Greetings, lovelies. This blog is mostly about Supernatural and Once Upon a Time, additionally I reblog just about anything I come across and like. This is NOT A SPOILER FREE blog. Nothing you find here is mine unless otherwise stated. Please, talk to me, I love chatting.
the woman in the river shows me an axe of silver and asks if it is the one I lost. I respond that it is. she produces an axe of gold and asks the same question again. I shamefully look away, not sure whether I'm comfortable admitting that I was dual wielding
she stares at me in abject confusion as I take stock of my tools. a look of dissatisfaction brews on her face. "but why is one golden?" the woman asks.
I tug nervously at my coat, feeling the slightest bit insulted. "well, it's not cheap to have a matching pair," I tell her. "not everyone can afford two golden axes."
"why not two silver axes?"
"I had the money for one golden axe."
the woman crosses her arms. "but the gold is worse for everything you'd want an axe to do."
"it's not. it was more expensive and also really hard to find."
"gold" she says, "is softer than silver."
"it's literally not, though," I say. "that's a really common misconception, but pure silver is softer than gold."
"most metal sold as silver is actually an alloy. that axe is probably sterling silver. I don't believe for a second someone made you a pure silver axe."
I look at my axe, then back to the woman, then back to my axe.
"it was pure silver when it went into the river."
an unreadable expression. with a great splash, the woman disappears into the current.
for three days and three nights, I wander along the river's edge, hoping to find the woman again. I throw rocks, twigs, and once or twice a weird looking animal into the water. it's all to no avail.
on the final evening, I see a glint at the river's mouth. I run as quickly as I can, knowing I've finally found... oh for fuck's sake, it's just silver-plated. I lob the awful thing into the river with a huff.
"how can you tell?" asks the woman, peeking out of the water. "that could be the one you've lost."
"it's not."
"but you won't cut your losses and move on," she gestures wide, "one axe the richer?"
"that's too wide of a gesture for a cheap knick knack," I say, gesturing modestly in some approximation of how much I think the silver-plated axe is worth. the woman seems annoyed.
"I've been telling you, you have your real axe. the gold axe is the one that sucks."
"so what?" I spit. "are you suggesting I just use two cheap silver axes instead of my cool pure silver and gold axes?"
Training Room Tension (Wolverine x f!Reader, smut)
Pairing: Logan Howlett x F!reader
Summary: Training is just another form of foreplay between you and Logan. That's why no one trains with you guys anymore. It's just awkward.
Tags/Warnings: 18+, smut with a hint of sappy love and security at the end, dirty talk, taunting, unprotected sex, biting, spanking, rough sex, Rest In Piece(s) to your undergarments hehe, takes place in the X-Mansion, reader is some type of invulnerable mutant like Logan.
Word count: 2400
Author's Note: First time writing in forever! Praise be to "Deadpool & Wolverine" for bringing back my love and lust for Hugh Jackman. Wolverine in particular is one of my first loves. Shout out to by Bitchachos for reassuring me this obsession was okay. Love you guys! Thanks for reading and thanks to @pagesofivy for the title suggestion! I'm picturing older, thicker Logan from the 70s cuz of that mirror scene iykyk. But also love these XMen gifs. Ah hell I can't pick a favorite. He has aged sooooo well.
Hope people enjoy this and please don't be afraid to let me know! Words of Affirmation is my love language. LOL
I made a wolverine sideblog too because I want to reblog everything Logan and D&W related hehe ----> @feral4wolverine
Mobile Masterlist
The team rarely trains with you and Logan in the same room anymore. For a good reason too. Sure, in short exercises, they can manage you guys. You're both part of the team after all, but the longer training scenarios, they'll make do without. They just know their feral, indestructible teammates will do their part in the real world fights.
Because as much as Logan admires your strength and determination...he also cannot stand it. You're stubborn. You're defiant. You're a tease and he can't take it anymore.
“You’re slowing down, babe, and pulling your punches,” you tease, dodging his swing and sweeping his legs out from under him. He hits the ground with a loud thud. He rolls over, grabbing your ankle before you can get back up. He drags you along the mats as he stands. “Ah, nonono!” you laugh, your arms waving and trying to get a grip on the floor. You get your other foot under you and turn yourself over trying to kick or hook your leg around his neck to take him down.
