#(I've talked about this before on here I think but not for a while)

[captain-kit-adventuress]

I haven't read any cozy fantasy, to be fair, but because these posts are mostly talking about the fundamentals of good writing while the fundamentals of cozy fantasy are taking more of a backseat, I feel comfortable throwing in my pov. I agree with all of the above, but I think we should probably add on discussion of why tension works even when stakes are low.

Given all of the GBBO mentions, let's liken writing a story to baking. So what differentiates a cake from bread from a biscuit from [insert thing here]? Mostly ratios. Cakes and breads and biscuits are all made with the same fundamental ingredients, for the most part, but the ratios of each differ greatly between them, as do some of the techniques used. A more traditional fantasy is mostly plot-driven. That's one ingredient. Of course, you still need character and setting and all the rest, but because a traditional fantasy tends to use a big window into its world, you'll need lots of plot and worldbuilding in the mix. There is The Quest or The Prophecy or The Villain's Downfall or The Hero's Redemption or whatever, and these kinds of story tropes require a lot of moving parts to get to the end. Character is still important in a plot-driven book because it will enrich whatever that plot is, but the big window you're opening will swallow up the characters if you're not careful to get the other ratios just right.

But a cozy fantasy isn't like that. The window is much smaller, and so the ratio of ingredients necessarily has to change. Tension vs stakes is a great way to think about that ingredient mix, but when you're shifting your main base, you also have to shift the ratios of the other ingredients or it's going to turn out wonky. With a smaller window generally comes a smaller (though no less important) story. We don't see as much of the world in a cozy setting, so focusing too much on worldbuilding might crowd out the other elements in the story and overpower them. What tends to fit well in a smaller window is character. But if you want to create tension instead of stakes--and it is incredibly important to know the difference between the two, as the above post illustrates well--you can't rely on plot so much. Tension is all about character.

The reason tension works in GBBO is not just because the characters care about the outcome, it's that we bond with them and care about it also. We want it to go well for them. (Or at least, go well for our favourites lol.) So with bland, uninspiring, nothing characters, even introducing tension isn't going to work well if readers have no reason to root for your characters, and wanting to see good in the world just won't cut it. In the case of the fantasy coffee shop idea, why do we care that this coffee shop survives? What makes the character care? What is the thing (or things) that makes the character get out of bed every day to run this shop? It doesn't have to be a big reason, either. It's not like it has to be to honour the memory of their dead mother whose dying wish was to own a shop like this, it needn't be dramatic. But it does have to feel like a real reason this person would be so motivated.

A different cozy genre that does this well is cozy mysteries, and those are all about characters. We always know there's going to be a murder (or at least the appearance of one). So that part of the plot is taken care of. What the author of a cozy mystery must do, then--besides solving the mystery--is tell us why that murder matters. The only question an author needs to answer before writing a cozy mystery after they've answered whodunit is why they did it. And you can only do that through the people that are still alive. The worldbuilding may contribute to it, but the murder doesn't matter except as it relates to the ones who are left in the aftermath.

Something I've noticed in recent years is that some authors are starting to approach independent stories like they do fanfic. To some extent, that's fine because good writing is good writing is good writing. One of the biggest differences between independent stories and fanfiction, however, is that fanfiction doesn't need a reason to exist. You can write that cute scene with no stakes and no tension and people will read it because it's like a deleted scene from the original, and it has all of the canon to support it. The existing canon is the primary reason fanfiction exists.

Independent stories are not like that. They must have a reason to exist outside of "this is cute and I like it." We readers don't have access to the world in your head in any other way than through the published material, and it's an author's responsibility when writing independent stories to give us that access. You have to show us why we should care, and if you're spending too much time worldbuilding and plotting and dialoguing and not enough time making us care about the people in the story, we're not going to be any wiser at the end, and tension vs stakes vs anything else isn't going to matter.

Cozy Fantasy and Why It Doesn't Work

I think I am among many who feel like they should love cozy fantasy and have found it an incredibly lacking genre.

This newly branded "cozy fantasy" genre that has taken readers by storm since 2020 and while it is new that books are now marketed as cozy, the genre itself isn't new. Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones is a great example of the genre before it was labeled and also how to make it work.

Cozy fantasy is defined by many as fantasy with low stakes. Fantasy aesthetic but less sword fights. On paper, it sounds great. But the execution has been less than stellar for readers like me. The lack of physical stakes has also impacted the emotional stakes of these books, creating forgettable characters with boring problems. As a romance reader, I find this frustrating. Romance is known for being a predictable and formulaic genre, the now defunct Romance Writers of America defined romances as needing happy endings, a term romances have continued to follow. Yet these romance texts manage to have low physical stakes (how to date your neighbor, how to confront your toxic friends, etc) while still maintaining high personal stakes that keep readers invested and begging for more. So I was initially confused why cozy fantasy authors struggle to write texts that connect to readers like me.

I think I have found the answer which is the genre is just here for vibes. It is all about aesthetic, not even worldbuilding that fantasy is known for as most cozy fantasy I read have so many problems as soon as you ask one question. It is hard to acknowledge that a genre that is pitched to work for readers like me doesn't work for many of us. Especially because occasionally there is one that works beautifully to my taste.

I often say my favorite cozy fantasies that are more contemporary are short and visual, which I plays into the idea of the genre being an aesthetic. The Bakery Dragon by Devin Elle Kurtz is a good example because it is a simple story that is given the perfect amount of pages and gorgeous visuals without dragging on when the message is very clear and easy to understand. Books like The Phoenix Keeper and Legends and Lattes have absolutely nothing for me, their very clear message hitting the reader over and over so the readers don't miss it and focusing on the aesthetic of worldbuilding rather than the reality of the fantastic elements within the world.

I guess my point is. . . I realize this genre isn't for me since I have realized it is more of an aesthetic than anything. .. .but I want it to be. Should I let it go and put my efforts elsewhere? Or should I keep exploring this new trend and find the hidden gems?

[archangeldyke-all]

hope you're feeling better by the ghosting! Lesbian dating scene is hard out here 😭 have an ask if you're up for it. Or you can just listen abt this scenario I have, totally fine either way just wanna let these thoughts out. And you're my fav sevika writer so! It's a bit angsty/comfort ig? Basically Sevika explaining to reader why it's such a struggle to say "I love you".

Not just because it's an admission of feelings for such a character but I think it's also cuz loving someone also means you have to accept anything could happen to either of them, esp since Zaun and her job are quite dangerous. So saying those 3 words feels like accepting that risk and continue on which is a big thing to do, it's like willingly leaving yourself open to potential heartaches. Idk just recently saw posts about how love is not just a feeling but also a choice, whether to stay/commit/any other reason the person feels what love is. Felt like if the reader is the first thing she's ever cared about and don't wanna lose her (whether it's a breakup, death etc,), she would struggle saying it cuz it feels like accepting that risk which she doesn't want to. She would still make up for it by showing her love & appreciation thru other means tho! Mb the reader had anxious thoughts on whether she reciprocated, or Sevika feels bad for not saying back for so long that she felt like she has to explain why she's struggling.

Sorry if I'm rambling too long 😅 hope you have a great year ahead, love your writing as well! ❤️

i love this sm <33

men and minors dni

even though you've lived in zaun your whole life, you understand that your life's been a lot softer than it could've been.

you've never had to worry about where you'll sleep at night-- you've always had a dry, warm bed to rest in.

you've gone hungry some nights, but you're lucky enough to have never gone more than a few days without a warm meal.

and your choice in career keeps you out of the line of danger; safe and inside most of the day, home before sunset each night.

so, while you're zaunite enough to know how to keep your head down and mind your own business, you understand that for most people life's a lot scarier.

sevika's one of those people.

sevika's known grief for almost as long as she's known how to talk. she's spent her fair share of nights in the cold, and she's gone to bed hungry more often than she's gone to bed full and satisfied. plus, sevika's dedicated her life to being a revolutionary. which means sevika has a lot of enemies.

so it's no surprise that lovey-dovey words come easier for you than they do for sevika.

it isn't until two years into your relationship that you realize she's never said she loves you. sevika has to be the one to point it out.

"i think i gotta call it an early night, baby. you stay up and finish the movie." you say around a yawn, leaning forward to kiss your girlfriend on the couch. sevika pouts.

"just sleep on top of me here." she requests. you snort.

"you'll throw your back out carrying me to bed."

"that's just offensive. i could lift three of you." sevika's pout worsens. "goodnight." she huffs. "give me another kiss."

you laugh and roll your eyes. "i love you." you say with exasperation as you lean in to kiss her. sevika stiffens against you. you pull away to study her face. "'s wrong?"

"you always say that." sevika whispers. you raise an eyebrow at her, climbing into her lap to hold her face between your hands.

"well, yeah. 'cause i do."

"i know." sevika says with a tiny smile. it makes your heart flutter. it's quiet for a moment as you wait patiently for your girl to gather her words. eventually, sevika sighs. "does it ever bother you that i don't say that to you?" she asks.

you frown in confusion. "what, that you love me?" you ask. sevika nods. you sputter a laugh. "yes you do, you say it all the time." you scoff.

sevika blinks up at you in shock. "no i don't." she says. "baby, i've never said it. to anyone. ever."

oh. well, that's surprising. you furrow your brow as you try to recall an instance where your girlfriend let the words slip, and you're shocked to realize that she, in fact, has not. "oh." you say.

sevika gulps. "does that... is that bad?" she asks.

you blink down at her, and your heart shatters. "oh, baby, no." you coo, kissing her frown. "no, that's not bad."

"but-- i should be able--"

"darling, i know you love me." you cut her off. sevika blushes almost as red as she did the first time she saw your tits. you smile, brushing your thumbs over her crimson cheeks. "you make that very clear."

"yeah but i--"

"you moved me into your sacred bachlorette pad three months into us meeting. yesterday, you came home from work with a stab wound, and tried to make me dinner before patching yourself up."

"it was just a scratch."

"i'm not finished. you call me stupid shit like sweetbean and cookie-- and you do it in front of other people! you! sevika; the scary lady of zaun!" she chuckles a little bit at this. "sevika, i didn't even realize you hadn't said it until you told me just now." you kiss her nose. "it's not bad."

sevika leans forward to bury her face against your neck, inhaling deeply. "i just... i want to say it." she whispers. you nod. "i wish i could say it like you do; just, whenever i feel it." god she's romantic. you choke back your own tears as you kiss her scalp. "but... if i say it..." sevika trails off.

"if you say it, it makes it real." you whisper, nodding. "it makes it somethin' you can lose." you can feel her hot tears on your throat. you don't mention it.

"y-yeah." she whispers shakily, her hands clutching at your hips desperately. "and i can't lose you."

"you won't baby. even if the worst happens, i'm yours forever. i'll haunt the shit outta you." this pulls a startled laugh out of her, and you grin. "you don't have to say it for the rest of our lives, if you can't. i won't mind. just as long as we're together."

and that settles it.

for a while...

sevika starts practicing.

she'll spell it out to you, 'i l-o-v-e you, baby.' or she'll whisper it to you when she thinks you're sleeping.

at the three year mark, sevika can say it when she's drunk enough. it's fucking adorable.

"i have somethin' import'nt' t' tell you..." she says with a waggle of her eyebrows. you burst into laughter.

"oh, do you?" you ask.

"mmhmm. look." sevika darts forward to peck your lips, then pulls back with a proud smile. "i love'ya." she slurs. you grin.

"i love you too, baby."

"an' if this jinxes everythin' and y' die-- y' gotta make the haunting obvious 'kay?" she asks. you cackle.

"alright, love."

by the time you're married, the words are almost compulsive for her. sevika can't leave a room without shooting a 'love you' over her shoulder at you. even if you're arguing.

"oh, so you've conveniently got a fuckin' 'meeting' in the middle of the night, on your night to do fuckin' dishes?! if you don't get in the kitchen and grab the sponge right now you're sleeping on the couch!"

"it's six pm, it's a dinner meeting! i'll do the dishes when i get back! you act like i'm fuckin' negligent, but you're the one who doesn't know how to properly clean a fuckin' toilet! janna, you annoy me-- i love you, i'll be back by midnight!" she huffs as she slams the door behind her.

despite how pissed you are-- you can't help but smile a bit at her words.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17

[gokyrts]

what about when patrón!carlos finds the little sister?

i das thinking about him being like "Eres libre de irte, I've found her" while he opens the door to his office and both girls storm out without a wors cause the youngest just wanted to get home but his princesita is no longer visiting cause she thinks that he doesn't want to see her ever again after all the strings he had to pull but he's actually craving g

hiii nonnie, sorry it took so long!! hopefully this will be enough of an apology <3

Read the introductory fic here!

18+ | warnings: cartel politics, mention of kidnapping, suggestive, Carlos getting handsy

wc: 1.3k

The blood in your veins nearly ran cold when you saw motorcycles pull up outside your home — the rev of engines deafening like the unmistakable energy the sicarios had around them. The rapping of knuckles against the front door spiked your anxiety. Standing frozen in your kitchen you didn’t dare move. Have they come for you too? More insistent rapping on your door and then a voice.

“Señorita, if you don’t open the door I’ll tell my boss his search was in vain and that he can return the little girl.”

Your heart hammered. He found her. Carlos found your sister. You sprinted to the door, nearly pulling it off its hinges as you threw it open.

“Where is she?”

Your insistence amused the man standing outside, his smirk widening.

“Whoa… easy,” he stopped you, eyes trained on your body. He licked his chapped lips and you suddenly felt self-conscious in your comfortable home attire. “Throw something pretty on, hmm? Then we can go.” With that he turned on his heel and walked back to his motorcycle, hip cocked against it and waiting for you to change.

You threw on a dress that had just finished drying in the evening sun and walked back outside, earning a few whistles from the men who came to pick you up. Avoiding their gazes, you approached the sicario who talked to you. He checked you out thoroughly and it was just as uncomfortable as the first time.

“Not bad. Hop on.”

His words were ringing in your mind nearly the whole ride but the closer you got to the safe house the more you thought about reuniting with your sister. When you got there, the procedure went as you expected — you were patted down by a pair of bold hands before being allowed inside and even then you were accompanied by armed men.

Carlos was leaning on his desk, his large hand wrapped around the handle of a gun, the other using a rag to clean the barrel. He noticed the bated breath with which you arrived, your eyes searching the room for any presence of your sister. Yet the room was devoid of any other woman except you. You searched his eyes next, the unspoken question hanging on your lips.

“Señor Sainz,” you breathed out, acknowledging the man.

Carlos put the rag down next to him on the table but the gun stayed in his right hand. You were defenseless yet intimidation tactics were used on you, to make you feel a bit more helpless and indebted. You swallowed thickly before speaking.

“T-They told me you found her…”

The stutter didn’t help your case, it only made everyone in the room want to play a little more.

Carlos loaded the gun, the metal clicking in place reminding you of the cold sweat on your palms. You watched as he tucked the gun into his pants, the masculinity with which the grip stuck from behind his belt making you scrunch your nose.

“Sit down. You look like you’re about to faint.” His voice was every bit like honey over your ears but you knew there was poison in it despite the initial sweetness. Nonetheless, you pulled the leather chair by his desk up and took a seat. Your hands were folded in your lap and you felt smaller than before, even more when Carlos stood up at his full height. He circled you like the predator he was, getting ready to pounce on his prey.

“Sí, I found your sister. She is safe.”

That fact made you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, relaxing in your seat. But your relief was cut short when you felt his hands on your shoulders.

“But it was no easy feat,” your shoulders slumped under his wide palms and thick fingers. The pressure made you burrow further into the leather chair with no hope of escaping. “lives were lost… for your fairytale rescue.”

Your breath hitched. The weight of his hands seemed to grow gradually. The fingers of his right hand toyed with the strap of your dress. From his perspective, Carlos could see into the lowcut dress, the tops of your breasts on display for his hungry eyes. You had to remind yourself they were all criminals… or else the guilt would eat you alive.

“I-I’m sorry for your loss…” you forced out. The weight wasn’t only physical but psychological too. Your father left you a debt, and you added to it by asking for a favor, now you owed Carlos Sainz more than two lives.

Carlos hummed, his thumb sliding up the back of your neck, gently pushing your head forward, seeing how pliable you were under him. His other hand was dangerously close to pushing off the strap of the dress off your shoulder.

The touch was making you more uncomfortable by the minute and forced your next words.

“Please, can I see my sister?” you whimpered, not able to take the pressure any longer.

The corner of Carlos’ mouth twisted up in a smirk and he squeezed you before taking a step back. He mentioned to one of the guards, who opened the door next to him and shouted something down the hall.

Your heart pounded against your ribcage but in a few seconds, your little sister appeared from around the corner. Before you knew it you were sprinting in her direction, enveloping her into a tight hug. She looked exhausted, dirty, and beyond scared but once she was in your arms, she relaxed, clinging to you.

Carlos watched in amusement, feeling a strange sense of nostalgia at the sight but he pushed it aside, as there was no time for softness.

Despite the need to take care of your sister immediately, you knew there was something you had to do first.

“Gracias, señor.” you replied, turning back to the man but you knew your words did little to repay him. His fingers caught your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his. Carlos looked you up and down, lingering on your chest before speaking. ”You’re free to go but remember… I didn’t do it for her, I did it for you, princesa.” The reminder was crushing, the intimate petname sending chills over your body. You would have stood there still had your little sister not squeezed your hand, her comfort more of a worry than the favor or two owed to the most dangerous man in the city.

“Sí, señor.” Your reply was firm, a bitter acknowledgment of his power over you.

The tone of your voice made Carlos smirk and his hold on your chin relaxed. He nodded next, letting you leave but the smugness with which he leaned back against his desk made you feel you weren’t as free as you had hoped.

Your sister and you were escorted outside the compound where the guards slammed the door behind you and you made your way home.

The following days were filled with dread. Your sister noticed you by the windows more often, on lookouts, not hiding your anxiety well.

“Why did you go to Sainz of all people?” she said to you one morning, making you furrow your brows in confusion.

Upon seeing that, she clarified. “You could have contacted the police, DEA…”

You felt anger brew in your stomach at her words.

“And how successful are they at getting hostages back? If Sainz hadn’t found you so quickly you could have been dead!” you snapped back, turning away from the window.

The way she flinched had you feeling guilty. She went through hell she barely told you about at the hands of the other cartel.

“Sainz was the only option…” You softened your tone and put a hand on her shoulder, which seemed to comfort her. She nodded, trying to understand even if you knew she had doubts about your decision.

The moment was interrupted by the chilling sound of revving motorcycles and you felt your heart drop. Turning back to the window, your eyes were met with a familiar sight — Carlos’ sicarios.

Your sister got up too and her voice broke through the barrage of sound.

“So you got me out and gotten yourself in, huh?”

want more patrón!Carlos? Lemme know in my ask box!!

2025 @ gokyrts . do not distribute or translate my work on other sites.

[im-so-normal-iswear]

Ahem can I request what shadow would do with his s/o when they have nightmares?

A/n: I've actually only had a nightmare once, and I don't really consider what I had one, so idk how well this is written

Shadow x s/o with nightmare

You wake up with a jolt, your heart pounding against your ribs. you shook ad you heaved in and out heavily. The room is dark, but you can make out Shadow’s silhouette, sitting in his usual spot by the window. He’s always up late, either lost in thought or silently keeping watch. His eyes flick to you almost immediately, keen as ever to notice the change in your breathing.

"You’re awake," he states, his voice low and quiet, more an observation than a question. He’s by your side in moments, moving with the same silent precision you’ve grown used to. The mattress dips slightly under his weight as he sits beside you, his hand hesitating before settling gently on your shoulder.

"You had another one, didn’t you?" Shadow asks, softer this time. His voice, though stern, had a touch of concern in it.

You nod, unable to find your voice yet. The nightmare still fresh in your mind as you tried to regulate your breaths. Shadow notices. Of course he notices. He’s always observant when it comes to you.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks, his hand shifting to rest against your back, a small gesture of comfort that feels grounding.

You shake your head. "I... I don’t know. I don’t think it’ll help."

Shadow’s eyes narrow slightly, not out of irritation but in thought. He knows nightmares well, too well. He knows the weight they leave, how they linger like a shadow you can’t shake. Still, he doesn’t push you. That’s one thing you appreciate about him, he respects your boundaries, even if he’s tempted to press further for your own sake.

"All right," he says after a moment, standing abruptly, grabbing a blanket. "Come on."

You blink, startled. "What?"

"You’re not going back to sleep like this," he says matter-of-factly. "We’re going outside."

"Outside? Shadow, it’s the middle of the night!"

"Fresh air helps clear your head," he replies, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. "Trust me."

You sigh but find yourself sliding out of bed anyway. there was no poing in arguing, and frankly you were too tired to anyways.

Shadow leads you out to the quiet woods near your home, the two of you walking in comfortable silence. The cold night air nipped at your skin, but Shadow draped the blabket he took over your shoulders keeps you warm. He walks just ahead, glancing back every so often to make sure you’re keeping up. The moonlight filters through the trees, casting silvery patches on the ground, and you find yourself focusing on the sound of his footsteps and the rustle of leaves.

After a while, Shadow stops at a clearing. He gestures for you to sit, spreading the blanket out on the grass. "Here," he says, sitting beside you. He tilts his head back to look at the sky. "Look."

You follow his gaze. The stars are brilliant tonight, scattered across the inky sky like shards of a diamond. For a moment, you forget entirely about the nightmare as you gaze up at the night sky.

"Better?" Shadow asks, his voice quieter now.

You nod. "Yeah. Thanks."

He doesn’t say anything, but the slight upward twitch of his mouth tells you enough. Shadow leans back on his hands, his usual stoicism softening in the starlight. "You’re stronger than you think," he murmurs after a while. "Whatever it is you’re afraid of... it will not overtake you. Not while I’m here."

The two of you sit there in comfortavle silence for a moment.

Eventually, he nudges your shoulder gently. "You should try to sleep. I’ll keep watch."

You hesitate, but the exhaustion tugs at you. Lying down on the blanket, you close your eyes, taking in the nights hidden sounds. Cricket chirping, the leaves of the trees around you gently clashing against each other and shadiws steady breathing next to you. It was all almost harmonious.

As sleep starts to claim you, the last thing you hear is his voice, low and steady "I’ve got you. Nothing will hurt you while I’m here."

[ultimateplaylistmaker]

Oh I don't think I've seen the addition, SO TRUE, Makoto is very selfless in a very selfish way, he doesn't want anyone to die, even if they're the worst people humanity has ever known, because they are people. The worst you can get from him is him admitting to not feel overly bad they died, see his reactions to Celeste, but even then he's still upset and frustrated because she was a human being and no human being deserves to die. Not Celeste, not the Remnants, and not Junko.

