would they ever come consider the idea that baby boy harry cheated the fuck out and made his fame the top most priority. even at the cost of others. i think he chose it to be at the cost of others.

to be completely honest, i think this is such a black and white view of the band dynamic and leaves absolutely no room for the grey which very much dictated a lot of the inner workings of the band we never saw. harry isn’t a super villian and never was. neither was zayn for leaving the band.

if you truly believe that there wasn’t a very clear agenda to bring harry to the face of the band from the beginning which only amplified as his star persona got more obvious as the band got bigger and there was more $$$ to be had— especially over the image of harry, independently, then i think you’re the one who needs to reevaluate it.

these guys were all teenagers/early 20s at the height of their fame (the band ended when harry was 21 years old!!!!). the ego thrust on them and the decisions made that were part of that era were not just decided upon by one of them, like harry. and allowed to exist without careful consideration and input by their team. they were a machine. their brand was raking in so much more money than im sure is even fathomable. were a lot of the things these boys did savory during that time period? no. and i’m not saying harry didn’t involve himself in certain areas that were shit things to indulge. but, the idea that he was a mastermind behind being the face of the band and wanting more out of a career and doing shady things under the table to guarantee that is just so silly to me. he was 18-21 years old lmfao

sony knew that harry was going to be profitable for them regardless of if the band existed. and the azoffs obviously knew that. they had primed harry from the very beginning for what ultimately ended up happening with his solo career. to make things appear so black and white that there’s no room to even suggest that harry had a lot of people in his ear and a lot of power due to his platform in the band with industry heads is just so so silly to me. the influence people have who are so much more experienced and powerful than you, coaching you and guiding you on how you need to go about your independent brand— especially at such an impressionable age as he was is so much more believable than harry edward styles the super villian who broke up the band and had been secretly planning his exit for years without any remorse for any other member and was in it for fame and profit!!!! like be so serious.

these were kids who from the very start were primed by those who saw nothing but dollar signs over their heads. if that doesn’t fuck up logical thinking and decision making after being in that kind of bubble for years, i don’t know what does. i genuinely don’t believe anyone can make any sort of judgement like that on someone who lived such a different life at such a young age and demonize them for it without ever knowing what you would do in that situation. because we can scream “i would never!” or “that’s such a gross thing to do!” or “i couldn’t hang out with them or betray this person!” or “i could never be hellbent on fame!” all we want, but how would that change if you were actually in that position? no one can say for sure. and that’s where all the grey comes in.

and i do apologize i hate being all long-winded and ramble-y but ever since 2020 when all the boys started slowly but surely talking more authentically about their experience in the band….. there’s been such a window of grace for me when i think back on things that used to upset me or confuse me about some of the decisions that were made by all of them. perhaps it’s just growing up and experiencing life, but i just have a lot more grace for them and how things transpired during those last two years especially. i cannot imagine. which is why i believe all of their separate recollections and feelings about it all are valid because they did all experience it differently and interpreted it differently as the years went on.

so, i’m sorry. i understand there’s a more nuanced conversation to be had about harry styles™️ as a brand now. there’s been a lot of things in recent years regarding him that i acknowledge and i understand people’s issues with him. which is fine. but, i just don’t really care for such a harsh opinion of him when it comes to the end of the band and how things were handled from 2014-2016. it just seems silly to look at it like that— especially in 2024.

[weirdbeancurd]

Flash Flood Under My Bed- Chapter 1

A Poolverine Fanfic

Thank you guys for being so patient, and sorry it took so long haha. Also gonna tag @icarusredwings (hopefully im not bothering you, but I love your writing and thought you might enjoy)

@thecuntcakeweveallbeenwaitingfor it's finally here yaaaay

Ao3

Logan’s done this whole song and dance before. He knows the melody by heart, the hopeless hope, the enticing push and pull of “will they, won’t they.”            

And time and time again, he falls victim to their alluring display; a moth to a flame. Died, abandoned, betrayed- it didn’t matter. At the end of the day, he stood alone. The only thing he could always count on for company was the bottle. 

“Love” is just a fantasy which preys on the naive, he learns. Logan on the other hand, is perfectly happy (a gross exaggeration) bar hopping ‘til the damn sun explodes.

Then Wade-motherfucking-Wilson waltzes into his life, squeezes past his carefully built walls, and makes himself at home in his heart. This ain’t so bad, he mumbles, half-asleep on the couch, watching tonight’s 6th episode of Jeopardy. Wade’s passed out on his right, and Logan can’t resist tracing his scars with wandering eyes, taking in every little detail as if he could vanish at a moment’s notice. He sees past his brash nature, his poorly timed quips, and his inability to take anything seriously- because Wade is so much more than mouth. Hidden behind a convincing veil of dick jokes and sass, he cares, probably more than Logan deserves.

Love emanates from the way Wade arranges the cabinets for Althea- everything within reach, complete with braille labels. It doesn't stop them from bickering like children, but the sentiment is there. And it's not just Al that gets VIP treatment. A thoughtful gesture here, a subtle reminder there, and Logan feels his core bloom with warmth. The man starts getting handsy with him (in a wholesome, platonic way), noticing how he craves touch without ever voicing it. Their knees brushing together on the couch makes him feel things he can't describe. He tries anyway.

 Adoration, perhaps? No, that can't be right. He's spent so much time alone; he's forgotten what that feels like.

You're just jealous that Wade’s a better man than you'll ever be, he decides.

So Wade himself isn’t a problem, far from it. Though he gets his nerves, Logan begrudgingly admits that he considers Wade-motherfucking-Wilson to be his one and only friend. Now there’s his problem.

The last time he gave friendship a chance, it didn't end well. In fact, it went fucking awful. 

He took out his sorrows on the innocent, slaughtering anyone in his way, and in turn, slaughtering any hope of human and mutant coexistence. The X-Men had worked on building their reputation for years, decades even. Some campaigns were beginning to take off, gaining loyal supporters, few as they were. But Logan threw it all to the wind. They gave him food, shelter, love, a purpose; and how did he repay them? He ruined their life’s work in a single night, irreparably tainted the image of mutants across the globe just because he couldn't handle his own damn grief. He retires his suit. A cloak and scythe would fit him better.

His mere presence is a deadly premonition; he destroys everything he touches, death following in his footsteps, wilting the once green grass. He is salt to the earth: an everlasting threat to life itself. No flora grows in his presence, no friend can live through his innate ability to bring about devastation. So it’s better this way, Logan tells himself. He repeats it, like a prayer. It's better this way. 

 No one is safe, not if they're with him. 

He tries kicking his friend to the metaphorical curb, keeping him at arm's length. Turns out, Wade’s a persistent little bastard. No matter how much he insults, ignores and stabs him, he just keeps coming back. Claims he's like “William Afton,” whoever the hell that is. And god, it’s a dick move, he knows. Wade welcomed him with open arms, saw Logan at his absolute lowest and still said, yes, I want that one. It's everything he's ever wanted-

But happy endings have always been a delusion of his. 

The Wolverine does not believe himself to be a smart man. A skilled fighter, sure. Stubborn as a mule? Absolutely- but never smart. It's a uniquely cruel fate to have loved and lost, in a world where there is so little love given to people like him. If Logan Howlett was a smart man, he’d take the fucking hint instead of falling for the same old ploy over and over. Whenever he meets someone and feels that terrifying spark of chemistry, he senses danger approaching like an oncoming storm. The air pressure drops, the sky turns red, the clouds loom over his shoulders like a threat. Every instinct is yelling at him to run, take shelter and wait it out. And when rain finally strikes the earth, the thunder is gunshots in his ears, screaming I told you so, you idiot. I told you so.

Like he said in the time ripper, the merc will still have his “world in a photograph;” a world that will keep on turning with or without Logan- because he was never a part of it in the first place. Leaving it behind should be easy. 

 Or it would be if Wade would stop draping himself over his shoulders every time he sits down for breakfast. It's near impossible to ignore him when he's making morning coffee look like a scene from The Notebook, but Logan can't say he minds. It doesn't mean he won't complain about it, though.

“Wade.”

“Mhm?”

“Get the fuck off’a me.”

“No can do, sugartits.”

Asshole, he thinks, leaning into the touch. Wade rests his head atop his, and Logan shivers when his morning voice rumbles through him.

“Soooo, I was thinking-”

“Congratulations.”

“Oh, ha ha,” the merc removes his arms from his shoulders. Logan mourns their loss. “I was thinking about taking another job. A killy-killy-stabby one, of course.”

The gruff man doesn't spare a glance as he raises the mug to his lips.

“And why did you feel like this was something you needed to tell me?” It's not like this is news to him; Wade’s mercenary income is the main reason they aren't living on the streets. He won't let them forget it either, going on and on about being the “breadwinner” of the household. He once referred to Logan as his “caring house wife,” and received three surprise piercings as a result.