It doesn’t work this time but at least he lets go of your foot. Back on even ground, you’re swapping blows, punches, and blocks. You curse almost as much as he grunts.
"Run that pretty little mouth one more time," he growls, his arms interlocked with yours as he blocks your attack again.
"Or what, old man?" You push back, breaking his hold, your skin is slick with sweat and it gives you an advantage over Logan…in more ways than one. You’re slippery and fast and his reaction time is slower as his gaze lingers on every inch of exposed, glistening skin.
He pounces and were he not already so close, you would have been able to dodge him. Your feet don't have a chance to gain traction though as you scramble to get away. He swiftly grabs you by the waist, tossing you over his shoulder.
The action is fast enough that it steals your breath away. You're kicking and protesting as he carries you out of the gym. All the tech and weaponry in the Danger Room have borne the brunt of Logan's claws too many times, so the two of you have been banished to the school's gymnasium. Logan takes two stairs at a time as he carries you off in the direction of your shared room. It’s far from the student’s quarters and the walls are soundproof from back when Logan’s nightmares were more frequent. They’re all but gone since you maneuvered yourself into his life.
(It’s technically still his room only, but he was never going to ask you to move in, so you’ve just started sneaking things in and leaving items behind until it was obvious. You know he’s noticed and cleared space for your abandoned items in his dresser, closet, and bathroom. He’s just too stubborn to admit defeat. And you’re happy to spare his ego and let him be the one to finally mention it.)
If anyone in the mansion hears your grumbling and cursing, they tune you out–already accustomed to you and Logan bickering. Your protests die in your throat as you take a sharp intake of air when he smacks your ass, his large hand definitely leaving a stinging mark. If it's not already red, he may spank you one or two more times...especially if you mouth off.
Once in his room, he tosses you onto his bed but you bounce back up and try to shove past him, a half-assed attempt to keep playing cat and mouse, to make him chase you some more. He hooks you around the waist and throws you back on the bed, this time bearing down on top of you. His body is strong, solid, and heavy with adamantium as he pins you down, his chest vibrating with a growl.
"No more talking."
"Oh baby, that's not how I fuck," you moan and hook one of your legs around his waist. One hand grabs his ass, giving you leverage to grind against him.
"Such a filthy mouth," he snarls, his teeth grazing your jaw before he nips at your ear. His facial hair scratches at your skin, raising goosebumps along your flesh. Your nipples tighten and ache, desperate for his mouth.
"You love it."
His chest vibrates with another deep growl just before he claims your mouth, your lips smashing together hard enough that your teeth make contact, and your lips get caught in the crossfire. There's a brief taste of iron but whomever it belongs to heals quickly, the sting relieved as his tongue delves into your mouth.
"Can't...stand it...anymore. Can't take it," he groans as he kisses you. He pulls away just to kiss and bite along your jaw, down the column of your throat.
"Poor thing, powerless to resist me?" you keen, your breath hitching as he bites your neck a little harder, his tongue soothing it a second later. You grind your hips, answering with your own moans, proud of yourself for getting a rise out of him. Your nails dig into his back, definitely tearing at his shirt. He pulls his head back and hisses as the sensation rides the border between pain and pleasure. He reaches for you, his hands shackling your wrists and pinning your arms by your head.
"Be a good girl for once and don't move," he commands you, releasing your hands so that he can take off his shirt and rip off his belt. He yanks your pants down, getting increasingly agitated as he struggles with the fabric. With your shirt, he pulls it up until it bunches around your wrists, effectively shackling you. As for your sports bra and underwear…
"Nonono!"
SNIKT!