Makoto cannot be conflated with Future Foundation, because Makoto constantly butts heads with Future Foundation. He does not like Future Foundation very much, he doesn't trust it, he doesn't really like the people there it seems, and they don't like him either. They're basically forced into working together because Makoto has the brand and Future Foundation has the resources. Even then though, they are ALWAYS at each others throats.

Even before DR3, you see hints of that in the emails Future Foundation sent Makoto in Goodbye Despair in how they assume he was tricked by the remnants, but at the same time they had forced the remnants onto him before they knew they were remnants because they were vaguely the same age.

This also gets mirrored more in UDG when you see that people are NOT really fully sold on Future Foundation, distrusting it, and while some of that is propaganda by Towa, the general vibes of "we cannot trust Future Foundation" are everywhere when they even vaguely get brought up, and there's got to be more to it. Future Foundation needs Makoto for their image, but they do not respect Makoto, and they especially don't respect any of the survivors outside of like maybe, Byakuya and Kyoko somewhat.

Toko is STILL running around in the same ragged outfit in UDG, and while Toko is unhygenic, at some point that's gotta stop being an actual choice and more they straight up might not have other clothes for her because it's gotten REALLY ragged and I'd like to think by that point she'd at least put on a fresher version. The survivor and Future Foundation are not friends, they are extremely uneasy allies, ones that Makoto was more then happy to cut ties with for GBD.

However besides that Makoto is very much a person struggle to understand or connect to, which you can see in Chihiro's FTE's where Chihiro notices they've been doing all the talking and Makoto hasn't had any chance to talk about himself, then has to directly ask Makoto to actually talk about himself, and even then, HE FORGETS HE SAID HE'D DO THAT it takes THREE free time events to get Makoto to open up AT ALL to Chihiro despite Chihiro clearly wanting to know about him.

Which even when he DOES he barely says anything about himself, one of which is just a straight up self deprecation, before the conversation shifts BACK TO CHIHIRO'S PROBLEMS

Actually, there is one other really interesting bit here when Chihiro addresses their issues with inferiority and Makoto actually opens up a bit because it's in the name of Chihiro's problems, not his own.

Makoto directly states that he feels inadequate and ordinary, forgettable even. He's painfully aware that he's just, average. Then when asked how he overcomes it, he straight up says he doesn't think he can, and instead he just accepts it and doesn't let himself think about it. Saying he's accepted it and just distracts himself, which very much implies he has not in fact, accepted it. Makoto displays these SAME BEHAVIORS as the Ultimate Hope. He throws himself into bigger and bigger hard projects, things that let him forget.

Makoto is actually has a lot of avoidant personality traits at times, and they make up some of his worse self deprecating habits. So of course he sees a situation like Junko's or the Remnant's and just, be avoidant about what they've done. Downplaying, or denying, or talking around it, he does not let himself come to terms with anything, because he runs from it. He doesn't think about what they've done, he focuses on the problem of how to save them.

Really, it's a willful ignorance even, he knows logically what they've done, and says he accepts it, but refuses to process it on any emotional level and doesn't think about it. He goes "well they've done horrible things, and i accept that so lets just not let them die" then doesn't actually process what any of that... actually says and means. What they've actually done, what it means to let them live and let these terrorists who have tortured thousands of people, one of which who has led to the downfall of basically an ENTIRE nation, casually live on a deserted tropical island by themselves.

The ethics of whether he did the right thing are not could be debated for fucking hours with no solid conclusion one way or the other. Especially since he fucking leaves before he can even... confirm that the other remnants won't wake up as remnants. Really, his avoidance is what leads him to these great feats of hope, and there is hope don't get me wrong, he's very much an embodiment of hope and a lot of how he avoids has roots in that overwhelming Hope he's capable of. He's still distracting himself from what that means though, still running from himself and the deeper ramifications of everything, still hiding behind the excuse of just being some average person.

He doesn't come to terms with what he is, and what he's doing, because he doesn't think he can cope, he can't overcome it, so he runs into bigger and bigger projects on what can seem like a whim without thinking through them, he can't stop running, if he stops running, it'll catch him, so he needs to keep running.

Junko didn't let him run though, Junko never lets him run, never lets him sit in his denial or pretending that he's just accepted it. Which is definitely one of the reason she has such a profound impact on him.

I don't even know if this makes sense anymore but uh yeah, Makoto is REALLY INTERESTING and I'm biting anyone who pretends like he's not so they can make some joke about how clearly people only Makoto because he's baby.

you ever think about how makoto naegi can understand anyone but no one understands makoto naegi. and that this is the one fundamental thing he shares with junko enoshima.

[mythicmanuscripts]

Aemond and Aegon’s (separately) top three kinks and top three favorite forms of aftercare?

Oooo very good question Anon!! I'm gonna write a little bit about each of my thoughts on this and then leave the rest up to you lads

NSFW sub!aemond and aegon below the cut!

AEMOND - TOP THREE KINKS:

Service. Obviously. This should come as no surprise to anyone. He doesn't just want you to order him in the bedroom, he wants you to tell hm how to help you and be good for you. He has to feel useful.

Hair pulling. I know this one is kinda basic but there's no way he doesn't enjoy this. Usually he's not too hectically into pain play but there's nothing that gets his knees to buckle faster than when you grab the hair at the nape of his neck, just turns him to jelly.

Ownership. Again a no brainer here. He wants to feel like he's yours and yours alone. No one else can touch him, no one else can even look at him. Let him wear a collar and tug at it while calling him yours and he may genuinely just cum on the spot.

AEGON - TOP THREE KINKS:

Dumbnification. Nothing he loves more than when you gather him into your arms and tell him that he obviously can't look after himself, you must do it for him. He can't think, and he doesnt need to think, not when you call him pretty and kiss his head and tell him he doesnt need to worry about a single thing.

Overstimulation. This shouldnt be much of a surprise either. He absolutely loves when you push him to the brink, when you wring as many orgasms out of him as you can until he's just. a blubbering mess. Also he'll become a nuisance to the entire keep if he goes to long without it.

Competence kink. I actually can't believe I've never thought about this him before. Aegon knows he's not the smartest and he's been looked down upon for that his entire life. He absolutely hates being made to feel stupid, but at the same time nothing turns him him on quite like knowing his do is an expert in this and he'll be very well look after. He just gets so flustered and turned on when he gets to watch you in your element, when he can see first hand how good you are at what you do.

AEMOND - TOP THREE AFTERCARE FORMS:

Debrief - The first and most important to Aemond actually only happens once the scene is over and you're both pretty well recovered. He has to have a debrief afterwards, to hear what you thought and how you felt and to share his own perspective. if he skips this part of the aftercare then he'll feel off and unsettled for the rest of the day.

Reading - as we know, Aemond has studied history extensively. It's because of this love for history that you like to read some of his favourite history books to him while he recovers. You always ensure to choose a book you know he's already read, because he doesn't want surprises or to have to pay attention. He wants to just float as he listens to your voice.

If he doesn't want the reading, then quiet time if the next option you always go with. Aemond absolutely adores being able to let go and enter subspace with you, but when he comes up back up he can often be extremely sensitive to light and sound until he's recovered more. So often aftercare is just letting him slowly come down while he snuggles against your chest.

AEGON:

Cuddles. I know cuddles is implied in pretty much all aftercare thoughts but for this little grade A clinger it deserves its own category. For him it's not just that eh wants cuddles, it's that he won the able to recover otherwise.

Following on from cuddles, he also has to be in the same room as you for aftercare. If you forgot to bring snacks before the scene starts then you have to call a servant and ask for them to be brought out because if you even looked like you might be leaving he'd just burst into tears, completely inconsolable.

Lastly, he just loves when you talk to him while he slowly recovers and comes back. Aegin tends to become much quieter when he's in subspace and this can carry through to his aftercare. Unlike Aemond, reading him a story is never a good idea because the poor little thing can barely concentrate on it. But when you just keep a near constant monologue of your day? Incredible. He lets you voice wash over him without a care in the world.

[moonmaiden1996]

Totally agree 💯 with your thoughts on Sanji as a romantic partner (he's my favourite 🥰). What is your opinion on him as a sexual partner? I somehow see him still as a virgin (would have died from that massive nosebleeding) 🤣 and shy, afraid of not pleasing his woman. Maybe more vanilla than into kinks. Lot of cuddling, kissing and holding hands. 🤔 What you think?

I love this question. Sanji is also my fav- you have good taste.

Okay, buckle up, folks—I've put some serious thought into this, and here comes a full-blown essay.

First off, I’m convinced Sanji is a virgin. Hear me out. I think even Oda might’ve hinted at this somewhere? The guy’s all about the romance of the relationship, not the deed itself. His intensity about love probably scares off anyone looking for casual fun. Add to that his chronic nosebleeds at even the hint of affection or attraction—it’s safe to say it takes someone very special to get over him losing his entire supply of blood through his nose to get to that level.

But let’s talk about Sanji as a lover. The man is a giver, full stop. His happiness comes from making you happy, no matter the lengths he has to go to. Sanji’s the kind of guy who could literally lose himself in your pleasure—like, "Oh, you’re enjoying this? Great, I’m done!" He’s probably the type to cum in his pants while he’s focusing on you.

In the early stages of your relationship, Sanji would be laser-focused on perfecting his technique. Picture him pouring over every guide, every book, every questionable magazine he can find to up his game. And don’t think he’d stop there—oh no, this man would shamelessly eavesdrop on his fellow crew members for tips. And yes, I absolutely believe he’d practice on a half-eaten peach in the privacy of his room. (RIP peaches, forever ruined for him he can't go near them without his pants tightening .)

Being the hopeless romantic he is, Sanji’s all about slow burns. He’d wait until marriage, all while showering you with kisses and cuddles—he thrives on emotional and physical connection. That said, if you weren’t a virgin, he’d be down for a little extra physical affection before marriage and the big event (cue eyebrow waggle). He wouldn’t mind your past; he’d just be thrilled to share this new chapter with you. And hey, if you’ve got pointers? Even better. Sanji’s a fast learner with a willingness to please.

Now, if you were a virgin, Sanji would handle it with the utmost care. This man would be terrified of messing it up and you never want him to touch you again (I feel like this is the biggest fear for him getting physical with you, that and hurting your even the slightest bit). Hence lots of prep, oils, and constant check-ins to make sure everything feels just right. He’d follow your instructions to the letter, treating the whole experience like a sacred ritual.

Now for the spicy part: fetishes.

I’m torn here. On one hand, I could see Sanji keeping things vanilla—classic positions, whatever works best for you, with a side of soul-stirring romance. But let’s not forget, this man is also prone to dramatic flair. I wouldn’t be shocked if he pulled out some next-level One Piece tantric lovemaking just to keep things interesting.

On the kinkier side, I think a breeding kink might be on the table. Sanji dreams of a big, loud, loving family, and the "practice makes perfect" mindset tracks perfectly with his character. Beyond that, he’d be open to experimenting—but with clear boundaries. Anything involving harm or discomfort? Absolutely off-limits. Sanji wants you happy and safe, always. Nothing you do or say will persuade him. Side note thought - he would be very down to mark you up with hickeys, something that doesn't hurt you but tells everyone your his really hits his possessive needs.

That said… I do get strong "step on me, mommy" vibes from him. Just putting it out there. Take that as you will.

At the end of the day, Sanji is all about love, care, and devotion. Whether he’s cooking for you, cuddling with you, or, ahem, other things *wink wink*, he’s 100% in. He lives to see you happy, and your joy and pleasure is the greatest reward for this passionate, hopeless romantic man.

[lesson-in-ruthlessness]

Ruthlessness Is Mercy — KOTLC fanfic

Description: Flashbacks throughout Grady's childhood. Grady and Vespera finally meet. Grady is pathetic and sexy while Vespera is evil and sexy. This will probably be a series if yall like it. Neverseen!Grady series.

————————————————————————————————

It's ok to feel… troubled when you manifest as a Mesmer. The mind is something greatly idolized, and manipulation of it is scrutinized.

Grady laid on his bed as he flipped through the pages of his new, Foxfire-issued textbook, dramatically sighing each time he flipped to a new page.

Lots of diagrams, he thought as he studied a diagram of an elven brain, this isn't freaky at all!

He closed the book and looked at the title, hoping it would change the outcome of the results.

A Beginner’s Guide to Being a Mesmer.

Instinctively, he turned the book over so he couldn't see the title, hoping it wasn't real.

Grady was still dealing with the uprooting of his entire life. Ever since he manifested, his family wouldn't talk to him and his Foxfire peers would look at him as if his entire existence was a taboo.

He knew they were right.

His ability to entrance then control the wills and minds of others wasn't banned outright, simply anyone with it was virtually a pariah.

As his thoughts stirred, he had no idea what that bubbling feeling in his chest was, as he began to choke on his tears; thinking about everything he was losing.

Once you learn how to manage this daunting power, it will be like you never manifested in the first place.

———

“Finally, I get to meet you in person. You're as…mesmerizing as they say.” A pale gray elf with very pointy ears emerged out of the shadows.

Grady shuddered at her voice. He didn't know who was addressing him, all he knew was that his mission was being compromised. “That’s a thinking cap, isn't it.” Grady said, pointing to the head dress the elf was wearing. “It’s why I can't sense your mind.” He laughed starkly. “That is, unless I've officially lost it.”

“You’re rather clever, however not clever enough to know this is not a hallucination.” The elf said, appearing on the other side of the room.

“Two questions. How do you know who…and I'm assuming what, I am? What do you want?”

“There’s only so many Mesmers on the Nobility. Isn't it unfair?” She smiled a cold smile, “as for the second question, you'll just have to find out.”

“Once I figure out who…and where you are… I'm going to rip that thinking cap off your head. Then we'll see who's laughing.”

“You’re rather bold for someone who just started his job as an Emissary.”

“I've been here for a decade, miss whoever you are,” Grady said, observing the walls.

Mirrors, he thought.

“A decade is a rather short amount of time, especially for an elf.” She smiled, her image shifting to another mirror.

“You’re an Ancient, aren't you?” Grady looked around for a way out. “I’m asking one more time, what do you want?”

“Your help.”

—-------

“This is in no way a bad idea,” Grady whispered to himself as he stood on the Bramble field. “Get in their heads, get the ball. Like you have before. Two people is nothing.” He said that last part again, as if he was trying to convince himself of it. Then, he exhaled and said “game on.”

A whistle blew and Grady took off running towards the opposing team's bases.

Bramble was the one place in school where he wasn't an outcast. In fact, he was the opposite. Due to his ability and Bramble allowing abilities, he was the star player on the Foxfire Bramble team. He knew that for the most part, he was seen more as an asset, but it felt good to have a community.

He spotted two people running towards his team's base and exhaled again. “Change of plans. Go for one. This could be…” he hesitated for a moment. “Fun.”

He closed his eyes and locked in on the mind of one of the people, a girl, feeling his energy coursing through hers. It was almost a calming feeling as he felt their energy become one. Then, felt his take over hers. He opened his eyes and saw her, feeling her attempts to move. He let out another sigh as he focused his energy on launching her towards the other person running. Watching intently and with a slight feeling of horror, he made her tackle the other elf.

Once he saw a few elves run to the tackled boy to help, Grady ran for the ball.

————

“You’re going to ask me for assistance and not even give me a name?” Grady asked through his laughter.

“Why do you need a name?” The Ancient asked. “It's not in any of your Elvin History books, rest assured.”

“I am assured,” he said, walking towards a mirrored wall. “Very assured.”

Grady drew back a fist and punched a mirror, the glass shattering into a seemingly infinite amount of pieces.

He did it again. And again. And again, until he was standing in a pool of shards. He looked at his fists, which were bloodied.

Most elves aren't used to the sight of blood, let alone their own. However, between his time playing bramble and the Council giving him more…unsettling missions, he had seen his own blood plenty of times.

He looked around again for the Ancient, but couldn't find her. Then, he picked up a glass shard and wielded it like a knife. “This is the last time I'm asking nicely. What do you want with me?”

“And what are you going to do about it? You're practically defenseless.” She laughed another bone-chilling laugh. “Anyways, I want your help to change the world as we know it.”

“Very funny. You cannot demand my help without even giving me an actual face.” Grady waved the makeshift knife around.

And then, she stepped out of the shadows. Then, Grady ran behind her and stuck the mirror shard to her throat. “One more word,” he said through gritted teeth, “and I’ll slash.”

“You wouldn't do that. At the end of the day, you're still an elf. You're fragile.” She grabbed the shard out of his hand with ease and pointed it back at him. “You, however, would be quite the interesting specimen to study.” She grabbed his hand and carved a line in the palm.

Grady winced but through the pain, grabbed another shard with his free, less bloody, hand. This time, instead of holding onto it, he threw it at the Ancient. It got caught in her cheek and she smiled. She took out the bloodied shard without even flinching. “It makes sense that one like you has the capacity to be so… ruthless.”

“What do you mean ‘one like you,’” Grady asked.

Deep down, he knew the answer. He knew it was because— as far as elves went— he was essentially hardened to violence. He was almost human in that aspect. While he burst into tears at the sight of an animal being hurt and rush to help, he's the only elf he knew that would scrape and bleed and even scar. He's the only elf he knew that didn't really care that he did, of course he'd stop by a Healing Center and patch up, but in the moment, he'd wince but there would be no shock.

He had a theory on why he was like that as well. It was because of his damned ability, it was an inherently violent one to him. Even as a kid, he held the belief he was dangerous. Therefore, he didn't really care about what happened to him, only the people he was close to; if he ever met someone he was close to.

Despite knowing the answer, the Ancient answered “your history, Grady. The Troll incident. The Bramble championships.” She wiped her cheek and showed him the blood. “You made and Ancient bleed. You're as ruthless as you are ostracized. With your help, we could reshape the world. A world where you won't be judged for something you couldn't control. A world without being viewed as evil for something you were burdened with. Not something you desired.” She offered out her hand for a shake.

He observed her hand, which was as gray as the rest of her skin. “Before I accept your generous offer, what's your name?”

“Vespera.”

Grady shook Vespera’s hand with his cut one.

————————————————————————————

taglist: @nowjumpinthewater @camelspit (this was YOUR idea) @crescentpaws (it evolved a bit since we last spoke)

[mcrdvcks]

okay, so when i first saw this posted i couldn't wait to read it... but it was like the week before thanksgiving and i had two midterms and even more assignments due so i put it off. but now, i've finally had time to read this and it was well worth the wait!

so, here we go, it's gonna be a bit long so just work with me (this is my version of highlighting on my kindle)

“Doesn’t look like she wants to talk,” Logan replied, glancing at the door. His fists clenched instinctively. The thought of this guy forcing his way in, disturbing her, made his blood boil. “So maybe you should take the hint and get lost.”

i don't care if this trope is 'overdone' because it's gets me all giggly when a character is protective over someone, especially when they're so strong about consent. (no means no dude!)

The guy didn’t budge, his face twisting with frustration. “You’re being unreasonable. This is all because of that stupid job, isn’t it? You think you’re too good for me now, huh?”

i could be reading into this, but could she be the journalist? (i read too many mystery books as a child.) i'm writing notes as i read so i'm not sure yet

She took a breath, exhaling slowly as she glanced away, her jaw clenched. “You don’t get it, do you?” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Guys like you think you’re doing me a favor, stepping in, trying to… ‘protect’ me. But all you’re doing is making me feel like I can’t handle my own life. Like I’m weak. And I’m not.”

this hit hard, because while i would like to believe if a man like logan had taken to protect me, in real life i'd probably be more like this. i love how reader, though shy, stands up for herself!

“Oh,” she said quietly, a forced, brittle smile tugging at her lips. “So… what? I only look beautiful when I’m dressed up? When I’m… like this?”

a-are you in my room? in my head?? please get out because this is absolutely something i would feel (and have felt before). it does hurt when the only time someone makes a nice comment is when your dolled up and not when you feel most like you.

Logan could feel his pulse pounding in his ears, the urge to step outside and tell this guy to back off building with each word. But he held himself in check, forcing himself to stay silent, to let her handle it. She didn’t need him barging in like some kind of white knight, as much as he wanted to.

the fact that logan actually listened to what she said and followed through, letting her handle it? that's a real man.

Sanctuary - Part One

Logan and Wade are sent by Stryker to find a journalist who has been digging around trying to expose Team X. Logan isn't prepared when he meets an intriguing neighbor causing him to question himself and the mission.

origins logan howlett x fem!reader - team x mission, shy reader, no y/n, she/her pronouns used instead of you, logan's pov, origins wade, awkwardness, guarded feelings, angst, AU, crushes, logan kinda being a stalker, stryker and victor cameos, fighting, cussing, wade being a good friend, reserved logan

a/n: Okay buckle up because this is a long author’s note but when do i not make an essay? I’m an origins girlie and will find any excuse to write about origins logan (it was the first fic i wrote) so here we are with another one. Idk if this makes sense—maybe it’s an AU where logan just works with team x but somehow doesn’t go through the weapon x program idk, okay. It started as a one shot of shy reader (the club scene) then ended up becoming the longest thing i have ever written for logan. I’ve been working on it for the past 2…maybe 3 weeks and yeah…finally posting it after editing it. I was gonna make it a sad, angsty ending but i can’t do it, i just can’t. Logan deserves happy endings. P.s. it’s from logan’s POV that’s why it’s she/her pronouns instead of you. I’m used to writing in third person (creative writing major here) but for fics i usually do second person but here i just wanted to do something different. So sue me.

apparently this is too long to post in one go so here's part one and here's part two

word count: 40k

divider credit: @enchanthings

Logan rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to ignore the endless stream of chatter pouring from Wade’s mouth. It was like trying to drown out the buzz of a fly that just wouldn’t leave him alone.

“Logan?” Wade’s voice cut through the humid night air like a blade.

“Wade, for the love of God, shut up,” Logan muttered, low and gruff. “I can’t hear anything if you keep flappin’ your damn jaw.”

Across the street, neon lights flickered on the facade of a rundown bar, casting fractured shadows over a row of grime-slicked windows above. The air smelled of stale beer and gasoline, tinged with a hint of rot. Logan took a deep breath, focusing, scanning for any sign of their target—the journalist who’d gotten too curious about things he had no business knowing.

Wade just rolled his eyes, unfazed by Logan’s irritation. “I was just trying to tell you…that’s our guy,” he said, nodding towards a short, nervous-looking man slipping into the front door of the apartment building above the bar. The man’s hands were shoved deep in his coat pockets, head down, moving quickly, like he wanted to be invisible.

