#it's just not true to the degree that people pretend it is. and if it is then tim is also an angry and impulsive robin. and now ppl will

[aalghul]

where are these posts of people overcorrecting by saying jason's never been angry/impulsive ever? everyone complains about them but all I've seen is people saying "jason was only angry/impulsive a limited amount of times and it wasn't any more than any other robin was. his general character was happy, clever and bright, so the few instances shouldn't define him any more than they do other robins" and people decide that by saying he wasn't angry/impulsive constantly, we're saying he's never behaved that way at any point.

dc pushed the categorization of jason as such so hard that now even when jason behaves in the exact same way as another character, he's more likely to have any action less than perfect be used as support for his being regularly angry/impulsive. tim can beat damian (unprompted) while damian's begging him to stop (tim does not stop; alfred pulls him off damian) but that doesn't mean he's an angry character; he's just emotional in that moment because of the context. but the context never matters when it comes to jason. there's the presumption that jason simply is angry and impulsive and lacking skill, so there's no need to inspect what may be causing his behaviour in that moment. it doesn't matter that jason did not have more instances of excessive anger or impulsiveness than any other robin, it doesn't matter that most of jason's time as robin does not support the idea that those few characteristics should define him. everyone has already accepted that jason is those things based on words and retroactive additions; you don't have to prove it, people already believe it based on retcons designed to make jason unlikable (usually to provide a comparison which uplifts tim). whereas any one making the claim that anger manifesting as physical aggression is a defining trait of tim drake's would actually have to prove the assertion using acceptable comics and actual logic. because, unlike with jason, these negative traits aren't a given for tim.

the facts are that jason's hopefulness, compassion, bright attitude and cleverness were more important to him as robin than anger/impulsiveness. the former were more relevant even in the stories that bring up the anger/impulsiveness! because those are consistent character traits for him, and the latter show up in certain emotional behaviours.

[magix-winx-club]

Beth was a great Character, you're just misogynistic

Sorry for the title, just want ya'll to read this.

TW: mention of, SA, violence, abuse,

Why Beth is an amazing character and could have been even better:  

Female experience in the Apocalypse: 

We don't focus enough on it, especially in The Walking Dead. We got hints throughout the show. For example the issue with Lori and Birth specifically the talk about her losing the baby with Hershel.

Second Maggie's experience with the Governor. And even though that storyline was well executed to a certain degree. We do not get the full ramifications after her conflict with Glenn was resolved. Yes once more the Female Experience was focused on the man not the woman. Even though the show called Glenn out on his behaviour, it still was about a man feeling angry instead of a woman going through something traumatic. 

So, Beth's experience would have been important going forward. Since she did experience attempted rape. How would she react to people in charge like someone aggressive, loud, outspoken, and unpredictable like Dawn and Gorman? 

How would she take Abraham's unpredictability and outspokenness? How would she deal with the socially inappropriate comments Eugene makes? 

(Again this is not about the men and “oh but they wouldn't do anything” or he is “harmless” etc.) This is about a trauma response. 

So what trauma did Beth experience? 

Firstly she was taken against her will, most likely forcefully in some way (her arm was broken). Her agency was taken, her free will, and the (somewhat) security of her surroundings, mainly her family member Daryl who she knows she can trust. 

So she is kidnapped, put in an unfamiliar environment, unfamiliar people, and she has no idea how to navigate such a situation since she has never been in this situation. The situation mainly being, can she trust them? Can she trust what they are saying? Who are these people? How does it work here and what are their intentions? 

The disorientation she must have felt waking up in that environment must have been traumatic. We see with the camera work if we look at Beth's timeline. Her last words are "I’m not leaving you”. Cut to the car speeding away, cut to Beth waking up in an unfamiliar place. These cuts are very abrupt, confusing, and scary. It serves the purpose of confusing the viewer. (What happened to Beth? I think Daryl put it best “she was just gone") and it makes the viewer anxious, nervous, and the need to know what is going on. So we can imagine that Beth feels these things too. 

Furthermore, the show makes a point to show that the world is not what it used to be. I mean the Team Family lived in a prison after all. So having Beth wake up visually in a clean room. Her face clean, her hair brushed out nicely, and professional medical care is like a break from the (her true) reality Beth lived in. Another point is the music and the way she wakes up. It is almost like a dream sequence. Like she had just been in an accident, but all is well now since she is in the hospital. Almost like a sleeping beauty type of deal (but modernized). 

To sum up, her first Trauma is the shift of reality, specifically of her surroundings. The funeral home was not safe, it was a trap. She is no longer with family, but her agency, which she had to a certain point (cannot control things like walkers, or people attacking their home) is taken completely away. Lastly, the new surroundings differ from what she knows from the outside. It is like back at the farm “we were fooling ourselves into thinking we were safe” and “you don't know what it is like out there,” but Beth does know now. And even though Grady likes to pretend that the outside world did not touch the hospital, it did. Maybe not in the sense of walkers, people looting the place, dirt everywhere, but the mentality presented to us, the question of “Survival of the Fittest” is present in Grady. We see this theory of survival of the fittest through the first 4 seasons, but not in this scenario where people deliberately want the weak to enslave them and claim it is saving them. 

Where do we see Survival of the Fittest? 

Randall and Dale 

Is this a world for kids? 

Disability: Hershel losing his leg 

The Governor and the way he manipulates the “weak” residents of Woodberry and takes out the “fittest” f.ex. the military guys. 

Does sickness discrimination against the weak and the strong? (The flu storyline) 

So now we have Beth's storyline mixed with the question survival of the fittest. Beth is constantly underestimated and Dawn constantly says/tries to show that Beth is not strong. I don't want to focus on how this can be used to your advantage but the mental tool it can take on you. This is a form of demeaning people, keeping them in “their place”. It fucks with your head when things in your past (suicide scar) is used against you, your appearance (Beth is skinny, with big blue eyes and generally deemed innocent and non threatening looking). She outright says “I am strong” but no one believes her. Which is a form of silencing therefore further taking her agency away from her. At one point does Beth start to believe this? would it take months or years for this kind of gaslighting to have an effect? This can be compared to Daryl’s inner monologue in Season 2 when Merle tells him “no one is ever going to love you but me little brother” which we can guess as viewers is something he was told/taught for years and Daryl believed it. 

Now this could have been interesting to see in Alexandria. Before everything happened with the fall of the Farm and the Barn incident. (Even to an extent the prison era) Beth would have fit in perfectly in Alexandrias society. The sweet farmer's daughter who takes care of a child that is not hers, helps out with chores, sings, reads the Bible, and hopes for summer picnics and birthdays (which in no way is a bad thing, I love that side of Beth!). Now she has encountered Grady, a place that was from the appearance like the old world and Beth was believed to fit in - so is Alexandria. How does she handle the constant shift of what she's supposed to believe the world is? Is it like Grady? The road from Atlanta to D.C.? Or is it like Alexandria? Could it be like all three or could Alexandria be just another “false” hope? 

To sum up, the Trauma of being taken out of one surrounding and what you believe the world is like and being put in another with different rules and she has no idea how to navigate them since she does not know them and does not have any protection from her family being there. (Grady's system of running things is so vastly different from the Prison, also let's call Grady's system what it is: Slavery. They kidnap people and make them work “work of what you owe and then you can leave” “I haven't seen it work like that”) 

Now to the people: Beth has experienced different kinds of traumas with the people in Grady. 

Gaslighting (“you were alone, we saved you, you owe us, you are not strong,...”) 

Physical abuse (Dawn hitting her, her scars on her face, bruising, a cast on her arm) 

Mental abuse (the doctor making her kill someone and then claiming she messed up (also falls into the category of gaslighting, having to rely on the same doctor to not get SAd by Gorman)) 

Sexual abuse (that is mostly the female experience. He is in charge therefore in a position of power, he is older, and she is just a weak young woman) the abuse was: the fear of it happening, the lollipop incident (yes that is a traumatic event), the constant watching from Gorman, how trivialize it is by the police officers “laughed about the poor girl getting raped”, the top person in charge does nothing to stop it (“ you know what is happening here and you let it happen”), and then the SA in Dawn's office) 

How is it that we never get to see this female struggle? This (more often) female fear and trauma? Michonne and Andrea traveled alone, but this fear never comes up. We have one mention of an incident where Randell tells the story of the two teenage girls. But honestly my biggest fear in this world would be traveling alone as a woman and encountering men. It is already bad nowadays. Can you imagine this in an Apocalypse? 

So why do we ignore this very real fear women face? Why do we kill the one character who actually has a storyline, who focuses on this female fear and female trauma, without any connection to a man or the typical motherhood storyline TWD does? 

Why not show that this was ACTUALLY traumatic. Since we even see Beth smile at Dawn after getting SA, killing him, and then leaving the office to go escape? I am glad Beth could put on a smile so Dawn wouldn't know but why do we never see Beth scared, look around her, keep an eye on the door while she sleeps, even trying to lock the door in some way so no one can get in while she sleeps. Why do we not see a far away look when she is trying to first process what happened. There are soo many trauma responses, and everyone is valid in the way they respond to trauma. So why do we not take trauma into account in female storyline? This is my biggest issue with TWD. Lori got one scene of her crying after Shane SAd her and then it was back to the love triangle (which is absolutely disgusting). Why did Rosita not get to be angry with Eugene like Abraham? There are so many storylines even when the woman is involved that focuses on the male response instead. 

Let Beth be human, with human responses and more than just another dead girl. Show me how she would cope with her personal space being violated, the perception of personhood being breached. Could she react aggressively when Eugene makes a socially inappropriate comment. Would she be tense, nervous, keep an eye out for him? How about Abraham's imposing statue? What about men in Alexandria? Could she struggle socializing with men? Keeping to the people she knows and clinging to the safety they once represented to her like Glenn, Rick, Carl and Daryl. They are the men that never did anything to her. Or could she even pull away there and struggle to come to terms that they are safe but also men. And men had not been safe for women in Grady. 

How could Beth respond to Deanna knowing how Dawn presented herself. Would she be uneasy? Would she be able to tell that Deanna is not like Dawn since she knows the signs of a bad leader because of Dawn. 

I am just mad how we ignore this big (and unique to TWD) storyline of a young woman witnessing her father get beheaded, her home destroyed, her relationship with Daryl, her kidnapping, enslavement, physical/mental/sexual abuse? All that just to further other people's storylines for a couple of episodes just to forget about Beth after that.

What do you think? Comment below

[torchickentacos]

I'm reading poetry at 1 am and spiraling over like 45 emotions at once, which is how poetry was meant to be enjoyed, I think

[kinetic-elaboration]

September 27: Rain

Yes, I am definitely crashing and I guess that's inevitable. I'm trying to just lessen the impact as much as possible because I feel like that's all I can do.

I'm honestly still quite bitter that I looked forward to Friday as the reward for all the stupid stuff I dealt with over the week and then instead of the restful sort of slowing down and sliding into the weekend I needed mentally, everything just got 10x worse because of the weather situation. It was so bad out there. Like hall of shame weather experience level... I think I've only had one worse experience and 1-2 similarly bad ones.

I just... I am angry with other people because I think this was a top-level failure about basic safety. Like the university should have closed at 1 or 2 based on the weather forecast. It should have. Miserable as it was for me to walk through basically the worst hour of the storm, I would have wanted to drive through it even less. These are the conditions for hydroplaning into a ditch. They are! Which of your employees' or students' lives was expendable today hmmm? This happens with every bad weather situation from snow storms to hurricanes to tornadoes to rainstorms, every single time without fail: people make decisions at every governance level by looking out the window. "Oh I don't see any snow now!" "Well I mean it looks fine!" "In their defense it's just a little gray." With all due respect (none) that is not how emergency preparedness works.

This idea that you move to the safety of your own home when it's already bad out and not a minute before is so wild to me. Is this because I grew up in a place with a lot of inclement weather? Or am I just the only one with two brain cells to rub together here? Or are we so deluded about the importance of every millisecond of productivity that we simply cannot conceive of leaving an hour or two early under any circumstance?

The thing is that in weather like this, too, it's not going to get worse exponentially over time. There are bad hours and better hours. There is one sense in which it's cumulative--a washed out road is a washed out road--but other conditions will get better in a short amount of time. So when people ignore the tornado watch we had all day and the radar screens with the honking big storm on the horizon, and all that, because it looks fine out now, the next best thing they can do when shit does get bad is stay put where they are until it gets better. But when they see it get bad they get scared and now, NOW, we all need to move. Now we need to do what we should have done 2 hours ago. Now we SEE the emergency, so I guess it's real. Which is the worst thing you can do.

This is how it's 4pm and some people are already on their way out and the dean of students comes to the library and is like 'um, it's bad, maybe we should go home?' And then everyone gathers at the desk to discuss this and come up with answers like 'he has no authority here though?' (true? but??) and 'well the university hasn't closed' (yes, let's remember that when one of us gets into a wreck during some flash flooding :) ) and so on. The final answer: the inevitable final answer in an individualistic society where no one ever wants to take responsibility for or even basic care of others: well just do what feels safe for you!!! So, right, by that you mean "if you leave too late and get hurt that's on you." Got it. Glad we cleared that up.

Part of this anger--and this is like the fourth time I've ranted about this today and I did not mean to, though by the fire of my annoyance I am keeping myself warm (feeling less depressed)--is that I do feel guilty. Should I have left earlier? Should I have dropped everything to run out at 4:10 and catch an earlier bus, ended up walking in the rain but rain that wasn't as bad? Should I myself have paid more attention to that same weather forecast, instead of relying on the judgement of people known to have piss-poor judgement on this topic, and left early, even if it meant taking leave time to do that? Should I have stayed an hour late at work, again to avoid the very very very worst that I walked through?

I do think my employer has responsibility for my safety to some degree. I really do. You require me to come in so you should have some sort of awareness of what I risk by traveling to and from this required location. But maybe I'm just putting off blame... I do know I get extra defensive when I feel some sort of guilt.

