#and the fact that all she wanted was to be understood too

[lunawolfiefoxy]

More Legend Headcanons

Legend grew up with a terrible lisp, like so bad he couldn't be understood. He'd try to talk to people, but his uncle would need to translate for him so he could be understood. When his uncle passed, he took to not speaking because, well, who would understand him anyways?

When he learned Hylian Sign Language, it was the first time he was understood by a lot of people. It made him feel good to be understood after so much confusion. So he took to learning how to sign in all the other languages so that the communication barrier could be broken.

It wasn't until Marin came along did he start speaking again, and she helped him speak coherently. He was actually really proud when Tarin understood what he was saying the first time he said it.

So from then on, he's been working on his speech until he meets the chain, which is when he's at his "speaking high". He didn't want to tell them about the fact he has a lisp, or to have them find out, so he listened to them and mimicked a lot of what they said and how they said it until he had a mix of a royal, country, pirate, and even some of Wild's accent. (Wild has a bit of a lisp too it doesn't care about it).

It's not until the first time he gets sick around them do they find out about his lisp, and boy is it hard to understand what the poor thing is saying.

"'on' tok ee!"

"...What did he say?"

"Oh! He said 'dont touch me'! Aryll used to talk kinda like that when she was little-r!"

And Legend is thoroughly embarrassed while the others are embracing it and learning to understand his lisp until they can hold a conversation with him while he's sick or sad or whatever the case may be.

[sabrinasopposite]

don’t you want me like i want you?

clark kent x guitarist!reader

don’t you want me

like i want you baby?

sleep tonight but tonights going crazy

meet me at the…. APT.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

For some, music is a companion—a loyal shadow that lingers, a daily necessity. But for others, it’s more. It’s everything. They don’t just hear it; they see it in the shifting hues of the sky, feel it in the vibration of the earth, live it in every heartbeat. For them, music isn’t a sound; it’s a language, a lifeline, a mirror.

For y/n, it was all of that and more. It was a sanctuary, the only way to release the emotions she couldn’t quite speak aloud. Music was her escape—a getaway car racing through uncharted roads. Plug in the headphones, press play, and suddenly, the world became a little softer, a little brighter. It was like being handed a map to a place only she understood.

But sometimes, the search for new music felt like a hunt—a quest for the perfect sound that could stir her soul, rekindle a spark, or provide the soundtrack for a moment she hadn’t yet lived. For y/n, this hunt was eternal, an ache as familiar as the chords of her favorite songs.

She had arrived in Smallville just weeks ago, a town so quiet it seemed like it could have been plucked from the second verse of a Radiohead track—melancholic yet oddly serene, with beauty tucked between its stillness. It was a far cry from the electric heartbeat of New York City, where she’d spent most of her life.

Smallville felt like a genre she’d never chosen—like a punk rocker trying to write country ballads. You either adapted and found the rhythm, or you didn’t. Y/n wasn’t sure yet which way it would go.

New York had been loud, chaotic, a symphony of endless possibility. Smallville was... still. Too still. But in that stillness, y/n found space to think—a fact that scared her more than she cared to admit. Change was like hearing a song for the first time: jarring, unfamiliar. But sometimes, if you gave it a chance, the melody could surprise you.

Her first days in Smallville were spent wandering its streets, letting herself get lost, hoping to stumble upon something—a spark, a rhythm, a new favorite lyric in this quiet album of a town. High school loomed on the horizon, another challenge she wasn’t ready to face. Her only solace was her family: her parents and her older brother, Theodore.

Theodore was her opposite in some ways but her twin in one crucial aspect—music. While she craved the melancholic poetry of The Smiths and the atmospheric pull of Fleetwood Mac, Theodore was all raw energy. His heroes were The Clash and the Sex Pistols, their messy rebellion plastered all over his bedroom walls.

Their playlists were mismatched, but their shared passion for sound connected them like two strings on the same guitar.

“You listen to sad music,” Theodore teased one night as she scribbled lyrics in her worn notebook.


“And you listen to angry music,” she shot back, smirking.


“Anger gets things done. What does sadness do?”
“It makes you feel,” she replied simply, her words trailing into the hum of a record spinning in the background.

It was during one of her aimless walks through Smallville that y/n saw it—a poster taped to a lamppost, its bold letters practically leaping off the page:

“LIVE MUSIC! TALON EVERY FRIDAY NIGHT!”

Her heart skipped, the words striking a chord in her chest. She’d passed the Talon a few times—a cozy coffee shop with an unassuming exterior—but now, it gleamed with possibility.

A smile crept across her face, bright and mischievous like the neon ink on the poster. Maybe this is it, she thought. A way to feel like herself again. To stop feeling like a background instrument in her own life.

She ran her fingers over the strap of her guitar case later that night, her mind racing. She hadn’t performed since New York—a string of open mics where she poured her heart out to strangers in dark rooms. But this felt different. This felt like the start of a new setlist.

Theodore didn’t take much convincing. Over dinner, she pitched the idea “Live music at this place called the Talon. Friday night. Let’s go.”


“You mean you should go,” he replied with a smirk. “With your brooding Smiths covers.”


“And you can bring your chaotic drum solos,” she countered, grinning. “Fine. But I get to pick one song,” theodore said, his grin mirroring hers.

🖤

As the days rolled by, the night of the Talon finally awrrived. y/n had been counting down to it, her excitement mingling with nervous energy.

The Talon wasn’t just any coffee shop—it was the place to be in Smallville. By day, it was a cozy corner where locals sipped lattes and caught up on homework. By night, it transformed into a buzzing hub for the town’s younger crowd, especially students from Smallville High.

Lana Lang, a fellow student, was the mastermind behind it all. Running the Talon was more than just a job for Lana—it was her dream, a vision she’d nurtured into reality. She’d given the shop a unique vibe, blending vintage cinema posters and retro lighting with warm, earthy tones that made it feel timeless. The Talon was Lana’s way of shaping the world around her, just like music shaped y/n’s.

For y/n, tonight was about sharing her heart through her guitar. But for Clark Kent, tonight was about surviving his friends’ enthusiasm.

Clark hadn’t planned on going. Events like this weren’t his thing—too loud, too crowded, and not exactly farm-boy friendly. But Chloe and Pete had been relentless.

“Come on, Clark!” Chloe said, practically dragging him along Main Street. “You can’t spend every Friday night doing farm stuff or staring at your ceiling. Live a little!” Yeah, man,” Pete added. “The Talon’s where it’s at. Music, coffee, and a crowd that’s actually, you know, alive. It’s way better than your barn.”

Clark sighed, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets. “I don’t even like these kinds of events. You guys know that.”

“That’s because you’ve never given them a chance,” Chloe said with a knowing smile. “And besides, Lana’s worked really hard to put this together. The least you can do is show up and support her.”

