#this series just gets more and more insane the more you think about it

[deanwritings]

The Guest House - Chapter 12

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Series Summary: Dean Winchester is going through a nasty divorce. He doesn't have much left to his name, but what he does have is his house. Leave it to his soon-to-be ex wife to find a way to even ruin that for him. Enter Y/N, who is looking to get away from life for a bit, and stumbles right into the middle of it all.

The Guest House Master List

Word Count: 3,760

A/N: I'm back! Therapy has been great, I'm feeling like myself and that I can breath again. It's been a tough year and ya girl's mind needed a restart, but I am back and doing good.

Also, hope this chapter can be a bit of escape with the election insanity this week. Take care of yourselves everyone! 💖

Dean squeezes his eyes shut as he rests against the door.

What the fuck are you doing? Is all that rings in his mind.

Here he is, with some random girl who's staying in his guest house, put there by his bitch of an ex wife, basically groping her while his mother is a room away. Like he’s seventeen again. 

Really and truly. What the fuck. Are. You. Doing?

Dean rubs an exasperated hand down his face, the heels of his palms digging into his eyes before his hands slap down against his sides. 

It’s the whiskey. He tells himself. Just the whiskey. 

It has nothing to do with your smile. Like when you lit up on the track when you found out Rick would be taking you racing in your dream car. 

Nor your smart ass remarks that always seem to be waiting behind those pretty lips of yours. Or how you drive him crazy in the best and worst ways. Like making him say “please” in the garage this afternoon. 

It definitely has nothing to do with the way you look at him, no longer with disdain, but more recently with shining Y/E/C eyes and something that makes him want to throw you against this damn door, his nose running down the delicate skin of your neck as he takes you in as his hands explore every part of you. 

It also doesn’t help how you react to him; like when he turned your manners game around on you in the garage, and your eyes lit up in a way that made him want to throw you across the hood of Baby and have his way with you. Then just now in the hallway, how you seemed to want this as much as he did. How you leaned into him at his touch, the feel of your curves everywhere as he held you against him.

Those god damn hips. 

Dean’s jaw tightens at the thought, his teeth grinding down as something besides his heart rate starts to rise. 

Fuck. His head falls back with a thud against the doorframe. 

Y/N is hardly the first woman he’s been attracted to since his separation from Lisa. Hell, in the beginning, women were what kept his mind off his imploded marriage. Benny had laughed that Dean was making up for lost time since he and Lisa had gotten together when they were so young, but in reality, Dean just hated coming home to an empty house every day. All he could think of was Lisa and Gavin in his house. In his bed.  

But Dean would be lying to himself if this was only attraction. Ever since their hike, he’s found himself looking towards your cabin everyday before work, hoping to catch a glance of you before he has to leave. When sitting at his empty dining table, he would think about texting you, or maybe even going over and knocking on the cabin door, envisioning interrupting your own meal and riling you up in the process. Watching that fire come alive in you set something alive in Dean. It was like a wildfire, and he was happily caught in its path. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt like that. Somehow, at some point, you had drawn him in, and god damn did he want more. So much more. 

And it’s not just your body he wants to get to know. He’s found himself wondering what your favorite color is, or what movies you like to watch. He wanted to know, besides him, what made you tick? What makes you happy?

Could I make her happy?

Dean shakes his head and toes his boots off, shaking his head, trying to rid his thoughts of you. He doesn’t want to think about that last question, because he knows the answer. 

And while he tries to focus on undressing, his body is not willing to let go of the idea of you just yet.  

He’s wound up, and god damnit did he need a release. 

He undoes his belt and reaches into his boxers, feeling himself strain against the fabric as he takes a deep breath. He grunts, squeezing his eyes shut before pulling his hand out of his pants.

He shakes his head. He can’t do this. Not with you a wall away and his mother across the hall. He has some self respect. Not much, but he couldn’t sink as low as jerking off to you while you slept in his little brother’s room.

Sam.

And just like that, thinking of Sammy snaps him out of it. He relaxes with a deep breath, the tension finally beginning to fade away.

For extra measure, he pushes himself off the door and pulls it open, striding quickly down the hall to the unoccupied bathroom. He locks the door behind him and reaches into the shower and throws the water on. He drops his undone pants, letting them and his boxers pool around his feet before stepping out of them and throwing his sweater over his head before stepping into the shallow tub. 

He takes in a sharp breath as the cold spray of the shower meets his heated skin, his teeth clenched tight as he drowns himself under the stream as he works to think about anything but you.

Your eyes flutter open, a glimmer of the morning sun sneaking through the gaps of the curtained window. You take in a deep breath, flipping from your side to your back and sigh as you look up at the ceiling. 

Your mind is still reeling from last night; Dean’s hands holding you tight against him, his lips teasing your neck. 

You shut your eyes and swallow.

It was simultaneously one of the hottest and most frustrating things a man has ever done to you. Of course you had wished he had done a hell of a lot more, but the tease of it somehow made it that much more exciting. It made you wonder what else was in store for you. Just a sweet little taste of the possibilities that was Dean Winchester. 

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand beside you, and you shake off last night’s memories as you lean over to pick it up, the screen reading 9:52 with a few notifications beneath it.  

Shit. You quickly sit up. Normally, this would be a regular wakeup time for you on vacation or on the weekends, but you were a guest in someone’s home, and it felt incredibly rude to be up here sleeping while they were most likely downstairs waiting for you. 

As you scramble out of bed, the throb from last night’s wine is front and center in your head. You reach into your purse and throw back two Advil with a swash of water that you set out on your bedside last night before you throw on some fuzzy socks and a hoodie large enough to snuggle yourself into.

Before you reach for the door, you peek at yourself in the full-length mirror and grimace. You smooth down your hair and give it a fluff with your fingers before you reach into your makeup bag, dabbing on some concealer under your eyes and on a few of your red spots, with a light swipe of subtle blush on your cheeks before you deem you look good enough without looking like you’re trying.

You take a deep breath and open the door, taking in the quiet hallway and noticing both the doors to Mary and Dean’s rooms are ajar.

Fuck. You were at least hoping Dean might have also slept in after last night. But no such luck. 

You head down the stairs, your hand on the rail so you don’t slip in your socks before you wander into the kitchen. Mary is sitting at the table in front of the windows, one of her legs propped up and her head hidden by a book. Dean is hunched on a barstool at the island, a plate of food in front of him, currently being shoveled into his mouth, his usual caveman behavior, you’ve noticed, when it comes to food. 

“Morning,” you offer softly as you head over to the coffee maker, a half pot waiting for you. Mary had given you a tour of the kitchen while you cooked dinner last night, and you reach into the cabinet above the brewer and grab a light yellow ceramic mug and fill it about 3/4s of the way.

“Milk’s in the fridge.” Dean mumbles over the food in his mouth and you turn to face him fully. His eyes are cast down at a paper spread flat in front of him next to his breakfast. A smile you hadn’t intended falls at his lack of attention and you head over to the fridge, pouring until your coffee resembles the color of sand. Exactly how you liked it. 

“Want some coffee with that milk?” That deep voice rings out again, and this time when you look up, you’re met with Dean’s enchanting, forest eyes. Your heart skips a beat in your chest and you recap the milk before putting it away and closing the fridge door.

“Some of us enjoy flavor.” You smirk at him as you lean against the counter behind you, your hands wrapped tightly around the warmed mug, the kitchen cool in this March morning. 

“Milk doesn’t have flavor.” Dean grumbles, shoving a fork filled with eggs into his mouth. You frown at him. 

It’s like the tale of two Deans. The suave, sexy sweatered Dean who looks at you like he’ll throw you over your shoulder and make you scream until your voice is hoarse, and the pain-in-the-ass, mannerless idiot you’ve mostly grown accustomed to these last few weeks. 

Looks like you were getting the idiot this morning. You sigh at your own disappointment and swallow down your frown, wondering what that means about last night. 

When you don’t respond, Dean looks back to you, a question in his eyes. 

“There’s a plate for you in the oven.” Dean points his fork to said appliance. You turn your head, following the direction of his utensil-turned-compass.

“Oh,” your shoulders drop. “You didn’t have to save me a plate.” You feel your cheeks flush at the thought that they waited for you so long this morning that they had to keep a plate warm for you in the oven. 

“Oh don’t worry, Dean made it fresh.” Mary peeks out from behind her book for a quick second before disappearing again behind the cover. Dean drops his fork with a clank and shoots his mother a look, one she misses. 

You push off the counter and pad over to the oven. You pull open the door to find a blue ceramic plate.

No way.

You pull out the plate from the oven, the platter only slightly warm, and are greeted with two pancakes and a side of bacon. 

You quickly close the oven and turn on your heel facing Dean.

“You made me pancakes?” Your voice catches in your throat as you stare down at the fluffy buttermilk pancakes sitting poised on the plate. 

