#poisons the well like nothing else

[mhalachai]

some of you may have seen a notice today from a tumblr-popular youtube show, saying they're putting all their content behind a subscriber paywall. This post isn't about them per say, only bouncing off what that has brought up into the following:

When is a digital subscription something i'm willing to pay for? Rubric edition

Disclaimer - my first news job was in the early aughts at a digital stock news company, so I've been keeping an eye on this subject for over 25 years.

So you want to access an entertainment or news service that has content behind a subscriber paywall. What steps should you go through, to figure out if it's something that you should pay for?

This post will go off the caveat that artists/authors/reporters (I'm not calling them content creators, that term is garbage) should be properly compensated for the works they produce, and the current business model in our late-stage capitalist society means we all have to deal with the worst possible way of engaging with art - the subscription-model paywall. It's a terrible garbage system but there we are.

Step Zero: Do you care enough about the content to consider paying for it?

It might not be important enough to you to want to pay for, and that's okay. On the other hand, you may want to continue watching/reading/listening, either because of the content itself or because you want to support its creation.

(I'm separating the above as they are two different reasons - personally, i'm in favour of paying an annual subscriber fee to my small local news room to keep them in producing the content because I think it's important they exist.)

Step 1: Can you literally afford it?

Everything costs more and salaries aren't rising. If the answer to the question is no, can you split the cost with someone? Is it something that can be accessed through your local library (in terms of audiobooks or magazine/newspapers)? Otherwise, moving to:

Step 2: Is the cost of the subscription in line with what you're willing to pay for the content?

I still subscribe to the newspaper i used to work for - I can read all the news and get all the quotes I'm interested in, and I know i'm supporting local news. I'm willing to pay money for that.

On the other hand, back last year when Disney Plus announced it was raising its prices, I decided that I wasn't interested in paying that amount for what I was getting, so I cancelled that one. Do I miss it? Yes, somedays. Would I go back to them if the cost went down? Honestly I don't know.

Step 3: Did the company/channel do something to lose your trust?

Sometimes, all the above have been met with the affirmative, but something about how the company is doing things sets your teeth on edge. Maybe it's how their business model is evolving, or how they treat their customers (Netflix and their password sharing crackdown was that tipping point for me - i no longer wanted to support a company that sees its customer base like that). Maybe it's how they decided to move to subscriber-only. Maybe it's their take on geopolitical or social issues. Whatever it might be, you get to make that call for you.

Summation: Don't feel pressed by FOMO to pay for something when you're not comfortable doing so.

Whatever the situation is, you get to decide where you spend your money. The corollary of that is that you may not get to see the new stuff created by companies/channels that you like, but honestly? That trade-off might be better for you in the long run (and I'm saying this with too many years of regret behind me) nothing poisons the enjoyment of art more than feeling like you were forced to pay/pay more for it than you were OK with.

The tl;dr: Take a step back and see if you're really comfortable with paying for all your electronic subscription fees for news or entertainment. Don't feel pressured into paying for something you don't really want to see, or what to support. Consider where you want your money to go.

It's hard economic times - do what you need to, and spend your money where you want to.

(And check into what your local library has on offer - they may have streaming services or digital content you weren't aware of - might be enough to tide you over for a while).

[babsaros]

they talk about testosterone gel like it’s the fentanyl of hrt

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

.

[jvlianbashir]

conspicuous lack of the HOUSE of usher in mike flanagan's "the fall of the house of usher"

[honorthysalad]

and now to reveal the true purpose of a pokemon au: giving all the characters pokemon so I can imagine cute little scenarios w/ them and their mons.

So for ‘Hikaru’ I’m feeling a Ninetales and Yanma. Ninetales was Hikaru’s; Yanma he caught in the summer. The stone for evolving Vulpix was a gift from his late father, and he had the Vulpix much earlier than was typical training age. Yoshiki can’t remember a time Hikaru didn’t have a Pokemon by his side. At the same time, Hikaru was never very good with Pokemon, so Ninetales remained the only member of his team.

Then Yoshiki has a Grimer, Teddiursa, and Murkrow. He got the Grimer as a kid while visiting Tokyo as they’re quite common in densely populated areas- less so in cleaner rural areas, making it’s an odd sight in Kubitachi. Teddiursa is a much more common pokemon, and while it is cute, its evolution is less so for how dangerous it is. Murkrow are generally despised as pests. Known pranksters, the ones on the mountains are blamed for a lot of missing people as they’re known to lead people astray. Yoshiki’s team choices are widely discussed and criticized.