Clark glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. “So this is about Lana.”

“No,” Chloe replied quickly—too quickly. “It’s about live music. Supporting local talent. Being a good friend. And, okay, maybe it wouldn’t kill you to, you know, talk to her while you’re there.”

Pete laughed. “Clark Kent, master of subtlety. I bet he stands in the corner all night, sipping coffee and avoiding eye contact.”

Clark shook his head but couldn’t suppress a small smile. “Fine. I’ll go. But only for a little while.” Chloe and Pete exchanged victorious looks as they stepped into the Talon.

The place was already packed, the buzz of conversation and laughter filling the air. Y/n and Theodore arrived early, her guitar slung over her shoulder and his drumsticks sticking out of his back pocket. Theodore had been grumbling about being dragged out of the house, but Y/n could see the glimmer of excitement in his eyes.

Clark, on the other hand, stuck close to Chloe and Pete, scanning the room. The warmth of the fairy lights and the smell of coffee filled the air, and despite himself, he felt a bit more at ease.

“See?” Chloe said, nudging him. “This isn’t so bad, is it?”

Clark shrugged but stayed quiet. His eyes wandered to the small stage at the far end of the shop, where musicians were setting up. He didn’t recognize anyone, but something about the electric energy in the air made him pause.

🖤

Meanwhile, Y/n was standing offstage, tuning her guitar and stealing glances at the growing crowd. Her nerves were starting to show, but Theodore gave her a reassuring nudge. “You’ve got this,” he said, tapping his drumsticks against his leg.

“Thanks,” she replied, trying to steady her breathing. This was it—the start of something new, in a place she was still trying to call home. And as the first chords echoed through the Talon, the crowd quieted, and all eyes turned to the stage.

y/n stood at the center of the small stage, her white guitar resting comfortably in her arms, as if it had always been there. Her outfit—a mix of rockstar glam and effortless charm—caught the light just enough to make her seem larger than life.

She looked like the kind of girl people might describe as a "rockstar’s girlfriend," but there was no mistaking her presence. She wasn’t anyone’s shadow; she was the main event. A free spirit with fire in her veins and a guitar that held all the words she couldn’t speak aloud.

Her style might have turned heads, but it was her eyes that truly shone under the purplish lights. They sparkled with the energy of someone who had something to say and wasn’t afraid to let the music do the talking.

The room buzzed softly with conversation as she stepped up to the mic. She leaned in, her lips curling into a playful grin. “Hi, everyone,” she began, her voice warm but laced with the sharpness of her New Yorker accent. “Hope you guys are ready for something a little... rocky tonight.” She chuckled, the sound carrying through the room like the first strum of a chord.

y/n scanned the small crowd of the Talon, her heart pounding. The faces staring back weren’t familiar, but that didn’t matter. She wasn’t performing for recognition. This was her way of speaking to the world, of sharing her stories—even if some of those stories were ones she’d only imagined.

Love, for instance. It wasn’t something she’d experienced firsthand, but it was a world she often visited in her mind. She’d written countless poems about it, pouring her thoughts into metaphors and melodies.

Tonight, she was ready to turn those words into something real, even if it was just for three minutes under the Talon’s lights. She glanced over her shoulder, locking eyes with Theodore. His drumsticks were poised in his hands, his posture relaxed but ready. She gave him a small nod, a signal to drop the bass and let the rhythm take over.

With that, Theodore struck the first note, a deep, vibrating pulse that seemed to ripple through the room. y/n felt the vibration in her chest, grounding her, reminding her why she loved this. The noise of the crowd softened as the music began to build, pulling everyone’s attention toward the siblings on stage.

y/n closed her eyes for a brief moment, feeling the weight of the guitar in her hands. Then she opened them, her fingers finding the strings instinctively. The first chord rang out clear and strong, cutting through the hum of the room like a declaration.

The song they were playing was called APT, a fun, energetic piece she had written inspired by a drinking game her friend from downtown, NYC had introduced her to.

It was a game called Apteu, and although it was just a silly tradition, it had given y/n the perfect material for a lighthearted, upbeat song. The track was full of energy and rhythm, designed to get people moving and feeling good—just the kind of vibe she wanted to set in this crowded room tonight.

She started to sing, her voice rising and falling with the melody, effortlessly weaving through the rhythm. Her eyes sparkled with passion, each word she sang carrying the weight of emotions she often kept hidden. When y/n sang, it was like she wasn’t just performing; she was living inside the song, letting every note and lyric become part of her. She embodied it, lost in the world of the music, letting it carry her to places she could only dream about.

Her voice was a perfect blend of sweetness and edge, like honey with a kick of spice.

“Don't you want me like I want you, baby?

Don’t you want me like I need you now?

Sleep tomorrow, but tonight, go crazy. All you gotta do is just meet me at the…”

Her voice echoed through the Talon, drawing the crowd into her spell.

Clark, who had been standing in the back, arms folded and quietly observing, found himself completely captivated. His eyes followed y/n as she moved, completely lost in the song, and suddenly, he realized he was too. It wasn’t just the music—it was the way she poured herself into every note, the way she made it feel like her voice was something raw and real, like it had never been rehearsed, only lived.

His friends, Chloe and Pete, were watching him, but Clark couldn’t tear his eyes away. The entire room seemed to pulse with the beat, and y/n was at the center of it, effortlessly drawing everyone into her orbit. He wasn’t sure if it was the way the song felt so alive, or the way y/n seemed so in tune with every word she sang, but there was something about it—something about her—that hit him harder than he expected.

“She’s good,” Chloe whispered, nudging him. ,,Better than good, actually.”

Pete grinned. “I told you. This is way better than farm chores.”

Clark barely heard them. His focus was entirely on y/n, who was lost in the music. Her eyes glinted with emotion, her whole body swaying in time with the rhythm, and Clark felt that strange spark again, like the first crack of lightning on a stormy night. He was drawn to her in a way he didn’t understand, but the more she sang, the more he couldn’t look away.

y/n smiled briefly as she sang, her gaze briefly meeting Clark’s across the room. It was a fleeting moment, just long enough for him to feel something—a connection he couldn’t name, but he couldn’t ignore.

As she finished the song with a flourish, the crowd cheered, and y/n’s face lit up, glowing with the warmth of the applause. But for a brief second, Clark was still caught in the aftershocks of that look, a smile that was just for him—or at least, that’s how it felt.

The crowd cheered, some shouting their praise while others lingered at the edge of the stage, chatting and laughing. y/n was swarmed by a few people who complimented her performance, but she stayed humble, thanking them with a bright smile and an easy laugh. Theodore hung back, his arms crossed over his chest, watching her with a quiet pride.

As the buzz of conversation filled the air, y/n and her brother moved off the stage, standing near the side of the room to catch their breath. Clark, still lost in the aftershock of her performance, was snapped back to reality when Chloe grabbed his arm, pulling him forward.