“Well, this one's a two man job. Gotta scout out a sketchy abandoned building, but they want someone to go with me to cover more ground. What do you say, peanut?” 

That…actually sounds like a pretty good time. Logan's job search has been uneventful so far (getting hired with zero government paperwork is a bitch), and he's been getting kind of antsy cooped up in the apartment all day. Plus, Wade's making those stupid puppy dog eyes at him.

“Pleeeease? We get to kill anyone we find inside!”

“...Fine. When is it?”

There’s a suspiciously long bout of silence. 

“Wade. When. Is it.”

Said man is looking anywhere but his face, darting his eyes around until he rolls them shut with a sigh.

“It's, uh. It's in an hour.”

“The fuck you mean it's in an hour!?”

“I-ugh! I forgot, okay! I was gonna ask you yesterday, but you fell asleep on the couch at nine, Rip Van Winkle!”

“I'm two hundred years old, you- you know what, fuck you.”

“...”

“...”

“...Does that mean you're coming?”

“...I’ll be ready in ten.”

“Wooo, baby! I knew you'd pull through for me, my sweet mustelid-matey! I could kiss you right now-”

“Don't.”

“Alright.”

He flees to his room, towards the cabinet tucked in the corner. It's covered in a fine layer of dust. He takes the time to brush it off despite the rush they're in, running his fingers over a crack in the wood before sliding it open. Inside lies his suit and cowl, still here after all these years. After most of it was destroyed by the time ripper, he was understandably distraught. Logan thought he hid it well, but Wade must've seen the longing within his walled-off self and decided to take action. A week later, he presented Logan with the suit. It looked exactly like the day he’d first received it, seams clean cut, colors bright as they are ridiculous; he never thought he’d be so happy to see the damn thing again. Apparently the rat bastard knows how to sew. And apparently, the only way to get him to shut up is to be bear hugged by the one and only Wolverine. Neither mention Logan’s misty eyes when they part.

He shakes himself out of his trance, there’s no time to dwell. Emotional constipation wins this round- but only because he’s got a mission to complete. Logan tucks the suit under his arm.

“Wade?!” He calls over his shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“How long’s the drive gonna take?”

“Maybe…an hour?”

Oh for fucks sake.

The ride over is mostly uneventful. Despite Wade’s overly-enthusiastic air guitar getting on his nerves, minimal blood was shed during the hour-long trip. Key word: minimal. While singing along to a love song on the radio, Wade had tenderly jokingly rested his hand atop Logan's, startling him and nearly causing him to crash the damn car in the ensuing one-armed slap fight. Unsurprisingly, the man with three steak knives down each sleeve won. 

All in all, a successful journey.

The given address turns out to be an abandoned hospital, a splendid place for two men with fucked up medical trauma to be.

“Huddle up, Wolvie. We gotta discuss our game plan. Says right here that we should split up, but…”

They eye the building with apprehension, neither making a move. It feels like minutes before Wade speaks again.

“You know what? I think it’d be a great idea to explore together. For a thorough search, of course.”

“...Yeah. Lets.”

The two enter through the not-so-automatic doors and pass the front desk. Logan immediately recoils at the smell; the scent of rubbing alcohol seems entertwined with the very soul of this place. The inside’s surprisingly intact, like the staff up and left one night and never came back. Empty syringes peek beneath tissues in the trash, betrayed by the sinister glint of their needles. PSA posters line the halls, preaching the benefits of hand washing though there are none left to hear it. Even the hospital beds are in place, a layer of dust blanketing the sheets. All that’s missing are the patients. Their absence is striking; it almost makes him miss the annoying drone of a dozen heart monitors if only to smother the silence. Every step feeds into his paranoia, and Logan's not alone on the matter. Unease is written in the way Wade keeps making unsubtle glances at him. When Logan asks if he’s alright, the merc answers with a question.

“Pfff, why wouldn’t I be? I’m so alright. Like, unbelievably alright, right now.”

“...Let’s just get a move on.”

 Logan sticks even closer to him after that. Thorough. That’s all he’s being.

It isn't entirely clear what they're supposed to be searching for. Something about intel on a trafficking ring? The request was too vague for his liking, but hey, it pays well. Yet after twenty minutes of slogging through empty rooms with zero leads, Logan is thoroughly bored out of his mind. Likewise, Wade “ADHD Incarnate” Wilson is practically vibrating with pent up energy. He can't help but notice the lack of people to beat up, and Wade says as much.

“Okay, this place is a major snooze fest. And here I was, thinking we’d get to make some minced meat confetti.” He brightens momentarily. “Oh, oooh! I know what we should do-”

“No.”

“-we should play 21 questions!”

“Absolutely not.”

“Come on, I’ll go first! Alright, let's see…”

Logan groans, but the distraction couldn’t have come at a better time, because he’s starting to suspect Wade's catching on to his odd behavior. The man’s got a knack for sniffing out his friends' problems; like a bloodhound, but for daddy issues. Noble as that is, Logan prefers to wallow in misery by his lonesome, thank you very much. 

“Oh, I got one! How about this,” the souring of tone makes his heart drop.

“The fuck’s been up with you lately? Don't think I haven't seen the way you've been avoiding everyone- like the time you snuck out of Laura’s birthday party? Or what about the fact you’ve been ‘too busy’ to join game night five weeks in a row? You’re not even trying to hide it!” 

God-fucking-dammit.

“I don't know what you mean.” He tries keeping his voice steady, but it comes out more as a growl.

“Do you?” Wade tries getting his attention by tugging on his shoulder, only to be violently shrugged off. He takes it in stride, not even pausing his speech. “Because it seems like you know exactly what I mean.”

“Wade, drop it.”

“No, I don't think I will, actually! Because every time I try to peek into your fucked up little mind, you push me away. You're starting to hurt my precious feelings.”

“Oh, boo-fucking-hoo.”

“Look, sweetcakes. Honeymuffin. Light of my life, subject of my wettest dreams; I care about you. You know that…right?” His tone teeters on the edge of concern.

“...I can't imagine why you would.”

 In the silence that follows, he senses that he might've said the wrong thing.

“Logan. Look at me.”

He scoffs, if only to hide his growing discomfort. 

“Wha-no. Wade, I am not a goddamn child. I don’t need you to baby me like-”

“Don’t you dare give me that. I'll stop treating you like a child when you stop acting like one. This talk’s long overdue, mister.”

“Just leave me alone, dipshit. God, is this why you wanted me to come along? So you could interrogate me? Fuck off.”

“No, dumbass, it's because I genuinely enjoy your company!! Is that so hard to believe?!” Wade takes a deep breath, holds it, and exhales.

“I get it,” Logan loudly disagrees, but Wade plows through. “Your brain’s being an asshole and won't let you enjoy basic shit. Been there, done that. So whatever those mean thoughts are saying in your head? Bullshit. Absolute bullshit, I’ve never heard anything more wrong in my life.”

The “mean thoughts” protest at this, trying every trick under the sun to convince Logan otherwise. 

You're a murderer, they say.

“‘But Wade,’ you might be saying. ‘I’m an irredeemable monster!’ Uh, no, shut up. Newsflash asshole, we all fuck up sometimes. Move on and be better. Hell, you already have. At the very least, I haven’t seen you drink actual, fucking rubbing alcohol for a hot minute.”

You'll get him killed, it's only a matter of time, they insist.

“And I swear to god, if you tell me you're ‘fine,’ I will shove you into a meat grinder, and not the fun kind of meat grinder. Everyone needs some TLC, even grumpy old men like you. Your healing journey will be full of the tenderest of care, and I’m gonna be there every step of the way to make it happen. I hate to break it to you, Wolvie, but you’re stuck with me now. I’m like a wart. I’ll grow on ya, and I’m not leaving without a fight.”

Gentleness isn't in your nature, you beast.

“I can't say my merry gang can ever replace all you've lost, but we love you just the same,” his voice pleading. “Come on, peanut. Talk to me. Whatever it is, I’ll listen. I can even get Yukio to make us friendship bracelets. Doesn't get more official than that.”

Logan is struck silent. Under the many layers of self doubt and the war raging in his mind, a new voice wonders-

Would it really be so bad to just let go?

If there's one thing Wades good at, it's eating away at Logan's resolve.

He slips off his mask to flash a modest smile. 

“You gotta forgive yourself, peanut. Because they would absolutely forgive you.” 

His breath hitches sharply, cutting through the silence. 

Would they really?

He wants nothing more but to melt into the comforting embrace he’s offered, to collapse and let someone else take the reins for once. Fat tears threaten to roll down his cheeks. The sobs are fighting their way up his throat and he knows it's only a matter of time before he breaks. Perhaps he can shatter, just this once, and-

Two hands grasp his shoulders in what is meant to be a friendly gesture, but his mind interprets it as anything but. Animalistic terror surges through his body. Deep in thought, he failed to notice Wade approaching. Suddenly, it's a hundred years ago, he's fighting a war he can barely remember, and an enemy is trying to drown him in a river. His stomach feels like it's eating itself and his entire body aches; being on your feet for four days straight will do that to you. The man presses down on his shoulders, dunking his head below the freezing rapids. In his weakness, they gain the upper hand, and Logan gasps for air. He finds none, instead met with water rushing to his lungs. It's cold, too cold. There's frantic splashing, and he can't breathe, and his throat filling with liquid, and so he lashes out-

“Aghh!”

