#this ain't sitting right with me

[mooncrvmbs]

so you mean to tell me that one of my favorite fucking character in the book died and dain aetos is still alive and breathing?????

[glitch-pep]

Milo Intro

[Character info is under the cut.]

Milo is a character that would've been in Making Fiends ever since the web series. He'd also be present from Season 1 of the Nickelodeon show and onwards.

Milo is one of Clamburgs unfortunate residents, and also Maggie's brother.

Maggie and Milo have the same, depressing world view, but they choose to cope with it differently. While Maggie does it through writing poetry, Milo does it with a different form of writing.

Jokes! Writing jokes, to be specific.

Before Vendetta took over Clamburg, he had the dream to become a comedian. But due to the strict rules that Vendetta implemented, he's unable to make jokes.

Why? Because they make people laugh.

And Vendetta hates any form of happiness that isn't her own.

So, now he only makes jokes that are more depressing/concerning than funny, so that they make no one laugh.

That would also be his main role in the show:

Saying dark humor one liners that flew over the heads of the little kids that were watching.

He's making the most out of what he can have.

...even if it has 20 layers of sarcasm coated around it.

He's pretty much just in a bad/tired mood in general, and always pessimistic, ready to point out the downside of any situation whether it's necessary or not. His comments tend to drain people, and they make them question things too much for their own good. Even when he may not mean any harm, he's always got this intimidating and strict aura around him that causes most people to dislike him, but they still take him seriously.

One gag regarding his character is that he's surprisingly lucky. Vendetta's attacks usually miss him, no matter how precise she may have initiated them. Thing is, at this point he doesn't care anymore. He'd usually just sit completely still as something flies by him at max speed, his only reaction being to take another sip of his coffee.

On the subject of coffee, he's a coffee addict. Most of his scenes include him with a cup of it, sometimes he pulls it out of thin air, which is another gag.

While his role in Season 1 and in a hypothetical Season 2 isn't very prominent, that'll change in hypothetical Seasons 3 and 4, since his role would change from background character to antagonist.

Here's the transparent versions of the drawings:

[darkgamer-900]

POV: MHA characters being goofy dumbasses for no reason

[thebirdandhersong]

on the good news train today: I have finally finished the last chapter(!!!) of my Inklings challenge story, which marks the FIRST ever Inklings challenge story I've ever completed properly :'D coming in at 30,810 words (yikes) (it did get out of hand, I must admit), it is definitely not a short story, but it IS a piece that I think articulates a lot of what I've been thinking about lately re: love and death, and, considering everything, is probably something I needed to write. I am very happy!! It has been a wild ride, but a deeply clarifying one.

[cyarskj1899]

This is black ppl for the next four years especially black women. Living our lives as the world burns from their own ignorance and bad choices

This is literally the mood of Every Black Woman, who voted for VP Harris including me, 20 Jan 2025-20 Jan 2029. We did our part, and our Jewish friends, our LGBTQ friends, Latina women & AAPI allies.

It’s “Get Somebody Else To Do It” season!

We tried… Now they finna FAFO

If you don’t understand, your apart of the somebody else

as for bw we’re Watching the World burn & sipping our drank!!!

[nobodybetterlookatme]

Once again, my favorite part of my job is pissing off my medic and ruining their day lmao

[kaerinio]

god, imagine being a bard at court . . . and rhaegar walks into the room??

[lepetitmonstre]

Finished The Left Hand of Darkness and oh my God Ursela why did you do this to me

[transgender-catboy]

I'M BACK, LOOK AT THIS MAN!!!!

[witchwretch]

i don’t know how to write neurotypicals

[nartml]

Censorship is a very slippery slope.

Now, I know someone else re-blogged this and explained to you that if we start censoring one thing, it will inevitably escalate to censoring more, especially because ao3 is home to very controversial content.

And I'm not referring to the objectively fucked up stuff.

I'm referring to the decent 90% of the entire site, that is gayer than a treeful of monkeys on nitrous oxide. In a devastating chunk of the population's eyes, homosexuality is immoral, wrong and inherently fucked up.

Everyone's standards for "so fucked up it should be banned" are, more or less, different. So if we censor one thing, someone else will point out something that they vehemently disagree with and demand it gets the boot as well.

Those demands will either come to pass, or become at best, a constant pain in the ass, and at worst, genuine harassment.

Censorship will be detrimental to this site.

But, I'll let you in on something you might not know: Using the power of critical thinking, you can make the conscious decision not to read things that make you uncomfortable!!