“Come on, Clark, let’s go say hi! You can't just stand there looking like you’re stuck in a trance,” she teased, her eyes glinting with mischief.

Pete followed, still grinning. “Yeah, man. She’s great, huh? Let’s go talk to her.”

🖤

They walked toward the area where Y/N and Theodore stood, and for a moment, Clark hesitated. His heart was still pounding, and his mind was a little lost in the world he’d just experienced. It was just a song, just a girl—yet, something about the way she’d sung had gotten under his skin. But as they got closer, he found himself caught in the whirl of people milling around, all eager to meet the new musician, all laughing and talking.

“Hey, I just wanted to say you did an amazing job,” Chloe said, reaching Y/N and flashing her a wide smile.

Y/N returned her smile, her eyes still alight from the performance. “Thanks! Glad you liked it. It’s always a little nerve-wracking to play for people you’ve never met.”

“Well, you nailed it,” Pete chimed in. “You’ve got a real gift. And that song—APT—man, that was infectious. You had everyone in here dancing with you.”

Y/N laughed, her voice warm and sincere. “I’m just glad it got people vibing. It’s one of those silly songs, you know? You gotta embrace the fun in it.”

Theodore stood silently beside her, occasionally nodding when someone complimented his drumming, but for the most part, he seemed content to watch his sister shine in the spotlight.

Clark hung back, not sure if he should join the conversation. His mind was still racing with thoughts of Y/N, of how she seemed so at ease on stage, and how her smile had made him feel like they were the only two people in the room. But he didn’t speak up. Instead, he found himself standing just out of reach, watching quietly, unsure of what to say.

After a few moments, the conversation began to drift away from the music, and people started to break off into smaller groups, chatting about other things. Clark felt the opportunity slipping away.

“I guess we should get going,” Chloe said after a while, her tone casual, but there was a hint of something in her voice, like she could tell Clark was still lost in the night’s events. “It’s getting late, and we don’t want to leave our fearless leader to fend for himself.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Pete agreed, giving Clark a playful nudge.

Y/N’s eyes caught Clark’s again as they turned to leave. Their gazes met, and for a heartbeat, it felt like the world paused. But before Clark could say anything—before he could find the courage to step forward and introduce himself—she turned back to talk to someone else, lost in the group.

Clark hesitated, and the moment passed.

“Well, that was… interesting,” Pete said with a grin as they headed toward the door. “You seemed like you were a million miles away, man. You’re telling me you didn’t feel that? She’s something else, huh?”

Chloe gave him a teasing look. “Clark’s not the type to swoon over a girl in a coffee shop, Pete. Let him off the hook.”

Clark didn’t answer. His thoughts were elsewhere, stuck on the look they’d shared. He thought, maybe, there could have been something. But as they walked out of the Talon and into the cool night air, the excitement of the night began to fade, and he couldn’t help but think—he’d probably never see her again.

Y/N looked behind, her gaze following Clark as he walked out of the shop. Her eyes lingered on his tall figure and dark hair—he looked like a soft song, something out of Fleetwood Mac's Dreams or maybe Tears for Fears' Head Over Heels.

Her heart was pounding, maybe from the adrenaline still coursing through her after the performance. Or maybe it was the memory of those ocean-blue eyes.

🖤

The weekend passed, and Monday arrived all too quickly. For some students, it was just another Monday. Clark hadn’t expected to see Y/N again. Hell, he didn’t even know her name or who she was, but a part of him felt like he’d known her forever. Maybe it was the music that surrounded her—the way it made her seem like someone whose story everyone somehow already knew.

He’d thought about her all weekend.

Her song was stuck in his head, just like the memory of those purple lights that seemed to reflect her presence.

But another thought kept creeping in—he’d probably never see her again. She sounded like she came from New York; maybe it had been just a visit. What kind of girl like that would live in Smallville? She seemed like she belonged in a vinyl shop, or in some city where she was constantly surrounded by music.

Yet, as he walked down the hallway of Smallville High, he saw her.

Y/N was leaning against a locker, laughing and talking with Theodore. Her bright smile seemed to light up the entire hallway, and for a moment, Clark felt the world slow down.

He didn’t know what was happening to him. Sure, he’d been shy around Lana earlier that school year, but this was different. He didn’t even know Y/N—he’d only met her eyes across a crowded room. And yet, here he was, feeling… weird.

When their eyes met again, Y/N smiled, a mix of recognition and curiosity. She nudged Theodore and pointed in Clark’s direction.

“That’s the guy from the other two people who congratulated us—Friday night!” she said.

Theodore glanced over his shoulder, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Sis, a lot of people talked to us that night. I barely even remember the girl who gave me her number.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and walked away from her brother, heading straight toward Clark. His steps slowed, but his heart raced faster with every second.

“Hey, aren’t you the guy from the Talon—Friday night?” she asked with a warm smile as she approached him.

Clark blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, yeah. Clark. Clark Kent.”

“Y/N,” she said, extending her hand. Her handshake was firm, confident. “So, do you go to every show, or was Friday just a lucky coincidence?”

“I don’t usually go to shows,” he admitted, a shy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “But maybe… I’ll consider going to more.”

Y/N grinned, her expression easy and relaxed. Something about her grounded him, helping him find his footing. She was tilting her head slightly as if studying him. “You don’t seem like the ‘crowded coffee shop’ type. What pulled you in? Was it the music, or did someone drag you there?”

Clark chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Chloe and Pete—they kind of insisted. Said I needed to ‘get out more.’”

“Sounds like good friends,” she said with a laugh. “It were the two that I talked to— right?”

“Yeah—- they loved it seriously,” Clark admitted. “And I… well, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.” His words came out more honest than he’d intended, and he quickly added, “The music, I mean. You were amazing up there.”

Her expression softened, a touch of surprise flickering in her eyes. “Thanks. That means a lot.” She paused, glancing at him curiously. “So, what do you do? Besides getting dragged to coffee shops by your friends, I mean.”

“Mostly farm stuff,” he replied, his voice carrying a hint of shyness. “My family has a farm just outside of town.”

“That explains the whole ‘rugged, mysterious’ thing you’ve got going on,” Y/N teased, crossing her arms as she leaned against a nearby locker.

Clark laughed, a little flustered. “I don’t think anyone’s ever called me mysterious before.”

“Well, there’s a first for everything,” she said with a playful shrug. Then her tone shifted, becoming more sincere.

Clark smiled and looks at her. ,,And— the guy with the drums was your boyfriend or..?” he said curiously— of course he didn’t want to build up some hopes but, why not asking right?

Her smile widened, and she glanced back toward Theodore, who was still leaning against the lockers, pretending not to listen.

