#isn't this exactly what this blog is here for?

[thewalrusespublicist]

Hello! Love your blog and your takes, objective and sane and well researched chefs kiss! I had a blast scrolling through it like it was my feed yesterday lol can you elaborate on klaus and Paul if possible? People mostly talk about them like it’s already understood but I don’t understand 😭 I’m kinda lost on their (all of them, including stu) dynamic during the hamburg years specifically when it comes to Paul

Aww thank you anon! Tbh I was starting to feel a bit down about my blog and what I was putting out ( the eternal crisis on how to give full answers and opinions without being stupid, boring and annoying lol). So I really, really needed this. :)

Oh Paul vs/and the Exsis, it's quite a long one so buckle up.

Disclaimer: all of the people involved are essentially art kids/young adults who are famously the most exhausting people on the planet. Do not blame them for being dramatic, it's their natural state of being.

If we want to go into Paul and Klaus, we have to kind of start with the John, Paul and Stu. Now these three are a mess that's too big to go into here (though I have THOUGHTS about how Stu is utilised in the Beatles narrative that I'm more than happy to share if asked lmaooo). But in short(ish):

John and Paul had had an intense year and a bit of closeness. Then John meets Stu at art college.

John and Stu become c l o s e for many reasons (being peers, living together, similar artistic leanings + ego, Stu being a gentle guide to John, sharing art projects/poetry/long letters and feelings etc.) They became 'closer than two men' a friend had seen (remind us of anyone gang?). Most importantly, John could be open about his feelings with Stu in letters. If John had BPD which I subscribe too, I think Stu was his 'favourite person' and as Aunt Mimi said his 'special' and 'closest friend' from this period up until his death (though imho the transference back to Paul was starting prior to his death).

It's not clear what exactly happens as there's differing accounts but Stu uses his money to buy a new bass as John wants him to come to Scotland then Hamburg and play bass as he will 'look good'.

Paul doesen't like being relegated to the seat behind John and Stu when he used to sit next to John. He also isn't thrilled when he gets to Hamburg and not only does he get to sleep in the other room with just Pete but Stu cannot be arsed to play because he's hanging out with his hot new girlfriend Astrid (more on her in a sec). Our boy has spent a lot of money he doesen't have and given up on further education to be here and is jealous and annoyed.

Paul and Stu probably were friends and I think their mutual antipathy is overegged. HOWEVER, can't be denied that Paul is jealous of Stu and Stu is jealous of Paul (and getting flare-ups from increasing brain damage). John and Stu tease Paul and steal his money, Paul is mean to Stu (as are the others encouraged by John). Do I think John was playing games with both of them? Yup. They end up scuffling onstage because Paul said something about Astrid (not clear what, one account is that Paul said that Stu could borrow money off Astrid if he needed it which isn't really that bad a dig but who knows Yoko??).

Why is this dynamic important? Because it directly impacts the 'Exsis' (Klaus, Jurgen and Astrid's) group's relationship with Paul:

The Exsis were young artists living in Hamburg. They were artistic, cool, interesting and edgy. They were paramount in introducing the Beatles to cool new concepts, aesthetics and ideas. They also took themselves VERY seriously ie pretentious as all hell.

Astrid met Stu at Kaiserkeller and hit it off. They embarked on an all-consuming romance.

Letter from Stu to Astrid, c.1961

I've seen people say they were the proto-John and Yoko in terms of making their romance the whole world and influencing John years down the line and I can see that. With Astrid and Stu it's far more endearing though because they ARE young and the right age to have a relationship like that. Stu is popular with the Exsis in general and brings them into the Beatles group.

The Exsis didn't like or trust Paul. Astrid said later it was because Paul was 'too nice' which she herself admits is a ridiculous reason. The others also thought he was a bit of a show-off. It makes sense though if you're cool and edgy and want to stick it to the world to be sus about a guy being friendly show-off with seemingly no inner world. The other problem was a perfectly reasonable one imo, you're not going to like your friends frenemy who you don't connect with. Compound that with Paul not taking drugs as much as George or John and being in the other room and you begin to have a division.

Paul had been popular his whole life, like from what we know since-primary-school-popular. He had never been in this position before, let alone in a foreign country. I believe it became a bit of a brutal feedback loop. Paul's response to this type of behaviour consistently it to go more surface level, snide and passive aggressive. The natural response of any group with a designated 'ugh' person is to become more shady and exclusionary. The cycle continues and gets worse. Stu letters back home at this time says that in a shocking turn of events Paul is hated by everyone but Stu 'just feels sorry for him' (lmao OF COURSE you do Stu, its giving 'loathing' from Wicked lol). Klaus drew a lot of artwork of the early Hamburg Beatles that includes this highly unpleasant picture of Paul in 1961 which I think says a lot:

Klaus is also a musician and fancies himself a place on bass. When Stu leaves to pursue art, Klaus asks John if he could take over but John says that he thinks Paul is going to do it.

Klaus has later gone on to say that he thinks he was a better bass player for the Beatles' sound at the start and then Paul developed into being better for the group. It's one of those I cannot believe those words actually left your mouth and you are not deeply embarrased moments. But it's important to keep this desire and viewpoint in mind.

Klaus stays in touch with all of them and close to John and George, George especially. They visit Klaus on holiday in tenerife in early 60s and Klaus later draws the Revolver artwork.

This whole context of how they met and Hamburg is crucial and has to be taken into account when hearing Klaus' statements. Klaus and Paul started off with a lack of connection and with Paul on the outs, the Exsis got an incomplete view of Paul and an inaccurate snapshot of the Beatles dynamic overall. This is why when Klaus says 'Paul was always slightly apart from the others' and that 'divorce was inevitable' from early 60s we should remember that that is what Klaus is expecting to see as that's what he saw in Hamburg.

Klaus wanted to be the bass player (and was holding out hope to join a band with George and John in the 70s), was really close with George and suffers as many did with 'John Lennon aspiring boy bestie syndrome' (JABBS). Paul had what Klaus wanted and from the Hamburg experience, you could see why Klaus thought he might have an in and may have been jealous of this 'shallow' Paul of all people having the connection that he felt he should/could have with John and George. As with most sufferers of JABBS, he took John's side with everything, always refused to say any regrets about his involvement in How do you Sleep and thought Paul was fine with the song because 'he was even closer to John than [he] was. (Again Klaus to put yourself in that level of closeness with John that it's comparable to Paul is ???.) JABBS and its secondary condition PMIETGSH (Paul McCartney isn't even that good shut up) are virulent diseases that incapacitate sufferers objectivity and judgement, so it's fair to say that Klaus is a source you have to take with a pinch of salt on the early 70s period.

It seems that Klaus and Paul did get on a lot better the older they got (probably without the jealousy complication of George and John) and developed a sweet friendship. Here is Klaus' tribute to Paul for his 80th:

Here is the jam session he's talking about:

He now wants Paul to live in his house lmao so things have gotten warmer. But Klaus and Paul's dynamic is a great example of how and why natural bias, little jealousies and spats can consciously or subconsciously influence our internal narrative and why we need to be so careful about not taking one perspective as gospel.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hii, I was wondering if you had any recs of a writer/author John au. I've found some of author Sherlock, but none of John except his blogging that he does normally. if you don't do recs anymore or don't feel like answering feel free to ignore and have a lovely day! <3

Hi Nonny!