Next few are less set in stone:

Asako: Azumarill, Flaafy

Yuuki: Ivysaur

Maki: Elekid, Magikarp (based on two in-universe baseball teams)

[orcelito]

I do always love dropping that "not even to poison ivy" when I talk about not having allergies. Majority of people are allergic to poison ivy (that's why it's itchy), but I'm not ❤️ and I in fact tested this by purposefully rubbing poison ivy on myself last year. So I know for sure ❤️

[apollo-zero-one]

Man I can't believe I had the chance to go to a performing arts school up through middle school and I fuckin quit after 6 months just because I got bullied. BRO YOUR HOMEWORK WAS POETRY!! YOU HAD TO PRACTICE DANCING TO COTTON EYE JOE AS YOUR BIG UNIT TEST. GYM CLASS HAD A CIRCUS UNIT!! YOU HAD A WHOLE DAILY CLASS ON IMPROV!!! YOU FOOL!! YOU ABSOLUTE IMBICILE!! YOU COULD HAVE BEEN A YOUTUBER!!! YOU COULD HAVE BEEN ONE OF THOSE TWEENAGERS GETTING LOADED BY MAKING SHITTY YOUTUBE SHORTS IN 2008-14!! But noooOoooOOOoo little miss Noellie (who WANTED TO GO!! who worked SO HARD and sent in an application essay and did an INTERVIEW to get in!!) couldn't handle disruptive classmates or little scuffles and petty grudges and general Attitude of the other students and cried to mommy to put her back in public school. I am EATING MY HAIR over what Could Have Been. I COULD BE SOMEONE'S ANNOYING YOUTUBER!! I could be a DISGRACED DISNEY CHANNEL STAR!! I could be an America's Got Talent winner! A mild to moderately successful comedian! I could be making short films!! But no no no precious thin skinned baby me heard a few new cus words and watched a teacher get heckled and begged to give up The Dream in favor of?? Quiet math tests?? I am such a fucking quitter I quit everything the second it gets too hard I always take the out as soon as it's offered what's my fucking damage.....

[horce-divorce]

So to be clear tumblr is the only social media i actually bother to use with any regularly, but sometimes you crave variety. For example sometimes going on reddit is a nice distraction, and my feed is all really interesting silly low-investment type posts that i can scroll thru and be entertained by without feeling like i have to engage. and other times it feels exactly like facebook. just suggested post after suggested post that makes me say "god you people are so fucking unbelievably stupid." posts seemingly hand picked to make me so enraged, the exact kind of shit I go online to AVOID.

currently it's recommending me a bunch of posts about "why does America have so much looting?" That have a bunch of responses like, "Because of the crime wave, no one prosecutes shoplifters, people have just noticed its so easy to get a group together on whatsapp, etc" and WHY? It thinks I would want or need these posts? Idfk??? I hang out in r/antiwork and like 3 other main subs about being homeless and random entertainment topics. I don't use reddit for politics or world events. I do NOT get my news from there.

Anyway there was also one recommended thread about "why do rural folk feel looked down upon by city folks?" And all the responses were, "yeah! It's them who are rude to the city people!" And when someone mentioned the lack of resources in rural areas, another person chimed in to say "well I lived in Detroit and now I live in a rural area and we have WAY more food and resources than Detroit does!" But the second anyone brings up, you know, the socioeconomic factors that influence that shit, everyone's like whining and crying bc their little brains can't handle ""bringing race into it."" someone had a different life experience than you?! Pft, sure, and then all the bystanders clapped! 🙄

idk it's like. the more time goes on, the wider economic gaps become, the more obvious it is how effectively people are brainwashed. It's not like the answers to these questions are hidden esoteric mysteries. It's not like people having different, individual experiences in life is new. Even my grandma understands that a) people aren't actually looting that much and b) even if they were, have you bought groceries in the past 3 years? if so, why are you even asking that question?? But you try to actually talk about how bad shits getting and these fuckers go into high gear defending The American Way Of Life and blaming individual choices. Ppl are drinking the Kool aid so hard and they think water is just supposed to fucking taste like that

[unproduciblesmackdown]

truly further [2 sides same coin] of billions tragic failing of either quant's writing that the effective Demand that taylor & rian must have a very special dynamic is all about going "well i'm epic & you're epic" at every stage, which is nothing, while winston and taylor can never have a dynamic b/c he's so Not Epic, despite that he's more similar to taylor in any ways that actually matter or could mean anything, while also if rian was ever peers with winston / had a reciprocal dynamic there, maybe we'd Have to have had more of an actual character from that role, but instead once again [no] b/c he's so Not Epic. billions writing getting an award for [okay. tmc trifecta] as the only option heading into s6 & giving us Nothing instead

[libartz]

Headcanon that dunmer have a resistance/immunity to spider and snake venom so they don’t naturally fear insects and reptiles like many of the other races

[iamthekarmapolice]

phantom liberty not hitting like the main game

[jnece-maharlika]

Amity parkers are feral and insane

-Gothamites.

Somehow, someway, Casper high finds their selves in Gotham.

It could be a field trip or a ghost shoved them in a portal, doesn't matter, they're in Gotham.

As they arrive in Gotham, the Casper teachers decide to turn this into something educational and hire a tour guide from Gotham Academy (or was it Gotham university? I forgot) GA agrees and also Sends some of their students to partner up with the amity parkers as a sort "buddy" and to hopefully teacher em the ways of surviving in Gotham.