“Well— definitely not. His name is Theodore and he is my older brother. He shares the same passion like me— he is more into sex pistols and I am more into the smiths. But music’s always been my thing. It’s… kind of like home, no matter where I am.” she started to ramble— she was quite a talker.

Clark nodded and found that adorable of how she got into a conversation flow. “That makes sense. You looked like you belonged up there.”

Y/N looked at him for a moment, her gaze softening. “Thanks, Clark. Really.” Then, with a mischievous glint in her eye, she added, “So, are you going to stick with the ‘guy who never goes to shows’ routine, or are you thinking about breaking that streak?”

He smiled, shifting his weight slightly. “I guess that depends. Are you playing again soon?”

“Maybe,” she said, clearly enjoying the game. “Guess you’ll have to keep an eye out.”

Clark nodded, his shyness melting away as her energy pulled him in. “I’ll do that.”

“Good,” she said with a soft smile. “See you around, Clark Kent.”

And with that, she turned back to Theodore, leaving Clark standing in the middle of the hallway, feeling like the world had shifted just slightly under his feet.

As he watched her walk away, Pete and Chloe appeared at his side, both smirking.

“Smooth, Clark,” Pete teased. “Real smooth.”

Chloe grinned. “So, is this where we start dragging you to more coffee shop gigs?”

Clark didn’t answer. His gaze was still fixed on Y/N, a small, thoughtful smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “Maybe you should.”

🖤 i hope u guys enjoyed! and stream APT by my girl rosé

[atimesfeeler]

I can’t figure out how to get to this part in my fic “Rotten Ones” but I’ve been sitting on this wip forever *throws it at you*

(Old Logan in Wade’s universe is dead btw)

“So whats your fucking deal, huh? What’s your problem?”

“Nothing. I don’t have a problem,” Scott said coldly.

Logan snorted. “Yeah right. Look if you want me off your fucking property take it up with Chuck, alright?”

Scott took a slow steady breath. “The school is for all mutants.”

Logan made a grumbling laugh into his drink and took a swig. The large gulp swooped through his stomach and up to his brain, an instant but brief buzz. It made him tipsy enough to yank the bottle away and squint at Scott.

“You hate him or something?”

Scott bristled, “Who?”

“Your Logan,” he clarified, “Did you hate ‘im?”

“Did you hate your Scott?” he fired back, and Logan couldn’t help but tip his head back and laugh. A deep laugh that shook his stomach and made him feel even worse. It was funny, and it hurt like nothing else.

“Hate him? Sure,” Logan said with a smile and watery eyes, “but god, did I love him.”

Scott looked taken aback, and it was the first real emotion Logan saw on his face since he met this version of Scott. The worst part was that Logan knew him, and while this wasn’t his Scott, he was close enough that Logan could probably figure him out. Logan loved his Scott. Of course he knew him.

Scott was standoffish and an asshole and had the biggest stick up his ass out of anyone that Logan knew. It was a combination of a traumatic childhood paired with the innate awkwardness that Scott carried and the fact that he wasn’t allowed to be a human being for a little while. He told Logan his whole past once, drunk out of his mind and slumped against Logan on the couch. It was during his grief over Jean, and Logan had asked what made her so fucking special. She was special, no doubt, and Logan had picked up on it as soon as he met her, but Scott clung to her like an anchor- like he was a sailor lost at sea and she was his buoy, his fucking savior. He couldn’t let her go, and he couldn’t let Logan in, and Logan wanted to know why. So Scott told him. Misfortune, abuse, alienation, pressure. Jean helped him out of the dark place Scott had been in, like a candle in a cave and Logan couldn’t fault him for holding onto her like he was scared of the dark. Scott was scarred and broken, and Logan foolishly thought he could help out Scott back together, like Jean did. But Logan didn’t fix things. He broke them.

So of course he knew that Scott was just like this, and Logan hated that he understood and that this Scott didn’t know. Didn’t know that he knew. That he cared. That he understood.

Scott was silent for a moment and then he said, quietly, “Then why did you leave?”

It was said curiously this time, and it clicked to Logan that this was the reason Scott didn’t like him. Scott thought he left and abandoned his X-Men for another world, and he was right, in a way. Duty and responsibility were ingrained into Scott’s personality. If nothing else, he was there for his X-Men, for Charles, for Jean. He always had a bone to pick with Logan over leaving the mansion periodically when the responsibilities were too much, and Scott’s heart eyes for Jean were too loud. Scott always got on Logan for leaving when they might need him, and he was right in the end.

Logan took a shuttering inhale. Part of him knew he didn’t have to tell Scott. A voice that sounded like Wade, a little bit. But Logan was nothing if not self-sabotaging and a larger part of him wanted to hear, deserved to hear it. He’d imagined and dreamt of Scott’s reaction for a decade at least, and it haunted him- not knowing. He found Scott dead. The last thing he heard Scott say was over the phone in a voice recording. “Come on, Logan. Just come back. I know I… I know we have our differences but… we need you. The X-Men need you. Just come home, please.”

“He’s gone,” Logan croaked, and it never got easier saying it. “They’re gone. All of them. Couldn’t save them.”

Scott didn’t say anything, and Logan couldn’t tear his eyes away from the rim of his bottle.

“I wanted-” Logan's voice cracked. “I didn’t want to tell you, you know.”

He glanced up and saw red reflected back at him and quickly looked away.

“Didn’t want to see that look you’d give me,” Logan admitted and chuckled, though it wasn’t funny. He swallowed. “But I deserve it. I deserve it.”

Logan took a large swig of his bottle, almost emptying it. Scott was silent and that was almost worse. In all his horrible fantasies, Scott yelled and reprimanded. He blamed and cried and they argued just like how they fought when Jean came back, but worse. Logan always made him meaner, in his mind. He didn’t know why. In reality, Scott was maybe not nice, but he was kind. Compassionate. Always the bigger person. Better than Logan despite all his baggage. Not more likable, not by a long shot, but more of a hero than Logan would ever be.

“I didn’t, by the way,” Scott said, breaking the heavy silence.

Logan looked up with a frown, confused.

“I didn’t hate you,” Scott clarified, “Him, I mean. We were…”

Scott looked away, and Logan clung to his murmured words like a dying man, blinking through the drunken state so he could remember what Scott was going to say.

“I didn’t love him like you loved each other,” Scott settled on and his brow furrowed. “I don’t think he loved me like that either. But I did love him. He was… he was my best friend.”

Logan didn’t know what to say.

“I can’t say for sure, but your Scott… he probably loved you too,” Scott said simply, and Logan sucked in a sharp breath. “And I don’t think he blamed you either.”

Tears welled in Logan’s eyes, and he grunted, shoving his palm hard into his eye socket. A shaky sob-like breath escaped his lips against his will. The last thing Logan wanted to do was cry in front of a Scott that didn’t know him like his Scott did and didn’t know what Logan had done.

