#same charles and also I'd die for you

[shaylogic]

Found another comic parallel! These are from Jill Thompson's "Dead Boy Detectives" manga

[joelsgoldrush]

“crawl home to her” | 7.5k

old man!logan x f!reader

SUMMARY: Will he be able to control himself once he's near you? In this moment, he feels more animal than human. Creeping, on the verge of crawling, back to you. OR Like a sinner seeking absolution, he finds his way back to you after every absence, as if you're the only salvation he's ever known.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni smut 18+ cursing. drinking. dirty talk. some fluff. comfort. feelings. self-deprecation. miscommunication. sort of established relationship. age gap (reader's in her late 20s). petnames. religious imagery. logan's POV. chauffeur!logan. dom!logan. reader wears logan's dog tags and clothes. pussy pronouns. phone sex. oral sex (f and m receiving). 69. fingering. masturbation (he jerks off in the limo). one (1) single spank. sort of rough sex. unprotected p in v. creampie.

A/N: i wrote this as a part 2 of this story, but still, it can be read as a standalone (i'd recommend that you also read the first part as well 👀 you'll understand their relationship better). hope you like this one! <3

Logan is tired. Bone-deep, soul-crushingly tired.

He takes a slow, deliberate drag from his cigar, letting the smoke curl inside his chest, teasing his lungs. Doesn’t even bother to crack the window open—why would he?—before exhaling, the haze lingering inside the limo like a fog.

One quick glance at his phone screen just to make sure his vision isn’t screwing him over—no older notifications. A pang of disillusionment settles in his being.

Not only is he fighting to keep his eyes open, exhausted from driving the same family around for the past few days while they enjoy their quality time, but he’s also bored out of his mind. 

Where the hell are you?

He adjusts his glasses, pushing them higher up on the bridge of his nose, preventing them from sliding down to his lap. When his phone buzzes, he jolts, nearly hitting his head on the roof of the limo due to his excitement.

His poor heart gallops as he fumbles with the screen, unlocking it with the same urgency as a man starved for contact.

But it’s not you. It’s one of his passengers.

We’re getting out in half an hour, the message reads. By we, she means herself, her husband, and their two kids.

Logan can’t bring himself to type an actual reply, so he leaves her on read. She knows he’s not going anywhere, parked outside the arcade as if he’s rooted in place with no way out.

Family after family enters that hell on earth, kids of all ages bouncing on their heels, voices shrill with enthusiasm. He watches, half-heartedly, as parents get dragged by their little ones, who negotiate how much money they are allowed to spend tonight.

He almost feels bad for those parents. Almost. He hopes that at least they know how to say ‘No’.

All in all, he’s got another thirty minutes of solitude ahead. The radio has long since ceased to entertain him. He’s been parked here for two hours, and his mind is starting to drift. He could stretch his legs, walk around, or maybe grab a drink—but damn it.

He wants to talk to you.

You’d said he could call you after dropping the family off. That was three hours ago. The last message he received from you was still stuck in his head, replaying over and over like a lifeline. Logan knows you must be busy, probably taking care of Charles and—

Okay, he’ll get back to that later. 

You: Just got out of the shower. Call me in five?

Right now, he could die a happy man. Were he a dog, his tail would be wagging furiously, anticipation already building for the simple joy of hearing you.

Logan: Got it.

The next five minutes feel like an eternity. He finishes his cigar, flicking the stub beneath the seat without giving it a second thought. For now, he doesn’t care about being a messy fucker. He’ll deal with the mess some other time.

Priorities.

A quick spritz of some cheap air freshener he picked up from a gas station fills the car, masking the distinctive scent of smoke. God forbid the kids start whining about how ‘weird’ it smells in the limo.

With a grimace, he sprays a little more—floral, of all scents? It feels insulting.

How kind of him to still be this considerate.

His thumb hovers over your contact, and he presses the call button with an agility he hasn’t had in years (thanks to you).

One, two, three rings, and then—

“Logan,” you say softly, your voice a little breathless, like you’ve been hurrying all over the place.

He stops grinding his jaw, the tension in his shoulders easing. He unclenches his fists, fingers uncurling one by one, as if letting go of some invisible burden.

Outside the vehicle, people stop dying, babies stop being born, and the world itself pauses just for him to listen to you.

You can’t see him, but he smiles either way. “Hey, baby.”

“Gosh, I’m so sorry. I lost track of time talking to Charles. We had dinner, and then I just—I felt so gross, you know? From cooking and all that. Took a shower, and it got pretty late.”

You end with a sigh, and he imagines you rubbing a hand over your face. “Please tell me you weren’t sleeping when I texted you.”

“Not even close. Still waiting for them.”

“They’re really taking their time, huh?”

“You wouldn’t believe it,” he murmurs, his fingers drumming a soft rhythm on the steering wheel. “How was your day?”

“Great! I’m already in bed.”

“My bed.”

You laugh, that sweet sound making his heart stutter. “Well, yeah. Where else do you want me to sleep if I’m at your place? On the floor?”

If someone had told Logan a year ago that he’d let someone live in his space, let alone take care of Charles, he’d have scoffed. "Pathetic," he’d have said, rolling his eyes with that familiar growl in his throat. Pretty sure he’d also puffed his chest while saying so.

Because Logan Howlett wasn’t one for accepting help. He’s been on his own since the earth was still cooling down.

But for you? He made exceptions. Plenty of them. And if it weren’t for your altruism, he wouldn’t have accepted this job—a job that pays well enough to cover Charles’ meds and put food on the table. He needs this rich family’s money.

“You’ve got a girlfriend now?” Charles had asked, when Logan explained he’d be staying with you while he went away for a few days.

“Big word you’re using there,” Logan had replied, placing two pills into Charles’ palm. The old man gave him a death stare. “Don’t play dumb. It’s not like you don’t know the drill.”

Mumbling something incoherent before swallowing the pills, Charles had taken slow sips of water between each one, sinking back into the mattress with a weary sigh. “If she’s not your girlfriend, then what is she?”

“A friend.”

“That’s nice. Is that what they’re calling it now?”

He shakes that memory away, forcing his mind back to the call. “Try not to be so kind to him. What if he falls in love with you?” he inquires, a mocking tone weaving through his words. 

And that’s when you drop the bombshell. “You mean like you did?” 

You laugh, but Logan… doesn’t. He can’t do it. He makes sure he’s breathing on command: in and out, in and out, in and out. 

The mention of love unsettles him. He doesn’t feel safe anymore, doesn’t know what game you’re playing. Where’s the rulebook?

Is he—could he be—falling in love with you? Is that what you’re implying? And if so, do you feel the same?

In the long run, you mumble: “It was a joke.” Only then do his lungs fill with fresh air, untainted by the weight of his unease. But he can’t let it pass, the fact you sound disappointed. Defeated.

He promised himself he’d never hurt you. Though he doesn’t intend to, it feels as if he’s just stabbed you in the back, twisting the knife further into your frame—unwillingly.

“Remember the—” he pauses a moment, throwing his head back in frustration, silently cursing himself. “The pills. You’ve been giving them to him, right?”

“Yes, Logan.”

“Please, remember it’s only—”

“Logan,” you try again, cutting through the wave of his spiraling thoughts. He can picture you behind closed lids, looking at him through your lashes, your hand resting gently on his chest. “I have it under control, okay? He’s doing alright. I swear I’m taking good care of him.”

“I don’t doubt that, honey.” Casting a glance at the rearview mirror, he feels an unexpected sense of longing for your presence there, like a ghost haunting his every move, confined to the limits of his brain. “Can’t help but worry. That’s all.”

A soft hum reverberates through the line. He hears the rustle of sheets, the sound of you tossing around in his bed, and his pulse quickens at the thought.

“You said you’re sleepin’ on my bed.”

“Good memory you have.”

“You wearin’ my clothes as well?”

 Thick silence, the kind he relishes.

“Yeah,” you finally reply, shifting the phone from side to side. You take a deep breath, and add: “I forgot to bring mine.”

He hates how you easily find a way to get him riled up despite being miles away. It must be the power of words.

“I don’t believe you.” He knows he shouldn’t, hates himself for doing it, but one of his hands palms the half-hard bulge in his black slacks, suppressing a low groan. “Think you did it on purpose.”

A rush of heat, sharp and urgent, washes over him. Is he really about to do this? Get himself off in the very car he uses for work? Twisted, incredibly sick of him, he thinks.

Still, he craves more. “Tell me what you’re wearing.”

You laugh at his demanding tone, fanning the flames of his desperation. “When did you turn into a horny teenager?”

“Always been, baby,” Logan purrs, undoing the button of his pants, followed by the fly. His eyes flick upwards for just a moment—no cars, no one in sight. He’s presumably alone. It’s all the confirmation he needs to say: “C’mon. Tell your old man what clothes you stole from him.”

He’s never done this before—phone sex. He’s heard about it, sure, but never imagined he’d fall so hard for the idea. The thrill of it sinks into him, electrifying.

What are you doing? Is your lip caught between your teeth? Do your eyes wander down your own body? Maybe your fingers are already skimming over your skin.

“It’s just a random shirt,” you murmur. “Plain, white.”

“What else?”

“There’s nothing else.”

Logan’s breath hitches as his hand moves to his cock, spotting the damp patch on his briefs where the tip has already started to leak. The moment he slides the elastic down past his balls, he fists his shaft in a slow stroke, going from the base to the head. “No panties? And you expect me t’believe this wasn’t planned?”

Your muffled whimper is like molten lava spilling into his ear, bringing him to full hardness. More shuffling follows on your end, driving him wild with the anticipation. “Why do you do this to me if you’re not here?”

“‘Cause I want you touchin’ yourself just like I’m doin’.” He thumbs the head, hips jerking involuntarily at the sensation. He aches to feel your mouth there instead. “Bet that pussy’s been cryin’ out for me, huh? Must’ve got used to me fillin’ her every other night.”

Your breathing grows more uneven, small gasps filtering through the speaker. “I need you here with me. This is—ugh—not enough.”

“What’s not enough, sweetheart?”

There’s a pause as the sound of your phone shifts again, and then he hears it clearly—the wet, needy sound of your fingers working between your legs, filling the silence with the loud squelching of your cunt. “My fingers,” you blurt out, more distant than before, like you’re merging with the bed, dissolving with every touch.

Logan spits roughly into his palm, the slickness of his saliva easing the drag of his calloused hand along his length, good enough to make the movement more satisfying.

He moans aloud, eyes shut tight, your name slipping from his lips, a whispered prayer, as if saying it could somehow summon you to his side. “I spoil you too much,” he rasps, wedging his phone between his ear and shoulder, using every resource available to him, anything to feel something real. “Seems like you’ve forgotten how to make yourself come.”

Your moans follow his, the breathy sounds a clear sign of how close you are, hanging on the edge, your release just a heartbeat away. But it’s not enough, and you need him. He wonders if you can feel his thoughts from miles away, because— “Want your cock so bad, Lo. I m-miss you.”

He has to stop jerking himself to hold off his orgasm, stomping his foot against the pedals. “Fuck, darlin’. You keep sayin’ those things and I swear I’ll be back with you by morning.”

His sole focus now is you—getting you to come. Driven by his growing frenzy, it’s the only coherent thought that claws through the haze in his mind. “Keep talking, please,” you plead, fingers still lost in the heat of your body. “Tell me what you’ll do to me when you see me.”

Logan picks up the rhythm again, his movements faltering as his chest heaves, ragged breaths spilling out while his hand works faster. “Gonna fuck you slow and deep, just how you like it. Face to face, so you can kiss me as much as you want, ‘cause I know my girl loves that, am I right?”

My girl. He’ll regret that one the second the high fades and clarity sets in.

Word after word falls from his lips without thought, uncontrollable, as though he’s surrendered to the storm of desire raging in his being—a storm in which your name is the eye of it all.

You are everywhere, and you take up all the empty spaces he thought were impossible to fill, sinking into the depths of his unconsciousness.

Not a single part of him is left untouched by you, by the power of your presence in his life, consuming him in ways he never imagined.

Your airy mewls ripple through the line, feeding his ravenousness, adding to the tightening knot of pleasure coiling low in his abdomen. His muscles strain, thighs tensing. Each stroke of his hand prolongs this sweet torture. 

“Come for me, princess. You’d make me so h-happy if you came right now.”

And you do, because it’s not just his touch anymore—it’s his voice, and the way he commands you without force. How you’ve become accustomed to him, nodding along to each instruction he mutters.

Beneath your fingers, your swollen clit pulses, and though he can’t see it, he imagines it perfectly, having spent enough time worshiping it.

He knows, even from a distance, what your body must be doing. Your back arching off the bed, thighs quivering and clenching tight around your own hand. Those perfect legs of yours trembling as you reach your so-desired climax.

