#wasn't an episode that really hit me as much

[guiltycorp]

Even though I loved the writing of LoL Jayvik I really appreciate that Arcane is going for a different approach so far, makes things feel less predictable! Instead of ideological differences driving the divide between them it is more so that they are just... out of sync so far?? I mean, during last season Viktor even before his diagnosis was eagerly meddling with the Hexcore with little regard to safety, then straight up went for the illicit and damaging drug to facilitate the transformation process, then when he ran out of that drug he proceeded to try using Hexcore without it (when he already TESTED that on plants and should have known it would backfire) which killed Sky... At which point he went oh shit, ok, I should stop meddling with this thing and just die peacefully maybe. It's not very clear how much of that he told Jayce aside from making him promise to destroy the Hexcore, but Jayce's surprised reaction in s2 when hearing about Sky makes me think it wasn't much at all...? So Jayce doesn't feel as much of an asshole for, once again, going against Viktor's explicit wishes. He pretty much never has the full picture before being forced to make a decision! Idk it makes him very sympathetic to me ngl, just feeling more and more guilt but continuing to fuck up due to lack of knowledge and experience, is that not relatable? And aside from being entirely unprepared for Viktor's death even after s1 I think it's like Jinx says in this Act too, it was something he could fix for once... Perhaps this is why he agrees to the use of Hextech weapons, too, feeling like it's the only thing he can do to 'help' the people he cares about and protect himself too (I guess killing just 1 defenseless child wasn't enough of a learning moment for him lmao). Despite again, this going very much against Viktor's wishes (and Mel's!! we didn't get her with Jayce after this but I imagine she's not very happy with him either... Viktor&Mel team up when). This time Jayce is the one just going for it and hoping for the best despite knowing very little of how it works. I also love how a lot of us in the fandom and also Singed in the series assumed Jayce would be appalled by Viktor's experiments but instead... he immediately goes even further :D And when Viktor wakes up and goes bye Jayce is like ?? but then by the end of the next episode he starts to realise that ohh alright so maybe yeah they should have stopped... Who'd have thunk. I'm not super up to date with League lore but is it really that difficult to find a sane mage for consultation purposes? ...Also I really doubt that hitting that thing (wild rune?) with his hextech-powered hammer was a good move lmao and yet even in this it seems similar to what Viktor is currently doing. Both continue to use the arcane to try and fix things, Jayce through violence and Viktor through transmutation, but it kind of seems like the same kind of mistake. (they are just pretty bad scientists and always have been and i love that for them lmao)

[paperstorm]

Loved all your thoughts on Carlos this episode. Any thoughts on TK?

Sometimes I keep my thoughts on TK to myself a little more because he hits very close to home for me. But I will say that when you've been through the kind of things TK has been through, milestone birthdays can hit really weird because suddenly you're at an age that you always assumed you'd never live to see and it feels like being lost at sea a little bit. It's hard to plan for the future when you don't believe you're going to have one, so I bet TK spent a lot of time in his 20s thinking that conceptualizing himself in his 30s or 40s or 50s was pointless because he might not make it that far, the ideas of what kind of life he would want probably always a little fuzzy and a little too painful to even dwell on. I bet he woke up the morning of his birthday full of some complicated emotions. Gratitude and happiness but also maybe some sorrow for the time wasted or maybe for the things he could've accomplished by 30 if he wasn't too sick to dream of a happy ending for himself. But he also woke up next to his husband.

It's so genuinely beautiful to look back and see how far this character has come, to think that the pilot of this show opened with him trying to end his life over a man who he thought incorrectly was his soulmate, thinking he had nothing left worth living for, not knowing all the wonderful, amazing, beautiful things that were waiting just ahead for him, if he could just hang on long enough to catch them. TK spent a lot of his life thinking he doesn't really matter all that much, and look at him now. He's crafted a life for himself out of grit and bloody knuckles and relentless optimism, he has a career that lets him turn all that pain into saving people so they too can get their second chances, he has so many people who care about him and wanted to celebrate his birthday (and his wedding, and his engagement, and his sobriety), he has two parents fighting over who loves him more, he has a husband who thinks he hangs the moon and all the stars and wants to hold him close and dance with him in the home they've built together. He is completely surrounded by love. And like Wyatt was saying to that woman on the bridge, TK as a character is such a wonderful display of the fact that even the biggest bumps in the road don't have to be the end of our stories. If we're brave enough to keep fighting, they can be the beginnings of journeys we weren't expecting but might lead somewhere much better than where we were heading before.

[rita-repulsa-ke]

Ritual of the Rose - Ch2

Agatha crossed her arms, but Rio could see her evaluating, calculating, deciding how she was going to get herself out of this one. She softened, ran her fingers through her hair in a way that, despite herself, caught Rio's attention, made her press her teeth into her bottom lip. "Come on," Agatha said, eyes downcast, pouting ever-so-slightly. "You don't really want to hurt me, do you?"

Fic Summary: Changes the events of the last episode. Instead, Agatha swears a vow and prepares to go on one final adventure with Death.

Part 1 here

I feel like I should say at this point that I know next to nothing about the mcu, so this fic will be taking only the events of Wandavision and Agatha All Along as canon and then just making things up.

Chapter 2 - Rio Bites

Death returned. She did not come on black wings or holding a scythe. She was neither robed nor skeletal. Between one breath and the next, she was simply there.

"Hi, baby," she said, sprawling in Agatha's yard, looking around with interest. "You know, I kind of like it? It's a little overgrown, little wild, clearly tended by someone who has no idea what they're doing, but that makes it feel so much more authentic. Like a real person lived here, though of course, that hasn't really been true for a while, has it, Detective?”

Agatha gave her a deeply unamused look, and she laughed, too sharp, too loud, not even particularly amused, and then twisted her head around at a wholly unnatural angle to meet Agatha's eyes with hers. "So what's the plan, Agatha? Where's the catch?" She reached out, started to prod Agatha's cheek and the other woman came to standing before she could make contact.

"No catch," Agatha said, not looking at her and that was so funny that all she could do was snicker.

"There's always a catch," she said, as she watched Agatha. She never stopped watching Agatha, except for a very unpleasant time when Agatha had used the Darkhold to hide from her. She had still looked, of course, looked and looked and looked. She would never give up on Agatha.

And eventually she had found her, in trouble as always, and freed her. Did she get any thanks for that?

Of course not. Agatha Harkness didn't know how to say thank you. It simply wasn't in her vocabulary. "Out of curiosity, how are you planning to wriggle your way out of this one?" Rio asked, coming to her feet without bothering with knees. She’d never quite gotten the hang of knees.

Agatha glanced back at her, head tilted slightly, a smile tugging at her lips like it wasn't sure whether it wanted to stay. "If you're so sure I'm going to wriggle out of it, why'd you agree?"

Rio closed the distance between them in less than a breath, her hand cupping Agatha's cheek. "Because I love you," she reminded the other woman. And then, because she did love Agatha, but there was only so much anyone could take, cruelty spanning centuries, she added, "I love you enough to gift you time."

The blast of purple magic that hit her in the chest was honestly nostalgic, and she skidded backwards without ever quite making contact with the ground. "I do like you more like this," she admitted. "I've missed your powers. It makes you feisty. So what did you tell the kid?"

"Oh you know," Agatha said, waving her hand through the air with lazy, dismissive contempt. "Sentimental stuff. Be good, don't do anything I wouldn't do, that sort of thing."

"Wow. That is not even a good lie. You aren't even trying," Rio said and she's surprised to find that she's a little annoyed about that, too, that Agatha didn’t feel the need to put in any effort in her lies.

"Why should I? You wouldn’t believe me regardless,” Agatha said, turning and strolling into the house. "Anyway, forget the kid. We've got a year to find and defeat one of the most powerful magic users alive so I can get my book back."

Rio followed, as she had for many years, Death always one step behind Agatha Harkness. "And then what? You run again?"

"The ritual doesn't work like that and you know it. It will kill me even if you can't. And then I'm all yours," Agatha said.

That was how it should work, on paper, in magical theory. There was no way Rio was trusting that. Agatha always lied. "So where's the catch?" she repeated, perching on the arm of Agatha's couch.

"Believe me or don't, but you agreed to it and your part is null and void if you don't help," Agatha snapped. "So can we get on with it, please?"

For a moment, nostalgia threatened to choke Rio. This was Agatha as she remembered her, impatient, demanding, moving from one objective to the other, always seeking power, always hungry for more. She found herself caught by it, leaning forward, and remembering one more of Agatha's endless series of manipulations, Agatha's bleeding fingers across her lip. "When I left you with the boy…"

"Hmm?" Agatha said, pretending innocence. Rio stared her down and she held up her fingers, trying and failing to look even slightly regretful. "Oh, the bleeding stopped. What a shame."

