#another one that’s been in the drafts for a little while

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles Masterlist

1. Please Let Me Live || Vil Schoenheit

You get isekai'd into the worst novel you've had the misfortune of reading because apparently your life is a cosmic joke. Now all you have to do is not act like the character you've possessed and it'll be fine, you think?

Your fiancé being Vil Schoenheit makes it a little harder to behave like a human being with functional braincells, but hey, atleast he likes you, you think?

2. Villain System vs World || Riddle Rosehearts

You have a guilty pleasure: trashy villainess stories. So when you die a frankly, humiliating death, and end up in one of the worst ones you've had the pleasure of reading as the villainess, you're in denial. Then the villain system shows up. Well, there goes your second chance at life So what do you do now? Do villainous things and cause as much chaos as you can, of course. And maybe, just maybe, bag the male lead, Riddle Rosehearts while you're at it.

3. I'd Rather Date the Male Lead's Dad || Lilia Vanrouge

When you end up in your best friend's favourite but absurd novel about breaking a fae prince's curse as the heroine, you didn't expect to get attached to his little family too. Even more unexpected? You fell for the male lead's dad, but hey it looks like he likes you too.

4. Accidentally Falling for a Fae Prince || Malleus Draconia

When you get dragged into a novel which ends with the heroine in a polycule with the most annoying men in literature, as the heroine herself, you decide that you're gonna skip town. ...Only to trip over the fae prince, Malleus Draconia.

5. Not Another Royal Mess || Azul Ashengrotto

As a proofreader who gets isekai’d into a cringeworthy novel as the villainess, you decide to take revenge on the heroine and male lead for their awful story. With Azul—who just wanted to sell you a magic rock—pulled into your chaos.

6. Love Triangles and Royal Rumbles || Leona Kingscholar

When you get isekai'd as the male lead in the novel where your favorite character, Leona Kingscholar is the second male lead, all that's left to do is rewrite the romance!

7. I Want To Retire! || Idia Shroud

You write a novel that reads like a dumpster fire and while trying to delete the draft, you accidentally get isekai’d into it.

Now, as the villainess, you have to get Idia Shroud on your side as well as survive high society. You have your work cut out for you.

8. Stealing the Plot for Drama || Jamil Viper

The book you've been looking forward to turns out to be a piece of crap, and you have the bad luck of getting pulled into it as the villainess.

So you decide to steal the main character's show, just for sport with the help of your fiancé, Jamil Viper.

9. Falling for the Sun in a Cold Empire || Kalim Al-Asim

You lose everything you've worked for after a freak accident and end up getting transported to the novel that you read when you were a teenager.

As the villainess. It's time to rebuild yourself, one step at a time with a little help from Kalim Al-Asim, your betrothed.

10. My Consort Calls Me Shrimpy || Floyd Leech

You get isekai'd into a novel where the perfect Empress got absolutely wrecked by the plot, and now you have to juggle a bland heroine, 15 weird consorts, a traitor and a delightfully unhinged eel who’s oddly good at solving your problems.

[mydearestbeloved]

Chapter 7 [Draft]

Sung Jinwoo/Trial Player!Reader

CW:

Inspired by @circeyoru ‘s “Future Power Couple”

[Masterlist🦋✨️]

It was strange. After reuniting with the system through Jinwoo, it continued to address you as "Trial Player," but something had changed. No more quests appeared, and it never responded when you tried to access your status screen. It was as if the system's more tangible functions had vanished. However, it still spoke to you— chiming in with its usual comments and banter, , but there was an undeniable distance between the system’s functionality and its conversations with you now.

You’d debated for a while whether to show Jinwoo more of your powers, especially the ones you kept hidden. This time, the system seemed to encourage it, nudging you here and there, still within the boundaries it had set, but you were the one who hesitated. Maybe it was guilt. Or maybe, it was gratitude.

Whatever the reason, you felt the need to open up.

But only if Jinwoo asked first.

---

You didn't expect to be here, in the depths of yet another C-rank dungeon, fighting alongside Sung Jinwoo and his shadow soldiers. It felt as though the system had decided to twist the narrative again. The access to C-rank dungeons, something Jinwoo originally sought by partnering with Jinho, keys of its instant dungeon version were suddenly dropped into his lap the moment you joined his party.

It was unnerving. You screamed internally whenever you thought about how the system was changing things simply because you were here. It felt like a cosmic joke, one that you couldn’t quite laugh at.

Still, you kept your composure, thankful for leveling up your <Act> skill. Otherwise, your unease might have been more obvious to Jinwoo, who was already watching you with quiet intensity. He hadn’t asked much, but his sharp eyes were always on you. Every little move, every spell you cast, every flutter of your butterflies—he didn’t miss a thing.

Today was no different, except for the massive Hydra that stood in your path.

"Of course, a Hydra," you muttered under your breath, more to yourself than anyone. You had encountered one before, in another world, in the hanging gardens. At least you knew what to do.

The Hydra roared, its heads writhing as Jinwoo leapt into action, shadows swarming around him. His movements were fast, precise, cutting through the creature with ease, but each wound healed almost instantly. Frustration began to build in his expression as the heads regenerated, one after another, no matter how many times he severed them.

You let him take the lead, silently sending out your butterflies to survey the battlefield. They fluttered around the Hydra, hovering near its wounds. You knew this creature well enough to know how it worked. Regeneration was its strongest weapon, but also its greatest weakness—if you knew how to handle it.

As the battle dragged on, Jinwoo began to notice something. The Hydra’s regeneration was slowing down. Each time a head was severed, it took just a bit longer to grow back. His eyes darted between the butterflies and you, a question forming in his mind, though now wasn’t the right time to speak it out loud.

One of the Hydra's heads lunged at Jinwoo, faster than the others. He dodged, but not quickly enough, and found himself momentarily caught in midair. Multiple heads reared up, preparing to strike from all sides.

That was your cue to step in.

Before they could reach him, the Hydra convulsed, its heads jerking back as if struck by an invisible force. Its body shuddered, and thick, black poison oozed from its open mouths. Seconds later, the massive beast collapsed in a heap.

Jinwoo landed gracefully, turning to you, his expression unreadable. “What did you do?” he asked, his voice calm but laced with curiosity.

You took a deep breath, readying yourself for the explanation. "My butterflies play a part," you began, gesturing toward the glowing creatures still flitting around the Hydra’s corpse. "They help me resonate with the target. In this case, the Hydra's regeneration was a biological process, and I used my power to disrupt it."

"How?" Jinwoo’s gaze was steady, his interest piqued.

"By speeding up its cell cycle," you explained. "Every cell has a lifespan. The faster they divide, the faster they die. I forced the Hydra’s cells to reach the end of their life faster than they could regenerate, step by step. Eventually, it couldn't recover fast enough."

Jinwoo’s eyes narrowed slightly. "And how did you kill it?"

You met his gaze, knowing this part would need a bit more explanation. "I accelerated the production of its poison. The sack that holds the venom was overproducing without increasing in size, which caused it to rupture. The poison had nowhere to go, so it began flooding its body.”

So, it drowned in its own venom.

He raised an eyebrow at that, clearly intrigued. "So, you can manipulate any biological process?"

"Not any," you admitted. "I need to know the structure of the enemy’s body first. It’s not something I can do blindly."

Jinwoo seemed to consider your words for a moment before asking, "Have you fought a Hydra before?"

You hesitated, careful not to reveal too much. The system chimed in at the back of your mind, warning you not to stray too far from what was allowed. "Yes," you said carefully. "Once. In another dungeon."

There was a brief silence as Jinwoo processed that information. His expression remained neutral, but you could see the gears turning in his mind. He wanted to know more, that much was clear, but he didn’t push further. Instead, he simply nodded. "I see."

You were grateful for the system’s guidance, keeping you from saying too much. Still, Jinwoo’s silence unnerved you. He was always calm, always composed, but you couldn’t help but wonder what he was truly thinking.

He didn’t say anything else as the two of you made your way out of the dungeon. His face gave nothing away, but you knew this was far from over. The more you revealed, the more questions he would have.

And yet, as unnerving as it was, you found a strange comfort in his curiosity. Maybe, just maybe, it was nice to finally have someone who wanted to understand you.

---

Jinwoo had always been observant, and it didn’t take long for him to start piecing things together about you and your butterflies. He didn’t pry too much at first, but you could tell he was forming his own conclusions.

