#but neither of them mentally or musically aged well

[uselesssomebody]

𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝕦𝕡 - post!d&w!logan howlett x reader

complete masterlist | logan howlett - coming soon!

words || 𝟚.𝟡𝕜

summary || in which the reader gets stood up, and logan consoles her - in more than one way

a/n || self indulgent :)) guess what happened to me guys !!

➵ i know i've been literally dead but i may be back! not sure fully yet lol but i've missed writing. shocker, college is in fact hard and i've spent a whileeee adjusting. that also means my writing is prob a bit shit here but i just wanted to get this out

➵ first time writing logan - i watched deadpool & wolverine and oh my godddd this man can fucking get it. haven't watched the x-men movies so i kinda had to guess his accent, sorry if it's inconsistent. this is set after the events of deadpool & wolverine

➵ shall i revamp the blog theme guys? i don't have any ideas but idk if you guys are bored by it haha

➵ send me requests if you have ‘em. enjoy!

warnings || fluff/smut/a wee bit of angst

➵ fingering

➵ age gap (not a plot point)

(tell me if i miss anything)

having 2 people in a one bedroom apartment was already cramped. 3 is insane. as much as wade tried, he felt bad for poor hugh's - *cough* logan's back for constantly swapping between the dingy couch and the mattress on the floor to sleep.

and the wolverine was never the type to ask for help, it pissed him off. they had been nearly atomized together for christ's sake!

another room on the floor had opened up, and as much as wade wanted to kick blind al off to that room instead, he knew the old lady wouldn't be able to pay the whole rent herself, and he had to make sure she didn't use too much fun-time sugar under fox's watchful eye. luckily, neither did logan have to live alone, as wade was quick to find a down-on-her-luck college girl who needed cheap rent.

so, now wade's stuck with an ornery old woman, and pretty-boy - well, man - logan got to have a cute girl as his roommate. just his luck. he checked in on his fellow invincible often, and as much as logan didn't talk, wade knew he didn't mind her one bit.

she tried to be a good roommate - cook breakfast for the both of them, pick up a sweet treat for him too if she was getting one for herself, and trying to keep to herself with the studying. but she couldn't help the little crush that she had on her roommate. like, come on.

older, mature, mysterious, downright yummy? what's a girl to do? she kept it to herself, but seeing him smirk or chuckle when she realizes she's accidentally been staring at him in that leather jacket or shirtless going to bed. at least she doesn't make him uncomfortable, but it feels pretty dismissive - how he sees her as such a fucking kid that he can't even take her attraction seriously.

logan took it very fucking seriously.

every day was a mental challenge - truly, god gives his worst temptations to his strongest soldiers. the liquor on his breath was still strong, not now because his life was ruined, but rather because his mind was.

this cute, young girl who looked at him like he was the solution to all her relationship issues, like his old-man body was good enough to fucking eat? it was a miracle that he hadn't taken her. and she just looked so beautiful as she got ready for bed, or as she bobbed her head to music while she studied, or as she buzzed around the small kitchen to cook her third cheap pasta for the week.

it didn't help how she'd always ask how he is, buy him little things to keep his mood up, and always offered to take the couch. he'd rather eat glass than let her sleep on the couch, but nonetheless, she offered every day.

fuck. it was impossible to sleep when she was just behind the wall, in her fucking shorts and tank. unbelievable. he needed a fucking drink.

some nights, he'll come home in the evenings to an empty house. it's rare - she doesn't have too much money to go out, but when she does, she'll usually warn him she'll be home late. he always makes sure to stay awake until she gets home, and even had the privilege of going into downtown to pick her up after the friends she was with had managed to lose her. she had hiccuped, tearing up in embarrassment as she watched him approach her drunk form leaning on a tree outside. she had thought the stern arch of his brow was because of her calling him so late, when really, he was just angry that her friends had the audacity to put her in such a dangerous situation.

"it's windy." he grunts, and she looks down at her short, strappy dress, ashamed.

"s-sorry. we drove here." she tries to explain, and logan relents, brow going from angry to grumpy.

"yeah." he finally sighs, walking with her back to their place. seeing her hands go to cradle her elbows, he places his leather jacket over her shoulders, and she swallows thickly.

"you don't have to-" but he's lighting a cigar as she speaks, in just his wifebeater he'd been lounging in. she decides to shut up, silent until they reach the house.

he helps her in and then waits outside to finish the cigar, and after she gets in, she sighs softly, carefully placing the jacket down. she starts trying to make logan some dinner as a thank-you, but passes out at the dinner table half-way through. luckily, she hadn't had the stove on, and logan's heart melts as he sees her, halfway through mixing a few eggs, head lolling off the chair as she drools a little.

cutie, he thinks, separating her fingers from the fork and bowl, and carrying her into the bed. as he tries to set her down, her fingers clutch his arm, and a small, sleepy whine leaves her.

logan's not a man to blush, but hearing that little beg for him to stay makes him fucking burn. he looks down at her, a hand running through his hair, and he gently tries to let her down again. she just holds on tighter, groaning, "warm..." a little mumble escapes her, and logan huffs. of course it's not that she wants him, she's just cold. he sighs, sitting down and letting her cuddle into his arm.

he had planned to leave once she'd passed out, but it was late, and he was old, so he had ended up just sleeping next to her anyways. the sun's rays the next morning pierce his eyes, and he sighs softly, waking up next to her. he swallows thickly, watching the way the sun hits her form, bathing her exposed skin in orange and amber.

the moment is broken by her startling awake. for a moment, she sighs happily, thinking that this was just a continuation of her dream about logan, where she wakes up next to him after a night of great sex, and they both live happily ever after. then she blinks.

his bicep feels bigger than in the dream, his face looks a little more real, he's- real?!

she squeaks, immediately sitting up.

"logan?"

"don't go getting any ideas in your head." he immediately defends, sighing. "you called me last night."

she bites her lip.

"you took me home?"

"put you in bed too. then ya fucking kept me on ya like a boa." he's joking, but she still struggles to tell between his grumpy voice and his joking grumpy voice.

"fuck, i'm really sorry, must have ruined your night-" she starts, and he gets up, ruffling her hair.

"it's okay. better knowing you were safe." it leaves her a little star struck, especially when he then goes to continue making the omelette she had tried to make last night.

he's cooking for her for once and she gets such a nice view of his broad back in that wife-beater. maybe things aren't that bad.

knowing how she always texts if she's out late, he's a bit confused to come home to an empty room. he huffs, trying not to panic, but he can't help how much he care for the girl. he leans back, lounging on the couch.

as an hour passes with no texts, he's about to get up and ... do something. look for her, call her - something.

just then, she walks through the door, purse dropping on the floor with a thud.

that's an attitude he hadn't seen before. she looks like a deer in headlights when she notices that he is in fact home.

"o-oh." she blinks, quickly picking up the purse, as if to console it. "wade said you weren't home." logan raises a brow, a little curious why the other man would say that.

"long day?" he finally comments, and she breathes out.

"shit day." she corrects. logan's brow furrows.

"hmm." he murmurs, stretching his arm out over the back of the couch. an open invitation. she hesitates but... he looks warm.

conservatively, she sits beside him, hands in her lap. she's not even paying attention to whatever channel logan has on as background noise.

theres maybe 5 solid minutes of silence.

finally, she sighs.

"i'm gonna go to bed." she murmurs softly, getting up. logan wraps his fingers around her palm.

"talk to me." he mumbles gruffly, and she knows that's a pretty big first step for him. she bites her lip, sitting back down, and takes a deep breath.

"got stood up." it's little more than a whisper, and she feels a pout forming on her lips, which she tries to reverse, to little avail. it's silent again, and she wonders if logan heard her.

of course, he did - spending a moment processing who the hell would stand her up.

"i'm sorry." his rough fingers press over hers, comforting, and she can't help but sink more into him than the couch cushions.

it feels nice, more right than the kisses she'd shared with the guy she'd been seeing.

"whatever." she tries to mumble, trying not to show her hurt.

"he's an idiot." his hand slips around her shoulders, and he can feel her pulse quicken.

"i'm an idiot."

"he's an idiot." he repeats sternly. "who was he?" she bites her lip.

"some... guy." logan suppresses a scoffing bark.

"not if he's got you like this." he looks down at her. she's ashamed to look up at him.

"i don't know... i just really liked him. i thought he liked me too." she feels a tear slip out, and logan's fist squeezes in anger as he sees her quickly wipe it away.

"he should be singin' his prayers that he even got your attention." that makes her giggle - strained, but there. he prefers the sound to her defeated mumbles. "look at me." he murmurs, taking her chin and angling it to face him. his eyes travel down to the cute dress she'd put on for her date - low cut, perfectly form fitting, "he's a fucking idiot." he whispers, hand slipping down to her waist.

"yeah?" she whispers, significantly less focused on aforementioned 'fucking idiot' now.

"yeah, princess." he murmurs, hand gently running up and down her side. he knows he shouldn't, but he can practically feel the jump of her heart at the endearment. "you like that? princess?" his voice almost has a teasing lilt, and her lids flutter at the difference in tension from 2 minutes ago.

"a little." her face looks so bashful, so unsure. after that depressing feeling of not being wanted - god, he wants to pull her out of that so bad.

"should be treated like a princess." she shifts imperceptibly closer.

"got a guy who'll do that for me?" she teases, and logan scoffs softly.

"you know i do." his voice carries that gruffness even with how quiet he is, speaking into the small space between their lips. "you know, princess."

she breathes out shakily, leaning forward, when logan pulls her chin, pressing his lips to hers. she whimpers softly, finding her hands and placing them at his nape, not wanting to let go. it's not rough, but needy, his other hand slipping to the hem of her dress on her thigh. she hums into his lips, as he pulls away, a little breathless.

"don't - we shouldn't." he whispers, and a pout graces her lips - a proper one.

"why?"

"yer upset." he sighs, but doesn't move away.

"about?" she says playfully, having fully forgotten about her evening; she'd been waiting for this for so long. he lets out a gruff bark of a laugh, pulling her closer, and she adjusts, getting on his lap.

"come on, bub." he scolds again, and she hums, leaning down to kiss him.

"please?" she whispers, against his lips. he groans.

"jesus, what're y'doin' to me?" his head tilts back, and she giggles, exhilarated that she's got him like this. her hands trail down his arms - god, his arms - tracing the veins, somehow always bulging, as she gently leans forward again, kissing him. this time, theres a bit more tongue, and he pulls her closer roughly, gnashing their teeth together. she moans softly into his mouth, fingers finding his rough palm. he grips them tight - not enough to hurt, but just enough to show that he's holding back.

"i'm not made of glass." she teases, and he scoffs softly.

"i could snap ya'n half." his mumble finds his way back into her lips, and she has to control herself to not showhow much the little quip affected her.