Loud and unrestrained, you moan, and for a moment, he wants to be with you so badly that he ponders if the theory of traveling across time and space sounds that far-fetched after all.

Logan doesn't need much after that for the thread to snap at long last, his groans dying on his lips as he stares in awe at the spurts of his seed landing wherever his eyes fall: a bit on the top of his pants, on his hand, his briefs. His cock twitches in his grip as he continues stroking himself through the aftershocks, gulping when it becomes too much to handle.

So phone sex is off the list now. Great.

“Miss you, too,” he mumbles once he’s caught his breath, tossing his glasses onto the passenger seat. His forehead feels damp to the touch, and he contemplates when was the last time he came this hard.

The elephant in the room hasn’t been addressed yet. He knows you expect him to say more, something deeper and rawer, but that’s all he can force himself to spit out.

Sometimes, he forgets that you can’t read him all the time. Although you know him better than anyone else, there are certain thoughts and memories locked tightly inside him, things you'd never discover on your own. Secrets he admits he should share with you, but he’s at a loss for how. Words aren’t doable when he needs them the most.

Maybe it's a matter of age—you’re a natural at voicing your feelings.

At some point, you ask: “When did you say you were returning?”

One thing’s clear: he can’t afford to lose you. He’d be an idiot if he let that happen.

“In five days, I think.” Were he with you, he'd hold you in his arms, kissing your lips. God, how he misses kissing you. All of you. “I’ll keep you updated.”

“It’s okay,” you respond, and in his mind, a blank canvas fills with the familiar image of you lying on your side, curling into a ball the way you always do. “I should go to sleep. Talk to you tomorrow.”

“Sure.” Thank you for everything. “Get some rest.” Are you still in love with me? “Bye.” I’m coming back. You know how I feel about you, do you?

So much left unsaid, words he lacks the strength to speak. That, along with his come-stained clothes. And, of course, the limousine now perfumed like a flower shop.

Exhaustion clings to him again.

His luck has never been this good.

The next afternoon, one of the couple’s kids falls ill. Must be something he ate, the woman tells Logan, her voice light, though he can hear the shuffle of urgency behind her words.

Her husband packs their bags in the background, the muted thuds of luggage hitting the floor. You know how children are. Their hands are always filthy!

What she doesn’t realize is that Logan, in fact, doesn’t know how children are, because how could he?

He’s holed up in the hotel across the street, his only responsibility being to wait on their call, ready to drive whenever they needed him. Needless to say, his accommodations are nothing like theirs. Not that he minds it—he’s not one for luxury, has never needed it.

Truth be told, he’s no stranger to beds that groan if you shift slightly, clogged toilets that spit back water like they’re alive.

Joy rushes through him when he hears the news. He’s coming back earlier than expected, a thrill building in his chest. Twelve days he’s been away, his greed growing with each second in that desolate hotel room.

Now, the beating of his heart quickens, a faint thrumming as he stares out the window. He debates whether to let you know about his early return or keep it as a surprise. Would it be better if he just showed up?

How would you feel, knowing that, by the time the lights are out, he’ll be yours again?

He knows he should feel sorry for the poor kid, but all he can muster is a look of concern that barely reaches his eyes. Each time they pull into a gas station, he listens to the hurried slap of footsteps as the boy rushes for the bathroom to empty his insides.

He watches in the rearview as the kid’s father shakes his head, clicking his tongue with disapproval. “Do you have kids?” he asks, his voice forced into a casual tone, like he’s trying to break the silence that’s settled between them. 

Logan’s only response is to turn up the radio, some pop song he’s never heard spilling from the speakers. The lyrics are a blur of nonsense to him, but it’s enough to drown out the man’s words and the boy’s misery.

Some things never change.

As the sun dips below the horizon, he’s finally free, no longer at anyone’s beck and call. He contemplates the possibility of getting a speeding ticket, weighing his options. It hardly matters. The pull to see you, to feel you, is stronger than anything else.

Even though he tries to think of another time in his life when he felt such a raw need, no memory comes close.

When he does pull up to his place, he does it quietly. Parking the limo, he doesn’t honk, doesn’t announce himself. Fumbling with the keys ever so lightly so as not to wake you up, fitting them into the lock.

His wrist twists, and the door gives way with a soft creak.

Anxiety ripples through him as he steps inside. The smell of freshly cooked food hits him, but it only tightens the knot in his stomach, reminding him of how long it’s been since he last ate.

Later, he tells himself. After. Once he’s sated his true hunger—the kind of hunger that can only be satisfied by sinking his fingers into something real, fleshy, malleable. 

Hunger—yes, it’s animalistic, feral even. Will he be able to control himself once he’s near you? In moments like this, he feels more animal than human. Creeping, on the verge of crawling, back to you.

His feet take him to his bedroom, knowing the path to it very well. Fingers hovering over the knob, he takes a deep breath.

It’s already late, past midnight, yet energy courses through his veins as though he’s just woken from a long, ethereal dream.

He finds you asleep, your body wrapped snugly in the sheets, clutching a pillow close to your chest. Your cheek is pressed into it, breathing soft and steady, lulling him in. Kneeling on the edge of the bed, he kicks off his shoes, then slips in beside you, mirroring your position. 

A lamp sits on his nightstand, one that isn’t his, and he figures you must have brought it from your apartment. There has to be a symbolism for that.

It’s incredible how his entire world can fit into such a narrow bed.

The smart thing would be to let you sleep, to simply watch you for a moment longer. But he can’t help himself.

His thumb lingers near your face before gently cupping your cheek, and the very first contact with your skin sends a shudder through him, the warmth of your skin grounding him. He trails his fingers down to your chin, holding it with just enough pressure to remind himself that he’s here.

Leaning in, he presses his lips softly against your forehead, your typical perfume wrapping around him like a welcome.

Welcome home, Logan.

For the first time, he feels that someone’s been counting down the minutes until his return. He’d always believed a person like him didn’t deserve this. That he just wasn’t built for it.

Countless years had he spent convincing himself he’d never be the kind of man who could inspire love. His life had already been written long ago—predetermined by some cruel hand in the sky.

Destiny, fate, call it what you want—once the cards are laid out, there’s no escaping them. Or so he used to think.

You had taken that pen into your own hands, rewriting his future. You, of all people, had changed his life. No matter what the future held for the two of you, he’d always be grateful. Grateful that you’d seen the dim spark in him that others had chosen to ignore.

Thoughtlessly, his fingers continue their gentle strokes along your cheek, your hair. You stir beside him, shifting in your sleep. Your eyes flutter open, close again, and then open once more, blinking in confusion.

“Logan?” you croak, voice still groggy and thick with sleep, coming to your senses. Before he can respond, you throw yourself on top of him, smothering his face with kisses. “Why—how—”

“Sweetheart,” he says, attempting to hide his grin, but failing when your kisses shift to his neck, your nose nuzzling against his skin. A laugh slips out, warmth flooding his chest.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming home early!”

Home. Had he heard right? Had you used that word knowingly?

Peering into your eyes, he catches his reflection in your pupils, tiredness etched into his features. “Wanted it to be a surprise.”

“You could’ve told me,” you reply, fingers threading through his greying locks, massaging his scalp. You place a tender kiss on the tip of his nose. “I would’ve waited up for you at least.”

“Well, I’m here now,” he whispers back, gaze drifting to your lips, and you close the space between you, his sigh mingling with yours as one hand cradles the small of your back, fisting the fabric of his shirt. His other hand tilts your head, inviting your tongues to greet each other in an unhurried dance.

You move languidly on top of him, and he notices, breaking the kiss and pulling back. “You’re gonna fall asleep on me, are you?”

The way your lashes flutter in response should be illegal. “I could use a human-size pillow.”

“I should shower first.”

“No.”

“Baby, I smell like gas.”

“So?”

A smirk tugs at his lips at your insistence, and he gently lays you back against the mattress. Drawn to your charm once again, he licks into your mouth, mentally scolding himself when he gets carried away, letting the kiss linger longer than intended.

“I’ll be quick,” he promises, pulling the sheets over your body. Resigned, you simply nod, settling on your side.

Ten minutes later, you’re dozing off, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness when he slips into bed, wrapping himself around you from behind. One arm drapes over your waist, the other cushions your head, and there’s not a patch of skin between you left untouched.

Fatigue begins to delve deeper into his bones the longer he stays curled around you, but before the weight of sleep takes him, and the silence steals his chance, he huffs: “I missed you.” His beard grazes your skin in a soft, unintentional caress.

You pull his wrist to your lips, pressing a short-lived kiss to the inside of it. “Missed you, too.”

How the roles have reversed.

In the quietness of this starless night, you leave him no other choice but to believe you.

3:34 a.m. Still hostage to the lack of light outside. The world remains submerged in the gentle tides of sleep, undulating between dreams, except for him.

Logan wakes up at 3:34 a.m. because he’s rock hard, and being flushed against your back wasn’t helping him with his situation at all. If anything, it only heightened it.

He sits at the edge of the bed, his mind running in circles, debating whether he should jump to his feet and head to the bathroom for another shower—this time, a cold one. Returning to sleep, at least in this moment, is not a viable option.

His gaze drifts to the moonlight spilling through the window, casting its pale glow across the room. Is this your doing? The question lingers, unshakable, in his thoughts. It remains as just that: a question.

When you quietly rest your chin on his shoulder, he stifles a sigh, biting the inside of his cheek. Your voice breaks through the quiet.

“What’s wrong? Can’t sleep?” Wrapping your arms around him from behind, you circle his frame, in an effort to persuade him to sink back into the mattress.

“It’s nothing,” he says, pulse accelerating. Please, don’t look down. “I’ll be back in a second.”

“But what is—”

He doesn’t get to hear the rest of your sentence. You do look down, finding the outline of his hardened cock straining against his briefs, stealing your full attention.

“Wow.”

“Go back to sleep.”

“And leave you like this?” One hand creeps toward his waistband, your breath warm against his ear. “Wouldn’t miss this for anything in the world.”

Your nails trace a path through the coarse hair at his navel, and Logan tenses. His legs feel like jelly as you cup his balls, fondling them gently between your fingers.

Behind him, your low chuckle stirs something primal in him, making his blood thrum hot beneath his skin. He should be the one doing this to you, not the other way around.

“Darlin’, I don’t—” He’s cut off by his own guttural groan when you fist his length, pumping him in rhythm with his uneven breaths. “I don’t need this.”

“Seems like you do,” you whisper, momentarily halting your ministrations to place your palm in front of his face, hoping he takes the hint. You kiss his stubble, pausing just short of his mouth. “I want to take care of you. Always do.”

Your palm hovers before him, inviting. Grabbing your wrist, he licks it, coating it in his spit and guiding you back down to him. Together, your hands glide along his length, and his gaze locks onto yours, the intensity of it making his neck tense.

You beam with delight under his stare. That red organ caged within his ribs—a blood-pumping machine of passion—surges back to life as he sees you.

He had won the battle. He had triumphed over his past; had lived enough lives, endured enough years, to arrive at this moment.

This had to be the purpose of his existence: to share this part of his stay on earth with you.

“You’re so hard,” you say, twisting your wrist at the tip of his cock, reveling in every buck of his hips, each movement a reflection of his exaltation. “Guess you did miss me.”

With a quiet growl, he reaches behind, nudging your thighs apart until they find your mound, cupping you through your underwear. “I’m not the only one who’s been missin’ someone.” He pulls the fabric aside, sliding his fingers through your wet folds. His nostrils flare as he feels how ready you are. “Why am I not surprised?”

Your breath hitches, and you press yourself closer against him, your tits against his back, mouth teasing at his neck. “That’s what happens when you’re gone.” Another kiss on his nape. “You could take me with you next time.”

“Can’t do that,” he answers, teasing your entrance. “No work would get done.”

His movements cease to a stop. Yours do too. Turning his head just enough to glance over his shoulder, he scrutinizes your expression, pride swelling in his chest as he takes in your affected state.

“You’re not goin’ back to sleep, are you?”

There’s the shake of your head. A single word escapes your lips, imbued with pure fervor: “Please.”

He captures your mouth in an ardent kiss, tugging at your shirt (which is, in fact, his) to undress you, his wandering hands roaming beneath it.

As his mouth meets your neck, something cold brushes against his lips, drawing his gaze down to what’s hanging from your neck.

His dog tags. The ones he had given you before leaving for that job, as his way of telling you I’m coming back without having to say it aloud. And you, as always, understood; had even promised to keep them safe, though he hadn’t expected you to actually wear them.

Now, with your shirt discarded, they lay against your bare skin, his name resting in the valley between your breasts.