Logan’s eyes narrowed. Something about the guy didn’t feel right. But they didn’t have much else to go on, and he didn’t have the patience to argue with Wade right now.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. He gestured for Wade to follow, and they crossed the street, dodging a couple of potholes filled with oily rainwater. The entryway smelled even worse up close like someone had left a pile of garbage to rot right inside the door.

Inside, the dim hallway was narrow and claustrophobic, with walls covered in peeling, faded wallpaper that might have once been green. Logan’s steps were silent, practiced—Wade’s, not so much. His boots thudded against the cracked linoleum as he craned his neck, looking around like a tourist on his first big-city adventure.

They found the apartment number and pushed their way in, catching the man off guard as he fumbled to pull a sandwich out of a paper bag. He dropped it with a startled yelp, hands flying up in surrender, eyes wide and terrified.

His voice came out in a high, trembling squeak. “L-look, I don’t want any trouble! I can give you money—I swear, I don’t have much, but—”

Wade cocked his head, raising a skeptical brow. “Money? Oh, sweetheart, we’re not here for money.” He let the word drip like honey, and the man flinched. Wade leaned in, studying the man like he was an insect pinned to a board. “You don’t know anything about Team X?”

The man’s face went pale, a sheen of sweat breaking out on his forehead. He shook his head frantically, words spilling out in a stammered mess. “N-no, I swear—I’m just an accountant, alright? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Team…what? I’ve never even heard of it.”

Logan stood back, watching the guy’s every twitch, every dart of his eyes. Fear had a way of squeezing the truth out of people, and this guy looked like he was about to come apart at the seams. Logan’s jaw tightened, his nostrils flaring slightly. He caught Wade’s eye and gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. The poor bastard was clean—just some pencil pusher in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Wade’s grin only widened a slow, wicked curve that made Logan’s stomach sink. He recognized that look: Wade had just had one of his bright ideas.

Wade clapped the accountant on the shoulder, making the man jump. “Well, congrats, pal. You’ve just saved yourself from a world of hurt. But I gotta ask—you like it here?” He gestured around the dingy apartment, where the wallpaper was peeling into long, damp strips and the faint odor of mildew hung in the air. “Nice digs. Bet the landlord’s a gem.”

The accountant blinked, looking from Wade to Logan in bewilderment as if he was just realizing they weren’t here to kill him. “Uh…I guess? I mean, it’s not the worst place I’ve lived.” 

“Perfect.” Wade snapped his fingers, eyes lighting up like a kid who’d just been handed a new toy.

Logan shot Wade a warning look. “Wade. Don’t even start.”

Wade ignored him, snapping his fingers again as if he’d just solved world hunger. “Think about it, Logan. We get a lease here. Set up a cozy little base. I’ll bring a lava lamp, we’ll order takeout, and we can scope out every last tenant till we find this guy. Like fishing, but in an apartment building.”

Logan scowled, crossing his arms. “You’re saying we go through the hassle of a rental application. Background checks. And wait.”

“Come on, think of it as blending in! Imagine us as friendly neighborhood roommates, huh?” Wade slapped him on the shoulder, a little too enthusiastically. “We can get to know the neighbors. Borrow a cup of sugar. You’ll look adorable in an apron.”

Logan let out a low growl, but he could see Wade wouldn’t let it go. They were running out of options, and if this journalist were smart, he’d be laying low. A bit of patience might be the only way to catch him off guard.

“Fine,” he muttered, the word tasting bitter. “But if you so much as mention lava lamps again, I’m throwing you out the window.”

Wade’s grin was all teeth. “Deal. Now let’s go talk to the landlord. You want to do the talking, or should I?” He turned back to the accountant, clapping him on the shoulder again. “Thanks for the inspiration, buddy. Now, if you don’t mind, we’ll just let ourselves out.”

The accountant sank onto his couch, looking dazed, still clutching his sandwich like it was a life preserver. Logan followed Wade to the door, shaking his head. Somehow, he knew this stakeout was going to be the longest assignment of his life.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

“Well, Stryker isn’t happy,” Wade was saying, his voice an incessant buzz in the background. “But when is that dude ever happy? I feel bad for his wife—assuming she exists. Maybe he just clones himself a girlfriend every year. Could you imagine? ‘Sorry, honey, I’ll be home late tonight, gotta send a couple of mutants to—’”

Logan ignored Wade’s rambling as he surveyed their new “home.” Calling it a dump would’ve been generous. The wallpaper was peeling, a thick layer of grime coated the windows, and the faint smell of mildew seeped out from behind the walls. They were at least lucky enough to have separate rooms, but even with a door to shut Wade out, Logan doubted he’d get much peace.

“Did he give you any more information?” Logan finally cut in, hoping Wade might actually have something useful.

Wade blinked, as if surprised that Logan was listening. “About the journalist?”

Logan clenched his teeth. “No—of course about the fucking journalist. Like what the guy might look like, or any other detail that could help us find him?”

Wade shrugged, completely unfazed by Logan’s irritation. “Nope. Stryker was being vague again. Just the usual cryptic bullshit. I swear, the dude is losing it. First, he sends us out here to find some mystery man—”

Logan rolled his eyes, tuning Wade out. They’d been here for a week now, trawling through this run-down building and questioning almost every unlucky soul who happened to live here, and they were no closer to finding their target than when they’d started. Stryker hadn’t given them much to go on, which only made Logan suspect that there was more to this mission than he was letting on.

Finally, Logan couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed his jacket off the back of a chair and headed for the door. “I’ll be back,” he muttered over his shoulder, already halfway out.

Wade called after him. “Where are you going? Got a hot date?”

Logan didn’t dignify that with an answer. He took the stairs down two at a time, feeling a grim sense of relief as he stepped outside and let the cool night air hit him. The bar below their building wasn’t much better than the apartment—it was dim, grimy, and smelled faintly of stale beer and spilled whiskey. But at least it was quiet.

He pushed open the door and made his way inside, hoping he might get a few moments to himself, maybe even a drink strong enough to dull the ever-present headache that came with dealing with Wade.

The place was nearly empty, just a few regulars hunched over the bar and a lone woman sitting in a booth near the back. Logan’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than he meant to. She looked…out of place. Pretty, in a way that seemed wasted on a hole like this. 

She was sitting alone in a corner booth, a book propped open in front of her. Her hair fell over her face as she read, strands catching in the dim light, and she seemed oblivious to the world around her. There was a quiet stillness about her, a kind of focused calm that didn’t quite fit in a bar like this. Logan found himself wondering what a woman like her was doing here, in a place that looked like it had seen one too many bar fights and smelled like it.

For a moment, he debated going over, then caught himself. Not here to make friends, he reminded himself. Still, his gaze kept drifting back to her, curiosity nagging at him. She didn’t look like the regulars in this place—she was younger, softer, with a certain self-contained reserve that drew him in despite himself.

Maybe it was the whiskey, or maybe it was the exhaustion of the past week catching up to him, but before he knew it, he’d grabbed his glass and walked over to her booth.

She looked up, eyes widening slightly as he approached. Logan stopped just short of her table, suddenly aware of how rough he must look after days on the road, stubble shadowing his jaw, his clothes rumpled and worn. He cleared his throat.

“Mind if I sit?” His voice was softer than he intended, and he cursed himself for feeling the slightest bit nervous.

She hesitated, then gave a small nod, closing her book. Up close, he could see the way her eyes flicked over him, assessing but cautious. She didn’t say anything—just looked at him, as if waiting for him to explain why he’d interrupted her quiet.

“You live upstairs?” he asked, nodding toward the ceiling. He thought he might’ve seen her in the hallway when he and Wade moved in, but he hadn’t paid much attention at the time.

“Down the hall,” she said softly, her voice barely carrying over the dull hum of the jukebox. “I saw you moving in yesterday. You and…your friend.”

Logan almost chuckled at that. Wade was a lot of things, but “friend” was stretching it. “Yeah, sorry about him. He’s…a handful.”

A hint of a smile tugged at her lips, a glimmer of amusement that made him feel just a little less like a stranger in a strange place. “I noticed.”

He found himself studying her face—the slight curve of her smile, the way her fingers toyed with the edge of her book as if part of her mind was still half in whatever story she’d been reading. Something about her felt…steady. Centered. It was a quality he’d rarely seen in anyone.

“Logan,” he said, finally offering his name, though he didn’t expect her to care.

She nodded, meeting his gaze for a fraction of a second longer than he’d expected. “Nice to meet you, Logan.”

Silence settled between them, not quite uncomfortable, but heavy with unspoken questions. He could sense she wasn’t the type to pry, but there was a curiosity in her eyes like she was trying to figure him out, just as he was with her.

After a beat, she lifted her book slightly, an invitation for him to leave her in peace. But instead of moving, Logan found himself asking, “What’re you reading?”

She blinked, a bit surprised, then held up the cover for him to see—a worn paperback mystery novel. The kind where the hero always catches the killer but loses something in the process. 

He smirked. “Not exactly light reading for a place like this.”

She shrugged, a hint of a smile returning. “I like the quiet here…and usually nobody bothers me.”

“Well, guess I’m breaking that rule,” he muttered, more to himself than to her.

She didn’t seem bothered. She just looked at him with those steady, curious eyes, and for a moment, he forgot about the mission, about the dirty apartment upstairs, about Wade’s grating voice. Here, in this booth, in this shitty bar, with a quiet woman and a book, he felt…still.

The moment shattered when he heard Wade’s voice behind him, loud and smug. “Already making friends, huh? Didn't know you had it in you, Logan.”

Logan tensed, jaw tightening as he glanced over his shoulder. Wade was leaning against the bar with that insufferable smirk, arms crossed, clearly enjoying himself. Logan shot him a look that could have peeled paint.

“Mind your own business, Wade,” he growled, then turned back to her, keeping his voice softer. “Thanks for letting me sit.”

She nodded, her expression as calm and unreadable as before, though there was a flicker of something in her eyes—amusement, maybe, or curiosity. It was hard to tell. She watched him as he stood, and he found himself hesitating, not quite ready to break whatever strange, quiet connection had settled between them.

Wade wasn’t about to let it linger. “Come on, Romeo,” he called, grinning as he gestured for Logan to follow. “We’ve got stuff to do, remember? Or did you forget in all the charming small talk?”

Logan clenched his teeth, resisting the urge to punch the smirk off Wade’s face. Instead, he gave her one last look—a silent apology or a promise to be less of a stranger next time. But her gaze remained steady, unreadable, as he turned to go.

As he walked past Wade, he grabbed him by the shoulder, steering him roughly toward the door. “Let’s go,” he muttered.

Wade snickered, clearly enjoying the opportunity to needle him. “Touchy, touchy. Guess you do have a heart under all that grumpiness.”

Logan ignored him, shoving Wade ahead and out the door, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was leaving something unfinished. Her image stayed in his mind—the way she’d watched him with those curious eyes, her quiet presence a balm in a week filled with noise and chaos. He didn’t know what it was about her that tugged at him, but he knew it wasn’t something he could explain, even to himself.

Once they were back on the street, Wade was still talking, filling the night air with his usual nonsensical commentary. Logan barely heard him. His mind was elsewhere, replaying that brief encounter in the dimly lit booth. He’d come down to the bar for a moment of peace, maybe a clue, maybe just a strong drink. He hadn’t expected to find…whatever that was.

But there was no time to dwell on it. They had a job to do, and he’d be damned if he let Wade screw it up.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

Logan was screwed. Ever since that brief encounter in the bar, she’d been wedged in his mind like a splinter he couldn’t dig out. He’d catch himself lying on the worn-out couch in the apartment, tuning out Wade’s endless chatter and focusing instead on the faint sounds of her footsteps from down the hall.

She lived across the hall, exactly three doors down. He knew that much, even though he hadn’t seen her again since that night. She didn’t come or go often, and when she did, it was only for short trips—a few minutes out, then back to the quiet solitude of her apartment. 

Logan found himself straining his heightened senses to catch any trace of her: the click of her door, the soft pad of her feet against the hallway carpet, even the faint murmur of her voice when she spoke on the phone. It was insane. He didn’t know the first thing about her, but somehow she’d settled under his skin.

Fuck, he thought, running a hand over his face. I’m a damn stalker.

He tried to shake it off, forcing himself to focus on the mission, but the building felt too cramped, the walls too thin, and her presence was always just out of reach. Wade, of course, noticed Logan’s distraction and was more than happy to exploit it.

“So, when are you gonna introduce me to your girlfriend?” Wade quipped one morning, sprawled across the armchair with his feet propped up on the coffee table. “Or are you just gonna keep sulking around, hoping she magically falls into your lap?”

Logan shot him a glare. “She’s not my girlfriend, Wade.”

“Oh, sure,” Wade drawled, smirking. “That’s why you’ve been lying here for the last three hours, sniffing the air like a bloodhound every time she walks past. I swear, you’re worse than a teenager.”

Logan clenched his fists, jaw tight. He’d deny it if he could, but Wade had a point, and it grated on him. He needed an excuse—a real reason to cross paths with her again, something that wouldn’t make him look like a complete creep.

Wade, apparently sensing an opportunity to meddle, sat up with a grin. “Tell you what, old man. How about you make yourself useful and take our laundry down to the laundromat? You look like you could use a walk, maybe clear your head a bit.” He tossed a balled-up shirt at Logan’s face.

Logan caught it, growling. “Since when do you do laundry?”

“Since never. But I’m feeling generous,” Wade said, smirking as he dropped a bundle of clothes into a bag and shoved it at Logan. “Besides, who knows? Maybe you’ll run into someone interesting while you’re there. Just a thought.”

Logan snatched the bag, too annoyed to argue, and stalked out of the apartment. The morning was cool, the sky overcast, and the streets were quiet as he made his way down to the laundromat which was across the street from the apartment.

He told himself he was only doing it to get Wade off his back—but he couldn’t deny the faint flicker of anticipation at the thought of seeing her again.

The laundromat was nearly empty when he pushed open the door, the dull hum of washing machines filling the air. And there she was, sitting on a cracked plastic chair near the back, a book open on her lap, her brow furrowed in concentration. She didn’t notice him at first, too absorbed in her reading, a strand of hair falling over her face as she turned a page.

Logan froze, his grip tightening around the bag of clothes. Get it together, he told himself, forcing his feet to move as he made his way to an empty machine a few steps away from her. He tossed the clothes in, doing his best to look casual, though he could feel his heart thumping harder than it should.

After a moment, he glanced her way, watching the way her eyes skimmed the words on the page, her lips moving slightly as if she were tasting each sentence. She looked…content. Lost in her own world, soft and quiet in a way that felt like the exact opposite of everything in his life right now.

He cleared his throat, searching for something to say, anything that wouldn’t make him sound like a complete idiot. “Good book?” he managed, his voice gruff, and immediately regretted it. Smooth, Logan. Real smooth.

She looked up, surprised, her gaze locking onto his. For a second, he thought she might brush him off, but then she gave a small, shy smile.

“Yeah, it’s… a mystery novel,” she said, holding up the cover. Her voice was soft, and he caught a faint trace of lavender like she’d been folding fresh laundry just before he came in. “I like to read while I’m waiting. It makes the time go faster.”

Logan nodded, his usual stoic expression softening just a little. “Seems like a good way to pass the time. This place could use the distraction.” He glanced around at the flickering fluorescent lights, the chipped tiles, the machines rattling like they were on their last legs. “Not exactly a scenic spot.”

She laughed, a quiet sound, but it lit up her face in a way that caught him off guard. “No, it’s not. But it’s peaceful, in its own way.”

They fell into a silence as she went back to her book, and Logan found himself watching her out of the corner of his eye as he sorted through the clothes, feeding them into the machine one by one. There was a calmness about her, a quiet strength, and he couldn’t help but wonder what her story was—why someone like her had chosen to live in a place like this, so close to the kind of trouble people usually ran from.

After a few minutes of silence, Logan cleared his throat, searching for something to say. “You… uh, you live alone?”

She looked up, her eyes narrowing just a fraction, a hint of suspicion flickering there. He could almost see her calculating whether or not to answer. “Do you really think I’d tell you that?” she asked, her tone mild but pointed.

Logan’s heart skipped. Shit. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling like an idiot. “I didn’t—I’m not some creepy guy, I swear,” he said quickly, stumbling over his words in a way he wasn’t used to. “Just… making conversation.”

She arched an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “And you expect me to take your word for it?”

He felt heat rise to his face and shifted uncomfortably, aware of how ridiculous he must sound. This wasn’t him—Logan didn’t do small talk, especially not with someone he barely knew. But something about her had him feeling giddy, bumbling his way through a conversation he wasn’t quite prepared for.

He cleared his throat, forcing himself to hold her gaze. “Look, I’m sorry. You have a point. It’s just… this neighborhood doesn’t exactly feel safe. I guess that’s why I asked.”

She sighed softly, closing her book and running her fingers along its worn spine. “Even more of a reason not to answer your questions, don’t you think?” Her tone was cool and cautious, but there was no malice there—just a quiet wariness that made him wonder what she’d been through to put up those walls.

Logan nodded, feeling a twinge of respect for her caution, even if it stung a little to be on the receiving end of it. She’s smart, he thought. Smart enough not to trust a stranger with more muscles than manners, asking personal questions in a laundromat.

An awkward silence settled between them, filled with the rhythmic hum of the machines. He glanced down at his laundry, watching the clothes tumble through the soapy water, trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t sound stupid or intrusive. Finally, he let out a long breath.

“Look, I know I’m not exactly smooth,” he muttered, barely loud enough for her to hear. “I just… don’t see many people like you around here.”

She tilted her head, curiosity softening her guarded expression. “People like me?”

“Yeah. People who—” He struggled to find the right words. “Who seem like they don’t belong in a place like this.” He gave her a slight, self-conscious shrug. “You look… well, like you’ve got better places to be than a crappy laundromat in a bad part of town. That’s all.”

She studied him for a moment, the corner of her mouth lifting in what almost looked like amusement. “And you think you belong here?”

He let out a dry laugh, surprised by the question. “Probably more than most. It’s not exactly my first time in a place like this.”

“Figures,” she murmured, her gaze sweeping over him, taking in the worn leather jacket, the stubble, the roughness that clung to him like a second skin. “You look… I don’t know. Like you’re used to keeping people at a distance.”

Logan blinked, caught off guard by the accuracy of her observation. He shifted under her gaze, feeling exposed in a way he wasn’t used to. “Yeah, well,” he said, gruffly, “sometimes distance is a good thing. Keeps people safe.”

She looked at him for a long moment, her expression softening just a little. “Maybe. But it also keeps people alone.”

Her words hit him harder than he’d expected, settling into some quiet place inside him he’d thought was long gone. He didn’t know how to respond, so he just nodded, feeling the weight of her gaze on him like a challenge.

After a beat, she gathered her laundry, folding it with careful practiced movements, her hands steady and precise. He watched her, mesmerized by the quiet grace in each gesture, the way she seemed to carry her world with her, self-contained and resilient.

As she turned to leave, she glanced back at him, something unreadable in her eyes. “Take care, Logan,” she said, her voice softer now. It wasn’t a question—it was a goodbye, or maybe a warning.

He swallowed, surprised that she’d remembered his name. “Yeah… you too.”

She lingered for a second, then gave him a small nod and walked out, leaving the faint scent of lavender and the echo of her words hanging in the air.

Logan watched her go, feeling the ache of something unfinished settle in his chest. He’d wanted to ask her more, to find out what kept her here, what kept her so guarded. But he knew better than to push.

As he turned back to the hum of the washing machines, he realized he’d be counting down the days until he saw her again.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

“Stryker’s pissed,” Wade muttered, slumping against the kitchen counter in their dingy apartment. The usual smirk was missing from his face, replaced by a look of weary frustration. “Doesn’t understand how, after two weeks, we haven’t found the guy.”

Logan leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, jaw tight. The truth was, he’d practically given up on the mission. They’d followed every lead, shaken down every contact, and come up with nothing. At this point, the search felt pointless. Hell, he could barely keep his head in the game—his mind kept drifting back to her. He hadn’t seen her in days, not since that run-in at the laundromat, and the silence from across the hall gnawed at him in a way he couldn’t explain.

“Tell him this shit takes time. We’ve done everything we can,” he said, the words coming out hollow. He didn’t have the energy to pretend anymore, not even for Wade.

Wade sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I already did. But, y’know, Stryker’s not exactly big on patience. Guy thinks we’re machines or something.” He shot Logan a sidelong glance, noticing the faraway look in his eyes. “You all right, man?”

Logan grunted, brushing him off. “I need a drink,” he muttered, grabbing his worn leather jacket from the back of the sofa and heading for the door. He didn’t look back, didn’t wait for Wade’s response. The apartment felt too cramped, too stale, and he needed air—needed a chance, maybe, to see her.

He made his way down the narrow stairwell, taking two steps at a time, the dim light casting shadows over the worn wallpaper. The bar was quieter than usual, only a handful of regulars hunched over their drinks, lost in their thoughts. Logan scanned the room, his heart pounding harder than he cared to admit. He’d been hoping, half-expecting, to see her. But she kept to herself so much that even catching a glimpse felt like chasing smoke.

Then he saw her, and his breath caught. There she was, standing behind the bar, her sleeves rolled up, pouring a whiskey into a lowball glass with practiced precision. The faint glow of the bar lights softened her face, giving her an almost ethereal look in the dimness. She didn’t notice him at first, focused on her work, and he took a second just to watch her, feeling that strange pull tighten in his chest.

He slid onto a stool at the bar, waiting until she looked up and caught sight of him. Her eyes flickered with recognition, a brief, surprised spark that quickly settled into something more guarded.

“Didn’t know you worked here,” he said, his voice low and gruff.

She gave a small, almost shy smile, setting the glass she’d just poured in front of an older man at the end of the bar. “Just part-time,” she replied. “Pays the bills.”

Logan nodded, glancing at the bottles lined up behind her. “Don’t suppose you’d join me for a drink?”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, though there was something distant in her eyes. “I don’t drink,” she said, wiping down the counter with a cloth. “But I can pour you something strong if that’s what you need.”

He shrugged, trying to act casual. “Maybe I just wanted company.”

She paused, her hand stilling for a moment as she looked at him. “Rough day?”

Logan let out a humorless chuckle. “You could say that.” He hesitated, then added, “Work’s… complicated.”

She tilted her head, watching him with that quiet, steady gaze that always seemed to see right through him. “You don’t strike me as the kind of guy who likes talking about his job.”