Fuck it was so absolutely miserable. I had to walk repeatedly through water up to my ankles because there was no way around the deep puddles. My whole back was soaked and part of my arm before I got on the bus. The walk to my apartment was even worse: more puddles starting to resemble lakes, plus I got a rock in my shoe, and worst of all my umbrella got stuck so I had to hold it open for a while, and then when I paused to close and reopen it I got drenched and also somehow almost run over by a bicyclist. Sir get the fuck off the sidewalk I don't fucking care.

I have to say I really lost it when I saw the water overflowing the storm ditches. The ones along my road are pretty deep and they were literally overflowing onto the grass. It just made me realize how bad this was. Like no, I was being yanked around before. I was.

My clothes are so fucking drenched that they are still drying in the tub. I wrung out my skirt as much as I could... it's still bad.

I'm just so tired. I did take a nap, rather a long one, rather a too long one, and now it's later than I want it to be. I don't know about this weekend... I want badly for it not to be a lost time but I also feel SO utterly drained, I don't know how long it will take me to recover from this.

[foldingfittedsheets]

When I was getting my associates degree I took a Mythology class that I loved. But one of the girls in class was absolutely off the rails conservative Christian which made things… interesting.

The professor started off the class by being like, “Mythology is stories associated with religion.”

This girl. Haaaated that. She was like, “No, Christianity is true. It’s not mythology.” Mythology was delivered in the same tone as someone trying to spit excrement from their mouth.

The professor raised her eyebrows and said laconically, “Yes, most people believe their religion is the real one, that’s part of it, and the stories surrounding religion are referred to as mythology.”

The girl stewed in a hateful sullen rage. I truly don’t understand why she didn’t drop the class but perhaps it was court mandated education. We all expected her to drop the class but she dug in like a tick and derailed discussions as often as she could.

On a different occasion the professor was drawing a comparison between social constructs like gender. The girl raised her hand. The class hushed to hear her announce, “It’s just a fact that women like domestic work and even though men are awful and stinky we just have to love them anyway. It’s biology, we’re just hardwired like that.”

I was sitting next to my friend a baby gay Jewish girl and our eyes met in mutual hilarity while the professor tried to pretend she hadn’t just been stricken with a stress induced migraine while she steered the class away from that landmine.

The next sticking point was a week later when the professor informed us that many mythologies have overlapping events like floods but these didn’t necessarily happen in such literal terms. It was a metaphorical way to process and understand the world.

This girls hand shot up. I watched the professor exercise extreme self control to keep her expression bland before calling on her.

“The world did flood. And Noah saved all the animals. Before the flood all the water was in a dome outside the earth and then the dome broke and the world flooded. All of it.”

The whole class stared at her as if struggling to comprehend the overlap of her acceptance that the world was round while also firmly believing that there had previously been a barrier that held up all of the earths water before god smashed it in a fit of pique.

She raged under the attention, glaring balefully at our astonished faces.

The professor stared at her blankly, unable to form words to such a bizarre belief. I wanted to ask clarifying questions- what they’d drunk before the dome broke, if there were rivers or lakes prior, or did the dome allow some rain in somehow, but then I really looked at her.

She had the eyes of a feral, cornered animal who regarded any deviation in worldview from her own to be a physical assault on her person. Like the professor, I said nothing, and after a wretchedly long pause class moved on.

[pencil-n-pen]

Princess ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

⊹‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

leon kennedy x fem!reader

Summary: Being an independent woman and a full time student is all fun and games until final’s season. Luckily, your not-quite academic rival Leon Kennedy is there to pick you up when you fall.

next

cw: Female pronouns and description used for reader but nothing detailed (no skin color, eye color, hair type, body type, etc.) This is basically just an x reader for my independent eldest daughters who do nothing but their absolute best all the time everyday and deep down want a hot guy with beefy arms to let them relax for a minute. So i guess expect the related issues that come with being an eldest daughter?

Tags/tropes: hurt/comfort, dom! leon if you squint, leon’s very touchy, leon being a gentleman!! probably ooc, i kinda struggled finding his voice :/

wc: 3.3k

a/n: wowee so i’m not rlly looking to be a full time author or anything but i could NOT get this idea out of my head and i figured i could give back to the tumblr fic community <3 here’s to everyone who wants hurt/comfort without smut, incest, or a needlessly specific reader! hope everyone’s recovering well from finals!

— ‎ ‧₊˚ 𓂃౨ৎ

The first time it happened, it honestly, truly, was an accident. A mistake, if you will. You would never willingly fall asleep on a random guy at a party. That is all kinds of bad for a number of reasons.

However. There were some… extenuating circumstances.

Finals. They’re a make-or-break for the first semester. Mostly just a break. In the sense that you contemplated how upset your parents would be at you if you dropped out and if the subsequent disowning would be worth it.

You did finals the same way you did everything. You worked. Studied. Borderline obsessed over it. Romanticized it so you could push through when the other’s resolve started dropping. Stayed home. Your friends bemoaned your “no-fun attitude” but they’re crying over their grades and you’re not, so.

Well. Actually you’re definitely crying over your grades, almost every day in fact. But not because they’re bad. Just because you’re tired. Really tired. The kind of tired that makes people have public breakdowns. But you can’t afford to have a public breakdown because you have to succeed at college and you have to work in order to stay on top of your bills and be able to send some money home to your family and make sure you have time to call your parents and make time for your sister to call you and vent because you didn’t have a you at her age and you wish you did so you have to be there for her and your friends need you to be there for them not to mention planning for how you’re going to use your degree after you graduate and—

Most of the time you try not to think about it.

So finals were over. And everyone wanted to celebrate. And you did, you promise. You’re totally the party girl type. Totally. (Maybe if you say it enough times it’ll come true?)

You don’t hate parties. You like dressing up and going out. It’s fun! It’s just… not your idea of an unwind. Not after you nearly ran yourself into the ground for a month straight for the sake of academic validation. You’d prefer to sleep for 72 hours straight. And maybe watch a movie at home in the sweatshirt you cried over your textbooks in. Maybe over a glass of wine? You’re not really sure. Relaxing never really goes well for you. It’s either depression-bed-rotting or full productivity.

Needless to say, you weren’t exactly thrilled to find yourself at this party. You’re not really sure how your friends convinced you.

But you’re here, in makeup and an outfit you like (you’re thankful this isn’t one of the ‘put on a tight dress and dance’ parties) and you just honestly want to go to bed. It’s a house party, so it’s not nearly as crazy as some of the other parties you’ve been (read: dragged) to, but still.

You’re on the couch, ignoring the smell of alcohol in the air and pretending the pounding baseline of the music coming from the speaker in the kitchen isn’t starting to give you a headache.

Ada Wong, a girl you’ve hesitantly dubbed your party friend, is sitting on your left, while the guy you can never quite tell what he is to her, is sitting on your right.

Leon Kennedy.

On a good day, Leon Kennedy is a smart, brooding, annoyingly capable guy who you share some of your classes with. On a bad day, he’s the bane of your existence. On a really bad day, you fantasize about all the ways you could kill him and turn the experience into a really good term paper.

It’s complicated. You’re smart. He’s smart. You tend to clash because neither of you like backing down from a challenge.

But right now, in this moment, at this party, the only thing you can think about is how fucking tired you are and how warm he is.

The music is so loud it drowns everything out in your brain. The few thoughts that make it through the overwhelm of sound are fuzzy and staticky. The cling and slip around in your head like syrup. The worst parts about parties are, funnily enough, working to cancel out the main reason you can’t fall asleep in your own bed at night: overthinking.

That and the fact that you haven’t sleep in forty-eight hours. An energy drink and an iced coffee count as a full nights sleep, right? You’re sure the heart palpitations are normal.

You manage to keep up with the steady flow of the group conversation, but as the night wears on, talking becomes harder and harder and just plain processing the words being said slowly turns into an impossible task. At some point, someone else squeezed onto the couch— you think it might be Chris? Ada did say he was coming late— so now you’re pressed against the one and only Leon Kennedy, and he’s radiating heat like a furnace.

Like you, he opted for a slightly more casual approach to the house party. Of course, he’s a guy, so his wardrobe was probably never that big, but still. It’s nice to see someone else in a sweatshirt and jeans.

You at least put on your favorite jeans! You call them your hot jeans, for self explanatory reasons. So what if you’re wearing an oversized sweatshirt? It’s cold!

You jolt in place, not realizing your eyes had slipped close and the conversation had continued on without you. Something prickles in the back of your head. An instinctual sort of thing.

Don’t fall asleep in public places.

Don’t fall asleep at someone’s house you don’t know.

You know the owner of the house, you think. You’ve been here once or twice. But you don’t know everyone at the party and where your friends have gone because they’re not in the group talking here and you should probably stand up soon, to wake yourself up, don’t let your friends down, don’t be that girl who falls asleep at the party, don’t—

You jolt again.

Wake up. You tell yourself. Leon’s looking at you out of the corner of his eye, but you ignore it.

It feels like a record skip. You’ll blink, and the conversation isn’t the same as when you first closed your eyes. The song isn’t the same. Were the lights always this bright?

“Whew!” Ada whistles from above. When did she stand up? “Someone’s got final’s exhaustion written all over their face!”

The group laughs and you do too, but it sounds different. Leon doesn’t. Why isn’t he laughing?

You jolt again. Harder this one. A full body shake. You wince as your knee knocks into Leon’s.

“Sorr—“

“Stop that.” He grumbles, and oh. A warm, solid hand snakes around your waist and pulls you closer. Closed to that warm, stupidly comfortable side.

This is wrong. It’s Leon. It’s Leon. You can’t. And this is a party, and your friends are here—

“Stop being stupid,” You can feel his chest rumble from where your cheek is pressed flush against it, and when did that happen? He picks up your left arm and drapes it across his stomach, then picks up your right arm and wraps it around his lower pack. “Squeeze.”

You listen, and wow. Who has time to go to the gym this much and be an academic rival? You feel like you’re slacking. Maybe you need to make time to get some—

“I can hear you thinking,” He says, voice deep and rumbly. It’s honestly a miracle you can hear him over the music. It’s probably because your face is pressed against his chest. If you strain, you can feel the dull thud of his heart.

“You have a heart?” You say, half-delirious with exhaustion. It comes out more as a question than a statement

“Mhm,” He rumbles. “I am in possession of one. Great observation princess.”

You frown into his chest. “Why are you always so mean? You call me that stupid name. I’m not a princess.”

“I’m not mean. Whoever said princess was a mean nickname? You decided that on your own.”

“Then how come you call me that?”

“Because,” He huffs, repositioning to a more slouched position that’s more comfortable for your neck. The arm tightens around your waist.

It’s nice. It’s possessive. Protective. No one’s ever really done that for you before. Usually it’s you doing the protecting.

You don’t want to relax. You can’t. You can’t.

“Because,” He continues, “Princesses need to be taken care of. Especially smart, stubborn princesses who never pause for one second. Not even when they should.”

You should get up. Apologize for how weird you’re being. Have another coffee or energy drink. Join the party. Do something that isn’t this.

“Go to sleep,” He says, his voice like a warm blanket settling and slipping into your mind. “Nothing‘s going to happen to you while I’m here. No one is going to be mad at you for sleeping. And if they are, I’ll kick their ass. Go to sleep.”

It’s easy to give in after that.

You sag, boneless. Like a puppet with it’s strings cut. You inhale deeply, breathing in the deep, rich scent that’s distinctly Leon.

Just for a few minutes. Because Leon’s watching. He won’t let something happen to you. Just for a few minutes. You’ll get up soon. You will.

He tucks you closer to him. “Sleep.”

You’re out like a light.

—

“No way, she’s actually asleep?”

“Holy shit Leon, did you drug her?”

“I did not.”

“Well, thanks, for whatever weird magic-spell you cast. Seriously. We’re all starting to get worried about her. She doesn’t take any breaks and she doesn’t let anyone help. Last week a librarian found her asleep on the printer. Fully standing.”

“Hmm.”

“I’m going to start inviting you to our apartment if it means she’ll actually get some fucking sleep. It’s unsettling finding her in the same position as when I left like, six hours beforehand.”

“Don’t worry. She’s in good hands.”

—

It’s horrific, running into him in the library.

What makes it more horrible is the fact that you’re ugly crying silently in the English textbook section, because it’s always empty. You’re ugly crying in the English textbook section of the university library and Leon Kennedy just walked into the aisle.

You sniff, lifting your head from your knees to stare up at him from the ground. He has a knack for finding you at your lowest, it would seem.

“We’ve got to stop seeing each other like this, princess.”

“Oh?” You sniff hard, running a hand across your face as if that will clear up your red rimmed, puffy eyes, the tear tracks on your face, or the flush on your nose. The action at least wipes away the snot. “I wasn’t aware you ever fell asleep on me at a party. Did I ever find you crying in the English textbook section of the library?”

He tilts his head. “Why the English textbook section? It’s one of your best subjects.”

“It’s the emptiest section. Plus, anyone looking for an English textbook at this hour isn’t going to bat an eye at me.” You wrap your arms around your legs and hug them to your chest. “What are you doing here?”

“One of your roommates called Ada. They said you haven’t been home since this morning. They thought you might’ve been at hers, or with me.”

You snort. “It’s like they don’t even know me.”

He rolls his eyes. “I think they were hoping you’d be there. I think anyone who knows you knew you’d be here.”

“Crying in the English section?”

“In the library, dumbass.”

He stalks forward, leaning back against the bookshelf across from you and sliding his hands into his sweatpants pockets.

“Tell me. Is your pathological avoidance to asking for help conscious or not?”

You kick out, one shoed foot catching him in the shins. “Dick.”

He shrugs. “Just want to know. I can’t exactly gloat over scoring two points above you if you’re not in top form. I want a fair fight.”

“Is that what you're here for?” You ask suddenly, everything in your body going rigid. “You think this is funny?”

“No,” He says calmly. “I’m here because you’re being stupid again. You know what’s not healthy, or smart?”