“You like ‘em?” His fingers grip the chain and give it a gentle tug, drawing you closer so he can breathe over your lips, his breath mingling with yours. “Like knowing you’re mine? You get off on it?”

You nod in agreement. Of course, you do. Though emotionally constipated and not the most expressive, Logan is a lover who knows how to awaken desire—a good lover, indeed. A decent one.

Which is why he agrees to any idea that crosses your mind, like the one you just whispered in his ear.

He may be older than you, but he’s always been more on the traditional side. You, on the other hand, are continually searching for new ways to innovate.

The round globes of your ass jiggle over his face as he spreads you apart, entrenched by how your skin moves above him, your glistening hole clenching around nothing, as if your body itself is calling to him.

With his head propped against the headboard, he watches you take him deeper, your saliva dripping down the wiry hairs of his cock. The slick heat of your tongue traces over his slit, back and forth, driving him to the edge.

When he hears you gag, it stirs something inside him—a deep need to return the favor, to match your devotion.

At the end of the day, he’s a man on a mission, and right now, that mission is you.

Right there, with his nose and mouth buried in you, he wonders why he hadn't thought of this sooner. If he could choose a natural end like any other man, he'd wish for it to be by suffocation—your body his last breath.

Logan inhales deeply, like a man starved, working two of his fingers inside your throbbing center, his tongue flicking relentlessly over your clit, punching moan after moan out of you. Each thrust of his fingers, each stroke of his tongue, sends waves of pleasure coursing through you.

His beard, streaked with gray, leaves a trail of fire wherever your hips meet his face, pushing back against him. Every so often, you pull off his cock just to ramble, panting, about how good he's making you feel.

From where he lies, you’re a sight to behold, nothing short of divine. “Just what I needed, doll. You taste so fuckin’ sweet,” he blurts out, your frantic cries pouring into his ears as he sucks the swollen bud between his lips. “Can’t believe you let me do this to you. You love makin’ your old man happy, don’t you?”

He used to think he'd burn in hell for indulging in the desire to know you like this—raw, ungraceful.

His judgment must be fucked up, because now, all he sees in you is heaven incarnate. You must be the closest thing to it he’ll ever find.

“Shit, I…” you trail off, gasping as he replaces his fingers with his tongue, drinking from your arousal and tasting every bit of you. “I thought about you every day.”

“Bet you did, just like that night I called you. You know how I felt when you told me you were wearing my clothes?” His hand comes down with a firm slap on your right asscheek, drawing a whine from you as your movements falter. “Can smell you all over these sheets. Makes me wonder how many times you made yourself come while I was away.”

You slip the tip of his cock back in your mouth, your hands and lips working in sync. His nose brushes against the plush skin of your thighs before his teeth graze your flesh, biting down just enough to leave a sting. His fingers curl inside you, hitting that perfect spot again and again, and you moan around him, your throat vibrating against his length.

He makes you come like this, knuckles deep inside you while his thumb circles your clit. Overwhelmed by pleasure, you let go of his dick, and it hits Logan’s stomach with a wet pop. His strong arms tug you closer to his face, eyes falling closed as you ride the wave of your orgasm against his mouth, palms pressed flat on his chest.

For a brief moment, he can’t breathe, can’t feel anything but you, your scent, your taste filling his senses.

Later, he rolls you onto your back and climbs on top of you, uncertain of how much time he has spent lapping at your wetness. His hard length glides along your folds, and he lines himself up without pushing in, looking right into your eyes. 

“Remember what I told you that night over the phone?” he asks, his breath coming in quick bursts, and you nod, head lolling back as he pinches your lower lip between his fingers. “Repeat it.”

“Logan—”

“You say it, and I’ll make it happen.”

Perplexity clouds your features. “You said you’d fuck me slow and deep, just h-how I like it. Face to face, because—”. The words escape you, a sob tearing through your throat as he eases the first few inches of himself inside you, your walls instinctively making space to wrap around him.

He’s home.

“Go on. What else did I say?” he teases, relishing in it. He’s guilty as sin. “Or were you too lost in thought touchin’ yourself?”

“F-face to face,” you slur, nails digging into his scarred back, and he keeps plunging his length into your interior to the hilt. Your lips part slightly, craving the kiss that only he can give you. “You said you’d do it face to face so I could kiss you whenever I wanted.”

He hums, low in his throat, as he gives the first thrust of the night, taking great pleasure in your expression: open-mouthed, eyes scrunched, and a slight crease forming between your brows.

Smoothing his thumb over your forehead, he tsks, pausing his movements. “None of that, princess. Look at me, c’mon.”

You obey, forcing your eyes open, and in that instant, he swears he can feel every tremor coursing through you. “Logan,” you coo, your voice aching as you stretch your neck toward his mouth.

The way you say his name—seductively, charged with a fascination that riles him up—manages to ignite a fire only you can kindle. It’s all the invitation he needs.

“I know. Too much, huh?” His tone drips with condescension, teasing in a way that feels almost cruel. He can’t help it, though: it’s in very his nature. “Need to hear you say it. Need you to tell me how much you want this.”

Like everything else in your world, your patience begins to wither, hips instinctively bucking beneath him, seeking even the slightest bit of friction. But he still withholds the kiss you long for, dangling it just out of reach.

“Please,” you beg, voice breaking as you plead. “Fuck me, baby. Missed you so much while you were away. Please, please, please—”

Logan enjoys hearing you beg. He won’t pretend otherwise. There's a satisfaction in knowing he holds this power over you, that he's the only one who can unravel you this way, your body splayed open beneath him.

The thought of others who may have once been in his place, making you fall apart just like this, sets his blood on edge.

Jealousy, sharp and corrosive, crawls up his spine, and it spurs him on, guiding the tempo of his thrusts.

He wonders if he’s ever fucked you this fiercely before, with a passion that pulses from every part of him. You’re given no space for thought, no moment to catch your breath—just his unforgiving pace and the sounds spilling from your lips.

He has a way of breaking you down, turning you into a trembling, whimpering mess beneath him, and you surrender willingly, craving each second of it.

So fuckin’ tight. Can y’hear her? How badly she needs me?

Sex had never felt like this before. He’d grown accustomed to quick, meaningless fucks in poorly lit bars, fleeting encounters that left him questioning if this was all there was. If this wasn’t the best he’d ever know. 

For a while, he’d tried to solve that emptiness, searching in nameless lovers and hollow hearts for the very thing he feared most: love.

And yet, he wanted it, yearned it, guarding his desire like a secret he barely admitted to himself. Until one day, you stumbled into his life, and all the strength he thought he had wasn’t enough to push you away.

He presses deep into the back of your thighs, bringing your chests so close they're nearly brushing. Claiming your mouth in a maddening kiss, all teeth and tongue, leaving no space for softness. As he nibbles at your bottom lip, he feels you tighten around him, your cunt pulling him under, clouding his thoughts.

“Close?” he murmurs, hips snapping against you with an utterly obscene rhythm that drowns out the world, better than any song ever made. “Such a good girl. Gonna come, sweetheart? Let me see how gorgeous you look when you fall apart, making a mess just for me.”

The constant, steady drag of his cock doesn’t seem to get old for you. He’s leaving his mark within you, inside you, carving a space for himself. His tip keeps hitting all the right spots, prompting you to tilt your pelvis to meet him halfway, telling him there, yes, there. More, please.

His hand slides down, rubbing your clit with his fingers. Doesn’t need any extra help when doing so, your arousal providing all the slickness he needs. He feels like a runner on the final stretch, the finish line within reach, so close he can almost touch it, savoring the euphoria and bliss of crossing it.

The way you sing his name never loses its allure, despite all the times he’s heard it spill from your lips. Especially at this moment, with him buried deep inside you, every thrust a promise to make you feel good.

You shamelessly come while he keeps driving into you, vigorous and untamed—like a caged animal unleashed, tasting freedom for the very first time.

Ankles digging into his lower back, a trail of persistent kisses along his beard. You want him inside, that much he can tell.  It’s not like he ever finishes anywhere else, but the reminder doesn’t bother him. It only serves as a reassurance: that you still want this, want him. You haven’t changed your mind.

He sinks his teeth into your neck the instant he feels his orgasm tearing through him, hips stilling and sagging as a string of grunts abandons his being, dampening your skin even more.  He loves to fill you up, it consumes him entirely.

Such an intimate, visceral act, and then he gets to see his seed trickling down your thighs. He realizes that he doesn’t need much to be happy.

You keep kissing him, his neck, his face. It may seem absurd to say that every kiss feels like the first, yet it’s true.

Even after he’s traced all the contours of your mouth and committed every detail of your body to memory, he can’t help but feel that same thrill of excitement he experienced months ago when he dared to push beyond the boundaries he had set for himself.

Staring at each other, naked, all the love in the world seems to fill these four walls. The compassion and tenderness in your gaze remain unchanged. You’re a dream come true.

It can’t end like this. He can’t allow you to drift back into sleep without saying what needs to be said. Something has to happen, something only he can conjure.

“I think…” He hesitates. Starting with I think carries an air of uncertainty. “I don’t—”

“Logan,” you interrupt, your hand finding his. “I know.”

Yes, you do. You always seem to know everything, but that can’t be enough. He can’t lean on your unspoken understanding of his feelings.

“You still deserve to hear it.”

“It’s not necessary.”

“It is.”

More silence. The moon is the solitary spectator of his upcoming declaration. 

“You were right,” he begins, drawing your intertwined hands closer to his face, pressing a soft kiss on the back of yours. His voice drops to a murmur. It’s not just his body that feels completely exposed anymore; something deeper within him stands bare. “I’m in love with you.”

You scrutinize him as if he’s revealing the secret to eternal life. Again, you kiss his cheek, cupping it gently with your palm.

“It won’t get any better than this. There are no more layers to peel away, okay?” He offers explanations you never even asked for in the first place. “This is what I am.” Much to his dismay, you overlook his choice of words: what instead of who.

He glances away, his gaze landing on the dog tags resting against your skin. The same old guilt threatens to engulf him, as it does each time without fail, and that seems to be your cue to lower yourself to his eye level, eyebrows raised.

“I’m not with you because I’m waiting for you to change. I like you just as you are, Logan. And I want all of you, both the good and bad stuff.” A gentle smile breaks across your face as you stretch your arm to retrieve his glasses from the nightstand. Placing them on your nose, your eyes twinkle with contentment. “Do they look good on me?”

“You don’t need them yet.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t pull them off.”

“Come here,” he mutters, sighing when you nuzzle his chest, cradling your head between his hands. He ponders what to say, what to do next, but no clear idea sounds promising.

And so it gives you the chance to speak up: “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

I hope I don’t, he thinks to himself as he brushes your hair away from your face, fingers caressing your temples. I hope I never do.

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! <3

[respectthepetty]

Pit Babe Colors Ep. 12 The Black Parade Episode

I'm challenging myself with this show and seeing how good my color skills really are, so I'm doing my normal thing of watching it double-speed on mute, but now, the captions are off also. It's just colors and vibes here. Y'all done told be EVERYTHING, so I know the entire plot now.

THAT WAS A TEAR! KENTA IS CRYING!

I thought it wasn't just sweat last week but knowing he is actually crying as he thinks about their past did immediate damage to me, and now they are ALL standing there in the dark with Way and Pete highlighted by the blue, and, and, and . . . Kentana are you gonna die? You and Waymond are stressing me the fuck out!

Now that I know they are both enigmas, I can't see them the same. Are they using their superpowers on each other right now? Are they reading each other's minds? Are they trying to figure out how to get Kentana back, so they can make this poly?

Kentana, how many times are you going to have this man spit in your face before you realize that he ain't shit? Go to your room, turn on Billie Eilish's "Happier Than Ever" and really hear it. "Never told anyone anything bad cause that shit's embarrassing. You were my everything, and all that you did was make me fucking sad."

The blue keys in front of the red product placement is all I need to be reminded that this show refuses to allow me peace.

Shocking absolutely fucking nobody, Kentana did not listen to "Happier Than Ever"

And now someone is gonna die because there are only so many ways for you and Waymundo to redeem yourselves, and if you have Jeffrey in all black, I'm worried it's gonna be your funeral we will be planning next, Kentana.

There is one episode left and I am death gripping the one time Vegas' Hedgehog wore blue because I will never get it again. I hate them.

Real question: Is Barbie pregnant? I know he is sad Charles is "dead" *eye roll* but he is taking pills, getting fruit thrown at him, and staring out into space. I would love to believe he is going through his Edward-left-Bella-so-she-was-super-duper-sad era, but now that I know pregnancy is on the table, that's all I can see.

Oh, thank goodness! Someone actually has a tracker on his phone! But Kimberly has been kidnapped, caught up in human trafficking, and is now beating up children. Bro, what was your life before it all went to shit? Do you ever call your mom and tell her these are your friends now? Are you even still racing? Nevermind. Go catch those kids.