“Yeah, well, mom made eggs and I know your picky ass won’t eat those. Can’t have you starve before a big day.” Dean’s eyes met yours for only a moment before he shifts on the barstool and returns to his paper. 

You smile, even though Dean’s not looking at you anymore. You maneuver around the kitchen, grabbing a fork and knife before settling down at the island, a barstool between you and Dean.

You turn and look at him, his shapely jawline adorned with a devilish level of scruff.

“Thank you.” You say earnestly. This catches Dean’s attention, his gaze finding and holding yours long enough to make your heart skip a beat. 

“Don’t mention it.” He lingers on you for a moment longer before turning back to his paper and flipping a page. 

Your lips quirk but you try to not think too much on it as you begin digging in; the pancakes, buttery and full of vanilla, melting deliciously in your mouth. 

The rest of breakfast goes on in silence; Mary reading her book, Dean focused on the paper, and you left flipping through your phone since no one seemed interested in chatting. 

As you load up your dishes in the dishwasher, Dean folders his paper up and slaps it down on the counter before sitting up straight and crossing his arms as he stares you down.

“Think you can be ready in an hour?” Your face falls.

“More notice would have been nice, but yes, I can be ready in an hour.” 

“Good, cause we’re leaving in an hour.” You cross your arms, matching his stance.

“You don’t say.” Dean rolls his eyes at you and you huff. 

“Just go get ready.” He shakes his head, and now it’s your turn to roll your eyes. 

Such a pain in the ass. A handsome pain with a handsome ass. But still a pain. 

“Fine. See you in an hour.”

Forty-seven minutes later, you’re showered, your hair is dried and curled into a soft wave, and you’re putting on the finishing touches of your makeup when there’s a soft knock on your door.

You peek at your watch.

“I still have thirteen minutes!” You call out. 

Dean really was pushing the boundaries today. And it was driving you crazy. 

He practically dry humps you last night, ignores you this morning, but makes you a delicious breakfast because he remembered you hate eggs. The man was impossible and it was starting to annoy you. And frustrate you, in a way you were not used to. You bite down on your lip.

“It’s just me.” Mary’s gentle voice calls back.

Shit. 

You drop your mascara into your makeup bag and push yourself off the floor and scurry to the door.

“Sorry about that,” you apologize as soon as Mary comes into view. “I assumed you were Dean.” You offer a half smile as Mary chuckles.

“It’s okay. Mind if I come in.” You step aside and open the door fully, allowing Mary to step in. 

“I just wanted to see if you need any help with your outfit.”

“My outfit?” Your brow furrows, and you look over to your bed where your black chunky sweater and jeans lay waiting for you. Mary’s eyes follow your line of sight. 

“I’m going to guess Dean didn’t give you a heads up, since men never think about these things, but these car shows tend to be on the dresser side.”

Fuck. No, Dean did not tell you that. Your jeans were the nicest thing you brought with you. 

“Yeah, he failed to mention that.” Now you stare at your outfit, anxiety flooding through you at the thought of sticking out for being underdressed. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

Mary just smiles at you.

“Come with me.” She waves at you before heading out of the room, and like you’re told, you follow her, heading across the hall and into her bedroom.

The room is large and full of windows and natural light. The lake-chic theme of the downstairs continues through the primary bedroom, with white furniture, a canopy bed with a blue bedspread that matches the wainscot walls, and yellow accents throughout the room. On one of the dressers is a large, framed, selfie of Mary and John, which looks more recent than a lot of the pictures in the living room. Mary’s smile is bright as ever as John kisses her cheek, the two of them in heavy jackets and beanie hats, the hint of snow behind them. 

Mary continues through the room, stopping in a short hallway before disappearing through a doorway. 

“I’ve got a few options that will probably fit you.” Mary’s muffled voice carries through the open doorway before she steps back into view, several hangers in her hand. “You look to be about my size from twenty years ago. And luckily I’m terrible at throwing out old clothes.” She chuckles as she lays out her six options on the ombre comforter that probably matches the lake when it’s not frozen. 

They’re all a mix of dresses, different colors and styles, but the fifth from the end catches your eye.

“Ohh, how about that one.”

Dean taps his foot as he waits in the foyer, checking his watch again. It’s now been an hour and seven minutes since you went upstairs. 

“God dammit woman,” he mutters out in a sigh. 

He meant to tell you last night what time you had to be ready, but the two of you got a little preoccupied. Now he was paying for it by not giving you more of a heads up. 

He should have said something the moment you came downstairs this morning, but he wasn't ready to face you right at that moment. The dreams he had about you last night made it hard to look you in the eyes. And when he finally did, you looked absolutely beautiful, sleep still in your Y/E/C eyes and a glow in your cheeks. You looked like you belonged here, resting against the counter in his mother’s kitchen, cozied up in some giant hoodie and pajama pants with coffee-flavored milk in your hands. 

The floor above him creaks and he turns quickly on his heel, his face dropping with his mood when he sees who it is. 

“Is she ready yet?” Dean all but whines to his mother as she descends. Rather than answer him, she stops two steps from the bottom, standing slightly higher than her statuesque son, and smacks him right in the side of the head.

“Ow!” Dean’s hand jumps to where his mother landed her stinging blow. Not that there was much power behind her swat, but she hasn’t smacked him like this since he was a teenager. 

“What the hell was that for?” Dean bemoans with a grimace, cradling his head.

“Dean Michael Winchester.” Dean’s eyebrows furrow at his mother’s use of his full name.

This was not good.

“You didn’t think,” Mary takes another step down. “To one,” she raises a finger. “Tell her that the car show is cocktail attire.”

Shit. 

“And two.” The second finger goes up. “What time to be ready. So don’t you stand here with a puss face asking when she’s going to be ready.” Dean drops his hand at his mother’s scolding and rolls his eyes. 

He starts to shake his head when Mary’s hand makes contact again, the surprise sending Dean stumbling.

“OW!” Dean yells louder this time, more annoyed than actually hurt. With how much smaller Mary was compared to him, Dean doubted she could actually hurt him even if she really wanted to.

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, Dean.” Her voice is sharp as her grass-green eyes stare him down. 

“I’m sorry, fine.” Dean concedes. “I just didn’t think about it.” But Mary doesn’t break eye contact.

“She’ll be down in a few minutes.” Mary gives him one last pointed look before taking the final step down and disappearing into the living room. 

Dean watches her go before glancing back towards the empty staircase, sighing out his frustration and giving you a few more minutes of grace.

Three minutes and forty-two seconds later, Dean is leaning against the frame of the front door when the upstairs landing groans again.

Dean’s head whips in that direction as he pushes off the door, just in time to see you take the first step. You’re wearing the black heeled boots you had on yesterday, but it’s paired with a strapless beige dress, the edges trimmed in black with a matching belt wrapped tight around the gentle curve of your waist.

Without thinking, Dean lets out a low, impressed whistle, ignoring the pounding in his chest as he stands up just a little straighter. 

Your hair is down, styled off to one side, with the most makeup Dean has seen you in so far; with full, dark lashes, pink cheeks, and bright red lips, which Dean can’t seem to look away from.

Something else is starting to stand a little straighter too.

Dean clears his throat, and offers out a hand as you get to the last step.

“Thanks,” you reply gently before you drop his hand and head for the coat rack.

“You look nice.” Dean’s now taking in the view of you from the back, leaving little to the imagination like those workout pants did a few weeks ago as the dress seemed to hug your body perfectly. 

Damn. And here mom thought you weren’t prepared. 

You spin on your heel, one arm shimming into your jacket sleeve, your eyes as bright at your smile.

“Thanks.” You repeat. “The dress is your mom’s.” You smirk.

Dean’s mouth drops open as his stomach falls.

“Please don’t tell me that.” Dean groans. The last thing he needs to think about is his mom in that dress. The same dress he was just checking out your ass in.

You just quietly chuckle as your other arm flails for your second sleeve, just missing the opening.

Without a word, Dean steps closer, grabbing your jacket for you and holding it steady so you can slip your arm into. Once it’s in, Dean raises your jacket just a bit before resting it on your shoulders. 

You turn back to him with a smile of thanks, which he can’t help but return.

“Ready?” 

“Sure am.” 

Dean opens the front door for you and you step outside into the bracing afternoon air.

“Have fun, kids!” Mary’s voice travels behind the two of you as Dean steps outside and closes the door behind him. 

You take gentle steps across the driveway, avoiding the few patches of ice that are still lingering. This gives Dean the opening he needs to step in front of you, getting to the passenger door of the Impala about three steps ahead of you.

Without a word, he pulls open the door.

“Wow, getting the full gentleman treatment today, huh.” Your cheek dimples with your half smile as you lower yourself into the passenger seat. Dean smiles down at you.

“What can I say, I’m full of surprises.” You chuckle as Dean gently shuts the door before heading around to the driver’s seat and hopping in.