See, there's this magical tool called a filter, and with it, you can easily exclude all the neatly organized tags you never want to come into contact with! It's actually the defining characteristic of ao3!

We're all used to being spoonfed content specifically tailored to us via impressively coded algorithms, but I pinky swear on my mama, it's pretty easy to get the hang of it!

At least in this way, you can leave the weirdos to their own devices whilst you 'consume' only the art that you deem acceptable.

No harm, no foul.

Hope this helps!

"Why can't the freaks on AO3 just go and make a site for all the gross stuff and leave AO3 alone."

Because AO3 is that site. Because AO3 was that site long before you decided AO3 was better than the sites you bullied us off of before, and I can promise you if someone somehow comes up with a fanfic site you like better specifically for the 'gross stuff' you'll try to bully us off that too so you can benefit from it.

AO3's specific core purpose is to preserve fanfiction, yes, but it was also instigated as a host site for the fanfiction that kept getting yeeted off other platforms like Wattpad. Its designed to preserve all fanfiction, not just the fanfiction you, personally, think is 'allowed' to be written.

AO3 is the site for all the gross stuff the freaks make. We've been there just as long as you. We've been funding it just as long as you have. AO3 has specifically said you have a place here. The timeline was literally:

Wattpad/FF.net/LiveJournal purge fanfics > AO3 is born > The people who's fics got purged moved over to AO3 > AO3 gains popularity as the best functioning site > The people who pushed for the fics to be purged off Wattpad move to AO3 > The same people try to push for AO3 to purge fics.

AO3's source coding is open-access. You go make a polished, strict, rigid site where nothing 'icky' is allowed. You go make a site where you can control what is hosted. We already have our space.

[medicinemane]

.

[starsasunder]

i love you. thorns and all.

PROMPTS FROM A COURT OF THORNS AND ROSES

Aoife panted as they thrashed in the grip of the fae above them, a whirlwind of fangs and claws as they tried and failed to escape Samhradh's grip. They weren't thinking rationally, rage and hurt reducing their mind to instinct alone. "She... She turned them against me!" they hissed, claws digging into the frost-hardened earth beneath them as they threw their head back against the ground hard enough to make their ears ring."'I'll kill her! You cannot deny me this!"

They wanted to. In that moment, they wanted it more than anything. Their sister - the changeling who had stolen their family - had bargained away their freedom for her own, like they were nothing. Their family had not even recognized them. They were oblivious to the fact that the changeling was not their child, happy to accept the glamour that had been placed over their minds. Aoife had been dismayed to learn of the spell their sister had laid upon them, but had not let it deter them. While it was bittersweet that their parents might never know them as their child, they rationalized that they could still get to know their parents.

But that was before their sister had caught wind of their visit. She had filled their parents' minds with hate and their cottage with iron, making sure Aoife could never, ever come back. Their sister had taken their freedom without even bothering to learn their name. 'Revenge must be had,' their blood sang. 'For every price paid, an equal reward. But where is ours? Is it our lot to be outcast no matter where we go?'

The faeries did not want them. The humans apparently didn't either. Their sister had traded their freedom like it was nothing, thinking only of herself. Aoife could not cope with the anguish, so they turned it into rage. Their fury blinded them, making them momentarily forget the love they'd been shown by wolf and mage alike. Years of loneliness rose up within them, exacerbated by long, knowing stares and snickers behind clawed hands.

They wouldn't stand for it. They couldn't. Aoife was beyond rational thought. They would transform into a creature big enough to hold all their anger and betrayal and hurt, and they'd ransack that stupid cottage and show them all what fear really was. When they'd finished grinding their infuriating sister's bones into dust, maybe then this bubbling, burning hurt inside them would simmer down and abate.

They snarled, trying to shift once more, letting that raging thing beneath their skin loose. But their power was beyond them, denied by the heavy tang of the Summer King's magic as it wrapped around them and kept them pinned beneath strong arms and an even, calm lavender gaze. They thrashed again, harder, legs kicking and arms yanking at Samhradh's grip, but the King was immovable. Aoife didn't stand a chance against that kind of power, and that just pissed them off more. They slammed their magic against Samhradh's, but the king's power was impenetrable. Aoife's magic slammed into theirs and sputtered, like a candle snuffed out.