The butterflies were more than they seemed. It was obvious to him that they were some sort of summons, which meant you weren’t just a healer—you had to be a mage as well. A hybrid. Something rare, if not completely unheard of. But then again, he himself was an anomaly in the world of hunters, so perhaps it wasn’t too surprising that you were too.

Still, there were aspects of your abilities he couldn’t quite figure out, and after a few raids together, he finally asked.

It was during a break between fights, his shadow soldiers standing idle while your butterflies fluttered around them. Jinwoo watched, his gaze following their movements carefully before he finally spoke up.

“What exactly do they do?” he asked, his voice steady. “Your butterflies.”

You weren’t surprised by the question. You knew it was coming sooner or later. As always, you waited for him to ask before you explained anything. You turned toward him, meeting his eyes before giving your answer.

“They work on the basis of ‘life,’” you said slowly, trying to explain it in terms he could understand. “Not just mana. Life is a distinct force, and my butterflies draw from that. When they surround an enemy, they drain that life force, weakening them. That energy is then transferred to our allies—in this case, your shadow soldiers—in the form of boosts and heals.”

Jinwoo’s eyes narrowed slightly. “So they drain life even from the dead?”

You nodded. “To an extent. Freshly killed enemies still emit some life force, but it’s limited. The real power comes from living targets.”

He took in that information, but you could tell it wasn’t the whole of his curiosity. After a moment, he asked again, “And the confusion they cause?”

“They emit a type of energy that wraps around the enemies’ minds,” you explained. “It creates illusions, distorts their senses, making them easier to take down. The draining of their life force makes this easier, weakens their resistance. But the stronger the enemy, the harder it is to affect them.”

Jinwoo processed that with a calm nod, but his gaze flickered toward his shadow soldiers, who were still surrounded by your butterflies. His expression shifted slightly, a protective tension in his stance as he asked his next question.

“They’ve been near my soldiers a lot,” he said, his voice tighter now. “What are they doing when there are no enemies around?”

You understood his concern immediately. You were protective of your butterflies, just as he was protective of his shadows. The two forces had been interacting closely during battles, and it made sense for him to be more cautious now that he knew what your children were capable off.

“They’re not draining anything from your soldiers,” you assured him. “They’re sentient enough to know the difference between allies and enemies. They won’t harm your shadows. In fact…” you hesitated for a moment, glancing at the red child that hovered near Igris. “I think they’re drawn to them.”

“Drawn to them?” Jinwoo’s brows furrowed slightly.

“I’m still trying to figure it out myself,” you admitted. “But I think it’s the nature of your shadows. They’re not exactly alive, but there’s a strange energy there. My butterflies seem… curious. They like being near them, but they won’t harm them. I promise.”

Jinwoo’s expression didn’t change much, but you noticed a slight shift in his posture. He seemed less tense, less guarded, though he was still processing everything you’d told him.

“They obey you?” he asked, his tone softer now.

“Completely,” you said firmly. “They’re my creations. They won’t act against my will.”

He seemed to accept that, though you could tell he was still intrigued, still trying to wrap his head around the mechanics of your power. He gave a small nod, his eyes returning to the butterflies as they fluttered peacefully around his shadows.

As ever, Jinwoo’s face didn’t reveal much, but you could sense the subtle easing of tension between the two of you. He was still fascinated by you—perhaps even more so now—but for the moment, at least, he seemed reassured.

The partnership continued, and while his questions weren’t over, you couldn’t help but feel that, little by little, you were gaining Jinwoo’s trust.

---

The battle with the giant had been exhausting, dragging on far longer than either of you expected. Despite Jinwoo’s overwhelming strength and the power of his shadows, the sheer size and resilience of the giant made every blow feel like a drop in an ocean. The creature’s endurance was staggering, each wound seemingly insignificant compared to its massive frame.

Jinwoo pressed on, keeping the pressure on the giant. His shadows flanked it, landing blow after blow, but it wasn’t enough to break through. You observed for a while, assessing the situation, and then you stepped in.

You raised your hands, eyes narrowing as you focused on the giant's movements, its wounds, and the slowing rhythm of its defenses. You channeled your energy into casting the spell, watching as the giant’s already open wounds began to fester, the flesh darkening as your magic took effect.

After the giant collapsed, Jinwoo turned to you, his eyes sharp, the question already forming on his lips. You knew it was coming, just as you always did.

“Why didn’t you do that from the start?” he asked, his tone steady but laced with curiosity.

You took a moment before answering, gathering your thoughts. “I did, technically. It’s just... it’s more complicated than the hydra.” You gestured to the fallen giant, still smoldering from the effects of your spell. “Generally, decay in organic matter of the livings involves a lot more processes than just cellular breakdown. Different creatures have different weaknesses.”

Jinwoo’s eyes narrowed in understanding, but you could tell he wanted more details. You obliged.

“With the hydra, I was blocking its regeneration—a single process. That was straightforward. But this?” You gestured to the giant again. “Giants have no particularly enhanced regeneration, but there are no weak points like a poison sac I can exploit. The problem is their endurance.”

You paused, trying to put the mechanics of your magic into terms Jinwoo would understand. “In this case, I have to target several things at once. Disrupting healing signals, accelerating metabolic waste production to cause toxin buildup—it’s all about overwhelming the giant’s natural endurance. And that takes a lot of energy, and more importantly, time.”

Jinwoo’s gaze flicked between you and the fallen giant, his expression unreadable, but his attention was unwavering.

“I also have to know how the creature’s body works,” you continued, “which is why it’s easier with creatures that are similar to humans. A giant’s body isn’t too different from ours—just bigger and tougher. But that also means I need more mana to make the spell effective.”

You had a passing thought, realizing you would need to study more on the anatomy of different creatures to fine-tune your magic in the future. There were a few books you'd picked up from the system’s shop during your trial phase, those were looking more useful by the second. And if perchance they didn’t, you were sure there would be some references in the Garden’s library.

As you were lost in thought, you spoke absentmindedly, “Having you here made it easier, though.”

Jinwoo raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

You blinked, realizing you’d voiced your thoughts aloud. “I need time and a lot of focus to cast <Decay>. Your attacks created the openings I needed and you also kept the giant from attacking me. Without them, I wouldn’t have been able to make the spell work as quickly.”

For a moment, Jinwoo’s face remained impassive, as it usually did, but then, unexpectedly, he let out a soft laugh. It wasn’t mocking, but it caught you off guard nonetheless.

“What’s funny?” you asked, unable to hide your curiosity.

His laughter faded, and his expression returned to its neutral state, but there was a slight shift in his demeanor, something lighter, more relaxed. He shook his head, as if dismissing the thought.

“Nothing,” he said, his voice calm but with a trace of amusement. “Just… interesting.”

That word lingered in the air, and it reminded you of the first time you had officially met him—how he had regarded you then, intrigued but cautious. Now, even with his suspicions, there was a familiarity between you, a shared understanding that went beyond just combat.

You didn’t know if his reaction was a good omen or not, but at this point, you figured you’d find out soon enough.

---

The battle with the rock golemn was dragging on longer than expected. Jinwoo had fought golemns before, and you both knew he could take this one down in an instant. But instead, he seemed to be toying with it, almost as if he were waiting for something.

You watched his movements carefully and sighed inwardly. He should’ve just asked.

Extending your hand, you focused on the golemn’s surface. "<Erosion>," you muttered, watching the cracks running along its stone form deepened, spreading as the rock began to crumble. It didn’t explode dramatically, didn’t shatter in an instant, but it got the job done.

It weathered, as if time itself had fast-forwarded. The rock golemn’s sturdy form slowly disintegrate before your eyes. Dust, pebbles, and debris collapsed onto the ground, leaving nothing but remnants of what had once been a towering figure.

Jinwoo approached, his expression as unreadable as ever, but you knew what was coming. By now, it had become a routine—he fought, you intervened, and then came the questions.

This time, however, you didn’t wait for him to ask first. "You were waiting for me." you stated flatly, meeting his gaze.

Jinwoo didn’t deny it. He nodded once, silently asking you to explain further.

You sighed and began, "Erosion is different from the other spells I’ve used. It’s all about weakening the bonds between molecules. I accelerate corrosion, cracks, and disintegration. But with inorganic material like stone, it’s not as straightforward as organic decay."

Jinwoo listened intently, his gaze never leaving you.