With one last check of the mirrors, Dean backs out of the driveway, and the two of you were off. 

[themareverine]

A KING & HIS CASTLE ▹ IN YOU, MY FORTRESS

— oldman!Logan x fem!OC drabble

SERIES SUMMARY: Breadwinner. Bring-Home-the-Bacon. King of the Castle. He's heard it all before, but it's never been true of the Wolverine. Until her. Coming home to her is the only thing to live for, the only thing keeping the heart behind his ribs spinning.

SYNOPSIS: Insane, sick. Straight to hell if that’s the case—he couldn’t think of worse torture, and he’d outlived excrutiating. He knows it more intimately than he should, living it every day. Leaving his small Eden behind, in the biting Mexican dust that wilds it away in the glass of his rearview, it’s hell beyond the little limits of everything he, now, holds close.

warnings: drabble series, day-in-the-life, dad!Logan, age gap, angst, domesticity, pregnancy, babies, children, Logan is a boy dad because I said so.

a/n: based on this. and I have to dedicate this to @1800-fight-me for that post, which changed my brain chemistry and prompted my first oldman!Logan.

SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

On days like this, Logan could kill. 

Redlight. Redlight. Red, again. Red fuckin’ light. 

He could see them in his fuckin’ sleep. At a little after four, a text from a bunch of digits suggests a phone number—Chicago, if his guess was right. You booking rides? like it’s normal business hours instead of ass o’clock in the morning, like he hasn’t just passed out in bed after getting home and standing beneath a lava-hot shower for all of a handful of minutes—managed three and a half hours of fucking, much-needed racktime. 

Need a limo for five, 7:15. $1k green. 

Squinting into the screen without readers had been like staring into the sun, but Logan had managed. Dimness dropped to low as hell—fine, i'll be there with slow thumbs that burned, felt as if the weight of US-57 had been chained to every fiber of his skin structure. He’d managed to arrange a call time without so much as hammering his phone through the floor, a small mercy—place was barely standing as-is. Hauling old bones from bed was just short of crawling from hell, the warmth of under-covers and threadbare sheets more alluring than Egyptian gods. 

Hair not dry from his first shower, smothered against a thick, hard pillow for the three hours of sleep he’d managed, he stalked his ass back into the shower. Tried to work the cold irritation at humanity swimming in his veins beneath more hot water, failed—wrangled into only-slightly wrinkled slacks and jacket, may as well have been like roping steers. Skipped shaving, fuck that, started the hunt for another of his damn socks. Fumbling about the room like a green linebacker, he didn’t even feel the bed stir. Tangle of sheets around feet, the low moan of a curious, half-asleep lover. 

“Logan?” Drowsy, she props her pretty self up on an elbow. He can see her squinting into the lowlight of the room, thick streams of light from the moon creep over the bed in an otherworldly, nightingale kind of way—half bathed in lunar milk, he couldn’t miss the slight pull of her satin nightdress for anything as she sits up, scrubbing a hand down her face. She asks him what’s up, “Haven’t decided to finally leave me, have you?” 

Insane, sick. Straight to hell if that’s the case—he couldn’t think of worse torture, and he’d outlived excrutiating. He knows it more intimately than he should, living it every day. Leaving his small Eden behind, in the biting Mexican dust that wilds it away in the glass of his rearview, it’s hell beyond the little limits of everything he, now, holds close. Never in a thousand lifetimes would Logan ever imagine being that guy—the guy who fortresses a home. The man who makes vows. Oaths before heaven, whispers sweet nothings and pretty everythings to a heart that beats like his. Never was one for wishing on stars or counting them, slow in a different kind of way—slow in sense of the half-dead, way that smells roses hardly fathomable. If anyone would’ve told him his heart would beat for someone else, for living—-in this shell of a body, this phantom of a man, he’d have laughed. Never believed, no sir. Not him, not the Wolverine. 

Her slow, half-drunk chuckle off the statement claws at his aching ribcage. Fingers brushing what feel like a wad of socks, Logan moves to stuff them into his pocket. Swipes shoes from where he’d dropped them not long ago, slips through the darkness carefully. Where she’s risen from bed comes up quickly, and he blocks the milk of light swathing over their bed from view—fingers her hair away from her face, wild from where it’s fallen from her usual satin cap. 

“You’re dreamin’,” he hums, can’t deny the hint of a mile as she manages a rough, morning-dry chuckle. It sits low. Rattles around the adamantium in his chest. “G’back to sleep, baby—it’s early.” And if that isn’t the God-awful truth, he isn’t sure what is. 5:34 glares back at him when he checks the screen of his phone, not missing the pretty smile laughing back at him from the lockscreen. His lips brush her forehead lightly, hand firm at the back of her neck as his thumb skips over the steady thrum of her pulse. 

Lithe, curious fingers reach for him in the night. As always, they find him—her nails scratch lightly through his unshaven face, skin that’s dewy. An idea of Irish Spring still floats in the air around his nose, but it’s overpowered by the scent of her—the flow of her blood, the oil of her skin. Frankincense she uses in her hair before bed claws at his chest, unmistakable hints of petroleum jelly on the plush of her lips lights cravings in the back of his throat. Even today, after years, her touch still trailblazes through him like wildfire—cuts trails through the jungle of his unknowns, his hesitations. Three days away had felt like fallout, she’d been asleep like any sane person at 3 in the witching hour when he’d dropped into bed.

Blood pistoning to his cock reminds him how long. He’s been a starving man, deprived of her honey—her fruits. 

“You’ll be back?” Her palm against his cheek is God’s gift to humanity, may as well have carved the peak of mountains. “You just got in, Lo,” even in the light of stars he can see the worry mottle pretty features, the depth of her eyes couldn’t be masked by any amount of midnight the universe knew. “You sure you’re okay to drive?” I can drive, if you need me to. She hadn’t driven in years, not since—

“M’fine,” he nods, “don’t you worry ‘bout nothin’ honey.” Slipping her hand into his, he lifts it to press an airy kiss the heel of her hand. It’s soft, for the most part—only partly chapped, mostly from the dry. Dry, and the in-and-out of the desert sun. Keen senses can still taste the brush of earth on her skin, dirt from good hours spent outside. Laughing, running. Playing pretend, exploring the mesa. Like a child, like innocence. 

“Be back tonight,” it comes off a thick cough, “don’t have to wait up.” 

Her snort is sharp. “ I’ll wait. Hate this BS,” the nod is resigned though, knowing. A deep sigh puffs out her cheeks, blows hot against his lips as she looks up at him. “Need you here, Logan,” I know, don’t I know—guiding her arms around his middle, her cheek falls against his chest. Her weight against him reminds him he’s alive, still breathing—reminds him that this, right here, is his. He can feel her hum low at the bottom of her ribs, and rests his chin in her hair, rocking her back and forth lightly. Relishing her heat, the slip of satin. The spring of curl cream in her hair, the zip of adrenaline and sex in his blood. “Want you here.” 

As 5,000 volts as the day he met her, all those years ago. Logan can still taste the rain in the air, the sting of sour sweat and testosterone in the bar. The bite of the steel cage. It’s still clear in the back of his head, glancing at her on a barstool in the corner—more of a drowned lizard than a girl, as the bartender had so aptly noticed. Tired, pretty in the eyes. Broke as hell and as lost as they came—he’d never forget the smile she gave him as he’d tucked her back into that ancient Jeep as long as he lived. 

And she’s still pretty in the eyes, even if they are a little deeper. Haven’t aged a day in all the years she’s been chasing shadows, stalking the sun by his side—racing to die, chancing to live. As Wolverine as they came, in a different kind of way. Unkillable, like him. God’s gift to him, certainly—an Eve for his unkillable Adam, to taste the sun. Lifetimes and mementos of the forgotten behind them, this is his castle. His home— life that, had finally, birthed. 

Wrapped up in pretty satin and swaddling clothes. “I should check on little man,” and there it is. The nail in his coffin. Mention of their son—his son, it’s like a slow poison. Logan never, in any of his days, would imagine that the idea of a child, his offspring would do such devastatingly good things to him—he can’t remember when it changed, how it happened. But it stabs at the mesh of his ribs unlike anything he’s ever felt all the same, toys with his pleasures like a cat with a mouse. Her head tipping back greenlights the pad of his thumb gently pulling at the plush of her bottom lip. Looking up at him with a teasing smile, through low lashes undoes him in a way that should be sin. 

And he kisses her the way she likes, slow. Hard. When her arms snake around his neck, pulling him close, he loses his composure. Deepens the kiss, moans against the heat of her tongue playing with his. “Careful,” he smiles through every languid stroke of her tongue, every little breathless gasp, “don’t start somethin’ we can’t finish, pretty.” 

“Who says we can’t?” 

“When I get back, baby.”