He gestures to you. You, sitting on the floor, tears drying on your face. “This. Going out to parties to make your friends happy when you should be at home, sleeping. Studying for so long you end up looking like your boyfriend of eight years just broke up with you. Come on, princess. Where’s those brains you brag about?”

“They’re up here,” You tap your forehead. Against your will, your eyes burn, tears welling up, your face tightening. “And they’re tired.”

You drop your head into your hands, forgoing your silent crying of earlier in the place of open mouth sobbing. You can’t help it. You’re just so tired. So done with it all. With trying to keep up, with trying to make space, with trying to make time. With doing your best and it not being enough. You’re tired of being tired.

“Annnd there it is. Come here.”

He lowers himself to the floor next to you, tucking you close in a similar fashion as that night at the party.

“Come on, same thing as before. Hold onto me. Give yourself a minute.”

You wrap your arms around his middle, same way as last time, burying your face into his shoulder. Someone could see. Someone you know might see you crying and think—

He reaches a hand up and pulls the hood of your sweatshirt over your head.

“There. Now no one can see your face. Stop worrying. Just cry, princess.”

You sniffle. “I’m getting snot on your sweatshirt.”

“It’s had worse on it.”

“Gross.”

You can practically feel the eye roll. “Can you stop being dirty-minded and focus on something productive? Like crying? Or not crying, if that would make you feel better.”

You shift, so your head is lying against his shoulder instead of smashed into it like before.

“Why do you care if I feel better?”

Why do you care?

He shrugs against you.

“Told you,” He pushes your hood back a bit, tapping you on the forehead with his pointer finger. “My competition’s no fun if she’s not taking care of herself. How else is she gonna kick my ass?”

“I can take care of myself just fine. I don’t need you to swoop in here, Leon.���

“Mhm,” He says. “And i’m sure you do great at it, considering you’re still alive and kicking my ass at those stupid socratic seminars. Consider this… self-care. In the face mask, getting your nails done way.”

“Who taught you self care?”

“Ada. We have face mask nights.”

You jolt up. “Is she—“

“She’s not my girlfriend, we’re not fucking, no she’s not going to be upset or care in any way about this. Calm down.”

You begrudgingly settle back against him.

“If anything,” He continues. “She’ll be excited to see you at more parties in the coming months.”

You frown. “I never said—“

“You only go to parties if your friends physically drag you or when you feel confident enough in your grades and the general state of your life. It’s really easy to tell which version of you shows up to the party. It’s the way you dress.”

“How so?”

He shifts slightly. Guilt twinges in your stomach as you realize how uncomfortable he must be.

“You wear your pick-me-up pants when you’re dragged there. The ones that make your ass look great.”

You sit up with a gasp. “My hot pants?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Is that what you call them?”

Your brain catches up to the rest of what he said. “Hold on. Did you just say—“

“I said what I said. I’m assuming there’s a reason you call them your hot pants.”

He smirks, and you flush.

“Moving onto more pressing matters,” He tilts his head at you. “You have two options this evening. Either I take you back to your place and you sleep in your own bed, or you come to my place and we binge watch the Oceans movies until you fall asleep.”

“How did you know I like the—“

“The icebreaker for club thing. You said they were your favorite movies.”

You look up at him. “You remembered?”

“You were wearing your hot jeans.”

“You’re the worst.”

He scans your face for a moment, eyes sparking with mirth and a little something less innocent. “Maybe.”

You sigh and lean back against him, exhaustion from all your crying hitting you at once.

“Nuh-uh, no sleeping here. You gotta pick one. My place or yours?”

You frown into his shoulder. “Ugh. Fine. Yours, but only because I wanna watch the Ocean’s movies. You better not have a disgusting frat house.”

“I do not. I do have popcorn and ice cream.”

“Ada bought those, didn’t she?”

“Nope,” He says, nudging you with his shoulder to stand. You clamber in gracefully to your feet, your head starting to pound. “Chris likes to have movie nights. It pays to be well stocked.”

Your cheeks warm as a large, steadying hand finds its way to the small of your back. “How many of my friends are you friends with?”

“I was friends with them first.”

“Ass.”

He chuckles incredulously. “For having friends?”

“Yes,” You say, letting him pull you to his side while you walk to your table where you left your stuff. Probably not the best idea to leave your entire net-worth unattended, but whatever. You were going through it. “How dare you.”

“Mmm. I see. My apologies, princess. I’ll tell Chris and Ada.”

“You get on that.”

You can’t help but smile as he helps you pack up your things, passing you items across the table and carefully zipping up your pencil case.

“Don’t touch my papers, I have a system.”

“Is the system absolute chaos?”

“Shut up.”

Once everything is packed up, you zip up your backpack, but before you can sling it on, Leon’s arm darts out and snags it right out from under you.

Your expression grows pinched. “I can carry my own bag, Leon.”

“I know you can.”

“Give me my bag.”

“No.”

You groan. “Why do you want to carry my bag?”

“See, there’s this thing called chivalry—“

“Oh my god, shut up. When have you and chivalry ever been synonymous?”

He shrugs. “Ever since I met the girl in the hot jeans who regularly kicks my ass academically.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Mmm,” He hums, wrapping an arm around your waist and walking you towards the doors to the library. “And you’re stubborn. Come on. Brad Pitt and George Clooney are waiting for you.”

You sigh dramatically, hiding a small smile in your hand.

Maybe you could get used to this.

masterlist | next part

♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

[littlcdarlin]

dbf!Joel headcanons

warnings: big, though unspecified age gap, 18+ (as always)

note: Uni has been kicking my ass, so I’ve only had time for some headcanons lately. This Joel is very sweet, but I’m open to writing sleazy or dark Joel, too! If you have requests for any headcanons, I will be able to write them even during this stressful time. Full fics will take me a while longer. Enjoy reading, my loves <3 and feel free to add stuff!

He doesn’t really know how to cook well and mostly eats his faves every day but when you stay over more and more he makes an effort to learn and actually finds out he really likes it

Whatever pressure your parents put on you, he relieves it by accepting it rather than trying to fix it for you — you can just exist around him without expectation

He worries the age difference means you don’t have much to talk about, so he watches your favourite show that you mentioned and although it certainly wouldn’t have been his first pick, it lets him unwind. He likes watching something he knows you’ve watched and loved when you’re not around, it makes him feel closer to you

When he first starts looking at you differently he blue balls himself so as not to disrespect you — when he has sex with someone to relieve himself, he accidentally says your name to them

He keeps a polaroid of you in his wallet and cashiers wonder why he smiles at his debit card so much

He finds it hard to stay friends with your dad, because it makes him feel weird about this dynamic with you. He distances himself from your parents after they react badly to the news of your relationship, not because of guilt or cowardice, but because he doesn’t tolerate how they treat you

He thought he would hate the gossip after the two of you go public, but when you do, he finds himself imagining knocking you up just so everyone knows what he does to you. He opts for lots of hickeys until kids might be a possibility, but that doesn’t stop him from pretending you don’t have an IUD when he finishes inside of you

He loves when you wear his clothes, but when you forget your scarf at his place he wears it and enjoys that just as much — it smells like you and he likes the idea of people being able to tell it’s somebody else’s

When he figures out how much you like him talking to you during sex, he starts using the same voice/phrases in public to get you flustered & wet for him

He keeps everything that reminds him of you, like parking tickets etc. He doesn’t do anything with those things, doesn’t put them in a box, so they linger around his house, reminding him of you the way photographs would, except more privately

He starts “putting in an effort” for you when you start dating: styling his hair & wearing clothes he thinks you would prefer, until you tell him you like nothing more than his flannels and band tees and jeans, and although he doesn’t tell you, he’s beyond relieved. He realises you like him for him

When you tell your parents, Joel asks your father to hit him because “he knows he deserves it”. With time he learns he also deserves your kisses and smiles. Those things coexist within him, he thinks both are true

Despite completely supporting you in your pursuit of a degree & career, he likes when you’re on holiday, waiting around for him in his house wearing nothing but a pair of panties he bought for you & one of his hoodies. During those lazy weeks, he fucks you morning, afternoon, and night: before he leaves, when he gets home, and right before you go to sleep

He buys you a ring during the first week of dating because you mentioned how much you like it. He doesn’t give it to you until he knows you feel certain about him — he doesn’t want to freak you out. Still, even before that, he sometimes looks at it in its little black box and envisions it on your finger

During your first couple of “public dates” (neighbourhood barbecue where your parents are present etc.) he refrains from touching you much, although everyone knows about your relationship. You have to take his hand and initiate small touches for him to feel more comfortable

It takes him a short while, but then he loves being able to touch you in front of people: a hand on your lower back, an arm across your shoulder, his fingers lacing through yours, him pulling your back against his front and wrapping his arms around you. People stare sometimes (your Dad breaks one or two wine glasses in his hand), but Joel stops caring when he sees how happy it makes you

He tells you that you can change things about his home, that it should feel like your place, too and asks if you want to go shopping for “candles and stuff”, but you love being in a space that feels completely like him. It’s not how your apartment looks, but it makes you feel at ease, like you’re somehow living inside of him

Before he tells you he loves you, he whispers it in your ear when you’re sleeping, hoping your subconscious will somehow pick up on it. When he does tell you while you’re awake for the first time, it’s during breakfast. You stub your toe, and let out a string of curses you must have picked up on from him, and while he presses ice against your foot, kneeling in front of you, he smiles up and tells you: I love you.

The first time you sleep over at his house after he spent the night in your apartment, two brand new bottles of the shampoo and conditioner you use are in his shower. You thank him and jokingly ask why he didn’t buy your shower gel, too. He kisses you and tells you he likes when you smell like him.

He likes making you come more times than you thought you could — something about moving in and out of you while you tell him you can’t do it again, that you’re done, and then watching you fall apart on his cock anyway, thrills him to the bone. It makes him feel powerful, but part of it is knowing you let him fuck you without expecting an orgasm, that him being inside of you is enough for you to feel good

He doesn’t tell you, but he adds your name to his car insurance, so that you can drive it whenever you want

When you figure it out you give him road head every time the two of you drive somewhere — until he almost crashes the car and he forbids you to tempt him while he’s behind the wheel

He’s so nervous he asks Tommy for help when picking out a birthday gift for you — Tommy goes overboard and the gift turns out to be something completely ridiculous like a pair of huge earrings you would never wear. You tell Joel you don’t need a big fuss to feel loved by him. At night, he gives you a present he’s been wanting to give you for a while: he plays you a song he wrote for you on his guitar. It’s quiet and simple and so perfect you cry for half an hour

He doesn’t sleep well when you’re not around, and loves being close to you at night. If he could, he’d sleep nestled inside of you after a round of lazy midnight sex every night

As much as Tommy annoys him, it makes him happy to see how well you two get along. When you become actual friends with Tommy and hang out with him on your own, he’s more than pleased: the two people he loves the most in the world have become close

He would never ask it of you, but when you tell him you have stopped masturbating because he fucks you so often, it pleases him deeply. He likes being the only source of your pleasure. When you are apart for a while because of work/collage etc., he buys you a toy he can control from his phone

He tells Tommy he thinks he’s going to marry you during the first month of dating, which you find out about only on your wedding day during Tommy’s speech

[nanamiskentos]

regular/modern!human x true form sukuna boyfriend headcanons for fun <3 mainly for my pookie @kasukuna bc that's who i think of when i think of bf!sukuna

sees that men get their lovers cute things like flowers and chocolate and thinks its overrated. sukuna realises he needs to up his game with a romantic gesture, and thinks its cool to carve your name into a tree with his claws. you catch him picking bark from out under his dark nails.

saw that you made smoothies in the morning with breakfast and waited till you left the house to try it for himself (he always said he didn't care for them but he just doesn't want to admit). sukuna threw together a ripe banana, a loaf of bread and a whole METAL can of tuna and turned the blender on. you came home to a broken, smoking blender and a gross, banana-covered king of curses who acted like this was your fault.

no table manners, sorry. you think that the happiest you've ever seen sukuna is when you're back with the groceries and there's a raw leg of lamb wrapped up in butcher's paper. delights in the idea of a rare cooked steak, but prefers to eat them bloody.

if you study (say you're in college or university) he claims he doesn't give a flying fuck about what you learn, and doesn't understand the concept of degrees. he wonders why people just aren't allowed to practice their trade, and why they need a piece of paper first. but when you're not around, he reads through your textbooks and quotes them to you afterwards. but sukuna pretends he just already knew all that shit anyway.

absolutely no patience in the morning for lazying around. you figure a big, massive being like himself can sleep through sunrise. but he's got unblinking, freaky eyes and when you crack open your eyelids in the morning, he's already looking down at you, demanding that you get up and not waste your day. at first, you worry that he just doesn't even sleep. you need not worry about that, he can knock himself flat out like an elephant that bathed in nyquil.

you asked him to help with dinner one day. kind of annoying how sukuna's very good at malicious noncompliance. you know that he is an expert in all things sharp and weapon-like, and a kitchen knife is no exception. and yet, he decides to use his long claws to cut the parsnip, slicing through them very slowly in a way that drags and creaks agains the chopping board.

sukuna rages over mario kart and rainbow. has grown oddly obsessed with the leaderboard and claims that he will vanquish the player titled 'sixeyes1989' that keeps calling him rude names online.

thinks siri is mocking him and sulks the entire day at this automated voice that seems to not understand what hes saying. you ask sukuna to gently release the grip he has on your phone before he shatters it. again.

you mentioned something about how sweet it is that your friend's boyfriend leaves her little cute notes with love affirmations on it. the next day, you find sweeping yet scrawled foreign symbols on peeled sticky notes. turns out that his version of cute love notes are ominous, medieval runes that are protection spells against curses.

does NOT play fair in games night. sukuna burned all the monopoly money when you charged him rent for mayfair. invents random words and claim they're from his era in scrabble, and he insists they count. almost set something on fire during go fish and ate the cards. has sat on a chessboard just so you wouldn't win.