The problem with black is the shades. Waymond's jacket looks green. Peter's pants look blue. And yet it still feels like we are preparing for a funeral. A real one this time. Not fake like someone else's *cough* Charles *cough*

Kentana, are you betraying Jeffrey as Big Red watches? Or are you asking him how Peter's been? Has he been well, without you? Is he dating anyone? What is his status with Way? Well, Jeffrey wouldn't know, but Peter x Waymond could be poly if you get out of that fucking house and stop kidnapping people!

Going from Kentana in that House of Horrors to Pete looking like this makes me understand why Kentana is out there kidnapping people. I'd feel some type of way too if my childhood crush looked like this and was getting chummy with a dude who looked like Way Way. Damn.

What the hell is this?! The cover of a boy band album? A meeting to discuss poly? The Thai version of Barbie where Ken(tana) explains why he won't leave the Mojo Dojo Casa House? AND WHY ARE ALL OF YOU WEARING BLACK?! Someone is gonna die.

Did Big Red know Kentana went to see Barbie and the other Kens?! Was he sent there by Big Red?! Kentana is really breaking my heart on his knees hugging this man like this. I want to slap Kentana all the time, but I also want to hug him and tuck him into bed with a moon nightlight calmly lighting up the room.

Let's stick him in a video game, so he can learn to love himself.

Push him down the stairs, Kentana! Do it. PLEASE! Shoulder check his ass at least.

Oh Lord, NO! Waymond, do not take a fucking bullet for anyone. You canNOT die by Whiny Winifred's bullet. I refuse to let you go out like that. You finally used your powers for good, but this is not the time to die.

Y'ALL DIDN'T EVEN GRAB THE BAG!

This is Mission Kim Possible all over again! How do you not grab the damn bag?! Waymundo looks so damn good in his suit, so thank God he is still alive, but what the fuck guys?! One job! SECURE. THE. BAG.

I hate how good everyone looks in black because I keep swinging through emotions. I'm terrified for everyone yet very attracted to everyone. All the guys connected to Big Red have been in black this episode regardless if it was their color or not, so I'm hoping that means the funeral will be Big Red's.

A cult meeting, in this economy? Villains make the dumbest decisions.

Waymond has some white on . . . over black. Please Mary, mother of God, do not let him do something stupid.

Alan, did you just say "eff them kids"? No. Not my Alan. He'll be back for them. Right. Right?

Peter is gonna Regina George his way into this Halloween party that he was not invited to just to cause some havoc. Mad respect.

WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE?!

How the hell did Charles get there?! Did Barbie's dad tell him to go to the cult meeting? Dressed like that though? Did his spidey sense go off? So many questions, but all I know is Kentana better let them go, so he doesn't have to die.

Whiny Winifred better not get better at aiming in the final episode because I still need both of these two to wear blue TOGETHER.

WAYMOND, NO!!!!!!!!!!

Good to know it only took being kidnapped twice and (possibly) someone dying for Jeffrey to finally commit to the blue.

My nerves are wrecked. There was too much black this episode. Someone is going to die, and as much as I want it to be Big Red, I just don't feel good that Kentana is still on his bullshit, and Waymond keeps jumping in front of guns. Peter needs both of his boyfriends to live.

Also, Barbara, I already know you are immediately going to hug Charles next week, instead of having a moment to be pissed all the way off at him like you should be, so I'm going to start meditating on that right now. I've been mad at Charles the entire season, so I'll hold this grudge for both of us in the finale.

[cordelia-noir]

I have a DBDA prompt for you, if you're interested! I realized earlier today that in episode 5, when Crystal says something like "All three of us lost our lives to boys who went too far, that's a really shitty thing to have in common," she isn't referring to the boys, but to Maren and Shelby! She doesn't actually know the specifics of how the boys died! So my prompt is: what if Charles or Edwin had replied with something like "That makes the five of us, actually," leading into briefly sharing exactly how they died. ✨Trauma Bonding✨

This is definitely more of a gen prompt, but I thought I'd share anyway, in case it peaked your interest �� no worries either way, and happy writing!! Hope you feel better soon :D

I’m not sure if I agree with that reading of the scene. In context, I do think that Crystal is referring to her and boys, but the angst! I love this idea for a fic, so here we go!

Read on AO3

“All three of us lost our lives to boys who went too far, that's a really shitty thing to have in common,” Crystal said, glancing back at the police station where Maren had just confessed to her crimes. 

Edwin looked away and swallowed, though by all reasonable metrics he shouldn't need to. 

“I suppose that the same could be said of Maren and Shelby as well,” he said, still looking away, across the street and into the trees. “Though I agree that it is not a club in which I would like to see new members.”

Crystal shook her head.

“I’m sorry, what?” she asked, looking between the two boys. “I was talking about Maren and Shelby, who are you talking about?”

Charles gave a short little laugh, though it didn’t sound even as joyful as his usual, self-deprecating laughs. 

“Well, I guess that’s all five of us, huh?” Charles said, clapping Edwin on the back. Edwin didn’t react at all, just kept staring into the distance. 

Crystal opened her mouth, then closed it again, struggling to find the right words. When words did finally come out, she was pretty sure that they were still the wrong ones. 

“Wait, how the fuck did you two die?”

Charles looked surprised. 

“Well I died of internal bleeding and hypothermia and Edwin got summoned to hell on a technicality, you know that.”

“Yeah, but neither of those things involve assholes who went too far,” Crystal said, willing it to be true.

Edwin huffed a laugh and turned to start walking toward The Tongue and Tail. Charles and Crystal followed mutely.

“Five boys from my school summoned a demon to “scare me”,” Edwin said, raising his gloved hands to do some frankly unnecessary air quotes, “While they tied me to a table and called me things I’d rather not repeat.”

“Jesus,” Crystal breathed.

“Though I suppose it’s different,” Ediwn continued, undeterred, “since they were also taken to hell, they ruined their own lives as well.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask,” Crystal said when it was clear that Edwin was done speaking for the moment. “But what happened to you, Charles?”

“Some other boys beat me up and chased me into a lake,” Charles said with a shrug.

“In February,” Edwin added, “After saving another boy from a similar fate.”

“Shit,” Crystal said softly. “No wonder you had such little patience for my drama with David.”

That got Edwin to stop walking and do a dramatic turn back to face her. 

“I have dealt with many demons, Crystal,” Edwin said earnestly, “And while David is not particularly powerful, he is remarkably tenacious, even for his kind. I… regret being so dismissive of his actions toward you. I fear that my experiences have made me somewhat numb to the difficulties and I failed to take into consideration what it must be like to be going through it all for the first time.”

Charles moved closer to Edwin so that their shoulders bumped against one another. Crystal wondered vaguely if this was the compromise they’d come to over the years considering Edwin’s general aversion to hugs.

“Well,” she said, stepping up to Edwin’s other side and using her shoulder to bump his arm the same way Charles had. “It’s still a really shitty thing for us all to have in common.”

“Quite,” Edwin agreed. “Well I think that’s quite enough emotion for one day. I am unaccustomed to it. Shall we continue with our work then?”

[missheavenfield1215]

Have you noticed that Beetlejuice and The Corpse Bride have the same climax??

A dead person

Who wants to marry a living person

Although it was against the will of that living person

When I realized this... I couldn't stop drawing

Beetlejuice ~Corpse Bride AU~

*In this AU, everyone is an adult*

*All my drawings are below in this post*

In this AU, Lydia takes the role of Victor, Beetlejuice is Emily, Elder Gudnekt could be Otto, Adam and Barbara would be the Everglot couple (of course, here, they have no bad intentions).

Lydia and her father, Charles, come from the great city of London, to expand their funeral services franchise, in addition to having gone through another marriage.

Charles had Lydia's mother, Emily, who passed away when she was 8 years old. At work, Charles met Delia, who was suffering from a fatal illness, but never told Charles that she was sick. So 4 years after their wedding, Delia also passed away.

To forget his grief, Charles became obsessed with his work and abandoned Lydia in their grief (as she also got along well with her). Lydia doesn't want to get married and hates the idea of being trapped forever in a useless marriage, which will only take away her freedom. Although she thinks that marriage is just a contract, deep inside her, she really feels that if she falls in love, it will only bring her pain and sorrow, just like her father.

Beetlejuice, here called Lawrence Shaggoth, is the only son of the honorable aristocratic marriage Shaggoth. In his youth Lawrence had a preference for men, but despite that, Adam was one of his friends. But when the time came for Lawrence to marry a young woman that his own mother raised so that Lawrence would "become normal." Juno is a homophobic bitch, so after receiving the news that her son was eloping with his lover, she decided to take matters into her own hands.

Juno bribed Lawrence's lover, who really only wanted the young man's money. Juno told the boy that she would pay him whatever he wanted, if he took Lawrence, destroyed him emotionally and murdered him. The boy did so, but the young woman Juno had "adopted", Angeline (Miss Argentina) had witnessed the whole sinister plan.

Juno learned that once Lawrence married, he would inherit everything as stipulated in his father's will. So, to continue with the lie, Juno took a young prostitute to "convince" Lawrence to escape and leave everything behind and thus demarcate him from the surname Shaggoth, since in her eyes, Lawrence was unworthy of such a title. But it turned out that she found out about his affair with a boy, and apparently he was cheating on him.

Lawrence, about to die and feeling betrayed and very scared, recites a poem to calm himself, but he does not know that this poem would be his condemnation and his salvation. Once the conditions stipulated in the poem were met, it would come back to life.

That's why Lawrence needs Lydia to marry him, because then he will come back to life, but he doesn't really have the idea of really falling in love with that "someone" to help him.

Here Adam and Barbara are also aristocrats, but their family name is in decline and they are on the verge of poverty. They decide to adopt Adam's youngest nephew, named Vincent, to prepare him for a marriage with which they can cope with the imminent poverty that awaits their family. They believe it would be best if Vincent chooses his future wife, and he chooses Lydia to marry and she is forced to do so by her father.

Lydia runs away from the engagement after finishing the wedding rehearsal and, as if to mock her father, she says: "I'd rather marry a dead person than someone who doesn't know me!"

It is then that Lawrence appears and proposes to marry him and when he comes back to life, he will help her escape the country and her father.

But neither of them really expected to fall in love with each other when they got to know each other in depth.

But there is the problem of Juno, who no longer has money and it is then that she uses Lydia's disappearance to extort money from Charles and promise him that she will look for the young woman.

And after thinking about all that... That's when I started drawing

"I just want to be alive... And I... "

"I don't want to be alone"

"In this cruel world"

These are small test sketches

Here's a closer shot of a Beetlejuice killed by his lover...

This is Lawrence, moments before his death. When his lover asked him to elope with some of the wealth, Lawrence dressed in his white wedding suit, but it was dyed red when a shotgun bullet pierced his ribs. (yes in the same place where Lydia stabbed him in the musical, both wounds were caused by a stab wound in the back... A betrayal)

Well... I had many things to say... But in essence that is the basis of everything.

This AU really works with any version of Beetlejuice, but mostly works best with the Headcanons of the musical.

(New information, I'm going to upload the update on my headcanons about this AU, when the post is ready, here will be a link)

[fiveredlights]

I can't lie, I'm obsessed with your daniel ricciardo: team principal fic so I'd like to hear what's to come please? :3 probably cheating by asking about 2 fics in one but is the inception one Maxiel as well? Because oh boy I would love to hear about it too...

I'm sorry, you write so well I just want to hear about all of them now :D

daniel team principal au:

Max nods slowly, blinking a couple times as he searches for what to say. Daniel reaches across the table with his palm up and Max slides his hand in without hesitation.

Easily, one might say.

“I think maybe we have already gone through all the difficult bits so we deserve the easy things now,” Max says simply.

inception au:

When Max finds Daniel he’s lounging on a beach chair, wearing some god awful designer patterned silk set, sunglasses low on his nose, nursing a beer, rolling his three sided die in between his fingers.