Her pleasured hmmm, heady whispers in dark shadows light him up like a firecracker, but he can’t. Can’t stay, can’t go—trapped in situation’s limbo. Hell of a thing, really. His finger traces the curve of her hip, up—falls in line against her bottom rib, tugging at the skin beneath satin. Erupting in a fit of ticklish giggles, her fingers tug at his hair, play with damp at the nape of his neck. “Logan—not fair!” her breathlessly sharp whine—it fucks his brains. 

“Plen’y fair,” another kiss, one more taste of her, and he steps back. Creates a chasm and his pulse jumps, almost flatlines. Fingertips linger against his as he moves for the door—her tongue chases over kiss-fat lips, and Logan swears to God he can see the fire dancing in the cradle of her womb as she follows after him. Once they hit the door, he kisses her again—it’s the only thing that will keep him alive. 

“I love you, kid,” kid. Hasn’t called her that in awhile. She still smiles at the name, like she always has. It’s true but isn’t—he’s 200 years older than her, another sin on his growing list of indiscretions with God. But she’s lived enough life at his side for it to count, seen enough blood. Heart racing behind his ribs, waiting—breathlessly. All too damn breathlessly for a man who couldn’t give up his breath if God asked. 

“Love you more,” a Betty Crocker kiss to his cheek and she slips away, into the darkness, opposite direction. Nursery, the quiet pull of the innocent. His feet point to the kitchen, to the reckless hour of the world’s morning. 

Twenty-seven steps. Out the door, sink into the limo. A text lights up the phone he’s tossed to the passenger seat as headlights cast lowbeams into witchy darkness. Foot on the brake, he fumbles the breastpocket for hardly-new readers, ignoring the tag still hanging out on the templepiece. Grabbing it, opens the photo attachment. Her, and his child—his son, his side of the bed. His never-in-a-million-years, impossible-to-the-stars family—

— his fortress, the castle to which he returns. Lucky son of a bitch. 

tags: @fandomxo00 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88

[fairyofsilence]

BEHIND HIS LENSE | 2/7 | TTIB SERIES | PREVIEW

Pairing: Photographer!Taehyung x PersonalAssistant!Reader

Warnings: +18, Yandere, manipulation, drugging, EXPLICIT NONCON; cunnilingus, rough sex, victim blaming, slut shaming, blackmailing, abuse of power, coercion.

Summary: After 4 long years of working for the extravagant photographer Vante, you decide to step down from your job after catching feelings for your boss, which you're sure he will never return.

But he's determined to show you that there's only one person he will consider his muse, and it's you.

I don't agree nor condone any of the actions made by any of the characters throughout the story, I also do not belive that any of the members of BTS would act this way or have this type of behaviour, this story it's fiction and it's written with the sole purpose of entertainment, please proceed with caution.

Word count: 0.8 k.

Just a quick preview of what's coming :)

In three days from now, you’ll be quitting the only job you’ve ever had.

You know you’re extremely lucky to have landed such a sought-after job with absolutely no experience at all, especially when you consider who you’re working for, but you had truly underestimated just how demanding this job was, the number of errands you do in a day will send a normal person into a coma. At first, things started to pile up pretty quickly, and eventually, you learned how to keep on top of things, becoming one of the best at what you do, but recently, there’s something that no matter how hard you tried to push it aside, you can’t seem to shake it off, and if the job was hard before that, this just had officially made it unbearable.

You’re falling in love with your boss.

At first it was nothing but a simple, innocent crush, to be fair, how can anyone blame you? Taehyung is an attractive man, and his charm rapidly made your 20-year-old-self infuriated, although that crush faded quite quickly (thanks to Taehyung’s insufferable attitude the first couple of months), these past couple of months have been messing with your head, quite frankly, you think you’re going insane with the amount of overthinking you’ve been doing, but there’s things you can’t make up, especially since other people have been noticing too.

It all started with a simple comment, your best friend had planted the seed into your brain.

“Wow, since when did you get a raise?” Sohee’s eyes nearly pop out of their sockets while she makes grabby hands at your new bag, you hand it out to her, and she touches it like it’s made of glass “How in the hell did you afford a brand-new Flamenco bag? I thought you said you were saving up for a new apartment!” Her tone is so high that you needed a second to digest what she just said, which leaves you more confused than you already are.

“What are you even talking about? If you think I bought this bag than I’ll have to reconsider all these years of friendship” You tried to joke around but Sohee doesn’t seem to be taking this lightly.

“How the hell did you get a 4-thousand-dollars bag then? You didn’t tell me you had a sugar daddy!” You almost faint when hearing the actual price of your new bag, but before she can say anything even more stupid, you quickly try to cover her mouth, but she swats your hand easily.

“Can you stop? I didn’t know it was this expensive!” She raises one of her brows at you and you feel the need to explain yourself “I don’t have a sugar daddy dumbass; Taehyung gave it to me the other day after a photoshoot” Sohee’s mouth opens so wide you have to restrain yourself to not laugh and cause an even bigger scene at the company’s cafeteria.

“Are you kidding me? Are you fucking him or something?” You gave Sohee a nasty look that she couldn’t care less about “I think the nicest thing Namjoon has ever done for me is saying ‘Please’ or ‘Thank you’, and he doesn’t even do that often, how the hell did you get your boss to give you a damn designer bag?” Her fixation over a bag is starting to get in your nerves, so you try to explain the situation to her.

“It was during a photoshoot like three days ago, he shot the new Loewe campaign and during a break I said that the color of this bag is very pretty, he asked if I liked the bag and I said yes because it was the biggest one where I could definitely fit everything I needed on it, he just nodded and by the end of the shoot he came to me with the bag on his hand telling me it was for me, I asked him why would he gave it to me and he just said ‘It matches your blouse’, kind of dumb if you ask me” Sohee was truly in a state of shock by the end of you explanation, and you didn’t know what to even say to her about that.

She’s speechless for a few seconds before she looks at you with an accusing stare.

“Wait a second, didn’t you tell me once that he made you send the girls he fucks a designer bag when he’s trying to fuck them?” Her eyebrows are almost reaching her hairline, and you don’t even know how to defend yourself because that was true.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean anything-” Sohee shuts you up with a single look, and you are forced to face the reality.

“Y/N, wake up, that man wants something from you, and it’s not anything casual if he’s giving you these types of gifts, we’ll let it slide this time” You scoff at her ‘we’ but she ignores you, “But if this keeps happening, you have two options, tell him to back off, or” Her tone was starting to piss you off, and you didn’t know if it was because she was being truly annoying, or because deep down you knew that she was right, “you can get more out of him, not just a designer bag”.

[evenmorefatallyobsessed]

Okay so since this I've been getting spammed with several different AU versions of the RWBY Girls.

The Tarnished Spartan, Withered Rose and Aged Dragon... Okay, so I'm probably gonna get some hate for this... But Hot Take, these make no damn sense...

The idea that ANY Member could survive in the EverAfter Like Jaune did is laughable... Ruby Literally Killed Herself like what...Three Days in?

Blake Runs... Repeatably from shit, and is ironically the quickest to emotional outlashing...

The one who'd last the longest are Weiss and Yang... And to be frank, we've seen Yang Break, and succumb to Depression, and that was before her whole character became all about Blake. I'm only half joking about that, Seriously though the fact that her biggest mental issue was over her and Blake's relationship Reveals exactly why she'd fail to last there... She'd break, in a year alone, and give into depression.

Yang just isn't as emotionally and mentally strong as Jaune, it's why after The Fall she gave up while Jaune didn't.

Weiss, I could see Weiss going insane since the EverAfter was REALLY fucking with her logical sensibilities. Ultimately I think she'd last the longest but also would go way crazier then Jaune...

But what would do her in is Alyx poisoning her...

And then we have Pyrrha... HAHAHAHA!!! No, No wait, I need to laugh more! SERIOUUSLY!!! PYRRHA!!! PYRRHA!

Dude, I don't know why People fail to grasp that Pyrrha for all her strengths, and amazing points, is emotionally and mentally one of the weakest characters in the entire show.

The girl is a literal champion, invincible, had Weiss arrogant freaking Schnee trying to Brown Nose her way into being her partner. And somehow she lacked the confidence to even try and flirt with a boy she likes.

She will literally tell Jaune to go ask out Weiss to the Dance Knowing it'll fail because let's face it, up until then it always has... Instead of asking him herself... Outside of combat Pyrrha incredibly weak-willed. It's actually something I really appreciated about her character, that she was only a Mary Sue when in battle.

Outside of it, she's not the walking talking solve everyone's problem girl... And we see this with more then just Jaune, we saw it when she was tearing herself apart over choosing whether to become the Fall Maiden or not.

To the point where she used her powers and lashed out at Jaune... Of Course, that is Valid. She was going through a lot, through a really horrible, cruel decision...

But that's exactly why I know she'd fail in the EverAfter, because the EverAfter is so much more mentally taxing. Physical strength only means so much when that place fucks with your mind more then anything.