[cryptfile]

Ꮺ˖˚₊ leeches, [ logan howlett x vampire!reader au ]

summary — logan howlett lacks of patience (and he can also be a nice little blood-bag while losing his temper). 8k+

warnings — 18+ mdni, fem!reader implied, blood kink (keep in mind you’re a vampire! not twilight but more of a true blood kind?) downright filth im sorry, dead dove do not eat, smoker!reader, endless tension, manhandling, praise kink, kind of porn without plot (LIES CAUSE IT HAS ONE THO??) my boy's into paaaaaain can't help it it's canon, age-gap at first (reader is her 20's but again, vampire), public sex (it just happened), daily reminder to wrap it before you tap it, p in v, choking, filthy mouth, pet names.

side notes — thought this could take place after days of the future past? au cause why nottttt ,,currently on ovulation season so bare with me,,, been a little mia cause i’m surviving aka going through the worst semester of my life at uni? internships are breaking my ass currently so well, here i am just existing, also, english’s not my first language and everyday i’m grateful for it, so any mistakes i’m not sorry in advance lol i’m also too lazy to correct once published,, feel free to send more logan requests since i've basically been a slut for him for a while now (i'm rotting in hell).

He could swear the mansion got ten degrees hotter when you came in.

It’s inevitable. It’s this thing you carry, the way you move — Graceful, elegant, almost compelling as the air fills the room. It’s not public knowledge that you’re not a mutant itself, yet you’re presented like one, like you have healing factors and age painfully slow, but human after all, a subtle lie, one that can harm no one.

It’s safe to say you catch his attention in the most annoying way: How couldn’t you? All you do is this weird seduction he’s appealed to, whether you’re conscious or not it’s just captivating, an invisible force that even when you ignore it is there, there waiting for the perfect moment to flood every time you happen to be in the same room.

Captivating. That’s the word.

The room becomes smaller after, the air grows thicker, and it’s almost like a ticking bomb, the way you wouldn’t even look at his face while he’s noticeable pinning after Jean Grey, the mystery that surrounds you and he cannot seem to resolve no matter how much time he puts into it.

It’s like he's the plague. You don’t really try to exchange more than just a few words, only when it's needed and you cannot avoid him any longer, and he didn’t say anything at first, keeping his distance too cause he don’t see how you’d become friends, cause after all, what he could have in common with a girl that doesn't surpass the twenty years?

But soon he's upset about it, even when he doesn't really say anything out loud, it's a spike he cannot reach under his skin. You seem to become friends with anyone but him, mutant kids in your history lessons, the rest of the team, even the damn mailman when he delivered a package — You'd say hello like it's a long time lover or so, greeting people like they mean the world to you.

He has students now that are asking for a transfer from his class to yours cause it seems you're fun to be around, more like he is, and he fucking hates it.

It's fair to say it's been getting into his mind lately. That thing you do with your hair, twisting it in your index finger on a lock as you speak, the subtle red glow in your eyes he always catches by mistake, not enough fast to stop looking at you, pretending he didn't even see in your direction at first.

Tension. Logan just happens to hate tension.

In fact. He's almost sure your problem is personal, that you might hate him enough to act like he didn't exist at all, enough to avoid him like he was not there.

That's why it's just so weird.

When he finds himself walking down the hallway to the kitchen and he smells this cherry-scented aroma that settles under his nostrils, he changes the direction he's walking to, to instead, follow the path to the person that was silently smoking outside. Hiding. Maybe, a student he'll have to scold like the old man he was turning into.

No smoking in the mansion!

However, as the night is just settling, he doesn't recognize a little mutant, but instead happens to recognize you in the middle of the gardens of the mansion, close to the maze; escaping the comfort of the inside to enjoy a self-rolled cherry tobacco he has smelled before in the air. He's a victim mostly, cause his legs move on it's own as his mouth go dry, approaching you in silence.

"What do you want?" you ask when he's halfway there. And your tone is just cold as ever, not an ounce of feeling as he contemplates your side profile, the way the tobacco sticks out of your parted lips, seated on a bench hidden between bushes and trees — "Is Scott bitching about the smell going into the mansion already?"

No. He's not. But he doesn't have enough reasons to explain exactly why he's outside if you asked, why, all of sudden, he followed the scent of cherry knowing it was you the only one who carried a colts package in the pocket of every single jacket you wore, constantly asking Storm if she could hold on to the bag of filters for you while you rolled in the worst moments.

It's distracting, to say the least.

"Yeah," he quickly says, lying cause in reality he hasn't seen the guy in the whole day, yet it sounds like something he would say. "Do you happen to have another one of those to share?"

You don't talk much, hand reaching his as you offered him from your tobacco without a single word, the same that was placed between your lips and now was on his in what seemed to be something more intimate than what he'd like to admit, the cherry taste filling his lungs as they weirdly enough, shared a cig.

"Aren't you too young to be smoking?"

You laugh, and the sound sends a shiver down his spine cause he has never heard a sound quite like it, nothing that resembles that throaty, raspy sound that came out of your lips in amusement thanks to his words. He, out of all people, has never seen you like that — "And how old you think I am?"

He seems to think about it for a second, carefully picking his next words. Logan knows that women and their age are a tricky thing, you cannot say a number that's too compromising, nor act stupid and say something that's clearly not correct — "Not a day over twenty-two."

The answer pleases you, and he just knows he's wrong, but you don't seem bothered by it, instead, you nod pretending he's right, like he just got the answer right away.

He can see why everyone's switching classes now. Cheeky bastards.

"Twenty-two is not young at all, but i'm twenty-seven though," you say, and he scoffs at the statement, seeking for any change in your heartbeat, any sign of a lie. The strange thing happens when he cannot pick any heart at all, any sign of pulse.

"You are pretty young still," he says, against his age, you’re just starting out living—. "You don't look like you are twenty-seven at all."

"Cause I age slower than the rest," it's a practiced lie. One you know from repeating the same explanation over and over again, the priced answer of why you haven't changed a single bit in the past few years and made you a mutant — "I never looked my age."

Such a fucking liar. He doesn't need any heartbeats to confirm it cause deep down you are a terrible actress, he can see it so clear, how you're calculating every answer, thinking about the correct thing to say, the normal thing to say.

"Is that your thing?" he asks, playing pretend almost as bad as you do. Tilting his head to the side as he questions you — "Age slowly?"

"I have healing powers," you explain as he tossed you the joint once again. "My saliva kinds of help healing wounds. It's pretty boring."

"Boring" Logan repeats. The word itself sounds so damn fun in your lips it's contradicting. "That doesn’t sound really boring."

There's a moment of silence after that. Where you smoke in silence taking in the taste of the cherry, and he is having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that your lips also touched the side of the cigar he was smoking before, the plain lies you've been repeating over and over the last ten minutes.

It's almost infuriating. Makes his blood boil without question, he surely endures your treatment of silence, but being lied to? That's a whole different level.

“How old are you, kid?”

Your brows furrow in response, a clueless face. You are pulling out this show once again Logan don’t buy for a damn second. Something about the scrunch in your nose, the way you dismissed your own powers as if they weren’t enough. He knows it’s all a lie. He knows it even when he doesn’t really know you at all, when it’s the first time you’re truly speaking to him after your arrival to the mansion almost a year ago.

“How old you really are?”

You laugh at the question once again, and he just knows it, knows it when he sees you barely illuminated by the dim light of the moon, the act you always keep up, a web of tangled lies you have to be into— “Told you i'm twenty-seven already, didn't you hear?”

“Is it now?” he asks, amused by the sass, exhaling the smoke of the low-quality tobacco he doesn't understand why you're so invested in when passed it to him—. “Cause you don’t seem very convinced, it really sounds like bullshit to me.”

You're almost offended. By the look you give it's like the worst mistake he could ever make, yet you remain silent, not giving the satisfaction of an honest answer yet. Testing his patience like he did have one to begin with.

"Is that why I can’t hear your heartbeats, darlin'? Cause you age so slowly?”

The nickname scratches a part of your brain, and you hate him for it. The word rolls out of his tongue with an accent, smoking your cherry tobacco cause you happen to be nice.

“You can’t?” you’re good at faking it suddenly, at least, that's what he thinks when your brows furrow in alleged curiosity, stiffening your back, uncomfortable. “How weird.”

“Damn right it is” that's when you realize he knows you are lying. Even when you don’t talk much, even when you act all stiff and bothered when he’s close, he knows that you are fully invested in lying. In whatever twisted little lie you've planned, like it was your real life and not something you made up. “Are you going to tell me truth, then or do I have to find out? Does the professor know that you're lying?”

The smoke lingers in the air.

“How old are you?” he asks once again, demanding an honest answer this time — "Thirty? Thirty-five?"

You find his questions annoying, mostly cause he won't stop until he gets an answer, one that pleases him enough to leave you alone, the other part cause you happen to like the playful banter you two keep going, dangerously much. You don't hate attention it's clear, what you do hate it's the way he seemed to see pass the lie, to demand more even when he has no right to.

He enjoys being the one who's right though, Logan cannot help it. He's pleased to catch that look on your face who says everything but nothing at once, to have you where he wanted, almost at the edge of admitting a truth.

Is it payback because you've been stealing all of the little mutants from his class? He's jealous cause kids like being around you? It does not make much sense, but he is fully invested. Questioning all.

Even when you're outside, it seems like the air grows thicker. And Logan finds himself seeking for your breathing, cause he don't know nothing, nothing about you more than the fact you don't seem to have a heartbeat, or pulse and now, breathing.

“If you really are that eager to know, i'm a hundred and twenty-seven” the words float in the air for a while, and he's sure you're just messing with him, cause there's no way a pretty little face like yours had endured a century. “I've been alive for quite a while.”

He doesn't fully believe it first. Of course he doesn't. Logan's sure you're messing with him also, distracting him about your real age.

“And I supposed this do come from you slow aging powers” He tries to give you a point there, but it's difficult to be serious when you're just playing with him—. "How so?"

To be honest, you do have a little temper yourself, you've learned to stand up for yourself most of the time, so when you happen to notice he's teasing you, that he doesn't really believe you, you adopt this attitude of defense he notices as you shift over the wood you're seated in.

"No, it doesn't" you steal the joint from his hands to have a smoke yourself. "You really aren't as smart as I thought you were, huh?"

Do you happen to have a dead wish? His muscles tense beneath his shirt, and in contrast of his problem, you can hear it all. All the sounds his body makes when he's all bothered just by the beat of his heart, that annoying sound his bones make each time he moves.

"What are you?"

"That's it," the praising goes directly into his chest, the tone you use to tell him he's going in the right direction it feels just so right he forgets why he got mad in the first place—. "That's what you should be asking right there."

It's almost a shame having to admit he would also switch classes. That he would also go through all the paperwork himself without a second thought and that right there, is pathetic, but you're smiling at him as if you're encouraging the man to try harder, to find the answer himself, and fuck — He's old, too old, he's tired, he's in a bad mood as fucking usual, and he happens to dig a drink in the quiet of his own room, but he's pulled by something as equal as devastating as the gravity force, shoot towards you in pure need to have some answers even if he has to make you spit them.

"I find it strange, cause when you don't have a heartbeat, you aren't usually alive" Deep down he's fascinated, hazel eyes glues on your face trying to understand. He feels like he has it in the tip of his tongue waiting to leave his mouth as a catastrophic answer, but he doesn't find the right words.

"That's cause i'm not," you state it like it's something obvious. And just as he knows you're lying, this time, he knows you're telling the truth, blowing the smoke in his direction just to bother him — "Why do you think i'm teaching history after all huh?"

He hasn't seen it all, it seems.

Yeah.

He's losing it after that night.

It’s known that Logan has sleeping problems, but that night specifically he thinks about something else rather than what usually torments him, a truth he also has to keep a secret now that he's learned more about it.

See, Logan doesn't expect you to be really dead. Much less to hear what you are and have been hiding this whole time from the rest of the people in the mansion — He also learns that you feed on blood, that vampires are a common thing in the world and that he shouldn't, at least, be that surprised when he's a mutant in a world full of humans himself.

You are a folklore myth on small villages, stories in Rumania and horror character in films, so you don't blame him when as you spoke, he finally understands why you're so damn attractive, so damn seductive as you explained more about your way of living, some memories you've been keeping to yourself since being a vampire was so damn solitary, memories he listens to cause he knows what it's like, to be misunderstood, to be eternal, to be alone as well.

It makes the two of you grow closer by the next weeks. You now talked during broad daylight about random shit at first, about the war sometimes, about your condition as he refers to when people is around, eaves-dropping on what you two are talking so invested in. Friends.

Simple as that.

And it's safe to admit also that in the course of the next days, Logan Howlett is a fucking mess, and he knows it, but he won't do anything about it.

He won't flirt cause he knows you're a hell of a woman, in every good sense of the word, that he's way too damaged for a vampire even, for all kinds of people out there, and as much as he'd like to say anything, he values your attention, how you switched the attitude of acting like he didn't exist to be a friend, one that you came to share secrets with a cherry aroma glued in their skin.

It gets him insane, to the point he's no longer spending much time with Jean and people start to pick up on it as if he didn't have enough headaches already. He doesn't care. Shit you are not bothered by what people say, and to be honest, he cannot seem to care either.

At first, he's reluctant of keep on talking to you as normal as it is. He's not really invested in religious themes, but he sure admits you're a sin by all meanings, a religious experience of some kind if anyone asked him — He agrees with what he has heard also in the hallways. Innocent conversations of teens and their platonic crush on their teachers. You are pretty hot.

He's so interested in knowing more about you, about the nights you spend in Rumania, when you leave to Canada, the different lives you've lived across the years. He finds himself looking forward to share his stories too, weird enough, cause he's over two centuries himself and he just craves to talk about it with someone who also gets him in a deeper level, that weariness that fills your body when you age so long.

You got the best of immortality, and instead of feeling envious, Logan finds himself attracted to you so much like he's never been in his whole existence. Not at the point it happened with you at least.