And he’s got that fucking moustache again.

the interlude/summer break chapter is basically just max and daniel sitting down being like whatever shit we’ve held in to each other over the past couple of years needs to come out because i think they both know they’re probably exiting summer break in a different type of relationship.

like they probably know they love each other but this is the final hurdle to cross that bridge so they don’t enter a relationship with ghosts that pop back up halfway through!

inception au my (not so secret now) beloved child that mainly exists in my head… it’s basically if arthur and eames were together and the main focus of the movie but with maxiel. it’s a very loose interpretation of the movie, like the characters aren’t 1 to 1 but the whole dreaming stuff is roughly the same. no dead wives or estranged children they do it for the money and for the fact if they pull this off toto or whoever the client is will wipe their ledgers clean.

sebastian and lewis run the whole thing, and they recruit charles (the ariadne) as the architect etc. he’s a little bit infatuated with sebastian and daniel laughs his ass off when he watches charles realise that lewis is seb’s husband. whoops. alex and george are also there, alex as the chemist and george as the money.

maxiel are in a ??? relationship, like a friends with benefits that hate each other but also flirt with each other until their dying breath but also only ever fuck with each other. so dating but without ever saying the word dating otherwise both of them will run. max is the arthur, daniel the eames and their totems match—daniel has a 3 sided die and max has a poker chip with 33 white squares on the outer ring (because i’m annoying like that)

the actual inceptioning itself is something ridiculous like toto hiring them to intercept into christian or zak’s mind to get them to sign one of the mercedes drivers because toto doesn’t wanna fire them (because 💰) so he thinks paying this group to perform a complicated and never done before inception is easier… yeah rich people are weird but anyways

[flufallo]

Some random, out of context lines from only the best show in the world

"YOU are the brawn?"

"If she'd died last night, I'd have no problem with her being here!" "Well that got dark"

"We've met phychics before, but none as fit as you" "HAH. Did that work on girls back in the 80s?"

"Are you ready to talk to her shoes?"

"And those girls are staring..." "Mabye it's your outfit" *middle finger*

"I don't care how old you are. Go to bed"

"Well, I'm very open minded and also very concerned about bursting open" "honestly I just find her so charming"

"Are you insane?"

"so I'm a... Tree?"

"Cute? Thats offensive"

"It smells like dog shit in there"

"I'll make sure to jot that down in my journal of opinions I DO NOT GIVE A DAMN ABOUT"

"Luckily, love requires no logic"

"MONTY! JESUS! I'm tryna... Threaten some kids"

"Are you ready to talk to her shoes?"

"Fuck off, the kid had a sardine"

"E-yup"

"she's always... Changing outfits"

"Are you being threatening or is this a sexy choking?"

"weeee!"

"In my experience, uptight boys like a bit of rough play" "... Right" (my poor innocent Edwin has no idea what that means)

"Hello, um, cute little friend with the bow tie"

"Teethface, what the fuck?"

"I'm just a really old man who lives in a fish"

"Specificity is key"

*Girls react sword death* "was that good? Were you scared?" "Pff, no. The sword would of punctured the lung, leaving her *gasping noises* unable to scream. Not to mention the sheer amount of blood filling her mouth. Very disappointing girls"

"You guys are like a dead married couple on acid"

"Is that my left or your left?" "We have the same left!"

"No, it is the blue book on the top left corner" *picks up pink book* "does that look blue to you, Charles?"(Colour blind Charles yaas)

"Well, that's harsh. But also charmingly stubborn. Capricorn?"

"Were not living anywhere, because your not living"

"This detective work is much measure than it ever looked on scooby doo"

"Two boys can like like each other, you know. I have a lot of manga about it. It's very sweet, and explicit"

"Again, a handshake would suffice"

"Yes, your highness"

"What is a hand job?"

"Well have to investigate further into this Molly character"

"At least one of you is in school, right?"

"You've been spending a lot of time with that one... Monty... You... A lot of time?" "Hmm? Merely swapping books is all"

"Oh my fucking fuck"

"I thought you were like a meat robber or a meat pervert or something"

"If you need anything, just shout. But don't actually shout. It's a library"

"Are you always a woman, is Charles ever a woman, can you change your eyes and nose like Mr potato head, do you know who mr potato head is?"

"Your such a whore"

"You don't look like a walrus"

"this looks like the places in those fish stick commercials I like"

"Charles, be less British. Edwin, be less Edwin"

"oh no, it's porn. It's all just porn"

"there are 142 cats" "142? That's way off!" (It's four off)

"and when he gets back from hell, I'll be waiting. God, I am such a romantic I hate it!"

"do you and Charles.. um... Have a special friendship?" "We are best friends, if you must know." (Keep him innocent guys)

"have you seen a Victrola anywhere?" "What?"

"oh, I think I'm gonna be sick!" "You are a ghost, Charles. You cannot get sick"

"well, maybe karma's just a bitch"

"I heard they died in some gay suicide pact"

"I have never wanted to get back inside someone more" (out of context this one just sounds so wrong lmao)

"are you saying my ghost friend isn't going to die? Super, thanks."

[dickinfectionbez-deactivated2011]

Adora. Okay this is my question to u based on a game me and my friend played. How many shots do you think it would take before you sleep with any of the members of the f1 grid (2024 AND 2012🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️)

Rey you are unleashing a monster ANYWAYS!!!!

2024 -

Oscar Piastri - 4 shots of Wrey and Nephew because that's my Homeslice's babygirl girlfriend and i would not fuck over my homeslice

Lando Norris - Alcohol Poisioning id rather die

Yuki - 2 shots but like for funsies

Liam - 2 shots but like we'd probably end up watching the cars movies

Max - 3 shots FOR COURAGE HELLO HAVE YOU SEEN THAT MAN

Checo - 8 shots i'd rather bag his wife

Nico - 5 shots he's..... interesting

Kevin - 1 shot for courage

Alex - 4 shots, we are both londoners but he was born in central so i will make fun of him a lot and i need Lily carnally

Franco - S T O N E C O L D S O B E R

Zhou - 8 shots that man's cat will be hovering in the room and it's eyes are........ something

Valtteri - 3 shots only because i think he wants to be pegged

Lewis - 4 shots for my own health HAVE YOU SEEN HIM OHHH MY GOD

George - 2 shots but for him not me. then 2 shots for me because i'm 80% sure he will go Yaaba Daaba Doo when he cums as a joke

Charles - 2 shots if he's fucking me for courage, 1 if he is getting pegged

Carlos - 7 shots, he's got good hair and thats really it for me

Esteban - 1 shot because he's cute. and i also want his mother carnally.

Pierre - 9 shots, i need to be passed out to sleep with a man who refers to himself as tripod.

Lance - 5 shots, i need to peg mr cow eyes. Also i'm sure we support opposing ice hockey teams.

Fernando - SOBER I NEED TO REMEBER EVERYTHING I NEED HIM CARNALLY. PUSSY THROBBING AND ALL THAT

2012 -

Sebastian - 3 shots. he's a cheeky bastard

Jenson - SOBER ONCE AGAIN I NEED THAT SLUT AND WE AIN'T STOPPING TILL SOMEONE DIES

Fernando - see above

Kimi- 4 shots for courage......... sucking on his nipples and all

Lewis - 3 shots, because he's bald.

Mark Webber - 6 shots he looks like Steve from Minecraft

Massa - 5 shots, i need to be tipsy for him to crash his f1 car into my singapore wall

Romain - eh 7 shots i would be more hyperfixated on his eyebrows (well whats there anyways)

Nico - SOBER and I need to be Eiffel towered between him and Vivian.

Checo - 3 shots, only because of his wife

Nico H - 4 shots because i know he'd say some fucking joke about him being a force india driver and me being indian (i'm half indian and why would you bring up my bio dad's side of the family during sex. Why are you bringing up my trauma balls deep huh?)

Kamui - 2 shots he seems fun

Michael - 6 shots he just has this aura..... also i fear i need his wife too at the same time

Paul - 3 shots only because i refuse to fuck a guy named paul while sober

Pastor - 7 shots be looks wayyyy to much like the doodh wala

Bruno - 4 shots he looks like someone and i don't know who

Jean-eric - 9 shots because he's french

Daniel - 9 shots because he's australian

Vitaly - 18 shots he looks like he wants to be a Gallager brother not for the Oasis fame but so he can lob a shoe at both their heads and make them kiss

Timo - 2 shots for courage I need that greying man

Charles - 3 shots he looks like he was an extra on the set of skins

Heikki - 4 shots because I know his ass will refuse to put brown contacts on and will only want missionary

Jerome - 3 shots only because he looks like he should have died of the plague in the middle ages

Narain - 2 shots because he looks like he would want me to moan his full name and then correct me on the pronounciation of 'Ram'

Pedro - 3 shots only because he looks like he bites and i know he'll be an ass and try to fuck up my tattoo

[mayhemchicken-varneyposting]

Varney the Vampire, Chapter 14: I Do Not Drink...Wine

[Previous chapter] [Next chapter]

A servant enters, bringing a tray of refreshments, but Henry is in no mood for snacking and Varney is...ahem...on a strict diet. Henry notices a scar on Varney's forehead, and remembers that the man in the portrait has the exact same scar. By this point Henry has had enough, and rises to leave. Varney asks him for an answer about the selling of Bannerworth Hall, and Henry replies that Varney can have it if he promises to never show his face to anyone in the family again. Varney is disappointed by this answer, as he was hoping to get to know Henry's sister, and Henry all but calls Varney a monster to his face.

Henry and Marchdale finally leave. Henry is so agitated that he wants to either kill Varney or die. Marchdale urges him to cool it on the thoughts of murder, reminding him that his sister, whom Henry had forgor, is also in danger of becoming a vampire, and only has Henry for support. Henry points out that she also has Charles; Marchdale scoffs at this, predicting that Charles will desert Flora due to her having been tainted by the vampire. Henry is offended on Charles' behalf but stops short of becoming angry with Marchdale.

The two of them briefly discuss methods of killing a vampire, but soon set such plans aside, focusing instead on the task at hand of lying to the rest of the family to spare them the awful news.

For a story with almost no cultural staying power outside of the Victorian era, Varney sure did grandfather a lot of vampire tropes.

"You take nothing yourself?" said Henry.

"I am under a strict regimen," replied Varney. "The simplest diet alone does for me, and I have accustomed myself to long abstinence."

"He will not eat or drink," muttered Henry, abstractedly.

The narrative goes out of its way to single out wine as one of the provided refreshments, by the way.

Speaking of weird Dracula coincidences, if I had a nickel for every time a literary vampire had a distinctive forehead scar that was used to identify him, I'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice.

Varney continues to wind Henry up on purpose, this time with some creep remarks about his sister. I must assume the implication here is he wants to court her, presumably after the fashion of Lord Ruthven.

"How very unkind. I understand you have a charming sister, young, beautiful, and accomplished. Shall I confess, now, that I had hopes of making myself agreeable to her?"

"You make yourself agreeable to her? The sight of you would blast her for ever, and drive her to madness."

"Am I so hideous?"

"No, but—you are—"

"What am I?"

You can almost see him struggling to hold back a grin. Poor Henry is making this so easy for him.

By the time they leave, Henry is spiraling. The visit with Varney, having confirmed all his worst fears, has nearly broken him.

"He is a vampyre. There are such things. I cannot doubt now. Oh, God, I wish now that your lightnings would blast me, as here I stand, for over into annihilation, for I am going mad to be compelled to feel that such horrors can really have existence."

"Henry—Henry."

"Nay, talk not to me. What can I do? Shall I kill him? Is it not a sacred duty to destroy such a thing?"

Henry, as I said last chapter, doesn't really have the Jonathan Harker murderous determination in him, but he's certainly trying to work it up here. Marchdale, however, talks him down.

"I must destroy him."

"And wherefore?"

"Can you ask? Is he not a vampyre?"

"Yes; but reflect, Henry, for a moment upon the length to which you might carry out so dangerous an argument. It is said that vampyres are made by vampyres sucking the blood of those who, but for that circumstance, would have died and gone to decay in the tomb along with ordinary mortals; but that being so attacked during life by a vampyre, they themselves, after death, become such."

"Well—well, what is that to me?"

"Have you forgotten Flora?"

A cry of despair came from poor Henry's lips, and in a moment he seemed completely, mentally and physically, prostrated.

"God of Heaven!" he moaned, "I had forgotten her!"

"I thought you had."

Also on display here is Henry's almost comical lack of object permanence. You forgot her? Your entire sister? Henry.

Once again, Dracula presents a fascinating contrast. In Dracula, the threat of Mina turning is presented as a motivator to the characters to kill Dracula; here, the same threat to Flora serves the opposite. Van Helsing is adamant that killing the vampirized Lucy is an act of mercy; Marchdale here seems to imply the reverse is true.

From here, the conversation takes an odd turn.

"My dear friend, Henry Bannerworth, although I am not an old man, yet I am so much older than you that I have seen a great deal of the world, and am, perhaps, far better able to come to accurate judgments with regard to individuals."

"No doubt—no doubt; but yet—"

"Nay, hear me out. Such judgments, founded upon experience, when uttered have all the character of prophecy about them. I, therefore, now prophecy to you that Charles Holland will yet be so stung with horror at the circumstance of a vampyre visiting Flora, that he will never make her his wife."

This after Charles has already sworn, multiple times, that he will not leave Flora's side no matter what horrors she faces. Marchdale really seems to have it out for Charles.