"I rely heavily on ‘time’ for this spell," you continued. "It’s more mana-intensive than my healing spells. Organic matter, like living beings, have biological systems that heal themselves naturally. So when I cast decay, I’m just accelerating those processes—making sure the wounds break down faster than they can heal. But inorganic matter? Rocks? They don’t regenerate. So I’m essentially reversing that process, speeding up their destruction."

Jinwoo tilted his head slightly. "And that’s why it takes longer."

"Exactly," you confirmed. "Decay works from the inside out, disrupting life processes. But erosion works from the outside in. Normally, erosion is caused by elements like water, air, or heat, so it takes a lot more time—and mana—to break down something solid like a golemn."

You glanced at the spot where the golemn once stood. “It’s a good thing these golemns are still tied to life force, make it easier to weaken them.”

You sighed again. "To be honest, <Erosion> is a pain in the ass to use. I could’ve just blasted the thing apart with elemental magic."

Jinwoo raised an eyebrow at that. "Then why didn’t you?"

You hesitated. "It’s... not fair of me."

Jinwoo’s expression remained neutral, but his curiosity was palpable. "What do you mean?"

You mumbled, more to yourself than to him, "It wouldn’t be fair... to you."

Jinwoo blinked, taken aback. "What?"

Your lips pressed into a thin line. Your heart felt heavy, unsure if you should continue, but the words slipped out anyway. Perhaps it was guilt, lingering from the fact that you knew Jinwoo, his story, his world—everything—while he barely knew you. His suspicions were understandable. Or perhaps, it was gratitude. Gratitude for his presence, for making this familiar yet unfamiliar world feel a little less isolating. Despite the fact that you were unsure why he kept you around—be it suspicion or something else—he was trying to understand you.

"Look," you started, trying to gather your thoughts, "this spell… it's tricky. It’s not my most effective move, not by a long shot. But you wanted to see what I was capable of, didn’t you?"

Jinwoo’s eyes narrowed slightly. He wasn’t following, not yet.

You pressed on, speaking more clearly. "I'm showing you the limits of my powers. My weaknesses. I already struggle with living beings made from inorganic materials. Things like... the undead, they’re not easy for me to handle."

The words hung in the air between you. It was a risk, revealing something so vulnerable to someone like Jinwoo, who was always several steps ahead. He was the type to observe, analyze, and act with precision. And now you’d given him something that could be used against you.

Jinwoo’s silence was telling, his mind clearly processing your words. Then, in that moment, something seemed to click for him. He might not understand the full scope of your situation—how could he, when your existence was tied to something far beyond this world? But he recognized what you were doing.

You were offering him trust.

A sign of vulnerability, one that Jinwoo quietly acknowledged. His gaze softened, but his expression didn’t shift enough for you to fully read him.

Your thoughts spiraled, berating yourself. Why did you show him that? Years of surviving alone had isolated you. ‘Don’t trust others so easily’ was a bit different between you and him. Jinwoo was still, in many ways, a stranger. Yet, here you were, offering him something fragile—a piece of yourself that he could very well use however he pleased.

But it was too late now.

You stood there, still silently chastising yourself, while Jinwoo turned to the dust of the fallen golemn. He didn’t say anything, but you knew he had understood. Even if you both remained distant, even if you weren’t sure if you could call each other friends, there was now something in that previously empty space between you.

You just had to live with it.

End Note:

Unedited Draft of [018/10/2024] - Trust

I'm sorry if the developments seems a bit fast-paced or sudden, considering this is also still a draft. I just want to let all these drafts out before I went MIA again for a few months. College life is hella hectic. T-T

[mrsensitive]

you’re tying my necklace as i look into a mirror and woah, have you always looked that hot? you’re behind me and your breath’s warm on my neck and i can't—

update: I kinda used this as part of a longer 4+1 which you can read here if you’re curious 🤭

this is so mutual pining like quinn taking you as a date to a gala or whatever bc why not all the other guys have a date and he doesn't want to be the only one alone that night and you're basically inseparable anyway... you have your nails done and you cant seem to clasp your necklace together so you ask him to do it for you before you go and at first you're looking at the pendant and being happy with how you've cleaned up when you look at him in the mirror and oh wow he cleans up even nicer - which you didn't think would be a thought that would cross your mind considering seeing him in a suit is not a rare occasion at all but something about how his hair has grown out and the light stubble and the tie and the watch and the light waft of cologne and his focus on the back of your neck and suddenly you're aware of how close you're standing and remembering all the times you questioned if this might've been or could still be more than just a friendship and your breath is caught in your throat and youre kind of frozen in place still holding your hair up even after he’s mumbled, “there” - which he could barely even get past the lump in his throat because he’s thinking all the same things about how unreal you look and fighting everything in him thats telling him to wrap his arms around your waist and plant a soft kiss on your exposed shoulder and just play pretend for a second... his gaze is still locked on the clasp at the nape of your neck and you manage to catch a glimpse of something cross his face that you cant really decipher until you’re both snapped out of it by a phone going off - one of the guys calling him to ask about a tie or when you’re arriving or something like that so you’re both trying not to think too much of that little moment... but through the night you’re just having a good time enjoying the drinks and the company and falling into a very comfortable and natural pace with each other - to an outside eye you two would seem just like any of the other couples and maybe its the soft touches on his arm or your back or the stealing glances and smiles across the room or the dancing to your favourite song - but something is finally clicking for you both separately when one of the guys asks quinn “when are you finally going to do something about it buddy?” and he’s confused at first but then he realises he had to rip his gaze off you to even ask what they meant and for you its one of the wives telling you how stunning you look, “I’ve been waiting for you to join us at one of these, im glad he finally made a move” and you’re stuttering to explain he didn't, not like that at least, to which they ask “well... would you have wanted him to?” with a raised eyebrow and knowing look - and both of you while across the room from each other finally realise how obvious it’s been and how screwed you are

[duskerot]

i got SO inspired by this beautiful photo by Ron Frazier so i decided to paint it !! and then throw some guys on there cuz of course

u can look below the cut if you want to see the painting without the characters !!

MY PAINTING !! this was so fun fr i love painting light <3 might go ahead and post this separately but for now you must look at these ocs ok?

[sysig]

Challenge level: Impossible (Patreon)

[secondpersonpoetry]

you’ve probably already read it before, but the poem Party by Kim Addonizio really got me tonight. first thought was “oh man. yeah” and then my second thought was “how can i make this about my hockey guys somehow………..”anyway! have a good one! 

oh. oh.

​

[some-pers0n]

I love when a lot of my mutuals are really talented artists cause they'll post their art and I can go: "YIPPEEE YAYAYYYYY!!! FRIEND POSTED PRETTY ART!!"

[kaidabakugou]

my brain needs a break from working on three different collab pieces so i decided to pick back up my hellhounds kiribaku fic but i’m horrible with titles so help me decide

a little context on the fic - it is set in a world where chthonic creatures roam freely on earth and your job is to rescue the ones used in illegal activities which is how you meet two hellhounds but first you must earn their trust before you can save them after years of mistreatment

[0tul1ss]

.

[dragqueenpentheus]

oh baby it was a night im grateful i keep a writing compliments folder around

[jichanxo]

can someone else write senseific for me instead? this is too hard :( /jk

[reasonsforhope]

No paywall version here.

"Two and a half years ago, when I was asked to help write the most authoritative report on climate change in the United States, I hesitated...

In the end, I said yes, but reluctantly. Frankly, I was sick of admonishing people about how bad things could get. Scientists have raised the alarm over and over again, and still the temperature rises. Extreme events like heat waves, floods and droughts are becoming more severe and frequent, exactly as we predicted they would. We were proved right. It didn’t seem to matter.

Our report, which was released on Tuesday, contains more dire warnings. There are plenty of new reasons for despair. Thanks to recent scientific advances, we can now link climate change to specific extreme weather disasters, and we have a better understanding of how the feedback loops in the climate system can make warming even worse. We can also now more confidently forecast catastrophic outcomes if global emissions continue on their current trajectory.

But to me, the most surprising new finding in the Fifth National Climate Assessment is this: There has been genuine progress, too.

I’m used to mind-boggling numbers, and there are many of them in this report. Human beings have put about 1.6 trillion tons of carbon in the atmosphere since the Industrial Revolution — more than the weight of every living thing on Earth combined. But as we wrote the report, I learned other, even more mind-boggling numbers. In the last decade, the cost of wind energy has declined by 70 percent and solar has declined 90 percent. Renewables now make up 80 percent of new electricity generation capacity. Our country’s greenhouse gas emissions are falling, even as our G.D.P. and population grow.