“Not much to talk about,” he muttered, though he could feel the weight of it pressing on him, heavier than he wanted to admit. He took a deep breath, fingers tapping restlessly on the bar. “Let’s just say I’ve been chasing something that doesn’t want to be found.”

She nodded, her expression hardening just a bit. “Sometimes it’s better to let things go. Not everything needs to be caught.” Her words were gentle, but they struck something deep inside him, making him feel exposed in a way he wasn’t used to.

He ran a hand over his face, weary. “Yeah, maybe. Just… hard to walk away when you’ve got orders breathing down your neck.”

She arched an eyebrow, a hint of amusement breaking through her usual reserve. “So you’re the type who follows orders, huh?”

Logan smirked, shaking his head. “Not exactly. But sometimes you don’t get a choice.” He picked up his glass, taking a slow sip of the whiskey she’d poured, savoring the burn as it went down. “What about you? Seems like you don’t mind keeping to yourself.”

She shrugged, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m used to it. Less complicated that way.”

There was a pause, and he could sense something unspoken there, a hint of a story she wasn’t quite ready to tell. He felt an unexpected urge to ask, to push just a little, but he held back, afraid of scaring her off.

Instead, he said, “This place doesn’t exactly feel like… I don’t know. The kind of spot for someone who likes peace and quiet.”

She laughed softly, the sound warm and unexpected. “Probably not. But I don’t mind it here. It’s… predictable.” She looked down, fiddling with the edge of her towel, a small frown creasing her forehead. “I’ve had enough surprises for one lifetime.”

Logan watched her, feeling a pang of something he couldn’t name—sympathy, maybe, or just the strange, unexplainable need to understand her. “Yeah. I get that,” he murmured, surprising himself with how much he meant it. “I’m not much of a fan of surprises either.”

She glanced up, meeting his gaze, her expression softening. “Funny. Somehow, I think you’ve had your fair share.”

“More than I’d like,” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. He wanted to tell her more, to somehow convey the weight he carried without unloading it all on her shoulders. But he was used to keeping that part of himself locked away. So instead, he just took another drink, feeling the burn of the whiskey like a familiar ache.

After a moment, she leaned on the bar, closer than she’d been before, and he caught a faint whiff of lavender—a soft, almost comforting scent that didn’t belong in a place like this. “For what it’s worth,” she said quietly, “you don’t seem like the kind of guy who belongs here.”

He looked up, caught off guard by her words. There was something raw in her gaze, something vulnerable she was letting him see, if only for a second. At that moment, he felt the urge to reach out, to say something real, something that might close the gap between them.

But the words stuck in his throat. All he could manage was a rough, “Yeah. Maybe neither of us do.”

She smiled faintly, a ghost of one, then straightened, the moment passing as quickly as it had come. “I should get back to work,” she said, her voice soft but distant again.

Logan nodded, watching as she moved down the bar to help another customer. The warmth she’d shown him vanished as she fell back into the rhythm of her job, her expression becoming neutral, polite, reserved.

He sat there for a while, nursing his drink, watching her from the corner of his eye. There was a part of him that wanted to wait until her shift ended, to walk her home, to find out more about the life she kept hidden behind that quiet, steady demeanor. But he knew better. They were both loners, both wary, both used to walls that kept the world at a distance.

Still, as he finally rose to leave, he couldn’t help but glance back one last time, catching her eye for a fleeting moment. There was something there—something unspoken, a silent understanding like they were both seeing the loneliness in each other.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

A door slammed somewhere down the hall, jolting Logan awake. He shot up, his senses immediately on high alert, ears ringing from the sudden noise. In this dump of an apartment building, chaos was as predictable as the peeling paint on the walls, but something about this was different. He felt it low in his gut—a tug of instinct that told him her door was the one that had slammed.

He didn’t even think twice. Rolling out of bed, he barely bothered to throw on a shirt, his sweatpants clinging to his legs as he stepped into the dimly lit hallway. The air was thick and stale, the smell of old carpet mingling with the faint, sour odor of cigarette smoke. Shadows pooled in the corners, and the weak fluorescent light flickered above, casting an eerie, washed-out glow over everything.

Logan froze when he spotted a lanky, rough-looking guy standing outside her door, his posture tense, fists clenched and white as he pounded on the wood.

“C’mon, let me in!” the guy snarled, his voice slurred and aggressive. “We’re not done talking!”

Logan’s jaw tightened, a surge of anger rising in his chest. He watched for a second, sizing the guy up—a wiry frame, greasy hair, clothes rumpled like he hadn’t changed in days. The man looked like trouble, the kind of guy who didn’t know when to take no for an answer. And if he was here banging on her door at this hour, that made him Logan’s problem.

Logan’s voice came out low and cold as he approached. “You wanna keep it down?”

The guy spun around, his eyes narrowing as he took in Logan’s broad shoulders, the scowl etched deep on his face. “Who the hell are you?” he sneered, but there was a flicker of hesitation, a hint of unease that Logan caught right away.

Logan took another step forward, crossing his arms over his bare chest. “I’m the guy who lives down the hall,” he said, his tone deadly calm. “And you’re about two seconds away from regretting that door you’re banging on.”

The guy’s sneer wavered, but he tried to puff himself up, stepping forward like he was going to make something of it. “This doesn’t concern you, man. I’m just trying to talk to my girl.”

“Doesn’t look like she wants to talk,” Logan replied, glancing at the door. His fists clenched instinctively. The thought of this guy forcing his way in, disturbing her, made his blood boil. “So maybe you should take the hint and get lost.”

The guy scoffed, but there was a nervous edge creeping into his voice now. “Look, we’re just… we’re going through some stuff. It’s none of your business.”

Logan took one more step, close enough that he could see the guy’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “Last warning. Leave. Or I make you leave.”

Before the guy could respond, the door opened a crack, and she appeared, her face pale and tense, eyes darting between Logan and this guy. “Logan, don’t. Please,” she said, her voice softer than usual but carrying a weight that made him pause. “It’s… it’s fine. I can handle it.”

Logan glanced at her, his irritation tempered by a flash of confusion. Handle it? The guy was practically foaming at the mouth, and she was telling him to back off.

The guy shot her a pleading look. “Come on, babe, just give me five minutes. We can talk this out.”

Her shoulders stiffened, and Logan could see the resolve in her eyes as she shook her head. “I already told you, we’re done. There’s nothing left to talk about. Just go.”

The guy didn’t budge, his face twisting with frustration. “You’re being unreasonable. This is all because of that stupid job, isn’t it? You think you’re too good for me now, huh?”

Logan felt his patience snap. He took a step forward, his voice a low growl. “She said go. Don’t make me tell you again.”

The guy’s eyes flicked back to Logan, the last traces of defiance draining out of him. For a second, he seemed to weigh his options, then cursed under his breath and turned, stalking down the hallway. He cast one last resentful glare over his shoulder before disappearing down the stairs.

As soon as he was out of sight, Logan turned back to her. She was leaning against the doorframe, her face tight with frustration. He opened his mouth to ask if she was all right, but she cut him off with a weary sigh.

“You didn’t need to do that,” she muttered, her eyes fixed somewhere near the floor.

Logan frowned. “Seemed like he wasn’t getting the message,” he replied, keeping his voice gentler than usual. “Didn’t look like he was gonna leave you alone.”

She crossed her arms, hugging herself as if trying to put some barrier between them. “I just… I didn’t want to make things worse. He’s already been hanging around too much as it is, and now—” She trailed off, looking away, clearly uncomfortable.

Logan’s brows furrowed. He’d come out here ready to throw the guy down the stairs if it came to that, but now he was starting to see the other side of it. “Is he…?” Logan paused, not sure how to phrase it. “Your boyfriend?”

She shook her head quickly. “No–I mean he was, sort of. Not anymore.” She hesitated, biting her lip. “He’s just… he doesn’t know when to let go.”

Logan felt a flash of anger on her behalf, a protective instinct flaring up inside him. “If he gives you any more trouble, you let me know. I’ll make sure he stays gone.”

Instead of relief, his words seemed to frustrate her. She let out a soft huff, rubbing her temples. “Logan, I don’t need a knight in shining armor. This is… complicated. He’s just going through something. It doesn’t matter—” Her voice trailed off leaving the silence to hang between them.

Logan clenched his jaw, forcing himself to take a step back. He wasn’t used to being told to stand down, especially when he felt someone needed his help. But he could see this only made her more anxious, that his interference was complicating things for her in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

“Fine,” he said, though it took effort to keep his voice steady. “But if he shows up again, I’m not gonna just sit by and watch him bother you.”

She looked at him, her expression softening for a moment. There was a flicker of gratitude in her eyes, tempered by weariness. “Thanks, Logan. I appreciate it. Really, but it won’t make things easier. He’ll just think—I just don’t want any more problems, okay?” 

He nodded, feeling a pang of something he couldn’t quite name. He’d wanted to protect her, to do something useful, but it seemed all he’d managed was to add to her stress. “Got it,” he said quietly.

She gave him a small, tentative smile, then turned back to her apartment. As she shut the door, he caught one last glimpse of her expression—tired, guarded, but grateful, like she was carrying the weight of more than just a bad ex.

Logan stood there for a long moment, staring at her closed door, hands clenched at his sides. He hadn’t realized how deeply he’d started to care until he’d felt that surge of anger seeing someone else give her trouble. But now he could feel her boundaries, a line she’d drawn that he hadn’t meant to cross.

Turning back to his apartment, he couldn’t shake the frustration coiled tight in his chest, or the quiet ache that came with knowing there were parts of her life he couldn’t protect her from.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

“You and that girl—have you made any progress?” Wade asked, a smirk playing on his lips as he took a lazy sip of his beer. They were sitting in their usual corner of the bar, ostensibly keeping an eye out for any sign of their elusive target. But Wade’s attention, as usual, had drifted to more entertaining topics.

Logan huffed, eyes scanning the room. “What did I tell you, Wade? I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Sensitive subject, big guy?” Wade’s grin only widened, clearly enjoying himself. “C’mon, I’m just saying—you’ve been pining after her like a lovesick puppy for weeks now. You’re not exactly subtle.”

Logan shot him a glare that could’ve cut steel, but Wade just shrugged, unbothered. “Look, I’ve got a way with the ladies. Maybe I can help you out.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Logan growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Wade wasn’t listening. His eyes lit up as the door opened, and she walked in, pulling on her apron as she headed behind the bar. Logan tried not to stare, but he felt that familiar pull in his chest, his gaze drawn to her almost against his will. She looked tired, a little more reserved than usual, like something heavy was weighing on her mind. He couldn’t help but wonder if her ex had been causing her trouble again. He clenched his fists, resisting the urge to ask, to do something to make it better.

That’s when Wade got up.

Logan’s stomach tightened as Wade strolled across the bar, his usual cocky swagger on full display. He watched, jaw clenched, as Wade leaned on the bar, flashing her one of his trademark grins. She looked up, startled at first, and Logan saw her eyes flick briefly toward him before settling back on Wade. Her expression softened into a polite, practiced smile, the kind she gave every customer. But Wade wasn’t satisfied with politeness.

He couldn’t hear exactly what Wade was saying due to his jealousy overtaking his senses, but he saw her give a small, hesitant laugh, the kind that looked like she was just being polite. That didn’t matter—Wade was relentless, leaning in closer, gesturing animatedly, probably telling some ridiculous story. After a few moments, Logan saw her laugh again, this time a little more genuine, her shoulders relaxing just a fraction.

Logan’s fingers tightened around his glass, the jealousy hitting him like a punch to the gut. He tried to ignore it, tried to tell himself it was nothing—just Wade being Wade. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away from them, his jaw clenched so hard it hurt.

Wade, sensing the effect he was having, shot a glance back at Logan, a smug grin flashing across his face before he turned back to her. Logan’s chest tightened. That bastard. He’d walked over there just to rile him up, and damn it, it was working.

Wade said something else, something that made her laugh again—this time a little louder, though Logan could tell it was still half-hearted, a courtesy laugh to appease the charming stranger who’d decided to bother her during her shift. She wasn’t truly engaged, but the sight of her laughing, even out of politeness, stirred something dark and possessive in Logan’s gut.

He forced himself to look away, taking a long drink to steady himself, but the sound of her laugh lingered, scratching at him. Wade was still leaning on the bar, still talking to her, probably laying it on thick just to make Logan squirm. Logan couldn’t help the flash of irritation that surged through him. It wasn’t like he’d made a claim on her or anything—but seeing Wade so close, making her laugh, it grated on him in a way he hadn’t expected.

After a few agonizing minutes, Wade finally sauntered back over, plopping down across from Logan with a satisfied smirk. Logan’s jaw was still clenched, his gaze flickering over to where she was now wiping down the bar, her expression already back to that familiar, guarded neutrality.

Wade raised an eyebrow, leaning in with a grin. “You see that? Had her laughing in no time. It’s called charm, my friend. You should try it sometime.”

Logan glared at him, his voice low and dangerous. “Cut the crap, Wade.”

“Oh, come on,” Wade chuckled, leaning back with a look of pure amusement. “Don’t be so uptight. If you’re not gonna make a move, someone else will.”

Logan’s fists tightened, and he forced himself to take a slow, steadying breath. “This isn’t a game, Wade.”

Wade shrugged, unbothered. “Never said it was. Just seems like you’re too busy brooding over her from a distance to actually, y’know, do anything.” He leaned in, voice dropping to a mocking whisper. “You afraid she’ll turn you down? Big, tough Logan afraid of a pretty girl?”

Logan’s nostrils flared, a quiet anger simmering in his chest, but he held back. He wasn’t going to give Wade the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, he let his gaze drift back to her, watching as she moved behind the bar, her face calm but distant, like she was deliberately shutting herself off from everything around her.

The truth was, Wade wasn’t entirely wrong. Logan had been keeping his distance, unsure how to approach her, especially with everything going on in her life. He didn’t want to be another complication, another person who made things harder for her. But watching Wade talk to her, seeing that faint, forced smile on her face—it made him realize just how badly he wanted to be the one making her smile, not out of politeness or obligation, but because she actually wanted him there.

Wade leaned in, still smirking. “So? What’s the plan, big guy? You gonna sit here and sulk, or you gonna actually talk to her?”

Logan’s gaze snapped back to him, irritation flaring. “Unlike you, I don’t go around sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Hey, I was just being friendly,” Wade said, raising his hands in mock innocence. “You know, she’s pretty nice once you get her to open up a little. Thought I’d do you a favor, warm her up for you.”

Logan scoffed, but he couldn’t hide the bitterness in his tone. “She’s not some conquest, Wade.”

Wade rolled his eyes. “Relax, old man. I’m not trying to steal her. Just trying to get you to wake up and do something about it before she slips away.” He glanced back toward the bar, where she was now stacking glasses, oblivious to their conversation. “You think she’s gonna wait around forever? Women like that don’t stay single long.”

Logan’s jaw clenched, his heart pounding with a mixture of frustration and jealousy he couldn’t shake. He took another sip of his drink, forcing himself to keep his gaze on anything else instead of glancing her way again. The truth was, Wade’s words struck too close to home. He’d been holding back, convincing himself that he had time, that he didn’t need to rush things. But seeing her with someone else—even Wade—made him realize how thin that excuse really was.

After a moment, Logan set his glass down, his eyes cold and hard. “You don’t know the first thing about her, Wade.”

Wade shrugged, unfazed. “Maybe not. But neither do you, at this rate.” He flashed another grin, leaning back in his seat. “Look, you’re not gonna scare me off with your brooding, so maybe just… I don’t know, think about it. You might find that going over there and actually talking to her works better than glaring at me.”

Logan didn’t respond, but his gaze drifted back to her, watching as she moved with quiet efficiency, her expression carefully blank. He could still hear her forced laugh echoing in his head, the way she’d seemed to tolerate Wade’s attention rather than welcome it.

With a resigned sigh, he pushed himself to his feet. If Wade wasn’t going to back off, maybe it was time to take matters into his own hands.

He didn’t know what he was going to say, but he knew one thing for sure: he couldn’t sit around and let someone else fill the space he’d been too afraid to claim.

Logan slid onto the bar stool in front of her, his presence a solid weight she couldn’t ignore, even though she kept her eyes down, focused on wiping an already-clean spot on the counter. She looked up briefly, her gaze flicking to him before darting away, a faint, polite smile barely gracing her lips.

“Hey,” he said, his voice gruff but softer than usual.

“Hi.” She answered quietly, her eyes settling somewhere over his shoulder, anywhere but on him. Her hands kept busy, her movements almost mechanical as she straightened the bottles on the bar and rearranged the napkins as if his presence alone made her feel she had to be doing something.

Logan felt a pang of something uncomfortably close to regret. He wasn’t used to this—a woman shrinking away from him, putting up walls before he’d even had a chance to say his piece. The memory of her ex banging on her door flashed through his mind, and he shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Look, about the other night,” he began, voice rougher than he intended. “I… I didn’t mean to, y’know, step in like that. I just thought—well, it seemed like you needed help.”

She finally looked at him, her gaze sharp and guarded, like she was measuring each word before letting it reach her. “It’s fine,” she said flatly, her tone clipped. “I can handle my own problems.”

Logan swallowed, feeling the rejection like a slap. He knew she was brushing him off, trying to make him back down, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to let it go. “Didn’t mean to imply you couldn’t,” he muttered, his voice softer. “Just… didn’t want to see you put in a bad spot.”

She let out a small, humorless laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she busied herself with the glasses on the bar. “Bad spots are part of the package around here, Logan. You don’t need to make it your business.”

He leaned forward slightly, brow furrowing. “Maybe I just don’t like seeing you get hurt.” The words came out more intense than he’d intended, and he saw her stiffen, her hands pausing mid-reach. She looked up, really looked at him, a flash of something unreadable in her eyes—surprise, maybe, or irritation. It was hard to tell.

She took a breath, visibly collecting herself. “Logan… I appreciate the concern, really. But I’m fine.” Her voice was steady but distant like she was pulling herself back behind a wall he couldn’t get through. “This kind of thing… it’s not new to me.”

That didn’t sit right with him, the idea of her having to handle men like her ex, people who didn’t take no for an answer. He wanted to ask her more, to understand what kind of trouble she’d been through, but he knew that line was dangerous. Respect her space, he reminded himself, even as the urge to push gnawed at him.

But he couldn’t help himself. “You don’t… you don’t have anyone else to look out for you?”

Her gaze flicked to him, sharper now, her eyes narrowing. “What do you mean by that?”

“Just…” He faltered, feeling himself starting to drown in the weight of his awkwardness. “You don’t seem to have anyone around. Family, friends. Someone who could back you up if things got rough.”

She stared at him for a long, tense moment, her expression unreadable. Then she let out a slow, controlled exhale, setting down the glass she’d been wiping with careful deliberation. “Logan, you don’t know me. And frankly, I don’t know you. You and your friend…” She paused, glancing over at Wade, who was lounging at the other end of the bar, eyeing them with an amused grin. “You both keep… hovering. And it’s starting to feel a little strange.”

Logan’s jaw tightened and a wave of frustration and embarrassment crashed over him. “It’s not like that,” he muttered, a bit too defensively. “We’re just… we’re just looking out for you. This place isn’t exactly safe.”

She raised an eyebrow, folding her arms across her chest. “And you think I don’t know that? You think I don’t understand the risks of living here?”

Logan opened his mouth to respond, then closed it, his words failing him. He realized he’d overstepped, pushed too far without thinking. She didn’t need a protector, at least not one who bulldozed into her life without an invitation. And yet, here he was, sitting at her bar, trying to fix things he barely understood.

“I’m just saying…” He trailed off, his voice softer, almost hesitant. “I see you here, night after night, putting up with jerks who don’t know when to quit. You’re not like them. You deserve better.”

Her expression softened, but only slightly, and she glanced away, a distant look in her eyes. “Better,” she murmured, almost to herself. “Right.” She looked back at him, meeting his gaze with something close to resignation. “I don’t need saving, Logan. I’ve been doing just fine without it.”

He swallowed, hating how small those words made him feel. He’d faced down enemies, been through battles that left him scarred in ways she couldn’t imagine, but sitting here under her gaze, he felt exposed, clumsy, like he was fumbling in the dark.

She sighed, glancing down, and for a moment, he saw a hint of vulnerability in her expression—a crack in her armor. “Why are you really here?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper. “Why are you and your friend even bothering with me? I’m just… some bartender.”

Logan hesitated, feeling Wade’s eyes on him from across the room, knowing he was probably getting a kick out of watching him squirm. But this was more than just Wade’s meddling. This was him, unable to walk away, pulled back to her time and time again for reasons he couldn’t explain.

“You’re not ‘just’ anything,” he said finally, his voice low, but steady. “You’re… different. Strong. I don’t know.” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself. “I know I’m not good with words, but… I see you here, and I just keep thinking you deserve more than this.”

She looked at him, her guarded expression softening, and for a brief moment, he thought he saw something crack beneath the surface—a glimmer of vulnerability, something raw and unguarded. But then, just as quickly, she pulled back, straightening, her walls going up again.

“Oh, so I’m a charity case now?” she murmured, her voice tight and distant, the hint of anger simmering beneath her words. She crossed her arms, shifting her weight as she looked him over, her gaze cold and appraising. “Look, I told you—I don’t need anyone looking out for me, especially not some guy who doesn’t know when he’s made someone uncomfortable.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, each one sinking in deep. Logan’s mouth opened, but no words came out. He felt his face go hot, a mix of shame and frustration twisting inside him. He wanted to explain himself, to tell her he hadn’t meant it that way—but the look on her face told him that anything he said now would only make things worse.

“I—” he started, then stopped, swallowing hard. She kept her eyes on him, unblinking, her expression hard as steel. He could see it now—the line he’d crossed, the space he’d invaded without thinking. He’d thought he was helping, protecting her, but all he’d done was make her feel trapped.

She took a breath, exhaling slowly as she glanced away, her jaw clenched. “You don’t get it, do you?” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Guys like you think you’re doing me a favor, stepping in, trying to… ‘protect’ me. But all you’re doing is making me feel like I can’t handle my own life. Like I’m weak. And I’m not.”

Logan clenched his fists under the bar, forcing himself to stay quiet, to listen. He’d been on the other side of this before—people assuming things about him, trying to fix things they didn’t understand. Now, for the first time, he realized he was doing the same thing to her. He looked down, shame tightening in his chest.

She shook her head, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. “You barely know me, Logan. You have no idea what I’ve been through. And I’m not interested in becoming some project for you to fix or some one-night stand.”