"Sonuvabitch!" you curse as he cuts the fabric with one of his claws. He just chuckles. He's slowed down just for a moment to drag a single claw down the middle of your sports bra, along the line of your cleavage. Your breasts spill out as he cuts the straps next. Your breasts are bared to him and he lavishes them with the attention you crave. You no longer keep your hands above your head as you card your fingers through his thick hair, pulling on it as you arch your back and press your breasts further into his hands and mouth. He bites at your supple flesh as his fingers knead your nipples into aching peaks. A mewling whimper escapes your lips as you roll your hips against him some more but his jeans are still on.
"Are you gonna fuck me, or do I need to get myself off?" you challenge him while biting your bottom lip. His answer comes after he slides a hand down your body and rubs your pussy through your soaked underwear.
"Nobody makes you come but me, sweetheart," he says gruffly, his own arousal evident in his voice before he kisses you again, deeply, passionately, possessive. He steals your breath away and when he lets you up for air you gasp, your chest heaving as he's pinned your breasts between you. You love the feeling of his chest hair against your skin.
"Then prove it…Bub," you gasp, surprising yourself and giggling at the use of the nickname. He shakes his head with amusement, only slightly cringing at your joke.
The next thing you know, he's sitting up, unzipping his jeans and ripping your underwear off without the use of his claws. (You don't wear your nicer panties when sparring with Logan is on the schedule.) The sports bra, you'd thought you could save. His dick is straining against his boxer briefs but you hardly get a glimpse of his perfectly thick cock before he's pushing inside you.
Normally, you like it when he fingers you first. When he stretches you out with two or three fingers while he tongues and sucks on your clit. You lament the opportunity for beard burn on your inner thighs but you’ll make up for that some other time. For now you’re just as desperate for him, as he is for you.
"Mmm fuck," he growls as he bottoms out. "So fucking tight. So wet. Love the scent of you on my sheets." He hunches forward, burying his face in the curve of your neck. He bites and sucks a mark into your skin. It'll heal, but at least the two of you will know it was there. You rake your fingers through his hair, pulling on it, your nails scraping his scalp. You wrap your legs around his waist, locking your ankles in the small of his back.
"Yes, Logan, yes baby fuck me. Fuck me hard. Make me come," you urge him on, trying to roll your hips to match his rapid rhythm, but you can't keep up. The sensations are intense and overwhelming, until you've lost the strength in your arms and you just let yourself go. You submit to him in every way, allowing yourself to be used for his pleasure just as you know your pleasure is his. "Fuck, Logan, I'm so close…" you moan.
Your body is languid, liquid heat beneath him, your skin scorching hot no matter where he touches you. He drags his big hands down your body, starting at the base of your throat, over your heartbeat, kneading your breasts before sliding them down your stomach and grasping your hips. Changing pace to long, hard strokes, he rubs your clit with his thumb as he raises your hips off the bed. Your hips start bucking like you're trying to get away from the intensity of his thumb on your clit, but he keeps pulling you back to him, thrusting deeper as you two battle for release. You cry out, coming so hard your legs are shaking. You reach out to him and he extends one of his arms. Your fingers dig into his forearm as you hold on, feeling like you could fly off the bed, but Logan has you. He'll never let you go.
"Ohh, fuck," he groans, his mouth hanging open and his lips almost pulling back to bare his teeth like an animal. His eyes roll back as he nearly loses himself to the feeling of your orgasm, the pulsing sensation of your pussy squeezing him tight. You keep rolling your body, pushing and pulling with your grip on his arm, drawing out your climax. His fingers dig into your hips. He finally bares his teeth, growling, his face twisting into a feral snarl. "Fuck, baby."
He pulls out suddenly and you cry, mourning the loss of being full. But then he flips you over, fast enough to elicit a startled giggle. His smug chuckle is lost as you end up face down on the bed. You're about to get up to your hands and knees when Logan slams back into you, going deeper from this position. You moan into his pillow, noting his own unique smell of leather, cigars, and pine. His hand holds onto your shoulder for leverage as he starts piston his hips at a rapid pace, fucking into you from behind, pressing you into the mattress.
“Don’t stop. Keep going,” you urge him on, knowing that the moment it’s too much for you, if you say stop, he will. “Oh my god, fu--I'm gonna come again," you whimper. He lets out a rugged laugh and spanks your ass...once, twice, and then rubbing your skin to soothe the red marks before he grabs your ass to help you push back and ride his dick.