Rio's knife was instantly in her hand. "I could fix that."

Agatha's fingers crackled with power. "Try it," she crooned. "I'm not so vulnerable anymore."

Rio slipped to her feet, sauntered forward. "Do you really want to do this, Ags? Without the Darkhold, you know you can't beat me. We can play it out though, if you like. I owe you, after all. Maybe one cut for each year you disappeared on me?" She spun the knife in her hand, comfortable, familiar. She very much did want to hurt Agatha, to seek weregild in blood for all the suffering her beloved had inflicted on her over the centuries.

Agatha crossed her arms, but Rio could see her evaluating, calculating, deciding how she was going to get herself out of this one. She softened, ran her fingers through her hair in a way that, despite herself, caught Rio's attention, made her press her teeth into her bottom lip. "Come on," Agatha said, eyes downcast, pouting ever-so-slightly. "You don't really want to hurt me, do you?"

"No, Ags, I don't really want to hurt you. What I really want, you won't give me. Hurting you isn't a terrible consolation prize, though."

Agatha huffed, her arms going tighter around herself. She was afraid, a coward as always. She'd never liked anything that could touch her, get past her defenses.

And, more simply, she didn’t like pain.

Well, neither did Rio, but that hadn't stopped Agatha from wounding and scarring her for centuries.

"Can we maybe talk about it?" Agatha suggested, always her way out. Agatha's battlefield was words, endless words, all of them lies.

"What else is there to say, hmm? What different, exciting new ways of saying you hate me have you come up with this time?" she'd stopped in front of Agatha, and she could feel herself smiling, a big grin she noticed Agatha didn't seem to want to look at for too long.

Agatha hesitated, shrugged, then stepped forward, reached out and here was Agatha's most potent weapon, the way her fingers brushed through Rio's hair and her hand closed on the back of Rio's neck, tugging her closer. And of course, Rio could have used the knife here, with so little space between them, but Agatha's other arm had looped around her waist and she was so close, so alive, so warm, so much herself, that instead of stabbing the other woman, the sensible, sane decision, she found that she was nuzzling against Agatha's neck, trying to bury herself in this sensation before it went away again.

Agatha tilted her head back, moaned softly and that sound undid Death entirely, a soft whimper escaping from between teeth she seemed to be clenching. Agatha petted her soothingly—

And then yelped as Rio's teeth bit and twisted hard enough to draw blood. Rio ran her tongue over the wound, gathered her beloved's lifeblood, the familiar, intimate taste of Agatha in her mouth, copper and magic and relentless will, then pulled back to smile humorlessly up at Agatha. "There," she said. "Price paid."

Agatha glowered at her, hand clapped to her neck even though the wound had already healed. "Savage," she murmured and Rio burst into shrill hysterics.

"You. Should. Talk," she said, sprawling on Agatha's couch, tossing her knife from hand to hand. "So. The book."

Agatha nodded, pulling up a kitchen chair with magic, perhaps to remind herself that she could. "Wanda has it."

"The Scarlet Witch. Destroyer of worlds," Rio murmured. "So where is she?"

"I was hoping you would know," Agatha admitted.

"She's not actively destroying any worlds, I'm afraid. I don't keep track of most mortals, they generally come to me." She gave Agatha a smile. "Mostly just you."

Agatha faked gagging and that, too, was painfully familiar. "All right, so first step is we find her."

"Didn't she kick your ass last time?"

"Yes, but I didn't have Death on my side," Agatha said, favoring Rio with a smile of her own, a smile that hinted at a promise Rio knew she would never fulfill. "Still, even for both of us, she's going to be a lot to handle, especially with the Darkhold."

"So where's the kid figure in, Ags?"

Agatha didn't flinch, but it was there, a tightening of her jaw, a tug at the edge of her lips. "Insurance. If everything else fails, we can always trade the boy."

"Very you," Rio approved. "But you let him go. Why?"

Agatha considered, then got up and paced over to sit next to Rio. Rio felt herself go overly still, less certain how to handle Agatha in such close proximity, even more so as Agatha's hand settled on her knee, intimate and nostalgic. "Because, Rio, my darling, if you need someone to trust you at a critical juncture in the future, sometimes you have to pretend that you’re on their side."

Rio rolled her eyes, but it was a weak response, all of her attention fixed on that hand and that word, darling, rolling off Agatha’s lying tongue. She knew exactly what Agatha was doing. It still worked every time. "Nothing to do with the fact that you're attached?"

Agatha snorted loudly. "Me? To that boy? No. He's useful, though. The son of the Scarlet Witch."

"Still an abomination," Rio said, and thought, I bet you want me to forget that. I bet you want me to forget that there's another one. I haven't.

But I don't need to play my whole hand at once either.

"Sure, sure, but can we deal with what's more important here first?"

"Your plan?"

"That's right. My plan," Agatha said as she leaned too close, her smile wicked and crazed and so, so beautiful. Self-centered as always, Rio thought, unable to suppress the wave of affection that accompanied that thought.

With Agatha so close. Rio couldn't resist, she darted in to steal a kiss, then howled with humorless laughter as Agatha jerked away, her expression that of someone who'd turned the corner and made eye contact with a dead mouse. "You, you, you," Rio singsonged. "Who else would Agatha Harkness think of, other than herself?" She tossed her knife up, caught it too close to Agatha's face and wasn't sure whether to be happy or sad when it made the other woman scoot back, putting more space between them. "But you know, there isn't only one Darkhold."

"Of course I know that," Agatha said. "But the others are lost to—" she paused, realized where this must be going. "…Rio, you wouldn't lie to me, would you?"

"Not about this," Rio said, amused at the implication she'd ever been the one who lied. "I agreed to help, didn't I? Aid given freely."

"…You never mentioned this before."

"I didn't know when we were together. After that, I had a vested interest in not giving you powerful artifacts filled with dark magic. …Also, it is rumored to drive people mad."

"Weak people," Agatha said instantly. "Sheep. Do I look mad to you?"

Rio didn't try to stop herself from laughing. "Nooo comment."

Agatha fixed her with a long-suffering look. "Yes, yes, you're very funny."

"You know you love it," she said and Agatha did the fake-gagging thing again, which only made her giggle. "You already used that one twice," she pointed out and Agatha—

It wasn't fair of Agatha to smile like she meant it, a reluctant tug of her lips into a very pretty shape. "Oooops. I'll have to vary it up. Wouldn't want you to get bored with my disgusted reactions."

For a moment, their eyes met and no time had passed at all.

I love you, Agatha Harkness, Rio thought. And I know you still love me.

Then Agatha's lip curled in a sneer and she looked away, settling with her head on her hand on the far end of the couch. "Another copy of the Darkhold? Really?"

"Really. If you don't want to tangle with the Scarlet Witch."

"I'm not scared, you know," Agatha clarified, suspiciously like someone who was scared. "But she's not going to be easy. So, if there's an easier way—"

"Of course. You're the bravest person I know," Rio said, sprawling across the couch toward Agatha, fully expecting Agatha to run, because Agatha always ran.

Then, somehow, her head was in Agatha's lap.

She stared up and Agatha glanced down, gave her a twisted grin and a shrug, then looked away again, still brooding. "Tell me about it. The other one."

Right. Words. Rio knew how to do words. "The usual. Cursed cave in a treacherous mountain protected by ancient guardian spirits from some long-dead order."

Agatha's glance at her this time was brimming with disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me," she said. "Come on, really?"

Rio shrugged. "I don't make the rules."

"Seems too easy."

"How'd you get it the first time?" she asked and was surprised when Agatha went too still. There was a story here, one she didn't know.

From the way the other woman’s pulse flicked in her throat, one Agatha didn't want to discuss. More and more interesting.

"Something very similar," Agatha said, a little too fast. "Ancient crypt, all these terrible magic traps…"

"Riiiight," Rio said, doubtful, but not inclined to push yet, because—

Well, because her head was in Agatha's lap.

"Anyway, doesn't matter now. You're sure it's there?"

"No," Rio admitted. "But several people told me it was, after they died trying to reach it. …This will be dangerous, you know."

Agatha's fingers carded through her hair and she couldn't stop herself from exhaling, eyes falling shut. "You'll help keep me safe, won't you?"

Manipulative monster, Rio thought, with something akin to pride. "Mm, I have to. But I can't say I'll be devastated if anything happens to you." Her eyes flicked open and she smiled humorlessly. "After all, I get my prize either way."

Agatha stared down at her, then tugged her hand out of Rio's hair and wiped it perfunctorily on the side of the couch before standing up, spilling Rio off her.