"maybe i want you to."

"jesus." he flips her over, onto her back, "got this pretty little dress on, fuck, that guy's an idiot." his hands travel down her thighs, and she bites her lip, a massive grin on her face.

"you like it?" she murmurs softly, playing with the strap of her dress.

"whadya think?" he huffs, and she giggles.

"and if i told you i got it for you?" logan presses a hot kiss to the side of her thigh.

"i'd tell ya to get a dozen more." his lips move up her thigh slowly, and she lets out a shaky breath.

"god, logan." her whispers of his name are like music to his ear, and he leaves a small bite by the hem of her dress.

"gotta tell me if i hurt you." he mutters, more seriously, and she smiles.

"only fun if it hurts."

"i'm serious, princess." she relents.

"i'll tell you." he sighs in content, gently riding her dress off.

"this okay?"

"more than okay." she helps him, pulling the dress over her hips, her lacy panties peeking under the fabric. when he spends just a bit too long staring, she giggles, "you can touch." she affirms, and he barks out a gruff lap.

"could'a guessed that much." his fingers trace the hem of them, travelling down her inner thighs. her breath hitches, and she gently rolls her hips, desperate for more.

"please, logan." she whispers, breathing a bit labored. though he'd love to tease, he's getting desperate too.

"gotta tell me what ya want, princess." he murmurs, and she bites her lip, almost shy again. it's cute.

"touch me?" she murmurs, almost like it's a favor she's asking. he kisses her thigh again, before gently peeling the panties off. he lets out a soft groan at how slick she is, fingers catching her arousal as they travel down her slit. she lets out a shocked gasp - practically a moan - and he fucking loves it.

`'need them, princess?" he smirks at her, and she nods, almost pathetically.

"god, i do." he obliges, gently prodding her entrance with his middle finger. he slips in with little resistance, but jesus, he can feel how tight she is.

"fuck, yer gonna be the death of me, princess." he groans softly, and she lets out a breathy giggle.

"thought that doesn't happen to you?"

"well, never had a girl as pretty as you." he murmurs, slipping another finger in. she flushes, back arching as his fingers do, body warm as she rocks her hips in time with his ministrations.

"faster?" she begs softly, and he could never say no to those big doe eyes. he starts moving faster, her slick absolutely coating his fingers, and she moans louder, hips moving in a more stuttered rhythm.

"like that?" that teasing lilt is in his voice, and she nods furiously.

"j-just like that-" she stammers, mind already foggy, "god, i'm close, please don't stop."

"not in a million years, princess." she lets out a loud moan as she can feel herself unraveling, the orgasm so powerful that her thighs shake around him as she cums. she pants as he helps her ride through it.

"good girl, just like that, princess," he consoles, "so fuckin' pretty for me, ain't cha?" he grins, as she starts to come down. as her breathing slows, so too do his fingers, before slowly sliding them out of her. he gently rubs her clit, just to see her jolt at the stimulation, before chuckling, and placing his soaked fingers onto his tongue.

she lets out another moan as she watches him, with lidded eyes.

"i'll cum again." she warns, playfully, and he's gleeful. she tastes like fruit.

"i plan on it, princess." she feels her cheeks warm.

"that's the hardest i've cum in a while." she admits shyly.

"sounded like it." he teases, but before they can get anything else out, there's banging on the wall that connected them to wade and blind al.

"these walls are paper thin!" al's screech sounds a little traumatized, and her scolding make both her and logan whip around, embarrassed.

"for once in my life, i agree with her! shut up, lovebirds, i wanna fucking sleep!" wade's voice is equally exasperated.

there's silence, until she calls back a bashful, "sorry!" she turns to logan, almost laughing, but still flushed with shame. "maybe we should stop. he scoffs.

"nah, just means i gotta teach ya to be quiet."

safe to say, she's not thinking at all about her date tonight.

[itonashi]

I am ME.

SUMMARY : Known around the world — a genius scientist named [Name][Last Name]. Everyone sought to be her as she was deemed perfect. A young prodigy that managed to climb up the ranks alongside her friends. She met her demise at the age of 35. It shook the world. Tears fall because of her. Will there be another her?

PAIRING : aquamarine hoshino x fem!reader

WARNINGS : implied deaths, stalking, drugs, slow burn romance, murder, more will be added.

A/N : 2k words. goddamn.. hehe enjoy and pls remember im not an expert still in the adults world neither i am that smart LOL.

4 years later...

You're 6 years old right now. Well, physically. You do not have the patience to restrain myself from not talking all the time. Your babysitter is sleeping. You're infront of a tv. Remote beside you. Maybe, you should change it to a music show?

You're bored after all. No freedom so what else can you do? You change the channel to a music show. After you change it, The MC was announcing the winner for the music show.

"Let's congratulate, B-Komachi!" The MC exclaimed and the audiences roared at the mention of B-Komachi. The members went up the stage, taking the award.

"That girl... looks familiar." You muttered under your breath. A beautiful girl with a blue purplish hair color took the mic and start her speech while giving a heart gesture.

That's the girl you met before. She was interesting to say the least. Even from a first glance, you knew that she hailed from an abusive and solemn past. She was expressionless, she talked to you without any interest in the world and show the real her. To see her become an idol.. does that means she's lying to herself right now.

What drove her to be an idol? You met her only once and yet you feel like, she would be important later on. How captivating, you hope the future is kind to her.

"And that's all from me! Ai!" She waved and giving the mic to another member.

Idol. A career that isn't appreciate enough. Some people on the world looked down upon this career. Just singing and dancing, they said. It's more than that.

Idol need to have a perfect image. One wrong step, then scandal will come for them. Especially if you're a famous group. They have to lie. They have to please their fans. One mistake and it will be talk about for years even after disbanding. The entertainment industry is dangerous. Strict to the point they could take your life.

Idol is also human. They're not robot. They also have feelings. Idols are admirable, they need to have a strong mental to handle the hate. The world is unfair to them. There's so many cases on what happened to idols for the past years and some of it is cruel.

Every career have it's upside and downside. There's no need to compare.

You broke out of your thoughts when the front door opening. You didn't even realize your babysitter already went home. "[Name]." Your father called out to you. You stand up and walk towards him with a tiny smile on your face. Your father wasn't that bad now that you have observed him for 3 years.

He looks like he love your mother dearly. Before going to work, he would always give a kiss to the cheek on your mother. Your mother would blush a little. He carry you to his arm and bring you to his lap.

"I need you to make a decision, [Name]." He said with a stern tone. You tilt your head and nod. "Do you want the easy life or the hard life?" He added, starting into your eyes with a little smile.

You widen your eyes a little "I choose the hard life!" You give an eye closed smile to your father. You felt like being silly while saying that. You expect that if you choose the hard life, he would put you into the entertainment industry. This is the time for you to reveal how smart you are to your family. You aim to be the youngest people to be scouted into the world organization you were previously in. It is possible, in that organization there's no rules for age. You learn that when a child was born in that organization from a couple.

How's that child you see as a little sister figure doing? You hope she still love drawing and painting. Your plan starts now.

Your father sae the expression on your face and laugh "That's good, [Name]. In this world, there's no one living the easy life. Next week, you will follow me visit some director." Your father said with excitement. This is probably the second time you see him that excited — the first one being the time when you talk for 'first time'

He pat you on the head and left you alone on the couch. 'Did he do that just to left me on the couch?' You deadpan at your father but shrug it off. You lay on the couch and close your eyes, gathering the information you gotten for the 4 years you have been living in this new body.

One thing for sure, one of your friends had a baby at the same year you were born. You pray for the chances to meet the child. This time, there's no mistake. You want more connections than before.

"[Name], are you excited to see a child acting on the site?" Your father is driving the car to a filming site. He said the director is someone named Taishi Gotanda. You don't really remember the great things that Taishi guy have did since you weren't that keen on keeping up with the media world.

"Yeah! I'm excited! They're the same age as me, right?" You exclaimed. "No, you're the older one there." He said. Great, being the eldest means babysitting. Well, not if the children is discipline properly.

You arrive at the site and you scan around the site for a potential connection to be made with. Your father tap your back and you follow him behind his back. "Oh, Yoshino-san. Great to have you here." The Taishi guy shake your father's hand and he noticed you behind your father. You notice his eyes and smile while waving to him. 

'This is boring.' You thought while walking a little bit away from your father. "Yoshino-chan, please follow me." A staff called out to you. You faced them and nod. "Your father said that you would only see how the process goes. You don't need to do any acting." The staff stated while leading you to a waiting room. You only hum at her to show that you're still listening to her.

'What a quiet kid...' The staff thought. The staff left you as soon as you arrive at the waiting room. You saw three kids and overhear their conversation. "Bet her acting was so bad they had to cut it all out! She seems to be good at buttering people up, though!" The child with red hair uttered.

The red hair proceed to be kinda rude in your opinion to other people. She left not before noticing you though. She look at you up and down and left. 'Is this how kids are?' You sweat at the child behavior. You look inside the room and saw two kids who you assume is twin because of the similarities. The annoyed expression on their face is visible, probably because of that girl? She's Arima Kana , if you remember correctly.

The girl who can flick a crying switch. Well, whatever. You bow at the twin and introduce yourself. They notice you and bow as well. "Oh, I'm Hoshino Ruby! And he's my brother. Hoshino Aquamarine but call him Aqua." The girl claim. What a weird name for japanese people.. The first thing you noticed about the pair is their eyes. It was captivating enough to lure you in. I'm sure they would become a big part of the entertainment industry. A powerful duo, they would say.

"Nice to meet you.." Aqua greet you with a neutral face. An opposite personality of his sister. A smile crawled up your face. "Soo.. why are you guys here?" You questions their presence at the filming site. "I will be acting while my sister here well.. she's just here, I guess." The boy deadpan. "How rude!" Ruby exclaimed.

You nod and cross your arm "It seems like Ruby is the same as me. I will only be watching." You hope that a friendship will bloom between you guys.

Amazing. You lightly smirk at the acting Aqua did. He only act like himself but he was incredibly creepy with it as that was what's the director aiming for. Maybe, the main part of it was because he seems mature for his age and his eyes. You just can't seem to let go of the beauty. "How did you think about it, [Name]?" Your father ask you with interest towards the young boy. "It's amazing, father. Can I start acting too?" You replied while staring at Arima Kana who was crying.

"It's never to late for you to be like your mother." Your father stated while lightly smiling at you "I can get you a role. Make sure to past my expectations." He added. Looks like the expectations for results is starting.

After that, your father have been keeping contacts with the twin since he have taken an interest on the young boy. You occasionally met the twin and learn more about them one by one. Sadly, your father couldn't keep hold of the them — Director Taishi Gotanda did.