Oh I'm still doing weekly lists, I just don't get many asks for them anymore so I feel like y'all don't like them anymore LOL. BUT!! Your ask is a fantastic excuse to use your ask as a list prompt since I don't have one ready for today!! I actually find the opposite, that there seem to be more "writer John" fics more than the other way around, especially as I've been going through my lists.

That said, I've done a tag search for "writer" and "author" on my offline lists, and here's what I got! Hope you enjoy and as usual, if anyone has any fics that they would like to suggest, please add them below!!

WRITER / AUTHOR JOHN

BOOKMARKS

A Gossamer Dream by CarmillaCarmine (E, 15,985 w., 4 Ch. || Writer/Teacher AU || First Meetings, Friends to Lovers, Writer John / Teacher Sherlock, Fluff, London, Holding Hands, Online Friendship / Romance, Phone Sex, Anal Sex, Happy Ending, Alternating POV, Scottish John, Online Relationship, Internalized Homophobia, Hand Holding, Forehead Touching, First Kiss/Time, Texting/Sexting, Rimming, Toplock, Sherlock Speaks French) – Sherlock had never realised one could care so much about someone they'd never met in person. Now he is about to meet the friend with whom he's been chatting online for months and his anticipation is reaching a crescendo. Part 19 of Johnlock Smut (with Feels)

Being John Watson-ish by elwinglyre (E, 69,902 w., 17 Ch. || Bodysnatcher AU || Author John, Cranky Sherlock, Angst, Sexual Tension, First Kiss / Time, Falling in Love, BAMF John, Past Soldier John, Feelings, Inside Someone’s Brain, Shy Sherlock, Sherlock Loves John, POV Sherlock, Switchlock, Slow Burn, Internal Dialogue, Mental Turmoil) – When consulting detective Sherlock Holmes steps on one toe too many at a crime scene, he's consigned to a desk job in an archaic office on the seventh-and-a-half floor of the New Scotland Yard. It’s in this bleak office that Sherlock discovers a portal into the mind of renowned author John Watson. Grander than his mind palace, this new wonderland affords Sherlock new vistas of experimentation. To learn more about the mystery behind the portal, Sherlock seeks out and befriends Watson. But then it all goes wrong when others find the secret portal door—including the man whose brain he visits.

MARKED FOR LATER

Exposition - An Ex Files Special by 7PercentSolution (T, 7,643 w., 12 Ch. || POV Second Person, Angst, Bereavement, Poetry / Haiku, Hallucinations, Writing as Therapy) – John's a writer. However much Sherlock derided the blog, people read what he writes. After the fall, John's writing takes a surprisingly different approach. This sets the context for a series of chapters, each one including a different poem by John. Part 4 of Ex Files

keywords: Gay, Loving, Boyfriends by lookupkate (E, 17,771 w., 17 Ch. || Doctor John AU || Alternate First Meeting, Hospitals, John Writes Smut, Sherlock Reads Smut, Fanfiction) – John starts writing gay romance while holed up in hospital. Sherlock reads the first fic on accident, and it sticks with him for days. He can't help but read more from the unknown writer. Little does he know, the writer isn't exactly unknown to him. The writer happens to be the A&E Doctor he's feuding with. Christ, can you imagine what he'll think once he finds out? 

Dead Letter Office by a_different_equation (M, 20,364 w., 15 Ch. || ‘Bartleby’ Fusion / Office Setting AU || Different First Meeting, Epistolary, John's Blog, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pre-Canon, John Watson is Sherlock's Boss, PTSD John, Military Backstory, Writer John, Drug Use, Texting) – John Watson comes home from the war, gets a new job and meets Sherlock Holmes through Mike Stamford. Same tale since 1891, except this time it’s 2008, John is Sherlock’s boss, and they work together at the Dead Letter Office in London. It's not a love story, until it finally is.

The Reawakening of John Watson by  221b_careful_what_you_wish_for (E, 20,463 w., 14 Ch. || Historical 1800s American/Victorian AU || Artist Sherlock, Writer John, Angst with Happy Ending, Bisexual John, Period Typical Homophobia, Sensuality, Experienced Sherlock, Pining, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Love Confessions, Flirty Sherlock, Frottage, Outdoor Sex, Trust Issues, Minor Character Death, Sexual Tension, Colorado / London, Rimming, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs,  POV John) – Trying to escape his troubled past in England, John Watson has started a new life in the American West. When he meets the handsome artist Sherlock Holmes, a smoldering attraction is sparked, complicating his quiet, carefully guarded existence. Maybe taking a risk with Sherlock is exactly what John needs to feel alive again...

The Key to Castles in the Air by LadyKailitha (T, 34,365 w., 21 Ch. || Author AU || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Bratty Sherlock, Damaged Sherlock, Romance, Shop Clerk/Writer John) – John is a clerk (and writing a book on the side) at a bookshop run by Mrs Hudson. The one downside to this perfect job is Sherlock Darling, Mrs Hudson's friend who loves to rile John up. About everything. All that changes when they are forced to spend a week together in the country when bad weather hits. Sherlock's got secrets. What will John do once he finds them out?

There I Saw You, Night by esplanade (T, 54,073 w., 12 Ch. || Writer AU || Poet Sherlock, Writer John, True Love, Sherlock's A Mess, Conversations, John's Family) – "It wasn't as if he had stopped writing entirely. Quite the opposite, in fact. It was just that most of what he wrote ended up thrown into the fireplace at home. What was the sense in keeping something that was sub-par?"

This Is Your Song by agirlsname (E, 79,990 w., 19 Ch. || Moulin Rouge Fusion || Prostitute Sherlock, Poet John, Acting, Singing, Dancing, Writing, Poetry, Musical, Song Fic, Heavy Angst, Unreliable Narrator, Sherlock is French, Love at First Sight, UST, First Kiss/Time, Frottage, Coming in Pants, Anal Sex, Switchlock, Clothed Sex, Crossdressing, Secret Relationship, Forbidden Love, Jealousy, Terminal Illnesses, Grief/Mourning, Breakup/Makeup Sex, Past Drug Use, Attempted Rape, Canon-Typical Violence)– When John Watson is invalided home from the army in 1895, he moves to Paris to rediscover his writing and find a new meaning in life. His old friend Stamford invites him into a group of artist friends, and suddenly John finds himself auditioning to write a show for the famous brothel across the street. There, he meets the most beautiful man he’s ever seen - Sherlock, the star of the Moulin Rouge. But Sherlock is already promised to the investor of the show, the rich Duke Moriarty.

A Case of Identity – The Musical by shamelessmash (E, 83,147 w., 15 Ch. || 1950′s Hollywood AU || Musical, Case Fic, Undercover as an Actor, Dancing, Happy Ending, Kidnapping, Drugs, Fluff and Angst, Humour, Writer/Director John, Slow Burn / Romance) – A mysterious death on set causes chaos in Stamford productions latest movie. With the premiere date left unchanged, they must find a new lead actor and reshoot an entire movie in two months. Sherlock Holmes goes undercover as a lead actor in a Musical: a juggling act to solve a murder while singing, dancing and charming his way through 1950s Hollywood. The last thing he expected was to fall in love with the screenwriter along the way. Or as I like to call it: the case where Sherlock finally gets to dance.