"It has often been my misfortune through life," said Mr. Marchdale, sadly, "to give the greatest offence where I feel the truest friendship, because it is in such quarters that I am always tempted to speak too freely."

"Nay, no offence," said Henry. "I am distracted, and scarcely know what I say. Marchdale, I know you are my sincere friend—but, as I tell you, I am nearly mad."

It continues to sadden me how easily Henry falls for Marchdale's passive-aggressive behavior. He's being so manipulative, Henry! Don't listen to him!

After this, Marchdale counsels that Henry not tell the rest of the family his conviction that Varney is the vampire. Once again, lying to your loved ones is painted as Good Actually.

Henry resolves to kill Varney if he ever shows his face around them, and he and Marchdale bring up staking and fire as two methods of killing a vampire. Contrary to modern pop culture, where a wooden stake is a sort of vampire-killing magic bullet, the rationale for a stake killing a vampire is that it pins them to the earth, preventing them from rising - an explanation which, as I understand it, is much closer to original vampire folklore.

Next: A couple of new characters are introduced

[gellavonhamster]

Tagged by the lovely @mushiemellows to post four characters that make me say "my man, my man, my man." Hehe.

Quincey Morris. THE Gothic horror cowboy ever - not that there are too many Gothic horror cowboys, which must be because most filmmakers can't handle his sheer power and don't include him in the movie adaptations of Dracula (and the adaptations that do include him don't do him much justice, though they get a cookie from me for trying). Brave, compassionate, a "rough fellow" and a "gallant gentleman" at the same time. Tells a girl who rejected him he'll be okay with just remaining her friend and then actually proves himself a great friend, wow. Would totally die for his friends, would totally speak exaggerated Texan slang just to make Lucy smile. Super hot and ~manly~ according to Jack "Bisexual Disaster" Seward and pretty much everyone else. There's a post of mine gushing about him in the Dracula Daily book, which is a tiny bit embarrassing, because I've made plenty of much smarter posts about this novel, but you know what, that tracks.

2. Porthos from BBC's The Musketeers specifically. I'm kind of a fake Three Musketeers fan, because I've read the novels and enjoyed them a lot, but when it comes to the main characters, I highly prefer them in this historically inaccurate, book-inaccurate show. The original musketeers are much more complex as characters, but they're also quite shitty as people, and while I appreciate their complexity, their significantly-less-shitty working-class versions (or rather, three working-class ones and Athos the class traitor) are dearer to my heart. And Porthos, well, damn. BBC really knew what they were doing when they took Howard Charles - a very attractive man per se - and gave him leather clothes and those puffy shirts and a pirate-y bandana and an earring and a cool scar. Porthos is actually my favourite musketeer in the books as well, but the one from the show completely won my heart with his loyalty, kindness, and commitment to justice. And with being hella charming, too 👀

3. The currently inevitable One Piece part of the list! Look, I'm a simple woman, I'm not immune to gruff but secretly kind men who are built like a brick shithouse (and buy ice cream for random kids, and tell their corrupt superiors to eat shit). So I would let Smoker do unspeakable things to me. Who said that.

4. Caleb Brewster from Turn: Washington's Spies is one of those cases when I laid my eyes on a character and immediately thought "I guess this one's gonna be my favourite" and was absolutely right. To quote another character from the show, "he's unshaven, he's insane". Also loyal to a fault and extremely funny and reckless to the point of piloting an 18th century submarine. An absolute madlad. Every time there's some kind of a "who's hotter" poll in that fandom, I end up convinced that people understand nothing. But then again, most people probably were either Legolas girls or Aragorn girls, and I've been a Gimli girl since the age of nine.

Tagging @jennathearcher and @murphmurphthejerk - I know what one of the answers is going to be, but I'd like to hear the other three as well ;) As always, feel free to ignore if you don't want to answer, and so on, and so forth.

[1moreff-creator]

Brain go brr on the Q&A

+Xander trying to hide his piercing from his school is so him, I love it.

+Listen, I don't want to overthink the Q&A too much, but my brain won't let me be normal about some things. The birthday thing caught my eye. Supposedly, some of the dates are important, but the rest are meant to be spread out, right? But Veronika and David's birthdays are, like, two days apart, so does that mean they're important? Same with Ace and Arei (ike three days), but at least Ace's birthday is Halloween so it's not hard to figure out. I don't remember most of the other birthdays, so I don't know if there's more examples.

+Why is this the "new David"'s default sprite? Is he so smug it runs all the way to his default pose? What.

+David can cook, malewife status confirmed. Also, "how does he handle his feelings? Badly" That's hilarious.

+New info on the Spurlings! This is getting outta hand, now there's two of them! I'm really intrigued as to what the hell their deal is. And Duke could have been alive during the Tragedy? What are we implying here? So many questions!

+Ace is officially gay! Many people are happy with this development. Though I have to ask, did anyone ship him with any woman? Now that I think about it, I don't think I've ever seen that. Anyways, not like it matters now!

+Pan Veronika, pan Veronika, pan Veronika yes! I love it! New headcanon; she just dates/has sex with anyone she thinks will be entertaining to date/fuck. "Bit-sexual", as internet funnyman Alpharad would put it.

+I swear the David sexuality thing is an actual quote from somewhere. Hold on.

Found it! Not the exact wording, but Andrew Garfield said something like it once. I love it, it's perfect for David!

+So Charles' scar is a dog bite, but he doesn't remember and thinks it's a birthmark? Is it... related to his brother's death? Dev, what. You can't just say things like that and then not elaborate. /j

+Levi with a sweet tooth is fantastic. I think it was already implied in his profile, but it's still great!

+Alright, about favorite colors:

Teruko: red (reasoning: association)

So... Xander or Mai? I'm leaning towards Mai, frankly.

Charles: "Why would I assign emotional value to colors? That's a ridiculous waste of energy." (cerulean)

That quote is hilarious. And now I can't help but imagine Charles unironically writing "cerulean orbs" in a fanfic-

Whit: neon pink (reasoning: "Pink!!")

God, I love these characters.

J: black (reasoning: cool)

I wouldn't expect less.

Nico: none (reasoning: no interest)

I honestly kinda love this, but also what does it mean.

Ace: dark blue/purple (reasoning: refuses to provide reasoning)

Acevi shippers are eating today, holy.

Arei: azure (reasoning: "I'm blue, so clearly it's the best color!")

Why did you have to die?

Min: taupe (reasoning: comforting)

Min information: absorbed. Love it. Also her design has a lot of taupe (I think) so it's comforting to me too.

Veronika: white in conjunction with other colors (reasoning: brings out other colors well)

Huh.

Alright, now least favorite:

Whit: gray (reasoning: boring)

Alright, tone it down, Kamukura.

Rose: none (reasoning: all colors have their value in the right situations)

Fantastic, I adore this.

Eden: blue (reasoning: "Kind of a downer color...")

Areden shippers in shambles. How would you say this about your girlfriend's color, Eden?

J: pink (reasoning: obvious)

If you listen closely, you'll hear Whit's heart breaking in the distance. But this is expected.

Hu: blueish white (reasoning: sterile)

This is Arturo's fave. Are we setting up a foil thing here? I'd honestly love to see it, Arturo and Hu may be the characters I want to see the most of after maybe Veronika.

Nico: white (reasoning: unsettling)

Nico, what- what the hell are you talking about?

Ace: titian (reasoning: doesn't like himself)

Ouch.

Min: white and pink together (reasoning: annoying)

Dude, Whit cannot stop catching L's here, what is going on. Anyways, Min info absorbed.

Veronika: white in the absence of other colors (reasoning: soulless)

So, this is pretty interesting and all that... but she dislikes the same color as Nico? The Vero-Nico dynamic grows stronger! You love to see it. Or I love to see it, I adore them as friends/spiritual siblings.

+Ace has nine siblings?! That's a lot of kids!

+Nico cuts their own hair, and gets the cat ear things to stay up? Ultimate Hairdresser in the bulding!

+

Veronika's single green earring is a 'good luck charm' given to her by her dearest friend.

Aafgsj- Who?! Okay, first, I didn't even realize she had that, so thanks for pointing it out. Second, you can't just say that! Because you know I'm gonna assume that's Mai, especially with it being a 'good luck' charm when Mai is (kinda) the antithesis of Teruko and thus (kinda) the antithesis of bad luck. Am I to assume Veronika will be plot relevant now? Because I sure hope she is! I wasn't supposed to overthink the Q&A, dev, but look at what you're doing to me!

+Now the ice cream flavors:

Charles - coffee

This is actually stated in his profile. You gotta admire the consistency.

Hu - rose

Honey, wake up, a new random ship based on one (1) detail just dropped. It's a pretty cute one, too.

Nico - "the flavor" (doesn't elaborate further)

What is Nico doing in this Q&A? What am I supposed to gather from this?

Min - lemon

Min info drop spotted. I'm very normal about this character.

Xander - sauerkraut???

Xander, what the fuck are you talking about.

Veronika - funfetti

Honestly love this. White with other colors, right? It's perfect!

+Rose's painting preferences are cool to know, and she does give off a bit of middle child vibes, idk why. And two moms? Pog.

+That concept art! DRDT would have ended a lot earlier if Arei simply had a gun.

+Smells! (which of you people-)

Veronika - Womanly perfume (heavy)

I... was not expecting that! But it's Veronika info, so I absorb it. I kinda like the idea.

Nico - Cat

The more I learn about Nico, the more I love them.

Min - Lavender/eucalyptus/lemons/whatever essential oil she decided to use that day

W-Why does she use essential oils? I guess they must help her relax, because there's no way she actually believes they have any other benefit. Unexpected, but it's neat.

Whit - Fruity fun shampoo (for kids)

Yeah, yeah.

+Interesting that the Spurling Foundation and XF-Ture Tech don't have any connection, I guess that post I made on Min's secret is slightly outdated. Still, XF-Ture Tech "seems to do a lot of other things", huh? Peculiar.

I loved this Q&A, it was so much fun! I hope something like this is done again in the future, it's great.

[dcembervwrites]

Last year, I had said how I wanted to write about Solitaire and We Are the Ants back when I read the former for the first time. I had pondered on that post how both books could "share some of the same core messages," and while I think I was right, there was more than just that. For one, both happen to feature main characters with undiagnosed depression* and a supporting character who faces anger issues that will become very special to the main character as they care a lot about them. Also, both our main characters went through something very traumatic in their stories: Henry having to survive the aftermath of his boyfriend's death by suicide, and Tori going through the motions after what I'm assuming is Charlie's downward spiral with his eating disorder and self-harm. It really shines a light, in my opinion, that these types of situations not only affect those who go through it but those who surround them. Still, it's not like these novels shame those feelings. On the contrary, it illustrates the importance of surrounding ourselves with people who want to help us, people who know we deserve help, but most importantly choosing on our own accord that we deserve better as they keep on showing them that live is worth something. To quote the ending of Solitaire: "I don't know what's going to happen to us. I don't know how long I'm going to be like this. All I know is that I'm here. And I'm alive. And I'm not alone."

However, the way our characters deal with those feelings throughout most, if not the entire novel is really dark. There are two specific moments in each of their novels that to my personal opinion are the darkest. First, we have Tori breaking down when she tells Lucas the following:

Maybe, like, everyone I know has problems. Like, there are no happy people. Nothing works out. Even when it's someone who you think is perfect. Like my brother! ... one day he got so fed up with himself, he was like, he was so annoyed, he hated how much he loved food, yeah, so he thought it would be better if there wasn't any food. But that's so silly! Because you've got to eat food or you'll die, won't you? So my brother, Charles, Charlie, he, he thought it would be better if he just got it over with then and there! So he, last year, he—he hurt himself. And he wrote me this card afterwards, telling me he was really sorry and he didn't mean it to happen. But it did happen. And you know what just makes me want to die? The fact that, like, all that time, I knew it was coming, but I didn't do anything. I didn't even say anything to anyone about it, because I thought I'd been imagining it.

It hurts to read this, not only because she says this makes her want to die, but because she describes to us how she probably exaggerating all of this, that it wasn't that big of a deal, but we know that it was and it is a big deal. It makes me think of how much it hurts to take it upon yourself to pretend to be well, and the changes you might show in your personality will not be paid attention to either by friends or family when you're basically screaming inside. To me, this scene puts into perspective the way Tori behaved from the very beginning, very apathetic towards life; when something would be going well in her life, she would self-sabotage and kind of practically try to ruin her relationships around her, isolating herself.