"Yesss," he hisses, "Yeah sweetheart, let it go, come again. I've got you," he grunts, the words oddly sweet in contrast to the pounding you're getting.
Your next orgasm is matched by his. You can't see him behind you but you know what it looks like when Logan comes. You love the way his nose scrunches up, his head falls back and then rolls to the side like he's about to crack his neck. Then he shakes head like he's clearing his head from the fog of mind-blowing sex. His body shudders, all of his muscles are tense, flexed, rock hard. If you were on your back, you'd be kissing and nipping at his broad chest as you rake your nails down his abs. For now, you can take in the sight of him by straining to look over your shoulder. His thrusts stutter to a complete stop as he fills you up.
"Yes, baby…yes, feels so good," you pant, praising him. The corner of his mouth turns up in a proud smirk. He takes a few deep breaths and slides his hand up and down your spine. You fully sink into the mattress, boneless and spent, and he leans over you, propping most of his weight on his arms beside you.
Your breathing synchronizes as you lay there together. He peppers your shoulders with open mouth kisses and gently nips at the curve of your neck as you expose it.
"You like that, sweetheart?" he murmurs softly in your ear.
"Mmm, yes," you answer, "always." Your eyes are closed as you focus on the remnants of pleasure coursing through your body. You press your ass against him, earning yourself a few more lazy, taunting thrusts from him. He pulls out, his dick still hard and throbbing with a stamina unmatched by your own. You clench your legs shut, determined to keep his seed inside you, as you both love a messy round two. He rolls onto his side, taking you with him until you're on your back and looking up at him.
"You drive me crazy, baby girl," he grumbles…with obvious affection as he nuzzles you and then softly kisses you.
"You love it," you defend yourself playfully.
"Mmmhmm," he growls his agreement before kissing you again, one hand slowly exploring the planes of your body once more. He loves it when you play hard to get. He loves it when you talk back and antagonize him. He loves having a partner who keeps up with him and then still kicks his ass in training. He loves it when you challenge his lone wolf act. He loves it all, because it makes these moments happen--moments where two seemingly invincible people can come together and feel safe enough to love and be loved.
-----
It's been 2 years since I posted any fics... I hope ya'll liked this! Let me know!
p.s. made a wolverine specific sideblog: @feral4wolverine
I don't know who needs to hear this, but as a creator -
I am fine with "the audience" -
downloading my fics
printing my fics
copy/pasting or screenshotting my fics
sharing your saved copy of my fics with anyone else who might want them in the unlikely but never impossible case that my fics are no longer available on ao3
making a book of my fic(s) and running your fingers across the pages while lovingly whispering my precioussss
doing these things with anything I create for fandom, such as meta, headcanons, au nonsense like 'texts from the brodinsons,' etc
I am not fine with "the audience"
doing any of the above with the purpose/intent of plagiarizing my work or passing it off as their own in any capacity
feeding my work into ai for any reason whatsoever
Save the fandom things. Preserve the fandom things. Respect the fandom things.
To others they’re just two beautiful boys in tshirts. Just two beautiful boys who turn heads. When one smiles it feels as if all the sun has been taken from the sky and it shines from his lips, his dimples a thing to concentrate one. When the other looks up at you from underneath his eyelashes it’s as if all the time in the world has stopped. Nobody breathes for the couple of seconds he passes his wanted attention on you. To others the muscles in their arms, the worn cotton of what they wear, the small scars that peak from their bodies. To others they are just two beautiful boys in tshirts. To others they are not two terrified children with no Mommy. Two small, scared boys with no Daddy. Just each other. Just freckles and dimples and sun coloured skin. To others they are just two beautiful boys in tshirts.
It’s pretty likely that it’s a four digit number, and as there are four digits chosen there, that means that there cannot be any repetition. This mean that there are:
n!/(n-4)! possible orders. As ‘n’ is 4 (number of digits available). 4!/0! which becomes 4x3x2x1/1 which simplifies to 24. That means that there are 24 possible combinations of codes. This would take you about two or three minutes to input all possible codes.
well ‘technically’ the code is most likley 1970. statistically, a majority of people, when told to choose a 4 digit code will choose their birth year. and this key pad is obviously a few years old to put it nicely, thats most likley it.