WORKS IN PROGRESS

Children of the Revolution by BadNewsForBrainWork (E, 7,655+ w., 4/? Ch. || WiP || Moulin Rouge AU || Prostitution, BDSM, Multiple Pairings) –  John is an English writer travelling to the small village of Montmartre in Paris, France is hopes of taking part in the Bohemian Revolution. As soon as he arrives, he gets swept up by the revolutionaries and taken to the Moulin Rouge where he meets Sherlock Holmes. He quickly finds himself caught in a dangerous love triangle that could risk his entire career and maybe even his life.

Wood and Wicker by HardlyFair (M, 14,114+ w., 3/8 Ch. || WW2 Historical AU / Hot Fuzz AU || BAMF John, Case Fic, Secret Societies, Secrets, Romance, Humour, Action, Writer John, Murder Mystery) – 1946. Sandford, England. Following the second World War, Sherlock Holmes accepts an unwanted case far in the English countryside to investigate a string of grisly deaths. Problems arise when it becomes clear that no one thinks anyone has been murdered at all, that nothing outside a series of unfortunate accidents has transpired, and that nothing untoward is afoot in Sandford -- no one, save for a small-time columnist from the local newspaper.

Christmas in Honeycutt by helloliriels (T, 27,950+ w., 14/23 Ch. || WIP || Christmas in Connecticut AU / WWII AU || Kidnapping, Spies / Secret Agents, Codes & Ciphers, Past Relationships, Developing Relationship, Fake Marriage, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending) – John's publisher asks if his family could entertain a war hero at their idyllic estate in Somerset for Christmas. Only ... John doesn't have a wife ... or a daughter. Or an estate. He has a bedsit. In London. And some wounds of his own to recover from ... but he can't tell his publisher that or he'll get fired … What's a writer to do? Cracking Codes. Super Spies. Sherlock in Disguise. A wild Christmas romance set in the countryside! Just what the doctor ordered! Part 6 of the Liriels Chaptered Fics series

Novel by lifeonmars (M, 50,264+ w., 10/? Ch. || WiP || Author AU || Fairy Tales / Red Riding Hood Elements, Fantasy, Writer’s Block, Falling in Love, Peter Pan References, Slow Burn, Romance, Writer John, Editor Sherlock) – John Watson has writer's block. Sherlock Holmes is the world's best consulting editor. Whether John can write a book is another story entirely.

How Novel Series by StarlightAndFireflies (T, 66,472+ w. across 11 Stories || Series WiP || Writer John / Unilock AU || Book Signing, Flirting, Dating, Shy  Sherlock, Romance, Getting to Know Each Other) – AU in which John is an author, and Sherlock is a fan who comes to his book signing.

[noxthesynners]

It has come to our attention that you wrote this post, and we know exactly which blog this is talking about. We're the system running @editedantiendoposts, and we are a system that has DID, therefore making us traumagenic with a CDD. How about being more specific here? We aren't editing posts from just any person with CDDs, we're editing posts from anti-endos. Mainly anti-endos who post their hate in the plural tags which are inclusive of endogenic and other system origins. And we repost positivity posts without the hateful tags attached to them.

We are so tired of looking at the tags about CDDs to see a good ton of them complaining about or hating on endogenic systems. People can talk about disordered experiences without dragging other system origins into the damn ground, like what you're doing here. We have experienced having things in common with endogenic systems. We all can struggle with life, and then some of us don't. We have felt more unsafe and unwelcome in anti-endo spaces. Anti-endos had us fake claiming ourselves. Anti-endos exclude any system with a CDD that does not agree with them when it comes to hating on endogenic systems, yet you want to claim that endos are invading spaces.

Please tell us how we're invading a space that excludes us for being pro-endogenic? Where's the invasion? Why don't you say what it is, it is exclusion. Pro-endos have to make community with endogenic systems because the anti-endos infesting the CDD community don't want us around because they can't understand how we can be supportive of everyone. Do you know how many pro-endo systems get fake claimed or told they're traitors to people with CDDs because they don't have issues with endogenic systems?

Also, please stop speaking for all of us. We all do not agree with you saying "Endogenic systems and CDDs have nothing in common with each other!" You are not the authority to determine this. Who put you in charge of who has what in common with who. Say that YOU don't have anything in common with them. Quit lumping all of us under your opinion. Not everyone agrees with you.

It's sad how you jumped to the conclusion of "an endogenic system must be writing this blog!" instead of thinking that hey maybe that person has a CDD, which is also you giving us an example of how anti-endos fakeclaim and assume that anyone who is doing anything supportive of endogenic systems must be endogenic themselves.

We're responding to you, so people will know that blog isn't run by an endogenic system at all. We're also responding to you to point out how pro-endogenic systems with CDDs like us get hate for being pro-endo.

Taking and editing posts from CDD systems talking about their experience to make them "endo inclusive" is like (actually just is) taking a post from someone with PTSD talking about their experience with their trauma and making it inclusive to people without PTSD. It doesn't make sense, it's just insensitive.

Endos and CDD systems will always have different experiences. If an endo and a CDD system described their experiences to someone without hiding the bad parts (because being a CDD system comes with bad parts.), you would be able to tell the difference in minutes. To take a trauma survivors post and make it inclusive to people it doesn't apply to is next level "I'm uncomfortable when things aren't about me"

This is what people mean when they say endos invade CDD spaces. You (the people doing this) are making something that isn't about you into something that is because you are so desperate for everything to be about you that you can't stand to see people doing their own things. CDD systems deserve to be able to talk about their experiences EXCLUSIVE TO THEIR DISORDER without making it apply to people who don't have that disorder. That's like expecting someone with autism to make sure they talk about their experience in a way that includes people without autism.

[shahrwrites]

WIP

When Jason started letting the family back into his life—if barely at all—He never imagined old feelings would come bubbling back up to the surface for a certain someone. That it was a nuisance was the least to say about it, specially since he constantly had to put a lid on those emotions to get through a particularly difficult mission paired with Nightwing. A mission which is demanding, which requires them to be most at sync with each other than they ever have been. One that keeps them up nights at a time, exposes sides of them to one another that each is afraid to let the other see. One that grants them tender moments both are reluctant to let go of. It’s at one of those nights that they end up at a secluded niche all to themselves, running high on a little more than adrenalin and emotions long suppressed, that they dare to let go, even if it doesn’t really mean anything.

It was a mistake. Jason knew it was a mistake, and there's a sumly price to be paid for mistakes like this later. Nevertheless, it was a price that, in this very moment, he thought worth paying.

But if he could help it, then he would do anything to lessen the cost.

He drew apart, ragged breathing coming out in titters between them. He held Dick's night-blue eyes, hazy and unfocused with lust as was his own. "This doesn't mean anything." Jason panted.

Dick swallowed visibly, grabbing onto Jason's hair and hastely sealing the distance between their lips once again. "It doesn't mean anything." he repeated.