To the gothamites, the amity parkers look like children who have never been exposed to crime in their life, never been mugged, never been been kidnapped.

But the truth is, compared to the BS amity is used to, Gothams issues are like kindergarten.

First thing the tour guide hears when she greets Casper high Mr lancer telling them to, "Please don't walk into danger, please don't try and provoke the joker, I know he's a bitch but still. If you find yourself in a tricky situation, do not hesitate to punch yourself to freedom, but ABSOLUTELY NO CRITICAL HITs these are NORMAL people they're not like us or the ghosts, they will not survive. Please do not give phantom problems, He's already failing in class he doesn't need more problems"

Its important to keep in mind that:

amity parkers and ghosts are buddies now.

The Ambient ectoplasm gave them a form of super strength, also making it so that they are able to touch ghost.

They join the ghost brawls everyone in a while and has some wins.

Most, if not all are liminal in a way.

Everyone knows that Danny is phantom but have signed an NDA that says they aren't allowed to tell anyone who isn't a native amity parker who he is.

Things is, The gothamites don't know about this and take it as if Mr lancer and the students are underestimating Gotham. So as a from of pettiness, all the Gotham students decided to bring their amity partner to the most dangerous places they can think of.

Niky has lead sam into a park that poison ivy frequents. Of course, poison ivy is there but instead of running away in fear like niky expected, Sam runs up to ivy, complements her and joins the path of eco terrorism.

Tucker and his partner Vic finds himself in the middle of a riddler attack, locked in a room with no way out, a countdown timer with 20 secs remaining and a riddle in a computer.

Vic is panicking as he tries to figure it out, he looked to tucker for help. Tucker just shrugged and hacked the computer, not even bothering to solve the riddle. It worked and Vic is baffled and the riddler is frustrated.

Danny find himself in the hands of the joker, (his partner ran the moment joker was seen) hanging upside down on top of a large pool of acid, because, it's classic for joker. He is also being live streamed.

The teachers in GA are panicking, the bats are panicking.

Casper high teacher took one look at the stream and shrugged. "Eh, he'll be fine." They also called the number that joker has displayed on the screen, just to say, "Daniel Fenton, make sure your back before in GA 6 pm or else were leaving you to find the hotel on your own."

The time is 5:30 pm.

It takes 25 minutes to walk from Joker to GA.

Danny sighs, might as well start walking.

He uses intangibility to free himself and fall into the vat of acid.

The Gothamites are shocked and screaming, the bats are shocked. Amity parkes went "oh" and continued placing bets on how fast Danny will get back.

Danny then proceeds to swim out of the acid pool, punch the joker in the face, knocking him out in a single hit and then proceeds to casually squeeze out the acid from his Casper high "I am a proud amitian" shirt as if it's regular water.

All of this was done in 5 minutes.

All of this was caught on stream.

The Gothamites are passed out, the bats are questioning everything. Batman is searching up everything he can about acid side effects and about Danny but ends up with nothing.

The amity parkers just raised their bets even further.

Danny somehow makes it back 10 minutes late and Wes wins the bet.

[gojosprettyprincess]

THAT GIRL IS...POISON!!!

Overstimulation, slight somno, Not proofread

A/n - hello! I know I haven’t been posting that much recently because I’m on a small tumblr break but I still decided to schedule this post so I hope everyone enjoys it!

˖ ⊹ ﾟ｡ ✧

Sweetheart—hahh fuck! Don’t you think you’re going too ngh-fast, Ohh fuckkk!” His moans escaped in a mixture of desperation and pleasure, his voice husky and filled with desire as he struggled to maintain his hold on your waist in an attempt to steady himself properly—Fuck, Satoru felt so lightheaded and dizzy, his thighs trembled as he weakly tried to recover from his pasting orgasms which was the…third one?? In a row.

It wasn’t really your intention for it to be this way. Dealing with difficult coworkers all day was challenging enough, but having to cover a shift last minute because of someone else's absence made things even tougher for you. So least to say when you finally came home from work you were sooo frustrated and had to let off some steam and you don’t know what, but something came over you seeing your pretty boyfriend, shirtless with his grey sweatpants hanging low by his hips, revealing a glimpse of his mouth-watering happy trail and v line in the kitchen cooking dinner for the two of you. It’s like it triggered something inside of your brain.

And that's how you found yourself on top of him on the living room couch, his snowy-white hair tickling his forehead, damped with sweat as he gazed up at you with half-lidden eyes in a mixture of exhaustion and desire. His sticky cum from the last three rounds marinating inside your cunt as you continued milking him for the forth, sure your thighs were quivering and aching but it’s nothing compared to the overwhelming amount of pleasure you got from fucking your boyfriend like this. Your feet gently rested on his toned thighs as you bounced up and down on his cock, trying to cum once again and get him as stimulated as possible.