"Oooh, touchy," Rio said, giggling from her new spot on the floor.

“You wish,” Agatha snapped. “Fine, we have a year. We’ll try it your way first.”

“Our last big adventure.”

Agatha gave her a crooked, vicious smile that would have made anyone doubt the other woman’s sanity. “Don’t say it like that,” she said, pretending to sulk, but the tone too obviously mocking. “You might get what you want yet.”

Rio came to her feet, too close. “What I want, Agatha, is you dead.” Almost as much as she wanted Agatha's fingers back in her hair.

“And what happens after that?” Agatha asked, a question she'd asked a hundred times.

Rio answered the same way she'd always answered. "Come and see."

"Not yet," Agatha said, dismissive. "I'm not done yet. Now, tell me where this cave is."

If you'd like to read more stuff I've written for Agatha All Along, I'm just going to link to the tag on my blog, there's a bunch at this point.

[thevegetablewhichnoonedaresname]

I'm starting Mission to Zyxx Season 5 now, and I have feelings about that.

First, it generally scares me when people hype anything up at all because there is no guarantee that anyone values the exact same thing I do to the same degree. Even if I trust the creators of a thing to value something and try to do right by it, that doesn't always necessarily mean it will be successful, especially if that involves doing something wildly different than what made it good in the first place (I have been burned this way before). I guess I'm just hoping they continue the format of goofy improv shenanigans for the majority of it with something more planned and emotional in the finale if they want, like they've been doing all along. I'd think they would, and I've heard nothing bad about the ending, but I guess it still makes me nervous because I'm so close to the end and I want it so badly to stick the landing. I'm setting my expectations on the floor so I can be surprised instead of disappointed, but honestly, I don't need it to be better, I just need it to be on par with the rest.

Second, and more briefly, I'm happy it's (hopefully) ending before it has a chance to decline. I am so on board with that philosophy. But on the other hand, finishing a thing that I really, really like and knowing there's not another one out there gives me a special kind of heartache. Like, I know there will be other good media, and stuff that's good and unique in other ways, but I know for a fact that there are no other podcasts out there that have the same mix of a balance of off-the-wall improv and structured narrative, quality comedy, fantastical sci-fi setting and loveable characters, and high quality production. There are other things out there with many of those qualities, but nothing that checks every one of those boxes. It's a lightning-in-a-bottle thing that very much feels like the right people had to be in the right place at the right time to do it. Attempts to do it again would feel hollow because it had to be born out of necessity and passion and the talents of the people involved, so if you switch out the people it loses the reasons it's great, and if the same people tried to do it again it'd feel tired. That makes me so, so grateful it exists, but also so, so sad that it doesn't, and I'm 80% of the way done. When it's over, it's over.

Anyway. Now that that's all out there, I'm just gonna finish listening and have fun. Wish me luck.

[stereotypical-jew]

okay. so. i did not vibe with the latest doctor who episode a lot? and idk why exactly. i did still enjoy it for the most part! do love that we're getting more explicit queer romance on the show, but idk it didn't feel...genuine? especially with the doctor saying that ruby's his best friend but then abandoning her to aliens for most of the episode. i'm like really feeling that the overarching plot must be about storytelling. like especially all the blatant references to bridgerton INCLUDING the bad guys and poker face covers. and the teaser line about it being the doctor's life they're playing out. i'm hoping that the arc is kind of about how something (pantheon character?) is kind of controlling the doctor/ruby's story to hit the beats it's supposed to bc its tv but is doing so in a non-organic way which is why the season feels so disjointed and very telling-not-showing. also the weird 6 month time jump between Space Babies and Boom. otherwise i'mgonna feel like it was just kind of poorly written. like! to be clear! i am still enjoying the show! but not as much as i have other seasons

[beauzos]

last thing i’ll say about Clone High for now: i know a lot of people hated episode 1 (esp after it leaked online a couple months ago) bcs it was all about Cancel Culture after the 2003 clones have to readjust to 2023 culture, but honestly it didn’t bother me. some of it was kinda ~cringe~ ig but honestly it did a good job not just being like “cancel culture bad!!!” in that boring one-note conservative way a lot of shows do and showed the absurdity of all sides ig?

which is a centrist ass opinion to have i know but it’s a funnie comedy show and thats rly the best we can do in a show like this imo. Abe wasn’t right (they def showed that through Topher Bus and Ivan the Terrible supporting him through it but being terrible people that he shouldn’t get close with), the way the new clones handled Abe having a lot of outdated lingo and opinions wasn’t right, and the way Joan reacted wasn’t right either. funny enough i think Confucius was the one who was closest to getting it right, he just gets bogged down with his obsession with tiktok clout or whatever just to show how apologies / cancellation get wrapped up in this pageantry that’s pretty damn worthless ultimately

the episode could’ve been much stronger but i didn’t find it wildly cringe the way a lot of people did. it was just mad clunky like all the fucking episodes have been.

[baked-hylian]

why does each new season give me interesting crumbs in between annoying writing choices?

I finally watched the new season of tdp (didn't even know it was out) and I gotta say whatever writers left should come back please

episode one was extremely stale, maybe it's largely because I don't like how they've been writing Rayla and Callum's relationship, but it felt so forced and unnecessary of an episode all to force a "I trust her unconditionally" type of plot that doesn't even work with the information she's been hiding from Callum. Like why even hide what happened to her parents and Runaan? By now everyone is mostly aware of why the Moonshadow elves put the hit on Harrow, Rayla has been forgiven for her part in it. What purpose did that serve to the narrative other than to force the unconditional trust point that episode. A point that could have been done using the pirate town and her potentially having an arrest warrant from there, causing friction between the humans that still don't trust elves and Callum who doesn't ask her about the warrant, merely trusts that there is a good reason for it. I did really like Domina Profundis' design from the episode and I am still salty about the crap with the elf and human camp from the previous season and had to be reminded of it when Karim appeared.

episode two was better because of Claudia and Terry. Terry is great for her, love him for that, but I do dislike how much he shifts the tone during Claudia's scene considering she seems to be either being set up to stay a permanent enemy or perhaps episode nine will be her rock bottom before taking a different path. Also love all the shit going on in Viren's mind palace, poor guy needs a break.

episode three was interesting. I like the slow set up with Karim working towards taking back the kingdom via his first follower. I also really enjoyed the scenes with Amaya but it's Amaya and really hard not to like her. it does seem like tone is a difficult thing for the series to balance, and even by episode three it felt like whiplash at times between implied horrible thing and poop jokes.

episode four was probably the best of the first half of the season. It was so obvious that the book drop was going to be used as a makeshift fortress to keep out the corrupted banthers. However the episode just got laughable when the library became overrun with them. Would have been nice and cool of them to turn it into more of a zombie movie-esque situation and have corrupted elves and other animals appear, maybe even a dragon. also a little confused on how fast the corruption is supposed to work but hey, for plot reasons we need Zubeia to not become completely infected instantly, instead draw it out for several days/episodes for drama (same as the drama of whether or not Amaya and Corvus lived)

episode five was extremely predictable. Of course the first old elf ocean mage that the group meets is the one they need. We can't make this journey too complicated and heaven forbid that we take a moment to do anything, but maybe I'm still salty from the previous episode cause it seemed pretty far fetched that Zubeia couldn't just annihilate the corrupted banthers with ease and instead had to abandon Amaya and Corvus, because.... Amaya yelled for the first time on screen? BUT it did introduce my new favourite bad bitch Kim'dael, a bloodmoon shadow elf with some very interesting lore that I would have loved to see hinted at more when we were first visiting their forest.

episode six by far was one of my favourites introducing Captain Finnegrin but alas, all good things must come to an end because by episode eight he's dealt with like he was a stereotypical bully in a high school movie instead of a fearsome pirate captain.

episode seven was most interesting at two points. Janai being kidnapped by Kim'dael and the reveal of Finnegrin's ship being a giant hermit crab with a ship built around it. That was pretty sick, along with Callum literally stealing the wind from Finnegrin's ship prior to the crab reveal.

episode eight gets disappointing though with the way everything wrapped up with Finnegrin. I think I was hoping too much for that little thread of Finnegrin wanting to kill the ocean arch dragon due to wanting revenge for his first crab ship being killed by her. Really interesting, especially when he finally got the info he wanted from Callum about dark magic strong enough to kill an arch dragon. I thought it'd be really cool to see him return again, maybe even united with other antagonists at some point. BUT nope. Instead Soren uses the power of being a chill dude to convince Elmer he deserves to be treated better, and it worked somehow. Idk you'd figure a man who has been pirating over 40+ would maybe have had one or two actually loyal crew and not a bunch of essentially slaves. Seriously those kids would have been so fucked if Finnegrin had had some truly loyal men.

and lastly episode nine. Just poor Claudia, she really deserves the support she gets from Terry. Girl just wants to keep her family together. Was NOT expecting her to get her leg cut off in the confrontation, hopefully that sticks and she does some funky dark magic prosthetic for it. However the episode has left me wondering if they'll actually straight up kill Viran and use that to drive Claudia completely to the dark side, blaming Katolis and elves and dragons alike for getting in the way of her protecting her family, or will Viren live and try to walk Claudia back from the darkness? As it stands, I can totally see Aaravos forcing the dark magic spell to make Viren's resurrection permanent, but I do wonder if that was the only reason he created their freaky moth son or if there is more to that still.