Right.

That's everything Jason wanted to hear.

Then why did he already feel this weight on his chest dragging him down?

--*--

He let the railing shoulder the brunt of his weight as he lit the cigarette wedged between his lips and took a long drag. There really wasn't much of Gotham to see from his balcony; just the gore and the grime, and everything the more 'sophisticated' scrunched their noses at and turned their backs on; the bad seeds they had sown and left to fester in somebody else's yard.

He scoffed to himself and shook his head, letting his view engulf in the smoke from his lungs. He had funny thoughts sometimes, like how this surely beat the view of his former room at the Manor. It was easy to see why Bruce and everybody else failed to understand his ways. How could he expect them to, when everyday they opened their eyes to a view of lush green grass and blossoming flowers for as far as the eye could see, and Jason had lived in this sludge for as long as he remembered?

Quickly the smoke dissipated, and he had years of training to thank for not yelping at the sight of Dick materializing next to him out of thin air. He did, however, take a moment to adjust, and only then did he notice Dick's penetrating blue eyes trained on his cigarette with pursed lips.

Right. So the sex was nice, but now it's time for all my judgments to go back into play, is that it? That was the deal, always.

Jason wanted to roll his eyes, but how could he deny how only a moment ago he himself had almost shrunk back in embarrassment and tried to somehow erase any evidence of him so much as holding a cigarette between his fingers? He knew it was only an old reflex, but was it not a reflex born out of caring about what Dick thought of him after all?

This was stupid. He was stupid. This whole ordeal, these damn twisted feelings were all fucking stupid, and he was a fool for—

Dick reached toward him, and Jason could do nothing but watch in dumb-struck awe as he stole the cigarette right from between his fingers and took a long drag.

With a glance, Dick grinned at him grimly. "You look surprised,"

Jason was in no mood to attempt denying. "Can you blame me for not believing the Golden Boy was ever capable of such heinous malfeasance?"

Dick only smiled, so unlike those sunny smiles that he shone on everyone else, and let his gaze fall somewhere in the distance, not so shy of the sight he saw. "Seems to me you don't know me half as much as you think you do, Jay."

Jason frowned and looked away, folding in on himself and leaning back onto the railing. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?" he grumbled halfheartedly. He didn't appreciate the meaning behind Dick's words, so often because he didn't let on just how much he could see about a person, and it made Jason feel like an open book before his perceptive eyes.

It made Jason feel scared. To be seen so openly by Dick--He couldn't afford that.

Jason felt a hand brush the hair at his temples, and his eyes snapped to Dick's, looking back at him so tenderly. It was doing things to him. Dangerous things.

There was something in the heat of his gaze, and Jason was sure Dick himself had felt it, too.

"Dick..." he whispered lowly. It was taking all he had in him not to turn into Dick's touch, which was why he dared not speak louder for the fear of his voice breaking, revealing just how much of a charlatan he was. "It wasn't supposed to mean anything, remember?"

Dick's face contorted for a moment so brief Jason must have hallucinated it, and his hand fell away. his eyes fell down between them, "What if I lied?"

He could not have heard that right. "What?"

Dick's shoulders tensed, the muscles in his neck going taut. "What if I lied?" he repeated louder this time, "what if It did mean something to me?"

[purplemagehawke]

New illustration by the current AA art director, Takuro Fuse, to celebrate Edgeworth, Phoenix and Apollo wining the top three places in the Apollo Justice Trilogy popularity poll

[autistic-shaiapouf]

Trying out that "no buy 2025" I've seen people talking about and recalling how much I saved in november after the hurricane blew up my car and starting to feel confident

[basedkikuenjoyer]

Like, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt here that you just care enough about the series to be detailed but just to be clear...if this is some moral angle about officials/scans you are 100% barking up the wrong tree. I don't care, this ain't like my main squeeze One Piece where it's any deeper analysis than first reactions. Something was weird here, two people pointed it out, works for me.

I don't even really think you're wrong about why generally the official version is gonna be better. Just felt like adding the reminder it is fallacious to always go with them simply because they're official. Especially when it doesn't always have to be some shady corporate rationale for wonky official translations. The bulk of what I've come across is just simply over-localization because translation is a tricky business that often requires making a personal judgement call between literal vs. functional accuracy. This isn't the type of thing that needs to be an either/or exercise in taking sides, honestly it's pretty fun peeling back the layers of why something was translated differently though that does require getting ahold of the raw original version which might be harder for a more niche series like WHA. My point though is there's value in multiple translations for anything.

But where I will leave this is just one last thing...once again I'll give you the benefit of the doubt but holy shit please consider how passive aggressive some of this came off in the future. Simply pointing it out like the other comment did was kinda all you needed here. I'm not exactly inclined to listen when it feels like I'm seeing the huge leap from someone using a scanlation for a blog post to assuming they need a lesson on how hard the job of translation is (I have some first hand experience with English/Russian) or that they need a breakdown of simple things like the difference between an interpreter and a translator or the existence of libraries.

I'd melt the same way if someone called me little miss witch. The river rescue was also a nice, low stakes story that was still fun to see play out. Especially how it flows so well into what comes later. But there was one moment that really stood out to me.

I loved this panel. Agete has been the prodigious foil to our plucky main protagonist Coco all this time. And she's been a bit of a meanie too. Which made me not like her. But when we had this moment where she needed to step up and froze? So humanizing while also just being a cool looking panel. I also love the subtle detail of "feminine" magic being derogatory. Which is intriguing in a story centered on four young girls. That contrast to the Agete we've seen as an overachiever and her inner conflict hit so well. But it all worked out in the end.

[a-god-in-ruins-rises]

let's get a little introspective...

i talked to a cute girl last night (over the phone).

beforehand, i warned her that i am a bit weird. not in a creepy way or anything. i'm just a bit strange in a lot of ways that i can't quite articulate. and i don't think she fully appreciated how serious i was. lmao.

for example, i am very quiet and awkward irl. it might come off as a "shyness" but it's not really. to me shyness implies some kind of anxiety or nervousness. i don't really get nervous. i'm just weird. i'm just very reserved by nature. and i speak very little. and i don't really fully comprehend my own thoughts/feelings in a given moment.

she would ask for my thoughts/feelings about a thing and i wouldn't know what to say. because i was still trying to parse my own feelings. and this has been an issue all my life.

i have some inability to comprehend my own emotions. to me, my emotions feel like a constant mess. a turbulent storm or sea. everything is all jumbled together and pulling me in all sorta of directions. and it takes me a great deal of time and effort to really comprehend how i feel sometimes.

and that's the other thing. part of the reason why i don't talk very much irl is because i am a very deliberate person. i like to think about what i'm going to say before i say it.

also i have been socially isolated (irl) all my life so i don't think i was ever properly "socialized" so to speak so i don't always follow social cues and i have been told that i can have a strange way of speaking sometimes. using more formal words and weird grammar and just jumping from topic to topic. especially when i do get talking.

and when do i get talking? either when i trust you, when you get me drunk, or when you bring up a topic i'm very into. and i'm sure this basically applies to everyone. but i promise it applies to me more by a factor of 10000.

i don't know what accounts for my weirdness. i don't know if i'm autistic or schizophrenic or just deeply traumatized or what. but this is just scratching the surface of one aspect (my speech -- or lack thereof) of my weirdness.