His jaw fell slack and his eyes rolled back repeatedly in sheer ecstasy at the lewd sight of you fucking down at him like this—sure Satoru loved being in control and fucking you absolutely stupid as you drooled and cried into his expensive bed sheets while he pounds your sloppy little cunt from behind but there’s just something about seeing his feisty, persistent little girlfriend being so demanding and treating him like your personal toy to fuck yourself on made him lose his mind. He loved it so so much.

He enjoys being your dildo to cream on—even if he’s on the verge of literal tears right now from the overstimulation of you bouncing your ass on his twitching, overused cock. he didn’t even had the power to try and get you off from his oversensitive dick—all he could do is lie there and take it. You won’t lie, you carried a lot of pride in having the strongest a whimpering and moaning mess alll because of you.

“Babyyy, Goddd! you’re so fucking crazy” his voice cracked as he flashed a fucked out smile at you as you ran your fingertips along the defined ridges of his abs before trailing them upwards to his chest—feeling every bit of muscle from his body that you could possibly reach. “You look so shit!- fucking beautiful”.

“Yeahhh? Oh you look so pretty like this too toruuu” you cooed, his cock was filling you up so well, just the way you wanted. You raked your hand over his chest, groping it before you accidentally did something. Which made his cock jump inside of you, throbbing and pulsating—you felt it and it made you questioned, why you never thought about it before?

“Whatthefuck—Holy shitt nghh” he groaned out, a lump forming in his throat.

You pinched both of his nipples, twisting and toying with the hardened bud before he lets out a high-pitched whine, his ragged breaths quickening as he came, spilling whatever bit of cum was left inside his balls into your already stuffed and leaking pussy, the action catching you off guard, causing your back arched slightly, the overwhelming pleasure consumed you as your rhythm got sloppy. You quickly chased your high following him—his gooey cum coating your sensitive clit and dripping down all over his balls and sheets as his balls throbbed with his release, his seed getting fucked so deep inside you as you continued bouncing on him.

His pretty pathetic whimpers and moans were like music to your ears, you were actually starting to feel bad but you were soo desperate to cum, you had to—even if you already did it about four times. It felt so fucking good and seeing Satoru like this made you even hornier.

You moved your hand down to rub your clit, feeling the intense pleasure building up as three of your fingers carefully circled the sensitive bundle of nerves as Satoru weakly looked up at you, if it wasn’t for his bright ass blue eyes peaking out faintly, you wouldn’t have even noticed. He had no power or energy to do anything, it’s like your pussy snatched his soul from his body and he’s just laying there lifeless but with his cock still throbbing with need and joy.

“Mmm fuck baby, M’ gonna cum on your cock again, gonna make a creamy little mess on you toru” you moaned out, your head falling back as you squeezed a handful of your bouncing tits, he whines eagerly at your exclamations. The pit of your stomach flutters as you came undone on your boyfriend's cock once again, your juices leaking all around his shaft as your pussy squeezes around him like a vice, at this point, Satoru’s cheeks were so flushed and feverish.

Your body collapsed onto his with his cock still nested and marinating in your warm, cum-filled pussy as you brushed the stands of stray hairs that veiled his eyes before planting a sweet, gentle kiss on his forehead. There for no doubt that Satoru wasn’t asleep right now, you could just tell from his breathing patterns and it was sooo adorable to you.

Maybe you’ll give him some time to wake up before round five orrr was it six? starts again.

[evilminji]

Ooooh~ Drink mix up? >.>

Because! Wes DID, in fact, get that dream job. HAS learned... after many, many hours of "beat about the head and shoulders with an ethics pamphlet by his great aunt", to keep his mouth shut! Family curse of Sight? WHAT family curse?

He doesn't see shit! Mind your business.

What're you? A cop?

Look, he sent Fenton a gift basket. He was a shitty, shitty "I have to be RIGHT and nothing else matters!" Stubborn lil asshole of a kid. He got better. Grew up. No one is there best Self during puberty. He DOES, in fact, regret it.

Which is WHY, he is deliberately ignoring Kent's terrible, awful, paper-thin, "who meee~?" Aw shucks BULLSHIT excuse of a disguise, like it isn't blatantly obvious he's Superman. Yep. Nothing to see here! Nothing but us chickens! Mmmmm, morning coffee! Delicious.

But see, here's the THING.

The Itty, bitty, teeny lil PROBLEM...

Wes grew up in Amity "Totally Not Supernatural Hotspot For Centuries" Park. He is... to put it mildly, genetically? A freak. His biology is ALL fucked up. Everyone's is. And it WAS NOT made better by the Fenton's playing fast and loose with their hell basement. The Ectoplasmic NUKE that was that portal.

There is a REASON his morning coffee? Is COVERED. Contained. Fenton brand, LEAD LINED, specialty cups. The sort that can't be EATEN from the inside out. Eroded after a few uses. They're ugly as sin, but they work. He even ordered a few covers from Star's etsy shop. (Apparently he wasn't the only one who hated how ugly they looked. Good for her though, he heard it was doing well.)