Her words stung, cutting through the last shreds of his defensiveness. He’d been telling himself he was looking out for her, that she needed someone to stand up for her. But now he could see how it must have looked to her—some guy she barely knew, showing up again and again, prying into her life, acting like he knew better.

He cleared his throat, voice rough. “You’re right,” he said quietly, finally meeting her gaze. “I… I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”

She watched him, her eyes softened just a fraction, though the wariness remained. He could feel the weight of his own mistakes pressing down on him, making him feel clumsy and exposed.

“Look,” she said, her tone gentler but still guarded, “I appreciate whatever it is you’re trying to do. Really. But you don’t get to decide what I need. That’s my choice. And if I want help, I’ll ask for it.”

He nodded slowly, feeling a strange mix of relief and regret. He could sense the walls she’d put up, and he knew now that he was part of the reason they were there.

He stood up, feeling the weight of her words settle over him like a cold ache. “Right. Sorry if we made things weird,” he muttered, his voice gruffer than he intended. “Didn’t mean to… overstep.”

For the first time, she seemed to soften, her gaze losing some of its hardness. She let out a long breath, looking down at the bar as if collecting her thoughts. When she spoke again, her voice was almost kind, but there was an edge to it, a reminder.

“Just… maybe think twice before you go around trying to be someone’s hero,” she said, her lips curving into a faint, sad smile.

Logan felt the weight of her words settle over him, heavier than anything he’d carried in a long time. He nodded, swallowing back the urge to say more. For once, he knew he needed to let her have the last word.

She turned away, her attention shifting to a group of customers at the other end of the bar. She moved with quiet efficiency, her shoulders tense but steady, shutting him out completely.

Logan stood there for a moment, feeling the full sting of her rejection, the ache of realizing he’d overstepped in ways he couldn’t take back. She didn’t look at him again, didn’t acknowledge his presence, and he knew he’d lost whatever fragile connection they’d had.

“Smooth, as always,” Wade drawled, leaning back with an infuriating grin.

Logan ignored him, his jaw clenched tight as he sat down. He’d thought he was protecting her but all he’d done was drive her further away. 

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

The past few days, Logan had kept a low profile, barely leaving the apartment except to grab food or take out the trash. He didn’t want to risk running into her—not after the way she’d shut him down, her words echoing in his mind like a bruise that wouldn’t fade. She’d made it perfectly clear that she didn’t need his help, and he’d gotten the message. Loud and clear.

But tonight, Wade had barged in with new intel from Stryker. Apparently, their elusive journalist was on the move, spotted hanging around one of the local clubs. Logan hadn’t been in the mood to play dress-up and join the nightlife, but he didn’t have much choice. Stryker was breathing down their necks, and if this was their best shot at tracking the guy down, he couldn’t let it slip by.

So he’d reluctantly thrown on a clean shirt and made the walk a few blocks down to the club, Wade at his side, chattering nonstop as they reached the entrance.

“It’s a bit nicer than the bar we live above,” Wade noted, casting a glance around the neon-lit exterior with approval. A line of people waited outside, all glittering dresses and sharp suits, laughter, and perfume filling the warm night air. Wade smirked, nudging Logan with his elbow. “Maybe if you’re lucky, you can find another pretty girl to make up for your last crash-and-burn.”

Logan rolled his eyes, ignoring Wade’s jab. “We’re here to find the journalist. Stay focused,” he muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets as they made their way inside. The club was dimly lit, pulsing with low red and blue lights that throbbed to the beat of the music. Bodies moved on the dance floor, a tangle of arms and laughter and heat, and Logan felt a familiar irritation simmering under his skin. Clubs weren’t his scene. Too loud, too crowded, too many damn people.

He forced himself to concentrate, sniffing the air, trying to pick up any hint of their target’s scent. But the mix of sweat, cologne, and spilled alcohol made it nearly impossible to pick up anything distinctive. He scanned the crowd, his eyes narrowing as he tried to catch sight of anyone who looked remotely like the guy they were hunting.

But then he saw her.

At first, he thought he was imagining it—a trick of the lights, or just his mind playing cruel games. But no. It was her, standing near the edge of the dance floor, laughing at something some woman was saying. She looked… different. Completely different from the guarded, quiet bartender he’d met. Her hair was loose, falling in soft waves over her shoulders, and her lips were painted a glossy, tempting shade that caught the light every time she smiled. She wore a dress that hugged her curves in all the right places, showing off a side of her he’d never seen before, a side he hadn’t even known existed.

Logan’s mouth went dry, and for a moment, he forgot why he was even there. All he could think about was her—the way she moved, the easy smile on her face, the way her laughter seemed to cut through the noise of the club like it was meant for him alone. He’d been trying to avoid her, trying to keep his distance, but seeing her like this, carefree and vibrant… pulled him in, like a magnet he couldn’t resist.

Wade must have noticed his distraction, because he gave Logan a light smack on the shoulder, pulling him out of his trance. “Logan, buddy, don’t tell me you’re still stuck on her,” Wade said, his tone half-amused, half-annoyed. “I swear, I’ve never seen you this pathetic over anyone. Rejection’s hitting you hard, huh?”

Logan shook his head, forcing himself to tear his gaze away, though his eyes kept drifting back to her. “It’s not like that,” he muttered, more to himself than to Wade. “We’re here for the journalist. Just… keep your eyes open.”

Wade wasn’t buying it. He crossed his arms, smirking. “Oh, I’m keeping my eyes open, all right. You, on the other hand…” He whistled, nodding in her direction. “You’re about one second away from abandoning the mission to go talk to her. I mean, come on. If you’re that obsessed, just go over there already.”

Logan clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to punch Wade then and there. But a part of him hated that Wade was right. He hadn’t been able to get her out of his head since their last conversation, and now, seeing her like this, he was barely holding himself back.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he started making his way across the crowded floor, ignoring Wade’s low chuckle behind him. As he approached, she turned slightly, her gaze sweeping over the crowd until it landed on him. Her smile faltered, surprise flickering in her eyes before she quickly masked it, her face shifting into something more guarded.

“Logan,” she said, her tone cautious, almost as if she were bracing herself. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling out of place, unsure what to say. “Yeah. Didn’t expect to see you either,” he replied, his voice gruffer than he intended. “You… uh, you look different.” He instantly regretted it, realizing how awkward it sounded.

She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Different?”

“Good different,” he amended quickly, his cheeks warming. Real smooth, Logan, he thought, mentally kicking himself. 

She glanced away, a faint frown tugging at her lips.“Thanks I guess,” she said, then gestured to her friend, who was watching the exchange with barely concealed interest. “I’m just here with my friend, Monica. She thought it was a good idea for girls’ night and dragged me out.” He could see a flash of uncomfortableness before she masked it.

Logan nodded, his mind racing, trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t make him sound like a fool. But before he could gather his thoughts, her friend nudged her playfully, smirking at Logan.

“So, this is the guy you told me about?” Monica asked, her eyes dancing with mischief.

She shot Monica a warning look, her cheeks flushing. “I… I didn’t tell you that much,” she muttered, casting a quick, embarrassed glance at Logan.

A flicker of hope stirred in his chest. She talked about me? He tried not to let it show, but the thought sent a spark through him, making him stand a little straighter.

Monica gave her a knowing smile, then leaned closer to Logan, lowering her voice. “Just so you know, she’s been playing hard to get for a reason. But maybe she’s finally ready to let someone in.”

Logan looked at her, the guarded woman he’d met behind the bar now looking distinctly uncomfortable, her cheeks flushed a warm pink. She looked away, biting her lip, and he realized she was just as thrown off-balance as he was.

For a moment, they stood in silence, the thrum of the club’s music pulsing around them, the energy of the room fading into the background. All he could see was her—her flushed cheeks, the slight nervousness in her gaze, the softness in her expression that he’d never seen before.

Monica sighed dramatically, looking between them with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Oh, look at that. I need another drink,” she announced, clearly not needing one at all. She winked at her friend. “Plus, I think I see a cute guy over there. You two… have fun.” With one last grin, she slipped away, disappearing into the crowd and leaving them alone.

Logan took a steadying breath, forcing himself to look her in the eyes, to say what he’d been meaning to since their last conversation. “Listen… about the other night,” he began, voice low and careful. “I’m sorry if I overstepped. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

She hesitated, searching his face. He held her gaze, hoping she could see he meant it. For a moment, he thought he saw the walls she kept around herself soften, just a little. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it,” she said softly, her voice barely carrying over the thrum of the music. “It’s just… I’m not used to people getting involved in my life.”

Logan nodded, understanding more than he could put into words. “I’m not exactly used to… letting people in either.” The confession felt strange on his tongue, vulnerable in a way he hadn’t planned, but it was the truth. He could see that she understood, her expression shifting from guarded to something softer, that made his heart beat a little faster.

They stood there, inches apart, the pulse of the club and the chatter of people fading into the background. Logan wanted to reach out, to touch her hand, to bridge that last bit of distance between them, but he held back, waiting for her lead.

After a moment, she gave him a tentative smile. “Did Wade drag you out here?” she asked, the tension easing just a bit as a hint of humor crept into her voice.

Logan chuckled, shaking his head. “What makes you think that?”

She shrugged, glancing away shyly. “You don’t… you’re like me,” she said, fumbling over her words. “I just didn’t think you’d be the kind of guy who’d want to go to a club.”

He smiled, trying to put her at ease. “I go to bars all the time. Almost the same thing, right?”

She let out a small, nervous laugh. “Yeah, I suppose so. I don’t drink, but Monica always drags me out, says it’s ‘good for me.’” She made air quotes, rolling her eyes slightly.

“I know.” Logan’s face went hot. “I mean, I remember you don’t drink. That’s why… well, I guess that’s why I was surprised to see you here.” He cleared his throat, trying to regain his footing. “But you look… different tonight.”

She raised an eyebrow, her expression growing cautious. “You already said that. Do you make it a habit to repeat yourself?”

Logan fumbled for the right words, suddenly feeling like a teenager on his first date. “I mean…you look beautiful tonight,” he said, his voice rougher than he intended. His gaze flicked over her, taking her in again.

She went very still, her eyes searching his face. For a second, he thought he’d finally broken through to her, that maybe she could see how much he meant it. But then her expression shifted, her lips pressing together, her eyes hardening. She looked down, and he could see her shoulders tense, her arms wrapping around herself as if she were closing off.

“Oh,” she said quietly, a forced, brittle smile tugging at her lips. “So… what? I only look beautiful when I’m dressed up? When I’m… like this?”

Logan’s eyes widened, realization hitting him like a slap. “No—no, that’s not what I meant.”

She shook her head, her voice barely a whisper as she looked away. “I knew it was stupid to come out tonight,” she muttered, more to herself than to him. “Guess I’m just someone you feel sorry for? Want to just take pity on?”

“Hey, no—” Logan reached for her arm instinctively, but she pulled back, her face turning away to hide the tears welling in her eyes. The sight made his chest tighten, guilt flooding him as he realized just how badly he’d misstepped.

“I thought maybe…” Her voice cracked, and she shook her head, brushing a hand quickly across her cheek. “Never mind.” She looked back at him, her eyes glossy, her expression one of hurt and frustration. “Forget it, Logan. I don’t need this.”

“Wait,” he said, desperate now, his voice thick with regret. “It’s not pity. I just… I wanted you to know that I—”

She didn’t let him finish. With a tight, broken smile, she turned on her heel, pushing her way through the crowd and disappearing into the pulsing mass of bodies on the dance floor. He stood there, frozen, watching her slip away, her silhouette vanishing into the blur of lights and movement.

Logan felt an ache settle deep in his chest, the weight of her words sinking in. He’d tried so hard to find the right thing to say, to make her see how he felt—but all he’d done was confirm her worst fears, making her feel like he only saw her worth when she was dressed up, made up, transformed into someone she thought he’d want.

He stood there for a moment, lost in the noise and the lights, feeling the regret gnawing at him like a wound that wouldn’t heal.

Behind him, Wade sidled up, taking in Logan’s expression with a low whistle. “Well, that looked like it went well.”

Logan glared at him, too frustrated to respond. Wade shook his head, crossing his arms with a smirk. “Man, you’re really a disaster with women, you know that?”

Logan clenched his fists, ignoring Wade’s taunts as he scanned the crowd, hoping for another glimpse of her, even though he knew she wouldn’t want to see him right now. He’d messed up, probably worse than he’d ever messed up anything before. But he couldn’t just leave it like this. Not when she was the one person he couldn’t get out of his mind.

Without a word to Wade, he pushed through the crowd, determination hardening in his chest. He didn’t know how he was going to fix this, but he knew one thing—he wasn’t going to let her slip away again. Not like this.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

Logan spotted her near the dimly lit hallway by the bathrooms, sitting on the floor with her legs curled up to her chest, her face buried in her arms. The sight stopped him. She looked so small, so vulnerable, and the thought that he’d been the one to put that hurt in her eyes twisted something painful inside him. He knew he should leave her alone—she’d already told him to. But he couldn’t. Not when he felt the ache of her words as if they’d been carved into him.

He took a cautious step closer, clearing his throat. “Hey… I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice barely audible over the muffled thump of music from the club. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She looked up, her eyes red and swollen from crying, and the guilt hit him all over again. Her gaze was sharp, guarded, but there was a flicker of something softer beneath it—a weariness like she was tired of feeling this way.

“Just go away, Logan,” she said, her voice wavering as she hugged her knees tighter. “Haven’t you done enough?”

He wanted to reach out, to touch her shoulder, anything to make this right, but he held back, forcing himself to respect her space. “Please,” he said, his voice rough. “Just… hear me out. I didn’t mean it like that.”

She let out a bitter laugh, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “It’s not your fault,” she said, cutting him off. Her voice was shaky and raw, but there was a surprising steadiness underneath like she was trying to take control of her pain. “I… I overthink things. I read too much into what people say.”

Logan shook his head, his brow furrowing. “But I should’ve been more careful with my words. I—”

“It’s not about you, Logan,” she interrupted, her gaze dropping to the floor. She took a shaky breath as if she were forcing herself to let him see a piece of herself she usually kept hidden. “All my life, I’ve only ever felt… I don’t know, noticed… when I was all dressed up. People would tell me I was beautiful, but only when I was like this,” she gestured to her dress, her makeup, the polished version of herself that she’d put on tonight. “And somewhere along the line, I guess I just started to believe that’s all there was to me. That if I wasn’t done up, I didn’t… matter.”

Logan’s chest tightened as he listened, his discomfort fading in the face of her honesty. He understood, more than she realized. He knew what it felt like to wear a mask, to be seen in a way that didn’t match who you were.

“Look, I get it,” he said softly, his voice thick. “I know what it’s like to feel like… like you’re on the outside. Like people only see a part of you and ignore the rest.”

She let out a short, almost bitter laugh, her gaze flicking over him, taking in the rugged, handsome man who had sat next to her. “You? An outsider?” she said, the skepticism clear in her voice. “Come on, Logan. Look at you. How could someone like you know what it feels like to not… fit?”

He swallowed, feeling the old scars hidden beneath the surface ache in response to her words. “You’d be surprised,” he murmured, his gaze distant for a moment as he stared at the wall across from them. “People see what they want to see. This…” He gestured vaguely to himself, his broad shoulders, his gruff exterior. “It’s just armor. Doesn’t mean I fit in. Doesn’t mean I feel at home anywhere.”

She went quiet, studying him with a new kind of curiosity, like she was seeing a side of him she hadn’t expected. Her expression softened, and for a moment, the two of them sat in silence, the thumping bass of the club seeming to fade into the background, leaving them in their own little world.

“I didn’t know…” she whispered finally, her voice barely audible.

Logan shrugged, his gaze dropping to his hands. “I’m not saying it’s the same. Just… I get it. You feel like you have to be something else, just to be seen. But you don’t. You’re worth a hell of a lot more than some fancy dress and makeup.”

She blinked, looking down, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap. “I… I don’t know how to believe that,” she admitted, her voice so quiet he almost didn’t hear it.

He felt a strange surge of protectiveness, an urge to make her see herself the way he did. “You don’t have to believe it all at once,” he said softly. “Just… start small. You’re here, right? That’s a start.”

She looked up at him, a faint glimmer of hope mixed with hesitation in her eyes. “You really think so?”

Logan nodded, his gaze steady and unwavering. “Yeah. I do.” He hesitated, then added, “And for what it’s worth, I didn’t mean that you’re only beautiful like this. I meant… I just meant that you looked happy. You looked… free. That’s what I saw.”

A soft, surprised smile tugged at her lips, and he felt a flicker of relief, like maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t ruined everything.

“I guess… I guess I did feel a little free tonight,” she admitted, her voice tentative, like she was still testing the idea out.

They sat there in silence for a moment, just looking at each other, the air between them charged with something unspoken. Logan felt the weight of her gaze, his eyes shifting to look down at her glossy lips. He didn’t understand why it stirred something deep inside him. 

Finally, she looked away, clearing her throat. “Thanks,” she murmured, glancing up at him with a tentative smile. “For… understanding. And for not letting me just sit here feeling sorry for myself.”

“Anytime,” Logan replied, his voice a soft, steady rumble, grounding her.

They stayed like that, close enough for him to feel the warmth of her shoulder, neither of them moving to fill the space between them. It was rare for him to feel like this—like he could just be here, be himself, and have that be enough. She seemed to relax, letting herself breathe in his presence, a hint of comfort settling into her expression.

But then her friend’s voice sliced through the moment, loud and slightly tipsy, echoing down the hallway. “There you are!” Monica stumbled to a halt, her eyes narrowing the second she noticed the red around her friend’s eyes, the tear tracks still faintly visible on her cheeks. Monica’s gaze shot to Logan, her eyes flashing with instant, protective suspicion. “What the hell? Did this guy—”

She quickly got to her feet, hands up in reassurance, cheeks flushing. “No, no, it’s fine,” she said, glancing back at Logan with an apologetic look. “Logan didn’t do anything.”

Monica crossed her arms, one eyebrow raised skeptically. “You swear? Because I’m pretty sure I could kick his ass, even if he’s big.”

Logan almost laughed, but he held back, just giving a slight shake of his head. “I’m harmless,” he muttered, though the hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Monica narrowed her eyes, looking between them with obvious doubt. “Fine. I’ll let it go… for now.” She slipped her arm around her friend’s shoulders, lowering her voice. “But hey, I found someone way more fun than this brooding guy. He’s tall, dark, and cute as hell,” Monica said, shooting Logan a sideways look. “Let’s go, yeah?”

She hesitated, her gaze flickering back to Logan, lingering there for a moment. He could see the indecision in her eyes, the hint of a question, like she wasn’t entirely ready to walk away. Part of him wanted to reach out, to tell her to stay, to keep talking, but he bit the words back. He knew she didn’t owe him anything, and he wasn’t about to guilt her into staying.

She gave him a small, reluctant smile, a little sad around the edges. “I… I’ll see you around, Logan,” she said softly like she wasn’t entirely sure.

“Yeah,” he replied, doing his best to keep his voice steady. “Take care.”

With one last glance, she let Monica tug her back toward the crowded, neon-lit main room, disappearing into the sea of people. Logan stayed where he was, the ache in his chest unfamiliar and raw. He hadn’t wanted to let her go, but he’d seen the uncertainty in her eyes, the pull between her friend and whatever connection they’d shared just moments before. And he couldn’t blame her for choosing the friend who’d stood by her through who-knew-what, instead of the stranger who’d stumbled into her life.

He let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair. He’d almost forgotten why he was even here, but the reality of it settled back over him like a cold splash of water. The mission. The damn journalist.

Reluctantly, he pushed himself off the wall, heading back into the main area to find Wade, hoping he’d at least managed to keep his eye on their target. But as he scanned the crowd, a familiar laugh caught his attention, coming from the back corner of the club.

He sighed, already knowing what he’d find.

Sure enough, Wade was slouched in a booth with some girl draped over him, her fingers tangled in his hair, her lipstick smudged against his cheek. They were laughing, Wade’s arm wrapped possessively around her waist, clearly oblivious to everything else.

Logan clenched his fists, feeling a fresh wave of irritation rise. He pushed through the crowd and stopped in front of the booth, crossing his arms. “We’re supposed to be working, remember?”

Wade looked up, still grinning, completely unbothered. “Oh, hey, Logan!” he slurred, throwing an arm out as if he were inviting Logan to join in on the fun. “Lighten up, man. Haven’t seen you all night. What, were you off getting cozy with your lady friend?”

Logan’s jaw tightened. “We have a job to do, Wade. You know, finding the journalist? Stryker’s going to be thrilled if we come back empty-handed because you were too busy making out in the corner.”

Wade just laughed, leaning back with a lazy grin. “Relax, Logan. We’ve been chasing this guy for weeks, and he hasn’t shown up once. If he’s even here, he’s not coming out till way later. Might as well have a little fun while we wait.”

Logan shot a glare at Wade’s “date,” who giggled and nuzzled closer, clearly not bothered by the tension. He felt his patience snap, his frustration boiling over. All night, he’d been on edge, caught between his need to finish the job and the emotions he couldn’t quite bury when it came to her. And now here was Wade, throwing it all away for a quick thrill.

“Fine,” Logan bit out, his voice low. “You go ahead and have your fun, Wade. I’m finishing this myself.”

Wade chuckled, unfazed. “Oh, come on, don’t be like that, man. It’s just one night. Besides…” He shot Logan a knowing look. “I saw the way you looked at her. Maybe you should be thanking me. Gave you a chance to make a move.”

Logan didn’t respond, but Wade’s words hit uncomfortably close to the truth. He had been distracted. He’d let his focus slip, and now he was paying for it.

Without another word, Logan turned on his heel and stalked away, pushing through the crowd toward the exit. The night air hit him like a slap, cool and bracing, but it didn’t do much to ease the frustration roiling inside him. He’d let Wade derail the mission, let his own emotions cloud his judgment, and now the whole thing felt like a waste.

As he started down the street, his mind drifted back to her—the way she’d looked at him, the faint trace of hurt in her eyes before she’d walked away. He clenched his fists, a new determination hardening in his chest. He might have blown this mission tonight, but he wasn’t done. Not with the mission, and not with her.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

Logan had barely made it back to the apartment before exhaustion took hold, weighing down his limbs. He kicked off his boots and peeled off his shirt, letting it drop carelessly to the floor before sinking onto the bed. His mind was still tangled with thoughts of her—her quiet smile, the guarded look in her eyes, the way she’d walked away with her friend’s encouragement. He’d messed things up, and the night felt like one long series of missed chances.