[lampadions-pickle]

I think, the longer I work within the framework of the astral, the more I've come to mm not quite loath- but, the term "realm" as a catchall for all spaces being what it is is starting to pester me in Ways.

[orchideae]

1) Opens up drafts with my head empty, ready to be flooded, not knowing where I'll go. 2) 30 seconds later: Okay but I will go feral any day of my life over Perilous Trail, and the fierce dichotomy of Xiao and Yelan. While they're far from being 'the same', they both view themselves as soldiers in one way or another (it's a very difficult word to use for Yelan, so I'm using it very liberally and very loosely), they have both suffered losses on the 'battlefield' and carry the burden thereof in their own ways. And yet they stand so firmly in opposition throughout the entirety of that questline up until the very end of the 'the end of the line' conclusion of the quest. Yes, I know that she offers him her gratitude in its aftermath and it is genuine, but she still never agrees with him and the decision that he made moments earlier. It simply 'worked out' because of Zhongli's interference, he's the only reason it worked out. And it's because of that, that she doesn't give him a hell of a hard time (obviously she can't go down there, but imagine the inner frustration of severe extents; when you condemn someone who you can't even see anymore). In the same way that she would do to anyone who would sacrifice themselves for others, but in this case, I think it's 'beautiful' that it's to Xiao; the one who seems most adamant to do so (which honestly, fits into the contract that the Yakshas chose to sign with Morax; 'the ultimate sacrifice' to protect for Liyue; 'for Liyue', and Liyue has always centered itself around its people), the one who everyone reveres (and so does she, as she notes in her voiceline, 'if I ever have the honor to fight alongside') and respects for good reason, she stands against him, because in that moment, regardless of his status, he makes a call that she considers wrong. And he doesn't even... fight her on it very fiercely, and that's what actually hurts me the most, it's as if the following line hit the nail directly on the head?

"Besides, if you were really so determined to end it all, you wouldn't have given us the opportunity to share our opinions."

[paperbaghero]

I'll be deleting any Ask asking for donations

I do NOT want to accidentally spread Scam/Spam messages on this Blog...

It's why a closed down Ask in the first place.

[dandyshucks]

starting to think maybe i should turn rbs off on that post actually bc im having heart palpitations now fdsjgjkl why is this happening to meeee

[katyspersonal]

I think I didn't send you an ask yet so here !

10, 13, and 24 for now !! :D

(Asks from this ( x ) meme)

10. Your favorite ost?

Oh, this is definitely Living Failures! It was the very first Bloodborne OC I've ever heard though. A friend that played From's games shared it with me and back then I didn't pick instant interest in the game (unlike how when I've heard Micolash's theme...), but the music was AMAZING. It was the coolest videogame soundtrack I've heard in years, and I sat until 5 AM that night listening to that track on repeat. Because it got me so hyped I've lost all sleep, that's why!!! Still remains my favorite track, just... absolutely unrivaled buildup, beautiful instruments, and of course, AAAAAAAVEEEEE AAAAVEEEEE STEEEEELAAAAAAR. When I was obsessed with that track back then I of course could not appreciate the lore significance and how well in conveyed the absolute reverence, anguish, yearning and desperation for salvation from the 'stars', so now I love it even more. It is one of the best tracks in the game, it didn't need to be attached to an epic battle to be epic.

13. A cut content you would have wanted in the game?

God, how this is even a question? Of course, OF COURSE, what else it can be other than...... ARCHIBALD'S [EXAGERRATED LIP-LICKING]-

sdfhfhsghfsd okay okay but seriously now xD There is... a lot of stuff. Almost all cut content of Bloodborne is removed in such an elegant fashion that you can sort of still discover how probable it is it upon vague clues... as if it wasn't removed, but hidden (Rom gurl what you doin THIS time). The perfect example is Annalise's unborn baby whose mention was patched out very early after launch, but you can still conclude it from how both Annalise and Arianna lose melanin in their hair and from that bloody trail leading to Annalise's under skirt area.

(patched out and only saved via screenshots)

However, it is for THIS reason why a lot of cut content of Bloodborne is BETTER stay cut - because it creates a more challenging lore riddle! Isn't it more fun to deduce a lore bit using your own observation and analytical skills, instead of just being told what happened exactly? From Annalise's unborn baby to 'if there is Flora would not there be a counterpart named Fauna?', things better stay untouched and create a mystery!

But there is a different kind of cut content as well, and I am talking about…

( x )

I owe this discovery to @val-of-the-north , and also I believe @nymerias-wrath confirmed this detail (she tends to know absolutely EVERYTHING about cut or patched out content so I'd recommend asking her for any clarification you ever need). It sounds like such a good idea! I presume the lake refers to the one Rom is guarding, and again, a bird chirped to me that you'd end up in the upside-down Byrgenwerth. (I really need to gather more solid sources now that I am talking about it...) I still adopt it in my ideas and make it so that Moonside Lake used to be the portal into the rest of Byrgenwerth (and that's how Edgar found Micolash), but Micolash 'closed' it when Edgar had dick brain moment and spilled him the truth just because he was a simp -_- And sent some of the Shadows he had serving him as Mergo's "dad" as a bonus loool.

Not to mention I fucking L O V E Micolash's cut dialogue soooooOOOOOOO fucking MUCH. Just… everything about it. I am, in fact, not all too happy about how we only meet him in the "end" of his way, already fully insane and gone, when cut dialogue suggests he STILL has a struggle left within him, between his human side and 'madman that only cares for higher plane' side (Adeline moment). It was just… so tragic. Like… I get that after everything player been through, meeting him SHOULD have been a comic relief moment so the player recharges and still has emotional energy to care about plot's culmination… There was just no room for the 'betrayal sequence' I suppose? …except there was, and I think the devs could have elaborated Nightmare of Mensis more, make us see Micolash as a friend NPC that we go back to during Nightmare questlines, someone that grows on us to the point we see him as Doll v.2 (maybe he could even level us up too, or give us special benefits in exchange of Insight). So, instead of recharging player emotionally with hilarity (or annoyance, depends on how you feel towards Micolash's "battle"), we could have been recharged by the fake sense of peace and comfort, see him as someone interested in freeing Mergo just as much… and then HAHA LOOSER GOTCHAAAAAA. The only good thing about the decision to make him more plain is that 'traitor' is the fact that betrayal sequence is THE ultimate imba of Tumblr sexymen, and if he did betray us, he'd have even STRONGER grasp on the simps. o_o hoooo boy… There'd be NO survivors....

24. Share a fond memories.

I presume this must refer to fandomry? Because every single moment of playing Bloodborne is already a good memory. xD Hmmm... I already mentioned that time when I got an anon ask on my 'formal' blog, saying 'can we get random alfred hcs'? I felt extremely honoured that someone wanted ME to share the ideas about a character they liked, especially when back then I was just an awkward asocial lore person in the fandom and didn't pose myself as a writer upon request, or just a writer. It is because I cherish that moment of trust so much I avoid saying unflattering things about Alfred despite having grievances with the character. x) It was just such a good memory that I never get tired of bringing it back!