He SAYS this? 'Cause his morning brew is less... straight COFFEE... and more... how to put this? A blend? Brew? Potion, really. Like an energy drink. From hell. Or, partially at least, the Zone. It's the combination of roots, seeds, and a few dried berries. Kinda like a tea, actually!

Tasty. Adds this nice fruity, warmth. A zing. Goes GREAT with the coffee. And it really perks you up... if you are Limnal. If you AREN'T? It'll desolve your esophagus like swallowing straight acid. And that's not TOUCHING the... witch-y, more Seer specific bit of the blend.

That stuff is medicinal. You know, "calm the mind" and "mental clarity". That sorta thing. With a good ol helping of "don't blurt out everyone's secrets, you spacey bitch! For the love of God, those are our INSIDE THOUGHTS!". Which? Really helpful! Infinitely less likely to get decked. It's a family staple.

Poisonous, though.

They're fine cause they've basically developed an immunity to that part, but like? Wouldn't recommend. It's why he NEVER shares his drinks. Food? On occasion. If he PLANS it and knows not to add and interesting spices. But DRINKS? Never. Weston family brews are basically NEVER safe.

Which? Begs the Very Important Question ™!

Who's Coffee Is This?

Cause it SURE AS FUCK AINT HIS!

You never realize quite how fast you can go from "completely calm and kinda sleepy" to "bomb strapped to my chest, primal panic AWAKE" until it happens to you. His coffee was ON HIS DESK. People have passed by. He talked to them. Cups put down and picked up. Lazy early morning. He doesn't even register, really, as his chair crashes to the ground.

He's shouting.

People confused. They don't realize yet. His head whips around, looking for that distinct cover. Before it's too late. Before someone takes that fatal sip. He spots it. Bolting from his desk. Crashing through coworkers, over desks. Chaos and outrage. "It's 'just' coffee!" They cry.

Kent turns, confused. Pretending. Raises his (HIS! Oh god!) cup to his lips, unknowing. Wes SCREAMS a warning. But he doesn't listen. "It's 'just' coffee" They never listen. Curse of Cassandra. God's damn it. This is why his family fucking CONVERTED!

He TACKLES the man of steel.

RIPS his cup away from him, knows his eyes are frantic. How much have you had?! Spit it out! Wes voice ECHOES in the sudden silence. I'm a META, Kent! It could KILL YOU!

And oh, Oh NOW they get it. Or perhaps it is the burn in his mouth that finally registers. He rolls, spits oil slick nebulae that eat away the floor. There is blood mixed within it. It took mere moments. Superman stares, transfixed and horrified, as Wes shakes. He... he should probably get off of him.

He'll move in a moment.

When his legs no longer feel weak from terror.

The news room is in chaos. Lane kneeling by her husband, Perry trying to do damage control. He... he's probably gonna lose his job, isn't he? Wes wants to cry. Protection laws only go so far, after all. And warning his boss about his dietary needs means jack shit, after an incident like this. Beloved as Kent is. Not that anyone likely believed him.

They never do.

And now he's nearly killed Superman.

@hypewinter @hdgnj @legitimatesatanspawn @nerdpoe @lolottes @babbling-babull @mutable-manifestation @dcxdpdabbles

[fairsweetlonging]

time travel au where liu qingge and shen qingqiu (yuan) end up accidentally traveling a decade back in time before luo binghe was amitted to qing jing peak and before shen qingqiu had his qi deviation, but after their generation has risen to peak lords.

which means, shen yuan realizes quickly, as they're accosted by said peak lords, that he will have to face shen jiu.

as they're being cleared for demonic energy and the likes, mu qingfang of course instantly detects the poison without a cure eating away at shen yuan's meridians. liu qingge pulls a copy of the treatment plan out of his sleeve (shen yuan blushes a bit, did liu qingge always keep that on hand?), and just like in the current timeline, they agree to keep it under wraps.

shen jiu tries various times to get a moment alone with shen yuan, but he never quite manages because liu qingge is there, who is also... nice?? to him?? for some reason?? shen jiu gets a bit flustered at the solemn politeness and skitters off.

it comes out pretty quickly that shen yuan has "memory loss", and thus can't remember anything that's currently taking place in this time. shen yuan expects scorn, hatred and disdain from shen jiu, expects to be grabbed and interrogated, to arouse suspicion.

but shen jiu looks....... sad???

being transported here threw shen yuan's qi off-balance (even liu qingge had to sit down, which means it's bad), and his cultivation is already so unstable, so when the peak lords are all squabbling and arguing and threatening and raising their voice, he can feel his body shut down. he sees yue qingyuan start to move towards him, which, knowing the future yue qingyuan, he really isn't up for right now—but before the sect leader can get to him someone else is at his back, transferring him qi, holding him up gently by his shoulders, then coaxing him up, leading him outside

shen yuan's been fed qi by every peak lord at least once. he doesn't recognize this one. that means it can only be one person.