A cry of pain thrusts him back into reality.

“W-Wade?” He blinks. There is no enemy, no river, no war. Just Wade, pinned to the ground by his claws through his throat. He gurgles, grabbing at his wrists to pry him off. Logan feels like he's drowning again.

He forces his hands to work, retracting his claws and immediately putting pressure on the wound- just as the army taught him. 

“Wade! S-shit. I'm sorry, I’m so sorry. I wasn't- I didn't mean it, I swear, please don't-”

The man pushes him away, cradling his neck with one hand. He holds up a single finger with the other, as if asking Logan to wait. Wade eventually makes a noise that sounds like an asthmatic frog and sits up.

“Ugh! God. You got me good there, tiger. As I was saying,” he blanches at the shell-shocked expression on Logan's face.

“Woah, hey heyheyhey! Hold on, Wolvie, it was an accident! I know you didn't mean it, honey badger,” he holds up his hands, palms facing outward like he's placating a wild animal. “Look- see?” He gestures to his throat. “Good as new, no harm done! I’m fine, really.”

But it’s not fine. He’s done it again; once with Marie, and now with Wade. One of these days, he’s going to actually kill someone he loves (I already have, he thinks). 

The question is not if, but when. How long until history repeats itself?

“No, no, I can’t. I-I can’t do this. Not again,” Logan gasps.

He tugs on his hair, trying to ground himself. The air’s too thin; he can't breathe. He tries sheathing and unsheathing his claws, but that only reminds him of the carnage he's committed. Wade’s saying something; he doesn't hear what. 

“Just go away. Just go!” And then it dawns on him; if he leaves, Wade will follow. The dumbass can’t recognize a lost cause when he sees one. Logan needs to prove how utterly repulsive he is, needs to show him that he isn’t worth the effort. The words that leave his mouth feel like retching up shards of glass.

“I…I never wanted to be a part of your freak show, anyways.”

Wade straightens.

“You don’t mean that.” 

He doesn't. God, he doesn't.

“I do. And you know what? I should’ve stayed in my own damn universe and drank my sorrows away. At least then I wouldn’t have to listen to your sorry ass- at least then I wouldn’t have had the misfortune of meeting you! Seriously, do you ever shut the fuck up?” 

 Logan basks in the fire he spits, imagining he’s talking to the mirror, because Wade doesn’t deserve it, and because he doesn’t deserve Wade. Hostility is an old friend of his. He falls back on its familiarity, revels in its security. How could he have hoped for this to end any differently? I told you so, you idiot, I told you so.

“It’s a miracle your friends haven't left your ass behind. But just you wait, bub. Just you fucking wait. You’ll end up alone again, because of your frankly insufferable personality- and because it's what you fucking deserve! So for the sake of everyone around you, I pray they find a cure for immortality.”

He decides he hates the unstoppable force that is Wade-motherfucking-Wilson. He hates Wade’s selflessness, he hates how easy it is to relate to him, he hates his stupid fucking smile- and he absolutely despises how Wade believes in second chances. 

“-So just, just stay the fuck away from me, dammit!” 

Logan barely registers he’s been backing towards the door, unconsciously trying to leave. It’s become a habit. 

The second he steps into the next room, the door slams shut.

“Wh-”

Logan stares as Wade presses himself up to the glass portion, frantically jiggling the handle. He ultimately gives up on that approach and reaches for his katanas, but a metal plate erupts from the floor and seals him off. It's a total lockdown- they’ve been separated. 

“Wade? Wade?!” Only his echo responds. 

He unsheaths his claws to brute-force his way in. Each strike is accompanied by the hellish sound of metal on metal, but he’s barely made a dent despite his best efforts. Adamantium, he mutters. Fuckers must've reinforced it with the shit. 

Logan suspects an ambush, immediately confirmed by the not-so subtle chatter of about a dozen guards huddled by the room’s only exit. One of them tosses a black disk through the doorway. Whatever it is, it's not a grenade, and it's too far away to do any real damage if it did go off. Attention straying from the strange device, he stretches his senses to listen for their approach. They’re quiet for the most part, save for someone fiddling with a controller of sorts. Odd, he has time to think, right before his head explodes with agony.

His sensitive hearing is assaulted by electric screeching. It hurts, and boy, is it loud. It feels like steak knives are being shoved down his ear canals, and he can’t help but slam his hands over them, folding at the waist. Logan yelps when the sound intensifies. Sharp pain pricks his neck and he snaps his attention to the source. While he was distracted, a man dressed from head to toe in tactical gear rushed him, wielding a sharp-looking rifle that he cocks to shoot again. The noise isn’t affecting him; either those helmets are noise-canceling, or humans can’t hear this frequency. To the detriment of his eardrums, Logan pries his own hands away from his head to sidestep the shot and launch himself at his attacker. His head screams with pain even as his body sings with satisfaction at the kill, blades skewering the other man. He has no time to gather his bearings, a dozen more men storming the room. 

The mutant shreds through a couple, squinting in pain, before he spots the source of that awful screeching. The innocent disk he once ignored lies on the ground, LED flashing radioactive green. Bingo. Logan grabs a rifle from the next agent he kills, chucking it (with a little more force than necessary) at the device. It shatters upon impact, drawing a sigh of relief. The torment over, he stabs one man through the heart, using his body as a projectile to knock out another. The action throws him unexpectedly off balance. Huh. Logan brushes the thought aside, whipping around to grapple with an agent who'd almost gotten the jump on him. He shoves them back, the other reaching for their gun, and actually manages to pistol whip the wolverine. Must be getting rusty, he thinks, returning the gesture with a friendly impaling. 

By the time he’s mauled his way through eleven guards, he realizes all too late that something’s very wrong. His breathing is labored, posture slumped. A couple of the men got some pretty good hits on him, for god's sake. The last one standing proves to be particularly hard to take down, not because he's a skilled combatant, no, but because the room won't stop fucking spinning. He’s struggling to keep his claws extended, so he opts for the less dignified approach. The Wolverine grips his opponent's shoulders and tears out their jugular with bloodied teeth, winning him the fight. Needless to say, Logan doesn't exactly feel like a winner right now.

He nearly collapses before their body hits the floor, steadying himself on a lab bench. He’s taking in as much air as his lungs can handle, greedily, like a drowning man. Feeling a strange stiffness in his neck, he reaches for the source- and pulls out… a syringe? His nausea thickens, barely able to keep both knees from buckling. He turns the item between shaking fingers. The barrel is short, containing a brightly colored serum that's nearly depleted. On one end is a neon-yellow tuft of downy. Fuck. He wasn't shot with a gun; he’s been shot with a tranquilizer gun. 

Logan grunts and chucks it somewhere. Whatever that stuff was, its creator accounted for their victim having a heightened metabolism. He's being targeted. Double fuck.

It’s a battle to keep his eyes open, using the wall to take most of his weight as he stumbles along. It occurs to him that he has no idea where he’s headed. Higher brain function has officially left the building.

Eventually the drugs run their course and he crumples, tipping onto the tile with a metallic clunk. 

The next moments are but a blur in his mind. It could’ve been seconds or days; both seem just as likely in his delirious state. Logan feels himself being dragged across the tile, blinking his eyes open to a different scene each time. At first, he’s on the floor. Then he’s staring at the ceiling. Next, he’s being hauled up. If he was coherent, he’d pity the poor soul trying to lift his five-hundred pound adamantium-infused dumbass up the stairs, but he doesn't feel capable of anything but groaning at the moment. His brain feels like jello. He hates jello. It’s too sweet, and the cold hurts his teeth, and- what was he talking about again? Oh, right. He’s being kidnapped or something.

The man awakens to the chilling sensation of cold steel pressed against his bare back. He recognizes it instantly; he’s laying on an operation table. His mind flickers through dozens of encounters with needles and scalpels, gloved hands poking and prodding him like a science experiment. Logan tries to yank at his unrestrained limbs, but it’s as if they’re deadbolted to the table. The sedative must still be in full effect. It sure feels like it- his mind is full of static and the air is thick like tar. 

His eyes frantically search for an exit, but he can barely lift his head. The corners of the room appear shrouded in darkness, like an unnerving vignette. He lets his head fall back onto the table with a loud clang. Ow. That did not help his headache.