I also have a very good memory of a certain day. That day I was able to catch my coworker stealing money from the cash register (!) and attempting to frame me (!!!), using nothing but my amazing detective skills, so I was already pretty hyped. I was ranting to Val about it in a VC over phone on my way home. And imagine how much more joy and unhinged happiness I felt, when during VC I opened Tumblr and saw the ask celebrating that 'finally good Doll takes are picking up and people are giving her a justice instead of seeing her as gross sexual object and then claiming to love her'. I am paraphrasing but you must recall that one because you clearly got an ask from the same person xD Just... one "victory" layered upon another, and I've felt such intense mania and CHEER, that the raw power of emotions made that day a blinding, bright spot somewhere in the record of my life. This is what happens to a mf when they barely ever feel real happiness and just pretend to look alive. Maybe it was not a big deal in retrospective, but it made me feel DRUNK in happiness. ...so drunk that my response was not very nice and more like 'HAHAHAHA MFKING LOOOOOSERS WHO IS THE BEST LORE PERSON NOW HUH FUCK YOU ALL I AM FUCKIN BALLIN'' that I still feel a bit guilty about ^^"" But it was one of my best memories nonetheless.

Out of a bit more personal stuff, I'd say that you and @heraldofcrow are a very fond memory, and also @jarognieva . You guys sticked with me through everything, even when I started to genuinely spiral to my worst and fully embraced the prospect of you all being sick of me, you still chose to stay mutuals. Seeing you grow from a shy user to someone with very elaborate ideas and a lot of passion was an absolute delight. And I've got to see how much your art improved over time, and how Crow started to draw. I am just glad that I got to at least see you guys get better and make more friends and improve your skills.... (and seeing how much I rotted Crow's brain with overly specific lore bits when I saw her insane theory ramblings about Vilebloods AHAHAHAHAHA.) Like... just watching you guys was a great experience, getting to talk with you and to exchange the ideas is even more than I could have asked for, but I am very thankful.

Also, of course, my version of Rom getting FANART. I cried pathetic unloved kid happy tears all three times I received it. Two drawings were done by Saintmic and another one was done by someone else who is, eh, a NOT fond memory now, really.

Though honestly, Saintmic was a very good fandom memory as well. I once posted a very creepy, weird remark on Micolash as a character and how he'd corrupt people with his cultist brainwashing..... and after some time I got a reblog from him with even WORSE (/pos) take. I was so surprised to see someone having an idea more disturbing than mine. And it happened later too, when I proposed the idea of Micolash not harming fertile females specifically because of his gross obsession with women and birth, and he added that in fact it was more likely that he just used women for rituals (especially their menstrual blood) when men were just cattle. I am dead serious. The creativity and lore just... increased so much as we were exchanging ideas, my lore got so much better, I actually owe my ultra super fantastic and elaborate portrayal of Micolash to him as inspiration and someone giving ideas and honestly knowing Micolash's very soul. Honestly, you can play a game of 'guess how much of my Micolash lore I owe that guy' and you will lose because you probably not estimate big enough. Ya'll just don't know what it feels like to be a weirdo, to feel avoided and shunned even by fellow Micolash simps for "disturbing" and "not sexy" ideas, to question whether I am just spoiling a beloved character with my monkey brain and then meet someone who just hits a blunt and goes all: 'I smell weakness'.

Basically I've found my Stitch yeah. When you get 'the creepy kid' side-effect in the autism drawbacks fortune wheel, you learn to cherish such things </3

Thank you for the ask!!!

[fruitsyrups]

u ever think like what if there is someone out there who is exactly like me. or close enough. pornbots please leave me alone.

[guiltyasdave]

help me hold onto you

pairing: Logan Howlett/Wolverine x mutant! f!reader

word count: ~3.5k

summary: Logan deals with feeling guilty after he's accidentally cut you with his claws in his sleep.

warnings/tags: explicit smut (-> 18+ only!), able-bodied reader, reader has hair that can be pulled, no use of y/n, Logan lifts reader up but he's superhumanly strong, so-, graphic description of an injury, graphic description of violence, angst, nightmares, Logan's pov, fighting as foreplay, unprotected p in v, rough sex, biting, praise kink, a lot of animalistic behavior due to their mutations, like they're just a little... primal, it's cute i swear, also reader looks like a human being it's just the mannerisms, fluff

a/n: guess i'm a multi fandom writer now? this literally came to me in a fever dream, very much like the logan brainrot itself lol. this is my first time writing for the man, after watching the movies - also for the first time - last week, so please be gentle with me <3 something very similar happens in the origins movie and i wanted them to explore that more, but alas, i had to do it myself.

massive thanks to @kiwisbell for assuring me that this idea isn't terrible and for freaking out about logan with me in general, to @catchallfangirl for coming up with the whole cat theme and for being so supportive, to @sizzlingcloudmentality for matching my freak and taking the cat theme to the next level, for helping me plot and for being an amazing beta reader, and to @javier-pena for listening to me rant about this idea and being so lovely and supportive <3

dividers by @saradika-graphics who is a queen <3

notifications blog -> @guiltyasdavenotifs & full masterlist -> here

Most nights, Logan sleeps easier when you’re in bed with him. Your body pressed against his, your skin soft and warm against his bare chest. One of his thighs between your legs where you’ve wrapped yourself around him, your touch moving over his torso aimlessly, fingers curling into his chest hair, your hands kneading his flesh in your sleep. The soothing little purrs that emit from your chest when you’re sound asleep. None of it bothers him, no matter how many times it disturbs his own rest. 

It keeps him grounded, feeling you next to him. He’d rather spend the whole night somewhere in that haze between waking and sleeping, listening to your sounds, your breath fanning against his skin, than being pulled under into the depths of his subconsciousness. 

He’d rather open his eyes to see you disentangling your limbs from his, stretching your whole body, arching against him as you yawn. 

He’d rather greet you with a smiling “Good morning, kitten,” waiting for that adorable little crease to appear between your brows when you pout up at him. 

“Did I do it again?” 

He doesn’t hide his grin as he nods, growing wider when you flop back against the cushions with a groan. 

“What exactly?”

“All of it.” 

Your sorry comes out muffled as you hide your face behind your hands. 

“It’s okay,” he says, leaning over you to pull your hands away and kiss the pout off your lips. Caressing that spot under your chin with two fingers, watching you go all soft, baring your throat to him. “I like it.” 

He would much rather wake up like this. 

But it’s been a long week and he’s exhausted. Exhausted enough to get lulled into a deep sleep, encased in the safe cloud of your warm body against his and your touch on his skin. Exhausted enough to dream. And his dreams are not a safe place. 

His eyes fly open with a shout, his whole body jolting upwards, every muscle pulled taut. He doesn’t even register the claws shooting out between his knuckles, all of his instincts screaming at him to fight. 

He’s only faintly aware of the sudden yelp of pain from beside him, the movement of something jerking away from him. 

“Logan,” your voice rings through the buzzing in his ears. Smaller hands landing on his shoulders, fighting to hold him steady. 