And let's not sugar coat it, Pyrrha would be in a rough spot emotionally compared to Jaune. The fight at Haven... Would be the same I'd say. Pyrrha would Rush Cinder outta rage. And even if Cinder hadn't attacked her, Vernal was winning, and I can't see her sparring Weiss. So Yeah, Weiss would've died and it'd snowball into worse.

Hell, regular Pyrrha would break in the EverAfter, let alone a guilt-ridden one. All it takes is some fucked up mind game involving Jaune in that crazy world and I'd see Pyrrha rushing to Ascend herself.

Okay, well... I'm done with my little rant, sorry all y'all for dropping that on you. And hey, if you like the idea of these Aged warriors from the EverAfter then power to you. Just cuz I don't like them doesn't mean you shouldn't.

I'm just getting sick of ask pertaining to this is all, especially the more toxic ones saying 'If Jaune could do it, then it'd be easy for (Insert RWBY Girl's Name)' as those are utter bullshit as the only person who might be sane enough to last there alone might... Might be Ren.

The series has shown that while their strong physically Team RWBYs members are mentally way more fallible then Jaune.

Okay so diving a bit into the Fate series I'm realizing something Jaune qualifies to be a Heroic spirit. The Rusted Knight is literally his legend... And now I'm trying to think on how much his legend (The Story) Effects him.

Would he be a Rider (Juniper Mount) Or a Saber... I would suggest Ruler but from my understanding it requires one to not covenant to Grail which due to his regrets (Pyrrha, Penny & Alyx) I can't see Applying to him.

And finally what would be his Noble Phantasm? Thoughts anyone?

[aihoshiino]

chapter 165 thoughts

Aqua Hoshigan Status: It's Officially Hoshinover

Chapters Until The Story Ends Without The 143 Kiss Being Addressed Or Acknowledged: 1

damn i guess they really did just kill his ass

I'm gonna be so real with you gamers, I kind of don't have a lot to say about this one either lol. Which I acknowledge sounds completely wild given the Everything that happens in it, but most of my meat and potatoes analysis in these reviews comes from breaking down characterization and we're flying through everything at such breakneck pace that we're barely getting any characterization.

It continues to drive me bugfuck insane that Ai is completely absent from this finale despite the importance of 15 Year Lie. Its imagery is plastered all over but whenever we return to it, we just see Aqua. Not only that, but Gotanda is the one who insists on pushing the movie through for Aqua. 15YL as a story about Ai's true self and her tragedy is now officially taking a backseat to being about Aqua's tragic death and legacy. It was already bad enough that we spent so much time in the Movie Arc not actually focusing on Ai to the extent that, as everyone pointed out, based on what we saw on-page it was basically a Sad Kamiki Movie, but this really is just pissing right in the wound at this point lmao.

The funeral scene also serves as the final nail in the coffin for any Secretly Alive Aqua copes, which is kind of a relief. I still don't like how Aqua's death played out, but I think dragging it out for four chapters then going "sorry you thought i was /srs when i was just /jk" would have been infinitely more insulting. I don't like this ending, but I can respect that Akasaka seems to be sticking to his guns on it, even if we still do have like a whole chapter left for him to whip around and go "I WAS /JK ALL ALONG!!!!" but I don't see it happening.

Anyway, yeah! The funeral! Uh. Is it gonna sound weird if I say I felt kind of like… grossed out reading this the first time? Like, I really don't know how else to explain the visceral "why the fuck is the author making me read this" reaction I had to it. I think it's just because Kana is so fucking distraught here and the drama is just so hammy and so over the top that it feels kind of… ech. I dunno. I just really didn't vibe.

It doesn't help that this is part of a much broader pattern in the back half of OnK of Aka getting us right up close into the gory details of a character's complete mental breakdown and suffering and then spend zero time or focus on their recovery. This happened with Ruby all over the Movie Arc and this many times and with this little runway to the end of the series, it just starts to feel exploitative, like a way to cheaply pull at our heartstrings without doing the work to build everyone back up after tearing them down.

also pre-emptively dreading all the fuel this is going to add to the fires of People Who Are Weird And Misogynistic About Kana but she could die saving innocent children from a burning building and people would find reasons to be shitty about her lmao

we really are not seeing ruby's reaction to finding out her brother was dead huh lol

I will say the one thing I didn't Actively Dislike about this chapter was Ruby, though. I was honestly starting to get pretty skeeved out with how many people were gleefully predicting or actively wishing for her immediate suicide purely for ship motivated reasons and I was also worrying that the story was going to pretend that Ruby doesn't like. Have a life and support system outside of Aqua. Yes, she should absolutely be affected by his death but this period of her shutting down only to drag herself back onto her feet that we seem to be getting feels way more in line with pre-Movie Arc flanderization Ruby and I'll take that W where I can get it.

god. I haven't even talked about Kamiki's supposed serial killer cult. I just don't have the strength. Like… that's self-evidently stupid, right? I don't need to explain to you why that's ridiculous and unbelievable? You don't need me to tell you why it's fucking crazy that we're getting this information about the alleged overarching antagonist of the series not only in the second-to-last chapter of the entire series but after he was already dead, right? We can just move on? Ok good. jesus christ.

FINAL CHAPTER NEXT WEEK…

[crooked-wasteland]

I think what annoys me so much about the way the show blasts Blitzo for being a cold and unromantic partner is that it’s a perfect example of ignoring worldbuilding to make a character look worse.

By human standards, Blitzo abandoning someone when they tell them that they love him is pretty cowardly and understandably upsetting. But in Hell standards? Verosika should’ve fucking known he’d run away because Hell seems to look down heavily at the concept of love. This is like knowing that it’s taboo to kiss and then getting mad at a character for not kissing you. You can’t blame someone for being adjusted to what society expects of you. Verosika can still be hurt but it’s genuinely insane how much she clings on to this hate like he did a crime.

And the fact that we just skip over seeing their relationship is also infuriating because I get the feeling that Viv was both not interested in actually showing us what Verosika was like and also afraid to make her do anything that feels more in line with her character which is act angsty and spiteful

I've had a thought about Verosika. From the we've seen this season, the writers have actually listened to and addressed criticism for the show. The Ghostfuckers leaks show an overhaul of the original story, the fact that episodes got shifted around at the start of the series, the blatant un-writing of the assassination plot, and the fact that Unhappy Campers was the only pre-special episode to not be in the season 2 trailer (most likely because it was still in the early stages of animation due to massive rewrites to incorporate more Millie) are all evidence to this. It's obvious the crew is not happy about it, but they are listening.

With that in mind, the show has repeatedly been accused of extremely sexist writing in favor of the male cast. As such, it's not surprising to see the pivot more towards "humanizing" the female characters in specific. I remember seeing a lot of comments about how they wouldn't forgive the show if they made another female character irredeemably cruel and brainless following The Circus, and even louder after Western Energy.

What fans had wanted was a complicated or even toxic dynamic where both characters weren't perfect, but still held Blitz accountable for his actions, fairly. What they got was the cheapest, laziest writing I've ever seen. Not only does it not make sense in regards to the established world building of Hell's attitude towards love, it still makes no sense for Blitz to run away just because Verosika said she loved him, only to then adopt a child. He explicitly goes to the pound looking for a pup, pivoting to taking in Loona out of pity. It's like saying marriage is too much of a commitment, but still having kids.

Instead, Medrano overcorrected to pander to critics the same way she panders to her fans. Verosika is not an irredeemably cruel and stupid, spiteful woman. She's a perfect victim actually. Not only is her only crime falling in love, but the relationship ended so fast and sudden that she didn't have any time to do anything.

All these choices feel not only deliberate, but resentful in how little care went into the writing. The most drastic overhaul being to Ghostfuckers where the entire narrative trimmed down and immensely reworked already existing elements into the script. It goes to show the level of improvement possible to an idea when given better direction, but it also shows the limitations of not having actual writers on the team.

Ghostfuckers does an amateur's best and comes out generally okay, but still suffers from over reliance on tropes without narrative substance. It's the genuine best that can be done with this team. And unfortunately that's still not good enough.

[gothamite-rambler]

Damian helps Mr. Freeze (Batfamily Chronicles Microfiction Series)

Mr. Freeze (talking to his self): Would me eating spicy food kill me? I never enjoyed them, but once to physically can't eat them it feels different. Thoughts for later.

Robin!Damian (walking over): Hi, Victor!

Mr. Freeze (turning around): Um, hi, you're the new Robin?

Robin!Damian: Yes, how could you tell?

Mr. Freeze: You are shorter and... brown. No offense I promise, it's just the other one is-

Robin!Damian: A skinny white boy who looks like he needs a feeding tube?

Mr. Freeze: Ja, that is insanely accurate. I like you so far, how did you get mixed up with the Bat?