You appear on multiple drama show as a child actor and made a name for yourself. There have been talks that you would conquer Arima Kana the child actor prodigy. You don't intend to do that but if that's what happen, it will happen. But they have to stop the  comparison because every person have their own flaws.

You even got to do some photoshoot for a child's brand. Well, this will be memories in a few years. Atleast, you get to feel being a child again. A carefree child. Because of all the acting, you had to learn new skills everytime even things that you didn't learn in your past life. Naturally, you're good at it.

I guess you would still be a genius this time too.

When the death of Ai Hoshino happened, you attend the funeral with your parent. The people grieving over Ai's death make you recall the time your parent got into a bad accident and passed away because of that. You didn't cry because you had no connection to her but it still hurts to know that the stranger you have met before when they're a teenager to died when they almost turn into a full fledged adult.

You hope the people from Strawberry Production is taking their time to heal from the loss of a staff. You can only give prayers to them.

Later on, the death of Ai was just like a wind breeze that pass every day. No one talk about it after a week. Some may move on and some didn't. Ai Hoshino may you rest in peace.

A year of being in the entertainment industry — thanks to your father. You don't care if they call you a nepo baby. You're talented, that's all that matter. You were invited to a variety show and you were excited since you can freely show your talents there. No on can say a thing about it. No one will question it.

You met the cast and greet them. It was going well until they start talking about your acting career. "Yoshino-san, you really resemble your mother and your acting skill is incredible. Mind to share a tip?" The MC compliment your acting. "I can't because I am ME. I don't think much on what to do and just go with the flow." You said with a neutral tone. One thing about the entertainment industry, they won't question what the kids say since their still not mature for their age and just let out what's on their mind. Even if you have a sharp tongue, the people will love it. They don't mind it when a kid do it. At the very least, you have to have a character that will make people love you.

That would make people remember you for a long time.

"Yoshino-san, your father said before in an interview that you are a genius. Top at everything, is that true?" One of the cast commented. You smirk "Why don't you give me a question and let me answer it? I would prefer if it's a math question, though." With this, you will make moments for yourself. The cast laugh at your confidence and gave you a whiteboard. You will be competing with the 'smartest' cast, they said.

"69 x 4."

Ding!

A ring was made by you. The questions was too easy. As former scientist, you had to count percentage so this is a piece of cake for you. The cast beside you look at you bewildered. "276." You confidently said. "Correct!" The MC exclaimed. You know that they're looking down on you. You ought to prove them wrong.

After a series of questions, the people were speechless upon your smartness. The adults didn't expect this. Your mother look at you behind the swarm of staff and smile widely. You notice it and wave a little.

Soon, the filming ended. You were tired and hold out your arms to your mother. Your mom chuckle s and carry you up to her arms and kiss you on the cheeks. "You did good, my little angel." Your mother praises you. You snuggle up to her. Even though, you are an adult mentally but you want to indulge in this child body of your of receiving parent's love.

Even an adult wants to heal their inner child.

TAGLIST : @glitch-karma @kult-o @miyakoa @pandaswitch @serbian-x @nambii @bajifairyy @lumiriai

[NEXT] [PREV] [SERIES LIST]

itonashi © // don't plagiarize, copy or edit my works.

[rosenotactuallyquartz]

Any headcanons on why Rose's Rainbow Quartz looks the way that she does?

pearl + rose = rainbow quartz

(& what she tells us about their relationship)

here’s what storyboarder katie mitroff said about their fusion in we need to talk:

“I LOVE these two so I was absolutely ecstatic to draw this scene. I remember being really pressed to pack all of their passion and Pearl’s smugness into one moment that lasts the length of a guitar solo… and their fusion that’s just an embodiment of that into one giant, shamelessly beautiful dancer!”

fusion is the ultimate connection between gems and the personification of a gem relationship. it’s important to note that pearl and rose had a stable fusion, which tells us that they were in perfect sync physically, emotionally, & mentally. had they been too flustered, confused, not connecting well for whatever reason in we need to talk, their fusion would not have worked that way.

their dance signifies a strong emotional, romantic, sensual, and emotional relationship. it becomes someone who is unique, strong, & vibrant.

boldness

everything about rainbow’s disposition, body language, & appearance is bold.

her boldness represents just how passionate pearl and rose’s relationship is, and she’s also a reminder of how their love started. together, they rebelled against homeworld, a place where diamonds and pearls are not considered equals. love between pearls and diamonds was unheard of and considered wrong. during the rebellion, when pearl and rose began to feel for one another, a ruby-sapphire fusion resonated with rose. she wanted to fight for the beauty of these relationships, and fight against those who perceived certain gems as inferior & relationships between “inferior” and “superior” gems as gross.

despite how not allowed their relationship was in homeworld, rose still looked pearl in the eyes when she confessed her feelings & replied with, “please, don’t ever stop!”

rainbow demonstrated everything they fought for in the rebellion, her boldness representing that they were never afraid to love each other despite the homeworld’s disapproval.

her stability and her boldness also shows just how sure they were. neither of them ever thought like homeworld did, not even a bit. this relationship would never be easy, and there was a lot of danger around them, but they were courageous and loved each other shamelessly, because they knew their love was beautiful.

but that’s not all:

“Rose falls in love with Pearl’s surprising boldness that comes out of left field.” — end of an era, page 86

rose’s consistent love for pearl is so intense yet such a second nature to her, such a part of her, that one of her favourite things about pearl shines through rainbow quartz.

pastel pink, blue, ??? more on her appearance

rainbow does not look or act more like pearl or rose. rose does not overpower pearl, or vice-versa. for example, her hair is long and large like rose’s hair, but the tips of her hair and the color are very similar to pearl’s hair.

her exact colour palette is not quite known due to the tinted lighting of the music video. whether this be the creators’ intentions or not, i like to think that her unknown colour palette represents something about their relationship, too. pearl has early memories of rose when she would juggle, scribble drawings, struggle to control a spaceship, spend ages outside with her little playmate. their closeness lasted so long that not even their best friends could possibly know everything about their dynamic. no one knows about all the memories they share, simply because it would take a ridiculously long time for them to tell all these stories.

however, what we do know is that pearl and rose’s pastel colours really seem to show—lots of light pinks and blues. her movements are incredibly gentle and graceful. there’s a softness to her, despite how bold she is. i think this symbolizes the softness of their relationship, the comfort and sweetness. their fusion was initially thought of after they witnessed love. as a result of this, they also met garnet, someone who would be very important to them. their best friend, and together, they learned about and experienced all types of love.

her design is very 1980s, as this was reflecting the era. her dance skills reflect pearl and rose’s dispositions. pearl is very graceful, and her movements often resemble a ballerina’s. when she attempted to teach steven about his powers, she brought up creating his own dance. this is a pearl thing, not because she’s a pearl, but because she’s herself. it’s a part of her, and rose always encourages her to be herself. so, of course this part of pearl is shown in rainbow quartz. her dance moves also suggest a sensuality, and she shows this shamelessly. many other gems are more private about this sort of thing if this is something they’re interested in, but it appears that both pearl and rose were comfortable with being rather open about this aspect of their relationship at the time. not so much that it was uncomfortable for anyone, more in a flirtatious, implied sense. so, we have a dancer who is sensual like both of them, but she also has pearl’s type of gracefulness and rose’s type of playfulness.

name & crystal

there’s also symbolism behind her name, rainbow. i know what you’re thinking, sapphic relationship and the rainbow flag. it’s funny, and it’s very true. but it’s not just this; throughout history (even around the time of their first fusion), the rainbow has been a symbol of hope. after a dark and gloomy rainfall, there’s a beautiful rainbow. after pearl makes pink disappear, rose reforms, and as sugar says, “the dust clears, revealing an endless honeymoon” (end of an era timeline). after the war, pearl + rose live together for thousands of years. heck, after centuries of being traumatized by homeworld, both together and in separate ways, they share a love that goes against homeworld’s rules, norms, and beliefs. a fusion is a relationship personified, and everything about pearl and rose’s love signifies something warm in the midst of something cold and dark.

i could have a whole post about crystal properties and how they relate to the characters’ personalities. but i’ll touch on this a little bit for rainbow. rainbow quartz is a stone that reflects every colour of the rainbow. how interesting, because white diamond stated, “as for me, i’m certain I don't need you. after all, i’m every color of the light! but you're a part of me… the part i always have to repress” in change your mind, when she spoke to steven, whom she believed was rose. “white believes that because her gem channels white light, she is essentially a gem light form all the time” (end of an era, 116). pearl and rose both know rose is a diamond, yet as a fusion, they are rainbow quartz. i believe this represents comfort, acceptance, trust, healing. we all know that rose was in a lot of pain, and no one could have changed that. she was deeply ashamed of herself, but a very important aspect of her relationship with pearl is that pearl knew. rose told her every secret she could say, pearl was aware that she was pink diamond, and she was aware of the abuse she experienced. she even saw some of it, as confirmed in now we’re only falling apart as well as pearl’s behavior when white diamond is brought up. rainbow suggests that pearl wanted to help rose heal from her abuse trauma. when she was with pearl, rose was able to feel better about herself & white’s voice in her mind quieted down a bit, even if it never completely disappeared. quartz suggests that pearl loved rose as rose and not as a diamond, and rose still felt comfortable as a quartz, as her new self, around someone who knew the individual she used to be. however, please note that things are not all good. it’s incredibly apparent, just how much pearl wanted to protect and heal rose. it’s partially why she became so fixated after losing her, it’s why she struggles to think about herself. in my opinion, pearl’s feelings for rose are a lot like the song two by sleeping at last: “no, i don't want to talk about myself; tell me where it hurts. i just want to build you up, build you up, until you're good as new and maybe one day I will get around to fixing myself, too.”

the rainbow quartz crystal is soothing, healing, and it radiates positive energy. this reminds me of the time pearl and rose explored earth. it was their first good day, their first safe environment, and they spent that day together. it boosts creativity and clarity, which reminds me of their personalities. rose is very playful with childlike wonder, and this gives her a brilliant imagination. she daydreams a lot, so much that it makes her withdrawn, so much that it can be distressing sometimes. pearl is logical and she was able to take rose’s rambles and jumbled up thoughts and say, “that’s a brilliant idea, here’s how we’re going to do it!” this is why they worked so well together, pearl being rose’s second in command. after the war, they had many successful missions alongside garnet who’s wise and balanced with a lot of leadership qualities, and amethyst who provides a different perspective and is also creative with lots of positivity.

voice

there was this time when we were all very sad about the fact that we never heard rainbow’s voice. in the music video, she obviously couldn’t talk, then they let each other go after the song was over. i think this represents that, while they liked to show off certain aspects of their relationship, they also kept a lot of things private. they didn’t want to share many things and so much of their emotional relationship happened behind closed doors apart from obvious things they kept private.