In the report, we were tasked with projecting future climate change. We showed what the United States would look like if the world warms by 2 degrees Celsius. It wasn’t a pretty picture: more heat waves, more uncomfortably hot nights, more downpours, more droughts. If greenhouse emissions continue to rise, we could reach that point in the next couple of decades. If they fall a little, maybe we can stave it off until the middle of the century. But our findings also offered a glimmer of hope: If emissions fall dramatically, as the report suggested they could, we may never reach 2 degrees Celsius at all.

For the first time in my career, I felt something strange: optimism.

And that simple realization was enough to convince me that releasing yet another climate report was worthwhile.

Something has changed in the United States, and not just the climate. State, local and tribal governments all around the country have begun to take action. Some politicians now actually campaign on climate change, instead of ignoring or lying about it. Congress passed federal climate legislation — something I’d long regarded as impossible — in 2022 as we turned in the first draft.

[Note: She's talking about the Inflation Reduction Act and the Infrastructure Act, which despite the names were the two biggest climate packages passed in US history. And their passage in mid 2022 was a big turning point: that's when, for the first time in decades, a lot of scientists started looking at the numbers - esp the ones that would come from the IRA's funding - and said "Wait, holy shit, we have an actual chance."]

And while the report stresses the urgency of limiting warming to prevent terrible risks, it has a new message, too: We can do this. We now know how to make the dramatic emissions cuts we’d need to limit warming, and it’s very possible to do this in a way that’s sustainable, healthy and fair.

The conversation has moved on, and the role of scientists has changed. We’re not just warning of danger anymore. We’re showing the way to safety.

I was wrong about those previous reports: They did matter, after all. While climate scientists were warning the world of disaster, a small army of scientists, engineers, policymakers and others were getting to work. These first responders have helped move us toward our climate goals. Our warnings did their job.

To limit global warming, we need many more people to get on board... We need to reach those who haven’t yet been moved by our warnings. I’m not talking about the fossil fuel industry here; nor do I particularly care about winning over the small but noisy group of committed climate deniers. But I believe we can reach the many people whose eyes glaze over when they hear yet another dire warning or see another report like the one we just published.

The reason is that now, we have a better story to tell. The evidence is clear: Responding to climate change will not only create a better world for our children and grandchildren, but it will also make the world better for us right now.

Eliminating the sources of greenhouse gas emissions will make our air and water cleaner, our economy stronger and our quality of life better. It could save hundreds of thousands or even millions of lives across the country through air quality benefits alone. Using land more wisely can both limit climate change and protect biodiversity. Climate change most strongly affects communities that get a raw deal in our society: people with low incomes, people of color, children and the elderly. And climate action can be an opportunity to redress legacies of racism, neglect and injustice.

I could still tell you scary stories about a future ravaged by climate change, and they’d be true, at least on the trajectory we’re currently on. But it’s also true that we have a once-in-human-history chance not only to prevent the worst effects but also to make the world better right now. It would be a shame to squander this opportunity. So I don’t just want to talk about the problems anymore. I want to talk about the solutions. Consider this your last warning from me."

-via New York Times. Opinion essay by leading climate scientist Kate Marvel. November 18, 2023.

[nereidprinc3ss]

be my angel

in which BAU fem!reader was injured on the job, but is refusing painkillers at the hospital. spencer thinks he knows why.

fluff (+a little angst) warnings/tags: established relationship, hospital stuff, reader got beat up by an unsub, discussions of spencer's past addiction, mentions of period cramps, reader ends up being administered some sort of painkiller a/n: another draft i found in my literal hundreds of pages of abandoned wips and fixed up cause it's cute, I hope you like!!!

Spencer is tearing through the hospital. They all keep saying you’re going to be okay, but what does that even mean? Why is nobody telling him anything? He’s not even sure he heard what the orderly at the front desk said, but his feet are carrying him with a strident purpose through the winding white halls, so he has to assume he at least subconsciously knows where he’s going. 

Finally he spots Penelope, a beacon in her candy-colored clothing, speaking to a doctor in hushed tones. Penelope sees him approaching and turns away from the doctor, looking harried and exhausted. 

“Is she okay? What happened?” Spencer demands, before either of the others can say a word. 

“She’s okay,” the doctor assures. “She was beat up pretty bad—concussion, broken ribs, some bruising that looks worse than it is. There was a clean shot through her arm, but—” 

His blood runs cold. Nobody told him you were shot. Why had nobody told him you were shot? 

“I need to see her.” 

The doctor frowns, glancing between the two agents. 

“I’m sorry, are you her spouse?” 

“Yes. No, not yet, I just—I need to see her, please. Now.” 

“Sir, unless she—” 

“Just let him see her!” Penelope practically yells. “She wants him here, believe me.”  

The doctor clenches her jaw and scribbles something on her clipboard. 

“Okay. Maybe you can try to convince her to accept some painkillers.” 

Spencer’s frown deepens. 

“She’s refusing pain management?” 

“We gave her as much ibuprofen as we could, but she refused anything stronger than that. She has to be in a lot of pain right now, and there’s no background of addiction.” 

“I’ll talk to her,” Spencer says, already twisting the silver door handle. He has a sneaking suspicion as to why you denied pain treatment, and it makes him feel incredibly guilty. More than he already did, after this entire debacle. 

The sight of you, bloodied and bruised and obviously suffering has his heart splintering right down the middle. Whatever meager semblance of a smile he can scrounge up and offer is reflected back to him on you—which only makes him feel worse. As always, you’re putting on a brave face. 

“Hey,” Spencer says quietly as he closes the door behind him. 

“Hi,” you croak. “How do I look?” 

He approaches, sitting on the edge of the bed and pushing your hair away from your face. 

“How do you feel? The doctor told me you wouldn’t accept pain medication,” he murmurs. 

You sniff. 

“I feel okay. Did she tell you it’s not as bad as it looks?” 

But your voice is so small, so wavery and weak, that he knows you’re lying. 

“Sweetheart...” 

You’ve been holding it together since the unsub beat you nearly unconscious. You held it together as he ran away, even got a couple shots in before he turned around and returned fire. You held it together while you sat against the dirty truck, bleeding out, not sure if your team was coming, and you held it together in the ambulance, and for the past thirty minutes in this hospital bed. But all it takes is one gentle word from Spencer, with that concerned, solicitous look in his eye, and the floodgates are opening. Tears spring up in your eyes and begin silently falling down your dirtied cheeks. 

“It’s okay!” you attempt to reassure him, affecting cheeriness even through the tears. “It doesn’t hurt. I’m fine!” 

He says your name soft and low and he tries his best to keep his tone even though he is liable to burst into tears or start yelling at someone (not you) at any minute.  

“I know that’s not true. You have broken ribs and a gunshot wound. I know how badly it hurts to breathe and how it feels every time you move your arm. That is too much damage for over-the-counter anti-inflammatories. You need real analgesics.” 

“I don’t,” you whisper. Your teary eyes make his whole body ache. He squeezes your hand—the one that’s not connected to the wounded arm. 

“Because of me?” You stare at him blankly, as if you’re shocked he was able to put two and two together. “I promise you don’t need to worry about that.” 

You sniffle. 

“But what if—what if they give me the drugs and I get all weird and it’s, it’s like... triggering for you, or something?” 

“It’s been a really long time since I’ve worried about that. I’d rather see you a little tired and out of it than in extreme pain and trying to pretend you’re not. You getting the pain relief you need in a medical emergency is not going to make me relapse.” 

“But I really think I could go without,” you begin, voice already tightening around a cry. “I’ve—I’ve had period cramps that were worse than this.” 

Despite himself, he chuckles. Goes back to stroking your hair. 

The laughter fades quickly. All the pain you’re in is so evident in your eyes. The dissociative glassiness, the tension around them, the bloodshot quality—he's seen it many times before, and he hates it on you. 

“Will you please tell them you’re ready to take something? They won’t give you Dilaudid. It’s too strong. They’ll give you something that I’d have no interest in anyway.” 

“Not funny,” you whisper. 

He ignores this. 

“Will you let me call the doctor back in?” 

You take a deep, shuddering breath—or at least, you try to, before you’re loosing a sharp squeak that deteriorates into a little sob. The ribs. 