Robin!Damian (lying with ease): My father and him go way back. Old college friends.

Mr. Freeze (falling for that lie): Not feelin' reassured that's why he has another child as a sidekick, but he's not the Joker. Thank goodness for that.

Victor sighed, tapping the glass on the dome that kept his face protected.

Mr. Freeze (cont'd): Let me guess, you're here to defeat me? Kid, run off I'm not in the mood to freeze a child.

Robin!Damian (chuckling): I actually have a proposal for you, Victor. I read your file a few times in the past and your story is truly tragic. I am sorry your wife has that illness and you ended up imprisoned in this suit.

Mr. Freeze (somber): Ah, it's quite all right. I continue to do research for a cure while committing crime. Honestly the crime part of my life is a side gig. I don't want to make you sad about it.

Robin!Damian (reassuring tone): No, no, no you're fine sir. I think that's admirable and if it helps your suit is fantastic and powerful.

Mr. Freeze (small smile on his rarely happy face): I need it to live, but thank you. I sup it up frequently. You are making a good impression so far, would you like to help me then?

Robin!Damian: Yes.

Mr. Freeze (pleased): I've always wanted a young apprentice.

Robin!Damian (raising his hand and shaking his head): Working with Batman is something I love to be honest. I meant I can help with healing your wife. I know this guy, Ra's-

Mr. Freeze (aiming his freeze gun at an unfazed Damian): Oh no, not that crazy dictator and his pit of green goop. I heard the effects it has on that formally dead man. How is he, by the way?

Robin!Damian: Batman pays to stop killing people and he's an awesome hero.

Mr. Freeze (surprised, but gets it): Really? You know what, good for him, as for you and Ra's, I reject that offer I am a man of science... mostly. I don't trust that hocus pocus.

Robin!Damian: Let me finish, sir. I told him not to use the pit and demanded he help get a cure for her disease. Nora is in stage four, Batman said he's okay with Ra's helping you and gra- Ra's gathered some smart men who can research a cure for you.

Mr. Freeze lowered his freeze gun hesitant.

Mr. Freeze: Wirklich? (For real?)

Robin!Damian (nodding): For real. To be fully transparent with you, there's no guarantee a cure will be found quickly, but they have one for the 3rd stage. There was a lot of negotiating with Ra's and I... definitely have to pay that man back for this, but he is willing to aid you with this, no strings attached.

Mr. Freeze (shocked): No... strings... attached?

Damian had to agree to traveling to an island to fight ninjas for his grandfather to agree, a secret he had to keep from his parents, but if it meant helping someone he felt warranted aid, it would have to be done.

Robin!Damian (tight smile): That was the toughest part to get him to agree, don't ever say heroes such as myself don't put their life on the line for you guys.

Damian held out a laminated red on black business card for Victor to take.

Robin!Damian: Here's his business card, give him a call and set up a meeting. I want to help you with this, Victor. I really do, so take the offer... please?

Victor took the card and a half smile appeared on his face.

Victor: Hm, You are a... good kid.

Robin: Eh, less good kid and more being a good hero.

Victor nodded, patting the young boy on the head. The man's hand was cold, but Damian felt warm inside having helped a tragic villain.

Victor: I swear if this works, Nora and I are going to be ze the best villain couple. I have a suit for her and a cool freeze gun and- Oh Scheiße, I shouldn't have said that out loud.

Damian having disconnected his communication device before he entered the lair, waved away those concerns.

Robin!Damian: I factored that in and I support your team up when Nora awakens. Batman won't be around for long, but I will and I think you'd both make great foes.

Victor (happy grin): Kid, now I like you. Honestly, count yourself crossed off my list. I won't ever freeze you.

Robin!Damian: I'm going to brag about that to the others. Bad news for right now, I have to take you in, but the cops won't hurt you or anything.

Victor (resigned to his arrest): Ja, factored that, but I will honor my promise and not freeze you. I'll call this dastardly man after they lock me up. I did miss my old cell, gives me time alone with my thoughts.

Damian nodded in agreement while he and Victor walked out of the warehouse.

Robin!Damian: Oh and I heard that you've been having temperature issues in your cell, I can talk to someone about that as well.

Victor: Danke, it's as if they don't understand I require cold to live! Young hero, your father would proud how well you handled a villain of my caliber.

Robin!Damian (smiling): Making sure to tell my entire family that too.

[ramblingautisticman]

Why Is This Song In My Poolverine Playlist, A Series.

(I am extremely insane and make playlists for every ship/character/show I like, and yes, there is a reason each one is in there. I think of lil scenarios, situations, or straight up story ideas because of a song- so enjoy this series where I write them all down!)

(Part 1, Part 2)

Monster from Adventure Time

So, I honestly hadn't thought about this song in relation to Wade and Logan until @ohitsthemindstuffagain said about it, and now it's all I can picture when I hear it.

This is such a Wade and Logan coded song and it's insane.

"I know we'll never grow old together, cause you'll never grow old to me."

Wade knows Logan is slowly ageing, something he doesn't do, and one day, he will be alone again. One day, he will watch Logan get grey hair, his face gaining wrinkles, his muscles getting softer. He's okay with that. He's made his peace, but it still hurts. Still makes his heart ache to know that one day Logan will die of old age and he will still be here. Wade will still have the same young body he does now. His body will always be 40 years old- and Logan's will always be ageing.

"You're the pink in my cheeks, and I'm scared cause that means I'm a little bit soft."

Logan has softened since knowing Wade. He's become less gruff and angry over time. Wade jokes that he managed to domesticated The Wolverine, and what's funny about that is the fact it's true. Where Logan used to be rough and jaded, he was soft and caring. It scared him. Alot. He was so used to the anger and violence coursing through his body that now- with this love and affection slowly replacing it- he wasn't sure what to do. Wasn't sure how to function.

"We were messed up kids who taught ourselves how to live, and I'm still scared that I'm not good enough."

Wade had always survived- never just lived. Ever since he was a kid. His dad had been an abusive asshole- his mother a cold-hearted bitch- and so he had grown up teaching himself how to survive. How to hide bruises from school, how to make food without getting noticed, how to avoid getting screamed at if he didn't do well on a test. It was ingrained into him as a kid- that he wasn't good. He would never be good. He was a broken fuck up that would never amount to anything. It was something he had taken with him through the rest of his life- and it was something he couldn't help but reflect back on when him and Logan had begun dating. Logan was a hero- he had saved the world more times that Wade could count- and here he was, dating Wade. Dating the one guy he shouldn't. Logan deserved better. Alot better. Deserved literally anyone that wasn't Wade. Logan was so genuine with him though- sounded like he meant every word he said- that slowly, he was helping to break that childhood trauma. He was showing Wade that he was worth something, no matter what some asshole father had said. It was ironic, because Logan had gone through a similar experience as a child, but here he was- helping Wade like it was nothing. He supposed that after 200 years, you resolve some of your issues.

"I've always felt like a monster, long before I was big, but only seen as a monster, let's just say I'm used to it."

Logan had always been told he was a freak, an animal, a killer. Ever since he was young. It hurt- until he had heard it enough times that it was second nature. He started to believe what they said about him. Think about the fact he really was a killer and an animal, the way he slashed through people like it was nothing or the way he growled when he was angry, it was true- wasn't it? And then he met Wade, and Wade showed him praise for all of those things. He never once seemed scared of Logan- infact he seemed to like all of the things he hated about himself. Wade would gush over the claws, joke about him being a cat, shout him on as he took out the bad guys on a mission. It felt strange, being show affection for the things people showed him hatred for for so long, but here it was. The praise he had always wanted.

"Yeah, I'm used to that, but I could get used to this."

His time with Vanessa had been amazing. Wade really had loved her with all of his heart- and he really did think they would be together until the end of time- but life got in the way as it often did. He had accepted she moved on, and while it hurt, he was happy she was happy. That she was finally with someone who could treat her right and keep her safe. It had felt strange to feel that similar fluttery feeling towards someone else- but Logan had managed to slip into that gap in his life with such ease that Wade never even noticed until he found himself not thinking of Vanessa anymore- instead he thought of Logan. It took him awhile to get used to that- to realise he could feel these things for someone else- and he liked it. Love it infact. The way Logan made him feel was so much more different than Vanessa, and he liked that. Logan complelty understood him. Never judged him for his looks or about the way he acted- loved every part of him like it was the easiest thing ever- and Wade couldn't help but find that so much better than what he had with Vanessa.

And the rest of the song? I could make up SEVERAL scenarios or ideas about each lyric for both of them. It fits so well it hurts.

[i-am-creacheur]

okay listen. I get the urge to talk about my favorite life series ship like it's Canon in every season...BUT. THAT HAS NEVER ONCE BEEN THE CASE.