He’d only been asleep for a couple of hours when a noise jolted him awake. At first, he thought it was part of some half-formed nightmare or maybe just the usual racket from one of the neighbors. But then he caught something familiar—her voice, muffled through the thin walls. He strained his hearing, every instinct snapping to attention. A glance at the grimy clock on his nightstand told him it was 1:29 a.m.

She must have just gotten home. But she wasn’t alone.

Logan sat up, his heartbeat quickening. He knew he should let it go, should just lie back down and ignore whatever was happening on the other side of the wall. But before he could think better of it, he slipped out of bed, padding across the creaky floorboards to the front door. He pressed his ear to the wall, barely breathing, his heightened senses picking up every word.

The guy’s voice was low and easy, with that too-smooth tone Logan had learned to distrust. He sounded friendly enough, but there was an edge of expectation, a subtle suggestion that grated against Logan’s nerves.

“So… tonight was fun,” the guy was saying, a hint of laughter in his voice. “Maybe we could do it again? Tomorrow, maybe?”

Logan could picture her expression without even seeing it—those walls going up, that faint, polite smile she used when she didn’t want to let someone in. He heard her let out a soft sigh.

“I’m… not really sure about tomorrow,” she replied, her voice guarded, cautious. “I have a lot going on.”

The guy chuckled, but there was a forced quality to it. “Come on, just a drink or something. You don’t have to play so hard to get, you know?”

Logan felt his jaw clench, his hands curling into fists at his sides. The guy was pushing, trying to wear down her resistance, and it grated on him like sandpaper. He didn’t like the way it sounded, didn’t like the edge in the guy’s voice like he thought he could charm his way past her boundaries. Logan’s instinct to protect her flared, raw, and almost territorial, even though he knew he had no right to feel that way.

There was a pause, and he could hear her shifting, probably stepping back, putting a little distance between them. “It’s not that,” she said, a little too politely. “I just… need some space, that’s all. Tonight was nice, but—”

“Space, huh?” the guy interrupted, his tone slipping from charming to something a little sharper. “You know, you don’t make it easy, do you?”

Logan could feel his pulse pounding in his ears, the urge to step outside and tell this guy to back off building with each word. But he held himself in check, forcing himself to stay silent, to let her handle it. She didn’t need him barging in like some kind of white knight, as much as he wanted to.

Another pause, and he heard her take a breath, steady but firm. “I appreciate tonight. Really. But I’m not looking for… anything serious.”

The guy let out a huff, barely masking his disappointment. “All right,” he said, though his tone made it clear he wasn’t happy about it. “Guess I’ll see you around, then.”

Logan listened, tense, as he heard the guy’s footsteps retreating down the hallway. Only when he heard the click of her door closing did he let out the breath he’d been holding. His fists unclenched, but the tension in his chest didn’t ease. He knew she’d handled it. She didn’t need him intervening. But the way the guy had pushed, the subtle pressure in his tone… made Logan’s blood simmer.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he slipped into the hallway, moving quietly until he reached her door. He hesitated, one hand raised, hovering just above the wood. Part of him knew he should just let it be, go back to his apartment, and leave her alone. But he couldn’t shake the worry gnawing at him, the urge to make sure she was really all right.

He knocked, softly at first, then a little louder when he didn’t hear anything.

A moment later, the door cracked open, and she peered out, eyes widening when she saw him. She looked tired, her makeup smudged, a faint crease of worry lingering between her brows. “Logan?” she said, sounding surprised, her voice soft and uncertain. “What are you…?”

He swallowed, his voice coming out rougher than he’d meant. “I just… wanted to make sure you’re okay. I heard him… y’know. Talking.”

She sighed, glancing back into her apartment for a moment before opening the door a little wider. “You were listening?” she asked, a faint hint of annoyance in her tone.

Logan shifted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Just… wanted to make sure he didn’t give you any trouble.”

She looked at him, her expression softening, the guardedness melting away just a little. “It’s fine, Logan. Really. He was… nice, mostly. Just… maybe he wanted something I’m not ready to give.”

Logan nodded, relief mingling with an odd sense of satisfaction at her words. “Good. That he’s gone, I mean.” He hesitated, then added, quieter, “I just didn’t like the way he sounded. Like he thought he could… push you around.”

Her lips pressed into a faint smile, something close to gratitude in her eyes. “Thanks. But I can handle guys like that.” She let out a tired laugh. “I’ve been handling guys like that for a while now.”

He nodded, leaning against the doorframe, his gaze searching hers. “Yeah. I know you can.” He paused, then added, almost reluctantly, “But you don’t have to do it alone, y’know. If anyone bothers you… I’m right across the hall.”

She looked up at him, her eyes lingering on his face, and for a moment, he thought he saw a flicker of vulnerability there—a quiet gratitude she wasn’t quite ready to express. But then she shook her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Thanks, Logan,” she murmured. “But… I don’t want you to feel like you have to keep an eye on me. I don’t want to be someone’s… responsibility.”

He shook his head. “It’s not that. I just… I care. That’s all.”

Her eyes softened, and she looked away, swallowing hard. “I don’t see why you care. Why you would…given…we barely know each other.” She paused, carefully considering her words. “But it’s been a long time since someone cared,” she admitted quietly, almost as if she hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

Logan could feel the weight of her words hanging in the air. He reached out, his hand hovering just above her shoulder, but he stopped himself, dropping his hand before it made contact.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that anymore,” he said, his voice a soft murmur. “I’m here.”

She gave him a small, hesitant smile, a hint of hope breaking through the walls she kept so carefully in place. “Thank you, Logan.”

He nodded, stepping back to give her space, though he didn’t want to leave. “Get some rest,” he said, his voice gruff. “I’ll… see you tomorrow.”

She nodded, watching him as he turned to go, lingering in the doorway as if part of her didn’t want to close the door just yet. As he walked back to his apartment, he felt something shift in him—a quiet, steady resolve to be there, to be someone she could trust.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

Logan was pacing back and forth in the small, dingy apartment, so agitated that even Wade seemed annoyed for once. Wade lounged on the couch, a magazine in one hand and a look of pure exasperation on his face as he watched Logan wearing a path into the floor.

“Why are you like this?” Wade finally snapped, tossing the magazine aside. “Did your parents not love you, or something? Because this level of brooding is painful to watch, even for me.”

Logan shot him a glare, but he didn’t have a comeback this time. His usual sarcasm was buried under a mess of thoughts he couldn’t quite untangle. He ran a hand through his hair, his voice coming out quieter, almost hesitant. “It’s just… she actually seemed like she wanted to talk to me last night. Like, really talk.”

Wade rolled his eyes, folding his arms behind his head. “God, I don’t see how I keep missing your late-night heart-to-hearts in the hallway,” he said with exaggerated interest. “Sounds like you’re one step away from serenading her or something.”

Logan’s eyes kept drifting to the door, that nagging worry gnawing at him. He hadn’t heard her leave her apartment all morning, and he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that something was wrong.

Finally, Wade sat up, giving him a pointed look. “Look, man, there’s only one way to stop acting like a lovesick teenager. Just go knock on her door. You’re driving me nuts over here.”

Logan hesitated, shifting his weight. Part of him hated the idea of just showing up unannounced, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of urgency. He needed to see her, to know she was okay. Before he could talk himself out of it, he gave Wade a grudging nod and headed for the door.

"Finally," Wade muttered behind him, smirking. "Go get her, tiger."

Logan ignored him, stepping into the dim hallway. He crossed the few steps to her apartment, his hand hovering just above the door. He took a breath, steadying himself, then knocked—softly at first, then louder when there was no response.

Silence.

He waited, his heartbeat picking up as seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity. He knocked again, pressing his ear to the door, straining to hear any movement inside. But there was nothing. No footsteps, no soft shuffle of her usual routine. An uneasy feeling crept over him. He hadn’t heard her leave that morning. Had he missed something? Was she—

Just then, he heard the familiar sound of footsteps echoing up the stairwell, and he turned, relief flooding him. But the relief was short-lived, quickly turning into confusion as he took in the scene.

She was coming up the stairs, but she wasn’t alone. Walking beside her was the guy from last night—the one her friend had set her up with. The guy was laughing, leaning a little too close to her, and Logan felt his jaw tighten instinctively. She had her arms crossed, her posture guarded but polite, and though she didn’t look particularly comfortable, she wasn’t pushing him away either.

Logan stood frozen, his hand still raised as if to knock, caught between relief and a prickling sense of jealousy. She looked up and noticed him, her eyes widening slightly in surprise.

“Logan,” she said, stopping on the landing. Her voice was a mix of surprise and something else he couldn’t quite place—maybe guilt, or hesitation.

The guy at her side glanced between them, raising an eyebrow. “Oh… hey,” he said, clearly picking up on the tension in the air. He smiled awkwardly, extending a hand. “I’m Jared. I, uh… guess you’re a neighbor?”

Logan didn’t take his hand, barely sparing him a glance. “Yeah,” he said, his voice low and rough. His eyes were fixed on her, searching her face, trying to read her expression.

She shifted uncomfortably, her arms still crossed tightly over her chest. “We… just ran into each other downstairs,” she explained, her gaze flicking between Logan and Jared. “He was just walking me up.”

Jared chuckled, clearly oblivious to the undercurrent in the air. “Yeah, thought I’d make sure she got back safe, y’know? This neighborhood’s not exactly the friendliest.”

Logan felt a surge of irritation, but he forced himself to stay calm, to keep his expression neutral. “She can handle herself,” he replied, the words coming out sharper than he intended. He saw her flinch and instantly regretted it, but he couldn’t help the tension coiling in his chest.

Jared blinked, clearly sensing he wasn’t welcome, and took a step back, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. “All right, man. No need to get territorial,” he said with a forced laugh. “I’ll get out of your hair.” He turned to her, flashing a hopeful smile. “So… maybe we could catch up tomorrow? Grab a coffee or something?”

She hesitated, glancing briefly at Logan before nodding, though her smile looked a little forced. “Yeah, maybe. I’ll… let you know.”

Jared grinned, clearly taking that as a yes, and gave a little wave before heading back down the stairs. Logan watched him go, barely breathing until the sound of his footsteps faded completely. Only then did he turn to her, his expression softening as he searched her face.

“Did… you need something?” she asked, her gaze lingering on him, one eyebrow raised in quiet suspicion.

Logan cleared his throat, feeling his cheeks heat up slightly. This was ridiculous. He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to knock on her door, but now that he was here, his brain seemed to be working at half-speed.

“Uh, yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck and forcing himself to meet her eyes. “I was wondering if you had… y’know… some eggs I could borrow.”

Her expression didn’t shift, but he saw the faintest flicker of amusement in her eyes. “Eggs?” she repeated like she was testing the word.

Logan felt himself growing more flustered. “Yeah. Eggs. They’re… good for protein,” he added lamely, the words sounding as awkward out loud as they felt in his head.

She watched him for a moment, clearly trying to decide if she believed him or not. A small, skeptical smile played at the corner of her lips like she could see right through his excuse but was willing to humor him.

“Sure. I think I’ve got some,” she said, stepping aside to let him in. “Come in while I go grab them from the kitchen.”

Logan hesitated, then nodded, slipping past her into the apartment. The warmth of her space hit him immediately, and he found himself surprised by how… homey it was. The faint scent of vanilla and something floral hung in the air, and soft lighting cast a cozy glow over everything. It was nothing like the dingy, bare-bones apartment he shared with Wade. Where his walls were chipped and peeling, hers were lined with neatly hung prints and framed photographs, small touches that gave the place a warmth he hadn’t expected.

As she disappeared into the kitchen, he let his gaze wander, taking in the shelves along one wall, filled with books. Dozens of them, all stacked neatly, some with worn covers and dog-eared pages, like they’d been read and re-read over the years. He noticed a mix of genres—mystery novels, classic literature, a few non-fiction titles, and even some poetry. It was the kind of collection that spoke to someone who spent a lot of time alone, lost in worlds beyond these walls.

He moved closer to one of the shelves, fingers ghosting over the spines without touching. A few books were stacked horizontally, others arranged by height. There was a kind of organized chaos to it, a personal touch that made him feel like he was seeing a side of her he hadn’t glimpsed before. He felt a strange pang of… something. Envy, maybe, or admiration. This was her space, her sanctuary, carefully built to be hers. And here he was, intruding on it.

“Didn’t peg you for a reader,” her voice came from behind him, light and teasing.

Logan turned, a bit flustered, caught off guard by her sudden reappearance. She held a carton of eggs in one hand, watching him with that same amused expression, like she knew he was lying about the whole “egg” thing but was willing to let it slide.

“I, uh…” He scratched the back of his head, feeling like he’d been caught red-handed. “Not really. Don’t have time for it.”

She shrugged, giving him a small smile as she set the egg carton on the counter. “Reading isn’t for everyone.”

He nodded, still taking in her apartment, feeling a strange comfort settle over him in the warmth of her space. “It’s… nice in here,” he admitted, his voice gruffer than he intended. “Didn’t expect it to feel so… I don’t know.”

She raised an eyebrow. “So what?”

“Homey, I guess,” he said, almost embarrassed to admit it. “My place… it’s nothing like this.”

A faint, sympathetic smile softened her face. “Well, your roommate doesn’t exactly scream ‘homey,’” she teased, glancing around as if imagining Wade sprawled across her carefully arranged furniture, disrupting the calm. “Not really surprised you don’t put much into decorating.”

Logan let out a low chuckle. “Yeah. Wade’s more… chaos than cozy.”

She laughed softly, a genuine, relaxed sound that made his chest feel unexpectedly warm. “I can’t even picture him reading a book.”

“Pretty sure he’d complain about the ‘small font’ and give up in five minutes,” Logan muttered, and she laughed again, a light, melodic sound that filled the space in a way that felt… right.

For a moment, they stood there in comfortable silence, the unspoken tension between them somehow lessened by the simple act of sharing a space. He glanced at the egg carton, feeling a little foolish now that he had no real reason to stay.

“Thanks for the eggs,” he mumbled, reaching for the carton but not quite moving to leave. “Didn’t need them, if I’m honest.”

She tilted her head, a knowing look in her eyes. “Yeah, I figured,” she said, her voice gentle but laced with amusement. “So… why did you come by?”

Logan hesitated, feeling a sudden vulnerability he wasn’t used to. “I guess… I just wanted to make sure you were okay. After last night, and then seeing you with that guy this morning…” He trailed off, running a hand over his face. “It just didn’t sit right with me.”

Her expression softened, and she looked down, fingers tracing absent patterns on the counter. “Jared,” she said as if the name left a sour taste. “Monica’s idea. She thinks I need to ‘put myself out there.’” She rolled her eyes, a faint bitterness creeping into her tone. “It’s not really my thing, but… I figured I’d try.”

Logan studied her, catching the flicker of doubt in her eyes. “You didn’t seem too thrilled with him,” he observed, trying to keep his tone casual.

She shrugged, her smile a little sad. “He’s… nice. I just don’t know if ‘nice’ is enough.” She glanced up, meeting his gaze, her eyes holding his for a moment longer than necessary. “I guess I’ve got my own walls. Maybe it’s easier to push people away than to… let them in.”

Logan felt his chest tighten, recognizing himself in her words. “Yeah. I know how that goes,” he murmured, his voice low. “People tend to… make assumptions, think they know you just because of how you look or act. Sometimes it’s easier to let them believe what they want.”

She nodded, her gaze dropping again, her fingers still tracing absent shapes on the counter. “And what do people assume about you?” she asked, almost too softly.

He swallowed, feeling a familiar pang of vulnerability that he usually kept buried. “They see… this,” he said, gesturing to himself, to the rough exterior, the scars that lined his knuckles, the tension that seemed to live in his shoulders. “And they think I’m nothing but that. Just… rough edges. An animal.”

She looked up, her gaze soft and understanding, and he felt that ache again, the need to be seen, really seen. “You’re not just that,” she said quietly, her words barely more than a whisper. “I can see that you're more than that…now.”

A warmth lingered between them, subtle but undeniable. Logan could feel it settling over him, grounding him in a way he hadn’t expected. Standing here, in her space, surrounded by traces of her life, he felt an unfamiliar sense of belonging—like, for once, he wasn’t just some outsider passing through.

She let out a small sigh, her gaze dropping to the floor. “Anyway,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, almost shy. “Thanks for checking on me.”

He nodded, swallowing back the impulse to reach out, to close the last inch of space between them. “Yeah. Anytime,” he said, his voice softer than he intended.

She led him to the door, holding it open as he stepped into the dim hallway. Logan hesitated, lingering just outside her apartment, feeling a strange reluctance to leave. The words were out of his mouth before he could second-guess himself.

“Would you… maybe want to come over?” He forced a small, awkward smile. “I’m sure Wade would love the company.”

She looked up at him, her expression caught between surprise and something softer. A small smile touched her lips, but she shook her head, a hint of apology in her eyes. “I would, but… being around people sort of… drains me.”

He watched her, sensing there was more she wasn’t saying, something fragile behind the simple explanation.

She hesitated, her fingers gripping the edge of the door, her gaze flickering up to meet his. “Not you, though,” she added softly, almost as if the words had slipped out without her permission. Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away quickly. “Just… people in general. Introvert thing, I guess.”

Logan felt a flicker of something warm and unfamiliar in his chest. She hadn’t meant to single him out, but the admission hung in the air between them, as delicate and unsteady as a breath. “Yeah,” he said, his voice rougher than he intended. “No problem.”

She looked back up at him, a softness in her eyes that made him feel like maybe, just maybe, she was beginning to let him in. It wasn’t much—not yet—but it was enough to make his pulse quicken, to make him feel like he’d taken a step closer to something he’d been chasing without even knowing it.

“See you, Logan,” she whispered, her voice lingering in the quiet air, her eyes holding his for just a beat longer than necessary.

“See you,” he replied, his voice equally soft, reluctant. He took a step back, the warmth of her presence already beginning to fade, and gave her a small nod before turning away.

As he made his way down the hallway, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between them—a door, barely open, but open nonetheless.

[cpericardium]

This is the story of the time I interviewed at Ubisoft.

When I was a teenager, I became obsessed with the Bioshock series and got it into my head that I wanted to do game design for a living. I'd never seriously attempted it nor did I know exactly what it entailed, but how hard could it be? I gamed!! I had ideas!! I said this to my teacher during a what do you want to be when you grow up talk, and she said, "Oh! My sister works at Ubisoft Singapore. I'll get you an interview."

Emails were exchanged, and someone at the company arranged a "quick chat" with me a couple of weeks later. It was for a QA tester intern position, which I reasoned was sort of like game design. After all, in the Sims 3 it's one rung on the ladder to becoming a game developer. Also I didn't want to anger my teacher. She was quite volatile.

Round 1:

I'd never done a job interview before. I put on a nice blouse and pencil skirt and heels, nervously applied and reapplied makeup which I normally did not wear, and showed up at the office building an hour early. Then as I went up the elevator I realised they never said what room it was. I couldn't very well email to ask now. I'd look like an idiot!! Fuck!! So for an hour, I just skulked around outside various glass doors peering into offices hoping there would be some receptionist around to ask, but there was practically no one there. The email only said "let's have a quick chat at 2pm on x date".

I was about to slink home with my tail between my legs when the interviewer called at the scheduled time. It was a phone interview!!!!! He didn't say that!!!!! I found a dingy secluded stairwell. As if to taunt me, one of the first questions he asked was "have you ever been to the building?"

Me, through gritted teeth: yeah! actually I'm here right now, haha... to scope it out, you know... get a lay of the land..... it's really big... Lots of glass walls...

Him: oh that's nice.

I don't remember most of the questions, but I do know he asked me what my favourite games were. I said Undertale and Life is Strange (they had come out that year), but he'd never heard of them. Maybe I should've said Far Cry or something but what if he quizzed me on it?

Round 2:

I should not have made it to this round. I was coasting entirely on the goodwill of my teacher's sister, who was high up the chain. She interviewed me next. I think her only question was whether I would be okay working long gruelling hours with little support and no overtime.

Me, blissfully unaware of crunch culture being a massive human rights issue in the industry: bring it on!!

Her: what? 🤨

Then she ushered me into a room to take a pencil and paper test. While waiting earlier, I'd frantically googled and memorised a bunch of Ubisoft games, so I could answer the one asking me to list eight of them. I figured I could have gotten away with saying Assassin's Creed and adding a random number to the back though.

The biggest problem was on the other side of the paper: a diagram of a gaming controller asking me to label the buttons. Here's the thing. I'm a PC gamer. Always have been. At the time, my only experience with console gaming was playing Little Big Planet with my best friend when I was twelve, at her house. And I wasn't very good at it! I think I fundamentally lack the hand-eye coordination for console gaming, but that's just a guess because I can count on one hand the number of times I've ever used a controller. And I can count on one hand the number of controllers I have in that hand! It's zero! I knew the wiggly antennae were for movement and the buttons on the sides did esoteric things that people will yell at you to press during crucial moments, but that was it. I ended up labelling the buttons the shapes they were (circle button, triangle button, square button etc).

The interviewer came back into the room after about 15 minutes and said I now had an hour to play an unfinished level of Assassin's Creed, identify as many bugs as possible, and record them on a spreadsheet. And even though she set me up at a computer monitor, I still had to use a controller. Are you kidding me! This was the Victorian era Assassin's Creed. I had never played any AC games before, so I didn't know what were bugs and what were features. Was "can't jump" a bug? Was "invisible wall surrounding staircases"? What was the format and lingo you were supposed to use when recording bugs? I made no progress towards the quest at all (I did not understand it or who my character was), just wandered around and wrote down things I noticed and didn't like until time was up.

Anyway, that's the tale of how I didn't get a job I was woefully unprepared and underqualified for and in retrospect didn't want all that much. Maybe what I really wanted was to be... was Ayn Rand.

[strangegutz]

hey you played the LISA games correct?would you mind talking about ur thoughts on the games? i love the series and lov hearing people talk about it

Fuuuck that's hard, I'm already awful at putting my thoughts into words, so let's see how much i can say about something as layered as LISA.

It requires a strong stomach and nuanced thought, but I encourage anyone with a passing interest to play it. It's simultaneously the funniest and the most heartbreaking game I've ever played. I think the last time I cried playing a game before this was back when RDR2 came out. I also barked laughing so many times. It's ultimately about trauma and the cycle of abuse, it's certainly not a hopeful game- the opposite, really. I think a lot of folks would see it as hurtful or unhelpful because of this, but it's also important to feel seen when you're really hurt, you know?