[lisbonsteresa]

you don't get how crazy i'm going over this

[twig---verginix]

swear to god i'm just gonna stop watching the endings to shows i like. good shows need to get cancelled on cliffhangers forever

[dottyistired]

The missing Journal 3 pages in TBOB are so interesting to me in further contextualizing Ford's mindset of shame regarding Bill. We'd gotten a snippet of it in the original J3 release:

But Bill shows us the less pragmatic motivations behind his actions, the mushy feely stuff he was too embarrassed to properly journal, putting certain series events into new context. Particularly this scene where after a whole episode of dancing around it, he finally opens up to Dipper about the nature of their relationship:

"Bill wasn't always my enemy, Dipper. I used to think he was my friend, long long ago..."

But does he really tell the full truth here? The cat's out of the bag, Dipper knows they had a deal, there's no reason not to tell everything. But Ford proceeds to explain his reasoning for summoning Bill as a purely practical, scientifically-driven one.

"I had hit a roadblock on my investigation of Gravity Falls. Until I found some mysterious writing in a cave. Ancient incantations about a being with answers. It warned me not to read them, but I was desperate."

Desperate...for what? Ford would have us believe it was for the sake of knowledge. Yet TBOB shows us that this is the entry immediately preceding his and Bill's first meeting.

Ford isn't some unfeeling robot powered solely by knowledge, he has human needs. He was lonely, lonely enough to summon a demon for companionship. A companionship so intimate, he describes his meeting Bill as the best day of his life, and laments the periods of absence from him.

That desire for intimacy is ultimately what drove him, and even with all his dirty laundry laid out he can't admit that part to Dipper. Maybe he doesn't even realize it himself, at least not until the post-Weirdmaggedon sections of TBOB:

Under the shame of unleashing Bill Cipher's destruction on the world, there's a much deeper shame: that Stanford Pines is not a lone-wolf, unfeeling sci-fi hero, but a fallible human being, capable of illogical sentimentality and longing for approval and (in)human connection. The exact nature of this sentimentality and longing is left to interpretation, but the efforts he goes to to conceal it make me lean towards something beyond platonic. Alex Hirsch's own words might support this:

"I think he is deeply, deeply hiding from his real feelings about things, because at some point early on, he decided that he could run from hurt by achievement and by creation, and has dug that hole so deep that he has no relationships. He doesn't have friendships, he doesn't have romantic relationships, he is someone trapped in a tower of his own mind and estranged. Ford shows none of that. He has sublimated himself romantically so, so deeply. (…) I really thought of Ford kind of like Tesla in that realm.”

TL;DR Ford is up in his feelings about Bill and repressing hard. This is also eerily reminiscent of the self-blame abuse survivors engage in, the hesitance to tell others, and shame over persisting feelings for their abuser.

[idolomantises]

Wasn't sure when it would be the best time to discuss this, but since the ending is drawing near... yes, Bugtopia is ending.

It was a decision I really wrestled with myself for months over it, before finally concluding that letting it end after 40 episodes was the better option. Just to be clear, webtoons did not force me to end the series. They even offered to give me a pay raise to continue the series. It was my decision due to a multitude of personal factors. I'll just repeat what I said on my patreon:

I just want to say, first of all, thank you all so much for patiently waiting for my series to release and for supporting my work as I began developing the series. Bugtopia was a series I genuinely loved and adored and it made me feel so incredibly happy that people were turning their heads towards a series about weird bugs and their natural lives.

However, as you can probably guess, it pains me to say that I am concluding the series after season 1. I had 4 seasons planned with new characters to introduce, but unfortunately, I cannot see myself continuing to work with Webtoons and I want to pursue other projects.

This decision was due to a compiling number of issues with the company, the final straw was when they had a mass layoff, fired my editor that I've been working with for two years, and did not inform me for a week, leaving me in the dark until they randomly assigned me with someone else. My new editor is great and I'm glad I'm working with someone so patient and understanding, but this decision to fire my previous editor, the one who got me the job to begin with, without prior warning made me feel disrespected and disregarded, and it killed all motivation I had for properly completing the series.

I also felt incredibly overworked, I was spending vacation days working on comics and avoiding time with family just so I could get something done for webtoons once I come home. I feel like so much time was being wasted away for a company that paid me so little that I had to work twice as hard building up funds on my patreon. Bugtopia just ate up so much of my time. The pay also didn't make up for it. It's commonly assumed that webtoons authors make about $800 for the episodes they do, but that's not true. In fact, you can make far less depending on the amount of panels expected for your contract. It doesn't help that the artwork i did for banners and promotions were all things I had to draw and didn't get paid for, and the work I gave was either tampered with or scrapped, making me feel like I spent more hours of my day wasting time. There were also comics I had to censor and scrap, likely due to another series being in hot water for its racially insensitive content. But it was just extra work I wasn't being paid for. It also frustrated me because I was seeing other series with far more explicit content getting away with a slap on the wrist (turns out you can't say "fuck" anymore without it being hit with a mature rating, disappointing!)

In all honesty, it just felt like webtoons needed me more than I needed them. I was making more money from patreon in a week than I was making from webtoons in a month.

Personally, while I don't really regret my time with Webtoons and met some great people along the way, I honestly don't think any artist should work with them. You will be severely overworked and underpaid, and will barely be featured in ads unless your series becomes an instant hit immediately. It doesn't really matter how successful you are, you're just a product to Webtoons, put yourself above the corporation.

I have tried my best to provide you all with a satisfying conclusion to Bugtopia, even if some episodes may feel rushed or incomplete, but I completely understand if the conclusion isn't to your liking and I do apologize, but I could not continue working on this series if this was the mistreatment I was going to continuously get. I owe a massive thank you to my editor and assistants for helping me complete the series, I truly don't think I could have ever finished it without them.

Though I am done with Bugtopia, that does not mean I want to stop projects entirely, so please don't feel bad for me. I have a lot of upcoming projects and ideas in the works, and I'm still continuing the Monsters and Girls series.

Will Bugtopia ever return... possibly. I retain complete ownership of the series after a few years, and I wouldn't mind continuing the canvas series (or possibly starting over). Unfortunately I don't think I can continue the Webtoon Original as it belongs to webtoons now, but never say never I suppose!

[dana-chan-the-control-brain]

TADC: Thoughts on Jax in Episode 2

Thoughts on Jax after Amazing Digital Circus Episode 2 Dropped.

Massive spoilers below the cut. Just watch the ep before you read.

Amazing Digital Circus had an amazing second episode as we're introduced more to what the adventures are like, and what NPCs are like and ofc the existential horror of being a living AI only created for a source of entertainment.

Also, I love the dream sequence at the beginning, because we actually get some deeper insight into Pomni's thoughts on Ragatha. Feeling like her helpfulness is the guise of like "man, you're not cut out for this like the rest of us" which is typically something a lot of people who have been bullied in highschool perceive genuine acts of kindness and engagement. (which I kind of suspect Pomni might have been, or at least, been a shut-in and didn't have a lot of friends in her human life. )

Jax wasn't really the main focus of the episode, but it wasn't really until the end of the episode I understood his behavior and what this episode is foreshadowing overall.

Since while Jax isn't the focus emotionally, he is definitely the plot device to push things forward. And I mean, a plot device in a very active and quite literal way. He's the one that causes Pomni to clip out of the map, takes advantage of everyone and is just... genuinely an unpleasant person.

I actually really like this.

As, I know the first episode in the digital circus, many people (me included) could perceive or analyze Jax's actions as someone who is "helping" in a roundabout asshole way. Episode Two has none of that here. He just wants Bloodshed, And I love that we're getting additional context on his character.

It's hard to tell how much fan reception Gooseworx saw of episode one before episode two hit production, so I don't know how much of the fandom perception of Jax had an influence on the writing process, but I can't deny that might have been a factor in assuring us "no he's not secretly helpful, he's just an asshole" But I'm just going to assume that this has been part of his characterization from the start and it becomes way more clear as the episode goes on.