Yes, Jimmy would be upset if Tango canaried (technical scientific term for that). Everyone would be- even I would be, and I've never watched a single one of his videos. Canarying sucks, and it hurts. Of course I would be upset. THAT DOES NOT MEAN THAT I THINK JIMMY WOULD BREAK DOWN SOBBING FROM A CHARACTER STAND POINT. They have had only like... THREE on screen interactions. One is Tango murdering a man infront of Jimmy and another is Tango cheerfully burning down something one of Jimmy's teammates worked very hard on. WildLifeChara!Jimmy has more reason to hate or be afraid of WildLifeChara!Tango than to be madly in love with him.

I promise you, if Tango had offered Jimmy a life instead of Ren, people wouldn't shut up about for MONTHS. But, because it's Ren, somehow the interaction isn't NEARLY as homoerotic??? I understand having NOTP's, but the Jimmy/Ren ship doesn't even show up ONCE on ao3. Zero fics. ZE-RO. There's no reason to hate something that doesn't even exist.

This same concept applies for Flower Husbands as well- not just in Wild Life, and Secret Life and Limited Life and Last Life and Real Life though- in Empires.

I have no clue about Empires Season 1, but they barely interacted in Empires Season 2- and yet the amount of ship art I sift through on a weekly basis for my side blog is actually insane. Yeah, the few interactions WERE important, but I think Scott only flirted (in video) with Jimmy maaybbeeee three times. I have no idea what the count of that for streaming is, but I swear it is not enough to keep that number so inflated.

Although, honestly, this problem might just be affecting me because of my personal view on shipping- if it's in a context where it doesn't make sense for the characters to be romantically engaged, I won't read it or write it.

For example, my beloved Solidwood! I mostly get their vibes or read their fics from the following series: Evo, Last Life, New Life, Empires2, Secret Life. That's because those settings make sense! They are active, they are engaged, they have near constant interactions or very close base locations. It makes SENSE for them to be shipped. However, if you showed me art or fic of them in, say, Limited Life, I'd furrow my brow and tilt my head and say "no, that doesn't do anything for me." BECAUSE THEY HAVE ZERO REASON TO BE INVESTED ROMANTICALLY IN ONE ANOTHER THERE, AS A STAND ALONE SETTING.

Most of the major Jimmy ships, though, don't follow this rule. I can understand loving a ship so much you want to see it everywhere- but, I promise you, stepping back and looking at which characters actually have chemistry regarding the new setting and social system will do wonders... you won't have to think of new Au's to insert your favorite ship into a new setting... all ships will be your favorite ship (unless they give you the ick). Join the multishiper hivemind /j

No but honestly it's gotten to the point where I will like or dislike a creator/character of theirs by what ship is their most popular given the context of the setting. Like, Tango in Double Life? Awww the sweetie!! I love him :) and then Tango in Empires2 sets off alarm bells in my brain screaming at me. He is NOT meant to be here bringing that ship here, this is NOT its territory. Same problem for Scott in nearly damn near every SMP both Jimmy and him are in... except Wild Life because he's actually been pretty nice and not condescending or forcing on Jimmy. I guess also power imbalances in how fans view them is a major no-go for me...

Idk if you read this whole thing thanks I guess... for anymore needed context I am a Jimmy rarepair obsessed multishiper.

TLDR; Lots of popular ships are inserted into settings without a thought for what that would mean for the setting and any changes in the established social connections, which gives OP the ick. I'm also not policing ships I'm just begging people to please either understand more ships using in setting context or list their AU details in the summaries of the fics. This goes hand in hand with misinterpreting characters in writing also... the more ships you like the more characters you will get to get good at writing!!!!

[11queensupreme11]

I have a few stupid questions: whenever percy went to New York with Beelzebub, were people staring at her just because she was beautiful? Like, could they get the feeling that she wasn't human or something like that because of her looks (almost like she is too beautiful to be human)? If it were another demigod that appeared, say Thalia or Nico, Would the people of that world stare at them because they could just Tell that they aren't human?

I'm only asking cuz I just remembered that that world doesn't have the Mist, so the mythological world wouldn't be hidden if they acrually cared enough to go to earth😅

her faceclaim's ✨adriana lima��� and even tho she doesn't exist in ror verse, she's still HOT AF so you best believe they were awed by her hotness 😫😫

okay on a serious note 😂 they were staring mostly because of beelzebub. like, this dude is HOT AS HELL and he's not even TRYING to blend in with the humans like some of the pjo gods do. he doesn't try to change his clothes to more average, modern day clothes, doesn't put any "human flaws" on his appearance to look more normal, he is 100% authentic self (minus the demon fly appearance thing lol) so he is inhumanely gorgeous and everyone can see it 🤤 BUT he's also the devil so even tho he's hot, ppl can still feel that uneasy, terrifying, unsettling aura around him so they stay away even tho there's also simultaneously compelled to get close

that's when they notice percy. yeah she's hot too, but it's not the same way as the gods whose appearances are so inhumanely "perfect" that ppl are awed, but also a little unsettled because "how tf is it humanely possible to look THIS perfect???". have you guys read the twilight series??? if you recall how the vampires were always given this poetic, very detailed description of their beauty and perfection, it's pretty much the same as the gods 😂😂 not only that, but their mannerisms are also eerily perfect and precise (for most of them anyway).

but they also stared at her because of how obviously rich she appeared to be. she was wearing a really really beautiful dress that seemed impossible to be real AND it was decorated with pearls, which is impossible to get in ror verse (because poseidon's a territorial meanie). she was beautiful + rich, with an insanely gorgeous god-tier (little did they know lol) "husband" 😂

so yeah, percy's hot but not inhumanely perfect like the gods are. the same case with the demigods, their physical appearances vary but the humans aren't gonna look at them and think "omg they're SO beautiful and perfect, there's no way they're human 😳". sure some of them could have unique features that humans don't have (hazel having gold eyes, piper's rainbow eyes, etc.), but nothing about their appearances really scream "yup, i'm not human!"

[mrowsters]

Well, i dont have all the answers but i really think it depends on which iteration of transformers you wanna pull from to compare to Transformers One. I have some I know about as well as some speculation as to what Orion could have meant below the cut. (I got a bit carried away. Im sorry in advance) i hope it helps tho! :3

Bayverse Transformers (the movies) have all life come from the Allspark, which holds literally all life and knowledge of the planet. (Which is why Sam goes a bit insane when he touches it). This includes anyone who lived and anyone who will ever live as a Cybertonian. A bit catch-all relic, really. That is why it's such a big deal in the movies. It has the knowledge to revitalize Cybertrons people, to create new life (ie sparklings, or baby transformers) and to restore the planet itself. The Allspark, in this iteration, creates sparks, thus creating new transformers from the planet itself. From what i understand, transformers don't come out lookin like lil baby blobs but rather fully formed bots who come up from the Well of the Allspark.

In the IDW verse we have this scene from Cliffjumpers spotlight in "Transformers Galaxies Vol. 6"

This is just me pulling from my own collection here. Im sure there is a more detailed description of how bots were "born" but here a bot comes from the planet itself. (You can see here that they throw a huge party, but ehh, not for Cliff 😔) Now, im not sure if an artifact is involved with the creation of bots in this iteration or if they simply come from the well. I'm still learning and there is a LOT of ground to cover.

It is standard though, that a "sparkling" gets a mentor(s) which we see with Gauge, Greenlight, and Arcee in Transformers Galaxies vol. 7-9 and Transformers A Bold New Era issue 18. The basic premise is these Mentors guide the sparkling in life until they reach a certain age. (Sidenote- i recommend these they are very good if you want to see mentors and sparkling relationships).

This isn't something that was done in Transformers One. Which was surprising to me personally because, how the hell are they gonna learn what they need to know? Until we have more information, I'm assuming they are trained after they emerge from the Planet, (however they do so, but I'll get into that in a minute), and the rest is just from institutional knowledge from their fellow miners.

Here, in this reprint of the Gen One comic i was able to get my hands on they say life came from "interactions with naturally occurring gears, levers, and pulleys that miraculously brought forth sentient beings."

Now, full disclaimer here, I'm very new to Gen 1. So this is all I feel confident enough to say since I'm still learning about the series itself. ( I just finished season one of the Gen1 cartoon yesterday:3). But it seems that here it was pure chance. But again, take me with a grain of salt.

I believe sparklings come from the Well in Transformers Prime, but I haven't rewatched that series yet. From what I remember, they come from Primus -> to the Well -> then emerge in the temple (surrounding the Well) into Cybertronian society. But again, please fact check me its been a minute. But basically, once their planet died so did the chance of having any new sparklings come from the core of the planet. No energon means no Well, which means no new sparks.

This is a theme you seen often in Transformers. Cybertonians are intrinsically tied to their planet, so when the war kills the planet it also signs the death warrant on their species since they themselves come from the planets core, (which in most iterations is Primus but thats another bag of beans).