Spencer doesn’t bother asking again, just gets up and begins to walk away as efficiently as his legs will carry him. You need painkillers and he thinks it might be fastest to just fetch the doctor or a nurse from the hallway. 

“Wait,” you plead.  

He stops. Reminds himself that you need him right now—not his medical opinions. Spencer turns back around and approaches again, crouching by your bedside this time. 

“What, honey?” 

“I don’t...” 

You trail off, overcome by something like fear in the width and shine and nervous dart of your eyes. Spencer knows, everybody at the BAU knows, that showing fear to a serial killer will get you killed that much quicker. During your time alone with the unsub, which is a can of worms Spencer literally cannot psychologically open right now, you had to put on your bravest face. Even while you were being beaten within an inch of your life. Even when you thought you were going to die, alone, and that your team—that Spencer—wasn't coming back for you. Because that’s the kind of thing you have to do to cope when you’re at rock bottom. But you were terrified. Petrified. That doesn’t just go away—and Spencer knows it’ll be bumping against the surface until it finds a way out.  

He has to remember that just because you look unafraid and you act unafraid doesn’t mean you aren’t. 

“You were so brave,” he manages after he’s sure he can say it without incident, swiping moisture from your cheek. “You did everything exactly right.” 

“I know,” you whisper, chin trembling. Spencer knows you, and he knows this kind of trauma well enough to know that you’re thinking, I did everything exactly right, and it wasn’t enough. I did everything exactly right and this is what I have to show for it. 

“But nobody needs you to act like it wasn’t hard, okay? You don’t need to pretend like it doesn’t hurt. You were so, so brave, angel. You don’t have to be brave anymore.” 

Your eyes squeeze shut, sending a new wash of tears over your tacky cheeks. A few moments pass. You say nothing. He hopes you’re not going to hide away inside yourself like he did. 

“Will you please, please, let me get the doctor?” 

At least this time you don’t immediately say no. 

“Will you come right back?” 

“Of course.” 

Finally, you nod your hesitant assent, and Spencer presses a careful kiss to your forehead. 

A few minutes later, the doctor—who was shocked that Spencer was able to so quickly change your very made-up mind—is back, and so is Spencer. It only takes a moment for them to determine the best course of action for you and soon the fist around his heart is loosening its grip as he watches some of the agony melting from your eyes. 

“Better?” he murmurs as the nurse who’d administered the drugs leaves, fanning his thumb over the underside of your wrist. You nod, already appearing sleepy. 

“Can you lie down with me?” 

He smiles at the way your words slip against each other, simply relieved that you’re able to relax and no longer in extreme pain. 

“Hospital beds aren’t rated for two people.” 

“Spencer.” 

It’s enough for him to climb onto the bed—not that he was ever going to deny you what you wanted to begin with. The fit isn’t exactly perfect—he's a bit too long and combined the two of you are just slightly too wide—but with some finagling it’s comfortable enough. Spencer has slipped his arm underneath you and your head is on his shoulder and he’s so glad to have you in his arms and so grateful that you’re okay he does something almost like praying in his head as he kisses your hair. 

“Hey. Ask me about my bruises.” 

“Why? Do they still hurt?” 

“You should see the other guy.” 

It’s dumb and it doesn’t make sense because you didn’t bother waiting for him to actually set the joke up—but he smiles dryly nonetheless. 

“Can you please give me... I don’t know, 36 hours before you start making jokes about almost dying?” 

“Clock starts now.” 

“Thank you.” He feels your lips curve into a half-conscious smile against his neck. It’s a wonderful feeling. “How are your ribs? Breathing feels okay?” 

“Mhm. Love breathing.” 

“Mhm. And your arm?” 

“Like I got shot.” 

“Well, that’s pretty much unavoidable. But not as bad as before, right?” 

“Right. Spencer?” 

“What, my love?” 

A little pleased puff of air warms his shoulder. He carefully rubs your hip. 

“Will you tell me how brave I was again?” 

He takes a silent, very deep breath.  

“You were incredibly brave. And smart, too. I’m really proud of you for how you handled that situation. I’m so sorry you had to go through that, but I don’t think anyone could have handled it better. Especially when you chose to stay put by the truck, instead of chase him. I know that wasn’t what you wanted to do, but it was the right choice.” 

“I thought you guys maybe weren’t coming,” you murmur, no hint of sadness in your smushed, flat voice—like you’re barely awake. “I waited half an hour and I thought you weren’t gonna find me.” 

“Angel, I will always find you. We didn’t stop looking even once, as soon as we noticed you were gone. I’m just sorry I wasn’t with Emily and Rossi when they got to you.” 

“’Nelope told me... she told me you got really angry and scary.” 

He stares at the ceiling and considers this. 

“I could see... how what I was feeling would be interpreted that way. I was pretty angry. But not at Penelope or any of them. I was mostly just scared.” 

“I’m sorry I scared you,” you whisper. “And I’m sorry if I made you mad.” 

“You did not. I wasn’t mad at you. And it’s not your fault that I got scared. You were just trying to do your job. None of this is your fault.” 

“She also said that you said fuck like... three times.” 

“Mm... doesn’t sound like me,” he evades. You giggle, and the sound is more a relief than any drug he could take.

“No, seriously, I’m so mad I missed it. I love hearing you swear. Tell me what you said—and you have to cause I’m all messed up so I get whatever I want.” 

He sighs in mock annoyance. 

“Well, she’s wrong. I only said fuck once. I used fucking as an intensifier twice.” 

You hum. 

“Sexy.” 

“Alright,” Spencer laughs, flushing as he moves his hand to your shoulder. “Go to sleep before I tell them to up your dosage, weirdo.” 

[feyburner]

I ??? woke up at 3am with this scene fully written in my mind palace and quickly jotted it down in the Notes app

*

Clark’s shaking his head before he realizes he’s doing it, and feels a twinge of embarrassment at his own bad manners when Bruce stops mid-word to look at him, brows raised.

“No?” he says.

“No,” Clark says, again without thinking, and again with the reflexive urge to apologize. Somewhere his mother is tutting without knowing why. But he doesn’t apologize, because he’s already saying, “No, it can’t—it can’t be that.”

“Okay,” Bruce says slowly. “Can you elaborate?”

He is, honestly, having trouble taking his eyes off the screen. The mockup design of his new suit is there, dark and sleek, ridged like tactical gear. The blue is like the last shade of evening before you can’t call it evening anymore, the color of nine PM in Kansas in July, so exact there’s a strong chance Bruce color-picked it from a photo. The yellow accents are the cool fluorescent yellow-green of lightning bugs. The red is dark as arterial blood. Every aspect of the suit has been updated—the colors deeper, the angles sharper, the S extending to the corners of its frame—but Bruce has done it without changing the fundamentals. It’s immediately recognizable as the Superman suit, just… well, a little cooler, maybe. A little more of the times. Even the tailoring is modernized. The neckline. The shape of the boots. Where the belt hits at the waist. Clark can tell just by looking that Bruce has not only spent a lot of time on this in general, he’s spent a lot of time designing it specifically with Clark in mind, Clark’s needs and preferences and the small discomforts of his current suit, things he might have mentioned offhand after a mission but never with the assumption that Bruce was listening or filing it away. No doubt the next slides of this presentation will detail all the hidden features of the new suit, and they’ll all be incredibly thoughtful if not slightly overkill, and Bruce will pretend his sole motive here was practicality and risk reduction and respond to any thanks with a curt nod.

And Clark wants to thank him. He will. It’s just.

“It can’t be… cool,” he says, inane. Bruce is watching him with that steady look that used to feel clinical, piercing, and now mostly reads as attentive. “It can’t be—like yours. Tactical, military-grade.”

“Lightyears beyond, actually.”

“It has to—Ma said once, a kid should be able to draw it with crayons. You know? I can’t look like a weapon. I have to—I want to look like a friend.”

He can feel himself flushing. It’s rare that he speaks like this, and rarer still that he does so while being stared at intently. Bruce may think of himself as the darkness, but his gaze is a spotlight: unwavering and revealing and more a little sweat-inducing, for one reason or another.

“Sometimes, when I show up, people laugh,” Clark says. “If it’s somewhere out of the way, where they haven’t seen me before. I show up and I look like a festival performer. It’ll be the worst day of their lives, and they’ve got no reason to trust my face, but when they see what I’m wearing—it goes from ‘Who are you?’ to ‘Who is this guy?’ And that’s a good thing.”