rose also sounds different in now we’re only falling apart. in we need to talk, greg the babysitter, straight to video, buddy’s book… her voice is much softer. her laugh is much softer. when she was alone with pearl, she spoke loudly and rambled more and allowed herself to speak excitedly. i don’t think rose likes the sound of her voice. i think it’s an insecurity because she knows she’s quite childish sometimes but she wants to be different and she was supposed to be a leader on earth, but she questions if she even sounds like one. she permanently reformed as rose, but she could never change her voice, so it reminds her of pink. her scream once cracked the walls, signifying her pain and everything she’s trying not to be.

but in flashbacks from pearl’s perspective, we see a side of rose that really reminds us of steven! pearl highlights her awkward rambles, her loud and childlike exclaims that she has when she’s excited. pearl loved when rose was like this, she clearly seemed to think it was adorable. this helped rose relax more, but i like to imagine rainbow’s silence being a symbol of the fact that every time rose softened her voice or had an act that was not quite genuine, pearl would notice. she encouraged her to be herself, and the gems loved when she was as playful and genuine as ame is, but there’s still a lot that she’s hiding; still so much she’s ashamed of. it also symbolizes rose’s constant fear of hurting pearl, her guilt of hurting individuals from her past (even with her voice—her scream—itself). when they were together, rose was undoubtedly quite genuine but she definitely still had this fear of saying or doing something wrong and accidentally hurting pearl. sugar said, on page 95 of end of an era, that rose could never trust herself. although she could relax more around pearl, she had such low self esteem that she could never trust herself around anyone, as she feared she would hurt them. with this specific analysis and interpretation, the symbolism is even present in the episode’s title, we need to talk.

that being said, this is just symbolism and remember that rainbow’s actual voice could sound nothing like rose or pearl. a fusion is a completely new individual. we don’t get to hear rainbow’s voice, so we can only headcanon.

concept sketches of rainbow quartz by rebecca sugar and katie mitroff

to conclude…

so, rainbow’s appearance and disposition says so much about pearl and rose’s relationship. however, there is not a lot of information provided, but there’s so much symbolism. as for the section with my headcanons… there’s a bit of information that led me to believe them, but some are simply based on her energy and demeanor.

i love her. rest in peace, rainbow quartz

[motomam1]

MOTOMAMI | valeria's friends

series masterlist | navigation

author's note: this was the bane of my existence (hence why it took so long to post). summing up is not necessarily my strength.

― THE LA FRIEND GROUP

name: benito velasquez date of birth: june 26th, 1998 place of birth: east la, california occupation: pr manager friends since: childhood

Benito didn’t know who I was for the first few years of his childhood. Granted, I didn’t know about him either. It’s funny, really, how we grew up around the same neighbourhood surrounded by the same people and yet neither of us was aware of the other despite our similar age. He’d often hang out at Tía María’s place, more so than he did at his own home, right across the street where I lived. Tía María was a widowed woman who suffered the loss of her husband just recently at that time. She was happy to spoil the children around the neighbourhood since she couldn’t get any of her own. She was everyone’s aunty, parents oftentimes sending their children over to hers whenever it suited them. That’s how I met Benny before I started karting. My dad was occupied in his mechanics shop a lot, hence why I spent most of my time after school hanging out at Tía María’s place as well.

He was a genius when it came to everything social media. I never understood why he was so obsessed with Keeping up with the Kardashians, Britney Spears’ mental breakdown in 2007 and the downfall of Lindsay Lohan. I figured it was his thing just like my thing was racing. However, it wasn’t just a phase for him like many had said. He easily saw through various PR moves and could detect what’s true and what’s fake to deceive the public eye. Sometimes he’d tell me how he’d handle the different scandals if he was their PR manager. I admired him for his vast knowledge.

When I got discovered by Toto Wolff and sent off to further prove myself on the European Circuit, Benny was right behind me to discuss my media presence. It was funny at the beginning how easy it came to him to manage my social media accounts with me together, forming an image of me we both agreed on. I wanted to be as transparent as I was allowed to and he made sure to do exactly that. It didn’t take long for him to become my official PR manager.

name: tyler gregory okonma date of birth: march 6th, 1991 place of birth: hawthorne, california occupation: musician friends since: 2014/2015

Tyler was one of the funniest aspects of my teenagehood. It was during the Vine phase in 2014 when he’d often hang around my neighbourhood, collecting footage for his growing fanbase. I don’t remember exactly how we got to meet, it was more one of those friendships that developed over time by seeing each other often on the streets. He was one of the biggest jokers I had ever met, always making Benny and me laugh about the stupidest stuff. Tyler quickly became like a brother to me, one I had never had since I was an only child. Thankfully, my dad loved Tyler’s annoying ass as well. He’d always joke how Tyler was a lot to handle, but deep down you knew he was fond of the boy because he’d still custom design different parts for Tyler’s car collection.

Tyler would often drive me to my karting tournaments whenever dad didn’t have the time. He was one of my biggest supporters, yelling so loud from the sidelines I could hear his screams over the motor sounds and right through my thick helmet. Since I didn’t have a mom, Tyler acted like a mom on the track. Tyler can be saying the most out of pocket shit to embarrass me when I'm on the podium saying ‘SMILE FOR THE CAMERA HONEY’ but I appreciated him taking his time to come see me despite him gradually gaining more and more fame through his music. 

Tyler would still visit me often in Europe when I started to drive in Formula. I didn’t really fit into the crowd in Europe, so whenever he went overseas he’d make sure to stop by in Brackley. And let me tell you, when Toto first met Tyler he knew he would have this recurring headache for as long as I’m in Mercedes.

name: kali uchis date of birth: july 17, 1994 place of birth: alexandria, virginia occupation: musician friends since: 2018

Kali was the first female friend I had ever had. 

Of course I knew about her music before I met her in person. When I joined Tyler in the studio (he had to pick me up from the karting track beforehand), Kali and I instantly clicked. She was the sweetest soul I had ever met, immediately inviting me to join her in the booth, goofing around with Tyler, who loved to act all sassy with us girls. I wasn’t really musically talented, but it was exciting nevertheless to see the process and thoughts behind creating music.

She became somewhat like an older sister, one I could tell all my girl problems and share girly interests with. Call us chismosas if you want, but when things had gone down in our social circles it was like someone had died, it had to be spilled.

Kali was a graceful woman, one I looked up to a lot. She was confident, always dressed in designer clothes from head to toe and walked with such elegance. She was one of those people that immediately got everyone’s attention when entering a room.

Our bond went beyond friendship; it was a sisterhood, a connection that felt like fate had brought us together. Kali Uchis, my partner in crime and fashion, my confidante, and the ultimate queen of slay.

― THE UK FRIEND GROUP

name: andres felipé barrientos / yung filly date of birth: august 6, 1995 place of birth: cali, colombia occupation: youtuber friends since: 2022

I remember the exact moment where I met Filly for the first time. It was in Abu Dhabi 2022, the last race of my final season in Formula 2. I was close to winning the Formula 2 championship, only one more race to go to secure the title. I had distanced myself from my team to collect my thoughts beforehand, trying to get into the zone, when suddenly a voice came up behind me. 

I didn’t know who he was at that moment, I just remembered him sitting down next to me. ��Oye hablas español? He randomly asked me. That is such a weird question to ask a stranger. I laughed out loud. Not going to lie, Filly can spot a latino from a mile away, which explains why he just sat right next to me like he just spawned into a game while I was having a midlife crisis . Apparently, Filly also didn’t know who I was when first meeting me. But he did a really good job to calm my nerves when noticing how nervous I was, giving me a pep talk after realising I was a driver and what situation I found myself in. To this day I like to joke around that without his pep talk I would’ve only driven half as good.

At the afterparty, I went to search for him in order to thank him for his encouraging words. We clicked instantly when celebrating my win and exchanged numbers to keep in touch furthermore. He’s probably my best friend in England.

name: nella rose date of birth: july 20, 1997 place of birth: belgium occupation: youtuber friends since: 2022

It was at a video shoot when Filly introduced me to Miss Nella Rose. Filly had this knack for bringing people together. Now, Nella, is a genuine human in a world of filters and facades, someone you could be completely real with. In a place where everyone's putting on a show, Nella stood out.

I am lucky to have crossed paths with someone so real, someone who made the crazy F1 world feel a little less daunting. She had this magnetic vibe, you know? Not the flashy, showy kind, but the kind that makes you feel like you're talking to an old friend. We clicked instantly, not in a romantic way, but in a 'I’ve-found-my-ride-or-die-friend' way. 

It wasn't about the glitz and glam of the F1 world or the YouTube fame – it was about two souls connecting, sharing stories, and laughing like there was no tomorrow.

name: amin mohamed / chunkz date of birth: february, 21 1996 place of birth: london, uk occupation: youtuber friends since: 2022

I met Chunkz the same day I met Nella, courtesy of Filly. He was, like the rest of them, so welcoming and incredibly funny. In a world where everyone's trying to one-up each other, his authenticity was a breath of fresh air.

We hit it off immediately, like, we both have this weird obsession with 90s sitcoms level of connection (Fresh Prince of Bel-Air I might add). His laugh, oh my days, it's contagious. We bonded over memes, terrible dance moves, and, of course, our shared love for fast cars. He was more like a 'this dude is my spirit animal' vibe.

So, yeah, meeting Chunkz that day was like gaining a new teammate, someone who made the F1 circuit feel like a family. In the whirlwind of F1 circuits and YouTube fame, he was that unexpected dose of hilarity that made the day memorable. Chunkz, Nella Rose, and me, all meeting on the same day? That's the kind of plot twist you'd expect in a Netflix teen drama, but hey, it happened. 

Life is weird, and sometimes, it's the unexpected friendships that make it hilariously awesome.

name: rúben dos santos gato alves dias date of birth: may 14, 1997 place of birth: amadora, portugal occupation: football player friends since: 2022

The first time I met Rúben, I punched him in the face. Alright, it wasn’t intentional and just a stupid mistake of mine, but thinking about it back now, it’s a pretty funny way to start a friendship.

It was after the Monaco Grand Prix in 2022, so the festivities were quite big and extravagant. However, I was just exhausted up and foremost. Monaco is a great track, but your concentration needs to be at 150% all the time if you want to make it to the end.

So, naturally, I fell asleep on a chair in a more quiet area of the venue where the afterparty took place. Rúben passed me by, noticed me and became concerned for me. He didn’t know whether I passed out from drinking or not, shaking me to see if I was fine. Are you alright? Should I call someone? Should I drive you home? Startled by this unknown stranger waking me up, I punched him in the face when I came to my senses all disoriented. I felt really bad, and so did he. I think we apologised to each other about a dozen times, going back and forth.