Their blood boiled. "Let me go!" they commanded, baring their teeth at their mate king. "You are not my keeper! If they want to treat me like some kind of monster, I'll show them what a monster is!" Another thrash, as useless as the last. Samhradh's eyes gleamed as they bared their teeth at Aoife and snarled. Though the king was in their fae form, the sound carried the same timbre as it did in their lupine one. Aoife swallowed tightly, their rage stuttering as a new emotion overtook them: fear. The king had rarely had reason to display their power when it came to the little hulder, but Aoife was well-aware of what they were capable of. Samhradh would not hurt them, they knew this, but what they didn't know was what Samhradh intended to do next.

Thinking the king would return their fury with a display of equal strength, they were taken by surprise when Samhradh's eyes gleamed not with anger, but admiration and... arousal? Samhradh lowered their head, nuzzling against Aoife's throat softly before opening their mouth to graze the changeling's skin with their fangs. Aoife's breaths stuttered immediately, eyes widening. It hurt, but only just enough to serve as a warning. And it worked. The changeling stilled beneath them, the message clear: 'Cease.'

"Your fury is not unwarranted, little cat," Samhradh rumbled down their bond, their voice poking at the shields around Aoife's mind as they lazily laved their tongue across the mark they had just left. Aoife whimpered quietly, their attention wavering between the rage boiling beneath their skin and the new heat Samhradh was quickly kindling between their thighs. They tried to shove back at them mentally, but it was too late.

The king was determined to keep them distracted. Before Aoife could process this new development, Samhradh shifted atop them, slipping a thigh between theirs and pressing it against the core of them. Aoife's breath hitched as their teeth grazed against their throat once more, biting down just enough to leave a mark. Aoife shuddered, anger swept aside by desire as they fell for Samhradh's distraction hook, line, and sinker.

"As much as I admire your resolve, I am afraid I cannot let you act on it. You will regret the bloodshed you intend to seek come the morrow. Remember: the humans' opinions matter little, my darling," Samhradh purred, pleased amusement coloring their voice as they finally swept past Aoife's mental shields entirely. "They do not recognize your strengths as I do... But that's alright. I would rather keep you to myself." Another stroke of their tongue, drawing Aoife's breath out in a shuddering, staccato beat. Samhradh hummed as they settled their soul against Aoife's own, their weight pinning the small changeling beneath them now without the help of their magic. "My lovely little winter rose... Do not ever forget that no matter what anyone may say, I love you - thorns and all."

[storm-and-starlight]

god I haven't had an executive dysfunction moment quite this bad in a looooong time

[delicate44]

I'm lol'ing at this hysteria surrounding Catherine. She posts a photo - you want proof of life. She comes out - you say that's not her. She carries a bag to prove she's fine - you ask why her husband's not carrying it. If her husband did carry it - you'd ask if she's still that sick. There's no winning here is there? Far from a BRF fan but dear lord what are you doing this to woman!

[awxcoffeexno]

ain't gon' ever deserve you

mutant!loganhowlett x human!reader one shot

fic masterlist | nsfw claw worship

summary: logan has a nightmare and hurts you by accident - or - the one where you worship his claws the way they deserve.

content: mostly family-friendly claw worship. logan believes in the animal accusations but reader fixes it. reader is human, logan and reader have an established and v loving relationship, lots of reassurance and comforting for logan.

warnings: logan has nightmares, mentions of blood, logan self-hate, family-friendly knife play??????.

word count: 2.1k

a/n: listen, claw worship has been on my mind for a looooooong time. I'm too chicken to put up any of my nsfw writing yet so here's an sfw version with affirmations for poor baby lo-lo. also this is super inspired by logan and kayla's relationship and even uses some quotes from them.

you're deep asleep, dreaming of everything and nothing when you feel the sudden sharp sting in your arm.

eyes flying open, you open your mouth to hiss in pain but logan's lips are at your ear, snarling and grunting in his sleep again.

you look down to find his claws out, the metal tips digging into your arm. you exhale sharply, watching the warm blood seep down your arm and onto the new white sheets.

"no! n– no!" he growls, and you're forced to bite your lip as you try to pull away from his vice grip. when that doesn't work, you sink your nails into his arm.

"logan–"

"victor, NO!" he screams and sits up, yanking his claws from your arm and stabbing at the air in front of him.

victor creed. logan's brother and the bane of his existence. victor who haunts his dreams every single night, victor whose name you can never forget, victor who is now the reason logan's hurt you.

you sit up with him, aching for him, wrapping your arms around his torso. the burning pain in your arm an afterthought, you hear him swallow and gently let out a breath. he's sticky with sweat and the dry radiator air in the room isn't helping, the moon glowing through your glass walls, creating a halo around his head.