It takes a few disoriented blinks before he recognizes the familiar bedroom, a few more deep breaths to stop his body from shaking. To clear the fog in his head enough to understand what you’re saying.

“It’s me, Logan. You’re safe, everyone’s safe, it’s okay.” 

His eyes find yours in the semi-darkness. Wide with worry, but firmly trained on his face, repeating that everything’s okay. He finally registers the familiar weight of you straddling him, understands that it’s your fingers digging into his shoulders. 

He’s still panting, not daring to look away from your face again. The one tether that keeps him from getting lost in his mind again. 

“Are you with me?” you ask, your voice softer now. 

He manages a nod, tries to smile, to wipe the deep worry of your face, but he’s not sure if his mouth even twitches. 

As the feeling slowly returns to his body, he notices something else. A kind of wetness, warm and sticky where your right hand is connected to his skin. The unmistakable tang of iron in the air. He stretches to turn on a bedside lamp, jostling you along with his movement. A quiet whimper hits his ears, so low that he’s sure you tried to suppress it. 

With a new kind of panic surging through him, he grabs hold of your arm, bringing it to his eye level. 

Three scratches ooze in deep red, just beneath your wrist. It forces a gasp from him, eyes dancing frantically between the wounds on your arm and your face. How much blood did you lose already while you were busy helping him? As if he deserved it. 

“Fuck, I’m— I’m so sorry baby, we gotta—” He stumbles over his own words, grasping at you almost blindly, panicked tears blurring his vision. He did this. 

“Logan,” you say, still so inexplicably calm. “It’s fine. Look. It’s fine.” 

You gently pry his fingers off your arm and bring your wrist up to your mouth. Your tongue darts out, drawing long licks against your marred skin, collecting the blood and gliding over the cuts in your flesh. 

It pains him to watch, but it’s the least he can do. The least he owes you. He watches you clean the blood off, watches as the wounds start shrinking at the touch of your saliva, as the skin smoothes over before his very eyes until there’s only three thin marks left, a shade lighter than the rest of your skin. 

“Look,” you tell him again, extending your arm towards him. “I told you it’s okay.” 

He knows you can do this, of course he does. Has watched you multiple times, his fascination with your powers never wavering. How fluidly you move, how quick you attack, how skilled you are at surviving. You just never had to survive him. 

You lean down on top of him until your whole torso rests on his, your thighs still on either side of him, burrowing your head into his chest. “Which war did you dream about?” you ask quietly.

Most of the time, the dreams don’t grant him the mercy to zero in on one single memory. It’s a constant stream, one fight after the other, until all he knows is shouting, fighting, blood and death.

“All of them.” 

You sigh deeply, your breath cool against his sweat-dampened skin. Raising your head a little, you start placing kisses on his chest, pressing your lips into his skin where you can feel the faint beating of his heart.

“I wish I could kiss this better, too,” you mumble. 

He chuckles humorlessly, one hand reaching into your hair to scratch at your scalp. You shudder at the touch, an approving little purr traveling up your throat. 

“It’s okay now,” he mutters, leaning in to inhale the scent of your hair. “Just— I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be.” 

It sounds so simple, falling from your lips like this. But it’s no match for the aching guilt that’s already eating at him, the questions of what if that start swirling through his mind. 

Your body is growing heavier on top of him as you relax, your breaths evening out and your eyelids fluttering shut. It soothes him, has his own breathing slowing down, but he can’t risk falling asleep again. Not like this, not with your body so close to his.

“What are you— Logan?” comes your instant protest when he moves you to your side of the mattress, your eyes flying back open, wide and mildly confused.

“I could’ve killed you,” he mutters. It could have happened so easily. Just a little deeper, just a slightly different spot. 

“No, you couldn’t,” you quip, arching an eyebrow at him. “Cats have nine lives, remember?” You sneak another quick kiss on his chest before finding his gaze again, a teasing smile on your lips. “Even kittens.” 

It’s an attempt to lighten the mood, to make him laugh. He knows that. You hate the pet name he’s given you. 

“And you’re not gonna waste one on me,” he grits out. 

Hurt flashes over your face, more pain in your eyes than when there was an actual wound on your arm. 

“It wouldn’t be—”

“Don’t you dare say it wouldn’t be a waste.” 

The words come out as a low growl, aggressive enough to send most anyone running. You don’t run. 

Your animal doesn’t like it when he growls at you. He can feel the tension rolling off of you, your hair probably standing on end. Gritting your teeth, you take a deep breath, release your fingers’ grip from digging into the sheets.

“Let’s talk about it in the morning,” you tell him, resignation in your voice. 

Your eyes fall shut again, your head for once resting on your own pillow instead of his chest. He misses the weight of it instantly. You doze off quickly, your hands still pawing weakly at his side, like your body can’t help it. He almost pulls you closer himself. 

While you sleep, Logan forces his own eyes to stay wide open, staring unseeingly into the darkness. 

It’s a quiet day. You had tried talking to him, tried to convince him that it’s okay, that it’s fine. He can’t keep listening to you insisting that him almost killing you is no big deal. He should have known, should have been more aware of the risk instead of letting himself get lost in the blissful sensation of your body curled around his every night. You’ve trusted him so completely, only for him to let you down. 

Just like he always does, the voice in his head whispers.

No matter how many times you swear that you can take care of yourself, he should still be protecting you, not actively putting you in danger while you’re fucking asleep. It’s happened once now, so it can happen again, and he knows that he could never forgive himself. 

He knows that he’s hurting your feelings. Sees how your brows knit together when he barely kisses you back throughout the day. How you bite your lip when the way you’re butting your head against his doesn’t make him chuckle like it usually does. 

He should be angry at himself. He is. But you shouldn’t be the one to catch the brunt of it, and it makes him feel even worse. You always say that he should talk about his feelings more, that it would help to let them out. He suspects that you’re right. He just doesn’t know how.

By evening, you’ve grown uncharacteristically quiet, but he keeps catching your burning glares at him when you think he isn’t looking. Finally, after you’ve stared at him for what felt like an eternity and he’s pointedly ignored you, you seem to snap.

“Can you stop it?!” It leaves your mouth in a hiss, triggering his instincts before the words even register in his brain. 

“Stop what?” he growls back. 

Your fingers curl as a low snarl escapes you. Normally, neither of you lets your animalistic side take over like that. Normally, you’re good at soothing each other. 

But tonight, he can feel the energy crackle between you, the tension begging to be released. 

“You know what! This fucking— sulking or whatever it is you think you’re doing!” 

He rises to his feet, pulling up to his full height. One of your hands twitches. 

“I’m not—” 

You charge at him with an angry shout before another word can leave his mouth. You’re on him in a flash, grabbing onto his arm and letting your momentum carry you until you’re behind him, your nails digging into his shoulders until you’re perched on his backside. 

Whipping his head around, he bares his teeth at you, growls rumbling in his chest. You angrily hiss in his face and swing a hand at him in return, leaving angry red scratches down his cheek. They heal and fade as quickly as they came, but a triumphant grin flashes over your features regardless. 