You make a decision that you cannot take back. It changes your life forever. The scene ends, you think you're about to be able to sit with your feelings, but no, you walk outside a cave and see a guy with his ass out tryin to take a shit. You crush a small spider for him and he joins your party

I really like the vague worldbuilding. It harkens back to weird old sci-fi novels- a big white flash, and all the women are gone. That's all we know. Live in this world.

I feel like the "doing good makes the game harder" thing can be a bit cheesy, but I like how it's done here- the pacing of the dramatic "difficult choice" scenes is done in such a way that does make you care about choosing between a life that isn't Brad's, or Brad's own limb. Not to mention how much the world in front of you deters you from using Joy.

While I grimace at how they're physically presented, as a gay person I think the Beehive is an interesting light exploration of gay sex workers in this type of apocalypse- They're very confident and it seems like they're fine with this being their job. One of them says something along the lines of "I'm glad our community could thrive, though I wish it were under better circumstances" which I think about a lot.

I think that's all my thoughts for now. I'm planning on cosplaying Buddy this year!

[judgeanon]

So How About That Batgirl #3

I didn't transplant my review of #2 here because there wasn't that much more to say, especially in regards to Lady Shiva (which is always the most important part of any comic with her in it for me) but #3, hooo boy, there's a lot to talk about for this one.

It introduces, or maybe just expands, a concept that kinda had me feeling a bit nervous but eventually won me over, and still has room for some fun narrative trickery. So I'm gonna go ahead and post my full review of the issue down here:

Picking off where #2 left off, #3 starts with Shiva and Cass on a train heading out of Gotham to meet some allies in their fight against the unburied. And Cass is noooot happy about it.

These opening pages follow the same character dynamic we've seen so far, with Cass openly rejecting her mother's remarks while inwardly rejecting her mother in general -- her inner monologue constantly reassuring herself that Shiva is a lonely manipulative monster while Cass is a good person, clearly to try to chase away the guilt of leaving everyone behind. The desperation in Cass' inner voice to paint Shiva as an unredeemable monster is very palpable and very good in the face of everything that's happened so far.

But the next pages made me a little concerned, with Shiva berating Cass while goading her about her relation with the batfamily. And while we've seen Shiva take jabs at that before, notably in Hill's Outsiders, back then it felt more pointed (and a little meta, what with the whole "He won't even let you be Batgirl" thing), while here Shiva's comments on languages, while true in a way, felt more openly cruel. Bordering on villainous.

Had the issue stayed this way, I would've been very worried about this whole arc turning into yet another milquetoast "Evil bio mom, good found family" yarn. But then the track switches.

The lion's share of the issue is dedicated to introducing the survivors of the Order of Shiva, who have dedicated thier lives not to just worship the deadliest hands on Earth, but to study, learn & better themselves through her example. Which is an idea that could've gone very wrong. Personally? I think this is kinnnnnda neat. Mostly.

The thing is, I've never been a fan of Shiva having any kind of cult or organization built around her. I think it's the kind of stuff that can weigh her down and, at worst, just be used to make her more of a pure villain, like in Dixon's RICHAR DRAGON run. But in this issue, the idea slowly won me over with how Brombal uses it to explore two overlooked aspects of Shiva:

The first is that Shiva, at her best, tends to inspire others. Just by entering a person's life, Shiva, tends to change their perceptions of reality, of what's possible. When Shiva entered Vic's life, she indirectly got him to question a lot of things about how he viewed reality. Same with Dinah and, yes, Cass herself. And this order seems to be entirely built on that idea of Shiva as someone who makes people rethink everything (albeit with way more altruism than Shiva herself).

The other thing this whole scene explores is Shiva's dualities and seeming contradictions, her nature as both destroyer and restorer. Which is something I'm always happy to see, especially nowadays. But this is also where my one big problem with this issue lies: it pays a lot of lip service to Shiva as a healer without actually showing it.

A mention is made of Cass rejecting Shiva's help, but an actual moment of Shiva using her healing skills, to me, would've really helped support High Priest's Jayesh gushing praise of that dual nature.

Just a couple of panels of her doing some funky pressure point head massage, it's all I'm asking.

Beyond that, I do have one nitpick that's just about the one thing that keeps me from fully embracing this idea, and that's Shiva's level of involvement with the order. Jayesh drops a hint of how he met Shiva, and she seems to care at least a little for him and for the Order, but there's not a lot said about how much she helped them build and maintain it.

If they're all people who ran into her, had their minds opened and built an order around their idea of her, that's one thing. If she helped them build it then that's another. Her small moments of caring do seem to indicate she's also warmed up to them, which would suggest some relatively high involvement, which I don't really like. I'd much prefer the order being something that Shiva is aware of but keeps at arm's length, a bunch of well-intentioned groupies that, like the issue says, follow her example rather than her orders. The bottom line is that I don't like anything that Shiva seems to be too attached to, but even if she was, I'm still mostly OK with this idea.

Anyway, the final leg of the issue is dedicated to a very entertaining chase and fight across the rest of the train that's a delight to see. And while my copy's all digital, I imagine it's way better in paper. Miyazawa and Spicer clearly have a lot of fun with these pages and it continues the run's interesting dynamic of Cass and Shiva never being fully in sync during a fight, always fighting each other as much as whoever's all around them.

But apart from the action, the thing that rang a lot of bells for me was Cass' narration as it insists again that Shiva is nothing but a monster and that Cass is nothing like her, eventually flowing towards a very heroic list of all her family members and their core traits that's very nice and heartwarming... and desperate.

Because the narration in this scene all reads to me like Cass arguing with herself. It reads desperately like her trying to chase away the dual thoughts that her mother may not be a complete monster AND that she herself, Cass, really is a lot like her mother.

Hell, the scene is literally Cass running away from Shiva, punching through what she sees as undisputable proof of her mother's lies while checklisting the family she does want and love, physically and mentally fighting against even the possibility of Shiva being worthy of more than her disgust. It's not Cass rejecting Shiva for being evil, it's her trying to reject the evidence that she may have something resembling good in her.

So the whole thing takes a very heroic cliche, Cass naming all these loved one to give her strength, and turns into a flailing flurry of mental gymnastics from Cass to allow herself to keep rejecting Shiva, to maintain this inner image of her as a monster while refusing any connection with her. And it's all pretty compelling stuff.

The issue then ends with one final surprise as Cass runs into the rest of Shiva's allies: a resurrected Nyssa Al-Ghul, Angel Breaker and a brand new character we'll apparently learn more about next month. So yeah, this was an interesting issue. The pacing of the arc is still a bit slow, but with all the players (hopefully) at the table and three issues to go, I hope the rest of the arc will pick up steam and keep chugging along smoothly.

I wasn't expecting the Order of Shiva to get much more play after #1. I certainly wasn't expecting them to get expanded like this. And I definitely didn't expect it to win me over this much. Minor quibbles aside, I gotta give props to Brombal for the obvious thought he's put when laying down these tracks for Shiva, and I'm definitely in for the rest of the ride.

(then again, maybe I'm just being blinded by the intense relatability of my man Jayesh over here. I feel you, brother. Hope you survive this arc)

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Lucifer smiled, even though it would be near impossible to fully recreate Eden, the garden was made to be unique, they would come close to making it.

Lucifer: It can be as complicated as you want.

Adam: Sweet, though, I don't actually want to get lost in it.

Lucifer: Fair enough.

They left to put in Adams Greenhouse and it was beautiful, Adam couldn't believe that it was all his. There were many sunflowers and just all the plants that he loved there. The glass was stained to look like a regular blue sky, there was a large pond and an oak tree where he would rest to draw and make other art.

Adam: Thank you...... It's perfect.

Lucifer smiled: You're welcome.

Adam: Question. If it was just you and Charlie for the longest time, why is this place so big?

Lucifer: I don't know really, Plenty of space to get lost and explore. There are even places I've probably only been in once.

He makes sure to use every room at least once, it would be silly to have it and not use it.

Lucifer: I also thought I'd have more kids.

Adam: Oh, right wasn't she cursed to never have any or something?

Lucifer: Kind of, it's super difficult for her to conceive. Not that she cared, I think she never wanted kids, Charlie was just a happy accident. She said that Charlie was the only kid she was going to have. At the time I thought it was more sentimental but now it's more like just a one and done.

Adam nodded: Charlie...... She's a good kid. Has her head in the fucking clouds but she gets that from you mister dreamer. I don't know if I ever apologized for hurting her before, but I'm sorry.

Lucifer smiled and pulled him close: Thank you. Maybe one day you can say that to her.

Adam: Yeah, if she doesn't want to return the favor.

Lucifer: She won't. I'll have to sit her down and talk to her soon about the current situation but she'll understand. Maggie on the other hand....

Adam knew he was talking about Vaggie, he wondered if Lucifer did that on purpose or if he really couldn't remember her name started with a V.

Adam: She'll have a bug up her ass no matter what. I could cure cancer and she'd say I took too long.

Lucifer: Did you really tell Lute to take her eye?

Adam rolled his eyes: No, I told the bitch to take her halo. She took it upon herself to do that, whatever personal shit they have is between them.

They stayed in silence for a while just enjoying the scenery.

Lucifer: The painter will be here tomorrow.

Adam snorted: Wonderful.

The Sin of Adam!au.

One more quick au before I fall asleep.

Adam falls to Hell after his death. But he doesn't wake up in Pride. He wakes up in Wrath. Adam is completely pissed off and just itching for revenge.

In this, Adam conquers each ring of Hell, growling stronger until he's on the same wavelength as Lucifer, power wise.

Lucifer has no idea what's going on. He's slowly losing contact with the Sins, and everyone is in a state of panic. That's until he returns home from a few days away, trying to find the Sins, that he sees his daughters hotel, and Pentagram city destroyed.

Thankfully, Charlie and her friends are fine. But what she explains is unbelievable.

Charlie: It was Adam, dad!

Lucifer: Adam? He's dead Charlie- I buried him myself.

Charlie: I thought so, too! He was looking for you! He's alive!

Lucifer gets his daughter to hide. Everything is in a state of chaos. He can't find Adam anywhere.

Until he returns home and sees someone sitting on his throne.

After a long, destructive fight, Lucifer realizes that Adam only absorbed the Sins. Their not dead

Adam has literally been taken over by the powers of Hell.

Can Lucifer contain and find a way to get Adam and the Sins back before he destroys Hell and everything undead thing in it??

How will Lucifer get Adam back??

Who knows 🤷

Adam: You can't defeat me now Lucifer!

Lucifer: Oh yes I can! I'm going to fuck the sins out of you!!

Adam: Wait what?

Ozzie inside: YEAH BABY!!

Sorry I'm feeling a little silly lmao 😂

[the-universal-sun]

Hii, I've been reading a lot of you're writing andi love them so much!!! If you feel comfortable enough and only if you want to do you think you could do a sick agere? I forgot if you already done one so if you did you can just ignore this, but if not then can you do one where stan or Ford gets sick while out on the Stan O war and regress from it, thank you, again you don't have to do it or anything thank you!!!

Thank you so much! And of course I'd do it, it was they were both such lovely prompts! I hope you're still here, both of you. Sorry it took so long, and sorry it's been so long since I posted last, I've not been feeling super good myself these past few days. But! I'm feeling loads better now, maybe some rest does do one good! I hope your stomach ache feels better, those are the absolute pits, and I'm sorry you got one.

I have Ford use "stummy" here because I have a tendency to say that so I wanted him to as well. How do we feel about that word/smaller and babier words in general, yay or nay?

I hope you all stay safe out there and in this weather, drink warm and eat warm and bundle up in you need to! Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy!

As always, I welcome any helpful comments and criticisms on my writings.

Thank you for being here!

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

"Mmmmmmmh. Buddy!" Ford whined, curled up in Stanley's bed, one hand clutching his stomach and the other his head. He felt terrible. Worse than terrible. He felt awful. His stummy felt like it was rolling down hill, queasy and with sharp pains panging around periodically. His head felt too big, like his brain was going to burst out from all the pressure he felt. And he wanted to sleep, but he couldn't because everything hurt. He hated it. He hated being sick. It wasn't even his fault! Not really, he just got excited about seeing a Kraken that he stayed out in the rain longer than he should have. Stanley can't blame him for being curious, now can he? Not when he's the one encouraging him.

Ford sneezed, his stomach and head rocking. He should have listed to his brother. He sniffled, both from being sick and from holding back his tears. He wanted Stan, his Buddy. He also wanted Dr. Mittens, but he can't until his friend is properly suited up in scrubs and a mask, Ford didn't want Dr. Mittens to get sick like him. That's where Stan was, but he was taking too long, he looked at the clock on the side table. Five whole minutes!? They both should have been here four minutes ago. He opened his mouth to croak for Stan again before he appears right in front of him, slipping on his glasses. When did those get taken off?

"Hold your horses there, Poindexter, I'm here and I've got your little friend. Don't worry, he's all trussed up in that Doctor gear you made us get for him." Stan handed Dr. Mittens, all suited up and ready to safely cuddle Ford through his sickness, to him. He snatched him up, curling his body around his plush friend as his head pounds and pounds. He wants to cry, he thinks to himself, whining against his toy, he hates this so badly. Ford didn't realize he was crying until a tissue is wiping his face dry and Stan is helping him sit up.

"Noooo, don't wan'na get up," He whined through tears, hiccupping and trying to lay back down. Can't Stanley see he's sick?

"Shhh, I know. You want to lay down, I get it, trust me, Buddy, I do. But if you want to feel better, you have to take-take this, uh," Stan hesitated, staring at the warm tea that has a dose of dissolvable Tylenol in it. He hated even talking about medicine, but he has to, he has to take care of Ford. "This tea has some medicine in it-"

"Ugh, icky." a whine interrupted him. And yeah, Stan silently agreed, icky is right.

"No, not icky, Stanford, medicine to help your head feel better. Relieve your sinuct pressure or whatever it's called." Stanley propped Ford up against him. Ford made a face at the word medicine, he hated the taste and feeling of medicine, it made his throat feel icky and greasy, and it tasted to awful. "Listen, it's one o' those sweet berry teas, with some honey, so it should taste sweet enough for you taste buds." Well, Ford thought, honey is good for fighting on the inside germs that make people sick, and he does like fruit teas, so maybe if he can't taste the medicine, it will be fine. But, he clutches his stummy again as pain burst through it, there's one issue.

"Buddy, my stummy hurts, don' know, know if, the tea-" Ford hurt too much to form sentences, whining crying as his head and stummy feel even worse. He hated this. He hates it, he hates it, he hates it. He could feel himself cry, his face felt hot and his head hurt even worse! He just wants to sleep.

"Hey now, Buddy, I'm here, good ol' Stan's right here. Come on, shhh," Stan gathered Ford close and rocked him, one hand rubbing his stomach as he spoke lowly in his brothers ear. It seemed feeling small made Ford unable to hide how out of it and cruddy being sick made him. Stan hated it, how much pain his brother showed he was in, his tears, his sick whines. But on the other hand, Stan could finally take proper care of a sick Ford. Win some, lose some in his opinion. The ends outweigh the means blah blah blah. He was just glad his brother was more receptive and demanding when he's sick and Little, his brother never usually let him take care of him out of some guilt-ridden mentality about being the one to erase Stan's mind. Which is undeserved guilt, but they're working on it. For right now, he just wanted to keep his Little Buddy from crying and get some-ugh-medicine in his to soothe his pains. "Your stummy hurts? Probably from eating a whole bag of jelly beans before bed, right?" He didn't wait for a response, he didn't want to tease his brother too badly when he's regressed, he can't always understand teasing and jokes then. "It's okay, this tea is going to help your head and stummy, and you might even get a nap out of it!" Stan released a strained chuckle, still rubbing Ford's aching stomach, hoping it really did ease his pains. Just because he could better help his brother didn't mean he liked seeing him like this.

Ford felt the cup against his lips and opened them, slowly sipping the tea. It wasn't icky, it didn't taste the best, but if it helped him stop hurting and can make him sleep, then he'd drink. He felt Stan wipe his tears away again as he took small sips out of the plastic cup-it was his special moth cup-slowly so he didn't spill anything. Once finished, he's laid back down in bed, Stan had taken his glasses so he didn't squish them. He felt sort of better, maybe? His head didn't hurt as bad and his stummy didn't feel like it was tumbling down a hill, more like rolling down one. It was an approvement, more so when a hot cloth was put on his face right over his eyes and forehead. Ford sighed and settled further into Stan's bed as the blankets were tucked tightly around him and Dr. Mittens and his weighted one with all the constellations was tucked in over all the rest. Ford felt so comfy and cozy and warm.

"Buddy, I, mmmmmy head doesn't hurt..."Ford trailed off into mumbles. Huh, the tea must be working already, Ford felt so tired, but his stummy and head didn't hurt anymore, so he could actually get asleep now. No, to sleep, he could get to sleep. He couldn't keep his eyes open, one slowly closing, then the other. Ford mumbled more and leaned his head slightly into his brother's hand, the one that swept through his hair. When did that happen? Ford couldn't be bothered to think about that, not when he was so warm and cozy with the Best Brother and Buddy in the world beside him and taking care of him and petting his hair.

The rocking of their boat lulled Ford further into sleep, his stomach settled, his head cleared, and his brother and best friend right beside him.

[namjoon-koya]

Author's note: I know I haven't written on here in a while and I'll probably going to disappear again (hopefully not after getting some motivation to write again) anyways this is a series I wanted to write after playing Twisted Wonderland for a while. Yuu is the reader but I'm not going to use Y/N (I think Yuu feels more appriopate than Y/N) The series will stay in order with the game but just more content for Yuu(Reader) also this will be a afab!reader so I'll be using her/she pronouns. Also I’ll probably write events too! But those will probably be mini-series.

Warning: Nothing for the first chapter.

Prologue: Weclome to the Villains' World: Part 1

You heard something suffle, at first you decided to ignore it before hearing the same shuffle again. Was it already morning? "I better hurry up and find that uniform before someone spots me..." Your eyes shot open once you heard that voice you didn't recongize who it was "urghh! This lid weighs a ton!" Lid? what the hell did they mean by that? You gently placed your hand above you before feeling it, you started to realize you weren't in your bed.

"Try this on for size!"

The voice shouted, suddenly a flash happened as blue flames suddenly engulfed your vision "f-fire? what the-" as the flames dissappeared you heard the voice more clearly now "Now to grab the good.."

That's when you saw it, a small creature with tiny blue flames coming from its ears. "What!? You ain't supposed to be awake!" He seemed more frighten than you "W-what do you mean? what the heck are you? A talking weasel?!" You quickly scrambled out the coffin making as much distance from the creature "How...How DARE YOU! I am no WEASEL! I'm Grim, sorcerer extraordinaire! Whatever, you human! Just gimme your uniform and be quick about it! 'cause if you don't... you're going to regret it!" Grim suddenly summoned blue flames behind him.

You took one step backwards "n-no way! what else am I going to wear?! Somebody help!" You shouted "Hey, come on! I'm on a tight schedule here!" Grim summoned his blue flames towards you, but you're quick to dodge it and booking it away from him, you had no idea where you’re even going but you sure as hell weren't going to stay near him.

You continued to run making sure to glance behind you every second to see if that weasel was anywhere near you, but once you saw that he wasn't behind you; you came to a sudden stop. You let out a sigh before examining the room you were in "Where am I?" As you looked around suddenly blue flames cut you off from moving any further "Foolish human! Did you really think you could slip away from ME?" Grim was smug about it "Now unless you wanna get burned into a crisp, take off that-"

Suddenly you heard a whip as Grim yelped out in pain "Me-YEOW! That hurt! What gives?"

"Consider it tough love."

You looked over and saw a man wearing what seemed to be like a crow mask, he almost looked like a weird magician "Ah, I've found you at-" he examined you more closely he seemed... confused.

"You're a girl?" You gave him a questionable look "Y-Yes?"

"There must've been a mistake Night Raven College is a all boys school... The mirrior has never made a mistake like this before? rest assure we can figure this out maybe the mirror sensed a great magic in you? but just so you know brining a poorly trained familiar is against school's policy."

What the hell was even happening?

"as if i'd serve some lowly human! now lemme go!"

The man sighed "Yes, yes. Rebellious familiars always say that. Do be quiet for a bit, won't you?" He coveres Grim's mouth you almost start to feel bad for him..Almost. "Dear me. Of all the students I've dealt with, you're the first with temerity enough to open their own gate and step out of it. Does the very notion of patience eldue you?" before you could even answer him he cuts you off.

"Now! let's go to the orientation and figure out this sitation yes?"

"wait! before I go with you just tell me one thing, where am I?"

He seemed confused by your question "Hm? have you not fully regained consciousness?" The timespace teleportation must have addled your memories... Well, these things happen, I suppose. I shall explain it to you while we walk. Truly, my magnanimity is boundless."

He gently guides you back to the orientation hall while explaining “Ahem, this is Night Raven College. It is an institution for students the world over who demonstrate a rare aptitude in magic. It is the most prestigious academy of its sort in all Twisted Wonderland, and I am Dire Crowley. Having been entrusted with its care by the chairman, I serve as headmage.”

“Magic?!” You asked confused, “only those who the dark mirror perceives as having a talent for magic are admitted to the college, those who are selected are summoned to the campus through those “gates” which can appear anywhere.”

Crowley seemed to think for a while “maybe the magic mirror detected a rare magic in you? Maybe that’s why it summoned you here and if that’s the case while NRC is still an all boys school maybe we could help you achieve being a great mage here.”

You hummed unsure of the situation “now with all that explained let us attended your orientation.” Crowley notices you stopped walking with him “a-are you sure this is a good idea?”

“If you have second thoughts you can move to different school, but maybe you can discover great things here at NRC. We won’t force you though whatever makes you feel comfortable.” You sighed and nodded following Crowley again.

As he took you back to the room with the mirror in the middle you could hear different students talking “hey does anyone know where the headmage went? He disappeared midway through the ceremony…”

“Some headmage he is..”

“Maybe he had a tummy ache?” That’s when you saw Crowley push open the doors

“I most certainly did not!”

“Ah, speak of the devil.” A boy with red hair said.

“If you must know, I was searching for the new student who’d failed to show up for orientation.” That’s when you felt it everyone’s eyes landed on you some of them shocked “a girl? I thought NRC was a boys only academy?” One whispered “it is…” his friend replied back.

“Ahem. Please step up to the Dark Mirror and be quick about it. I’ll watch your weasel.” You heard Grim struggle trying to break free from Crowley’s grasp.

All you wanted to do was bury yourself in a hole you stepped up to the magic mirror “State your name” the mirror said “I-I’m Yuu..”