As an apology, I invited him for lunch the next time I was in England. We talked a lot about similar interests, about both of our busy schedules and the fast life of being an athlete. He said he’d invite me to one of his games since he saw me racing but I’ve never seen him play. To be honest, football wasn’t something I was very familiar with, so Rúben was keen on explaining the sport to me. 

I knew I had found a new friend in him when I laughed so much with him I nearly lost consciousness from the lack of breathing.

― THE FORMULA FRIEND GROUP

name: lewis hamilton date of birth: january 7, 1957 place of birth: stevenage, uk occupation: formula one driver friends since: 2020

When Toto came up to me and made me join the Mercedes Junior Team, my hopes of seeing Lewis Hamilton rose drastically. He was, and is, one of the biggest names in Motorsport and an idol to many younglings in the sport, me included. 

I didn’t meet him the first year of staying at Brackley. I was still getting used to adjusting to England, its culture and operating the simulator. Our first unofficial meeting happened in the simulator. I was driving, humming All Eyes On Me by 2Pac when someone behind me said ‘You could’ve taken that turn a little sharper on the apex.’ I didn’t know it was him at the time, too startled by the sudden comment to realise who it came from. His presence made me crash into the barriers. 

So when I actually saw him visit the facility in Brackley for the first time, I nearly suffered a heart attack. Toto introduced us, laughing at me when I started to stutter in front of Lewis. I remember my cheeks burning out of embarrassment and hands shaking out of nervosity. I was that nervous I had started speaking in an English accent, that’s when I had to shut up. I think my brain actually stopped working for a second when Lewis said he’d know of me and seen some of my races. 

When he became my teammate in the 2023 season, I was beyond the moon excited to work with such an icon. The things I’ve learned and am still learning from him made me grow incredibly as a driver. He’s like a mentor to me, continuing to teach me new things with such enthusiasm, he really keeps me motivated and focused.

name: logan sargeant date of birth: december 31, 2000 place of birth: fort lauderdale, florida occupation: formula one driver friends since: 2019

Oh, Logan Sargeant, where do I even begin with this guy? We go way back, back to the Formula 3 days when we were tearing up the tracks alongside Felipe Drugovich. Logan and I clicked faster than Wi-Fi in a room full of tech geeks. We're both from the States, different coasts but same vibe, you know? We practically dragged Felipe into our adventures everywhere we went.

Even though our ways as teammates parted after one season, we stayed tight. We spent a lot of time together outside of the paddock. Whether it was eating out or visiting the other over summer and winter break in the US:  Burgers, beach trips, and a lot of dad jokes (thanks to my old man’s enthusiasm for Logan) – our friendship just kept growing. And guess what? Destiny had more mischief in store for us. From late-night strategy talks to spontaneously exploring new cities, we’ve turned every race weekend into an adventure. My father grew quite fond of Logan, Logan’s enthusiasm for the US matching my dad’s enthusiasm for Mexico. 

Fast forward to Formula 1, and bam, we're rookie teammates again, this time with Oscar Piastri thrown into the chaos, he had no other choice but to tag along with us. Forming the ‘2023 Rookies’ group, we were hellbend to become even more iconic than the 2019 rookies. It's like we're on a mission to turn the F1 grid into our playground and so far, dare I say we’re doing a good job at it? Fuck yeah. We’re hell-bent on making our mark, not just on the tracks but in the F1 history books.

name: oscar piastri date of birth: april 21, 2001 place of birth: melbourne, australia occupation: formula one driver friends since: 2020

Ah, Oscar Piastri, my first F2 teammate in 2021. We'd already crossed paths in Formula 3, but back then, he was about as outgoing as a hermit crab. Fast forward a year, and fate decided we should be on the same team. I mean, talk about a plot twist, right? So, here's this dude, quiet as a library on a Sunday morning, and suddenly, we're sharing the same garage.

The first time we actually talked to each other was after our first race of the season. We sat in two ice baths next to each other when he made the first move and quietly tried to start a conversation. I was so caught up in my thoughts that I didn’t even realise he was talking to me. It took him a second try to catch my attention, and then it was like he had opened Pandora's box: I would not shut up for one second after we really got into conversation. I was telling him all the gossip from back home, all the shit that annoyed me, literally everything because he was willing to listen to me rant away. 

Oscar Piastri, the man of few words but here for the vibes, became more than a teammate – he became that friend who’d silently judge my questionable music choices and then secretly listen to the same music when he thought no one was watching. It's funny how the quiet ones always surprise you the most, right. That became our dynamic: Me talking his ear off and him listening like his life depended on it. Sometimes I would feel bad for saying so much, but Oscar seemed to be actually interested in hearing about my issues and thoughts.   When entering Formula 1 together with Logan, we obviously stuck together a lot as the new rookies. We became the 2023 rookies, the gen Z version of the 2019 rookies. Logan and I were the loud ones, the ones adopting our introverted friend and dragging him with us everywhere. So here's to Oscar, the Aussie from down under for making racing not just about speed, but also about laughter and unexpected friendship.

name: andrea kimi antonelli date of birth: august 25, 2006 place of birth: bologna, italy occupation: motor racing driver friends since: 2019

Becoming part of the Mercedes Junior Team in 2018 and moving from East LA to Brackley, I knew what it felt like to leave your life behind and start anew in a different country. When I first noticed Kimi appearing at the facilities a year later, I immediately felt my heart ache for him. He was new, still somewhat shy and kept to himself a lot. Remembering the same situation I found myself in a year prior, I made it my mission to help him get accustomed to his new surroundings. So I found the only solution possible, I adopted him as my Formula son. 

We grew close relatively fast, him loving to annoy the shit out of me and use me as an ATM machine whenever we went out together. I loved spoiling him from time to time, treating him like the little hermano he is to me. 

And like the big sister I am, obviously I visited him at his races as much as I could. Vice versa, he’d come to a few of mine as well. I always invited him as my guest, but little Kimi was too shy to meet the senior team and the older grid. I would literally have to drag him to socialise a bit more, reassuring him that none of them would bite him. He’s literally part of the team as well, so why was he acting all shy.

2022 was a big year for both of us, one I like to think back to. With me racing my way up the F2 drivers standings, Kimi was doing the same in F4. Both of us ended up winning the championships simultaneously, I had never been more proud of my little padawan.

tag list: @tpwkstiles @dessxoxsworld @lorarri @elliegrey2803 @inejghafawifesblog @daaiissyyyyy @viennakarma @cha-hot ➫ comment or leave a message in my inbox if you'd like to be added

[hello-there33]

Introduction :)

Okay so this is my backup account and idk what ill do if both get t-worded. I'll probably just cry.

I'm not comfortable sharing my name so u can call me whatever you'd like, or just Lewis.

I like art, music and reading but I dont read a lot rn.

I'm mostly just gonna vent on here and I'll c3ns0re quite a lot because I'm scared of getting caught by tumblrs guards.

Also I might talk about 4n4 but I dont promote it. Neither do I promote any mental 1llness or $h method. It's just my expirience.

Pls bl0ck me, dont r3p0rt me. This is the space I can outlet my emotions.

Uh I'm not sure but I think I can receive messages on this account as well as answer them. If u want u can always dm me as long as you dont want fotos. And umm if I tell u my age per message pls keep it a secret, I dont want people on here to know.

Thank u if u read all this, stay safe and know u r loved. ^^

Uhh idk if I should state my original account but uh yea. :')

[x-press-it]

Devilish Desires - 4/9?

Dangerous Temptations, Irresistible Touch 🎞️❤️‍🔥🌹⚔️🖤💻🖱️

Sub!Logan Howlett x Dom!OC (They/Them)

Summary: Logan, typically guarded and dominant, finds himself captivated by E, a mysterious being with a devilish allure and ancient presence that challenges his control.

Context: This story unfolds 'within' the "Days of Future Past" new timeline, during Logan's early years as a history teacher at Xavier’s School. It’s set well before his consciousness from the original timeline reconnects with him in 2023, as seen at the film’s end.

Content Warnings (for the whole story): Smut 18+ (Dry humping, Edging, Unprotected p in v.) - Dom!Logan into Sub!Logan - Pet Names (Good boy, pretty boy, pet, pup, amongst others...) reversed age gap (Logan is younger) - OC Notes: Established name, backstory, powers, fighting style, female body but gender fluid character (Logan misgender them at first because he doesn't know, even in the descriptions) - Mention of other character from the MCU and subtle references to the comics for flavor (not mandatory to understand what is happening) - Flash back and mention of past trauma - Fluff with Dark Undertones: Emotional tension and possessive affection - Worship Themes: Religious imagery, reverent language and awe - Ancient Mysticism: References to otherworldly or demonic presence - Mental Health: Power dynamics, personal vulnerabilities - Trope: Rivals to lovers. I'm back after 10 years of iatus and fairly new to how things are done on tumblr now, so sorry if I missed any warnings. Also english isn't my first language so there might be typos/weird sentences...

Notes: Got very inspired by sub!Logan and repeated listening of "Between wind and water" by Hael. Cover made with canva from an idea I got from this post. If you know who made the picture, tell me so I can credit them - Click on the divider to find the creator. Also this was meant to be an imagine turned into a full story. Just so you know, some chapters are very short, other are long. I'm in the process of editing/writing/rewriting parts so I'll post a chapter everytime I have one fully edited. This was another hard chapter to edit/rewrite, but I did it ^^ I hope you guys like fighting/sparring scenes ^^" Ok, let's feed that hunger, shall we? ;)

Need some music? I've got you

Previously: in Devilish Desires

Chapters: 4/9?

Word Count: 9.9K / 50K+ for now

In the days that followed their meeting in the library, E kept their distance from Logan. They must have been tangled up with all the contract adjustments and whatever else came with their mysterious agenda, or at least that’s what he assumed. Logan couldn’t say he minded their absence; if anything, the tension between his shoulders had finally started to ease, and his routine felt a little less invaded.

He hardly saw them around the mansion. E would appear in passing, usually on their way to Charles’s office or briefly dipping into the library, but they seemed to vanish as quickly as they appeared. They never crossed paths otherwise. Not in the gym, where he’d half-expected to catch them training, nor in the kitchen, where they always managed to get there before him and leave behind only faint traces—a mug in the sink, an empty coffee pot. Even Ororo, who spent most of her time outside tending to the gardens, mentioned she hadn’t seen them lingering around the grounds. And as the days dragged on, Logan felt the empty space they’d left lingering.

A part of him was curious now, his wariness easing as he'd learned more about them. He’d gotten a glimpse of them beneath that composed exterior, enough to see that they weren’t the threat he’d originally thought, maybe even enough to say they weren't so different from each other—if he squinted. Their goals didn’t seem so far from his, and neither did their need for freedom. He found himself wondering, almost against his will, what they were doing when they weren’t working. It didn’t sit right, not knowing.