A flash of white consumes his vision. Now that really didn't help his headache. Fluorescent lights bore into his skull, piercing his eyelids. He can barely make out the silhouettes of faces hovering over him, squinting at the man in front. His vision is just beginning to focus when he’s grabbed roughly by the jaw. There are hands on him; his wrist, his chest, his face, everywhere. He only manages a flinch, muscles hardly putting up a fight. The gloved digits turn his head with smooth, practiced motion, but pay no heed to his discomfort, forcing his neck at odd angles. It takes a moment for him to spot the man’s face mask and put two and two together: he’s being inspected.

His heart races at the thought, and the scientist catches the way Logan’s eyes widen. He starts his observations, not caring if his assistant can keep up with his rapid-fire remarks.

“Healing factor is greatly reduced. Pupils are reactive to light. Subject appears semi-lucid, but its movement is still severely impaired by the injection.”

It. They called him an it.

“F-Fuck off.”

“Ah. So it speaks.”

He gives a defiant grunt. 

“How succinct. I’d expect nothing less from a dirty animal.” Logan bares his teeth, showing off his impressive canines. In hindsight, that probably didn’t do much to dispel the “dirty animal” allegations. The man rolls his eyes, turning to his paperwork.

“Subject displays signs of aggression. Reprogramming may be necessary.”

The word makes him freeze. The Wolverine’s been robbed of enough memories to know the process well.

He tries to control his trembling, but his weakness betrays him. 

The doctor looks absolutely delighted at his reaction.

“Oohoh. So the beast can feel fear!” He goads. “And here I thought you were just an emotionless killer.”

“Look, bub. I don't know what you want, but you’ve got the wrong guy.”

“Oh no, I know exactly who I'm talking to. Murderer.”

“I didn't do shi-” He jumps when they slam their hands on the operating table, fists landing inches from his head.

“I know your kind. Violent, uncontrollable, dangerous- every one of you.”

“...We’re not like that.” and then a smaller, quieter, “I-I’m not like that.”

He scoffs, a stiff grin holding back his frustrations like a dam. 

“And that’s where you’re wrong. Turns out your kind is stupid, too.”

“Well, what have we ever done to you?”

The dam breaks.

“What have mutants done? You-you things killed my FUCKING brother!” His eyes are full of emotion, nothing like the distant, well-spoken professional he awoke to. Anguish churns in his gut, hatred oozes through his clenched teeth. 

“We were colleagues, working on a project we'd dreamed of for years. It would've revolutionized the pharmaceutical industry. We would’ve been set for life. But then one of you mutant freaks escaped containment. That bastard could breathe fire. It burned him to the fucking ground.”

Logan feels sick. He remembers the smell of burnt flesh, remembers how it stuck with him. 

“He was my best friend, practically family. And I watched him scream out my name before he took his final, soot-filled, dying breath!” He gets up in Logan's face, shoving a shaking finger at him. 

“I grew up with that man. I was in the room when his first son was born. And I was the one who had to tell his child that his father is dead.”

Logan bites his tongue. He feels like a kid again, who knows the best chance at avoiding his old man’s wrath is to shut the hell up.

They settle after a bit, taking a moment to breathe and adjust their glasses.

“...I appear to have lost my composure. Apologies, I didn't mean to stoop to your level.” Nevermind, fuck this guy. Time to poke the bear.

“What's your brother’s level, huh? Six feet under?” It was a low blow, but Logan still revels in the snarl it evokes. And then his scowl grows into a grin. Cold fear washes over him. Logan has the feeling he's going to regret ever opening his mouth.

“You know, word around the block is that you’re not from here.”

He knows where this is going. He tries to turn his head away but jumps when the doctor grabs his chin and yanks it back. The hand lingers, grasping his jaw firm enough to bruise.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Logan stubbornly avoids his eyes. The mutant flinches when he reveals a familiar instrument: a scalpel. He doesn't have time to ponder its significance before the doctor plunges it into his thigh. Now, he’d be the first to tell you that his pain tolerance is pretty high. It’s got to be, when you’ve been fighting tooth and nail for over two centuries. But this, this is a whole different beast. There's something about the artificial light flooding his vision, the iron grip on his chin and the chilling steel of the operating table that unsettles him to his very core. While he doubts the drug cocktail is helping, the real kicker is the horrors of his own mind- those, he can’t escape. 

The terror of past procedures makes itself known through shaking hands and muscles taut like tightrope. The sedative limits his movement like a set of leather straps, and he panics when his limbs don’t feel like his own. It’s an assault on the senses, amplifying them to the point where even the smallest touch burns like he's being branded with a red-hot iron. It feels too much like adamantium flooding his body. Logan barely holds back a whimper, nearly biting off his tongue when the pain claws up his thigh. 

It’s all too much and there's no end in sight. Who knows if Wade is even looking for him. 

“I said, look at me when I’m talking to you, brute.” 

He does as he’s told.

“Good. As I was saying, you have quite the reputation back home.” 

Shut up shut up shutupshutup-

“It’s a long story, I’m sure you remember. My intel was frustratingly vague, but If I'm not mistaken, you fled to a bar, tail between your legs, and came back to a massacre. They burned everyone you ever loved to the ground.” His voice is rife with sadistic glee.

“Good riddance, I say; the only good mutant is a dead mutant. Really, I should be thanking you for aiding in their demise.” 

Logan feels himself slipping into the past, trying to resist the pull, but he knows it's futile. The carnage is fresh in his mind, forever etched under his eyelids. 

Bodies of students he recognizes but never got to know beyond a name lie at his feet (God, they were just kids). There’s too many to count, too many to mourn. A blanket of silver catches his eye and he rushes to turn them over. Logan recoils at the sight of Ororo, lifeless and pale. He ducks down to hold her close; flames lick his ankles but he couldn't care less. He goes through body after body, one by one, begging, pleading that this’ll be the last, but the deaths keep piling up. Jean, Jubilee, Hank, Scott, Charles. He never thought he'd see the day where Kurt manages to sit still for two seconds. Gone are his high energy shenanigans, his animated personality snuffed out for good. Logan searches the acrobat’s eyes for answers, praying the gymnast would spring to life and say gotcha, mein freund! You should’ve seen the look on your face! He wishes this was all just a joke. It'd be the world's worst joke, but he’ll take anything over this.

He wonders if he’ll ever smell brimstone again.

Logan counts the dead. And again, and then a third time, hoping that maybe someone escaped. After his fourth time doing the rounds, his face contorts with a devastated sob and he falls to his knees. Fate is cruel to have left him the last one standing. He tries swiping at his eyes, but his gloves are slick with blood, and fuck, there’s so much blood, there’s just so much fucking blood. 

How fitting, for it to be on his hands. 

He cries and cries until the moon deserts him too. The sun rears its ugly head, and Logan stares right at the center in hope of blinding himself (because all he sees is them, cold and dead). It peeks over the horizon as his voice finally starts to give out. Screams fade to whimpers.

It’s hard to believe that the bustling school is now ruin and rubble; it was supposed to be a safe haven for people like him. It wasn't supposed to end like this.

Once a sanctuary, reduced to nothing but tinder.

And oh, how it burns.

Logan is yanked back to the present by the scalpel ripped out of his thigh. He gasps, feeling his throat pinch. Air struggles to reach his lungs, ears deaf to whatever his captor’s asking him. Playing along with the doctor’s little game of “21 questions” isn't really his priority at the moment; not that they care.

“Were you even listening?” 

He grabs a fistful of his subject's hair and tugs, hard, baring his neck. His breath catches when the scalpel lowers dangerously close, making him go cross-eyed as he watches its deadly approach. Logan resists the overwhelming urge to squeeze his eyes shut, keeping them glued to the blade's edge. His vision blurs with tears. The doctor huffs, loosening his grip just a little. 

“Fine. Ignore me if you want, your memories will be rewritten regardless. But really, think about it,” His eyes snap open at the voice suddenly inches from his ear, hairs standing on end. “-this is for your own good. Hell, it’s for the greater good. You’ve done enough damage.”

Part of Logan wants to enthusiastically agree, wants to be put down like a mad dog who can't be homed. He wants to forget all the pain and suffering that he's inflicted and have been inflicted upon; let surrendering to erasure be the one good thing he ever does in his long, miserable life. And yet, he can't help but think of happier times: when the sound of children fades into comforting white noise, or the familiar, gentle prodding of a telepath silently asking to explore his mind. He’d quirk a smile at the friendly banter he shared with his team- no, his family. He thinks of Jubilee's luminous smile and Charles's kind words, and that he doesn't want to forget. And Wade, oh Wade. The merc built him back up, an impressive feat, considering he only had rock bottom to work with. Logan would tell him how grateful he is, but he only knows so many words. He wants to be able to remember the time they spent together, however short. 

Being wiped clean would keep everyone he loves safe, but God, if he isn't a selfish man. He always has been. 

In one last desperate act of defiance, he snaps his teeth at the doctor's fingers. Of course, the sedative makes him miss by a mile, his attack far too slow to catch them skin-in-teeth.