By the end of the first month he knows your little treats. You use a lot of sunscreen, and avoid activities outside as much as you possibly can with those classic, tiny black sunglasses that hided you from the rays of the sun, always in the shadow so unapproachable; how you'd usually dismiss food offerings from anyone who's kind enough to even offer you something, and when you haven't fed well during the course of the week, you'd become the most maddening woman he'd ever met.

Maddening.

"What wrong with you, Leech?" Leech. You've been in such a bad mood lately that when he's seating next to you in another random smoking session outside, your fingers twitch, clearly pissed at the nickname after saying multiple times you don't like it.

"I'm not in the mood for plays now."

He can tell from before. When you talked to him that very morning and stared at the collar of his flannel for what it seemed a good, nice minute, he realizes the same moment that you were staring at that pulse point in his neck, where the flesh blood was pumping in his blood flow: You're hungry, as any living creature would be and at your own manner, in constant control as you fight the sense of hunger.

So instead, the mutant ask, like he always does when he’s curious about something that involves you:

"When did you last feed?"

"A couple of weeks ago."

That would explain it. You don't talk much about your meal plan, he knows the professor is in charge of all of that. You've told him about blood bags and hospitals, but he's not really aware of how constant you need to eat, how the blood supplies most of your energy, makes you stronger, gives you vitality, so Logan at first, don't really know what its like to not drink any blood in the course of two weeks.

"What happened with the blood bags from the Hospital?"

The mention of blood out loud seems to triggers you. A groan escaping your lips as you can swear you feel the taste in your mouth — "Don't know. Haven't seen a single one this week, Charles said something about next week, problems in the bank I guess."

You're clearly worked up. It's a new look he hasn't registered before, your hair is tangled in a less-composed look, and there's a slight shake in your hands as if you're going through withdrawal, deprived for what you needed the most.

"And animals?" he questions, trying to find a solution. “Can’t you eat a cat or something?”

"Like shit i'm going to feed from a fucking animal," you're almost immediately grossed out, scrunching your nose at the idea. "I can barely handle being so close to a damn human but animals? I'd rather fucking die this time for real, no waking up."

"That bad huh?" the mutant asks, taking a sip from the beer he sneaked outside, chucking lightly afterwards. "So you're a leech with elegant taste, huh? Of course you are."

"Clean blood is rare," you explain, rolling your eyes. It's inevitable. He knows you hate the nickname so much that he insists to keep on calling you that way just to get a reaction—. "Humans nowadays taste like dirt. They consume drugs among other substances, pills, food supplements, even damn vitamins, don’t get me started about blood diseases cause it gets me in a bad temper. Every single thing affects on your taste, even what you eat. It's all registered there. Clean, good blood is rare to find. Call me elegant, call me picky. It's a damn fact."

"And what about mutant blood?" he questions. And it seems like a mere phrase at first, one with no subtle tones, he’s usually curious about your nature so you don’t pay much attention as he spoke—. “You’re picky about mutants too?”

“No, i’ve never had a mutant before.” The truth is, you hate feeding from people, the act being something so intimate, so damn personal, you refrain yourself. Killing humans, picking a next victim to fed on, is considered now a treat you don't appreciate from your kind, making you steal from hospitals and any kind of blood bank before Charles offered you help. You haven't fed from a mutant, cause you avoided everyone equally, but you don't want to be rude about it. “You all smell different, but i’d be lying. Maybe yes, i’d be picky about it too, feeding is something intimate.”

It's an undeniable admission, and now that he's trying to be in your position, he would also be picky about someone's blood. Logan remains stoic cause he’s suddenly filled by the thought of something else, a glimpse of his own weird creativity he forces himself to push aside, to really suppress now that it's not the time or the moment.

“How do I smell?” It's too late to stop the words from coming out of his mouth when he asks her. And at first, is out of pure curiosity. He has never encountered a vampire in his life until you, let alone had someone talking about the subtle tastes of the blood being undead, so he doesn't want to let the opportunity slip — Of course he wants to know if an over two hundred mutant like himself would be as remotely good as a fresh, clean bag from the hospital.

"You stink like wet dog," he surely deserves it after all the times he’s been calling you a leech — "Like those cigars you tend to smoke, alcohol, and musk. It's similar as wood. That smell you got when you're in a forest and it's not raining but straight pouring."

"Is this a way of telling me i'd taste bad, peach?"

You make a mental note to let him know after you like peach way more than leech.

"If i'd found a human smelling like that, you won't be hearing from me anytime soon" you're just messing with him. A playful banter you enjoy more than ever, the distraction you needed to think in something else rather than the blood bags you craved so deeply — "Hell, i've would just walked the other way."

"So i'm taking you won't be feeding from me anytime soon."

It all takes a dark turn there. You're very aware of the tension the last month now that you talk to him in daily basis, but it’s just mere tension, nothing that ever goes beyond the limit. Logan has never said something to flirt with you despite the million chances he got, and he always remained like a friend, one that you enjoy spending time with now. Cannot be blamed when you're taken aback.

“Cat got your tongue, kiddo?” Man. You're about to whine about the name before you remember he is indeed, older than you are. Vampire or mutant.

"You want me to feed from you?"

He seems so willing when you ask. Even when you teased about his smell calling him a wet dog. He just seems so eager to let you just do it, try a mutant for the first time.

"Yeah," he dismisses it like it's not something so deep — "I doubt Charles is going to let you take a bite since you could clearly kill him, and I'm not sure the others would be pleased with the idea of you sinking your teeth in them, so yes. Me, leech."

Logan Howlett doesn't really smell bad. And you don't know why cause he has all the ingredients to fucking stink, yet, you'd call him interesting. That's what you thought when you find his pulse point again, the vein in his neck you looked earlier in the morning, thinking just as the same you were thinking now.

Of course you would feed from him. Is it a good thing to do? No, in any other circumstances you'd decline. He's your friend.

Now? You’re having a hard time.

"So I'm guessing that you're pleased with the idea, then," Real talk?, you just want to hear him say it. He doesn't talk much usually, but now that he's very vocal about what's on his mind, you have to take advantage of it—. "I'm not sure either. But I do think Storm may be interested too."

He seems content with the response, taking a long sip from his beer before adding — "Please, go and ask her so you're less annoying."

You're almost completely sure he doesn't find you annoying. You also don't care about Storm. And maybe he knows you're not going anywhere, that you're not moving.

"You really want me to bite you?"

"I dunno now, princess" he looks at you pleased now cause he got you where he wanted to, cause he managed to awake all the interest now that you're looking at him "Are you going to pull a Dracula on me?"

"No, i'm not going to suck you dry if that's what you're asking."

Logan chuckles. He's a damn masochist. It's been like that as long as he can remember. It may have to be with his healing powers cause he likes it more than usual, but the idea gets to his head soon enough, all falling so damn fast: Your breathing would be against his neck and he'd take the bite like a damn champ.

"Yeah I can handle you," he says, aroused. "You're not gonna hurt me if you take some blood. I'll be fine and you won't be a pain in the ass."

He acts so gruff about it but you hear the sound of his heartbeat already high enough to wake the entire mansion, his labored breathing since he suggested the idea himself. He digs it, strange enough. Thrives on the idea.

He's a grown man already, and he can take a little leech like yourself.

It's clear you're hungry, cause it doesn't take much for you to accept, nodding like you're defeated, like you just lost the war entirely, cause there's no many options here to take and even if it were, you are now interested in have him more than any other blood bag. In fact. To hell with the hospital.

"Okay."

It's a simple answer, and it sure works with him as you get close to him, the bench you always used to sit now seeming so small as you look around confirming you guys really are alone—. "You won't tell anyone?"

It's something stupid to ask, cause after all that time he has never said anything, keeping your secrets as if they were his own, saving you from weird questions people get sometimes as they didn't know much about you. He's clearly not going to say nothing at all.

"Are you going to stop whining for a second and just eat darlin'? Cause I might change my mind here."

He's feeling overload soon after.

You don’t need a formal invitation to lean closer to his neck.

There's no way to describe it also cause he has never seen something like that, never felt a similar sensation more than when he's fucking, the cold touch of your fingers in his chest, taunting the vein in his neck without a previous warning before leaning in even closer than before—. "Stay still" you demand, face close against his bare skin, only one goal in mind. "Don't move for a minute. Just-"

You cannot finish the sentence, and Logan can experience the sporadic pain of the bite first hand when your teeth finally sink in his neck, piercing the flesh so easily as you let the blood fill your mouth. He grunts at the sharp pain, his face contracting momentarily before it's replaced by a nice wave of pleasure, one that hits him right in the guts as he grabs you by the nape of your neck, pushing you against him, almost demanding you to be closer, to keep on taking what you want, what you've been craving for two weeks.

When did he turned into this perverted sick? Getting off by something so primal as the fact you're feasting on him.

The feeling of your lips and the clear suck you gave when feeding are sending him into a spiral, and to be honest, he didn't expect to be so devastated by you, by the way your fingers stay against his chest to prevent him from moving, pinning the mutant between the wood bench and yourself so he won’t move, won’t do anything unless you want him to,pressing on the wound to draw more blood out.

"You heal so damn fast," you complain, looking at the traces of your bite with an unpleased face as they disappeared on his skin as fast as you created them.

"Then bite me again. I don't care."

You chuckle before leaning once again, and you can feel how the air grows hotter than how it was usually, the shift on his breathing as you bite him again, pressing on the wounds once again just to suck.

And you’re hungry, it’s the whole deal. His taste differs from what you believe at first, a huge change from what humans taste like, from what you’re used to deal with in hospitals. There’s a subtle taste of alcohol yes, but it mixes good with the sweet taste of honey, the weird taste you cannot put into words. It must be a mutant thing for sure cause it’s thicker than usual, a mix of flavors that explode in your tongue.

The headache you suffered from the whole week seems to dissapear as you drink in, feeding the monster you responded to in your stomach, demanding you to make him bleed more, to satisfy yourself until you can’t have any more.

Logan, on the other hand, is really fighting against his very own war.

You’re already close enough, but he just wants you damn closer, as much as he possibly can. It’s clear that well, it hurts slightly, but he has endured much worse, means nothing when it’s the pleasure that comes with it who strikes on his body, the light sucking, the idea you’re full of his blood, that you are not on trouble as you were before thanks to him. All because of him.

He's not used to acts on his impulses, but he does it anyway.

"C'mere" he says in a strangled voice, Logan's having no trouble moving you around, grabbing you by the hips to make you straddle him, keeping you glued to his neck as he doesn't want to disturb you—. "You really are a pretty leech, huh?”

You hum against his skin, pleased at the contact, and when he realizes you’re not complaining about his actions, he let his fingers grip your tights, keeping you against him.

You can hear him making this sound, quite like a moan but not exactly when you’re licking the holes you left in his skin, he does heal fast and don’t need any of your help when you’re done, but you coat his skin with your saliva anyway just to speed up the process, cause you want to do it, looking down to him after to check if he’s pale or nearly dead. You never really know.

And Logan himself is just fine cause his fingers gather the blood under your lip when he takes the sight of you sitting in his lap as the pearly white rays of moonlight makes your skin shine, and he pushes them inside your mouth so you don't waste any drop of what it can be considered food.

"So what's the final verdict?" he asks as his hands are now grabbing your tights, there's something so intimate about the moment, so personal, hot as he presses his fingers against the flesh of your muscles, he understand what you said before—. "Do I taste like utter shit?"

"Well, i’d need another taste to have my final decision" he laughs, and he don't really laugh often so the unexpected sound sends a shiver down your spine now that you’ve heard the sound quite a while now—. "Not much, just a little."

“Have you fill then, peach” He encourages you. “I want you full so you don’t whine the rest of the week.”

You don’t have any heartbeat, but if you did, it would be ragging in your ears at his words. At the warmth he’s spreading like a disease on her body that, despite being dead and cold, you can feel more than ever.

“I like peach,” you admit, this time pressing a soft kiss before directly hurt him—. “Leech is annoying.”

He’s going to say something, tease you about it maybe but he’s interrupted by the nice feeling of what he considers are your fangs tearing his skin apart, familiarity hitting him all sudden as he moans, a rough sound that comes from the deep of his throat, hands coming down to squeeze your ass, making you gasp against his neck when you experience the aching need physically forming in his pants.

“Still,” you say, concentrated on not allowing the wounds to close. But at the lack of complaints on what he's doing, Logan’s hands kept wandering around, making you move against his now clearly stiffed cock—. “Fuck’s sake I said still.”

“Stop being a damn brat. You can eat while I move you,” he grunts annoyed, shoving you against him, the friction of his jeans against the thin fabric of your shorts is enough to keep you quiet: Feeding from a stranger and feeding from a person you’re attracted to are two different things, especially in the position you find yourself in. “You don’t have to do anything. Quit whining about it.”

In response, your fingers press against the wound, not caring if it hurts or if it bothers him, but just enough to get him to bleed more and prevent the cut from closing, lapping at the blood that gathered over his collarbone, staining his white tank before you could even avoid it.

Your fingers grab the fabric just to pull it slightly down so it won't bother you, and the deep sound his chest make when he mocks about your desperation is stuck on your brain for the next couple of minutes, indulging in his taste, shutting up the rest of the world.

A moan comes out of your lips, muffling it against his skin. You're too zoomed out to hear it, but he's on a hell of a ride too, moaning as he demands more. It's been a while since the last time you did something like that, combine the pleasure of something as primal as eating with a mundane activity like sex, so you kind of forgot how good it felt, blaming yourself from depriving from something so needed.

"Do you always get this turned on when someone bites you?"

"No" Logan answers as you finish. He's rock hard beneath you, and he lets you know it when he's controlling the movement of your hips, working you against him at a slow pace—. "See, the woman i'm trying to seduce don't usually bite me, nor make me their main dinner plate."

You whine at the friction.

He looks down to the cause of all his damn problems just to notice his pants being damped with nothing but a physical form of need, soothing the uncomfortable fabric of his blue jeans — "So wet for me already, you’re making a damn mess, do you always get this turned on when feeding?"

Cheeky bastard.