No, no, no. Don’t base your deductions of psychology. Let’s talk chemistry. When you first press a button, there’s more of the natural oils on your skin, and therefore it wears down the numbers on the keys faster. Obviously 0 is the first one, then. Try 0791 first.
Close, but not quite, I think. People will almost always choose a number they can remember. What’s memorable about 0791? Try 0719 - a birthday, 19th of July. That is more likely.
Well. Since you asked. I was on tumblr as this post was being built in 2013. The height of superwholock. Which has, since then, been declared peak cringe. So people picked new fandoms to openly love in earnest. Which were also eventually declared cringe. Eventually the youth decided to cut out the middleman, and declared loving anything in earnest to be fully cringe. So it has been a really long time since the day to day users of tumblr have let any fandom create anything nearing the cultural phenomenon that was superwholock. And it is exactly those cultural phenomena that are needed to create posts like this.
So. What happened? Cringe culture happened.
Try and imagine what would happen if this post wasn’t the “sacred texts” only ever seen in screen shots and in pinterest. Try and imagine any current pop culture detective media fandom creating this post today. They’d be slaughtered for being cringe by the time (in this case) Sherlock was mentined.
But because this post is 10 years old and completely broke containment, it’s celebrated when it graces our dashes.
I blazed a small fandom event announcement. Because I was genuinely excited to be part of a Big Bang for a wonderful movie. One of the first responses I got was “Why would you blaze this?”
Because of genuine excitement.
Because I wanted to celebrate the friends I’d met in the fandom
To spread joy to people who might also like the content but hadn’t seen it yet.
The fact that that was genuinely not realized made me sad. I love thing, I celebrate thing.
I’m too old for cringe. Cringe is dead. Love what you love. Enjoy the small things in life, it’s too short to do otherwise.
Sure, other platforms may call them “followers” too, but only Tumblr can capture the feel of a faceless crowd of huddled masses trailing after you about a city block’s distance away, picking up pages of your diary or scrawlings that you drop on the ground as you walk along. Some of these people have been there for years. Some only joined the crowd last week. Collectively, the crowd is ancient and ageless. Who are they? What do they want from you? Nobody knows. Walk a little faster.
i want to thank the 1920s-1930s third wheel who saw their two friends lying in bed together in their underwear and stocking garters reading a book with their legs wrapped around each other and said “i am going to take a photograph of this”
Reblogging this again because please, please click the link and look at the other photos but more importantly read the words written by the owners of the collection because it’s so touching and heart-warming
Recently, I was standing outside my son’s classroom waiting to talk to his teacher. I stood on one side of the hallway, not even close to the center. At some point, a man came walking along. I was standing right in his path, but the hallway was empty, so I logically expected him to swerve around me. Instead he kept walking right toward me, got to me, and stopped, as if waiting for me to get out of his way. I didn’t; I just smiled politely at him. He finally walked around me, clearly annoyed that I hadn’t leapt out of his manly path.
Now I’m wishing I’d leapt aside, taken off my jacket and laid it on the floor before him, then bowed deeply and said, “My Liege!”
I also work at a college campus. I smack shoulders sometimes, but I find that if I stare straight ahead and follow the advice below, people get the heck out of the way.
Honestly this post changed how I carry myself when walking alone in public, or in a situation where I’m the one leading. People definitely move for the murder gaze.
Confirmed. I once had to rush back inside a convention hall as the con was closing in order to a retrieve a sick friend’s medication, and I didn’t understand why people in the crowd were jumping out of my way (literally—one guy vaulted a table) until I realized I was dressed as the Winter Soldier and doing the Murder Walk because that’s just how I walk in those boots. I got the meds, got out, and made a mental note.
I repeated the experiment later, wearing the boots but otherwise my usual clothing and mimicking the expression I thought I’d had at that moment. People parted like I was Charlton Heston.