Then there's Henry who I believe haw always dealt with feelings of worthlessness with his father walking out on them. Part of me thinks this because we gleam from all he tells of about Jesse that he put a lot of his self-worth on him so much that when Jesse's gone, it all comes back full force. His family is now deteriorating with his mother working herself to the ground, his grandmother having Alzheimer, his brother being a drop out who gets his girlfriend pregnant, and his best friend disappearing for months after Jesse's death by suicide. To me he is just afraid of opening up again and though the entire novel wonders whether the world is worth saving with the push of a button. When he finally reaches his breaking point, we get the following exhange:

"Henry." Mom's bottom lip trembled. "Do you wish you were dead?"

We slammed does in my family. We beat each other up and we asked questions we didn't want answers to and we wielded silence like a dagger. I wasn't sure how to respond to her blunt honesty except with honesty of my own. "I don’t want to die, but I don’t want to live, either. I don’t know why anyone would. This world is so fucked up, Mom, I think we’d all be better off if I didn’t press that button. Everything hurts so much. And I miss Jesse, and I tried to be okay. I thought Marcus could help me forget, and Diego could replace Jesse, but I miss him so much."

Mom was quiet for a long time. Her silence stretched across the morning and led me back through the part hundred days, and I knew what she was going to say before she finally said it. "I think you need help, Henry."

"I don't need help."

"Then answer me truthfully: Are you okay?"

... All I had to do was to tell my mom I was okay, and she'd believe me. ... All I had to do was say three little words, and I could fix all that I'd broken. But I was broken too, and I didn't know how to fix myself.

Going back to what I said earlier, it hurts to read moments like these and all that lead to them. All I'm seeing is two teenagers begging for help, and to see them thinking of their lives being worth so little just hurts. It makes me think of the fact that you wouldn't want to hear friends talking about themselves the way they're thinking. You would want them to know they're loved, cared for, and important. This is most likely the reason I adore Michael Holden and Diego Vega, both characters who also incidentally might be pansexual (add representation bonus as well as another similarity I should've referenced earlier). They come into the lives of the protagonists when they most need it. Both relationships are extremely different, though, as Diego and Henry are both romantically and sexually attracted to each other, whereas in my experience Michael and Tori seem more of a platonic relationship bordering into romantic, but they kind of take it upon themselves to try and be there for them.

Michael looks for Tori enough that there will be moments Tori looks for him, and while they have some fights and disagreements, they still find a way into each other's lives. While I've always loved the idea of having a Diego in my life, I do gravitate more towards the kind of relationship Tori and Michael could have (or the way I read it at least. I'm ace after all, and I can't help but wonder where their friendship will go forth, but I have my ideas). A scene that I feel encapsulate what they mean for each other is at the end when they have the following exchange, which has made me cry the two times I've read it:

"Do you want to kill yourself?" he asks, and the question sounds unreal because you never hear anyone asking that question in real life.

"I don't want you to do that," he says. "I can't let you do that. You can't leave me here alone."

His voice breaks.

"You need to be here," he says.

As for Diego, we get a bit more insight on his anger issues as that's the way he and his sister find themselves in Calypso, but from the moment he met Henry he is just such a sweetheart. He never judges him, tries to meet him where he is despite the struggles from Henry and his struggles, and even though there are times they think pursuing anything might not be such a great idea, they always find themselves pulled towards each other, which reminds me of when Henry thinks: "Sometimes ... I think gravity is love, which is why love's only demand is that we fall." Some of my favorite scenes are where Diego takes Henry stargazing, or when they have their first kiss. It's just so nicely written and it will always be the one relationship I will remember reading and thinking to myself maybe I did want one (though again, something more akin to romantic/platonic rather than romantic/sexual), but I digress.

Still, the thing that makes both Michael and Diego stand out so much is the fact of just how deeply they care about Tori and Henry, how they see them and hear them and understand them. It's just beautiful, and I wish I could feel this level of hope again one day. I mean, I remember my first ever quote-unquote review of We Are the Ants. I ended it with such a positive note, how I felt inspired but now, seven years later there isn’t much hope in my opinion. I'm still here, but there seems to be not much. I'm still hoping the fact that I wrote all of this means something. Maybe not me going back to writing about everything I read and watched but more that perhaps more fiction ideas will start to pour out of me. I'm no longer a young adult, and I'm thinking of a story of an asexual grown man, dealing with undiagnosed depression* back on his home town he left quite a few years ago. I guess all I can do is hope.

[lilliesthings]

*jumps into your inbox and rambles about Revelations and Tobias Hankel* I hope you don't mind, feel free to just ignore me, but I have to go somewhere with my feelings.m.

Now, I've noticed that we never see the Charles personality and the Raphael personality interacting, which is really a shame, because I think their dynamic might've been quite interesting as well. Especially as Gideon says that Raphael is like the mediator between the other two personalities, but in fact, we never see him mediating anything. I wonder if Charles would've listen to Raphael, because he's, you know, an angel and stuff, but at the same time, I can't imagine that man listening to anything and anyone other than himself.

Also, I saw you mentioned the heart-wrenching 'God gave him to me for a reason' quote, and I'd LOVE to hear what you interpret into that, and what you think Tobias really saw in Spencer.

... Anyways. Have a great day/night!

OoooOOOOh please jump into my inbox to talk about Revelations anytime oh anon I am getting down on one knee.

Putting the rest under read more just in case because I'm currently watching S2 with my dear friend and I've been so incredibly brave in not spoiling anything.

Yes yes! You're right, Raphael never mediated anything he was really doing his own thing. For me Tobias was the mediator, the one they listen to if he makes a strong enough case, which he never managed to do before Reid. In that corn field Charles wanted to kill Reid, but once they're in the cabin, I believe it's Tobias that convinced them not to, because Reid can 'see inside men's minds' and hopefully that's reason enough to make him useful in their eyes.

For how hopeless he seemed, Tobias tried to save Reid's life every step of the way and that kills me a little inside.

So I agree I don't think Charles would have listened to Raphael, by the end of Revelations, Raphael seems to be on Reid's side, or he truly believes Reid is on his side, having come back to life, having chosen which member of his team to die ("who do you serve" "i serve you") This doesn't change anything for Charles.

Oh man. 'God gave him to me for a reason' and what did he see in Spencer, this question keeps me up at night dhnsbsbd. Like, at first he wouldn't kill him because he saw him as truly innocent but at some point this belief evolved into hope and I think part of Tobias believed Reid was the one who would save him, free him from his father, which ends up somehow? Happening in the most heartbreaking way? And Raphael called that damn bullet 'God's will'

Or maybe he saw himself in Reid and that's why he helped him escape the pain the same way he himself did. And his last words 'will I get to see my mom again' was probably something Spencer thought to himself several times during these two days.

Revelations makes me want to launch myself into the sun.

[nickfowlerrr]

working on it

main masterlist

this is a list of all my wips (including requests) so we can all be on the same page in regards to what i have coming up 🖤

*these aren’t in any particular order - as you guys know, i write what i have inspiration to write and not in order of when requests were received or series were updated.* if you don't see your request on here, and did not get a response from me letting you know i'd be unable to write it, then i didn't receive it. feel free to send it in again if you'd like.

i saw @sweetpeapod’s “to do list” and it’s such a great idea i literally never would’ve thought to make one myself so all credit to her for this! 🥰

updated: 06/06/23

legend: actively writing • on hold/writer’s block • haven’t started

series

bucky barnes:

if i could - chapter five

keeping secrets - chapter seven

stucky:

trust me - chapter two

drabbles, one shots or continuations (not series)

andy barber:

waiting - pt 2

dark!professor andy

bucky barnes:

soft!dark bucky - basement wife

dark!brat tamer bucky

you can’t - pt 2

dark!ex bucky - pregnant reader (might not end up dark lolll)

when a stranger calls bucky

yandere mechanic bucky

“enemies” to lovers bucky

iou - pt 2…possible miniseries

enemies to lovers - one bed trope

die happy - chubby!reader

first time for everything - drabble

call it what you want to - pt 2

mean!bucky one shot

duke!bucky x duchess!reader (soft!dark?)

pro wrestler!bucky

charles blackwood:

dark!charles halloween fic

lee bodecker:

dark!lee - traveling!reader

dark!lee - salem witch trial

lloyd hansen:

-

ransom drysdale:

delivery - one shot

mean!ransom one shot

nick fowler:

dark!nick - daddy’s dead - one shot

steve kemp:

-

steve rogers:

mean!steve one shot

stucky:

dark! road trip fic (two stories in one/choose your own adventure)

royalty au

fumbling - drabble

fawn - pt 2

requests

humble request to the queen of my lil dark heart for your sluttiest a/b/o with your man of choice inspired by ‘hurt you’ by the weeknd 🖤

bucky barnes:

request/imagine: mafia bucky x reader where bucky is very obviously obsessed/infatuated with the reader and just wants her to be his but she plays hard to get (for some time) and starts hanging out with other men so he gets jealous and punishes her (smut if you want with degradation/humiliation kink idk💀) very new to tumblr so idk if im doing this right or not. thank you! 💘

Dearie write some angry seggs with Bucky barnes

Scenario 5 10 17 22 please & Dialogue prompts 32 and 38 please with bucky 😭 he’s a total grinch throughout but seeing the reader happy makes him happy and I love the grumpy x sunshine trope🤤😮‍💨

Hey yo! I'm not sure if you're still accepting Christmas prompts or anything (I've absolutely loved reading them) But I've been listening to this song on repeat and idk, I can just imagine the reader singing it to Buck on their first christmas together, and him falling even more in love with them. Anywho, happy holidays, can't wait to read anything and everything you bless us all with 🥰❤️🎄

What would have happened in a AU version of your dark biker Bucky finding his soulmate finally…and also meeting her husband?

What if the reader had a really toxic husband who wouldn’t let her go or let their divorce proceed unless she cheated on him? Only the man she picks for her affair, Bucky Barnes, is WAY worse than her husband and she doesn’t realize until it’s too late? (No idea though if this is like a mobster Bucky or Winter Solider or some other profession)

a bucky fic of any length based on this text exchange with my husband (who’s deployed) ((i’m the red bubble lol)) 🥹 you work is magic so i trust however you wanna take this

Bellllaaaaa hiiii:) I’m hooked on biker/bartender bucky(even tattoo artist bucky) with fucking Tats right now and I’d totally love if you could maybe write him and chubby/plus sized reader having a flirty relationship, maybe they’re like a fling or something. She works at his bar/tattoo shop, whichever au you pick, and they’re just fucking flirty and so naughty together lol. Smut is always welcomed!! Thank u bby in advance<3 mwahhh🥺💋

Was curious if you could do a TFAWS Bucky request? Reader is a curvy plus size gal, and Sam has been trying and trying to get Bucky to ask her out. Then one day, he finds her really upset and self conscious… He finally lets his true feelings show, trying to make her feel better… maybe it turns into more? 👀🥰 Like…. ‘Let me just show you how beautiful you are..’ kinda thing lol. I really hope that made sense ☠️☠️

charles blackwood:

Hello there I want to ask... Do you still write Charles blackwood x reader fanfic? It has to be very romantic but very naughty. Charles being very sexy and dominating. It is also the reader's very first time with him too. Can it include a photo of Charles as well? Thanks x

max burnett:

Hi can I request a max Burnett x plus!size reader.

nick fowler:

Okay, speaking of thots, having the Nick Fowler says something sexy in Romanian and leaves gifs back-to-back with the 'no, I'm not okay; I should be sucking his dick rn" thot was— 🥵 Think you could combine those two into a little (or big, would not complain 😉) something something? 😘🤍 👉🏻👈🏻

I’m reading a book about the history evolution of dating, and it has this section on sugar daddies and babies. Apparently a lot of sugar babies are warned not to fall for their daddies, but the women report that usually it’s the other way around and the men fall for them. So what about a soft dark mafia Nick who quickly gets obsessed with his sugar baby reader? He just get more intense the more she denies an emotion connection because it’s just bad business on her end.

pwyc! bucky:

Hi I loved your Pretty when you cry series read it twice already and you did a amazing job 🥰 I was wondering if you could write the reader from that series being catcalled by some creep and dark biker Bucky witnesses it and completely losing it and defending her and maybe it ends with some fluff I hope you have a lovely day or night ❤️

OK maybe After Reading your Dark Soulmate Story I want/need more 😁 So I was thinking about Bucky and the Curvy Reader. Was there ever a time when Bucky Breaks down and cry? Like, He is so Hurt that he is Not Angry but gets really sad? How would the Reader react? How would Bucky himself react? Thanks again For creating These two and thank you For your time🖤 i Love them.