And soon enough, he realized he’d started keeping an eye out for them. Them, the person who’d been in his face day in and day out for weeks, was now barely a shadow in the mansion’s daily rhythm. It was… odd, and the feeling only grew with each day they didn’t cross paths.

But then, on the fifth day after their meeting, Logan’s curiosity finally got a break when Charles called the team to his office. He could sense something was coming—the air in the room was thick with it. The team gathered, shifting uneasily, the only absentees being the three younger members. Logan leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his gaze as sharp as ever as he watched each person in the room. His eyes kept circling back to E, who stood slightly off to the side, their expression a wall of carefully constructed calm. They didn’t look at him or anyone else, a clear signal they weren’t here to play nice.

Charles cleared his throat, drawing their attention as he settled behind his desk. “I’ve called you all here to discuss an important matter regarding the security of the school.”

Logan’s gaze narrowed, his instincts already piecing together that this had to do with E. Sure enough, Charles’ steady look swept across the team, his voice carrying a calm authority. “It has been decided that E will be training with you all from now on. They won’t be part of the team, but as they work here at the school and have the right to defend it, it’s important for everyone to understand their abilities. In case of an attack, we all need to be on the same page.”

The discomfort in the room was tangible. Everyone shifted, casting skeptical glances at E, who remained silent, almost impassive. Their appearance looked more severe today—dull skin and eyes, their horns lacking their usual shine, and their hair pulled back in a tight bun. They wore mostly black, save for a few touches of dark red, with no jewelry and only the barest hint of makeup. Jean watched them closely, brows furrowing as she tried to read their thoughts, but E’s sharp glare in her direction made it clear that wall wasn’t coming down.

Scott was the first to voice his hesitation, clearing his throat as he looked between Charles and E. “Is that really necessary? We’ve never had any outsiders train with us before.”

Logan couldn’t help the low chuckle that slipped out. “Forgot about me, Summers? I was an outsider once, too.” The words hung in the air for a heartbeat before he cast a quick glance at E. Just as he expected, their attention—once fixed on their perfectly manicured red nails—flickered to his, briefly meeting his gaze before quickly looking away, the moment slipping by as quickly as it had come.

If they weren’t friends, Scott would’ve probably fried him with his visor for that comment, but Charles remained patient as he waited for the room to settle. “E works alongside us here,” he said, voice steady but unyielding. “They have every right to protect the students, just as we do.” His gaze swept over each person, settling on them a moment longer than necessary. “It’s important we trust one another in times of crisis.”

Logan’s gaze drifted back to E. They stood rigid, a subtle tension in their posture that hadn’t been there before. If he was reading them right, they didn’t want to be here any more than the team wanted them here. It wasn’t just distance, it was a quiet wariness, like they were on guard against everyone, Charles being the only exception. Even Jean’s curiosity only earned another glare from E, a silent warning to stay out of their head.

As the murmurs of agreement wrapped up the meeting, Logan lingered, eyes settling on E. He wasn’t wary of them anymore, not exactly, but something about them made him curious. He’d seen a glimpse of who they were under that mask. He wasn’t sure he trusted them yet, but he respected them—at least enough to want to see more of what they were capable of. And there was that other thing, too; he’d noticed it in the faint shadows under their eyes and the worn edges of their aura. Whatever was keeping them going seemed to be running thin.

“Hey,” he called out before they could leave. They turned slowly, an eyebrow raised, the only indication they’d heard him.

“When d’you have time to spar?” he asked, trying to read their reaction.

Their face barely shifted, but he could see a glint of amusement behind their guarded look. “Right now, actually,” they replied, their voice steady and even. “Unless you’re busy.”

Logan pushed off the wall, straightening his posture. “I’ve got time.”

They nodded, excusing themselves to change and, twenty minutes later, they met him at the bottom of the staircase. They were both now dressed in gear more suitable for what lay ahead, and Logan couldn’t help but notice the way their presence had shifted from the last time they spoke—the carefully polished exterior was there, but the energy behind it was dimmed, like they were holding something back. As they stepped outside, Logan led them to a secluded corner of the grounds, far from prying eyes. The shaded glade lay far from the main paths, ensuring no students or teachers would wander by, a quiet space with plenty of room to move freely.

As they reached the clearing, he rolled his shoulders, flexing his arms and testing his range of motion with a low, almost eager hum in his throat. “Alright,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

E’s lips curved into a faint smile, tight at the edges, as they removed their shoes, grounding themselves in the cool grass. Logan studied them, and it seemed like even the glint in their eyes was dimmer than he remembered; they looked tired, worn.

“You sure you’re feelin’ up for this?” he taunted. “Look a little beat.”

At those words, a faint smirk tugged at their lips, a dangerous spark lighting in their eyes—not quite playful, but charged with a hint of anticipation as they settled a few feet from him, their toes curling slightly in the green blades. “Looks can be deceiving,” they stated, their eyes narrowing with a brief, steely flash. “So don’t hold back.”

Logan chuckled, a low growl under his breath . “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

They shifted into their stances, circling each other slowly, and Logan took a moment to assess them, noting their balance and posture, looking for signs of fatigue or hesitation. E looked drained, their skin and eyes lacking the usual intensity, their expression guarded but when they lunged forward, it was with a speed and grace that took him off guard. They were light on their feet, with an economy of motion that spoke of years of training. Even so, they lacked their usual edge. He’d felt their agility before—those brief, charged touches when they went after him over the past couple of weeks. But now, with their first steps, he saw a whole new side to them.

As Logan moved in, he blocked their strike, and the force behind it surprised him. They were damn quick, and strong enough to make him realize he couldn’t take this lightly. He dodged a swift kick, aiming a punch in return, but they twisted smoothly out of his reach, moving with a precision that was… stunning.

A flicker of respect—maybe even awe—stirred in him, and he noticed the shift almost immediately. E’s movements, initially strong, suddenly sharpened, a faint glow sparking in their eyes as they draw strength from his reaction. Each impressed thought, every ounce of admiration, pulse under their skin like fuel, strengthening them further.

Their smile widened, feeling the strength coursing through them now, a flash of teeth as they spun around him, arms a flurry of open-palmed strikes and swift fists. Logan blocked most of them, dodging the rest. They weren’t just good—they were damn good. And as his recognition grew, he felt an odd, almost tangible energy radiating off them, a surge that seemed to seep from the esteem they stirred in him.

“Not bad,” he grunted, his breath steady despite the exertion. The thrill of a real challenge was humming through his veins, the kind that made his blood come alive. But he couldn’t ignore that other feeling creeping in, like something slipping just beyond his control, something wild and powerful in E that his respect seemed to unlock.

They closed in again, and as their bodies met, Logan realized just how agile they were. It wasn’t only that they were fast; it was the precision of each movement, the way they slipped around his strikes like water weaving through rock. He found himself pushed harder, each dodge and block requiring his full attention.

Their style was unlike anything he’d seen before: smooth, swift, each movement flowing into the next like a performer weaving between shadows. There was a seamlessness to their steps, an exotic grace laced with foreign influences he couldn’t quite place—Arabic, maybe, or something even older. As they exchanged blow after blow, it felt like choreography, mesmerizing—E’s motions were fluid and graceful, carrying a rhythm and elegance that Logan could respect, even as he fought to keep up. This wasn’t just skill; it was... Art. And the more he admired it, the stronger they became, each spark of his interest feeding into their movements like an unseen force binding them.

Realization struck him like a blow—yes, they were good, but their power was intensifying, fueled by him.

He’d heard of mutants who could channel the emotions of others, drawing strength from positive thoughts like attention and interest. But feeling it now—feeling their strength mirror his thoughts… it was unlike anything he’d experienced.

They were more than a match for him, and his respect for their skill, their grit, surged. The moment that thought crossed his mind, E’s strikes grew even faster, their focus intensifying, and he was almost sure of it now. His every impressed reaction were seeping into them, fueling their intensity.

Their strikes picked up speed, and Logan found himself on the defensive more than he’d anticipated. They were fucking sharp. For every hit he blocked, two more came at him from new angles, as if they were testing him, pushing him to see just how far they could go. And with each strike, with every dodge, their energy grew, their fatigue seemed to melt away. The fire in their eyes reignited, and their form tightened, honed into something intense and unyielding.

He went in close, using his instincts to counter their movements, but with each passing moment, he witnessed how his respect only made them stronger. It was mesmerizing—and unsettling. The bond felt tangible, like an invisible current between them, and it was taking on a life of its own.

Logan ducked under a high kick, his instincts leading the way, and countered with a low sweep that nearly knocked them off-balance. E rolled out of reach, landing on their feet with a fluid twist that made Logan pause, even for just a fraction of a second. The way they moved was intoxicating—a mix of elegance and deadly purpose that sparked something inside him. He couldn’t help it; for a split moment, he was simply watching them, almost spellbound.

But there was no time to linger. E closed the distance with a burst of energy, a flurry of controlled, powerful strikes, fists and open palms, that had Logan moving on impulse alone. Each hit was controlled, precise, but damn, the force behind them kept him on his toes, like they were trying to push him to his limits. And maybe, deep down, he wanted them to. He blocked, deflected, and when he caught their wrist mid-swing, he allowed a small, knowing smirk to flicker across his face. That’s when he saw it—the glint of mischief in their eyes, quick and bold. E twisted out of his grasp with a move so smooth it felt like he’d tried to catch water.

Logan tightened his grip as they shifted, pulling them back to him, but the moment their faces were mere inches apart, time seemed to pause. Their eyes were locked onto his, unflinching and intense. There was something fierce there, a silent challenge that pulled at something deeper inside him, stoking the embers in his guts. It was like they were daring him, testing him not just as an opponent but as someone who understood the fire behind their eyes.

E must have seen the battle between reason and desire flicker in his gaze because they seized the moment, breaking free in a swift motion. Logan let them go, both impressed and curious, wanting to see what they’d do next. They didn’t waste a second, attacking with renewed vigor, moving like a force of nature, their body a seamless weapon of precision and raw determination. Logan could feel the shift—a resolve in them, the power that had been lying dormant now fully awakened. They weren’t holding back anymore, weren’t playing it safe. The series of blows they threw with rapid precision drew him into that primal place where his instincts ruled, and he was forced to meet them there, letting the feral part in him slip closer to the surface. The thrill of it sparked through his veins like wildfire.

“Alright,” he growled under his breath, almost laughing as he absorbed another blow and stepped back, chest heaving. “So you’re not playin’ around.”

Their eyes glimmered, never breaking eye contact, that confident grin tugging at their lips. They let out a breathy laugh, low and challenging. “You finally noticed?” they teased, their voice smooth with the thrill of the fight. There was something almost predatory in the way they held his gaze, the way they readied themselves for the next round. The air between them was tight, charged, every breath a shared battle. They circled each other once more, both panting heavily now, both intent, and Logan shifted his stance, ready for whatever came next.