Wordlessly, Logan shook his head, shoulders tensed from holding back emotion. Logan hadn’t cried over the attack in years. He had buried the pain and become numb to it after awhile, but coming here, seeing the X-Men alive and different- it was too much. He had held it together for Wade and Laura and the missions, but of course it all came crashing down when he talked to the one person who didn’t give a shit about him. God. He missed his Scott. Even if his Scott wouldn’t be as kind as this one, he missed him. Wasn’t that fucked up?

Logan must have said it outloud, a mangled sentence choked around a sob, “I miss him.”

Because a warm hand landed on his shoulder, and Scott murmured, “I miss him too.”

It was all the more painful knowing that Scott missed a different version of him, comforting Logan missing a different version of him. Wade was right. This multiverse stuff was all bullshit.

“Isn’t that fucked up?” Scott echoed, and he let out a huff of a laugh, but it wasn’t amused.

“I’m sorry I-” Logan exhaled shakily, trying to calm himself. “I’m sorry I’m here.”

Logan glanced up at Scott, probably looking pathetic with red-rimmed watery eyes and a crumpled expression. He saw a crease in Scott’s brow, and despite how different this Scott was, Logan once was fluent in all Scott’s micro expressions. He looked nervous, a little unsure, a little sad. Sympathetic maybe. It would have been better if Logan found anger there and resentment, but he didn’t.

“Don’t be,” Scott said, “Don’t be. Look, I’m sorry I was an asshole. I didn’t know if you were like him or if you were going to be worse.”

“Worse,” Logan laughed wetly. “Definitely worse.”

“Good.” Scott cracked a smile. “I’d hate you if you were better.”

Logan huffed a weak laugh through his nose at that.

Scott squeezed his shoulder once and said, “Take it easy, Logan,” and quietly left the kitchen.

Logan was glad for the solitude even if the ache of missing his dead lover grew. But there was this sort of… peace that settled over him. Maybe his Scott really wouldn’t blame Logan if he could speak to him. Maybe his Scott really did love Logan once. The things that kept him up at night were answered, and while it wasn’t by his Scott, it helped. Logan didn’t want it to help. He wanted it to feel worse, but he exhaled a large breath through his mouth and felt his tears subside and felt better despite it. Logan set down his almost empty bottle on the kitchen island and didn’t pick it back up again.

Logan calmed himself by taking large gulps of air through his nose and out through his mouth. He was alone but on every inhale he could smell the children and the teachers. Warmth. Life. He caught a whiff of blood- Wade’s signature scent- and realized he didn’t want to sit alone anymore. He wanted to go to bed. He wanted Wade to chat his ear off and distract him from his thoughts better than any bottle ever had.

Logan pushed himself to stand and dumped the rest of the bottle down the sink and tossed it in the trash. He ambled up to his room with dragging steps and cracked the door open.

Wade was lying on the bed on his stomach, tapping away on his phone. Playing some brightly colored game.

“Hey! You’re back-“ Wade stopped when he saw Logan’s face. “What happened?”

There was so much concern, so much care behind Wade’s voice that the tears Logan fought so hard to get rid of swelled back. He ducked his head to hide himself and sat heavily on the edge of the bed. Wade was there in a second, sitting on his knees behind Logan and putting an arm on his shoulder.

Logan hid his face in his hands as he spoke. “Talked to Scott.”

“Oh,” Wade said, knowing and… something else. Disappointed, maybe.

“It… it wasn’t easy,” Logan said.

“What did he say?” Wade asked, and Logan could tell by his tone that he was trying never hard not to jump out of the room and hunt Scott down. The thought almost made him smile.

Logan shrugged, failing to find the right words.

“You gotta give me something, honey, do I need to steal his tooth brush and stick it in questionable places, or do I need to get my gun?”

Logan huffed and chanced a look at Wade, seeing his innocent look that spoke volumes of violence.

“Neither. It… helped. What he said,” Logan admitted, “I guess I wanted him to, I don’t know, yell at me. Blame me for shit. But he didn’t.”

“Oh,” Wade relaxed slightly. “That’s good, then. So he was nice?”

“As nice as Scott can be, yeah,” Logan said.

Wade frowned. His hand left Logan’s shoulder.

“Do you…” Wade started in a small voice, “Are you two-“

“No,” Logan cut him off with a scoff, “With this Scott? No. And I wouldn’t. He’s different, and he’s got Jean.”

“That didn’t stop you before,” Wade hummed and Logan could take offense, but he was too tired, and he could tell Wade didn’t mean to push his buttons. It was said gently, proddingly.

“No,” Logan conceded, “But he didn’t love his Logan like that. Not like in my universe. My Scott is long gone. I… I’ve accepted that.”

Wade didn’t say anything, and Logan tacked on. “And I’m not putting myself through that love triangle shit again.”

Wade laughed softly, “You don’t like to share?”

“No,” Logan growled. It was fun at the time, and Logan told himself that it was what he wanted. Both of them. And maybe if they loved him the same amount they loved each other, Logan could have been happy. But they loved each other in the light, and they loved Logan in the dark. He was their vice, their third, their fun, their fights. But he wasn’t their partner. Logan always went and loved people who used him and even if they loved him: Scott, Jean, Kayla- they used him too.

“I don’t want to get in between their shit again. Butt in their life. I just want to live mine.”

And it shocked him a little to hear himself say that. Logan hadn’t wanted to live his life in a long time. For a while, he didn’t even want to live.

“Oh thank god,” Wade exasperated, “I didn’t know how to break the news to you that second time is really not the charm.”

Logan snorted. “Asshole.”

Wade laughed softly and silence fell between them. It was that weighted kind; the one where Logan knew Wade was rearing up to say something.

“Can I hug you?”

Logan lifted his head from his hands and looked at him. There was this hopeful expression on his face, and he started rambling before Logan could answer.

“You just look like you could use a hug. And I could too. If I’m being honest. Who wouldn’t need a hug from that amazing sack of pillows? God, you could suffocate me in them and I’d thank you, really-“

Logan just leaned towards him, bumping his head against Wade's shoulder. Before he could decide if he regretted it or not, Wade melted into him. Immediately Wade pulled Logan closer, turning him so that he could wrap his arms around Logan’s neck, and Logan found himself pressing his face into Wade’s warm shoulder. His arms gradually came up to his waist and gripped the back of his shirt. Wade let out a shuddering sigh and that’s all it took for the water to leak out of his eyes. Logan smudged his silent tears against Wade’s soft cotton shirt and sniffled.

“There you go, big guy,” Wade murmured and while it might have sounded condescending to Logan once, now it just sounded soft. “Let it all out. Papa Wade’s gotcha.”