"nightmare." you state, letting him catch his breath and take in his surroundings.

he nods even though what you said wasn't a question but a statement. he twists around and pulls you into his lap, hugging you like he does near every night – chin tucked into your shoulder, arms wrapped all the way around your torso. he smells of soap and cigar smoke and the faintest hint of your shampoo. you smile to yourself and press a kiss to his hair.

"you're so cute." you mutter and a small smile spreads across his lips.

"cute?" he repeats, amused. "that's new." he pulls you closer, further down his lap and you can feel his heartbeat start to steady again.

"you used my shampoo again, and don't you deny it this time."

he scowls at you but lets you kiss him anyway. "reminds me of you," he sighs when he realises you won't stop until he admits it.

"but i'm right here," you giggle, running your thumb over the shell of his ear.

he opens his mouth to explain further but that's when he smells it. the blood he's drawn from your arm in his nightmare-fuelled anger at victor. his jaw tightens as he looks for the source of blood, finding three uniform slices on the outside of your forearm.

"no," he gasps, a thousand emotions crossing his eyes.

you try to wiggle your arm out of his grip, the blood running down your arm now. "hey... i'm okay."

"like fuck you are," he snarls, angry at himself.

how could he have possibly hurt you?! was this a thing now?? was he a danger to you even in his sleep?! god, he'll have to put you to sleep and then figure out a way to declaw himself. maybe if he just slices the back of his palms open–

"james..." you break him out of his thoughts, hand on his cheek. "baby, i'm okay. really. it looks worse than it feels."

"i'm going to rip these out." he whispers, holding his fists up, the back of his palms facing you. his words are as much a promise to you as a command to himself.

you grab his fists and glare at him. he blinks at your expression, looking at you over his hands.

"don't you dare say anything of the sort. these are a gift."

"a gift," he scoffs, "you can return a gift."

"these are a gift," you repeat sternly. "and i will not let you do anything to them."

he opens his mouth to protest but you aren't done. how dare he even think of hurting himself, of declawing himself when you love his claws as much as you love every last part of him.

you run your fingers over the back of his palms and whisper, "take them out."

"sweetheart..."

"take them out, my love" you repeat, kissing his knuckles because you know it hurts every time he does.

he carefully and very very slowly bares them and you look at him from between the blades.

not breaking eye contact, you lean in and press a soft kiss to the base of the middle claw on his right hand. you catch him shuddering and your eyes widen in surprise.

"you felt that?"

you can see him redden even in the dark. "'course i did," he grunts.

"what does it feel like?" you ask, fascinated. everyday you learn something new about him and it never fails to delight you.

you kiss the base of another claw on the other hand and see him inhale sharply.

he groans deeply, humming to come up with the right words. "like... you're stroking every nerve in me to life."

that makes you sit up on your haunches and wrap your fingers around his wrists. he freezes, bracing himself to yank the claws back in the second he thinks you might hurt yourself on the sharp ends. you carefully lick along the length of the claw between his pinky and ring finger on his right hand, making him exhale shakily.

"tryna kill me, sugar?" he says through gritted teeth, every muscle in his body tense.

"trying to show you how much i love your claws, lo. even if they hurt sometimes."

you loop your right hand between both of his, gently pressing the tip of your thumb against the sharp end of a claw. you run your finger up the blade, making him whine in protest as you draw blood.

his eyes implore you, pleading, but you simply take your hand up to his mouth, pressing your bleeding thumb against his lips. he relents, sucking it into his warm mouth and licking it clean.

"logan?" you whisper and he hums around your thumb.

despite the heat in your core, pooling between your legs, you need him to hear this. you'll have time to fulfil that need later.

"every part of you means everything to me. but your claws, especially your claws, have the most special place in my heart. they protect me. they make you feel good. and most of all, they're fucking cool."

and that finally makes him crack a smile again.

"y'think so?"

"mhmm."

"c'mere." he says finally, pulling his claws back in and tugging you back into his lap.

he makes you straddle him and kisses you warmly. he looks into your eyes with such fondness, it squeezes your heart. carefully he pulls his first claw out on his right hand and uses it to gently push your hair out of your eyes. your eyes flutter shut in response, leaning into his metal touch.

he brushes the back of the claw across your cheek and your lips part prettily for him. the air doesn't feel so thick anymore, the quiet humming of the refrigerator in the kitchen not overwhelming him the way it was when he snapped awake.

ever so carefully, pushing his own boundaries, he turns his wrist and pushes the flat of his claw onto your tongue. it's warm and tastes of him, salty and musky and like metal.