he looks up. it's shen jiu.

and it's bizarre, getting fussed over by the scum villain, having gentle hands run along his back, his hair, that clear, soothing voice calming him down. and somehow shen jiu knows exactly what to do?? somehow it works perfectly on him?? it's almost as if shen jiu has known him his whole—

oh.

bodies, like homes, hold memories, even if the original occupants are no longer there. it's the milestone marks on the doorpost that chart a child's growth, blurry photographs faded by time, scuffed floors from well-walked paths, and tiny holes in the walls where pictures once hung.

shen jiu takes him to the bamboo house, pours him tea, and asks, calmly, what he remembers from their childhood.

it's not his childhood, so shen yuan doesn't actually remember anything, but the body he's in does. the memories it holds are emotional rather than visual; he remembers being alone, scared, and hungry. he remembers anger, pain. a dark room. loud voices. he remembers his heart skipping a beat when heavy boots stomp his way. the sound of a whip.

he doesn't have to lie. the memories aren't his own, and they're from long ago, which means shen jiu has them too. and, he supposes, this is his only chance to find out what really happened.

but shen jiu doesn't say anything about it. he just nods and stares, intensely. then he asks shen yuan if he remembers yue qingyuan. shen yuan says no, he doesn't. the conversation takes a very strange turn after that. shen yuan can't help but feel a little queasy when shen jiu asks him if yue qingyuan has taken advantage of his memory loss.

"has he come into your home? has he brought you gifts, sweets? does he invite you for tea? did you accept?"

he has. shen yuan doesn't know why that would be a problem, the sect leader has been nothing but kind and helpful and patient. and generous, too.

when he says yes shen jiu looks furious.

liu qingge (his one) comes to pick him up, and his time with shen jiu is cut short. somewhere he's glad, cuddling into liu qingge's back as he holds him while they fly. he feels a little bad for yue qingyuan, knowing he's probably caused a big fight, but it doesn't sit right with him. he wishes he knew what happened.

.

liu qingge, meanwhile, is having the time of his life fighting himself. it's good practice!

[logaenhowlett]

NO END TO THIS ROAD - L.H.

Summary: Desperate and on edge after escaping from Alkali Lake, Logan seeks shelter in your barn, fighting to repress his primal urges. [Set during X-Men Origins: Wolverine]

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut 18+ only, Angst, Feral Logan

A/N: I love all versions of this man equally, but Origins!Logan just triggers something special within me. Also, it’s my first time writing smut, please be nice!

MASTERLIST

Crimson seeps out between his knuckles. The once-untarnished skin now pried open by silver metal. For a brief second, he catches his reflection on the claws and fear tears through his body. He's unsure how his legs had been carrying him all this while, pain ripping into his flesh with each stride. His muscles seethe in agony, aching to bear the pressure of his newly-dense skeleton.

He's never been a stranger to suffering or trauma. There were several times in his endless, Herculean life where his own fists struck down countless others, ones that deserved his wrath. But this, he would never wish upon anyone.

The neurons in his brain seem to be on fire, every tendril underneath his skin shooting a flood of sensations through his veins. In this moment, he's no longer Logan. Instead, a man surviving on pure instincts.

Despite the warmth of sunlight caressing him, every breath leaves him trembling as he's exposed to nature's unwavering forces. Across the miles and miles he'd sprinted, there was nothing but mountains of lush forest overlooking glades. He had no destination in particular. Just somewhere far, far away from the horrors of what he'd endured.

His lungs feel like deadweight, crumbling within as he pushes his body to extremes never been explored. The thudding beat of his heart doesn't slow him down either, inching ever so close to a state he'd probably never recover from.

He prays for the first time in a century. An unspoken plea to whoever was unfortunate enough to witness such dread. He doesn't even register it at first - everything being a blur for so long. Soon enough, he locates a barn in the distance.

The thought of being discreet doesn't cross his mind when he slams the wooden door behind him. He staggers onto a pile of sacks, calves burning in relief as his chest heaves. There's no chance for him to process the events that occurred earlier, the whole world closing in on him. God, he just wants it all to stop.

“Fuck! What the hell are you doing?”

Lost in all that noise inside his head, he doesn't notice you creep into the barn, inspecting the sudden commotion. Light-headed is what he feels, vision clouding, meeting your fearful stance. The sledgehammer you're tightly clutching would've painted a threatening image to anyone else, yet it's the last thing on his mind.

“It’s cold.” He stammers out, resting his hands on the ground to find some semblance of reality.

“You’re naked.”

He grumbles in response, spitting out something close to a yes. The energy in the air shifts a little, and past your barrier of adrenaline and unease, he catches an inkling of arousal fighting to peek through. All his senses drift to one idea. He curses under his breath.

“Are you on drugs?” The tone of your voice strays from alarm to one of well-earned skepticism.

“No,” He groans, shutting his eyes as his body reacts to your subconscious desire, “I’m sorry... I just had to find a place.”