He's using your own words against you, and you cannot be less bothered as you laugh softly, licking your lips only cause you know there's dried blood in them, drowned in his smell, the honey taste that lingered in your mouth.

“No, I don’t.”

At the sight, Logan's hand grabs your jaw in a rough movement, making you look at him before making you kiss him, deepening the contact as fast as you give him the chance. His tongue is soon invading your bucal cavity as he takes control of it, slow, intense and needy, as if he was holding on so much time before giving in to his own desires.

It is something like that.

You don't need to breathe in daily basis, but there's a burning sensation in your chest of wanting, of infinite lust you've been also experiencing by yourself.

The old mutant can taste his own blood in your mouth, a metallic taste as he keeps on kissing you until your lips are pink and puffed. He has thought so much about it that now that he has the opportunity, he devours as if he's a starved man having his first meal in what seems are ages.

"You didn't tell me if I tasted bad."

You think about it for a second.

"I'm afraid you're a rare breed cause it doesn't make any sense" You don't need any help now moving, cause you're rolling your hips on top of him at your own pace, allowing him to use his hands for something else—. “You have all the ingredients to taste like shit, but it's nothing but the contrary, even better than the fucking blood bags.”

“Sounds like your going to make me your meal plan, darlin. I’m here offering you a hand and you just take everything,” — “Such a greedy little vampire.”

He doesn't seem to care though, same as before he's nothing but willing to let you take everything as much as he tries to bark about it. He's more worried about his hands now that they're sliding down your oversized shirt, tracing patterns over your stomach, his touch so hot against your usually cold temperature.

"Logan," you whine,— "Someone can see us out here."

"Now you care about that?" his hazel eyes are a shade darker when he speaks. "After you're nice and full of my blood?"

His hands are big enough to take your whole cunt, allowing his digits to roam over the fabric of your underwear, almost thanking you for using those loosened pajama shorts he has seen before that very night as he just takes the fabric and pull it to the side.

"Nobody is going to see us. It's late and everyone's sleeping, leech" he teases you, and you cannot bring yourself to care about the nickname at the feeling of his hand taunting you from over the fabric—. "If you can bite me here outside, you might as well take my cock here too."

You cannot battle against that. You're deep in whatever spell he puts you into, giving in to the attraction and the tension that now needs to be taken care of. Logan's fingers touch you in nothing but experience, cause he knows how to please after so much time alive, how much pressure he needs to apply to leave you plain dumb, pliable for him.

"D'you think I need to stretch you out before fucking you?" he asks against your neck after leaving a reasonable-sized hickey in the zone, he likes the idea of people finding out about what you've been doing with him the next morning. "Or you're a big girl and can take me all by yourself?"

He'd like to take your time with you. Thoroughly enjoy you as much as he wants to, let everyone know you're his now, that you're shuddering thanks to him only, but he's too needy for that, too deprived of you to take his time.

"I want you to use that pretty mouth of yours and talk to me," he demands, coming up to look at your face while torturing you, his index and middle finger rubbing your clit from over the underwear—. "I'm not properly touching you yet and you're losing it already, peach. C'mon, you can talk to me still."

"I can take you," you say in a strangled voice. "Please Logan, please."

It's the plea of your tone that gets him, the soft begging of an ache he can only soothe, your face while you ask for more, not aware of anything else but him.

"Please what?"

"Please just fuck me already," you ask in frustration—. "I just need you to fill me up for a damn while."

You are starting to love the sound of his laugh. The deep sound he makes when he’s really enjoying something, his voice in damn general.

"Be a good little vampire" He says in a gentle tone. Logan’s trying to be kind even when his touch is so rough. "Unbuckle my pants and take my cock out. My hands are busy now, and you can do it yourself."

He is busy indeed. Toying with your underwear being the only thing that’s keeping him from the direct contact, pushing the fabric against your hole as it works as a barrier, preventing his digits to fuck you as he’d like to. He’s busy keeping you in place, preventing you from downright melt as your hands came up to unbuckle his belt first, the sound of the metal as it moves filling the air for a couple of seconds before you put all your attention in the button of his jeans, the zipper coming down with the force you’re using.

“Yeah baby,” he praises—. “You’re doing so good, keep going.”

When you pull the fabric of his briefs down, he’s already leaking for you, pink head, slightly curved to the side, moaning, erratically how much he needs your hands on him, how you're wet and ready for his cock. You close your fist around him, stroking slowly as your hips lift up enough to position yourself on top of him.

He’s big. Damn fucking right he is, you’d expected it from before cause sometimes you swear you can see his full length in his jeans, but taking him in your hand is a struggle but itself.

“Are you going to take me yourself or do you need my help? I know you can.”

Despite his words, he does help. Grabbing the black fabric of your underwear to finally make it to the side, the tip of his dick pushing against your clit before he's the one to place it in your leaky hole, forcing himself slowly, giving you time to take him in, inch by inch.

“Good girl," he says, head rolling backwards for a brief moment as he experiences the warm sensation of your walls surrounding him, clenching against his cock as he keeps one hand on your hip, helping you as you lower yourself over him. "Let me look at you.”

His fingers grab your jaw, squeezing you as he makes you look back at him, pushing you once again as you holded a loud moan. He's stretching you at his need.

"One more time," he begs. "One more time and you got it, peach. You're almost there."

Jesus fuck. You can feel yourself getting dizzy. You've drank a lot of blood and you're now overwhelmed by this intense pleasure that formed in your lower stomach, gathering there and waiting for the perfect moment to explode—. "Fuck I-"

Logan's pampering you with kisses as a mere distraction, his lips travelling through your neck to your collarbone before you're finally seated on top of him, a muffled moan you need to shut filling the calm of the night.

"Fuck you're tight," he exhales, and he's lost in the sensation, the way your velvety walls welcome him inside. He stays still for a moment, giving you time to adjust, to make you the one who starts moving on top of him.

You can see his veins popping up. All over his chest and coming down to his shoulders and his arms, and god gracious — He smells so fucking good you’re tempted to ask if you can have a bite again.

The moment feels longer than usual, the seconds pass slowly as you stay there. Logan’s hands are just touching your skin from under your oversized t-shirt, taking in the low moans you gave him, the almost perceptible whispers as you get used to him, to his size.

He likes the intimacy of it, the bliss. Man you look so pretty in his lap when the light of the moon is stripping you all to his eyes, even if you’re fully dressed an he’s seated in a damn bench, he cannot enjoy it more, pulling you in for a needy kiss, one that is rougher than the first one and leads you to move inevitably.

His cock pushes past that nice spot inside, and the friction is enough to make you move again, rocking your hips at a slow pace for a few seconds. The sound of your moans is silenced by his demanding kisses, and now that he knows you can handle him, his grip on your hips turn more firm now, squeezing the skin there so he can control your speed, the rythm of your movements now faster than before.

“Shh, don’t whine” what he lacks of vocal usually, he pours it all in just fucking, talking you through it when he feels you’re being too loud—. “Do you want to wake the others? We can’t have them seeing you like this, all fed up and cock-drunk.”

“Let me bite you again,” you ask soon enough. And it takes a lot to do it, cause you’re doing it out of pure greed, cause you can’t have enough.

“Take whatever you want, leech, just don’t make me faint” he jokes, his panted breathing betraying him as he moans, incredibly interested in the idea—. “Want to be conscious when you cum all over my dick.”

Logan’s sure your eyes glisten in a red color as you lean over his neck. And this time is less affectionate, much less gentle as you finally bite him again, teeth piercing the flesh so easily his hips jolts against you in response of the sharp pain your fangs create, the warm sensation of his blood in contrast of your cold touch, tongue-licking all you get from him.

And fuck it feels good.

He shrudders beneath you, shaking his head just slightly at reflex of pain before continue working his way with you, placing his hand between your tights as he lets his fingers rub on your sensitive clit, just enough to make you bite on his neck harder, the lewd sounds of your cunt taking him between holded moans as you suck on his neck.

“That’s it taking me so good,” He praises — “You like that, princess? Like how you’re full of me?”

You hum against his skin. The blood coates your chin as it goes down through his chest, staining his white tank for a couple of seconds before the holes your teeth made finally closes on their own.

It’s pure ecstasy. He can feel it when you clenching around his cock, cheeks red from his blood going now through your system, his vitality, his energy.

You can feel him fucking everywhere. So when you kiss him it’s all teeth, bite and his blood.

The pleasure’s taking control of you now, and Logan’s dizzy from the blood loss, his body covered now in sweat as his words slur together, not threading any coherent thought.

“That’s it,” he says, making you bounce of his cock. “Gonna’ have you in my room then, all spread out f’me.”

His hand wrap around your neck tightly, keeping the direct contact as he chokes you. Shit. You don’t need to say a word. Logan already got you.

“James-” he’s too deep to question why you’re using that name with him. How you facade is crushing down now as you let go.

When your body trembles on top of him he’s already cumming too, the squeeze on his cock sufficent to fuck him up personally, his bruising grip on your hips shoving you as deep as he possibly can as his release hits him like a brick falling from the damn sky.

He lets you work for it, ride each second of your high, milk him dry as a white circle of his own cum mixed with your juices coated the base of his cock, his underwear now slick with your orgasm.

He’s struggling to breathe, to properly say something as you’re finally coming down from your peak, looking at him through half lidded eyes.

“Did you called me James?” he questions, and you’re a damn bad liar, cause he knows imediately you’re hidding something cause of the look on your face—. “Do we know each other? From before.”

You don’t know how to respond at first, at least, cause you cannot lie in a position like that now.

“Well uh. It’s quite a long story here.”

Before you can continue he gets up, making you wrap your legs around his hips before stsrting to walk to the mansion.

“Logan-” you say in a strangled moan yourself, still sensitive as he’s balls-deep inside you.

“It will be less than two minutes, leech” he responds gruffily,— “Need to get you into my room so I can enjoy you the rest of the night, and you can tell me all of it.”

He don’t care if he’s bloody or a damn mess as he squeezes your ass climbing up the stairs, much less if anyone see the two of you in that state.

“I want to hear all the details, Cause I have a weird feeling that this has happened before.”

You cannot find a reasonable excuse to say no as the man’s already reaching the second floor.

Logan’s fucked after that night. When he learned about all that you were before, weirdly connected to you through the decades.

It must be the bite isn’t? Shit. He’s more in sync than ever now that you’ve been feeding from him a lot the last few weeks.

Ah. You fucking leech.

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[astroismypassion]

Astrology observations 🏕🚐⛺️

Credit goes to @astroismypassion

🚐🏕 Pisces Juno can outlive their committed partner, marriage spouse.

⛺️🚐 Libra MC might be well-known for promoting self-love, wellness and well-being. These are the natives that remind those around them to take care of themselves in a caring, compassionate way.

🏕🚐 Wherever there is Gemini over your Natal chart is very duality is present. If you have Gemini over the 5th house, you could crush or develop a romantic interest on two people. If you have Gemini over the 7th house, you could feel tempted to be in a partnership with two people. If you have Gemini over the 4th house, you could have two mothers or mother figures. If you have Gemini over the 3rd house, you may not be able to choose between two best friends to make one your true best friend, so you could have two best friends instead. If you have Gemini over the 9th house you could have 2 marriage partners in your life. If you have Gemini over the 1st house, you could be consciously or not put in situations in your life where you are the second person in some scenario. If you have Gemini over the 8th house, you could have 2 people you are physically intimate with or/and you share a deep trusted bond. If you have Gemini over the 11th house you could belong to two friend groups. If you have Gemini over the 2nd house, you attract people that could date two people at once.

🏕🚐 Libra Chiron or Chiron in the 7th house, even some Venus Chiron aspects are sometimes trying to “buy” love by overextending themselves, such as doing acts of service, giving gifts in attempt to win a romantic interest over.

🚐⛺️ Sagittarius Ascendant either is overdoing it in a romantic partnership or »underperforming«. These natives either give a lof attention, affection, care, gifts to their partner or they are withdrawing that energy and not doing enough.

🏕🚐 Based on real life patterns, I noticed that often you make fun of your Jupiter sign, house, degree, even Jupiter aspects to other planets. So if you have Jupiter in the 2nd house, you may try to mimic words, gestures, actions in a humorous manner and make fun of Taurus Sun.

🚐⛺️ If you have Taurus Juno, you could attract a committed partner, spouse that collects things just in case they will use it later. Huge »hoarder spouse« placement.

🏕🚐 I mentioned before in answers to mailbox questions, but 4th house Synastry really is much more clingy than 12th house. With 12th house Synastry there is occasional ghosting, you're ignoring each other due to misinterpreted actions or words, you forget to answer the other person or you pretend you didn't see them or you are just a bit oblivious or unaware. But with 4th house is non-stop clingy energy. People you have 4th house Synastry will want you attention, be in your energy or around you daily. So it can really get tiring, much more than it is with 12th house Synastry.

⛺️🚐 I think it's not talked enough how Libra Chiron people attract a lot of people who abuse substances or/and narcissistic romantic partners.

🚐🏕 Gemini Juno people get very, very quickly embarassed by something their partner did or said. But to be fair, Gemini Juno natives quite often do or say something to embarass themselves too.

⛺️🚐 Pisces North Node and North Node in the 12th house people often sacrifice their own health and well-being by being dedicated to something, which can in the long run cause them ilness or health issue, condition.

🚐🏕 In Composite charts, the woman and how she feels about the connection, acts is represented by the Moon placement. The man, the more masculine energy is represented by the Sun placement. But the second thing I noticed interpreting Composite charts is also that Venus placement serves as »a second Composite Moon« which also shows further the traits of the woman, feminine in the connection. And Mars placement is »the second Composite Sun« which shows the traits of the man more in-depth.

🚐⛺️ I think Juno house really shows more the location of meeting your partner rather than their traits. Juno house shows circumstances, where you meet them, what was happening around. So Juno in the 6th house would point to meeting at work. I would say Juno sign more so indicates traits rather than getting along with person who has planets in that sign. For example, you could have Gemini Juno and wish for a talkative partner who is active and present in conversations, but you may prefer more stability than person with Gemini placements can offer. Most often I think people don't really like the typically personality of their Juno sign, but more so just bits of it. So if you have Gemini Juno, you may not like someone who gossips, but more so you like that they are able to keep the conversation going with stimulating topics.