They wrench back their hand, scowling hard. He palms Logan's forehead with a gloved hand, grabs a fistful of hair at his scalp, pulls forward, and slams his head back on the operating table. He feels his teeth clack together, the blow reverberating throughout his skull. The room tilts as his agony blossoms, and he thinks he hears someone cry out- possibly himself. In his disorientation, Logan barely registers the syringe that creeps into sight.

“Down, boy. Wouldn’t want you thrashing about during the procedure.”

He feels his head being tilted to the side, but his muscles are null to stop it. The shit they jabbed him with had to be potent stuff, because he can’t even tell which way is up. They flick the syringe twice before positioning it above a vein on his neck.

His eyes flutter shut. He finds himself thinking of Wade in what could very possibly be his last moments alive, mourning a friendship that will never get the chance to flourish. This is what he gets for hoping. Hope is a dangerous thing, and so is Logan.

Whatever the devil's got in store for me, he thinks, I’ll accept with open arms.

Bam.

He’s robbed of his fate by Wade kicking down the door, very bloody katanas hand in hand. The guards immediately train their guns on him. The doctor withdraws, attention stolen by Wade’s appearance. Shoulders hunched, breathing ragged, he looks ready to tear someone apart. Judging from the blood, he probably already has. Logan sometimes forgets Wade was, and still is a deadly mercenary (how scary can a guy who makes three sex jokes a sentence possibly be?), yet he certainly fits the part now, stalking his way to the center of the room.

“Alright fuckers. You’ve messed with the wrong dynamic duo.” 

His tone foregoes its usual breezy, devil-may-care attitude, the dangerous rasp in his voice sending shivers down Logan's spine.

“But lucky for you lot, I’m feeling generous today. I bestow upon each of yooouu- a once in a lifetime opportunity to meet your maker!” Wade spins his blades with deadly flourish, flicking blood in their direction. He narrows his eyes. “So you assholes better say your prayers-”

“-’cause I ain’t accepting apologies.”

Feel free to leave comments or tags telling me what you think! I love feedback and chatting about my writing lol

[astrowarr]

obsessed with your dl analysis. scar hurts himself [to hurt grian] while grian opens up because it sets the precedent, i think. it's his first decision after he discovers (or can't pretend not to know anymore but. y'know. unreliable narrator will unreliably narrate.) that FOR SURE grian is his soulmate and by going and punching the jellie it establishes their dynamic as scar keeping grian hostage in a way? or testing him? considering that he actively weaponizes it later in a soulmate torture for no apparent reason at all, it reads to me as almost punishing. again, all scar has been saying since the start of this season is that he doesn’t need a soulmate, that he doesn’t want to know who he’s bonded to, etc. and grian forces him to acknowledge the bond, keeps on insisting that they base together, that they work together, that they are together because they are soulmates. all the things that scar is averse to. explicitly. now, i don't know what would happen if grian left scar alone before that point or gave up on him after that punch, because we know that grian is incapable of giving up on scar and that universe does not exist, BUT. i think that scar genuinely wanted to be left alone there, "there" meaning the whole season. and after he didn't have that choice - because grian asked him to base together and scar is incapable of denying grian - he wants a little payback? maybe? another thought is that after all of that in scar's eyes grian goes and 'forges his own destiny' with his 'secret soulmate'. his blame can so easily intertwine itself with grian's guilt and they both need to die.

oh im obsessed with this thank you so much for some beautiful scar goodtimes insight... i was definitely also considering the payback theory you mentioned, especially when you think about the fact that prior, grian had Dropped dripstone on his head. and actually, now that I think about it, i feel so much of his behavior might be desperate attempts to attain some sense of control over his circumstances?

i totally agree that the torture was always a form of punishment. i think a big miscommunication between scarian at all points in time is that grian, as a character, holds a lot of agency. he highly prioritizes Choices, and hates relinquishing control. he can't fathom staying anywhere or doing anything he doesn't want to, so what he doesn't understand is that scar isn't like that. when it comes to grian, scar does not care.

he will do literally anything so long as grian stays by his side. like you said, he is physically incapable of denying grian. but on grian's part he cannot even consider that scar is sacrificing anything for him here, because he wouldn't do that. he doesn't think he's ruining any of scar's soulmateless plans because he just fundamentally doesn't understand the power he holds over scar. part of that misunderstanding is definitely by scar's design, who is allergic to letting anyone Know him, especially post last life

it definitely makes sense why scar would be frustrated. a lot of his problems in last life were forged by his choicelessness: his only friend turned red and was forced to cut ties with him, the boogeyman curse continued to alienate him further, it goes on. so here he is in double life, ready to start anew, but then here comes grian his soulmate, asking for his hand. grian, who just by virtue of existing enacts upon scar a specific brand of choicelessness. and now scar is coming to terms with the fact that his feelings for this force of nature of a man have bound him to powerlessness ONCE AGAIN!! FOR THE REST OF HIS LIVES!! and it places him in this gross push-pull where he doesn't want grian but he Also can't help but want him desperately .. and that's how we get his behavior throughout DL. dear God i just love him

[illdiealonelyguy]

Autopilot - pt. 1 (Spencer Reid x BAU!reader)

Summary: It's Monday, which means its time to return to your desk at the BAU for another long week of work. In addition, you also return to the feeling of being suffocated by your daily monotonous routine. Thankfully, your work collegue and best friend of a few years, Spencer Reid, attempts to rescue you from your anxieties by suggesting you take part in spontaneous activities with him, throughout your work week.

Tags: fluff, kind of hurt/comfort

This is part one of a five part series that will follow reader and Spencer throughout the week, each part or 'day' being based around the aforementioned 'spontaneous activites' which spencer has in mind!!! Part one isn't very activity based, but rather getting to know Spencer and reader a bit. I hope you enjoy!!

Word Count: 1.1k

MONDAY

Your dazed expression was one to worry anyone. Anyone who was paying attention, anyways. You sat idly, not moving nor blinking, staring into an abyss. Comically though, from an outside view it seemed like you were having an insense staring contest with the little cat-shaped crystal which Garcia insisted would protect your desk from all the "bloody gross nastyness" encased in the case files that seemed to pile endlessly atop your desk.

But Spencer noticed. Dosed up on enough caffeine to fule the BAU jet, he had rid the monday morning haze from his brain before it even hit 7AM - which was impressive, really.

He haphazardly placed his third coffee of the morning on his desk, and less cautiously dropped his current read on his chair, that was previously nestled awkwardly in the crook of his armpit. This was because in his other hand he carried a mug of tea, for you.

In two small strides he was at your desk, seeing as it sat opposite his. He was greatful that out of everyone, he got the desk opposite yours. Although not being able to admit it, he was one to admire you. He enjoyed your gentle, quiet company and occasionally was close enough to witness your quick wit and humour shine through the cracks of your reserved nature. He wished you showed that side of yourself more.

Clearing his throat and running his free hand through his toustled brown hair, he placed the steaming mug of tea infront of you, hoping the gesture would sweep you out of your trance. It was safe to say it did.

Startled, you jumped and let your eyes wonder from the crystal cat, to the mug, then to Spencer's form. Eventually, your far away eyes met his hazel ones.

"Oh, hey Spence." you blurted, shaking your head from side to side as to rid the thick fog from your brain, "Thank you- thank you for this," you utter, gesturing at the mug sitting infront of you, "Although you didn't have to."

"It was really no worry, i wanted to." Replied Spencer, "And, are you okay? you've seemed distracted all morning." He notes, gently and quiet enough as to not catch the attention of anyone else. He knows you dont like people fussing over you, but he just finds it so hard not to, considering you both consider eachother really good friends. He's definitely not thought of you as anything more than that. Definitely not. Nope.

"Im alright," you exhale, "i dunno, i dunno." you dismiss, waving your hands slightly as a way to almost subconciously create distance between your feelings and others being able to detect them.

Eyes dropping in a subdued worry, Spencer wheels his chair over to your side of the desk, taking a seat beside you. "Are you sure? you can always talk to me about anything, you know that. Not just Doctor Who talk," you both chuckle at that, and Spencer's heart warms with joy as he sees a little spark restore itself in your beautiful eyes. "But, you know, proper stuff too. Like whats going on in that head of yours."

In a sort of thankful surrender, you begin to talk.

In a conversation that ends up lasting about twenty minutes, you unload everything. Your feelings of being stuck in a loop. Being stuck in restrictive routines that leave you little room to breathe. The way you value your down time so much that you end up constantly checking the time once you get home, and when you see the clock nearing the late hours of the night you panic. You panic because you know the next day is starting and you have to suffer through anxiety inducing activities, like getting up early, trying not to forget anything before leaving your apartment, trying to remember if you locked your door or not, trying to catch the metro train in time, remembering to eat breakfast, thinking about what to cook for dinner that night... and so on. Not to mention, the dread that comes with being on a case and facing so much bad in the world that you struggle to remember if there is any good left.

