#But insane reader is clawing at my brain rn!!!

[idkfitememate]

Tired of normal guy readers, where are my fucked up little guy readers? Where are my psychopaths and yandere readers? My monster readers??

I’m tired of being the damsel in distress I wanna be the one who kidnaps the princess- I don’t give a shit if I win I wanna be a silly little guy who killed millions just so a silly man in overalls can come beat my ass!

I want to be the villain!! I wanna be the bad guy!! Wanna write some crazy readers…

In the same vein, better insane rep! Sure the crazy psychopathic laugh this is always great, a tried and true method, but what about my quiet crazies? The ones who use pretty privilege to get away with stuff? My calm crazies? I want more variety!!

Let the inane have no sad backstory, let the crazies do their stuff while knowing full well that what they are doing is perfectly wrong, POS (pieces of shit) who do the things they do just because it’s fun! I’m gonna write readers like that one day just you wait… just gotta stick with chaotic ones for now - ease into it…

And before anyone says anything, I love BSD - Nikolai is BBG, Danganronpa was one of the first fandoms I was truly in - Junko/Monokuma are two of my highest kins, Mahito is my favorite character in JJK, Toga and Twice were the only things keeping me with MHA, I would die for Undertaker in general, Dottore & Douma, Beam from ChainsawMan was one of my first introductions to that franchise. I know my crazies and I’d push them into oil fires. I love them very much.

Now if you excuse me I’m gonna go nurse my insane and psychopathic readers until the time is right to release them into the world. Also I need to go to sleep-

[reidsworld]

Scars of Time Chapter Two: Wild Horses

Summary: In which you met Logan for the first time.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Fem!Mutant!Reader

Category: Fluff

Content Warnings: Use of Y/N, slightly ooc Logan?

Word Count: 1.1k

Song… Wild Horses by The Rolling Stones

Mars speaks… This was supposed to be so much longer and include a flashback to 2000 but I split it up into two chapters because I don’t have the motivation or time rn to finish the rest of the chapter. But I wanted to post this because I can’t leave you hanging! I love this song so much it’s insane.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | < Previous Part | Next Part >

1997

The bar was a relic of another time—dim, smoke-filled, and worn around the edges, much like the people who frequented it. It was the kind of place where dreams came to die, swallowed by cheap booze and the haze of cigarette smoke. Logan had been here before, or at least somewhere like it; they all blurred together after a while. A familiar escape, where the noise and violence drowned out the memories that clawed at his mind. The fights paid well, sure, but it was the pain he welcomed—the one thing that cut through the static in his brain.

He sat hunched over at the bar, nursing a glass of whiskey that tasted like gasoline. The crowd was caught up in the latest fight, their cheers and jeers forming a thick, desperate hum. Logan tuned it all out, his focus sinking into the amber liquid before him, searching for something—anything—he couldn’t quite name.

And then he heard it: a voice, clear and haunting, cutting through the noise like a knife through butter. It wasn’t haunting in the way that brought fear, but in the way that it didn’t belong—a beautiful melody in a place that had forgotten beauty. It wasn’t loud, not above the chaos, but it was sharp enough to slice through his thoughts. Logan turned, his curiosity getting the better of him. His gaze settled on a small stage in the corner, barely more than a rickety platform with a single microphone. And there you were, standing under the dim glow of the bar lights.

Your voice was low, with a melancholic melody that seemed to rise and fall like a whispered confession. The room seemed to shrink around you, your voice somehow filling every empty space. Logan’s grip on his glass tightened as he watched, unable to tear his eyes away. You didn’t belong here. Not in this place, not in this crowd. There was something different about you—the way you held yourself, the way your eyes seemed to scan the room as if searching for someone, as if your voice was searching for something too. It was a haunting reminder of what shouldn’t be here, yet here you were, an unexpected echo of something that touched the very soul.

When you sang, it was like peeling back a layer of yourself, revealing something raw and fragile. Logan could hear it in every note—the kind of sadness that only came from knowing too much, from losing too much. He recognized it because it was the same kind of weight he carried.

His body moved before his mind caught up, drawn to you like a moth to a flame. The crowd around him faded, the noise dulled, and all that remained was your voice—soft and evocative, like a gentle melody that lingered in the air. Logan found himself at the foot of the stage, closer now, close enough to feel the pull of you in his veins.

The song drew to an end, the last note hanging in the air, thick with emotion. The crowd applauded, but you barely noticed, your gaze locking onto his. Logan felt a spark of recognition—something old and familiar. You looked at him like you saw something in him that others didn’t, something even he wasn’t sure existed anymore.

“You’ve got a hell of a voice,” Logan said, his voice rough but genuine. “And great taste in music too. Wild Horses is one of my favourites.”

You smiled, a small, sad smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Thanks.”

There was a pause, a moment suspended in time, the air between you charged with something neither of you could quite name. You were both searching, feeling out the edges of this unexpected connection, drawn to the pieces of each other that fit like a puzzle.

“I’ve seen you fight,” you finally said, your voice softer, almost like a confession. “You’re good. Really good.” Your gaze flickered to the dog tags displayed on his chest.

Logan shrugged, playing it off. “It’s just a job,” he muttered, his gaze flicking away for a second. “Pays the bills.”

“But that’s not why you do it,” you countered, leaning in slightly, your voice just above a whisper. “You fight because it’s what you know, isn’t it?”

Logan’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t deny it. “Maybe,” he said after a moment, his eyes meeting yours again. “But it’s enough.”

Your gaze drifted to his hands, fingers unmarked, skin unblemished despite the brutality of the fights you’d seen him in. “I saw your fight earlier… How are your hands already healed?” you asked, brow furrowing in genuine curiosity.

Logan’s smile faded, a shadow crossing his features. “Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” he replied, his tone guarded, defensive.

You held his gaze, something unspoken passing between you. “I have a… gift too,” you admitted, voice dropping to a hushed tone. “I heal. Others, myself… doesn’t matter. I know what it looks like when someone’s wounds disappear like that.”

Logan’s expression shifted, his eyes narrowing slightly as he searched your face for… what? The truth? Understanding? He wasn’t sure. “So, you know what it’s like,” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

He reached out his hand to help you down. You nodded, grabbing his hand, stepping off the stage to stand closer to him, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his skin. “I do. But it doesn’t make it any easier, does it?”

“No,” Logan said quietly. “It doesn’t.”

A silence fell between you, thick with the weight of shared secrets. You could both feel it—the pull, the spark of something deeper.

“I’m Y/N,” you finally said, breaking the quiet.

“Logan,” he replied, and your names hung in the air like a promise.

You leaned in a little, your voice a soft murmur. “Buy me a drink?”

Logan’s lips curved into a genuine smile, small but real. “Yeah,” he said, his gaze lingering on you, “anythin’ for a gorgeous girl like you.”

You moved to the bar together, side by side with his hand on the small of your back, two people finding a sense of peace amidst the noise. The night stretched on, filled with low conversations, sidelong glances, and the kind of comfort that comes from being seen for who you really are.

As the first light of dawn filtered through the dirty windows, and the world outside began to wake, you both felt it—something beginning, something worth holding onto. And for the first time in a long while, Logan didn’t feel quite so alone.

Mars speaks… (again) September is really busy for me but I wanted to give you guys something! Any and all feedback is always appreciated🫶

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