“Hard to be afraid of a man dressed in primary colors,” Bruce says, almost to himself.

“Exactly.”

“I see. Thank you,” he says, “for explaining.”

Clark tries not to show how surprised he is to hear that. Judging by the crook of Bruce’s mouth, his success is negligible. “Of course. Sorry I didn’t—I mean, thank you, obviously, for going to such trouble. I didn’t mean to come in here and—I really do appreciate it, I can tell you put a lot of work in—”

Bruce’s eyes cut away. “No. No need. I didn’t ask, before I…. It was only a first draft. If you’re amenable, I’ll incorporate your feedback into the second one.”

“Oh! Yeah. Yes, of course, but you really don’t have to—”

“If you have any further notes, I would like to hear them.”

There’s something determined in the lines of his face. Clark has the sense that this moment is important, that it’s a turning point, even if he’s not sure why. It feels like striking out into a sea of ice, a blank white expanse under which something precious and vital is hidden, has been hidden all along, just waiting for him to find it. To want to.

“Sure,” he says. He looks back at the suit and swallows, and knows Bruce will see the flicker of his throat and take some meaning from it, and wishes he knew what the meaning was. Or maybe Bruce won’t notice or read into it at all. Maybe Clark needs to calm down, in fact. “Um. I don’t want to assume, but does it… do things?”

“It does things,” Bruce confirms, after the barest pause. “Let me show you the next slide.”

[mondaymelon]

₊⊹ 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒 ♡. | genshin!various x gn!reader

「 "𝐚𝐡, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐩…"」

— in which you kiss him ... accidentally, and indirectly.

𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 — kazuha, gaming, FREMINET, THOMA, KAVEH, chongyun, gorou

— "Ah, wrong cup."

It's a warm morning, yet the shade of the light canopy of trees provides ample comfort. At your words, however, the amicable conversation halts. Gingerly, you place his cup back on its saucer, uttering a quiet apology. "Sorry, sorry..."

Ugh, a quiet moment with someone you'd been pining after for ages, and you likely just sabotaged any chance you had. Making someone uncomfortable is surely not a way to have someone fall head over heels for you. You cautiously glanced upwards, catching the sight of... something you didn't expect...!?

He hid in his hand, raised and flush against his face. It was rather insufficient in the whole "hiding" department, however, for you could still clearly see the fluster on his features and the red cast across the tips of his ears. Just above the cover of his fingers were his eyes, hurriedly averted from yours. His mouth was slightly ajar, but in the moments that passed, his lips moved to form whispers you couldn't quite catch.

You stood, frantic. Really, every one of your plans was going awry. "I'm sorry! I, I'll go get you a new cup-"

"He caught his hand in his before you could fully depart, clutching it tightly. His usually cool skin was warm. "N, No, I- It's fine..."

He watched your face brighten with relief as you sat back down, completely cheery again, and released a breath quietly.

Ah, how was he supposed to tell you that the mere sight of your lips touching where he had put his made his heart skip a beat?

— It simply wasn't fair.

𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 — HEIZOU, KAEYA, CHILDE, venti, ayato, LYNEY

— "Wait, let me try..."

Word had gotten around of a new drink, supposedly "the best in all of teyvat"... naturally, that called for a timely visit. It didn't exactly matter who you went with, though who were you fooling, it did, and he'd been the first one that came to mind when you were drafting a letter. Now, he stood by your side, leisurely swinging his arms while he walked and smiling smugly.

The reason? The moment you reached into your pocket to fish out your wallet to pay the fee for two drinks, you'd found your pockets empty, and that's where he had swooped in, graciously handing over his mora instead. The moment the two of you exited the vicinity of the drink stall, however, he somehow materialized your wallet once more and placed it in your hands with a cat-like grin. That little... you'd be sure to treat him to a meal sometime soon, a favor like that couldn't just be gone unpaid.

...That, and it was a convenient excuse to spend another outing with him.

"Hey, you got the limited edition flavor? C'mon, give me just a sip..." You beamed when he handed said drink down towards you, taking a sip from his straw — until you realized just what you'd done, of course.

It wasn't like it was something dire, not by any means. You were rather the romantic, and the fact that... well, hadn't the two of you just kissed indirectly?

You didn't voice your thoughts, only meekly retreated after handing the bottle back to him, growing even more flustered when your fingers brushed against his in the process. He seemed to hear them, however, and a smirk made its way onto his lips.

"Oh, don't tell me you were aiming for an indirect kiss all along?"

"W- No!" Ugh, that twinkle in his eyes was dangerous. It's easy to see that he doesn't believe you in the slightest. Yet, before you can dispense another rebuttal, he reaches a hand up to your hair and makes a mess of it.

— "Aha, who knew you were so sly~"

𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 — alhaitham, XIAO, albedo, diluc, neuvillette

— "Is something wrong?"

Well, not exactly "wrong", per se. Instead, there was definitely something wrong with you in particular.

The situation started off like any other would. You found the man in his usual place, and greeted him with a smile, to which he nodded in response. He was a busy person, so you'd decided to take the initiative and make him a boxed lunch, only planning to give it to him and then let him carry on with whatever tasks he needed to complete — only... hey, wasn't it too out of character of him to ask you to feed him??

He glanced up at you, his head subconsciously tilting to the side. Just with that simple movement, a figurative arrow struck your heart. "If it's too much trouble, nevermind-"

You awkwardly coughed into your fist, trying to disperse any awfully hopeful thoughts of "hey, isn't this so romantic!?" in your head — yearning for him was one thing, but projecting your imagination of him would be another entirely. "No, it's fine- I was just caught off guard, is all..." At this point, you were more so convincing yourself than him. You dipped your head in a nod to yourself. Of course, he was so swamped with duties that he couldn't spare the time to feed himself, that was the case, wasn't it?

"Here, open wide..." You took a portion of the food and lifted it up to his lips, and he ate it agreeably. Hamster. He's like a hamster, a thought you really shouldn't be having considering how his disposition was, but seeing him swiftly chewing the portion in his cheeks... you cleared your throat, only to flinch with a start upon realizing he'd taken the utensils from you. Now, he held some of the lunch up to you, gesturing it to your mouth.

"Eh, but this is for you-" You declined, yet the insistence in his gaze only grew.

"You brought it for me, so you should have some as well."

"Well... alright," not willing to bother with an argument you were not likely to win, you ate what he hovered before you gratefully, trying to ignore the way he was staring at you as you ate.

W, Wait, hold on, isn't that the same cutlery he used-

"Your face is red. Did you choke? Here, let me-"

"No, it's just that- we, just now- ah, it's nothing."

— "Mhm."

( a/n ) new post format and its silly ( i hate everything about this ) :stareyes: ahahah anyways. trying to revive myself so. you guys get ( poorly cooked ) food :>

𝐭 𝐚 𝐠 𝐥 𝐢 𝐬 𝐭 : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @falors, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader,@fiannee, @aether-darling, @ceneid, @avensuersa, @solxima, @sangoqueenkoko, @haliyamori ...

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Sleeping, Dancing and Mistletoe

Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> Times when people found evidence that you and Logan were possibly a couple, and the one time you both finally confirmed it.

Disclaimer: Mostly fluff, mentions/illusions to sex, Logan checking you out. Couple of swear words here and there. This has been unfinished in my drafts for at least a week so...yeah. This is finished. little Christmas at the end. Not Proof Read.

For what felt like the thirtieth time in the hour, you turned over with a huff and pressed your pillow to your ears, trying to muffle the sounds coming from next door. 

And just as it finally died down, you sighed and was just about to thank some ancient being for hearing your prayers when…it started again. 

“That’s it.”

Changing out of your longer pyjama bottoms and into some sleep shorts, you made your way out of your room, keeping your footsteps as quiet as you could until the noises faded away and you started to reach your intended room. 

Opening up the door, you found exactly what you were looking for. 

Shaking his shoulder as he lay on his stomach, you whispered his name, hoping he’d hear you. 

“Logan.” You shook him for a third time. “Logan.” 

Nothing. 

With another sigh, you slapped his face gently and said his name once more, a little louder and firmer. 

“Logan.”

Finally, he groaned. “What?” 

His voice was muffled by his pillow but you could hear him just well enough. Or maybe you were just used to his grunts that they were starting to become their own language you could understand. 

“Move over. I’m sleeping here tonight.”