“Come on, Logan,” you breathe into his ear. The edge in your voice sends fire straight through him. “Fight. You’re not gonna break me.” Your canines nip at his earlobe, somewhere between affectionate and challenging.

He tries shaking you off, but your grip on him only tightens. He collects a fist of your hair instead, pulling harshly to keep your teeth away from his throat. 

“Enough,” he grits, trying desperately to regain control, to become more human again, to smother the primal need to match your aggression. 

He finally grabs hold of one of your hands as well and manages to rip you off his back and in front of him, holding on tight to your upper arms to keep you in place. You’re snarling and twisting in his hold, but he doesn’t let up. 

“Enough,” he repeats, searching your wild eyes. Your movements slow down a fraction, giving him a moment of hope, before you surge forward and bury your teeth in his lower lip. It hurts like hell and he can taste blood on his tongue instantly. 

“Fight me,” you demand again, baring your teeth at him.

He pulls you back by your hair with a roar, gathers both your wrists in one large hand and holds you steady. You could still break free if you wanted to, he thinks. He might be stronger than you, but your movements turn almost liquid when you want to escape, he’s watched it more than once. 

The pain in his lip has already subsided, but his blood is still coating your mouth, a stark contrast against the white shimmer of your teeth. 

“Are you done?” His voice is harsh, his jaw clenched, carefully keeping the desire to strike back at bay. 

You deflate a little, some of the wildness draining from you before his eyes. 

“I just— I’m not fragile, I don’t want you to be scared of— of touching me.” Your voice grows small at the end and he’s horrified to see wetness glistening in your eyes. 

The fight mode leaves him as fast as it came, replaced with the overwhelming urge to care, to protect what’s his. His pack, in a way.  

He gathers you into his arms, curling himself around you. It feels good to hold you close again. Breathing you in deeply, he smells the adrenaline still oozing from you, hears the rapid beating of your heart. But mostly, it’s your unique scent, one that he thinks he could recognize anywhere. His tether to this world. 

“I’m sorry, kitten. I’m not scared of touching you,” he mumbles into your hair. 

You sniffle against his chest, but when you finally raise your head to look at him, new determination is glinting in your eyes. 

“Prove it,” you coo, tracing the shape of his lips with one fingertip. “Please.” 

That he can do. He nips at your finger playfully, your responding giggle the best sound he’s heard all day, before he shoves it out of the way to connect his lips with yours. It’s rough, a clashing of teeth and tongues, the tension that has been building and warping all day finally finding a release. 

You gasp into his mouth when his tongue moves against yours, your hands pulling at his hair, needing him closer and closer still, never close enough. His groan at the taste of you travels through you both as he’s grasping at your clothes. 

He longs for your warm skin under his palms, longs for how you lean into his touch so needy all the damn time. You pull away with a moan, helping him to pull your sweater over your head and stepping out of your jeans as he sheds his flannel. 

You bring both hands up to cup his face, to search his eyes. “Don’t be gentle,” you plead, “please, I need—” 

You don’t have to keep talking for him to understand what you need. I’m not scared of touching you. 

With a growl, his hands find your hips, holding you tight as he’s walking you backwards until your ass connects with the backside of the couch. He crowds you in, paws at every inch of bare skin he can reach, his cock already hard and aching at your soft warmth and the sweet mewls that tumble from your lips. 

Hitching one of your legs up to open you for him, he grinds himself against your barely covered center. A keening sound escapes you at the friction from his jeans against your sensitive flesh and he allows himself a grin. 

“Feels good, kitten?” 

You nod mindlessly, holding onto him and rocking your hips against his while you’re letting him move you however he sees fit. 

“Do you want more?”

“Please, Logan.”

You sound so sweet when you’re like this, when you put your body into his hands. I’m not scared of touching you.

Setting your leg back down, he watches with hunger as you hastily take off your underwear while he pulls the white tank top over his head and opens his belt buckle. He could swear that your pupils dilate a fraction at the sound of it, filling him with a possessive sense of pride. 

As soon as his jeans hit the floor, he’s all over you again, palming the weight of your breasts, tugging and pinching at your nipples as he swallows down your mewls. You’re soaking wet already, covering his cock in your slick as he nudges against your folds. He’s impatient to feel you all around him, to sink into you, to stake his claim again and again and again. 

He normally works you open longer, gives you more time to prepare, but your impatience is just as apparent as his own, with the way you whine and plead for him, your fingers digging into his flesh, trying to pull him nearer. 

He follows your pull, pressing your backside into the couch once more as he crowds your space. Leaning in, he kisses you deeply, licking into your mouth, one hand buried in your hair and holding you close. 

“I love you,” he breathes against your lips as he lets go of you. I’m not scared of touching you.

You smile softly, echoing the sentiment back at him. 

A surprised squeak escapes you when he turns you around suddenly, bending you over the back of the couch. He lines himself up at your dripping entrance, desperate to fill you up, to give you what you’re craving. 

“Not gentle?” he rasps once more, one hand curling around your neck from behind, both in reassurance and dominance. 

“Not gentle,” comes your breathy answer. It breaks off into a shriek of a moan when he slams into you with one long thrust, stretching your tight walls around his length. The sting of his sudden intrusion has to hurt at least a little, but you push back against him eagerly, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. 

Logan holds himself still for a moment, mesmerized by the sight of your squirming body and your needy little sounds, before he pulls out almost entirely, only to push back in forcefully. Your toes barely reach the floor with how far he’s bent you over, lifting you into the air with every harsh thrust, but he’s holding you steady with ease, both hands possessively spanning over your waist, positioning you exactly where he wants you. 

“Taking me so fucking well, like you were made for me,” he growls, gently scratching over your back with his nails. You arch up to chase his touch, tightening around him, almost purring with pleasure. Wetness pours out of you, coating his cock. I’m not scared of touching you. Not when it feels this good. 

“M–more, please,” you whine, blindly reaching backwards to him. 

He leans over you, cages you in, his arms on either side of you, his breath hot against your skin. His teeth sink into the back of your neck, not so deep as to draw blood, but enough that he knows the indents will stay there for quite some time. 

Your whole body goes limp at the sensation, a surprised mewl escaping you as you clench around him wildly. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, his own hips stuttering, “give it to me kitten, come on—” 

He reaches around your hip, fingers teasing through your slick folds and up to your clit, rubbing with slight pressure as he keeps pistoning into your heat. 

“Logan—” you gasp, getting almost impossibly tight, before you shatter around him. He keeps thrusting into you, keeps up his ministrations on your clit, until the pulsing of your cunt around him sends him over the edge as well. He spills his release deep inside of you, the thought of leaving a part of him with you always filling him with a primal satisfaction. 

Pulling you up instantly, he gathers you in his arms, your body soft and pliant against his chest. Walking around the couch and sinking into the cushions to lie down, he gently moves you until your weight is resting on top of him, his embrace wrapping around you.

You stir a little, needing a moment to take in your position. The look of uncertainty that you give him damn near breaks his heart. “Is this okay?” You sound uncertain, too.

God, he’s such an idiot. 

“Yeah, kitten. It’s— fuck, of course it’s okay.”

thank you so so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed, and if you did, a comment or a reblog would absolutely make my day :)

-> part 2!

[snowflop]

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