Sympathetically, Spencer nods along and hums in understanding. Without realising, he softly grasped your hand in his while you were talking, and stroked the back of it while you unloaded your worries on him.

"I'm really glad you let me know you were feeling this way," he starts, "but why didn't you let me know sooner?" His voice dips into a sort of sadness, hurt not at the fact that you kept this from him, but at the fact that you were suffering in silence and he couldn't do anything to help.

"I didnt want to bombard you with my problems, Spencer. We see enough ickyness working here," you gesture to the bullpen, "So you shouldn't have anything more to worry about."

"You wouldnt be 'bombarding' me," he replies earnestly, "I care about you a lot and i like to know how you're doing." A gentle blush blooms on his face at this small admission. He cares about you a lot.

"Thank you, Spence. I care about you a lot, too." You smile a genuine smile in his direction, and it feels good. You feel somewhat lighter, and the revelation blossoms in your heart that someone actually cares about you. And you're beginning to believe it.

All the while, Spencer's face contorts itself into something thoughtful, like how he looks when he's indefinately just solved the whole case in his head but yet to share with the group.

"You know, as much as it might sound frightening at first, i think a bit more spontaneity in your routine will lessen the feelings of anxiety that you're feeling. A monotonous routine can lack the excitement and stimulation needed to keep you engaged and motivated, which is probably part of the reason why you're feeling so glum."

You quirk your head to the side as a signal to egg him on, but also demonstrating your inquisitiveness towards his careful but insightful evaluation.

"I know a routine is comfortable, but i'll tell you what," he smiles micheviously, "What if, this week, you take part in activities that stray away from your normal routine. They can be small things. Or bigger things. But i think it will be good for you, and i've even got an idea for the first thing you could do?" his voice raises slightly in a hopefull questioning.

"That sounds... a bit overwhelming. So, baby steps. But, yes i agree. Im on board. What do you have in mind?"

"Oh, baby steps, definitely. Um... we could- get lunch tomorrow? Together? If you want?" He suggests nervously while his face turns a soft shade of red.

"Lunch tomorrow sounds perfect, Spencer." You express, your voice doused in gratitide at his thoughtful attempts to make you feel better. The way he validates how you feel - well - it makes you feel warm inside, and instead of dreading the week ahead, you actually begin to look forward to it.

[twistedbunni]

Hi there!! I love your last Buggy fic and I was wondering if you could come up with something where Buggy has never slept with anyone before??? I love the thought of him being so cocky and scary with people but is secretly terrified because he’s so self conscious of his image?! Thank you in advance!!

Oooh I like this idea, sorry it's taken me a while to write it.

A/N: obviously this will be smut and I've decided to do afab!reader but if there's an interest I could write an amab!reader version at a later point.

Excuse any mistakes btw Im too tired proof read this time.

You sat in a small pub enjoying a few drinks before you'd set off on you next adventure. Admittedly the pub was rather dingy and had hardly any other patrons in it besides yourself. Honestly you were debating whether it'd be better to pay for your few drinks you'd had and go to a different pub to finish your drinking.

You'd been somewhat hoping to find someone at least somewhat attractive that you could drunkenly sleep with but it seemed like the longer you said in this shit hole of a place the less likely you were to be able to achieve that. Standing to leave you heard someone approach and speak to you.

"What's a flashy lil thing like yourself doing in a dumb of a place like this?" Standing there was a tall pirate in clown makeup, and man was he attractive. Sure he looked a little messed up, ya know like a man who's life was a little fucked up, but it made him all the more hot.

"I was just about to leave actually, considering you and me are the only 2 good looking people here, I'd say it's gonna be hard to find my next drunken fling if I stay here any longer." You finished off the remainder of your drink, moving past him to close out your tab.

He moved to follow you. "Aw, but I just got here. How bout you stay a few more minutes and I'll treat you to a few more drinks, my treat. After all it'd be such a shame for you to leave so soon sweetheart."

You eyed him up a bit, a smirk forming on your lips. "Alright but it better be worth my while or else you'll be leaving here with less bones intact."

"Oh trust me babe, no leaves my presence unsatisfied by The Great Buggy the Clown." He places a hand on your hip and guides you back to a secluded booth in the back, both of you sliding into the same booth.

After some introductions of yourselves to each other and you each other, you decided to just get to the main point already. "So what are you doing here handsome? I mean I've already basically admitted I'm here only to find someone to spend my last night here with, but what about you?"

"I just came for the booze, but then I saw you looking so lonely by yourself and I thought I should fix that. It's merely a benefit that you're looking for someone to occupy your time with." He says placing an arm around your shoulder.

"What makes you think I'd want to fuck you though? perhaps I'm just using you for free liquor before I go find someone to satisfy my desires and needs." Leaning into his side and up so your face was intimately close to his.

His free hand came up to cradle your chin as he moved his face closer till your lips barely touched. "You'd be an absolute idiot if you chose anyone other than me to satisfy you tonight."

Honestly his cocky confidence, the alcohol that was now hitting your system and all those past lonely months at sea with the desire to just find someone good-looking to fuck was all adding up to being fully ready to give yourself to this clown. You closed the miniscule distance and kissed him, he of course confidently kissed you back, a hand of his detaching to squeeze your upper thigh.

Before you two could get to caught up in anything you cut your kiss short, pulling back a bit to speak. "Let get out of here, this place is too gross for us to continue this here."

A small flash of panic flooded his eyes for a moment though he nodded, moving out of the booth helping you do the same. Guiding you towards the door with his arm somewhat around you, a hand resting on your ass, he threw some money on the counter to pay as you two walked out. Luckily you had been staying at a quaint little hotel a block down so the pair of you headed there, his hand still on your ass seeming to be kneading it somewhat with excitement.

As soon as you were in your room he'd pressed you to the closest wall, lips instantly on your neck with hands gripping your hips as he grinded his own against yours. He'd already grown quite the bulge in that short span of time from you leaving the pub till now. His movements were a little messy but you'd figured it was the alcohol and he was earning some moans from you regardless so what did it matter.

Taking your own hands you began to undress him as much as you could in that moment, throwing his hat and bandana to the side, undoing the shirt that was more like a vest he wore and sliding it and his large coat off his arms. Damn we're his arms toned, and his hair that now fell down his back in the loose braid he'd kept it in under the bandana was so soft as you tugged it a bit.

"God you really know how to rile a man up don't you sweetheart? You like pulling on my hair like that?" He groaned into your ear, making you shiver a bit.

"Just trying to encourage you to get to get on with the show mr. Clown." You teased, it obviously having an affect on him as he picked you up and laid you on the bed.

His hands were quick to undo your pants and slide them down your thighs, and since you'd been expecting to get some today you had opted out of wearing anything under them. Of course he teased you for it briefly before getting back to work. Planting a few lite bites and kisses on your thigh, before running his tongue along your folds.

He paused for far too long for your liking, though when you'd look to see what the hell was taking so long you'd seen his face twisted up a bit in an expression you really couldn't read right.

"oh God don't tell me I taste bad, or God maybe I smell bad." You'd panicked a bit, suddenly self-conscious at the state your nether region might be in. "I mean I bathed today but maybe i-"

He cut you off with a gentle hand running along your thigh comfortingly. "No, No! From that little bit I got you taste divine, it's just uh..." His face was turning red and he looked away embarrassed, it only fueling your thoughts to start running rampant again till he'd spoken again. "I've actually never been with anyone before. I don't want to fuck this up."

After the few seconds of shock wore off you started to laugh a bit. "You mean the great Buggy, who said it'd be an idiot if I slept with anyone besides you, has no experience at all?"

He looked somewhat hurt and defeated as he nodded. Clearly he was beyond embarrassed and nervous in this moment and you'd found it a bit cute. This tough looking pirate that talked a big game about his skills, and had a bounty on his head as well as all the rumors you'd heard of the damage he'd do to any town he'd dock in, was now kneeling inches away from your cunt admitting he had absolutely no experience at all.. Honestly it was making him look a bit pathetic, but damn did that turn you on.

You sat up a bit and cupped his cheek, a few tears had formed in his eyes as a result of his own mind worrying you'd laugh him out the room and tell everyone just how pathetic he was. He worked so hard to get himself this far and honestly it terrified him to have it all ruined by one bad encounter, or even worse he put on a bad performance when it counted the most right now.

"Buggy, please look at me." Breaking out of his thoughts and obeying your request he turned to meet your gaze, much more tender then he'd expected it to be. You rubbed your thumb along his cheek as you began to speak again. "I'm sorry I teased you. It's okay, honestly everyone is beyond nervous they're first time. I'm not bothered by you not having any experience, In fact I'm a little honored I'll be your first."

His eyes lit up at that. "Really?"

You smiled warmly at him. "Yea I can show you how best to please someone. Plus I'll have the satisfaction of knowing I was the first to sleep with The Fantastically Flash Buggy."