Hi Bella! So you’re my fav tumblr writer and I’m never gonna get over pwyc cause it’s pretty fucking amazing, and I don’t know if you’re taking requests for drabbles or anything like that, but I thought I might as well ask! So imagine that Bucky and Y/N have been living together for a while and things have been great, but Bucky is thinking of proposing, but Y/N is so not ready to get married or have kids, and her and Bucky get into a huge fight over it, and maybe she briefly moves out, and Bucky is basically lost but like also super angry cause we all know he doesn’t take rejection too well, but in the end they make up and by that I mean smut, and you can decide if they get engaged or not, but yeah that’s basically it

Hi! I love pwyc so much then when i saw the new trust series was from you I did a little happy dance! I was wondering if i could request a little drabble of what would happen if reader found out she was pregant and how biker Bucky would react? If not no pressure honestly love all your fics thanks for sharing them with us!

Belllllllaaaaa I have a request to make for pwyc series💕❤️ Imagine bucky getting possessive and jealous of readers coworkers, the reader trying to escape when he thought they were finally getting somewhere in their relationship…..😬😬 would he be angry or upset just love feral bucky 🫣😭🥵

Pwyc reader having nightmare about that night Bucky raped her. While dark!pwyc Bucky is sleeping right next to her. So reader started crying in her sleep,tears and all (cause that's what she does best) from the nightmare with him in it and woke Bucky up. Bucky can tell what it was about and started to soothe her nightmares the only way his perverted ass knows how. He started nuzzling and kissing her neck all over and kiss all her all over her face including her lips,eyes and her tears away while his hands roam all over her body to wake her up. Reader woke up still crying and Bucky ended up giving her the most gentlest (?),angsty or passionate sex? Idk,it doesn't have to be gentle. Just like really angsty and passionate in a really pwyc dark!Bucky way to show reader he's her only choice no matter what so she just gonna learn how to love him and get over her fear and nigthmare with the fear and nightmare himself. And maybe some angsty stomach flipping aftercare afterwards. Dark! request ofc. This can be during pwyc or after pywc,it's up to you. Reader being a crybaby makes this fic special to me :,D Been looking for a pic like this. Thank you so much and sorry if my English sucks a lil. I try. Tysm again 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

Hiii Bella!! I love your writing so much, you're very talented 😍 I found the pwyc series about three days ago and I've read it twice 😅 I wasn't that productive at work ig 🤣 as a curvy girl myself who falls very close into the description of the reader/soulmate who loves Bucky, I felt very satisfied. So... I'm rubbish at requests but I thought I would like to ask for something and it's nice that you're kind and understanding so I don't feel too anxious about doing so 👀 so... what about reader going out shopping a dress for an occasion (idk what exactly, something formal-ish ig... a birthday party/dinner maybe?) and the shop assistants make her feel bad by saying things like "we don't have clothes in that big of a size, miss" or "this doesn't suit your fat thighs/stomach" (this has happened a lot to me, unfortunately)? And she gets home sad and spends all week self-loathing and insecure, wearing very baggy clothes and starving herself and pwyc bucky doesn't exactly get what's going on because she doesn't want to discuss it but he feels how down she feels and worries. Then he hears her explaining the experience to eva and he becomes a man on a mission. He has one thing in mind; to shower her with compliments, sweet nothings and have beautiful, passionate and rough sex with her 😏 (and also decides to punch whoever said sh*t about his girl). Thank youuu 💜💜 P.S. Sorry if this was too long☺️

hiii so i just thought of pwyc fluff (bc i love two hopeless romantics) so uhhh what if reader gives bucky a pet name? calls him "love" in front of his friends and bucky just melts and swoons

I just want pwyc reader and bucky to have kids 🫣😬😂 it would be so unexpected and I’m sure bucky would be super excited even if the news comes out of the blue 🥺🥺💕💕 it would be so funny though 😂😂

Just finished your dark soulmate Bucky fic-absolutely loved it, stayed up WAY too late reading it because I couldn’t stop. I was wondering if kids are ever discussed between them? I feel like no for both of them because Bucky seems too greedy to share the reader/lose time with her and I don’t know if the reader would really want babies with him after their start, even if she’s forgiven him. But I do wonder what would happen to Bucky’s mindset-does having a daughter make him realize any new aspects of what he did? Does a son make him worry about raising a man who could do what Bucky did to his own soulmate?

I have a pwyc prompt! Reader borrows Bucky’s beloved car as hers is in his shop. He tells her to be careful as it’s his baby. She misjudges a turn and wrecks it, only gets minor cuts/bruises but goes hospital to get checked out in case concussion. She doesn’t want to see bucky - freaking out about seeing him and admitting she crashed his baby but of course his main worries lie with someone else’s welfare!

what if reader wasn't bucky's soulmate but he wants her anyway. (long request)

Sorry in advance if this is too indulgent even for fanfic, but would you be interested in a prompt where pwyc Bucky is thrilled that the reader is gaining weight? Either because he takes it as a sign that she’s happy so she eating more, they’re going out on fun dates and have delicious things to eat or they’re spending too much time together for her to work out, etc etc. but he’s super into it. And loves to show it, especially during moments when she’s upset about it? So it’s something positive instead of negative.

Hi Bella. Love your work and love that you write curvy/plus size reader as I’m a curvier girl myself. I was wondering if you could write a Drabble/fic with pwyc bucky worshipping/praising reader’s bigger body - maybe she’s having a bad self image day or similar and he kisses all of her curves and lumps/bumps because he genuinely adores her figure and also is very much turned on by her even if she sometimes worries his muscular frame would be better suited to smaller partners as he’s so in shape.

This but she hurts herself bad?🤔🥺

“You come across any other kinks you wanna try, you just let me know. You know I’ll do anything for you, pretty girl.” Hmm how about breeding kink combined with marking kink. I believe the possessive side of Bucky here would absolutely eat this up and be feral. Would love to see your take on this, but if you don’t want, that’s okay! Thank youuu! 🫶🏻

Hi Bella! I have an idea for a PWYC Drabble please don’t feel obligated to respond or make it. So today I was walking and some total jerks yelled out the window calling me fat. I wonder how Bucky would either comfort reader or handle it. I know you have something similar with your knight drabble. Thank you for all of the incredible work you’ve given us, this is my favorite series of all time— you’re a great writer. ♥️🥹

Hi! I’m a huge fan of PWYC and I was wondering if you thought about doing a pregnancy one shot, or multiple shots related to Bucky and reader starting a family? I’m curious how the dynamic would be considering how Bucky already acts towards reader and how he tends to be very loving but also on consistent watch over reader. If you don’t like the idea or aren’t interested that’s totally okay too!

steve rogers:

I would love to see a stalker Steve Rogers who thinks he’s “courting” you when he buys you presents off your (private) wishlists, takes care of chores around the house when you’re sleeping or away, has lunch delivered to your workplace for you, etc. (sure it’s scary and weird all these things are happening to you, but I would also like to come home to packages on my porch and my lawn mowed, you know?)

[eirianerisdar]

(!) anon here. now that I have calmed somewhat (but not really because I’m not normal about Icarus) First of all, I want to say that I love this fic very much and it has made me tear up, scream, sob, laugh and just feel very much. It absolutely lives rent free in my mind. I’m amazed and I want to thank you (and your twin) for this amazing work. I’m sort of afraid to re-read it because the emotional damage, but at the same time… it’s so, so good. So yeah, thank you both.

I really like the voice of the characters and the cadence of your writing. I get this feeling of watching a slow-motion crash, and how I want to scream. Also, it’s very human, messy, and visceral. And I have feelings. Charles and Carlos? I’m dying for the outtake. Jenson? Like, before of this fic I didn’t knew much (I don’t watch Sky. I’m form Latin América, and I watch the regional broadcast form) but now I will die for him. Lando becoming flock with Daniel (and I imagine that it may be out of the scope of this fic but I worry/wonder about Lando and Oscar for 2023 season). Yuki? Pierre? Love them so very much.   

It’s amazing how you blend like these media/social media bits that gives the story… this sort of flavour. Makes it a fuller. One of my favourite parts of this is the thing with Seb colleting Daniel’s feathers and how a photo of a fan passing a feather becomes photo of the year. Made me cry a little, and it makes the world seem more real. Also, I really, really love the lore/word building around the wings and how everything works. The subtle changes to accommodate feathers, flight, and flock, amazing. I wanted to ask, what type of wings would you have? The same as your twin?

And yeah. Just. I have feelings.

eMOtionAL DAMage

No but seriously thank you so much! The recent comments and feedback I've been getting for Icarus have been amazing, especially in the past few chapters.

I started out planning this fic mostly around Maxiel but the more I fleshed out the plot the more I realised I had to include most of the grid. Charlos have such a huge role to play and though a lot of it is covered in the outtakes, we'll see development and resolution of their subplot in the upcoming latter stages of the main story too.

Jenson is basically the darling of the older grid (he's flock with so many of them) and I am literally vibrating in excitement thinking about finally addressing the Princess Cake/brocedes/slagclaren (I still can't believe that's the phrase for Lewis and Jenson) mess that we saw a few chapters earlier.

And Lando and Oscar will feature a little bit, towards the end of the fic. I have a specific scene planned out that makes me snort whenever I think of it.

Thank so so much for your lovely comment <3 Readers like you make writing so worth it xoxo

Edit: Forgot to mention I'd probably have oriental magpie-robin wings! Waffles hasn't chosen her wings yet, so I unfortunately don't know what wings she would have.

[sushisocks]

so this is like two asks ig? but what is ur most unique sean headcanon, and what is ur sean headcanon that you will defend with your life (i really love ur headcanons lol)

OOOHHHHH ANON!!!!!! we're in it now lmfaoo THANK YOU first of all I'm honestly so glad people enjoy my headcanons/rants about these characters!! RDR2 is my first time really foray-ing into fandom space like this (previously having kept my writing & thoughts to closed circles of friends lol), and the reception here has overall been a lot more than I ever expected!! Especially since I've really picked my faves &lt;;- said while sideeyeing the 28 works in the macsummers tag on AO3.

ANYWAY these are some insanely good questions, anon, and I've been thinking about them ALL DAY, so I'll do my very best to answer you here in a way which does these questions justice.

It's hard for me to know which one of my Sean HCs is the most unique, as I have a LOT of HCs, and I've been posting a LOT of them over the course of the past few months. I've been told (as a compliment!!) that my overall take on him & the connections I make regarding him is unique, which I obviously am very flattered by! But I also don't think it's too hard to be unique when you're thinking & talking about a character who generally isn't given the same amount of genuine consideration and meta as other characters from the same franchise. Like, I could be talking at length about Arthur, or Charles, or John (and I HAVE!!! Not on tumblr, but still, I love those characters too!!) but my takes would probably not generate the same kind of attention by virtue of those characters being talked about a lot by a lot of other people too!! My posts about Sean stick out because there's not a whole lot of other people writing posts about Sean in the meta/HC style I do!

(Sidenote, while I don't fault the RDR2 fandom for not giving Sean his dues - he is a side character who dies very early on, and who is easy to stereotype, after all - I AM very glad and grateful that the stuff I've said & shared seems to have impacted some people's understandings of him, at least in the circles I run in. As of late I've been seeing a lot more thoughtful takes on him, reflecting how he has the capability of being just as nuanced as several of the other characters in the game. Maybe that's because I'm right in the middle of it though; most RDR2 circles I'm in KNOW me as the Sean stan, and engage with my takes on him, after all!!)

So like, is my most unique Sean headcanon among the ones that reflect canon & actually took off, impacting some people's view of him - like how he DOES mirror a younger Arthur, and how he fulfills a role in the gang, and how his death is necessary to set the tone for the rest of the game? Or is my most unique headcanon him being a gnc bi poly king in the messiest possible queerplatonic triad with Karen and Lenny? Is it that I think he prefers licorice to chocolate? That I think his favorite color is burgundy(not that he'd call it that)? I don't know! I both have so many HCs that picking one is extremely hard for my Libra-ass-self, and I don't have many others writing similar stuff to compare myself with, at all! I'd love to hear from others, though, if anyone else who's been reading my Sean posts have any takes regarding what of my stuff has stuck with them!!!

OKAY sorry for the rant mkjhbjj It's probably not what you were looking for asking me that but it's something that's on my mind, given that I think a fair amount of the uptick in my following over the past few months, if not from AO3, is very much from my RDR2 meta posts - which are in majority about Sean.

ANYYYWAYYY as for a Sean HC I will defend with my life - DEFINITELY the Sean learning disabilities ones - he is INCREDIBLY ADHD & dyslexia coded to me, it MASSIVELY influences how I write him in my fics, and I don't think anyone will ever argue me away from that one. Also, Sean siding with Arthur & John in the end, IS a hill I will die on - to the point that I've written several posts about/referring to it mjnhbnjbh Honestly though, I am a petty bitch who will die on most hills available to me, and I'm not afraid of confrontation, so I am a little bit of a menace when it comes to my Sean HCs and defending them lolol I'm overall very pleased they've gone over well with the rest of the Sean stan community here on tumblr though!! Yall are the best fr <3<3<3