He braced himself as they lunged, and this time, he met them head-on, gripping their fist mid-swing. The impact sent a shock through them both, a raw electricity that stilled the moment. E didn’t pull back, and neither did he. The space between them buzzed with an unspoken understanding—a recognition of equals, of opponents who respected each other enough to give everything.

Logan’s gaze drifted over their features, taking in the fierce focus, the glint in their eyes that had come alive in the heat of combat. He could feel his own pulse thundering in his chest, the thrill of the challenge, the sheer admiration for their skill. Whoever they were, whatever their story, they were damn impressive.

Their faces stayed close, eyes locked in a dance of silent words and wild, racing thoughts. He realized then, amidst the push and pull, that they weren’t just sparring. They were testing each other, challenging what they thought they knew.

When they finally broke apart, their breath heavy, Logan took in the slight rise and fall of their chest, the gleam of sweat on their neck. He let out a slow, impressed hum. “You weren’t holdin’ back, were ya?” His voice was low, rough with something more than exertion.

“Not my style.” E’s sly smile was full of restrained satisfaction. “But I thought you’d be a little faster, Wolverine,” they taunted, breathing hard, a mischievous edge to their tone.

Logan chuckled, the sound more rumble than laugh. He rolled his shoulders, a smirk playing on his lips as he nodded. “And you’re better than I thought. Maybe I misjudged ya.” The admission came with its own weight, but it felt right. “Wasn’t expectin’ you to get that fired up.”

And there it was again, that pull in the air between them, a flash of mutual acknowledgment that only seemed to heighten E’s energy. It hung in the air like an invisible thread, binding them to something that was no longer just a sparring match.

“Guess you bring out the best in me,” E added, their voice softer now but no less charged as they straightened, wiping a sheen of sweat from their brow.

This fight, this moment, was more than just a test of strength; it felt like a line had been crossed, an unspoken understanding forged in the heat of battle. Logan’s heart skipped a beat in his chest, and for once, he didn’t bother suppressing the feeling. He’d had his fair share of fights, of sparring matches, but this had felt different—charged, almost like a trial, a test that had changed something between them.

He let a smirk tug at the corner of his lips. “Seems like we both do, huh?”

Their gaze glinted, a hint of mischief mixed with something he couldn’t quite place. “Careful,” they said, voice low, “You might actually start liking me.”

He shook his head, though a glint of something warmer shone in his eyes. “Don’t go gettin’ ideas. I still don’t trust ya,” he said, though there was a reluctant admiration in his tone. “But I can’t deny you’ve got skills.”

They both stood there in the quiet clearing, the tension between them heavy and electric. It wasn’t just the fight that left him on edge—it was that undeniable force that surged through them, the energy that seemed to bloom under his attention, his respect.

They held his gaze a moment longer, something unspoken passing between them. And finally, E’s expression softened, the intensity in their eyes dimming as they nodded slightly. “You ever want another round, you know where to find me,” they said before turning on their heels, the tension between them lingering like the echo of a battle not quite over.

As they walked away, carrying their shoes in one hand, Logan felt a strange pull, something magnetic urging him forward, a reflexive need to know more. Before he could think better of it, he called out after them, half-jogging to close the distance. E paused, glancing back with a raised eyebrow and a hint of amusement in their eyes.

They were checking their phone, frowning at a few missed calls, their thumb hovering over the screen to call back. But before they could hit the button, Logan spoke up, his voice steady despite the racing of his heart. “When d’you reckon we could do this again?”

They looked up, and for a second, there was a gleam of something mischievous in their eyes, a playful spark that was hard to miss. Their lips curved, and that teasing smile tugged at him in a way that caught him off guard. “Oh, can’t get enough of me now, huh, pretty boy?”

Logan felt a tingle in his gut, the playful edge in their voice threw him for a second, that casual nickname landing unexpectedly. They made him feel like he was fifteen again, trying to play it cool in front of someone who seemed way out of his league—a completely new feeling for him. A part of him wanted to fire something back, maybe a quip about how he wasn’t in it for them, but for their skills. But he deflected instead, maintaining his composure. “I want to know more about your style. It’d be good for the team. Could give us an edge, y’know?”

“Good for the team,” E echoed, amusement flashing in their gaze as they cocked their head, weighing him. “If you say so.”

They turned their phone over in their hand, clearly tempted to tease him further, but before they could say anything, he cut them off, “Remember the training sessions Charles mentioned in the meeting? Did he told you about the Danger Room?”

E raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at their lips. “I might have heard of it… but maybe you could tell me a little more?”

Logan nodded, sensing an opportunity. “Well, it’s…let’s just say it’s our own personal, high-stakes training ground. If you want, I can walk you through it sometime.”

E considered him for a moment, their posture straightening as they regained their composure. “Alright. How about we meet back here tonight, after dinner, for some sparring again, and then you can tell me more about this danger room you’re talking about.”

“Tonight, huh?” he said, a hint of a smirk returning. “Yeah, I can make that work.”

“Good,” they murmured, their hand brushing his arm as they stepped past him, a fleeting, electrifying touch that sent a shiver through his skin. It was nothing—a casual touch—but it was enough to spark that strange charge between them again, something he could feel deep in his gut.

“See you tonight, then,” E said with a half-smile, their voice low, almost intimate. They turned, heading back toward the mansion with that damn sway in their step, every move as deliberate as their fighting style, leaving him there, watching and feeling just a bit off-balance. He couldn’t shake the feeling that, tonight, he was in for more than just another spar.

Logan was no stranger to being haunted by his thoughts, and most of the time, it was his past. But this was different—it wasn’t memories lingering in his head, it was someone alive and present, shifting through his thoughts like they had every right to be there. He’d spent the better part of the day moving from task to task, hoping that the routine would get his head on straight. He’d given three history lectures to classes who looked mostly bored out of their minds, walked the mansion perimeter twice, and even joined Hank in the lab for a solid hour before irritation got the best of him.

And still, every damn time he tried to clear his head, they were there. E. A quiet thrill snuck through him at the memory of their last spar, at the way they’d moved with that sharpened focus, picking up on his admiration like they could feel it.

Which they probably could. If his suspicions were right, E could sense admiration the way he could sense a lie—and that alone was a reason to keep his distance. But he hadn’t, not really. He’d leaned into it, watching the way they seemed to glow under his attention. That look in their eyes when they caught his gaze? Couldn’t shake it.

Damn it, it was making him question everything.

You’re not some lovesick puppy, bub, he thought, dragging his hand through his hair, frustrated. Get your head on straight.

E wasn’t his responsibility, not in the usual sense. He wasn’t there to watch over them or protect them. That wasn’t his job. Not that they needed him to, anyway. But the pull they had on him—some strange mix of curiosity and something else—wasn’t something he could easily shake off. He wasn’t sure if it was admiration, attraction, or something more dangerous, but it gnawed at him all the same.

Things never ended well when he got close, especially with someone like them. It was better, safer, to keep his instincts in check.

But still, when he thought about seeing them again, it felt like a twist in his gut, like he was waiting for something he couldn’t name, something primal. It was maddening, intoxicating—a feeling he hated as much as he longed for. And he couldn’t help himself.

His thoughts braught him back to them again, as he remembered the way E’s strikes had picked up speed, their movements sharpening with every surge of his admiration. The memory sent a chill down his spine. His jaw clenched as his mind raced. The urge to spar again—to see how far he could push them, what more they could become—tugged at him. But damn it, he had to remind himself to focus. He was here, not in the damn glade.

“Get ahold of yourself, damn it,” he muttered, hoping the sound of his voice might help break the spell. “You’ve got enough ghosts followin’ you around, don’t go invitin’ another.”

But E wasn’t a ghost. They were sharp, present, and so fucking alive. He didn’t want to admit it, but that made all the difference. This wasn’t some lingering regret or phantom from his past. It was real. And that made everything harder.

It wasn’t just his admiration—it was the way they challenged him, the way they made him feel. That pull, that instinctive response—it was there, simmering under the surface. And maybe that was what scared him the most.

Because even now, he couldn’t decide if it was them or their powers making him feel this way. The pull was real, but was it them? Or just some side effect of them feeding off his admiration?

Damn it. Logan clenched his fists, trying to shake it off. But no matter how much he fought it, E’s presence lingered, just out of reach, but never really gone. They weren’t his responsibility, not really—but hell if his instincts weren’t practically begging to make them his.

Hours dragged on, the sun dipping lower in the sky, but Logan found himself waiting for night to come. Waiting for the next sparring session. His body was wound tight, focus frayed, and he knew damn well it was because of them. No matter how hard he tried to pull himself back, some part of him was already leaning forward, eager to step into that clearing again, to see how much further they could go, how much more they could push each other.

His reason fought to resist, but he honestly wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep fighting it.

Logan settled into his seat in the dining room, but he wasn’t really there. He’d forced himself to join the others for dinner, hoping that the casual chatter would ground him, help shake E from his mind. But as plates clattered and conversations flowed, he found his thoughts still circling back to them—and to the way their strength had fed off his admiration. It gnawed at him, that feeling he’d fueled them somehow, that his respect had made them stronger, sharper. A part of him didn’t want to go down that road, but damn if he wasn’t already obsessing about the next sparring session, counting down the minutes.

He tried to focus on the idle talk around the table, but most of it only seemed to make his hackles rise. People were talking about E—debating whether they’d be joining the team in the future or if this was just a one-off thing. To them, it felt like E was edging their way in, and they didn’t like it. He could see the unease in Bobby’s frown, the way Marie’s gaze flitted to him, clearly feeling out where he stood on all this.

Eventually, the young woman turned to him, her brow raised in question. “So, Logan… what d’you make of her?” she asked, misgendering E without a second thought. “You’ve spent more time with her than the rest of us. ”

His reaction was swift and sharp, his tone a bit harsher than intended. “Them,” he corrected, voice edged. He took a steadying breath, reigning himself back. “They prefer ‘them.’”

Marie and Kitty exchanged a glance at that, a silent conversation that didn’t escape his notice. He forced himself to ignore it, though the sting of irritation remained, mingling with a faint, unexpected defensiveness. He wasn’t the type to stand on ceremony or correct people just to be polite. Still, he wasn’t going to stand by and let them talk about E without a damn bit of respect. But again, why the hell did he feel like he needed to stick up for them?

He tried to keep his tone casual as he shrugged, downplaying it like he didn’t care one way or another. “They’re alright. They’ve helped me out with some legal work, actually. Seems like they know what they’re doing. We sparred too… they’ve got a style that’s different. Pretty sharp. Could be good for you all to pick up some of that.”

The more he spoke, the harder it became to keep the admiration out of his voice. It wasn’t just that they were capable—there was something in the way they moved, the way they fought. Respect had never come easily to him, but with E, it was there, raw and undeniable.