“Yuu.. the nature of your soul is…” you felt nervous why was it taking so long to decide? “It is unclear to me.”

“What did you just say?” Crowley asked confused “I sense no magical power from this one she’s soulless, colorless, shapeless. Utterly vacant, therefore no dorm would be appropriate.” You wanted to glare at that stupid mirror he didnt have to put it that way… the whispers only grew louder which put you on edge even more.

“Are you suggesting that the black carriage went to receive a person who cannot even use magic? But that is absurd! The student selection process has not erred once in its century of existence!… well besides you attending an all boys school, but how can that be?” Crowley was lost in his thoughts that he didn’t even see Grim start to wiggle out free.

“Me! Let ME have this student’s seat!”

“Not so fast, you hyperactive weasel!”

“Unlike that student here, I can actually use magic! So let me be a student here! Look, I’ll show you! It’s my signature spell the cat’s meow!”

“Everyone get down!” Someone shouted, Crowley is quick to push you behind him even this situation is unclear he wasn’t going to allow you to get burned especially considering the paperwork he would have so write if you got injured, “AH! Help! I’m on fire over here!” A student shouted.

“Someone catch that blasted animal before it sets the entire school ablaze!”

“Ugh. Can I go now, or…?”

“Oh? I thought you fancied yourself a hunter. Go and help yourself to that plump little morsel!”

The student rolled his eyes “too much effort. Do it yourself.”

“Allow me to handle this, headmage Crowley, if none of you are up to the task of catching a small animal, I will accept the responsibility.” That’s when you saw a floating screen and a voice talking through it “WTG, Azul. Rackin up those participation credits.”

“Hey, um, my butt’s still on fire… could someone maybe put this out?!”

“I’m sorry, were my instructions unclear?!” Crowley scolded.

One student sighed before crossing his arms “preetty sure you can handle catching one mangy weasel all on your lonesome there, headmage.”

“How many times do I gotta say it?! I’m Grim, a spellcaster extraordinaire! I am NOT a weasel!”

“Aren’t you a spunky little fellow? Riddle, would you be so kind….?”

Riddle nodded “Furry miscreant. I will abide no rule-breaking. You will be judged by my hand.”

You could only watch as Azul and Riddle went after Grim casting spells to capture him, “Are you injured Yuu?” Crowley asked, you examined your uniform but didn’t see any injuries or burns “no I’m fine thank you.”

“Off with your head!” Riddle suddenly shouted you saw as a collar wrapped around Grim’s neck “Myah! What are you doing?!”

“The Queen of Hearts’s Rule 23: One must never bring a cat to a formal affair. Your very presence here is a violation of order, You will vacate these premises immediately.”

That response only seemed to anger Grim more “But I ain’t a cat either! Don’t you try’n collar me! I’ll burn it right off! Huh…? Wh-what gives? My fire ain’t workin!”

Riddle chuckled “until I deign to remove that collar, you won’t be using any magic. You’re naught but a pet cat now.”

“I ain’t nobody’s pet-NOTHING!” He said glaring at Riddle.

“Oh, you’ve nothing to worry about there. I certainly have no interest in having you as a pet. The collar will disappear once you’re removed from campus.” Riddle informed Grim. “Good show as always, Riddle. Your signature spell locks down any magic. It’s quite handy. I’ve just GOT to have it- I mean I’ve just got to have respect for it.” Azul smiled.

“Yuu! Was I not clear that you are expected to take responsibility for your familiar?Now discipline your-“

“He’s not mine! Did you literally not see how he tried burning me before you intervened?” You sighed.

“Oh.. it isn’t yours?”

You shook your head “nope, I’ve never seen that creature before in my life!”

“Ahem! My mistake then, I shall have it expelled from campus, I shall even spare it from being served as dinner. My, but am I kind.” You almost rolled your eyes.

“Someone take this away please.”

“Nooo! Let me goooo! You fools better remember my name! Cause I’m gonna go down in the annals of magic history! Just you wait!”

You watch as some students drag Grim away, you’re not sure why you almost felt guilty for not defending him. You shook off the feeling turning your attention to Crowley “well that was quite the unexpected fracas. I hereby declare that orientation has concluded. Housewardens, please escort your students back to the dorms.” Crowley paused before looking around, “hm? Come to think of it, I don’t see Housewarden Draconia of House Diasomnia anywhere.”

“And that surprises you? Dude’s a total recluse.”

“Wait a sec… did anyone even invite him?”

“If you’re that worried about him missing out, maybe you should have told him yourself.”

“Maybe.. but I don’t know him too well either…”

You hear students start to talk about him, some of them almost sounded scared of him. Was he actually that terrifying? “Ah, just as I’d expected. I figured I’d come down here and see for myself whether Malleus had made an appearance. But once again he was evidently not informed that his presence was required at an official ceremony.”

“You have my sincerest apologies. I assure you this oversight was in no way intended as a snub.” Azul said, “I mean, you must admit. He’s not exactly the easiest person to strike up a conversation with.” Riddle replies.

“No matter. All who were assigned to house Diasomnia, follow me. I just hope he doesn’t sulk about this..” serval students follow behind him as he leads them somewhere else.

Whatever this place was.. is definitely confusing, you turn your attention back to Crowley “Well, Yuu. This is a most unfortunate turn of events. I’m afraid you will not be attending Night Raven College after all. Surely you realize that I cannot very well admit a student with no magical ability to my academy.”

You shrugged “well I don’t think I was meant to be here in the first place honestly.”

“In any case the Dark Mirror will see you safely home. Now, step into a gate, and visualize the place from whence you came.”

You nodded and stepped towards the Dark Mirror, “O Dark Mirror! Return this soul to where it belongs!”

You both stood there for a few seconds waiting for the mirror to send you home, but.. nothing happened. “Ahem! L-let us, er.. try this again. O Dark Mirror! Return this soul—“

“There is no such place.”

“What?”

“There is no place in this world where this soul belongs. None.”

“How can that be? My, but today is a veritable cavalcade of impossible phenomena! This has never happened throughout my long tenure. I must confess that I am something of a loss. Tell me from what land do you hail?” Crowley asked.

“S-Sure I’m from…” you explained to Crowley about your homeland only remembering a few bits of it, but Crowley seemed troubled when you told him about it.

“I’m afraid I’m not familiar with such a place. I am intimately acquainted with the origins of every student who has ever come here, and yet… This mysterious homeland of yours eludes me.”

Crowley seemed to think about what to do next “let us go to the library and look it up, shall we?” You nod a follow behind Crowley as he leads you back to the library, once arriving there you both go through various books trying to find your home.

Crowley sighed as you both came up empty handed “Just as I suspected. Nothing. Not only is your homeland not listed on any map from any point in history. Now, are you QUITE sure that you come from such a place? That wasn’t some sort of lie, or jape? Because if so, the only explanation is that you’ve come from another planet… or perhaps you were summoned here from another dimension?”

“Another planet?! I-I doubt it…”

“Show me everything that you brought here with you. Do you have some form of identification, a driver’s license perhaps? Or even… a shoe? You do seem a tad bit.. empty handed…”

You feel around your pockets trying to find something but again there was nothing, you shook your head in defeat “well, this is quite the predicament, I cannot have someone with no aptitude for magic bumbling about my magic academy. And, yet as an educator, I am loath to expel a young person without a cent to their name or any ability to contact their guardian… truly my grace is boundless.”

Crowley seems lost in his thoughts as he tries to come up with a solution, “oh! There’s a vacant building on this campus. It was in fact used as a dorm a long time ago. With proper cleaning. It should be habitable enough. Out of the profound kindness of my heart I will allow you to live there for the time being, in the meantime we investigate other ways to send you home. Dear me, but I am a gracious man indeed! A model educator, one might say.”

You held back the urge to roll your eyes at Crowley was he seriously just praising himself right now? “Well then, I shall take you to your dorm straight away. It is an older building but it has plenty of… character, one might say.”

You decide not to question what Crowley meant by that and followed him out, you continued to walk behind him until he suddenly stopped.

Now you know why he said that about the abounded dorm, “uh.. you want me to stay here?”

“Isn’t it delightful? Right, scoot inside now. There you go.” Crowley gently pushed your back making you step forwards to the dorm. Once entering you saw damaged furniture and dust covering it, you cringed at the sight of the cobwebs stuck into the furniture.

“This should keep the elements at bay for the time being. Now I should return to my research, do try to find some way to busy yourself. But do not let me catch you wandering the campus! Ta!” Crowley walks out of the dorm leaving you alone, you sighed “I don’t even have a place to sit..”

You picked up a few things off the floor and placed them on a nightstand, you suddenly heard the soft drumming of rain. It was almost calming for you to hear the rain until a sudden noise ruined it “gwah! It’s pouring out there!”

You quickly looked over and saw Grin “h-how did you-“

“That look on your face is priceless! Like a bat that got blasted by a water gun! As if I wouldn’t just sneak back onto the campus the second I escaped pryin’ eyes. You all got no idea what I’m capable of! I ain’t givin’ up on goin’ here just cause I got kicked out one measly ol’ time. And if you think otherwise, you don’t know Grim!”

You let out a sigh, you had to hand it to him though. Once he was determined to do something he definitely wasn’t going to give up, “why are you so determined to go to this school?” You asked.

“Isn’t it obvious? I was born to do this! I’m a a magical prodigy who’s got the makin’s to become one of the greatest mages who ever lived! So I’ve been waitin’ and waitin’ for that black carriage to come for me. And yet…” Grim’s ears went flat “hmph! That Dark Mirror’s got no eyes for talent! That’s why I took the initiative and came here myself. You humans don’t understand what a mistake you’re makin’ not lettin’ me in is a great loss to the world!”

Suddenly Grim jumped to the seat next to you “c’mon scoot over! I’m gettin’ dripped on here!” Grim felt another drop on his head “another hole in the roof?! These flamin’ ears are like my trademark, Y’know? I can’t let ‘em get doused!”

You sighed “unfortunately there’s a lot of them Grim, good luck not getting them wet.”

“I dunno why ya just don’t magic those holes away. You could have it fixed in half a jiff. Ah right. You can’t use magic at all. Hmph! Man, you’re useless.” You glared at him, “oh? Then why don’t you do it?”

“Hm? You want me to help you? You got the wrong idea, I’m just a stranger takin’ shelter from the rain. You ain’t the boss of me. If ya had some cans of tuna to trade, well, that’d be another story. But I don’t work for free.”

You rolled your eyes at Grim before feeling another drip of rain, “well I’m going to look for some buckets.” As you got up from the couch you noticed Grim shivering, you weren’t sure how long he was out in the rain for before he came to this dorm.

What he said still pissed you off, but you hated to see his small body shiver. You removed your jacket and placed it on top of Grim, “mwah! What are ya’ doing?!”

“You looked cold just use my jacket to warm up while I go look for some buckets.” You walk away from Grim leaving him baffled, Grim curled himself inside your jacket his shivers stopped.

As you start looking around the dorm you suddenly heard a loud creak in the wooden floors, you hesitated to keep moving suddenly three ghost appeared in front of you. You let out a shriek as you quickly stepped away from them one of the ghost began to laugh “we haven’t had a guest in ages!”

“Oh I’m just itchin’ for new friends!” They all laughed again “g-ghost?! What the hell?!”

You suddenly heard Grim’s voice “Hey, keep it down over-“ that’s when Grim let out a shriek of his own “g-ghost?!”

“All the people that used to live here got scared of us and ran away. We just want new ghost to play with! What do you say buddy?”

“N-no way!” You shouted, you heard Grim let out small cries “I’m a master sorcerer! I ain’t afraid of any dumb ghosts!” Grim used his magic to throw a fire spell on them only to miss “nuh-uh. Not even close.” One ghost teased.

“Over here! Over here!”

“Argh! They keep disappearing and reappearing!”

You watched as Grim’s fire burned at wooden floors, “Grim stop! You’re going to burn down the dorm if you keep missing!”

“Shaddup! I don’t need any lip from you, human!” God did you want to strangle this cat.

That’s when you got an idea “Grim! If you beat all of them maybe the headmage will let you enroll!” Grim continued to ignore you even that didn’t get his attention, “I’m Grim, master sorcerer! How come I can’t even hit one of these little-“

Suddenly the ghost appeared around you and Grim “ganging up on us… you’re a bunch of cowards!” You sighed “Grim maybe let me help?”

Grim finally broke and gave his attention to you “You, human! You tell me which way the ghost are!”

“Understood!”

You stayed focused as you shouted for Grim to shoot his fire left, finally the both of you were able to work together.

“Ah it burns!” One ghost shouted.

“Ha! Got one! Keep it up, just like that… and let’s clear out the whole lot of ‘em!”

“You got this Grim! I got your back.”

Thankfully Grim worked together with you to get rid of the ghost, “we gotta get out of here! Before we disappear for good!” The three ghost left finally leaving you and Grim alone.

“H-huh? Did we… win?”

You nodded happily “Grim that was amazing!” Grim let out a sigh of relief “I was scared outta my— I mean they didn’t faze me one bit! Just a walk in the park for a mage of my caliber! Whaddaya got to say now, ghosties? That’s right!”

You smiled at Grim “Good evening. In another gesture of my immense kindness, I have brought you dinner.” Shit, you didn’t expect Crowley to come back especially when Grim was right there in front of him, “wait! That’s the creature we ejected for causing trouble at orientation! What is it doing here?!” Crowley shouted.

“Hmp! Takin’ care of the ghost problem, that’s what you’re welcome by the way.”

Crowley turns his attention to you “what’s the meaning of this, Yuu?”

You began to explain everything to Crowley and especially the teamwork you did with Grim to get rid of the ghosts at the dorm, Crowley listening to every bit of information you told him.

“But you know, on that topic, I do seem to recall that this dorm had a mischievous ghost problem. Ah, yes… that’s why it was abandoned, in fact. The ghost scared away all the students. And you’re saying that you two joined forces to drive them away?”

“Joined forces? Ain’t exactly the way I’d describe it..” Grim said, “more like I drove em’ away, and the human watched. And I only did it ‘cause I wanted some tuna. Wait a minute! I never got those cans of tuna ya promised me!” Grim said angrily at you, “we’ll talk about that later.” You said nervously.

“Would you two be so kind as to demonstrate your ghost-eradication methods for me?”

“One, no, cause I already wiped ‘em out. And two no, ‘cause where’s my tuna?!”

“I will play the part of the ghosts. As for the tuna, you will receive it when you defeat me. Oh what generosity, Crowley… now to chug this transformation potion!” Crowley suddenly appeared as a ghost in front of you and Grim.

“Ah, you gotta be kiddin me. I gotta work together with the human again?” Grim sighed “Hey this could be your chance to enroll.” You said gently nudging Grim “all right, but this is the last time. And I better be up to my jowls in tuna afterwards!”

You start instructing Grim on which sides to use his fire on, you’re able to stay focused and Crowley wasn’t able to spook Grim once after completing a few rounds Crowley reverts back to his human form.

“Well…?” Grim asked looking at Crowley “incredible! I’ve never seen anyone bend a monster to their will quite the way you have. I must confess, my educator’s intuition did sense something about you after the events at orientation, Yuu. I could tell you had a certain animal trainer-y beast master-ish quality to you, oh yes. That said I…”

Crowley gets quiet he starts mumbling to himself, you and grim stare at each other confused before looking back at Crowley. That’s when you get an idea “would it be possible for Grim to stay with me?”

“What? A monster, stay here?”

“Did you just..” Grim says shocked at what you said.

“Please?”

“Hm, I suppose I cannot deny your plea, very well.”

“Myah! Really?” Grim said excitedly.

“Let me be clear! Under no circumstance would I admit anyone to Night Raven College who has not been selected by the Dark Mirror—especially not a monster! Nor do I intend you, Yuu. To freeload until you’re able to return home.”

Grim sighed “never shoulda got my hopes up…”

“Now, allow me to explain. It was the Dark Mirror who transported you here. Therefore this school does bear some responsibility for your well-being. So I will allow you to remain in this dorm, free of charge. However you will need to pay for your own food, clothing, and incidentals. As to how you will do so, penniless as you are hm… ah yes, a fine plan.”

You gulped “I don’t think that was a good laugh…” you mumbled

“you needn’t seem so alarmed. I’m simply going to ask you to do a few odd jobs around campus. From what you’ve done here, Yuu. I can tell you know your way around a broom. So what do you say to you two working together as a janitorial team? If you agree to that, I will make a special exception and allow you to remain on campus. I’ll also allow you use of the library, so that you may study, and research ways to return home. How boundlessly charitable I am. Ah! But only when your work is over, of course!”

“Whaaaat… what kind of deal is that?! I wanna put on one of those sweet uniforms and be a student, not sweep up people’s junk!” Grim complained.

“If you’re not satisfied with my offer I can arrange to have you thrown out again.”

“All right, fine! Let’s do it.”

“Fair enough…”

“Wonderful. Then I beseech you both… to work hard as the newest members of the Night Raven College’s janitorial staff!”

After that Crowley left leaving you and Grim alone at the dorm, you let out a sigh “we should get some rest… if we can get it at all.” You both made your way up stairs to the bedroom as it was in the living room the bedroom had everything covered in dust.

“How are we supposed to sleep in here?”

“Grim see if you can find any blankets around the dorm I’ll try to clean up here.” Grim was about to complain, but instead he didn’t and left you alone in the bedroom.

You tried dusting off the bed as best you could, this dorm needed a lot of repairs but it would have to do for the meantime. You could only hope that you would find your way back home again or at least Crowley would find it.

Grim came bouncing back into the bedroom with some blankets, they looked old and worn out but at least you two would be able to keep warm “Yuu, you actually did a good job making the bed look comfy!” Grim threw himself on the bed purring in delight.

You chuckled lightly “well thanks that makes me feel better.” You didn’t have any pajamas to sleep in so you decided to stay in your uniform for now, you covered yourself and grim in the blanket.

You sighed and stared out the window, the rain seemed to stop for now.

Would you ever find your way back home?

(Also I did not proof read this it’s like 3am lol)

[perihel1on]

This has been stewing in my drafts for awhile as I try to get my thoughts together, but, this post has given me a lot of peace. (This kind of turned into a personal essay under your post... my apologies).

I'm in an unusual position as a (mostly) interpreted-singlet who spent a number of years as interpreted-plural. Though I'd wager it's slightly less unusual than it seems, and most people with similar experiences simply abandoned or deleted the blogs/spaces where they previously talked about being plural. Anecdotally, I've seen at least one other person openly discuss an experience similar to mine.

In my teenage years, I was psychologically disintegrating from a variety of pressures on me, and I suppose I do mean that rather literally. I never experienced the very sharp discontinuity characteristic of DID, but I was some level of dissociated near constantly for years. I was desperately lonely and very suicidal. Without my alters, I do believe I wouldn't have survived.

I never "made up" being a system. Interpreting my experiences that way made the most sense to me at the time. As I began to heal, I dissociated less and became less fixated on my inner-world and sense of self. I never discussed it openly here, because I felt ashamed, and worried that I'd be accused of either faking or suppressing my alters. But I quietly stopped talking about them, quietly retired (most of) their sideblogs, and quietly used my "system tag" less and less.

But - if you go look at my "system tag" - you'll notice I still use it occasionally. I do still sometimes have experiences that are at the very least system-adjacent. I still dissociate sometimes; now and then I'll get the phantom physical sensations I always associated with Naph; sporadically, my thoughts will take the form of back-and-forth chatter that sounds like a conversation, or default to "us/we"; I'll seem to hold multiple conflicting opinions on the same topic. A few months ago, Ada (our caretaker) talked me down from an anxiety attack while I drove home, and that was an experience so distinct I can't really refer to it any other way.

Previously I would have obsessively interrogated these experiences, trying frantically to fit them into a cohesive picture of self or selves. Now I really just let them happen as they happen. Overall, for me, personally, I think it's healthier to interpret everything as part of one very fluid identity. But when something seems to challenge that, I don't worry about it too much, either. It's a sort of radical self acceptance, I suppose.

For the most part, I don't "miss" my alters, and I also don't "regret" having identified as a system. I'm very grateful to my alters and everything they did for me, but for the most part I now view their strengths as my own. I still have sideblogs for a few of them, but I see them more as places to express distinct facets of myself. I still don't feel like I have a strong, central identity - a lot of facts I hold about myself come with a question mark. I suppose I could call us a median system, if I wanted to... I'm just not sure I feel the need for labels anymore.

I very rarely see the grey area acknowledged and I don't think I've ever seen it put so succinctly as "interpreted-singlets" and "interpreted-plurals". Other than the one other person I mentioned before, I'm not sure I've ever seen it suggested that it could be reasonable for some people to migrate between or be able to interpret themselves either way. This honestly helped me come to terms with it more, to the point I felt like I could talk about it publicly like this.

So, sincerely, thank you.

Hey uh, not sure if there's anything to elaborate on wrt the "wanting to be plural is a symptom of being plural" post, but is that true? Because I've been avoiding that possibility, if only because I've been so sure that it isn't a possibility. I don't really know what I'm saying here it's just, could that post really be true?

So we thought we were the only ones selling this kind of perspective to people, but recently pluralrespect on neocities (which we already liked re: intrasys relationships) started including something similar, but with more structure.

It breaks down like this: Singlets choose to interpret their personal experiences as being one person. It gets privileged as the default because that's how we're socialised, but a (usually unconscious) choice is being made to view all their experiences - including kinda plural-coded stuff like code switching, masking, genderfluidity, weird dreams, varying vibes day-on-day, internal conflict, etc - as representing a singular identity.

There are also a lot of people who's experiences can't realistically be interpreted singletwise - folks that experience switches with totally separate memory is an extreme example. The plural explanation is the only thing that makes any sense of it at all.

This creates this big grey area that encompasses all those interpreted-singlets with kinda-plural experiences, and those interpreted-plurals who could reasonably interpret themselves as singlets (again) if they wanted to. Within this grey area, you have the wiggle room to observe your personal experiences, and conceptualise your identity one way, or the other way.

One of those ways might feel more "right" to you, more sensical, more comfortable, safer - so in that sense, yeah. wanting to be plural is a symptom of being plural. Fantasising about what it would be like to understand yourself in the other way is probably a sign that you should try it - see how thinking of yourself that way feels, just for a day or whatever. If it's too weird, go back. If not, keep going.

Now, letting yourself have an open mind may invite experiences that make a singlet interpretation less sensible - so only test the waters if both possible conclusions are safe for you to have. Outside of that, you can always change your mind - so, give it a shot.