But there was something in his behavior throughout this whole episode that seemed off to me. Like Jax was taking up a majority of the B-plot, while Pomni had the A-plot. So I was wondering why Jax seemed to be the protagonist with the B-plot when Pomni was the A-plot when they seemed to be so disconnected with eachother in motivations and telling us things about the characters.

But then it hit me when the episode ended and the two plots merged together.

"who... knows... what could happen..."

And then it hit me.

Pomni finds comfort in an NPC who is going through a similar experience to her and can emphasize, despite their being other humans who have gone through the same thing, due to her self-admitting to being a loner in her human life. Well, she didn't admit it outright, but from how she perceives Ragatha's kindness as an act, or patronizing, it seems like she doesn't have a lot of friends...

Meanwhile... Jax... He treats the adventure like a videogame. Why shouldn't he? He's trapped in a videogame, right? But it really goes beyond that.

The fellow humans that Jax is trapped with, he treats THEM like they're NPCs, while Pomni treats the NPC like they're human.

Jax says to Gangle "Aren't you supposed to be the suggestible one?" Which you wouldn't typically wouldn't say to a person, right? That's something you would say more about a character that you maxed out the dialogue trees in.

He calls Pomni "His Bridge" even.

They're his objects. His tools, his own npcs he's exhausted the dialogue options on.

Jax dehumanizes the players in a way that Pomni humanizes the NPCS.

These are two opposite ends of the spectrum but what really sold it for me was Jax's reaction to the funeral.

And Jax is the one member out of the cast who doesn't even show up to the funeral. (aside from Caine and Bubble but they are AI.)

He does NOT want to think about the Players as real people. And showing that opposite perspective compared to Pomni I think is much as important going forward.

Jax was the plot catalyst of this entire episode, and served the thematic theme of the episode quite well, even if it didn't look like it on first glance.

I absolutely loved this episode and I can't wait for more.

Also... Poor Pomni can't have shit in Detroit

[noyasmashing]

Between Lines

Sub!Kenma x Fem!reader

CW: caught jerking off, reader a lil mean, begging, kenma being a cry baby, phone smut

A/N: Kinda rushed this one tbh.. I don’t know if I’m a fan of it but I liked the idea

WC: 1,360

Kenma's quiet demeanor was a defining trait, one that set him apart from the crowd. He wasn't one to actively seek out friendships, nor did he make much effort to engage in conversations with girls.

However, you were the exception. The circumstances of how your nightly calls began was something Kenma could not recall; but it was evolved from your shared love of video games. But once the controllers were set aside for the night, the conversations continued.

Despite his reputation for silence, Kenma was an attentive listener. He found solace in the sound of your voice, absorbing every detail you shared – whether it was the latest gossip, your favorite TV shows, or the mundane details of your day. He was content with this, offering only occasional interjections or quiet chuckles in response.

When the topic inevitably turned to him, Kenma's responses were dry, stale. I mean, you tried to talk about him, but it’s like he was on a witness protection program. He always found a way to turn the conversations back to you.

You weren’t exactly sure why, as sometimes you would have to ask “Are you still there, Kozu?"

A soft "mhmm" would be his only response, a subtle reassurance that he was indeed still listening.

Tonight was no exception. The clock ticked past 10:00 pm, leaving Kenma’s room dark as he lay on his bed, phone pressed to his ear. Your voice filled the room, animated and excited as you recounted the latest episode from your favorite TV show.

"But can you believe that plot twist?" you exclaimed, your excitement palpable even through the phone.

"Yeah, it was unexpected," Kenma replied, his tone calm but laced with a hint of amusement.

As the conversation continued, Kenma found himself lying there, feeling embarrassingly aroused. Lately, he had been struggling to find release, but there was something about the sound of your voice that seemed to make him undeniably hard.

His hand started to wander lower, venturing into forbidden territory where his boxers were already dampened with precum.

"That reminds me, Kozu! What you pulled off during the last match was pretty impressive," you enthusiastically complimented him, completely unaware of the effect your words were having on him.

“o-oh really?” He asked shakily, shamelessly teasing his overly sensitive pink tip.

"Mhmm, good job, Kozu.” You chuckled, praising him once more for his gaming skills.

Now, of all times, was the worst moment to praise him like that. He was already so aroused! The tone of your voice, your affectionate words, and just your presence in general was too much for him. By now, he was shakily jerking himself off, beads of precum leaking out of his tip.

He attempted to stifle his sounds of pleasure, but his efforts were in vain as a loud moan escaped him, broadcasting through the mic. His moment of ecstasy was abruptly halted when the realization of his mistake hit him.

"Kozu?" you asked, surprised at his unexpected reaction. Kenma didn’t know what to do with himself. He could die right about now. The one time he decided to let into his urges and he gets caught!

Before he could gather his thoughts to respond, you continued with a mischievous tone, "Have you been getting off to my voice every night?" Kenma's cheeks flushed even deeper as he struggled to find words, caught off guard by your bold question.

"N-no... I just... I'm sorry," Kenma whimpered out, his embarrassment evident in his voice. Somehow, he found himself even more aroused than before. Being caught by you had an unexpected effect on his body.

He braced himself for your potential reaction—scolding, perhaps even the silent treatment, or worse. But instead, your voice cut through his panicked thoughts, softer than before, calm and understanding,

"Did you cum yet?" you asked curiously, your tone indicating a desire to help with his predicament.

"W-what?" Kenma asked, still expecting a reprimand from you, his confusion evident in his voice.

“Cum? Did you?” you asked, this time with a slightly firmer tone.

"N-n, no.. no I didn’t," Kenma told you anxiously, unable to believe you would ask him something so intimate.

“Do you want to?” you inquired, your tone still gentle, yet probing. Kenma couldn't decipher how you felt about the situation, but he responded with a shaky "yes," although it was an obvious answer.

Your light laughter filled the air, further fueling Kenma's embarrassment. "I won't stop you, Kozu. I was waiting for something like this to happen," you admitted seductively, your words sending a shiver down his spine.

Kenma let out a soft whine, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and arousal coursing through him at your candid admission.

His hand slowly made its way back down to his aching cock, ready to relive himself of this burning feeling.

"What... what do you mean?" Kenma let out shakily, running his hand over the length of his throbbing erection. God, he was incredibly turned on right now, teetering on the edge of climax with every touch.

"Oh, come on," you teased, as if he should have known what you meant all along, though maybe he did, he wasn't sure. "Do you think I spend hours talking to you even when it’s late just for fun? I like you, Kozume. I really do," you confessed, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

This time, Kenma let out a loud moan in response. You? You liked him? It was all too much for him to process.

"I want to see you," he whined, his voice filled with desperation, the sound of his frantic movements against his cock audible through the speaker, causing you to clench around nothing.

"You sound so pretty right now. I wish it was my hand doing the work for you," you remarked, ignoring his attempts at flattery.

He continued to diligently pleasure himself, while you comforted him with soft words, unwittingly encouraging his actions.

His breath became heavier, punctuated by moans and whimpers. "Please," he breathed out, nearing the edge of his climax.

"Please what, Kozu? Do you want to cum?" you asked warmly, causing him to nod his head rapidly, as if you could see him.

"Hmm?" you questioned at his silence. He let out a shy "can I?" seeking your permission for release.

"I don’t know…" you trailed off, feigning contemplation. "I’m kind of upset you touched yourself to my voice without me knowing. You're such a little pervert," you chided, and Kenma couldn't help but let out a mangled sob, his hand slowing its pace in response to your disapproval.

Hearing his slowed motions, you quickly scolded him,

"Don’t slow down if I didn’t tell you to.” This time you were much harsher than he expected. Tears began running down his burning cheeks, small apologies leaving his wet lips.

“If you wanna cum, beg," your demeanor shifted quickly, fueling his arousal even more.

He couldn’t believe you would make him do something so lewd, but he was too far gone to stop himself, "Please.. p-please [name], 'wanna cum so bad! I'm sorry.. mm sorry!" Kenma's voice came out in pitiful sobs, his desperation evident.

The sound of your tongue clicking, as if you weren’t satisfied with his pleas, only made him more desperate.

“I don’t know… maybe I should make you wait until I can touch you,” you remarked. But all Kenma could focus on was the “until I can touch you.”

The thought of you, looking at him with those pretty eyes as you made him cum on himself over and over again, was too much.

He let out more pleas and whimpers, his hips buckling pathetically into his own hand.

“I need to cum, it hurts. I haven’t in sooo long. Please, just this once.. one time,” he rambled, trying to convince you.