“What’s wrong with your bed?”

“Nothing.”

“Then go and sleep there.” Logan turned his head away from you and scrunched up his pillow beneath his head.

“I can’t. My neighbours have decided tonight is Valentine’s Day 2.0.”

You pushed half of his body with your hands until he finally got the cue to turn over. 

“Too much information.”

You shook your head, “Too much information is what I’ve been hearing for the last hour.”

Finally, Logan rolled onto his back, his covers covering his bottom half, and groaned. “Fine.”

“Thank you.”

Logan straightened himself in his bed, giving you room to get in beside him. And the minute you touched his covers, you were glad you had changed into shorts. 

Logan was like a furnace. Just constant heat radiating from his body and for as much as it, at times, got too hot to stand near him, he was also, in your opinion, the best person to fall asleep beside. 

“Just shut up and go to sleep.”

Laying on your side, it wasn’t long until you closed your eyes, thankful that you could hear nothing other than Logan’s steady breathing and the distant clock down the hall that was forever ticking. 

However, just before you fully drifted off, you felt Logan’s hand take hold of yours and you smiled. 

He could be gruff all he liked, but when it came to you, he could be a softie. 

By the time morning rolled around, Storm was in search of both yourself and Logan. So, when she found your bed empty and cold, she figured Logan would know where you were. 

But he was asleep. 

Right beside you. 

Storm leaned against the door frame for a while, taking in the picture in front of her. 

Logan was fast asleep, something that was a miracle in itself, with you right beside him, your head turned towards the windows in his room, his own looking towards you, all the while, his arm slung over your midsection and one of your own hands, holding his. 

“Storm- what are you- Oh.”

Jean looked inside. 

“Looks like someone had a good night.” She smiled before looking back at Storm. “Do you think we can finally ask if they’re together?”

“I’d say this is confirmation enough.”

You shifted in your sleep as did Logan, and the two girls hid behind the corner for a moment. 

You turned your head and the rest of your body towards Logan, all the while his arm held you in a stronger grip and pulled you towards him. 

It took you a moment but you finally opened your eyes, adjusting to the light before your vision finally cleared on a sleeping Logan. 

For a moment, you allowed the hand between you both to reach up and brush the stray hairs from his eyes. It was rare you ever got to see Logan this…calm. 

Serene. 

Rested. 

Unknowingly, you started to run your left thumb over Logan’s arm that still held onto you. 

Then his fingers twitched, running over the exposed skin at the bottom of your back. 

“Are you watching me sleep?” His voice was rough, the first words in the morning. 

“Not anymore,” you smiled, brushing the final parts of his hair out of his face. 

“Thanks for letting me stay.”

Then a cough came from the door. 

Logan groaned. “Is this a new hobby; watching people sleep?”

Jean and Storm laughed from the door. “You two look cosy.”

You lifted your head and glared at Jean. “There is one reason I’m here. Maybe I think it’s time you make an investment in soundproof walls.”

Jean turned a little red and Storm laughed. 

“Look, we’ve got a busy day. You can kiss your boyfriend later.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you called out just as Logan called; “She’s not my girlfriend.”

Storm and Jean nodded and just as Jean snapped a picture, she sent it to both yourself and Logan as they walked away. 

“Sure.”

Leaning up, Logan reached for his phone to see the notification pop up before he placed it back down and you climbed out of bed. 

“They’re got a point.”

“About us being a couple?”

You threw a t-shirt at Logan. “Having a busy day.”

Logan laughed a little, scrubbing his face as he watched you leave his room before he reached behind him and took hold of his phone once more. 

Jean and Storm were right. 

From the picture…they did look like a couple. 

A couple of days passed and you were sitting in the quiet living room, the fires on both sides roaring. 

All classes had been finished for two days and some kids had returned home for the holidays, which meant you had some free time on your hands. 

And for you, that meant finally reading. 

Until you sensed someone stood behind you. 

“If you want to know what happens, you could just ask me.”

Logan plucked the book from your hands and circled around the sofa before coming to sit down beside you. 

“Logan! Give it back.”

“I want to see what it’s about.”

You sighed and sat up, “It’s a romance, Logan.”

“A romance?” Logan had a hint of a smirk on his face. “Like the…trashy kind?”

“Like the romantic kind.”

Logan looked at you and smiled. “The trashy kind.”

You rolled your eyes and took the book back from him, leaving him to fix the blanket so it rested over both of you. He placed his arm over the back of the sofa, allowing you to lean into him, whether you noticed you were doing so or not. 

“Just because you might not believe in romance, doesn’t mean the rest of us are the same.”

“I believe in romance.” 

“Yeah, right.”

Logan couldn’t help but smile. “What?”

“The Wolverine,” you said with a deep voice. “Believes in romance?”

Logan nodded. “Occasionally.”

“Occasionally?”

“Do you just like repeating everything I say?”

You nodded and smiled. “Occasionally.”

Logan rolled his eyes and took the book back from you and read a line out loud. 

“People really talk like this?”

You leaned into Logan. “No, but in a book it’s not so bad. Go on, read some more.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

You nodded. “You’re like my own personal audiobook.”

Logan gave a short smile before getting a little cosier and continued reading out loud. 

It wasn’t long before Logan found you asleep against him and he shifted in order to avoid you getting a crick in your neck. 

“Keep reading.”

“I thought you were asleep.” 

“Now I’m awake.” 

“Fine, just be quiet.”

You gave a fake salute. “Yes, sir.”

Holding his arm around your body that was pressed between himself and the sofa, Logan quickly kissed the top of your head and went back to reading. 

And ten minutes later, you were asleep. 

And so was he. 

An hour passed before someone found either of you, but this time, it was Scott and Bobby. 

“They might be in- oh. What do we have here?”

“Oh my god, Rouge has to see this. I told her they were together.”

Bobby rushed off and soon returned, pulling Rouge with him. 

“What is it?” Then she gasped. 

“Believe me now?”

And what Rouge saw made her smile. 

On the slightly too small sofa for Logan, you lay both between him and the sofa, as well as partly on him with your hand a little over his heart. His head was turned towards you. The blanket had fallen a little, so she reached over and pulled it up both of you before turning around and throwing a log onto the fire. 

“Come on, let's leave them.”

“But-”

“No, you are not going to disturb them. Come on.”

Rouge dragged the pair out and closed the door behind her. 

The third time people suspected you and Logan were an item was one late evening in October. 

Half of the kids were playing outside with all the freshly fallen leaves, whilst some of the older kids helped them find different critters and point them out, and build them habitats. The rest of the kids were either in their rooms or studying. 

Save for two. 

Bobby and Rouge were hiding outside of the kitchen watching yourself and Logan cook. 

“I didn’t even know he knew how to…chop. Let alone cook.”

“You should have more faith in him.”

“Come on, Rouge. You can’t tell me you weren't thinking it, too.”

And she couldn’t. Because she was. 

Meanwhile inside the kitchen, Logan was watching you from the kitchen island as he continued chopping the veg. 

There was something different about you. From the way you practically danced around the kitchen finding the different items for the recipe, to just…you. Whilst he was (semi) shirtless, just having his zipper hoodie on, along with his jeans and socks. He would have been fully dressed, except you had come and ambushed him in his room – even though you denied the word “ambushed” – to get him to help. 

And you were just simply in your pyjamas (of sorts) along with one of his zipper hoodies. 

“Bub,”

Logan laid down his knife and walked over to you as you stood by the stove, standing a little higher to see how much water was left in the pot at the back. 

You hummed a questioned response, but was met with a question…you didn’t expect. 

“Dance with me?”

“What?”

Logan smiled lightly as he pulled the wooden spoon from your hand and pulled you closer to him, despite him walking backwards. 

“Come on,” his voice in a light whisper. “Dance with me.”

“Didn’t take you for a dancer.”

Outside the door, Bobby and Rouge mouthed to each other; “They’re dancing.”

And you both were. 

Gently swaying to the music for a while, you allowed Logan to lead you around a small space in the centre of the kitchen. 

“We’re gonna burn the sauce.”

Logan gave a slight smile at you as he spun you out and back in, “We’re not gonna burn the sauce.”

“Logan.”

“Can’t you ever just enjoy a moment?”

“When that moment doesn’t include burning the house down, yes.”

“Bit of a jump, don’t you think, from burning the sauce.”

“Ha, so you agree. We’re gonna burn the sauce.”