At that moment, he doesn't know if it's a good thing you're warming up to his being here. Though, he appreciates you lowering the sledgehammer, wincing at the thought of his bones ringing at any contact with the tool.

“Looks like you had a shitty night.”

“Something like that."

All the blood within him rushes down. He drowns the urge to unsheathe the claws, diverting his instincts to focus on anything but your sweet, sweet pheromones tainting the air around him. And as if it's deathly poison, he stops breathing, unwilling to let such a venom infect his very being. Fuck, he wants to taste your cunt so bad.

A rag hits him in the chest and he's thankful for the short-lived interruption. He immediately drapes it over his throbbing cock, his posture only doing so much to help all this time.

“I made dinner and - " He finds your eyes as they study him, "You look like you could use a shower.”

When you lead him to the cabin, he tries to maintain a respectable distance, trailing behind as if the ground beneath is a minefield yearning to explode. At least, the confines of the bathroom provide some solace - far from your radiating presence that teases him in all the right ways. Jesus, get a fucking grip.

Scalding hot water hits his body, easing his tightly-wound muscles. As he lathers himself, he's reminded of a faint whiff of the very same body wash he noted on you, now soaking into his own skin. His scent entangles with yours. And he makes the mistake of entertaining that thought. Steadying himself, he releases a shuddering breath, the hairs on his arms mimicking the movement of his cock. After a while, he's not sure if it's the steam or the result of his actions that fog up the room.

Fastening the buttons of the flannel you'd generously given him, he stares at himself in the mirror. The remnants of your touch linger on the soft fabric and he wants to smash his face against the wall when his dick impulsively twitches. Instead, the claws fly out, slicing the porcelain sink in half. He mumbles a string of curses, jerking his head to snap out of whatever hold you seem to have on him.

He enters the kitchen warily, clutching the remainder of the sink and what would normally require the combined strength of his pinkie feels like a meteor between his hands. He thinks of Atlas, condemned to carry the sheer burden of heaven on his bare shoulders. The energy around you once again gleams at his entrance, your attraction to him not a secret. Yet, he refuses to desecrate an innocent soul with whatever ferocity he's got boiling within.

“I swear I’m gonna pay for this.” He grumbles out, placing it on the countertop.

Your expression contorts to one of confusion and speechlessness as he takes a seat at the table. Despite unsuccessfully quelling the thirst within him, the sign of delicious food overtakes his needs.

“Thank you for everything.” A genuine manifestation of gratitude spills out of him. The polite smile you return doing a funny thing to his heart.

“Well, I’m glad you weren’t a coyote or something.”

The conversation lulls into short, simple exchanges, delving into nothing below surface-level. Rather than following the rational part of his brain, he insists on washing the dishes, having to brave the dangers of being in close proximity to you. Only shallow exhales and the racing beat of your heart reach his ears as he ponders the pros and cons of the ability to read minds.

He glances at the dusty frames loosely hanging near the kitchen shelves, “That your family?”

“Yeah… This was my grandparents’ cabin. I’ve been here since they -” As you trail off, grabbing the clean plate, his fingertips brush against yours.

He clears his throat, “And the chopper in the barn?”

“Grandpa’s - He used to take me along for rides when I was young. It was our favourite thing to do together… Nothing ever came close to that feeling.”

“I know what you mean.”

He clenches his jaw, the tension in the room obvious to anyone with eyes. Honing onto the growing pool of heat barrelling down to your core, he swallows harshly. He can't seem to tear his eyes off you, hands quivering at a frequency that should surely shatter the glass he's holding onto for dear life.

When the last of the dishes are put away, you sheepishly guide him to the couch. His gaze drops to your ass, shamelessly peering as you retreat to your bedroom and return moments later with a heap of blankets, muttering about how he must be sensitive to the cold.

Moonlight weaves through the swaying curtains, it glistens against the stainless steel of his dog tags, drawing your attention to his only belonging. The space between you disappears, your fingers gently reaching for the chain.

“Are you in the army?”

Now that you're this close, every little sensation is amplified in his perspective. He calms himself, begging whatever deity that's responsible for his decaying resolve. It works in his favour until he clocks the wetness of your pussy. Dripping pretty all just for him.

“No.” He says, imperceptibly quiet. The tempting mix of hunger and desire in your eyes pushes him closer to the brink, the rapid beat of your heart mirrors his own and it only rouses the flame scorching the walls within him.

He growls, lips smashing against yours in a possessive, ravenous kiss. Breath hot on your skin, grabbing your hips and pressing his body firmly to yours. It's your whimpers, your honeyed admissions of pleasure that send a burning need through him. As you tilt your neck, offering him more access, his teeth sink into the supple flesh that holds your life, nipping and sucking to a rhythm he carelessly demands. Your fingers curl around the loops of his jeans, tugging him even closer. He grunts, hands roaming all over your body.