[paigesbasketball]

Under Oath

Chapter 2: The Crying whispers of Deception Paige x Black OC Warnings: swearing, sister issues

The tension in the air was thick, the kind of atmosphere that presses down on you the moment you walk into a room. Me and my sister grew more apart as the years went on and lets just say she got herself into shady shit, so when the I heard the news of Paige and her teammates breaking the contract with my sister’s company the thought had hit me like a ton of bricks. But it wasn’t the breach of contract that troubled me most—it was the fact that the company was her company, and I had no idea that my sister was involved with something so crucial to Paige’s team.

My sister had always kept me at arm’s length when it came to her work. I understood that she was ambitious—driven, even—but after everything that had happened with the college situation, the shady deals she’d gotten herself into, and the paths she’d gone down... I never thought she’d be involved with something like this. This company? It wasn’t some high-end, adult market. It was for kids.

That thought hit me hard. For all the messed-up things I knew she’d done, this—this was supposed to be a company dedicated to creating a safe, fun space for children. But there she was, wrapped up in a business deal with Paige and the UConn team, a team that had just broken the contract with her. It didn’t sit right with me.

I knocked twice on the door, already knowing the answer. Her icy tone beckoned me inside.

"Come in."

As I stepped into her office, the coldness of her demeanor was immediate. She was seated behind her desk, papers scattered around her, and a sharpness to her eyes I hadn’t seen in a while. The moment she saw me, her lips thinned into a tight line.

"What’s this I hear about you getting involved with Paige and her team?" Her voice wasn’t exactly hostile, but there was an edge to it that made my chest tighten.

I walked toward her desk, carefully placing the file about the contract I’d been looking into. "I’m just asking questions, Sis. I found out that some of Paige’s team broke the contract with your company, and I wanted to understand why."

Her gaze flicked to the file I’d placed in front of her, and I could tell by the way her lips curled that she didn’t want to discuss it.

"I don’t need you meddling in my business," she snapped. "I can handle it."

I didn’t back down, despite the icy reception. "I wasn’t planning on meddling," I said, keeping my tone steady. "But KK is involved in this, and I’m not just going to ignore it. She’s a lifelong friend. I need to know what happened."

At the mention of KK’s name, my sister’s eyes flickered. For a moment, I thought I saw something shift in her—almost like she wasn’t quite prepared for this conversation to take this turn.

"KK? That’s your defense?" She leaned forward, her face hardening. "If you were a real sister, you wouldn’t be helping them. You wouldn’t be involved in this at all."

Her words hit me like a slap. My pulse quickened as I stared back at her, trying to read her face, trying to understand why she was acting this way. She wasn’t usually like this. There was something off. Her eyes, usually so confident, were now dark, brimming with something I couldn’t name.

"You’re not telling me something," I said, stepping closer to her desk. "Why are you acting like this?"

For a moment, she didn’t answer, the silence heavy between us. Her jaw tightened, and the look on her face—one of betrayal, of cold anger—seemed to consume her entire expression. Her features seemed to absorb it, like she was becoming that feeling. I could see the walls coming up, the barrier she’d always put between us when things were too complicated for her to deal with.

"Just get out of my office," she snapped harshly, standing up and gesturing toward the door. "I don’t need your help, and I don’t need you questioning me."

I couldn’t just leave, not when everything was wrong in the air between us. I refused to back down. "Tell me what’s going on, and I’ll leave," I said firmly, crossing my arms. "Why are you so upset? What’s really bothering you?"

There was a flicker in her eyes, a brief moment where I thought she might actually open up to me. But instead, she stiffened, clenching her fists. And then, she said it—the words that would change everything.

"I made a contract with the UConn team to try and get in good faith with Paige," she confessed, her voice almost a whisper, like the words burned her. "I was just trying to make things right with her."

I didn’t believe it for a second. My sister hated Paige. She had always made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with her, especially after everything that had happened between them. This wasn’t about "making things right"—it didn’t make sense.

"You’re telling me you made this deal to make peace with Paige?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. "That doesn’t sound like you."

She didn’t meet my eyes. "I was trying to show good faith," she muttered. "But this is just Paige trying to deceive me again. She always does this. I’m trying to play nice, and she thinks she can push me around. Well, I’m not going to be made a fool."

I pushed further, my instincts screaming that something wasn’t right. "What about KK and the others? Why did they sign the deal?"

Her face softened for a moment, and she looked away. "KK signed in favor of chocolate-covered peanuts. It’s part of her brand. She wanted it, so she signed. It was a simple agreement." Her tone was dismissive, as if she were trying to brush off the question.

I must’ve shown my disbelief because my sister immediately noticed. Before I could say anything, she pulled me into a tight hug, her arms wrapping around me in a way that felt… insincere. "You’re overthinking this," she whispered softly, almost too softly. "I didn’t do anything wrong. Trust me. We should catch up sometime, okay?"

I pulled back, looking at her face one last time. There was something wrong with her—something I couldn’t put my finger on. But in that moment, I knew: she had lied to me.

I walked out of her office, the cold air hitting my face as I made my way down the hallway. The sound of my footsteps echoed in the silence, and all I could think was how easily she had tried to cover up her lie.

But I wasn’t convinced. KK was allergic to peanuts. The very idea that she would sign a deal to promote something that could hurt her was ridiculous. My mind raced, piecing things together. None of it made sense.

And what hurt the most? The company she was running wasn’t some shady backroom deal for quick cash (like she used to be involved in). It was meant to be for kids—a world that I always thought would mean something pure, something she could believe in. But instead, it seemed like it was just another avenue for her to get what she wanted—no matter the cost. I had to find out the truth.

"Oh sister, sister, what have you done…"

ooooooohh i wonder what's gonna happen next...SIKE only i shall know😌

This was a little treat in honor of thanksgiving but the stories are now going to start lining up with the every Tuesday thing. seeing as i already have stories stuff pending the 3rd chapter might come out 3 or two tuesdays from now.. but i am not sure it may come out earlier if i find time

hope you enjoyed darlings

- Caty writes

[viajandopelomar]

Rhys fcked over all of Prythian for one twinkle city. Tamlin fcked over all of Prythian for one person. Both‘s goal was to align with the enemy but secretly spy on them to end them. How are they different?

I guess the only thing that‘s different is that the one person trade is a bigger deal than the city trade. The fandom conveniently forgets that Tamlin was trying to find a way to end Hybern, just like Rhys tried to end Amarantha, and only focus on the fact that he traded Prythian for one person. The fandom only acknowledges the fact that Rhys saved his own, favorite city, nevermind that he caused trauma all over Prythian, 2/3 of his own court included, under Amarantha‘s command.