He laughed a bit at that and thanked you.

"Here give me your hand Bug." You guided his fingers to your clit, showing him the best way to stimulate it. "Mm rub gentle circle like this. Always remember it's a bundle of nerves not a door knob your trying to polish."

After guiding his fingers for a minute you'd let I'm try for himself, and damn he was learning quick. You had to fight moans as you began instructing him on how to finger next. Telling him it's not all about in and out movements or speed but more so about finding the spots that bring your partner the most pleasure.

"Sorry if I'm a little eager but can I try using my mouth more on you, I cant get that flavor of you I sampled earlier out my head." He had asked and you had to restrain yourself from practically shouting yes before he'd even finished speaking.

If he was already learning and figuring out all you'd taught him already was any kind of sign of what's to come, that what's to come would surely be you. You gave him a few tips but ultimately let him somewhat learn through experimenting.

He started out giving slow licks over your clit, swirling his tongue a bit over it, before moving down to tease your entrance. Earning plenty of moans and whimper in approval of his actions his tongue slowly slid into as far as it could go then back out. Buggy built up a rhythm of movements with his mouth, he was really starting to feel he was getting the hang of it till he had heard you mumble something bout his nose.

Halting his feasting he looked up at you. "What's wrong? Am I doing something wrong, is my nose bothering you?"

You should your head, panting a bit. "No, you're doing great, your nose was just starting to run against me and it was driving me crazy.. in a good way though!"

Buggy smiled and made a comment about how his big nose was good for something before he returned to feasting on you once more. He was dangerously good at this despite never having done this before, and he was quickly bringing you to the edge. Your hands tangled into his long blue locks, gently pushing and encouraging him to not stop his current actions.

"Mmm, Buggy~ don't stop please, I'm so close~" Your pleading moans only served to encourage him more, his nose rubbing against you a bit quicker as he ate you out with seemingly more hunger.

You came undone against his face, gripping tightly on his hair. Of course being the gentleman he was he licked you clean, savoring your taste and storing the memory of it away for later. Standing up, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as his other hand undid his pants.

"Would you like me to return the favor babe?" You asked, sitting up to help him free himself from his pants.

"No need, I desperately need to be inside you right now." He sat down on the bed, motioning you to straddle him.

Your own desperation to feel him fueling you to quickly hop on his lap facing him. You pressed your folds against his member grinding against it as you began to kiss him. Groans spilled from his mouth and into yours as you teased him, his hands gripping your waist with enough force that you were sure would leave bruised later.

Breaking away from the kiss you guided the head of his cock to your hole, slowly sliding down on it till his whole length was buried inside you. "Let me get us started, you just take notes and enjoy for a while."

He nodded, a groan rumbling from his throat as you began to move. You started with a slow pace so he could get use to the feeling of your walks around his dick without overwhelming him or causing him to bust too soon. He whined a bit, begging you to move faster, you obliged bouncing on him at a quicker pace that earned plenty of noises from both of you.

God was his dick good, sure you were doing the work but honestly you didn't mind if it meant being able to feel him inside you. He was hitting all the right spots and thanks to your pace he was hitting them with perfect timing.

He halted your hips with his hands, causing you to look confused at him. "Sorry I just can't hold back anymore, this feels too good." With that he flipped the pair of you over. Now you were on your back with him pressing your legs up to your chest with him kneeling between them. " I just really need to pound you into the mattress right now."

With that he started thrusting himself into you at a dangerously pleasureful pace. You couldn't help but practically scream out his name and strings of curses as he seamlessly hit your gspot with perfect precision and force.

"Fuck you feel so much better than anything I could have imagined. God your gonna practically milk the cum outta me sweetheart." Buggy groaned giving a few harsher thrusts as he spoke, never breaking the rhythm he had though.

It was growing increasingly clear that neither of you would be able to last must longer, though Buggy was determined to make you finish first as his hand slipped down play with your clit the exact way you'd taught him too earlier.

"Damn you learn quick Buggy." Your words brought a shit eating grin to his face. "I'm gonna~"

He silenced you with a passionate kiss, moans spilling between your mouths as you came undone, the feeling of you cumming around him caused him to follow you soon after.

After his hips had stopped and you'd both come down from your respective highs, Buggy laid down beside you quickly pulling you into his arms.

"I'm only gonna say this once, Thank you for not only being my first but also somewhat teaching me." Some embarrassment was evident in his tone but you figured it wasn't worth it to tease him about it after all he'd just done.

"Bit of a shame to know you'll use that knowledge to pleasure other people besides me now." You closed your eyes, growing tired from the day as well as the alcohol still running in your system.

You heard him choke a small bit. "Are you implying you're jealous at the thought of me being with anyone else now?"

"..night.." Sleep was taking you now and there was nothing that could be done about it.

"How dare you fall asleep without answering me!" He knew there was nothing he could do to stop it though as he heard you softly snoring against his chest. He sighed in defeat. "Good night sweetheart."

[luxsf]

Can people please stop shipping Sal and Larry PLEASE. They are BROTHERS. I get that they are not blood related but THEY SEE EACH OTHER AS BROTHERS!!!!! Its just weird to ship them. Also I see that when people point out why it is weird to ship literal BROTHERS (i will never get over this shit istg) People will say things like "well they are just step brothers so its okay..."I HAVE EVEN SEEN PEOPLE SAYING SHIT LIKE "Everyone has had feelings for a step sibling at least once" like WHAT?????? As a person who has 5 step siblings NO. YOU GUYS ARE WEIRDDDDDDD!!!! Also wouldn't this be considered a "Proship" Because I don't see as many people calling it that. But it definitely is one. I feel like the whole "Being attracted to your step siblings or adopted siblings" thing is wayyyy to normalized. It is really gross tbh. Also Does anyone wanna be mutuals??? Idk how to make them so im just gonna ask lol.

[hey-heigo]

saw ur vents abt dungeon meishi and while I haven’t read the series yet or watched the anime I have seen bits and pieces and already saw the blowup scene where Toshiro attacks Laois and like. even I with zero context didn’t totally hate him. It sucks majorly that it had to happen but like. Toshiro is going through his own shit and plenty of other characters ALSO don’t like Laois! I think people just see that scene and project the amount of times that’s happened to them with someone in real life, which like. I get it. I’m autistic and reading that scene hit like a gut punch bc it was something I had experienced directly in real life: trying to be friends with someone, thinking you are friends, only for them to reveal one day that they couldn’t stand you and hated your guts from day one. You wonder why the fuck they pretended and let you hurt even worse than outright initial rejection. You wonder why they’d put themselves through enduring you. It makes you feel like you can’t trust anyone, makes you feel like utter shit. I 100% get why it bothers people. But you can’t project real life people you experienced onto this character that does not align at all except for this one moment. Also knowing about the author, she probably put that in on purpose as commentary for how autistics in Japan generally have to go through shit like this bc of the way their social culture is. She’s made plenty of autistic commentaries before, I doubt she stuck that scene in there for no good reason. The fact that Toshiro kept quiet and didn’t say anything until he couldn’t take it anymore is VERY indicative to me of the ways Japan’s typical social system is a struggle on all sides. Not to say these are problems unique to Japan, but the nuance needs to be understood. Toshiro isn’t being a dick just for the sake of it. I want to read it sometime so I can better understand the guy, but I don’t want to hate him based on one scene where he was an asshole. Laois is an asshole plenty of times himself, being very overtly written as autistic doesn’t absolve him from the responsibilities of being an adult.

TLDR: People tend to infantilize Laois and demonize Toshiro, which comes down to the prejudices preconceived for both of them: people see Laois, as an autistic man, as an innocent sweet guy who needs to be protected. They see Toshiro, as an Asian man, as someone who should be “polite and honorable” or whatever and are appalled when he acts like a fallible human being and not some appropriation of a fictional romanticized samurai. I understand feeling betrayed and angry seeing a character be a genuine asshole about something (social expectation does not completely absolve Toshiro of his own antagonizations however much of a reason he had) but when it’s so damn one sided, and especially in a series where almost NO one is without complete asshole qualities that round them out, I find it kind of gross that people hate on him for that. Anyway. Just wanted to send a message of support and understanding. Hopefully after I read more I can offer more analysis to corroborate with you on.