"Alright baby, let it out," you finally relented, and Kenma's moans grew louder as thick white ropes of cum flew out from his sensitive tip, coating his pale stomach. Small thank yous and pieces of your name left his lips as he hit his peak.

"Who knew someone so quiet would moan so loud," you remarked, a hint of amusement in your voice.

[swiftlymurmurs]

I've seen a lot of people voice disappointment over this Game Changer season finale and while I personally wasn't really bothered by a lot of the criticisms (I thought the Ratfish was an interesting added game mechanic and I never really care who wins or loses so his judgements not aligning with mine made no difference to me) I do think it's very interesting and I've spent some time thinking about why it doesn't work for so many. Some thoughts: Why is this Eric guy even here?

Tim & Eric were a popular tv comedy duo in the late aughts alt comedy scene. Sam and many of the writers at Dropout are sketch comedy nerds who, in 2007, were freshly at the start of their comedy careers, and probably see them and the larger [Adult Swim] environment they were a part of as a huge influence.

Why has it maybe aged poorly?

As far as I know, their popularity came in the early stages of about a decade of quite cynical, surreal comedy that also spawned the "lolrandom" era. While huge and fresh at the time, I think my generation (gen Z, the main viewerbase of Dropout) has grown pretty tired of this style and favours sketch comedy that's more clever, witty, and emotionally open or wholesome. At least, that's a movement Dropout has very much steered into with their roster of comedians and it's what the viewers expect.

The parasocial thing

It's no secret that Dropout actively promotes itself as a tight group of friendly comedians who you are invited to get to know, expect, and love when they show up. They don't abuse parasociality in the way you see, for example, younger audience oriented youtubers shoveling merch do it, but they absolutely make use of it. Most of the moments from this episode I've seen people gush over or post positively about are those where the cast recognize each other's styles, reference their relationships, and just generally make it known how well they know one another. When a total stranger enters the picture in an episode where the cast already have a barrier to their regular banter AND is given so much power over the game, they may look like an outsider or even an enemy to the happy little family people have gotten so attached to. Especially because his role is explicitly that of an antagonist, and the cast are never given a chance to see him and maybe out their love and respect for him as a comedian. In the minds of viewers, he just stays some guy who made mean jokes about their blorbo and then left.

Conclusion

I'm always glad to see this show making big swings, and while most of them have landed, some of them are bound to miss. It's a show that prides itself on trying things the viewers may not yet know they wanted and the second it stops trying, I think it'll be all the worse for it. It's a shame to end the season on such a note, but it's been hit after hit so far, and before we know it we'll be right back into it. I love this show, I love this cast, and I'm excited to see what's next!

[pastorpresent]

insp by this right here, by @septicsoldier13. thank you for the prompt lovely! :))

-

They were short on bills this month.

Logan's shitty job at some scummy bar didn't exactly leave him rolling in cash (not to mention the seventy dollars he was docked for drinking the supply), Wade hadn't made all that much in commission, and Al's disability cheque didn't stretch far.

Rent was covered, so was water and electric, but that left heat unpaid.

Logan figured it wouldn't be a big deal. It was July- and there was a pretty intense heatwave hitting the city currently. They likely wouldn't need the heat for the next month anyway.

The apartment was chilled, but it wasn't cold by any means, which was why he was confused when he got home one evening and Wade was walking around making dinner with a blanket draped over his shoulders, and what looked to be two sweaters on, alongside thick sweatpants.

Logan was sweating just looking at him.

"I know you're pissed I got docked the alcohol money, but aren't you overplaying it a little, bub?"

Wade jumped at his voice, clearly not hearing him enter. The blanket dropped to the kitchen floor, and the merc looked mildly embarrassed.

"I was... cold," he said quietly, and it was... odd. There was no jokes, none of the usual outrageous comebacks, and Wade was just staring at the blanket now crumpled on the floor, almost with a fucking longing expression, and Logan would admit that often the idiots jokes flew right over his head (he wasn't exactly caught up with the last fifty years of media), but he really didn't get this one.

"You were cold? It's not hot in here but it's not cold," Logan pointed out, pretty much over Wade's dramatics.

He'd had a long shift at work, split up about four fights, kicked three people out and chased two couples trying to fuck in the filthy bathroom all between making stupid drinks as his own fingers itched for alcohol.

All to say, he really didn't have the energy for whatever dumb joke this was a part of.

"You're gonna give yourself heatstroke, and you look fucking ridiculous," he deadpanned, and Wade shrugs, doesn't say anything, which makes something heavy settle in Logan's gut.

Whatever, not his problem, right?

He left to go shower.

//

Wade had stripped down into sweats and a single sweater by the time they retire to the couch.

Logan is in his vest and flannel pyjama pants, and he's warm, but he doesn't mention Wade's layers this time.

The TV is on, some shitty episode of some shitty reality show Wade insists he has to watch, and Logan's focusing on it, until he's not.

His attention wanders over to the merc sat on the other end of the couch. It's not uncommon, Logan tends to spend more time watching Wade react to whatever dumb shit is on rather than watch it himself, for reasons he doesn't have the energy to analyse.

Somethings wrong.

Because Wade isn't watching the TV either. His eyes are distant, staring at the floor, and he's shivering violently, teeth practically chattering as he curls in on himself, knees hugged to his chest, and it's like he's...

"You're cold," Logan concludes aloud, but this time the words hold no frustration, because he'd seen Wade be committed to jokes before - but never on this scale. It's not a joke, or some sort of prank at Logan's expense.

Wade nods, and Logan is up and crouching in front of him immediately, sticking a hand against his forehead. Wade practically leans into his body's warmth, shuddering, and jesus christ - the mercs skin is like ice.

"The hell? Are you sick? Can you even get sick?" Logan touched the exposed skin of Wade's wrist, and sure enough - it was freezing.

Wade laughed softly, "I'm always sick, it's just... another side effect," he explained, and it took Logan a minute to recall what the cause of Wade's scars was. The cancer.

"But... your mutation, that stupid programme, I thought it cured you," Logan frowned.

"Not... cured. Just sort of put it on the back burner. It can't kill me, because my body is constantly regenerating the cells it kills, but it's there, and sometimes the symptoms hit a bit harder than usual," Wade explained, looking self conscious, as if this was something Logan would mock him for.

"Why the fuck didn't you say something when we sacrificed the heating this month?"

"We needed it the least-"

"I would've found a fuckin' way if I knew you'd suffer! I'm going straight down there tomorrow, I'll use my tip money to pay it," Logan stated, and Wade's eyes widened.

"No, peanut, you're saving that up for your motorcycle-"

"Fuck that, I'm not having you be uncomfortable in your own home," Logan huffed, "now wait here," he tossed a blanket from the chair over to Wade, then headed to their bedroom.

He headed to Wade's set of drawers first, but pivoted to his own. His hoodies were bigger - more fabric, more warmth, right? Definitely. He didn't just want to see Wade wrapped up in his clothes. That would be fucking dumb, because he wasn't a thirteen year old girl with a school crush.

He grabbed the obnoxiously pink Hello Kitty blanket from their bed too, and then stuck into Al's drawers and grabbed the hot water bottle she used when her back was giving her a hard time. He grabbed one of her heating pads from the medication cupboard too, making a note to buy her some more the next time he did their grocery run.

A few minutes later, items in hand and hot water bottle sufficiently warmed, he reentered the living room.

Wade had the blanket over his lap, but Logan could still see the slight tremble of his shoulders, as much as he was now trying to hide it.

His stomach twisted with guilt for his earlier words.

Logan sat beside him, "lift you're shirt up, just for a minute," he ordered as he opened the heat pad.

"At least buy me dinner first, or I'll kiss and tell. Who am I kidding? If we kiss I'm definitely telling, I'll go on the local news-" Wade's usual tirade of rambling was somewhat comforting, not that Logan would ever tell him that, but even so it's usual flow was lost behind the chattering of teeth.

"Wade," Logan interrupted, trying for exasperated but knowing he probably fell a bit short, "Shirt up, bub," he repeated.

Wade still looked hesitant, staring at him like he'd lost his mind, and Logan sighed, grabbing the hem of the sweater and doing it himself, using his other hand to stick the heat pad on.

"What are you- oh," Wade shivered again, arching his back a little into the heat source.

It only took a second for Logan to reboot his brain, and he quickly dropped Wade's shirt.

"Here," he shoved the hoodie, blanket, and hot water bottle into his lap, and Wade stared at the collection, and the tiny tug of a smile made Logan's heart jump a little in his chest.

"Awh peanut, you're the sweetest," he gushed, and it was supposed to be a tease, he knew that, but there was also something genuine there.

"Just warm yourself up," Logan muttered in response, avoiding his gaze.