How different are these 2 exactly? I‘ll always laugh when I come across the „Stop comparing me to him, I‘m not him!!�� scene from Rhys, Denial is a river in Egypt…

MY FIRST ANONYMOUS MESSAGE 🥹

First of all, I think the levels at which they fucked Prythian were different. Rhysand massacred people from all courts, all of them. Massacred families. Whereas Tamlin's actions were limited to the spring, but obviously had consequences beyond the territory, and I also think it's valid to wonder how everything would have happened if Feyre hadn't implanted false memories in the sentinels and manipulated things, you know? Like, would the spring have stayed in the state it's in? Would Tamlin have been able to find out more about Hybern and the war wouldn't have seen so many losses? I think it's a valid question.

About the exchange between territory and city, Feyre and the alliance with Hybern... The people of the spring didn't seem so opposed to Tamlin's intentions. You realize that they still remained loyal, and still welcomed Feyre even when she was the reason for the alliance. Because THE WHOLE COURT WANTED FEYRE BACK, everyone thought she was under torture and abuse in the night court. Everyone welcomed her and trusted her lord, even the fairies from other lands. They all hoped that Tamlin had more behind his intentions. On the other hand, Rhysand had always been hated by everyone outside Velaris, even though he was raised and grew up in Illyria and had fought in the war with them.

Rhysand lived in the camps for around two hundred years and never, at any time, did he get anything but scorn, even though he was the crown prince. The plot never delved into this detail, but I also think it's worth thinking about.We also have the legions that Rhysand hunted down for allying themselves with Amarantha. Those males were hunted down and killed for doing the same thing as Rhysand: allying themselves with the enemy so that their family would survive. But only Rhysand is right, so he hunted and killed them all even when he knew about the war with Hybern beating his ass, and that's never mentioned again either.

Rhysand allied himself with Amarantha after she had decimated half of the excavated city, and then he went and decimated the other territories (if it had been written by another author, perhaps another lord would have allied himself with Amarantha just to destroy Rhysand. But they just kept their heads down) while Tamlin sheltered refugees and fugitives and gave them jobs. Tamlin also only sent his sentries to the human lands at their own insistence, and Rhysand claims he was annoyed that he took so long, he was also pissed that Tamlin didn't give in to Amarantha like he did.

Here's how I understood it: Rhysand was angry that Tamlin protected his own and didn't send them to their deaths, and he was angry that Tamlin didn't want to prostitute himself.

The main difference for me is that Tamlin's people trusted him and were with him until Feyre entered their minds. Rhysand confessed that he enjoyed destroying Amarantha's enemies and is still hated by his people even when he claims to have protected them (he was hated before too).

I also want to point out that in ACOSF Cassian tells Nesta that Emerie came out of a terrible UTM place (I won't remember the exact words, but he said something like that) where the lesser fairies were kept. So in the end Rhysand didn't protect them that well and it was all down to Velaris.

I use a translator called DEEPL, so apologies if anything is confusing.

[crimsononiarataki]

"Just the fact that you're tryin' to help me with that is enough for me, Myyrin. Not many people would be willin' to help me due to... well what I am,"

He was glad that she wasn't afraid of him, they'd fought side by side against the group of Kairagi who had thought of her as an easy target. He'd dealt with that group a lot, sometimes just to get their aggression out, the Oni lived near where they 'haunted', but not because of that. It just happened to be where he'd found an old Oni cabin that he wanted to fix up, so he bought the land and the cabin itself to do so. The garden he had beside it was smaller than the one back at the Gang's place, but it was still very useful to him.

Her willingness to aid him with the antihistamine, and her giving her word to give him any information she found about his clan was appreciated. Especially if she came out to learn that very few humans in Inazuma wanted him to reclaim his past. They seemed content merely having him going around not knowing where he came from. There were a few descendants of the humans that his kind had lived among before dying off that were trying to see if they could find anything, too. After all, their families had lived around the Crimson Oni of the Arataki Clan.

"I can come up with a cipher that only I can decipher. Somethin' unique to myself that nobody else will be able to figure out. While whatever it written down will make sense, there'll be somethin' I do that makes it different than normal notes."

Clearly he was thinking hard about how to go about doing something that could help him, maybe using Ishine Script mixed with newer Inazuman would be the best best. Ishine itself had survived on an island that had out of whack ley lines. If it could survive such a calamity then it could survive being written in some notebooks by him. He'd likely number the lines differently too, or use symbols to represent which needed to be deciphered, and which didn't. Shinobu would be the only other one possibly able to decipher anything, especially if he came up missing at some point. She'd be able to follow the notes, and signs that he left behind to find him.

"The only other one who'll understand anythin' I may leave behind in the off chance I come up missin' at any point, would be Shinobu. I trust her with my life. She'd know that if she found a certain symbol that I was in danger, and to get the aid a friend promised me."

Of course, if he was captured while being under the watch of the Shuumatsuban, they'd go and inform Ayato, who would then contact Shinobu to get him the help he needed. She'd likely try to get Heizou, maybe even Sara to help as well, because he was an Inazuman Native, and the last of his kind. He was protected due to that status, but some of the humans wanted to hurt him, or even try to kill him. He'd never done anything to anyone that threatened him but he was very aware that not everyone would like him that much. Which was fine. Perhaps once he learned of his heritage and his past, they'd change their tune.

"I have a few people I can contact, one of 'em I don't like really involvin' in anythin' but I know she'll be willin' to help without askin' for some sort of payment."

He was speaking of the Guuji, while they were friends, he avoided being alone around her for the most part because she liked to be mean to him simply to be mean. They didn't really hang out anymore due to him being and staying busy, and her not really leaving the Shrine. She knew his parents but hadn't told him their names because she was, in her own way, trying to see if he could recall their names without her help. He knew there was something there but he wasn't sure what.

"I have various symbols I use already, Shniobu is aware of 'em, I also know Ishine Script, which is a very old variant of what's now common Inazuman. It's archaic, but I can understand each symbol."

He understood what she meant, leave a trail only he and those he trusted implicitly could follow. Something that only those closest to him could decipher should anything happen to him. He'd not let anything happen but that was beside the point, something could still happen that was outside of his control after all.

"I could teach ya Ishine Script too, that way if you're here, ya can help should somethin' happen to me."

Myyrin smirked slightly, her tone light and teasing as she leaned back. “Don’t thank me just yet, big guy. I haven’t found anything useful, and who knows if I even will. All I’ve got for now is working on that potion to help with your bean allergies. If I get that right, then you can start showering me with gratitude.” Her teasing tone was underscored with genuine affection, though, as if to remind him that his hopes weren’t entirely misplaced.

As she watched him speak about his desire to know more, she couldn’t help but admire the way he carried himself. For someone with so much lost, Itto still managed to be brimming with hope and determination. It was a contrast to her own cynical practicality.