I now wear that style of boots whenever possible. I recently had a man do a double-take as I walked by and ask me, politely, where I had served because I “looked like a soldier.” I’m not current or former military. I was wearing a flowy purple peasant top and looked as un-soldierlike as possible.
Moral of the story: wear comfortable shoes, square your shoulders, and walk like you’ve been sent to murder Captain America.
IT’S BACK!!!!!! I was searching for this to show my daughter the other day and couldn’t find it. I’m so glad IT’S BACK!! I will always reblog the Murder Strut!!
In case you were wondering, yes you can do this in a wheelchair. Same look in your eyes and let ‘em know you will run them down. Just picture yourself in a sports car accelerating towards someone with the intention of flattening them.
If there’s anything more satisfying than watching Abled men leap out of my way when they realize I’m not moving for them, I can’t think of it atm.
OH MY GOD I HAD BARELY SCROLLED DOWN THIS POST AND WAS GONNA SAY “JUST TAKE SOME ADVICE FROM ME THAT I LEARNT FROM AN OLD TUMBLR POST ABOUT WALKING LIKE THE WINTER SOLDIER FROM YEARS AGO” BUT THEN IT TURNED OUT TO BE THIS POST
I first discovered this a few years ago when I was an insecure 14-year-old, and since then I indeed do the “murder strut” and staunch everywhere I go, literally works wonders
Back in HS, other kids would kinda stream behind me like the tail of a comet because I was several inches taller than most of the student population and the Murder Strut was just…how I walked. Amazingly effective.
I get people asking if they can walk with me past dangerous areas because of the Murder Strut plus being Tall.
It still didn’t work when I was living in South Korea and carrying groceries home and a dude on his phone was determined to walk on the wrong side of the sidewalk and straight into me.
I use the murder strut at my workplace in a high school. After a couple of years of being banged into by careless sophomores, I started employing it, and it has IMMEASURABLY helped me get through hallways. Do the teenagers know I am thinking MURDER and stalking hard? Probably not, but the body language read definitely projects the authority that I am not the librarian they want to bump today.
As we now know, Tumblr is $30 million dollars in debt. Oops. Tumblr has announced some major (and unpopular) changes to the site in their attempt to get back above water. The alternative is that Tumblr ceases to exist. But maybe we can change that...
How:
There are 327 million unique tumblr visits per month, and almost 500 million active accounts. If 10 million unique users (or less, if we bought more than one) bought or gifted Crabs from the Tumblr store, we could knock out Tumblr's debt easily. Buy crabs!
When:
July 29, 2023 is Crab Day, running through August 5 (for anyone who can't log on that day) as Crab Week!
Who:
Everyone!! If you truly can't afford to participate with a $3 crab, (or other item from the shop) post crab memes!
Time for Tumblr users to rise again and surprise everyone...
I’m sure all you Tumblr users have heard by now about the changes being made to Tumblr’s ecosystem so that the site can make more money. And I’m sure most of you are as uneasy as I am or, in fact, are angry about the proposed changes.
The reason they need to make more money is simple: Tumblr is $30 million USD in debt.
For this site to run and for them to pay employees, the site needs to generate revenue.
This place maybe a hellsite but it’s our hellsite. We are still here because we actually like it here. Besides, the other social media sites are crashing or will crash soon. Where else would we go?
Now, I did some research. There are at least 300 million users and over 500 million blogs. One of the cheapest things to buy on the Tumblr store is the crab package you can gift to another blog, which is $3 USD.
If each and everyone of us buys a crab package, we get to keep Tumblr alive and kicking. @oracleoutlook suggested that we make a holiday of it on July 29th. It seems to have resonated with people. Others have also asked for that to extend to August 5th, as some people don’t get paid til the beginning of the month.
Many people have already agreed to celebrate July 29th as Crab Day, a day of posting crab memes and gifting crabs to other users. And if you cannot afford to buy crabs, that is a-okay! Participate in the crab memes. Who would pass up the chance to make and reblog memes about crabs, after all?
This hellsite is ours. Let us remind them of that.
Re-Created Master @autoblocked - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