He returned back to his seat, occasionally glancing over to Wade. The merc settle back down, both blankets wrapped around him, drowning in Logan's hoodie, the hot water bottle hugged to his chest.

He looked... cute, his nose and eyes visible beneathe the layered cocoon.

Logan did go back to focusing on the show, but he didn't stop his sideways glances, and it didn't take long to notice Wade was still shivering a little.

"Are you still cold?"

"No-"

"Wade," Logan warned, practically growled in his direction, and the younger man sighed.

"It's not... I know I shouldn't be, it's just... weird. It's like it's embedded into my fucking bones, I can't..." Wade trailed off, and he sounded miserable.

"Just come here, you dumbass," Logan said, rushing the words out before he could change his mind.

And if Wade looked at him like he was crazy earlier, now he was regarding him as if he'd grown a second head.

"You've done more than enough, Lo. I just need to get my shit together-"

It wasn't up for debate, and Logan wasn't fucking debating it. He grabbed Wade and yanked him closer, earning a yelp of surprise.

He made quick work of pulling him in close, an arm wrapped around his shoulders and dragging him into his body heat.

"Logan, you really don't need to-"

"Shut up and watch the TV," Logan grumbled, staring pointedly at the screen as to not meet the eyes burning holes into him currently.

Wade did give in eventually. He snuggled down into Logans side, head resting on his shoulder and a sweater-pawed hand coming up to lay on his chest. Logan wrapped an arm around his waist in response, tugging him impossibly closer.

Wade did stop shivering, eventually, and there was a mumbled 'thank you' against his neck.

Logan just squeezed his waist in acknowledgement, and neither made a move to separate.

//

The next time, Logan didn't need Wade to say a damn thing.

It wasn't the bills going unpaid this time, either, because Logan prioritised heat as much as he did the base rent when working out their money these days, and had even spent some of his spare cash on an overly loud but functional portable heater as the weather grew colder.

(Of course Wade's favourite method of warming up remained... him, but Logan really had no qualms with that. He found himself almost a bit jealous when Wade opted for the heater before himself, usually when he was busy, and Logan found himself purposefully dropping whatever he was doing to sit on the couch and drag Wade up against him. He absolutely did not glare at a portable heater, because that would be insane.)

No, this time they'd been invited to a Christmas night out alongside the X-men.

Logan had been reluctant to go, still not all that comfortable seeing the team after previously seeing them all... but Wade had begged, and pleaded, because apparently this was a yearly thing and he'd never been invited before.

That alone had only served to piss Logan off more, but Wade had been so excited - and so he sacrificed their quiet night in for a pub crawl around the city.

He'd already caught Wade shivering a few times in the warmth of their apartment that day, but the merc was quick to deny it, likely thinking (and accurately so) that Logan wasn't going to let him go if he thought he was having a bad day in terms of maintaining his body heat.

He'd watched Wade dress with a frown, "at least stick a shirt on under your sweater. You not got any clean sweats you can wear? Those jeans are too thin," Logan had lectured, and Wade had pouted in that way that typically spelt trouble for the older mutant.

"I don't wanna look stupid! Have you seen what I'm working with here? The least I can do is dress nice," Wade gestured to his face, to his scars, and Logan had to bite his tongue to stop himself from immediately jumping on the defence, because he'd probably call Wade gorgeous or something equally as eyebrow raising in the process.

"Fine, but you bring a jacket," he said, and Wade rolled his eyes but agreed.

They'd been out for a couple of hours. The drinks were flowing (Logan had cut himself off at three beers, which was a personal best), and everything was going... oddly well. Logan felt more at ease around the team than he had since he arrived in this universe, and it was nice.

He was talking to Hank, when Scott came over and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Sorry to interrupt, but Wade's asking for you, Logan," Logan frowned.

Wade had dissapeared a little while ago in order to go dance with Storm, Morph and Jean.

"Where is he?" Logan asked, already on his feet.

"Bathroom. He doesn't look great, dunno if he's had too much to drink," Scott replies, and Logan nods, heavily doubting the explanation.

"Thanks, Scott," he says, before making his way through the crowd and into the bathrooms at the back of the club.

When he enters, Wade is perched against the sinks, shivering violently, his whole body trembling and teeth going so fast he could hear them clinking together. He had his arms wrapped tightly around himself.

"W-won't stop, m' cold," Wade whimpered, the embarrassed flush on his cheeks standing out harshly against his pale palour.

Logan's immediate reaction is one of frustration, "I told you that you needed more layers!"

The scolding only earned a small nod, and a sniffle as Wade looked away.

"I'm sorry, I know. I'm just... gonna go home," he said, pushing up from the sinks to leave, but even his legs were shaking, and when he tried to walk the violent trembles knocked him off balance.

Logan was quick to catch him, wrapping his arms around the merc. Wade leaned into his warmth almost instinctively.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" Logan said, but his voice held more concern than anger now, as he steadied Wade on his feet.

He didn't expect the mutant to burst into tears.

Logan didn't do great with tears, especially not when it was somebody he genuinely cared about. He very almost ran out of there, went to grab Jean or Storm or even Hank - anyone who was better at this shit than he was, but he had a feeling Wade wouldn't appreciate anyone seeing him in this state.

Shit, did he even want Logan here right now? He might have asked for him earlier, but he clearly wasn't being much help. He'd made him cry, for fucks sake.

"I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, I know I should've listened I just- I wanted to just feel slightly normal for once," Wade cried harder, and Logan found himself pulling the shaking merc into his arms again, tucking him against his chest.

"I'm not mad, bub. I get it, I do. I'm just worried about you," Logan sighed, and God, Wade really was like a block of ice on his hold.

"'M sorry," Wade hiccuped, and Logan shushed him softly.

"It's fine, honest. Let's get you home and warmed up, hm?" Logan suggested, running his hands over Wade's arms in an effort to ease the chill.

"Yeah," Wade agreed tiredly, and Logan guided him out the bar, giving Jean an excuse of Wade not handling his alcohol too great (which was at least somewhat true, because the merc was definitely teetering into the emotional drunk category if his display in the bathroom was anything to go off) and hailed them a cab home.

He helped Wade to the couch, burying him in blankets and setting up the heater directly in front of him. When he turned to leave, a hand escaped from the mountain of fleece to curl around his wrist.

"Cuddles? Please?"

Logan was surprised he didn't turn into a puddle on the spot. It was fucking ridiculous. If anyone else dared to grab him like that, make such a request with big devastated puppy dog eyes, he would've sliced them into three even pieces.

Wade was making him soft. He didn't feel as repulsed by that thought as he probably should've.

"In a minute, bub. Let me go get you some stuff first, alright?"

Wade nodded, letting go reluctantly.

Logan made quick work of gathering the usual. It had become almost a routine at this point.

He made Wade a hot chocolate too, knowing how much the merc adored the sugary drink. He was only making it to warm him up though, obviously.

When he returned, Wade had burrowed completely beneath the blanket pile, and Logan had to immediately shut down the adorable that his unhelpful, traitorous brain supplied.

He put the hot chocolate on the table, and the smell had Wade popping his head out, staring at the drink.

"You made me hot chocolate?"

"Don't get used to it," Logan replied, and shoved a pair of his own sweatpants and his own hoodie against Wade's chest.

"Get these on."

"These are yours y'know," Wade said, running a hand over the sweatpants.

"Yours are dirty," Logan shrugged.

They were. Apart from a black pair at the bottom of his closet, but Logan was prepared to swear under oath that he'd never seen them before in his life.

Wade made quick work of getting changed. Logan turned to face the wall, and while Wade didn't say anything, Logan could feel the assholes smirk.

Once he was done, Logan joined him on the couch, climbing beneathe the layers of blankets despite the fact that he tended to run pretty hot. He could get closer to Wade this way.

He stuck the heat pad on his neck, the hot water bottle against his stomach (Wade's very own one now, with hello kitty sewn onto the cover - early Christmas gift from Logan) and wrapped him up in his arms, until Wade's entire body weight was resting against him, sprawled against his chest.

"Logan?" Wade asked after a while of silence, the only sound being the TV and humming of the heater.

"Hm?"

"You're the best wolverine," Wade said softly, and Logan glanced down at the merc, snuggled against his chest, eyes half lidded. He'd stopped shivering.

"Only for you, bub," he hummed in response, very almost kissing the top of his head, but settling on running a hand through it instead.

Wade made a happy sound, and Logan was just glad no one was around to see the stupid smile it put on his face.

[skittishpuppy]

M!Werewolf x

F!reader smut

18+

Warning- monsterfucking, obviously, lots of swearing, very very slight dubcon at the beginning, knotting, use of 'it' to refer to the werewolf.