“Writing it all down is a good idea,” she said, her voice softening a bit. “But don’t make it too obvious. Use something that only you—or someone who truly understands you—would recognize. Maybe a code, or symbols tied to you, if you can figure those out. The ley lines…” she hesitated, eyes narrowing as if contemplating the enormity of her own words. “The ley lines are powerful, but they’re also vulnerable. If someone tampers with them, memories, history, even written records tied to them can be altered. You wouldn’t want all this work erased, would you?”

She paused, crossing her arms and staring off into the distance for a moment. “Just think of it as an extra precaution. Write your story in a way that protects it—not just from others but from time itself. That way, no matter what happens, a part of you, of your clan, will survive.” Myyrin gave him a knowing look, one that was both cautious and protective. "It’s better to leave behind a trail that only you can follow, somethin’ personal. Don’t rely on anything that can be rewritten or changed by someone else, especially if you’re already uncertain of your past."

She took a slow breath and sat back, her expression softening again. "You never know who might be watchin' or who might want to tamper with what you’re trying to uncover. Best to be prepared."

[jellyfilledeyes]

i just realized that i never made a proper goodbye post for toh so this is it but its just me rambling why luz is important to me

i feel like one of the biggest reason why luz is the best main character to me is her neurodivergence and the fact its THE biggest part of ger character being the reason why she turned to the boiling isle by choice and the reason why she’s able to connect with so many characters and the series never makes fun of her for her quirks no matter how ‘weird’ they are so often you see neurodivergent characters getting belittled due to their neurodivergent traits but the owl house doesn’t do this it just says luz does thing differently than others and thats ok and these means alot growing up i was made fun of both by other children and adults due to my autism and said there was something wrong with me due to learning differently so getting to see these traits being showed as a good thing means alot more to me than it should i also love how they don’t just let her be the sunshine character who’s never sad because she is she’s been throught alot of trauma due to peers in the human realm and things in the boiling isle(BELOS) and they let her react to these thing normally  and the fact that shes both bi and afro latina mean so much as bi  brown latine its very rare to see representation latinos that aren’t extremelly pale or slightly tan so seeing someone who not only LOOKS like me ACTS like me and even has the same sexuality as me being able to grow learn and find a girlfriend and a community who love her for herself and understand her its extremely healing to see im so used to having people like me and luz getting shoved to the sides or just simply ignored over some white straight neurotypical protagonist so to her be the head of the show means so much in short thank you dana for this series for these character and letting people like me feel seen and heard thank you owl house

[chatdae]

Grace FUMBLED Ryan! BAD parenting to preach respect and then act contrarily (ie saying she wants him to feel safe, then not allowing him any autonomy). She should've let him leave and come back... or at least explained why she didn't want him to leave before deciding (ex: 'Homelander will kidnap you', etc). She needed to let him make the decision for himself... agh. AAAAA.

And now Butcher's no use because he's committed to being evil and can't offer ANYTHING good to Ryan!!! He was so right, they NEEDED to give Ryan more space... I know the external pressures seemed impossible, but dammit, Grace, this was no way to beat the odds!

(this is about The Boys season four)

[astrids-multiverse]

i've been thinking about how marena has been told "i have never met anyone as flawed as you. even miguel tries to keep it together. but you? you can't seem to even shut up about how you feel. and you're so angry all the damn time. i don't understand how anyone can put up with you" and in that case, she couldn't even say anything bc she feared that they were right so she really just 💔 and yes. while marena is the type of person to not care about what others say about her but the moment someone says this to her, she looses her shit completely because of the fact that she's been told that she's angry for a long time, and because she still can't get over the fact that she couldn't save her own mother and feels like a horrible person even after she tries to make up for it 🙃 and to say that marena loves being angry is an understatement. she actually hates getting mad or angry and hates that about herself but marena doesn't really have a choice when it comes to emotions and her anger either comes or it doesn't and switching off her anger is not an option and she's tried to ignore, but she can't. its her against herself almost all the time, and when ppl make negative remarks abt these personality traits, she can't help but get even more mad bc they've got no idea.

[me-you-and-my-medication]

I think I have avpd. I just relate a lot to the symptoms I've found and listening to people talk about it I resonate with too

[thebigqueer]

i saw her friend today and in a way i think it really ehlped cuz she was the one who was being so kind and like 'how are you doing i know this must be hard but i still want to be friends' and it really touched me cuz iw as stressed cuz i was paranoid they were talking shit about me or smth. she also told me she was also shocked when she found out that she broke up w me so i guess it feels good knowing im not the only person kept in the dark i guess but its like if its something she couldnt even tell her friends about then what made her do it. cuz when i asekd her friend 'did she ever seem concnerd about the relationship or anything' her friend was like 'no.... not.... not really?' which idk if i fully believe but i dont think she was totally lying cuz she did seem to at least consider it. so if she wawsnt lying then i still dont understand what compelled her to dump me

[tagaloak]

thinking about lo'ak at a timeline in which he was born and raised his entire life with the omatikaya clan, in the jungles of eywa'eveng. never traveling to the eastern sea. neteyam would naturally become the next olo’eyktan. it was expected. but where did that leave lo'ak? in order to step out of his family's shadow, lo'ak would have became an exceptionally clever tactician and warrior. learned as much as he could from his father, hoping to "think" like a marine and infiltrate their mindset. a "maverick," in his own right, he had the sense not to get swept up in such propagandized teachings and only felt that it was pragmatic to "fight fire with fire". eywa'ingyentsyìp, the other warriors called him; understood as eywa's trickster. by the time he passed his rites, he was proficient in various firearms, small-unit operations & reconnaissance, knife combat, and close combat. loyal to the omatikaya and his brother's success as the clan's inevitable leader, lo'ak was outwardly humorous and easygoing, always ready with a joke or a playful trick to brighten the mood. embracing his status as the "black sheep". sometimes he could be a "bad" influence on neteyam, enticing him to shed his responsibilities in favor of hunting, racing with pa'li (direhorses) or flying their ikran. a small boon from the life they had been born into. as a warrior with the unavoidable experiences of battles against the RDA, his sense of humor can turn dark. ruthless. for this reason, eywa's trickster is known as a fearsome "blue devil" among the RDA's mercenaries. the last thing enemies heard was his loud, orotund war cries as he set fire to their militarized outposts or raided their ordinance caches. he might even laugh, primarily as a scare tactic, utilizing methods of unconventional warfare.

[neoyuno]

What if I wrote more of idol!wonwoo x producer!reader from the “no biting” universe? :o read tags for my idea ♥︎

[ziraconarose]

Thinking a lot about how she probably would have been the one person to sympathize with his motives if there had just been a conversation.

[willowfey]

.

[borderlineclown]

i so badly want to check her accounts bc i want to see how miserable she is but i know that isn't the reality

she moved on less than two months after the break up. less than two weeks after she was STILL begging me to get back together. all i would probably find is her content in her new relationship