"that okay for you, pretty girl?" he mumbles and you can hear the strain in his voice. he's terrified but he so badly wants to be brave for you.

you wrap your lips around the claws and suck softly in response, drawing a groan of pleasure from him.

he shudders beneath you, every inch of him tense and trembling with restraint. you slide your tongue along the metal, tracing the edge of his claw with reverence, savoring the taste of him.

logan’s breath catches in his throat, and you feel the warmth of his exhale ghost across your face. his other hand, free of the adamantium blades, finds its way to your waist, gripping you tightly.

"god," he breathes out, voice rough and filled with a raw vulnerability you hear only at night. "you have no idea what you do to me."

you slowly release his claw from your mouth, letting it slide out with a deliberate slowness that has him biting back another groan. his eyes are locked on you, dark with need.

you reach up, cupping his face with your now clean thumb, and brush your lips against his in a featherlight kiss. "i think i do," you whisper against his mouth. "i want you to feel how much i love every part of you, logan. even the parts that scare you."

his claws retract with a soft snikt, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you impossibly closer.

"you're something else, darlin'," he murmurs into your hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. you can feel the smile playing on his lips. "you make me feel... whole."

you nestle into his embrace, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest. "and you make me feel safe," you reply, closing your eyes and letting the furnace heart of his presence envelop you. "always."

you feel his grip tighten, his hand trembling slightly against your waist. he's always been the warrior, the weapon, the animal, but here in your arms, he's just logan, just a man who’s been through more pain than anyone should endure.

"people see the claws and think i’m nothing but a beast," he murmurs, his voice thick with self-doubt. "like i’m more metal than man. they look at me and all they see is the damage i can do."

you pull back just enough to look into his eyes, your hands framing his face. he tries to look away, but you won’t let him. you press a soft kiss to his brow, then his cheek, and finally, to the corner of his mouth.

"they don’t make you an animal," you whisper, your voice even and filled with conviction. "they make you strong. they’re not just weapons, they’re part of what makes you you."

his breath hitches at your words, and you feel him struggle against the years of conditioning, the years of being told that he’s nothing more than a killing machine. but you won’t let those words hold power over him anymore.

you reach down, gently taking his right hand in yours. with care, you press a kiss to each knuckle, feeling the warmth of his skin under your lips. then, you look up at him and slowly, deliberately, coax his claws out again.

you run your fingers lightly over the metal, tracing the curves and edges with the same care you’d give to a delicate piece of art.

logan watches you, his expression shifting from uncertainty to something deeper, something like awe. "you don’t see me like everyone else does," he says, almost to himself.

"no," you agree, leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of one of his claws. "i see you, logan. the real you. and what i see is a man who’s fought for so long to protect the people he loves, even when it’s cost him everything. your claws, they’re not just about hurting or fighting. they’re about protecting. they’re about survival. and they’re about who you have been for so long."

his chest rises and falls with each breath, the tension slowly easing from his body as your words sink in. for once, he doesn’t feel like an animal. he feels like a man, just a man. and it's nice.

"besides," you say, tone lightening. "so you really think I'm such a baby i can't handle three little cuts?"

you both know you're underplaying it and though he would never admit it in the day, the moonlight across his face betrays his grateful expression. it's easier to believe that he hasn't hurt you too much when you're saying it yourself.

you lower his hand, resting it against your chest, over your heart.

he swallows hard, holding you as if he’s afraid to let go. "ain't gon' ever deserve you," he whispers, his voice thick.

"you deserve everything," you murmur back, holding him just as tightly. "and i’m going to keep reminding you of that, every day."

for a moment, he’s silent, just holding you close. then, in a voice that’s barely more than a whisper, he says, "you almost make me feel human, darlin’."

you pull back just enough to kiss him again, only because you know he'd much rather feel than hear. your kiss is slow and tender, letting him feel the truth in your touch.

he doesn’t say anything more, but the way he kisses you back, the way he holds you, tells you everything you need to know.

he'll be okay. you'll make him okay. you gently push him to lie down and rest your head on his chest.

you love him, you love how he wants so badly to believe you, and most of all, you fucking love his claws.

--

this stemmed from a very nsfw thought™ but here we are, all warm and fuzzy. a mostly non-angsty fic is new for me!!

hope you liked this x

love, d <3

--

edit: i wrote an nsfw claw worship fic too 🤠🤝🏽 >> unholy