Transformers One doesn't give us a lot to work with when it comes to definitively saying where newsparks come from but it Does give us clues.

I think the biggest clue we have is the relationship between the Matrix of Leadership and the Well where energon flows throughout the planet. Orion and the miners, and presumably others, were all forged while the Well was dry because the Matrix was missing. This means that no new sparks are tied to the Well. Or more aptly, energon does not have to be flowing from the Well for Newsparks to form. Now, newsparks are still tied to the planet, most definitely, because they rely on energon to survive, etc, etc.

Another clue is the archive Orion breaks into. It states the Primus forged the 13 primes and such. Its been a minute since ive seen the movie, but they are most likely stating this as a literal fact. Primus most likely did form the Primes with his own two hands.

Now from here on out is where I speculate as to what "born" may mean. That being said, it is likely that within the lore of Transformers One that a holy site, (like the Great Pyramid above), tied to Primus is where newsparks are "born." It is likely, based on context clues, that Cybertronians believe they were also forged by Primus himself, and thus "born" from the spark of Primus (aka the core of the planet we see when Optimus is revived) -> maybe pass through a (currently) unknown relic -> to a temple -> released into society

I, personally, believe newsparks spawn at a site within Iacon. Let's call them Hotspots, where they emerge from the heart of Primus, are assigned a mentor, and then free to live in society.

What Sentinel did was go into these hotspots, no doubt a sacred and holy site where sparks are first lit, and took, randomly (i hope), the transformation cogs of sparklings yet to be "onlined" (or born) from the core of the planet.

I suppose a more literal translation from Orion saying born would be him saying Onlined. The very act of their sparks being lit, how we dont know as of yet but presumably from Primus' hand like the Primes, and emerging into Iacon is the act of "birth" he is referring to.

Another sidenote-

Another thing that seems to have taken a major blow is the lack of mentors seen in the movie. The miners, mostly if not all newsparks, have no mentor to tell them right from wrong. Which makes them extremely easy to control which Sentinel took advantage of.

I'm hoping to see older bots (aside from our dearly departed Alpha Trion. RIP) come into play in the sequel. That is, if they aren't all killed by the Quintessons or Sentinel's reign in Iacon.

Also, this is barely scratching the surface. There are a lot of ways Transformers come into being throughout the franchise. (I know i missed a ton). A good bet, though, would be that Transformers One will go for a mixture from the older iterations and make something new from it. I'm kinda excited to see where it goes, honestly.

Okay, Transformers fans, I need your help with a question that has been plaguing my mind since I watched Transformers One:

How are Transformers made?

Optimus at one point claims they're "born" but what does that mean? Does it literally mean pregnancy or is it a Blue Sky's Robots situation where they're made in factories or something?

To my knowledge we don't see child transformers on Iacon so that makes the most sense but I'm still not fully sure because I've heard in other Transformers series that there are half-human-half-Transformers out there so how the hell does that work?!

[nonbinary-androids]

Was thinking about The Iron Trial and wow. The Magisterium just really, fully, legally, whole-heartedly kidnapped Call, didn't they

[al-luviec]

I got so insanely mad while drawing this

+ closeup and normalness

[thekittyokat]

Hi! Please please please, could you tell me more about your coffin chain ideas?/nf

I am obsessed but barely anybody has jumped onto the ship yet and I am VERY new to the fandom so I wanna wait with making it myself until I know more lol. You are lowkey fueling this entire operations and I wanna thank you for that either way.

(rubs my paws together) you have no idea what you've unleashed anon i've been holding onto this ask specifically bc i've been sapping dopamine from it like a little leech waiting until i had time to hastily doodle up a little dynamics timeline for different stages of the ot4

i REALLY hope this makes sense . i feel the need to say this every time i post abt coffinchain but my ideas are rly specific and i've had time for them to infect my brain like mold so i'm defo ready to accept this all being rly niche and really just for me and like 3 other people

buuut if this little peek into my mind speaks to ANY of y'all i absolutely encourage implore and beg you to send me asks and ideas and whatnot about these 4 bastards literally whenever you want!!

TL;DR one half of the trauma bonded couple reaches out and forms an immediate kinship with the big scary guy that no one likes & convinces his petty boyfriend to let him fw them. then he starts bringing his deranged fbi otter around they start double-dating only for it to become a situationship and then the worst polycule ever

[tookishcombeferre]

I have a mentor like this. When my parents couldn’t make it to my dissertation in college, he sat in the front row with my (now) spouse to hear me give my presentation. I was nervous as crap because I hate public speaking. But, it was so helpful to see him.

We still email each other. He still knows more about my publications than my folks. He is absolutely invaluable to me as a friend and mentor.

I have a few other professors like this as well as teachers from high school who filled similar roles.

I’ve had that kind of relationship before with someone who is not blood, where there is a significant number of years between you, but they share your interests and they *always* show up. There’s a pot of tea on in the office, and they’re *always* there. There is something deeply paternal there. You really remember and respect those people because they become family. Straight up. The weird thing is they might not even think of themselves that way. But, you do.

So, to me, it’s personal? It’s a point of connection with the character? Not sure.

However, my “real” reason is because of the nature of historical apprenticeships and what that entails. Sofia and Cedric probably do have a more mutual father-daughter bond because I’m taking her apprenticeship at face value.

Apprentices, like squires and Knight Masters, would have been like literal servants to the people teaching them. That wasn’t a wrong detail. But, as such, if that kind of bond went on as the series progressed, which based on Sofia’s ability to cast complex spell work we can kind of infer it did, that friendship would have run *deep.*

The amount of time they would have spent together talking about magical theory, how things work, the nature of magic in the universe, all of that stuff. What he was teaching her would have gone well beyond just spell casting. Though, spell casting would have also been a part of it.

We can blame some of her ability to keep casting things without wearing out on the Amulet. But, the actual ability to get the spells right? That would have taken significant study on Sofia’s part.

So, like, a decent bit of what Sofia does in the finale? I’d say should reasonably be traced back to a true apprenticeship with Cedric.

As such, Sofia knows *a lot* about magic in ways her parents just don’t. Even aside from that, a lot of the problems and trauma she has faced in the series has been magical in nature. Roland’s understanding of magic extends to the breadth and depth of teaspoon. Miranda may be able to help Sofia through the emotions, but she also is not in tune with the ways of magic.

The literal only adult person in Sofia’s life who is going to understand all of the insanity she has been facing is Cedric.

As such, where is she going to process it? Probably him.

Eventually, we create families of choice based on necessity. Cedric sort of becomes the parent of choice because he has to. In part through and because of the generational chasm between them, he give her wisdom. He helps her understands the world in a way no one else can because the two of them see the magic of the world (literally) when no one else in the household sees it.

So, that’s my personal reasoning: historical apprenticeships and my own personal experiences with having intergenerational mentors of my own.

Question: Why do so many fans think of Cedric as Sofia's father figure? It seems very popular.

[thebestusernamepossible]

Literally going insane, might have to write fanfic for the first time in 2 years because the people™️ do not get my favorite female characters like I do and I feel the insurmountable urge to write her. I’m going to bite drywall why don’t ppl see her complexities. PLEASE STOP WRITING HER ETHIER AS DOMICILE MOM OR BITCH (or just for shipping) she is so so cool please guys please.

Also while I’m here, fandoms tendency to shove women in the ‘pure powerful goddess who can do no wrong’ box and then proceed to never give them an actual narrative role other than like ‘supportive’ or ‘took out a few background guys’. Like why DOES this incredibly badass and complex female character just get shunted into doinging some cool flips, getting praised about it (she’s the strongest fighter, so feminist wow) then never getting actnowleged as a 2 dimensional character.

I saw this a lot when I was in the Batman fandom, particularly with Cassandra Cain. She is a highly complex and interesting character, but in fandom she’s kind of shunted to ‘Badass therapy dog who takes care of the men’. Because even on the slight chance her backstory is brought up it’s always never delved into and mostly used to make her etheir more tragic and in need of support on a surface level or to let her be compassionate with the men characters who get their actual problems foucused on. It’s a unqiue kind of frustrating because it’s like almost letting the cool female character be cool, but it’s more like the idea of a badass women is shoved in your face, maybe joked about (or if we’re lucky she gets to beat up a few bad-guys), but ultimately treated like a cardboard cutout. Interestingly this actually isn’t entirely a female character thing, it’s also common with like old grandfather/grandmother characters and the elderly in general. But it’s usually badass women from what I see. :/ Why can’t fandom explore their stories (people do but why is it so much less), why can’t they be the prtags of cool AUs or time-travel fix-its, or crossover events

Idk I think I’m just frustrated, and I typed out more than I thought I would. Also Ive seen what happens to some other posts complaining about fandom misogyny, so please know if you’re a TERF, fuck off you have no place in this discussion. We will never agree, and frankly all of these points apply to canon Trans Women characters. Don’t say shit ill fucking end you.