Word count- 1903

This was written by me! Hope you enjoy <3

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You sighed to yourself as you took the steps up to your first floor apartment. It had been a hard day at work and you were already ready to turn in for the night, despite it only being 6:30 p.m. Your boss had been particularly dickish, and you really just needed to relax, maybe have a little bit of a self care evening, then fall asleep. It was your day off tomorrow, luckily, so you could get away with it.

You opened your door and broke the threshold of your home, but immediately stopped short when you heard a strange rustling noise behind you. You looked back nervously, somehow expecting to see some sort of axe murderer. What you saw was even worse.

Twenty feet away from you, and growing ever closer, there was a werewolf. An extremely large one, at nearly twelve feet tall.

You swallowed heavily, face turning a little pale with fright. You'd never encountered a werewolf before, but from what you'd heard, they weren't supposed to be out this early… And it wasn't even a full moon. But despite that, the creature was here, right in front of you, salivating like a rabid dog that was ready to go in for the kill.

You raised your hands in surrender and began backing up slowly, not really sure what else to do. What else was there to do? You didn't have anything to protect yourself; All you had was a brain that was capable of sending prayers to a god you weren't even sure existed.

In your panicked, fight or flight state, you forgot to shut the door, and that was your downfall. The beast sped up upon noticing your retreat. A fun game of chase, it probably presumed.

Your back hit the wall and your heart began pounding so fast and intensely that you were surprised it didn't explode from your chest like in that one episode of supernatural.

Seemingly unaware, or unbothered by, your absolute all-consuming, spine chilling terror, it continued to approach you, maw gaping open, revealing its razor sharp, two inch long canines that could easily tear you to shreds.

“Um,” you said weakly as it closed in on you. “Good dog?” It was a weak strategy, but it couldn't hurt to try, could it?

It just let out a low growl and you whimpered and screwed your eyes shut, unable to look the beast in the eye as it tore you apart and devoured you alive.

After a beat where nothing but it's hot breath on your neck could be felt, you dared to open your eyes. You saw its crimson red hungry gaze staring back at you.

You swallowed heavily. This was it. This was the day you died. You hadn't gotten to do even one of the things on your bucket list yet. You hadn't even experienced much of life! You were young still, you didn't deserve to die, much less in such a gruesome way as this. You were–

Your eyes snapped back open, this time wide as saucers.

Oh…?

Oh.

You'd been right; It did want to devour you, but not in an evil-shredding-destroying-murdering way. In a sexy way.

The werewolf's furry hand had slipped under your shirt and was now roaming around, gently feeling your slightly chubby stomach. It'd taken you years to feel ok with it, and you still weren't certain of your own body, but this creature was somehow making all those worries go away.

Nonetheless, ‘What the fuck?’ was the only thought your blanked out mind could supply as you simply allowed the werewolf to rid you of your button down by ripping it off you.

It did the same with your black lacy bra, the one that always made you feel good in your own skin, and tossed the shredded remains onto the floor. What a waste. But really, you couldn't bring yourself to care. You had better things to be focusing on. Like, how a goddamn werewolf was now licking and nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck while rubbing your perky nipples.

“Mmm…” you hummed softly, tilting your head to try and escape the advances. You weren't sure if you actually wanted to, but somehow it felt more shameful if you didn't.

It didn't seem to matter, either way. The werewolf just continued working its way down your body. When it reached your pencil skirt, you squirmed, but you couldn't wriggle out of its tight grasp. It was far, far stronger than you. Able to kill you with a single bite or swipe of its large paw. And somehow, deep in the darkest recesses of your mind, you really liked that.

It tore off your skirt, throwing it to the side, and ran a clawed finger along the waistband of your panties, while using the other hand to begin feeling you through the silk fabric.

You clenched your thighs together, but it was for naught. It began rubbing your clit sensually, clearly intending to make you feel good, and you couldn't stifle the small gasp that escaped your lips.

You spread your thighs, giving it full access, and it fully took advantage of that, discarding your panties and getting on its knees. It leaned in, nuzzling you with its wet nose, and you shivered. The cold feeling was new to you, but it wasn't bad.

The werewolf then stuck out its tongue and began licking your cunt enthusiastically, focusing on the clit.

“Oh, fuck…” you breathed out, throwing your head back against the wall. It was really good at this, far better than any human man you'd been with. It clearly knew what it was doing.

Its tail was wagging wildly as it treated you to the best cunnilingus you'd ever experienced, and you couldn't help but feel honored that you made this beast feel that happy.

It ate you out like it was what it lived to do, kissing and nipping at your thighs, lapping at your cunt, even using the pads of its fingers to rub you.

You didn't take long to come, entire body convulsing, and you cried out in pleasure, eyelids fluttering. It helped you through it, licking up your cum, and the aftershocks were just as pleasurable. Your thighs were shaking, and you were barely able to hold yourself up against the wall, but it didn't really matter.

Suddenly, you felt your feet get swept underneath you, and the ground grow farther away. You distantly realized, through the haze of your orgasm, that you were being carried by the werewolf across the room, and into your bedroom. It tossed you onto the bed and you sat up, staring directly at the new development.

The werewolf's cock had unsheathed, and it was long, thick, and dripping with precum.

You swallowed heavily, feeling your mouth turn dry. It was big. Really big. You'd never taken anything near that size, even in your personal time. But you'd be damned if you were going to back down from a challenge. So you stared into the wolf's eyes. “Fuck me,” you dared, not entirely sure how it'd react.

The wolf's gaze darkened, penetrating down to your very soul, and it leapt onto the bed, muscles rippling, and shoved you onto your back so harshly you yelped in surprise.

It had definitely responded properly, you thought, as it pinned your arms above your head, gripping your wrists tightly enough to leave bruises.

Without wasting any time, it positioned itself properly, tapping its cock on your cunt a few times. You wrapped your legs around its waist, both of your bodies falling naturally into place.

You briefly wondered why the hell you'd gone along with this in the first place, you knew it was going to hurt, but you simply couldn't resist. The allure of the taboo had plagued you all your life, and this was no different. You had to try everything at least once, and this was no different. You were torn from your thoughts abruptly when the werewolf lined up with your entrance.

Fuck. This was really happening.

“Fuck!” you shouted as it suddenly thrust in all the way, balls deep, sending you forward. It pulled out, then slammed back in, setting a rough, hard pace that had you gasping and whimpering pitifully with each thrust. It was painful, god it was painful, but the pleasure far outweighed the rest.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chanted, your brain getting fully rewired. This was the best thing you'd ever experienced, the amazing feeling of its cock inside you, pushing your body and mind to the very limits.

It railed you, hard and fast, unrelenting and intense, holding you in place with ease. You felt tears well up in your eyes, and a sob make its way out of your throat, and holy fuck, you could hardly breathe.

It was growling, deep and low and animalistic as it fucked you with abandon, and it was a noise that sent shivers down your spine and butterflies in your stomach.

You were distantly aware you were just babbling now, unable to form any sort of coherent sentence, or even thought. The only thing you could think about was its cock ramming you, how full you felt, and how fucking amazing this was.

Eventually, its thrusts grew more stuttered and twitchy, its growls more high pitched and whiny, as it grew closer to its climax.

You let out a long, drawn out moan and shifted your hips to help him along, and it did the trick, as seconds later, you felt its cum fill you up to the brim. You gasped, surprised and extremely pleased with the warm, full feeling, and it let out a loud howl, consumed with pleasure, but continued thrusting into your pussy.

Finally, your own pleasure overtook you. You let out a string of incoherent curses that would make a sailor blush as your second orgasm rippled through you, cascading from your cunt to your stomach and your thighs, filling you with so much pure fucking ecstasy that you saw stars, your vision turning black at the edges.

The werewolf gave a few more weak thrusts, finally tiring out, but didn't pull out. Your eyes widened as you felt something grow inside you– its knot.

You tried to twist yourself away from it, not particularly wanting to be stuck with the beast inside you for an hour, but you were immediately stopped by brute force, and you just gave into it.

The werewolf seemed pleased by your submission, and moved forward on the bed. It laid down beside you, despite not fitting on the mattress, and wrapped its legs and arms around you, cuddling you.

You could do nothing but fully embrace it with a soft, content sigh.

This definitely wasn't something you'd ever heard in the stories, but you weren't in the least bit displeased about it. Rather the opposite, in fact. This had been, by far, the best sexual encounter of your life. You just hoped the werewolf would stay for the night. And maybe more… You could totally go a dozen more rounds.

As you closed your eyes, you wondered if it was possible to have his pups. It was, oddly enough, an appearing idea. You then felt his grip tighten around you, and you relaxed, feeling safe and secure in his arms, and drifted off into a peaceful sleep.