Biting your lower lip, he draws his head back lightly. "Feel what you do to me, pretty girl," He murmurs, thrusting his hips to press his obvious bulge against you.

A low moan escapes you, your nails digging into his shoulders to release some of the rising pressure, an anchor to this untamed craving simmering inside. His eyes darken at the sound, jolts of pure, uninterrupted rapture travelling straight to his core.

He lifts you effortlessly, hands squeezing your fleshy thighs when your legs wrap around his waist. The promise of you bending so easily to his will sets off a wildfire underneath his skin. Without breaking any contact with your lips, he strides to the bedroom, roughly shoving your body onto the mattress. He drinks in the sight of you, splayed out all needy in front of him, and it drives him to near madness. The flannel and jeans are ripped off his aching body in fluid motions, leaving him in all his glory - one step towards finally satiating these sinful urges.

He lowers himself down, arms caging you beneath him. It's torturous - excruciating even - when the weight of his body crushing yours ignites a fiery heat within you, tingling his limits. While you nip his jaw, he lets out a deep, appreciative growl, toes curling in anticipation as if every fragment of the adamantium infused to his bones has been electrified by your touch.

Pupils blown wide with lust, he curses, breathing ragged against your skin. His hand rakes up your shirt and gently kneads your breast, his thumb teasing your nipple. Your body immediately reacts to the sensation, arching towards him with an intensity that nearly sends him over the edge. "So fuckin' needy for me, princess?"

His teeth graze your damp flesh, lips trailing a path down your body. He thinks he's finally defeated death when your fingers grasp his hair, drawing him on a ride to ecstasy he never wants to escape. The shiver, the burning wave of passion coursing through your veins make his claws twitch within, desperate to emerge.

A feral grin flashes on his face as you whine, growing more restless the longer he takes. His hands dig mercilessly into your hips, the faint markings of bruises colouring your skin. He rumbles a muffled noise, lips tenderly pressing against your inner thigh, dangerously close to your slick entrance. It triggers something animalistic he's been trying so hard to overpower. In one quick motion, he rips your panties with his teeth.

"Look at you... Already a fuckin' mess and I haven't even fucked you." He rasps, positioning himself, the tip of his cock barely brushing against your soaking cunt.

In any other situation, he would've taken his time worshipping your body, preparing you to take him with a delicacy you would never associate with a man like him. Right now, his thoughts are filthy and downright profane. And not a single shred of his being cares about how painful this might be for you.

His hips ram forward, filling your warm insides with his length. A growl rolls through him, the sound dripping with pleasure as your walls tighten around his dick. His mouth finds your nipple, dragging his tongue impatiently over the soft skin before he begins to suck. Every thrust elicits gasps from you, moans that spur him on even more. "Fuck, sweet girl, can smell how badly you want me."

His cock grinds against the golden spot inside you, your head digging into the mattress with each push. He senses your longing to chase those highs, to control the movement of your bodies. A devilish snarl leaves him at that realisation, "I'm in charge here, princess. Wanted to ruin that pretty pussy since I saw you." He spits out, fingers pressing against your chin, forcing you to make eye contact.

As the climax approaches for both of you, he throws one of your legs over his shoulder, angling his body to thrust into you even further. He wonders whether you're the one with claws when your scratches tear into his back as you release that sugary ambrosia he'd grown an appetite for. Moves becoming sloppy, the unbearable threat of his cum spilling out sends his mind reeling. He shifts to pull out when your hand darts forward, stilling him.

"Inside, please."

The whispered plea makes his body strain with thrill. His load drips out your cunt, soaking the already-sullied sheets. Neither of you seem to mind the mess as he falls onto his back, out of breath and soothed to a state of newfound bliss.

As you rest softly against his chest, he allows himself the privilege to revel in your comforting presence. All the energy and adrenaline he'd built up comes crashing down. And he doesn't have the power to fight against his instincts, the ones that were screaming at him to run away. Soon enough, he succumbs to the enchanting spell of slumber.

He wakes up abruptly a couple hours later, momentarily startled by the warmth radiating from your body on his. The moonlight seems to fondly embrace your features, echoing his own expression. The feeling of guilt begins to rise within. He knows he has to leave, for your own sake, because those monsters will find him sooner or later. And he doesn't know what terrors he might commit if your blood is on his hands. He slips out of your grasp, refusing to glance at your relaxed form, feet transforming into cinder blocks as he walks towards the door.

“Where’re you going?”

His breath hitches, head ducking into his chest. “Listen... I can't thank you enough, but -" And despite every part of him indicating otherwise, he turns around. "You don’t want me here. It’s not safe for you... Trust me.”

Your sympathetic gaze almost shatters his resolve, he clenches his fist as your soft whisper reaches his ears, "Will you stay a little longer?"

Seconds later, he finds himself back in your arms, unable to deny the influence you have over him. He caves into your wish, savouring every last taste of the tenderness you carry just for him. By the time you stir awake, sunshine blinding your sight, the side of the bed he'd occupied is cold beneath your fingertips.