Credit goes to @astroismypassion

[miss-vanta-likes-to-write]

Speaking of colleges what abt Simeon x graduating reader. She’s graduating from Yale law or smth and doesn’t have much support from her family bc of their outdated views on how women should be/ act like .So Simeon shows up to her graduation to support her? Sorry I just love fluff omg

Sorry this took so long, and this was written with moments of me being lucid, lol. I like how it turned out. Thank you for trusting me to bring this to fruition.

Pairing: Simon x Reader

Title: And you came? Just for me?

CW: None fluff

It had been a long time coming, four years plus the two year accelerated law school, and you're finally done. What should be a day filled with happiness settled in your bones as dread. Your family, while they sent you off to school, did so with the idea that you would be getting your Mrs degree. So when you ended up with a bachelor's instead of an eligible bachelor, they were dismayed. They spent a good deal of money on your sorority dues, making sure you got into the right rooms and parties and charities with handsome young men. Your sister was able to do it, and she didn't even stay long enough to complete a two year degree. Which was great for her because it's what she wanted. She wanted to be a kept wife and mother, and you were happy for her.

The night before, your mother fussed and complained that the best parts of your twenties were wasted, and thirty was fast approaching. With a career in the way, how could you get married and have children? No man wants a career oriented wife or a woman who makes as much or more than him.

They would be distraught over your boyfriend and his background and his work. You met him during one of your internships. Your focus was on international law, and your professor had recommended you to work under his brother's law firm that dealt with government law and the wonderful world of war crimes. It was an operation that accidentally became public, and your mentor was assigned to work with some fancy task force to help clean up the various crimes they committed.

He was tall, broad, brooding, and had an air of danger about him. While everyone else had made themselves friendly and approachable, he was steadfast, not wanting to talk or be bothered. He made you angry at first. He broke treatises, caused mayhem, and for what, the good of the world? So when your mentor, tired as she was, tried to get him to recount his version of events, he didn't. You blew up at him and slammed your files onto the table. Shouting that the least he could do was pretend to care about true justice and doing right by the law and that he would be no better than the terrorists he fought if he couldn't answer to a judge and try to justify his actions.

Since that outburst, the brooding man, who told you to call him Simon, had been a constant in your life. He lived his life hard and fast, mission after mission, but always finding time for you and some how a relationship blossomed. It started off with coffee outside of his and his team's barely visible court case. Then, it turned into nights at a bar quietly chatting away in the darkness of the booth towards the back. Somehow, Simon ended up wriggling into your time and days even after the court case was closed, and he and his team acquitted (which almost didn't happen but your mentor either knew people or was just that good or it was a sham case to cover up something else).

Before you knew it, Simon had said "I love you" even though the timing was off. He was getting ready for a deployment. He'd be gone for a minimum of six months, and he wasn't sure about the success rate of him coming back in one piece. Still, he said those three words to you over the video call. His honey brown eyes looked at you as if you were the center of the world. He had said that he loved that you were smart, beautiful, and had a firey passion for bringing the dark to light, and that was what you had done to him. Each smile you gave him, each stolen kiss before he had to leave your side, all of it made him feel like he was standing in the sunlight. He even admitted that he was too scared to confess to you in person.

You didn't care because you loved him too. He was a constant presence in your life. Someone who wasn't a mentor that saw you for you. He wasn't your backward and complicated family that saw you for only bettering the family line. He made you feel like you were doing the right thing, following your dreams.

That was seven months ago. He warned you that he wouldn't be able to talk while he was gone. You hoped and prayed that he was surviving whatever trials he was in. Meanwhile, you were in the middle of graduating, doing your best to ignore the hurt that your family didn't come to see your achievement. There was nobody in the crowd to shout your name at the small ceremony. No flowers or anyone to take your picture.

The speaker had called your name, and to your surprise, you hear shouts and hollers. You look over into the family and friends seating section and see Simon and his team. There's him, Price, Kyle, and Johnny. Johnny has a poster board up that has your name with atrocious writing on it. All of them are still dressed in what you assume to be their field clothes without being fully kitted up. Simon had forgone his balaclava for a black medical mask, but he still had that imposing black eye paint around his eyes. All of them looked raggered and tired, but happy to see you walk across the stage.

After the closing ceremony, you book it towards Simon. You're not even sure how he's here! He's supposed to be in a gun fight somewhere. He said sorry on the last call for not being able to make it, already planning to make up missing this milestone.

His arms stetch out, and he catches you as you throw yourself into him.

"You came!?" You pressed yourself into him. He smelled like gunpowder, and whatever else he probably hastily freshened up with. You didn't care, he was here! "You really came Simon!"

He hushed you and moved his mask so he could press his lips to your head. "It was a tight margin, but I couldn't miss the love of my life's achievements."

Extra

They had just barely touched down on friendly soil before Simon was rushing everyone into the truck. Price had managed to get their flight redirected to the nearest airport close to his Bird's college. What was supposed to be an hour and a half drive was about to be done in 45 minutes because in two hours his girl would be walking the stage. With the way the mission went, you would have thought Simon was the captain leading it instead of Price.

(Price had joked that this would be the mission that makes Simon a Captain, and then he could retire and let his boys run loose in the world.)

"Si! Are ye even goin' tha speed limit!?" Johnny shouted as the truck swerved through traffic. He was holding on to the little grab bar by the window for life.

Kyle was doing his best to write a good message on the poster board. "We should have gotten a police escort!"

"Ghost we aren't gonna make that light!" Price shouted.

Simon took it as a challenge and pressed hard on the acceleration. The four of them flew through the yellow light just as it turned red.

"She's got nobody there to watch her cross that stage Cap." He was calm on the outside, but on the inside, he was sweating. He was gonna surprise his love, come hell or high-water.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

He wasn’t the main point but I can’t stop thinking about Steve in ‘three times’, like what a man. Just hard, quick, decisive with just enough tenderness somewhere in all that loyalty. Is he lonely at all? Like, who does he have to love on? I’d gladly volunteer. Beautiful story and writing!

a/n: oh oh oh! SAAAAMMMEE! i tell you, when i was writing that fic, i kept on catching myself drooling over steve (lol as you can tell by the big part he played in the story) and had to snap myself out of it all the time because it wasn't a steve fic. but yes yes yeesss, i did think about who he has to love on hehe, let me share the thoughts ৎ୭

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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i think his girl would be just the sweetest little cinnamon roll ever

maybe you started working at the cafe near his home, just part-time while you’re finishing a degree

he was already a regular there, so when you started working there, not long passed before, a) you developed a huge crush on him, and b) since he came in there all the time, his usual order became almost imprinted on your brain since it was one of the few sentences you heard him utter that your heart clung onto

so the first time that you finished his sentence with the correct kind of coffee, that was the moment that snapped him out of his usual mundane haze and forced him to truly notice you for the first time.

and before he knew it, he had fallen into a legitimate relationship with you, more serious than any other he'd let himself experience.

it's very too sweet by hozier coded... because you truly are too sweet, too pure, too good for him... but that's also why he can't get himself to stop...

he keeps on telling himself that he needs to cut off ties to you, that you deserve better and that this can only end one way, with you getting hurt. but every time he tries, he just has to look into your eyes and the words crumble from his lips like they never existed at all.

and also, the last thing he wants for you to know is the kind of man he really is and the blood he has on his hands.

but when he’s with you, he isn't a dangerous mobster. he can just pretend that he's something else, just a regular guy like the one you believe he is. when he's with you, he can step into the world where everything is good, where wishes come true and it's borderline a fairytale compared to his reality.

he could never tell you the truth about who he is because at best it would just scare you, but at worst, it could potentially get you into trouble that you of all people don't deserve.

so he keeps it a secret.

even if the excuses he fumbles to come up with aren't always that great, you still haven't found out.

he'd rather you think that he is a klutz who gets into minor accidents and hurts himself all the time than have you know about how he really gets banged up too often to count.

he'd also rather have you think that he's an asshole for showing up late or not at all, than you knowing what grim truths had kept him.

maybe one day he does tell you everything and he spends the rest of his days protecting you and keeping you a secret from everyone in his world...

or maybe he doesn't. maybe he finds a way to do the impossible and get out of the life, but only for his past to catch up to him years down the line and blow up the perfect little white picket life you'd built together...

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble  

[wilwheaton]

Like most things, I think that [this divide in the comedy world politically has] always been there, but it’s been really stirred up to a crazy degree by social media. Because before social media, when I was coming up, there were always dudes who wanted to tell you what real comedy was. And it was one dude with a microphone. It’s club comedy and that’s the way it is. That’s the “real” comedy. And what we’re seeing now is just that jacked up to a thousand. People saying a comedian’s duty is to offend, and it’s like, what are you fucking talking about? That’s not true. "And just offend, period? It doesn’t matter who? That idea comes from speaking truth to power, which has completely fallen by the wayside. You’re pretending these people are in power, like trans people saying, “Hey, I’d prefer that you call me this.” And they’re like, “No, we can’t let this happen!” It’s just bullying. You’re just being a troll. You’re not speaking truth to power.

Paul F. Tompkins Takes on Comedians Who Only Aim to Offend

You’re pretending these people are in power, like trans people saying, “Hey, I’d prefer that you call me this.” And they’re like, “No, we can’t let this happen!” It’s just bullying. You’re just being a troll. You’re not speaking truth to power.

You’re pretending these people are in power, like trans people saying, “Hey, I’d prefer that you call me this.” And they’re like, “No, we can’t let this happen!” It’s just bullying. You’re just being a troll. You’re not speaking truth to power.

You’re pretending these people are in power, like trans people saying, “Hey, I’d prefer that you call me this.” And they’re like, “No, we can’t let this happen!” It’s just bullying. You’re just being a troll. You’re not speaking truth to power.

You’re pretending these people are in power, like trans people saying, “Hey, I’d prefer that you call me this.” And they’re like, “No, we can’t let this happen!” It’s just bullying. You’re just being a troll. You’re not speaking truth to power.

You’re pretending these people are in power, like trans people saying, “Hey, I’d prefer that you call me this.” And they’re like, “No, we can’t let this happen!” It’s just bullying. You’re just being a troll. You’re not speaking truth to power.

You’re pretending these people are in power, like trans people saying, “Hey, I’d prefer that you call me this.” And they’re like, “No, we can’t let this happen!” It’s just bullying. You’re just being a troll. You’re not speaking truth to power.

You’re pretending these people are in power, like trans people saying, “Hey, I’d prefer that you call me this.” And they’re like, “No, we can’t let this happen!” It’s just bullying. You’re just being a troll. You’re not speaking truth to power.

[slayerdurge]

You know, I think one of my favorite things about a super evil play through is actually how hard it is to net approval with even the most potentially evil-leaning companions.

Astarion talks a big game about how much he likes violence and evil, and he does often give you approval for those types of actions, but you get this distinct impression from interactions with him that he's just sort of put on a permanent mask. I saw this post going around that Astarion dislikes it when you are very benevolent and heroic because he's thinking "How can there be so much goodness in the world but none of it was ever for me? It's not fair." And I think that's true. And I think when you actually take him down the road he claims he wants to go down, he takes on this mentality of "Ah, yes. Of course. I knew it. The world is without love." And he tries to pretend that it doesn't bother him but there are moments you can see it breaking through that it does. That's why I'm at the end of Act 1 of nonstop evil and I can't get him past medium approval.

On the other hand, I can't even get Shadowheart past neutral approval. She goes back and forth on giving me approval and disapproval, and, in my experience, she does the same exact thing in a good play through. I always find it hardest to predict what Shadowheart will approve of or disapprove of because she's so inconsistent. I think this is because her whole story is about the fact that she doesn't know who she is. I mean, she literally can't remember much about her life, to begin with. But also, she's in a state of indecision, not only does she not remember who she is, but she hasn't decided yet who she wants to be. Or more precisely she feels like who she wants to be is not a real option. She is definitely the companion (of the ones I actually had) who reacted most poorly to raiding the Grove. She got drunk and she went off about how it's not a real victory if you're killing people who can't even defend themselves. But then the next day she acted totally different. She was sober, and she took on this mentality of "Goblins killed some people. They didn't kill us. Time to move on." So she reasserted this control over herself that she has on most of the time, that had mostly only slipped because she was so upset and because she was drunk.

Lae'zel has been the easiest for me to get approval with. She got up to high approval very quickly, and she's currently at very high approval and stays there consistently. I think this is because she's way more honest than either Astarion or Shadowheart. She really is what she says she is. She's ruthless. And I don't actually mean that she inherently has to be evil. It is very possible to take her down a good path and convince her to embrace ideals of freedom. But I do think that her persona is far more honest than either Astarion or Shadowheart's is. And I think this makes sense because she was raised in a whole society of believers in "might makes right" who have believed in that for many generations and she was given chances to excel in that society rather than completely victimized. This is very different from Astarion because he was always a victim and never had an opportunity to actually strive for power. It is likely more similar to what Shadowheart would have experienced, though I think her memory loss complicates this, but it also just seems like Shadowheart doesn't take to ruthlessness as naturally. They both had to adopt that mentality because it was the only way they could survive, but I think Lae'zel is just better at it because she's just a way more straight-forward person. I think it's also why if she does decide to go against Vlaakith, it's an instant 180-degree change in her allegiance. She doesn't have to waver like Shadowheart does in regards to Shar, she just goes "This is what I believe now." and just switches.

Anyway, yeah... you learn so much about them on an evil play through... can't wait to torture them some more.