100% CORRECT thank you anon

i also understand the people who are sympathizing with laios bc that scene is very easy to relate to for many autistic or otherwise neurodivergent people (i also got a cold sweat when i was watching it bc. like. having someone you thought was a friend straight up tell you there are parts of your behavior that they can't stand is one of the worst things to experience of all time, ESPECIALLY if you were only showing that behavior around them bc you thought they were your friend and you trusted them) but it's so frustrating seeing so many people have such shallow opinions about toshiro bc of it. im on hands and knees begging people to consider the characters in three dimensions and/or develop better reading comprehension because like!! toshiro's official meeting with laios's new group literally leads with 'oh his name is actually toshiro and we never knew bc our leader had a misunderstanding and microaggressed him and he was too polite to correct him' laios is not an innocent party here!! he is not an innocent uwu autistic baby he's a grown adult man with responsibilities, in that whole time he was partied with toshiro he never learned his real name!! plus using toshiro's crush on falin as a reason to hate him, falin's adolescence was spent in a school and a social setting where she was expected to mask + her being a girl also means she is expected to mask by default -> she is better at masking than laios so why are people saying that toshiro hates laios for the same traits in falin bc clearly not?? also saw one person saying 'he only likes falin because she's hot' NO HE DOES NOT HE WOULD NOT RISK HIS LIFE HEALTH AND RETAINERS IN A DUNGEON ON A FOREIGN CONTINENT FOR THE SAKE OF A WOMAN HE ONLY THOUGHT WAS SEXY!!! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DUNMESHI FANS THINK WITH YOUR BRAAIN

the whole fight he had with laios where laios points out that their party is more serious about finding falin and resolving everything also drives me nuts because i've seen at least one take saying that toshiro doesn't care about falin as much as team laios because of this. which yes the fact that team laios understands the importance of health in pursuit of a goal is very very important but for many cases in east asian culture (and actually any culture with emphasis on capitalism and economic growth) productivity will get valued above all else which leads to neglect of personal health, i.e: what toshiro was doing. so this is just a clown take to begin with

also interesting to me that almost every character in dunmeshi thus far has demonstrated some kind of racial bias/misconceptions (i.e: chilchuck about elves, senshi about half-foots, etcetera etcetera) and laios and falin are no exception. race and racial differences and conflict and coexistence is also one of the underlying themes in dungeon meshi, with the elves of the west being considered a major issue to many dungeon-goers and the mayor hating dwarves and having to contend with those elves, and then marcille's motive for studying black magic and even thistle's motive for being the dungeon keeper. so it's real fucking ironic that the fans are really quick and happy to demote toshiro to 'asshole side character who is bullying our autistic rep' instead of, you know, using nuance and thinking about it

tldr; dungeon meshi has great commentary on what it's like as an autistic person in society. but dungeon meshi fans are too quick to write off toshiro as an asshole japanese guy who is ableist and getting in the way of their white woman yuri, therefore helping to promote this website's enduring legacy as the piss-poor reading comprehension website

[valyrfia]

We talk a lot about weird shippers behavior and all that fandom etiquette and all that, which is right. But not enough about the people that get borderline violent towards lestappen. Because why are people on twitter lowkey having a meltdown over that meme video. Saying stuff like "omg he's so done with that already 😭" like yeah of course, it's an overused meme. But like it's not that deep, I'm sure he just, sighs and moves on?? And people get lowkey weird about it like "He's tired, he's angry 😡". Idk. Or the typical "lestappies are so delusional, they don't even talk to each other" like okay?? what's the problem then? If it's SO delusional, why don't you just, ignore it? But anyways, some people that are so fervently against it are kinda weird too. Because, me for example don't see why people would like Landoscar so much, it's one of the most rancid ships for me, yet I would never be so loud about it because what do I care??. Idk. Also you should see the quotes in some post that could be just a picture of them two, is like people get triggered or something (???

Twitter for me generally is something to avoid because it’s so ill-suited to fandom. Stuff that’s considered more controversial is always going to get more interactions because of the algorithm so people tend to cry about RPF being “morally wrong” and then use ships to interaction bait anyway. Don’t get me wrong RPF is definitely a grey area but tumblr in general has always been slightly more adult about it because it’s its own self-contained ecosystem. None of you know my real name or my face and we’re going to keep it that way. None of you know my follower count and we’re going to keep it that way. None of this is done for interactions it’s all done because we LIKE being here and know this is a safe space for something that yeah, is a little weird, but the self-containment means that the chance of us doing any sort of harm is practically zero.

I saw a tweet the other day being like “omg im so scared to have 16 and 33 in my bio because I just like them I don’t want people thinking I want them to fuck nasty because that’s gross” and I’m just—I would be willing to bet an extraordinary amount of money that person reads RPF. I would be willing to bet similar for a huge amount of people leaving lestappen “hate”. It comes from some misplaced sense of justice to “police” RPF and it being more important for an individual to be seen to be “morally correct” than protecting a community who really, isn’t harming anyone and just trying to keep to ourselves. I’m definitely not walking around in my everyday life telling everybody about how I think Max and Charles are #truesoulmates, in fact I have friends who are very chronically offline who I often chat about F1 with and I would never DREAM of telling them about this blog or expressing anything I say here because I know the only time and place for that remains either with my friends I’ve met through here or on here.

TLDR: Twitter is filled with people who need to be seen as morally right and for some reason have decided that Lestappen is their current crusade of choice, despite the fact all that really does is increase visibility of the ship to people who may be involved. I would just try your best to ignore it.

[genderqueerdykes]

so im transmasculine nonbinary and identify a lot with masculinity and butchness, im also over a year on T. i dont consider myself a woman at all, but i find that my attraction to women feels FAR more like being a lesbian than being straight. at the same time, i prefer not to label my sexuality because lesbian isnt a term i want to use, but i did use it when i was younger. is it weird that i still want to date queer women who ID as lesbians sometimes? it makes me feel predatory when im attracted to lesbians, like those cis guys who think they can "fix them," but its really not my intention to be gross.

nope that's not weird!

i really need to stress the amount of nonbinary & transmasculine people who feel this way, it's really not uncommon or weird! i know this website is heavily populated by terves but this is such a common part of the butch & lesbian experience that it's totally normal and SHOULD be accepted! it's okay if you want to use the term lesbian for yourself, and it's okay that you want to date people who identify as lesbians! there's nothing here stopping you from doing so!

again the overlap between transmasculine and lesbian identities is so strong, not every single transmasc person is a butch lesbian and not every single butch lesbian is transmasculine or a trans man, but the overlap is so high that it's totally normal for this to happen and it's a beautiful thing to embrace! you're not being predatory, you're just expressing the fact that your attraction is sapphic- sapphicism and lesbianism are not locked or tied to genders. nonbinary people especially may do whatever they please, but even male identifying people can in fact have these identities! nothing wrong with that!

hope that helps! good luck in figuring yourself out! it sounds like you know what you're about! go ahead and use what feels comfortable, you're not hurting anyone, especially if you inform wheover you'd like to date about how you identify up front- if they choose to date you, you're not being predatory, that is an agreed upon relationship! it's not predatory to want to date people you're attracted to. take care of yourself!

[j-nor]

i saw you collect clown shit I'm being a clown for Halloween can I see 👀

SCREAMING AND CRYING!!!! YES ID LOVE TO SHOW YOU!!! IM BEING A CLOWN FOR HALLOWEEN TOO!!! THANK YOU FOR ASKING ME ABOUT MY CLOWN STUFF <333333333

This is my clown suit, which is hand-made out of 2 colorful blankets and a pillowcase, i free handed most of it and also hand stitched about 60% of it because my sewing machine broke mid-project. (Just a heads up while we’re still at the top, this post is gonna be loooooooooooong and have a lot of pictures, also sorry for how gross the carpet looks he’s just like that)

This is my circus tent juice box

This is my costume drawer, where I cram as much stuff as I can fit, it’s pretty full so I’ll just show you my favorite stuff.

These are the highlights, my googley-eye ring, the first clown mask I made, the first party hat I made, my diy ruffled wrist cuffs and collar, and my jewelry hoard.

These are my clowns, which are both hand sewn, they’re names are Butterbean (left) and Corn (right). Butterbeans face was smudged by some water, I’ll get around to fixing it soon.

These are all the little trinkets I keep with them, things I find that I consider clownish. Most of these were picked up from dollar stores, thrift stores, stoop sales, giveaways or relatives homes. There’s a lot so I’ll just show my favorites.

These are my rubber reptiles, my tardigrade and monster finger-puppets, my wind up toys, and some bouncy balls and jingle bells.

This is my doorway decoration.

These are my other accessories that don’t fit in the costume drawer. My collection of silly sunglasses, my second favorite vest, this lovely sweater, and of course the essential clown nose and bow tie.

These are my clown shoes. These rubber boots have tragically become far too small for me, so I’m saving them untill my cousins are older. The rainbow sneakers are only for special occasions because they hurt my feet and Im trying to protect the color.

Land lastly, this is my favorite sculpture, I made it a few years ago.

All these were collected over the past 3ish years, a-lot of pieces were hand made or found in cheap stores, when I go out I keep my eyes peeled for anything clownish and that’s why I’ve managed to grow my hoard so large lol. If anyone reading wants to use the pictures for something (a mood board, a collage, whatever), tag me so I can see it!!!! Thanks for sending me this ask :o) I literally jumped out of bed as soon as I got it because I am a weapons-grade weirdo and love to talk about clowns

Have a lovely day and a happy Halloween!!!