Moving over, Logan turned down the heat on one of the pans before taking your hand back into his. “Now we won’t.”

Bobby and Rouge watched, in shock, the rest. 

For one, Logan knew how to dance? Since when? And since when did he…cook and dance in the kitchen? Unless…

Then Logan did something even you didn’t expect. 

He dipped you. 

You hand tightened its grip on Logan’s arm as you let out a small, if a little nervous, laugh. 

Logan had been full of surprises recently. From the impromptu audiobook session in which you woke up in his arms, to him not only dropping off a cup of coffee during your break from teaching but also a freshly baked muffin. 

And now he was dancing with you in the kitchen. 

And dipping you. 

When you had rushed him out of his room to help you cook, you hadn’t expected him to know the recipe for the sauce from the top of his head. Something he just happened to rattle off whilst you were looking for the cooking notebook that should have been in the cupboard beside the oven. Let alone be the one to ask to dance in the kitchen, and dip you. 

Bring you back up, both of you gave a slight chuckle as you turned around, the music slowly fading away in the background. 

“Logan…”

Looking at him, you forgot what you were going to say. 

Had his eyes always had so much green in them? 

Logan’s palm became warm against your back as it pressed further into you. Or maybe you pressed further into him and he just held you tighter. 

Slowly, your hand left his bicep and trailed towards his chest all the while your eyes studied his face. You’d known him for years and seen him a thousand times or more. 

So why did now feel like you were seeing him for the first time? Noticing him? Noticing each particle he was made up of that allowed him to sway with you in the kitchen to the music that had changed on the radio?

Only, before the space between yourself and Logan became any more closer, a noise came from outside the door. 

A sneeze. 

A sneeze that shocked you and Logan back into reality. 

Still holding you, Logan looked towards the door and gave a hint of a smile when he saw the flash of white disappear behind the beam. 

Realising what was happening, you lowered yourself back to the ground and slowly stepped out of Logan’s arms. “We should finish up.”

Logan nodded in agreement, however did look back at you when you got back to the stove, not noticing you do the same a few moments later, watching him pick up the rest of the veg and toss it into the collider to be washed. 

Time passed and after more music, more conversation - including a burnt tongue from when you had shoved a wooden spoon with fresh sauce on, into Logan’s mouth for him to try - and a lot of scrubbing later, you found Logan sitting inside the library and collapsed next to him. 

“Good news, the kids loved the food,” you told Logan. “Double good news; Jean and Scott are on cooking duty tomorrow.”

“Thank fuck.”

“Thank you for helping me.” Turning to look at Logan, you found him already looking. 

“You did ambush me.”

“I didn’t ambush you.”

“I wasn’t dressed.” Logan examined himself. “Technically, I’m still not.”

You rolled your eyes with a slight smile. “Fine. Maybe it was a mini, tiny, miniscule ambush.” 

You made a small space between your fingers. “Like this big of an ambush.”

Logan looked at you, at your fingers and then back to you in slight disgust before moving your fingers wider with his own. 

“That big of an ambush.”

You rolled your eyes and dropped your hand. “And they say us women are dramatic.”

It was Logan’s turn to roll his eyes. However, as he did so, his arm wrapped around you, and pulled you back into him and the sofa. 

“Just shut the fuck up for a minute and listen.”

You did so. 

“I don’t hear anything.”

“That’s the point.” Logan’s eyes were shut as his head rested on the back of the sofa. 

Eventually you gave a shrug and joined him. 

An hour later, Storm found you both fast asleep beside one another so with a knowing smile, she found a blanket, covered you both up and closed the door behind her. But not before reminding herself she needed to get verbal confirmation from you both. 

She wasn’t handing over any money to Jean and Xavier until she had verbal confirmation of what exactly was going on between you two. 

And she didn’t have to wait long…at least in the long run, she didn’t have to wait long. 

Until then, there were plenty more incidents of falling asleep next to each other, bringing each other coffee, dancing to music in the kitchen, smiling and laughing – all before she finally got verbal confirmation that the inevitable had finally happened. 

Finally, it was acceptable to decorate for Christmas. 

Two days prior, Rogue, Logan and Storm had been helping you find all the old decorations in the attic and bring them down. Storm did try then to bribe something out of Rogue, but she apparently was just in the dark as the rest of them. 

But the smile she gave when she looked over at Logan, who was placing down another box from the back of the pile for you to take a look at, told Storm something different. 

“I can’t believe you leave it this late to decorate.”

Logan looked at you. “We’re still in November.”

“So?” 

Taking hold of the garland, you started to climb the ladder. Logan held onto the bottom just to be safe. 

“If you had it your way, the decorations would be up all year round.”

“Hey, no.”

“Hey, yes.”

“I’d take them down for…” you tried to think. “Halloween. You’d have a little break.”

Logan didn’t look entirely thrilled. “Halloween is one day.”

“Technically, it’s a month.”

“To you, it’s a month. To the rest of us, it’s a day.”

You looked back at him. “To you it���s a day, to the rest of us it’s a month.”

Then you looked back at the garland. “How does that look?”

“Great from where I’m standing.”

You looked a little confused for a second before quickly looking over your shoulder, realising where Logan was, in fact, looking. 

Not at the garland, but at your ass. 

You smiled and started to step down the ladder, hitting his shoulder on the way down. 

“I meant the garland.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” Logan looked up. “Looks great.”

You laughed. “You didn’t even look.”

With a smile as you finally stepped back into his arm, he looked to the side and up. “It looks great.”

“Good. Now,” Logan turned back to look at you and you kissed him quickly. “We have to put up five more.”

“I get to watch you put up five more.”

You smiled. “This is why you’re my favourite person.”

Logan smiled. He could help you with everything else, but when it came to the garland, you had full control on where it went. Which, he didn’t mind. So long as he got to watch you put it up. 

You quickly kissed him once more, only to be pulled back when you tried to walk away. 

Then Logan gave you a real kiss. 

A little dizzy, you smiled and placed a hand on his chest and closed your eyes. “Wow.”

He gave you a quicker, lighter kiss. “You better get going before Rogue comes back with another box of lights.”

“Light?” Then it hit you. “Oh, yeah.”

Logan smirked a little as he watched you walk away and down the hallway. 

It was a couple of hours before everyone was in the same room, making the final touches all the while most of the other kids were either playing outside in the snow, were taking naps or decorating their own rooms. 

And the others had been watching you and Logan all day. 

The stolen glances, the stolen touches, the slightly knowing smiles from both Rogue and Bobby. And then, as Logan was helping you down from the ladder, his hand on your thigh, Bobby went to make the final hammer to hang up the mistletoe. 

“Wait, no. Not there.”

“Where then?”

Storm looked around. “I know. Y/n, hang this just above there. We don’t need a remake of Mistletoe Central 1997.”

Logan looked at Storm. “Do I wanna know?”

Storm shook her head. “Here.”

She handed you the mistletoe before Logan passed you the hammer back from his belt. 

Three knocks and the nail was set in and the mistletoe was above you on a corner beam, just a little to the side of the christmas tree. 

At least this way, those looking for it, would find it. 

"Oh, no, wait.” Jean said, looking at you. “Have to kiss someone. It’s tradition. You’re under the mistletoe.”

There was no one else apart from Logan.

Logan looked around at the others. He wondered how long it would take. 

Coming up behind you on the ladder, you moved over for him to stand beside you. His palm on your back held you steady and, leaning his other arm on the ledge of the ladder, his hand cupped your face and he kissed you. 

Lasting a little longer than the others had expected, you soon heard Rogue giving a little cheer, as well as a couple of whistles from the others. 

“Okay, I think they get it.” You whispered to Logan as he finally pulled away, a smile very noticeable on both of your faces. 

“Happy now?” Logan asked, turning towards where Jean and Scott were standing. 

“That was some kiss.”

You felt yourself blush at the comment. As did Logan. 

He helped you back down the ladder before you both turned and really saw the other's expression. As well as the exchanging of money between people. 

“Sooo…how long has this been going on?”

You were leaning into Logan, his hand around your back and on your hip. 

You looked at Logan, “A couple of months. We’re…what? November now so that would…”

“That would…” Logan counted back in his head. “May…June, July…six months.”

You looked back to the others. “Six months.”

A chorus of shocked faces and loud voices sounded out; “SIX MONTHS?!”

All before a small call from Rogue was made, which made both yourself and Logan smile. 

“I knew it!”