[thepigeonhasapen]

🍇SFW A-Z: Dionysus!🍇

Gonna do one of these for everyone, but I'll start out with everyone's favorite high-functioning alcoholic first! 🥂

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Highly. I mean, this is Dionysus we're talking about. If he hasn't touched at least ten of his friends by mid-morning, he's either having a really bad day or somebody else is pretending to be him and you should probably figure out what happened to the real Dionysus. Back-slaps, hugs, lazy post-drinking snuggling; Dionysus loves them all. If he has a lover, you can bet he's pulling them up to sit in his lap. Pray that you are not big or strong enough to pick him up because, if it's been a while since you've seen him, he can and will do that thing were he runs and leaps into your arms. If he's bigger than you, he'll grab you around the waist and spin you around. Either way, someone's getting picked up.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

You'd think a requirement for being Dionysus's friend would be a love for parties, but that's not quite true. All you have to do to be Dionysus's friend is literally be just any degree of a chill. We're all here to have a good time, right? Raining on anyone's parade is a good way to get on Dionysus's bad side. Or at least make him slightly pissy with you. His one hard requirement for an absolute best friend though, would have to be loyalty. Stick up for him. Don't talk shit behind his back. Maybe hold his hair back while he throws up. Yeah, he's the party guy but he's not just the party guy, you know? His best friend would have to stick with him even when he's not at his best. And in terms of reciprocity, Dio is great. Absolute gossipy bitch. Always in your corner. Will make time for you if you're having a problem. Expect lots of hanging off of you while he brags about how cool his bestie is to everyone who even vaguely looks like they're listening.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Pretty sure I already went over this one, but Dionysus is an absolute cuddle monster. Doesn't even have to be with a romantic partner. My man is the KING of platonic snuggling. He gets especially clingy when he's extremely wasted, but even when he's more sober (because come on, he's never completely sober,) he has no problem with just laying back and having a good cuddle.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Does Dionysus ever want to settle down. Does the god of festivities and merriment and madness ever want to settle down. What do you think? Crazy partying is kind of his thing, here! That being said, I feel like Dionysus can cook crazy well. He's picked up a lot of little tricks from all the different people he hangs with. But cleaning up after himself? I mean, his personal chambers on Olympus are pretty tidy but that's mostly because he's never there.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

People might get mad at me for this one, but here goes. Dionysus is all about good times. You know what's not a good time? Break ups. If he's no longer interested, he won't say as much, he'll just... stop hanging out with you until he's full on ghosting you. He hopes you'll get the hint so he doesn't actually have to have a conversation about it and bring the whole vibe down. If he's no longer feeling the relationship, it's likely that he no longer likes you at all, so if a confrontation is forced, Dionysus won't be kind about it. He just wants to get it over with. Gods are fickle. He's fickle. He just wants to get back to the things he enjoys already. Look, nobody ever said he was the god of healthy relationships.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Would Dionysus marry? I mean, maybe? It would depend on how serious he is about the relationship. He's had lots of spur of the moment "marriage" ceremonies. But if he actually does love a person and really, truly knows that he wants to be with them forever, then, yeah. Dio's putting a ring on that.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Depends on how much he likes you. Dionysus is always gentle, physically at least. He's aware of his strength and knows he can be a bit much so he makes sure to rein it in. Even when play-fighting or wrestling, he tries to keep a handle on his strength. However, verbally, Dionysus can be a bit blunt. He will try to be as nice as he can, but he's not known for beating around the bush. If there's something on his mind, he'll bring it up. That being said, you can whole-heartedly believe any compliment he gives you because he's not known for lying just to be polite.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Hugs are just standing cuddles, of course Dionysus loves them. I feel like he goes in more for a quick side-hug though or an arm around your waist or shoulders. He wants to be touching at all times, but he'd also like to have a hand free to do stuff, y'know? And that stuff totally isn't hold his wine glass. However if you really need a serious, down-to-earth hug, Dionysus gives the best ones. He's warm and he knows how to hold on just tightly enough and he'll plant little kisses on the top of your head. It also doesn't hurt that he always smells lovely; of grape juice and flowers and spices.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Yesterday. Last week. He's already said it. Dionysus loves everyone. It won't be by his words that you'll know that you're close with Dionysus. It'll be his actions. When he leaves his party to come check on you because he noticed you were gone. When he goes out of his way to get you things he knows you like. When he shows up to visit you at odd hours because something weird or cool happened and he has to tell you about it immediately.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

It takes a very specific scenario to make Dionysus jealous. He's very open with his relationships and believes that monogamy is really overrated so if you want to flirt with someone else, by all means! He'll even be your wingman! But jealousy? He'll really only get jealous if you're hanging out with Apollo over him. Like, hello??? That bitch is already the golden child, does he have to have you too??? Gets quite grumpy and pouty when he's jealous, but can be assuaged very easily with kisses and affirmative words. He may pretend to be mad for longer though. Just so he has an excuse to ask you to make it up to him, if you know what I mean. ;)

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

His kisses get sloppier the drunker he is. Dionysus is never one for chaste kisses so you can only imagine what he's like when he's absolutely wasted. Lots of tongue. Accidental teeth bumps. It sounds awful, but he does it with such passion and experience that it definitely makes up for it. Also I hope you like wine because you're constantly going to be tasting it on his mouth.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

I feel like Dionysus is good with kids. He just seems like that kind of guy. Chill. Patient. Granted, he'd probably let them try a sip of whatever he happens to be drinking so maybe keep him an eye on him, but other than that? You could definitely choose worse gods to watch your kids. As for his own kids? I actually cannot decide if Dionysus would be a crappy father or a great one. He really could go either way. On the one hand, I feel like he'd be great at supportive talks and hugs and cute family activities. On the other, I can't see him being all that consistently available. Sure, being a dad might be fun for a while, but sooner or later, he's gonna get antsy.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Let's be real, he doesn't actually need sleep, but unlike some of the other gods, he's crazy down for all of life's little pleasures, including naptime. So it's pretty hard to consistently spend mornings with Dionysus. He usually crashes just wherever he happens to be, so unless you're actually physically with him at the time, you won't be seeing him until like noon. He has no problem sleeping in a proper bed with you if you ask him, though. If he loves you, he'll make time to include the things you like in his life, and if that thing is sleepy snuggling, hey, he's down. Don't expect him to get up first though. My man loves his lazy mornings.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Ha, what do you think? He will, however, sometimes blow off his feasts just to have a chill night in with you. Couldn't say why but he seems like a stargazing guy to me. Also I feel like he'd LOVE it if you read to him. But do be prepared for him to interrupt every five seconds with commentary.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Dionysus is a very chatty guy. Talk to him once and you've probably received an exhaustive list of all the sexual partners he's had in the last week as well as anything interesting he's done or seen. Despite that, it takes a very specific scenario for Dio to get into the mushy stuff. I can really only imagine him talking about his personal problems in rare quiet moments or if you need an emotional pick-me-up and he has something you might be able to relate too. He's not one to hide his feelings, but he also doesn't want to bring down the vibes with his issues, you know?

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

You can count on one hand the number of times you've seen Dionysus genuinely mad. Sure, he gets irritated sometimes and lashes out a bit, but he really is a live and let live kind of guy, and the amount of times he gets really upset is quite low. The only thing that'll badly set him off is people hurting his friends or the ones he cares about. Pretty much everything else is a flare-up hot, cool-down quick situation, if he gets angry at all.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Attentive as fuck. Dionysus remembers pretty much everything you've ever told him, even if it didn't look like he was listening at the time. He loves you. Of course he's going to be paying attention to everything you say. Wouldn't mind being put on the spot about it either. Quizzing each other about how much you remember about each other would be a fun game for him. Can't remember? Gotta drink, man. Those are the rules.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

He loves every moment spent with you, but the one he loves the most, the one that he really loves but will never tell you out loud, is the one where you just sat with him. It's not often that Dio doesn't feel like partying, but he'd had a bad series of days and he just... didn't feel up to it. But you stayed. You didn't even do anything special. You just hung out with him. Dionysus isn't usually self-conscious, but everyone's got their insecurities and Dionysus sometimes worries that you only want to hang out with him because of his merriment side. It's good to know he can relax a little around you and let you in on his bad days, rare as they are.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Dionysus isn't exactly hovering over you with a steak knife, but he is quite protective over his friends. He's an absolute petty bitch and won't hesitate to mess with anyone who even looks at you strange. If you tried to protect him, he'd genuinely find it sweet even though he obviously physically can't get hurt. If you lied to protect him, he's one of the few Olympians that won't straight up kill you dead for it. I mean, he'd still rather you just told him if there was some problem but he thinks it's really precious that you were worried about him and his feelings.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He doesn't put a lot of effort into his gifts, but somehow they're still thoughtful. Then again, he doesn't really have to put in effort. He's a god. He can just get whatever the hell he wants at a moment's notice. Not to say he doesn't adore you or the time you spend together, Dionysus is just very spur of the moment. He will however, occasionally put together a big ado for you on your birthday or your anniversary or if you did something cool and he thinks you should celebrate. If you're not the partying type, that's okay too. He'll put a cute little dinner together and you can have a casual hang-out with just him. Will probably playfully tease you about how lucky you are to have his full attention. Tease him right back. He'll love you for it.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Well, the constant drinking for one. Does kind of come with the territory. He's also extremely gossipy and will talk about people behind their backs, including you. If he likes you, it's usually not negative but uh... all of Olympus knows about your sex life. Sorry. Another big flaw of his is that, similar to most of his family, he has trouble taking no for an answer. He wants to do what's best for you! He wants you to be happy! Unfortunately, he also thinks he knows better than you do what's good for you and it'll take more than a few times of this going badly for him to ease off a little.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

About average all things considered. He's not exactly checking himself out in the mirror every five minutes but he does like to look nice. Definitely wouldn't mind if you stroked his ego a bit by complimenting him on his appearance. Do be mindful that he will return the favor, and if you say anything vaguely negative about yourself? Well. Good luck. Hope you enjoy Dionysus going over every inch of your body and explaining how much he loves it for the rest of the day.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Would depend on both the intensity of the relationship and how it ended. Something he considered just a hook-up won't break his heart, but if you were close? Losing you would absolutely destroy poor Dionysus. He'll close himself off from the rest of the Olympians, as well as his followers, and just kind of mopes for a while. Once he's finished with that, he does come back, but he's not the same. He'll be a lot moodier and willing to give in to his darker impulses, for example smiting his followers if they disrespect him. You are not responsible for the way your partner behaves post-breakup, but uh, that doesn't really apply when you're dating a god. This is a lifetime commitment. Please don't break up with him. He's not as bad as some of the other Olympians but like. He's making people believe their loved ones are grapevines here. Even if you don't love him anymore, you kinda need to take one for the team, man.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Would secretly love it if you're not as much the drinking type as him. He'd never admit it (unless he was both really out of it and really close to you) but he does sometimes worry about what kind of stuff he gets up to when he's blackout drunk. He doesn't think he'd do anything too bad, but it's nice to have someone that can actually verify that he didn't. Maybe it’s his mortal side or maybe it's just who Dionysus is a person, but he tends to actually feel bad about the mistakes he's made and is somewhat anxious that he'll hurt someone when he's too under the influence to use his better judgment. You probably won't be able to stop him, but you can remind him what happened when he's feeling more himself and he can try to fix whatever it is he's done.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

An excessive love for violence would be a hard turn-off. A little bit is fine, but if you're running around killing people left and right, he's considerably less thrilled. Look, he'll even hook you up with Ares if you want, just keep the wanton murder away from him, 'kay? Kind of hard to have feasts when all your guests are afraid of the serial killer. Also I feel like he would not get on with people with a touch phobia because he'd take it as personal insult.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Being a god, Dio doesn't really need sleep but he still likes doing it. Doesn't snore, but probably does drool. Definitely wraps around you like an octopus in his sleep. And I hope you have good bladder control because Dionysus is the single deepest sleeper in the world. You are not getting this man off of you until he wakes up by himself.

[devout-khajiit]

As much as we should all be wary of fearmongering in spirit work spaces, it's also good to remember that not every spirit is kind.

It's fearmongering to act like there's ten million evil spirits all trying to hurt you specifically at all times.

But it's true to state that there are malefic entities out there that do want to do harm. It's just that most cases, it's not some super personal plot against you by all of the spirit worlds.

Yes, sometimes we piss off spirits and they want to hurt us in return. Yes, sometimes spirits have motives and plans for us that are unkind. Yes, sometimes we do just plainly get unlucky and interact with a less than kind spirit through no fault of our own. Yes, entities that will pretend to be other spirits do exist. Yes, entities that mean very, very serious harm do exist.

But by doing spirit work, you're not signing yourself up for a constant uphill battle against ten million tricksters, you're not putting a giant target on your back that makes every spirit in a ten mile radius want to kill you.

And the worst case scenarios are typically few and far between. Yes, I believe people when they say "A trickster pretended to be Apollo and tried to kill me in a car crash", but this isn't happening to every single person who puts a toe into spirit work.

To do spirit work is not the open invitation to suffering at the hands of spirits. As well, if the world was truly full of that many malefic spirits, they would not wait for you to start doing spirit work to hurt you. They'd just start as soon as they found you.

It's also good to remember that these spirits don't, in my experience, tend to be well liked by other, kinder spirits. My spirit guides loathed, still loathe, the spirits haunting me and did everything in their powers to help me deal with it, especially as these spirits often did pretend to be Them. So if you are dealing with these spirits, you're likely to have kinder spirits very willing to help handle the situation with/for you.

The world is not as scary, cruel, and evil as some spirit workers like to imply it is. And frankly, I think this stance is bad for many reasons, including that it scares away people from beginning spirit work themselves.

But, spirits are truly broad and vast in how they behave. There are still less than savory spirits out there. Just because there's less than some people claim doesn't mean there's zero total. The horror stories about hauntings and negative run-ins and everything like that exist because these less than savory spirits do exist. Just... not to the same degree as the fearmongering says.

Do what you need to feel and be safe. If you feel you need to/should always vet your spirit guides before talking to them, do so. And you should, honestly, have some kind of protection in place regardless of if you've had a personal run-in or not.

Just remember, not every spirit is kind, but not every spirit is cruel.