Kitty raised an eyebrow, intrigued, and Logan felt a small spark of irritation as she leaned in. “What’s so special about it?”

He tried to keep it casual but the words flew out of him before he could stop them. “It’s… fast, strong, fluid… almost like watching something crafted. Like art.” Damn it. He hadn’t meant to let so much appreciation slip through, but it was hard to ignore how their moves had lingered in his mind all day.

His comment hung in the air, and he could see the others’ gazes shift toward him, noting how his tone had softened. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, feeling a bit exposed under their scrutiny.

“What’s their power, though?” Bobby asked, curiosity written across his face.

Before Logan could even think of a response, a smooth voice coming from the doorway cut him off. “Don’t you know it’s rude to ask a lady about their powers?”

Logan turned, catching sight of E leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over their chest, a teasing smirk on their lips. They looked different than they had after sparring earlier—not as radiant, but still damn good, with that casual confidence that could set anyone on edge. They had changed again, now in some kind of foreign traditional outfit, somehow looking both beautiful and dangerous as their gaze shifted over each face at the table.

Bobby’s cheeks flushed pink at E’s words, and he fumbled for a response, while Marie shot them a half-hearted glare. Logan didn’t miss the slight flicker in E’s expression—a hint of something softer, like a crack in their armor, but it was gone in an instant, too quick for anyone else to catch.

Ororo was the first to break the silence. “What brings you here, E?”

E straightened, sauntering into the room with an air of nonchalance, though their smirk said otherwise, metal chiming on their ankles and wrists. “Sorry to interrupt,” they said, though the smirk made it clear they weren’t sorry at all. “I’m just here for Logan,” they added when reaching him, their hand finding his shoulder and resting there, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Logan’s frown deepened at their words and actions—like they owned him, like he’d just been summoned. Something primal flared within him at the look in their eyes, and he fought to keep his own expression in check, unwilling to let that part of himself show.

“We had another sparring session planned,” he explained quickly, shrugging off their hand, his tone a bit too abrupt. He didn’t want them getting any strange ideas about what this was.

E gave a small nod, a glint of mischief in their eyes. “Yes, a sparring session,” they repeated, voice low and almost playful. Their gaze lingered on him for just a beat too long, that glint sending his instincts flaring.

They turned with a casual wave of their hand, bracelets chiming with the motion, before glancing back at him over their shoulder as they sauntered back toward the hallway. “I’ll be outside. Don’t take too long,” they tossed back with a wink, disappearing around the corner.

The room went quiet as E left, the tension hanging thick in the air. Logan forced himself to finish his meal, trying to ignore the eyes on him. He could practically feel the questions lingering unsaid, the looks exchanged behind his back. But he kept his focus on his plate, forcing himself to eat slowly even as impatience thrummed beneath his skin. Finally, he excused himself, heading into the kitchen to put his dishes in the dishwasher before slipping out the back.

When Logan reached the clearing, he found E sitting cross-legged in the grass, the deep black of their tunic blending with the shadows, disturbed only by the dark red sash at their waist. When they shifted, the golden and crimson bracelets at their wrists and ankles chimed softly, each note cutting through the quiet night. Even their hair and makeup, immaculately done, added an edge to their poised, lethal beauty—a sharp contrast to the rawness of their last sparring session.

They looked like they were dressed to perform and, for a few heartbeats, he was mesmerized. They were utterly still, chest rising and falling so slowly that they could almost pass for a statue, something sculpted by a master, with an eye for each curve and line. The moonlight washed over them, casting an ethereal glow that only added to the aura around them, one part mystery, one part raw strength.

They had felt him, of course. He didn’t have to make a sound; the energy rolling off him was enough. A faint, knowing smile blossomed on their red-painted lips, soft at first, then sharper as it settled. Eyes still closed, they spoke, their voice smooth as silk in the quiet night. “I’m glad we’re doing this again, Logan.” They paused, savoring the weight of his gaze. “I couldn’t focus all day. You… lingered.”

Logan felt his pulse kick up a notch, his mind flicking back to his own restless day—the way he’d had to force himself to push through the usual motions, when all he really wanted was to get back here, back to them. He tried to keep his expression steady, giving a small shrug as he stepped closer. “Your style’s… intriguing,” he said, hoping it sounded casual, unaffected. But he knew better, and they did too; the spark of warmth they felt from him seemed to seep into their own energy, feeding them.

They savored it, and now he could tell. He watched as something in them shifted, as if they were becoming more than they had been a moment earlier, like his presence and attention added a new depth to their form. Finally, they opened their golden-hooded eyes, meeting his gaze head-on. The shimmer of the powder accentuated the sharpness of their stare, turning it into something almost regal.

Rising to their feet with the delicate chime of metal, they moved with an effortless grace, stretching in a way that was deliberate, flexing their muscles as though reminding him of what he was about to face. “It’s called kalaripayattu,” E said, their voice steady. “It was my foundation. But… it changed, especially in Turkey.” Their gaze darkened momentarily, a flicker of something painful passing through their expression before it settled into a smirk, masking the past. “Not all evolutions come from the best places.”

Logan's jaw tightened at the admission, a familiar pang settling low in his chest. He’d seen that look before—the one that spoke of scars hidden under skin, memories too heavy to carry yet impossible to drop. The urge to say something, to tell them he understood that kind of burden, nearly surfaced, but he bit it back. This wasn’t the moment for words; they both knew that. Instead, he nodded, letting the unspoken understanding hang between them as he rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck as he watched them, that low hum of anticipation lighting up in him again.

E grounded themselves, digging their toes into the grass like they did before their last fight, finding their balance in a way that was both practiced and primal. Their stance shifted, flowing into something new—a crouched position, one leg stretched back and the other supporting them low to the ground, arms raised toward the sky, palms pressed together, like a warrior in prayer. The pose was unexpected, striking, and undeniably dangerous.

“You ready for round two, pretty boy?” They smirked, mischief dancing across their face, challenging him in a way that was hard to ignore.

Logan felt his pulse spike at the nickname, an involuntary reaction he stubbornly refused to acknowledge. It got under his skin in a way that was both infuriating and exhilarating, making his chest tighten with something unspoken. He cracked his knuckles, returning their smirk with one of his own. “You think you got it in you to keep up?” His tone was thick with confidence, with that hint of wild pride that only emerged when he faced someone capable of pushing him to his limits.

“Oh, I know I do, sugar.” They let the word roll off their tongue with a teasing lilt, eyes gleaming with challenge.

They shared a look, two rivals who’d found a rare equal, sizing each other up, caught between the thrill of the fight and the satisfaction of knowing that tonight, there was no one else who could possibly match them.

And then, as the tension reached its peak, both held taut in that breathless moment, they launched at each other. Their bodies collided, a clash of motion and control, every inch a dance of precision—not with brute force, but with a dynamic grace, a synergy that felt almost primal. E moved first, sliding low to the ground, almost flowing, their actions fluid and deliberate, bracelets and anklets chiming with every shift. Each touch, each brush of their hand along his arm, shoulder, and side was deceptively soft, like a caress meant to lure rather than harm. But Logan wasn’t fooled. He felt the energy coiled in every motion, understood just how deadly each one could be if they chose it to be. He knew the strength they were capable of. Those strikes—gentle as they were—carried a restrained power, and he sensed it, a whisper of the damage they could inflict if they changed their mind and decided to hurt him.

They circled each other in a rhythm that came as naturally as breathing, bodies weaving in and out, almost as if bound by a magnetic pull. E struck out with an open palm, a grazing motion that skimmed across his ribs, a warning rather than a blow. Logan responded, ducking low and twisting around, countering with a restrained swing that they sidestepped with ease, pivoting on one leg, the other extended gracefully behind them. Their fighting style was a thing of beauty—each move sharp, controlled, yet inherently lethal. It was all in the restraint, the elegance in the way they flowed around him, closing the distance only to slip away, like waves ebbing back from the shore.

The touches, brief as they were, left lingering warmth against his skin, almost delicate in contrast to the fierce intent that lay beneath them. Logan could sense it with every shift in their stance, every breath they took—if E wanted to, they could bring him to his knees. It was a tantalizing threat, one that made his blood sing with the thrill of the fight.

In return, he matched their intensity with his own. He countered with his own practiced moves, his ferocity meeting their grace—rougher, rawer, like fire pushing against wind. He didn’t back down, wasn’t about to let them get too close without a response. He dodged, weaved, barely avoiding some of their strikes, slipping by with mere inches to spare. When they made contact—a calculated strike to his shoulder—he could feel the charged intent behind it, even as they held back, making him stagger back just enough to shake it off, smirking, before charging in again. They danced around him, a perfect, untamed rhythm building between them, and he found himself moving faster, sharper, like every step forward fueled the energy between them, both testing the other without any intent to truly harm. He could feel it in the air between them—something feral, almost like a mating ritual, the way their movements mirrored, challenged, and matched.

They struck again, this time low, forcing him to leap back and adjust, his grin widening with every movement. It was as if they were bound not by competition but by an unspoken connection—a bond that thrived on the intensity, the way they pushed each other without ever holding back. They were not opponents, nor allies in the typical sense. There was no give, no yield. Neither wanted to win or lose. They just wanted to keep moving, to stay in that almost sacred moment, as if time could stretch itself around them, infinite, like two forces swirling endlessly into one another, an ouroboros that neither began nor ended.

E’s presence seemed to shift, to pulse with each strike and dodge, a captivating intensity building under the lights as if drawing energy from the exhilaration in Logan’s gaze. The more he felt—admiration, awe, the raw thrill of the dance—the more vivid they seemed, their form almost transcending reality in the moonlight. Their eyes gleamed with pure, unfiltered joy, and he saw it, saw the way they thrived under his gaze, every ounce of respect and challenge he sent their way amplifying their allure, making them seem more vivid with each passing second. They absorbed his fire, his strength, and reflected it back, their entire being moving with an entrancing grace that felt more alive than the world around them, their movements turning quicker, sharper, a need to show him more, to perform for him, to be seen. It was like they wanted him to witness the full extent of who they were, to understand how much he fueled them, empowered them.

And still, they did not relent. They wove through their attacks with such artful grace, arms sweeping in wide, lethal arcs that never quite struck him, but came close enough to make his heart race. Logan could feel the tension build in every swipe and brush of their hands, a coil wound tight within him, a primal urge to keep going, to fight like this until the stars themselves faded from the sky.

In a final sweep, they pivoted and leapt into the air, their body twisting mid-flight as they spun over his head, landing with barely a sound, crouched low, their gaze burning as they looked up at him, alive with energy, skin aglow. They seemed transformed, radiating something almost otherworldly, as if their exchange had unlocked something deep within them.

They rose slowly, never breaking eye contact, a faint smirk tugging at the edges of their lips, and Logan felt a surge of awe and something deeper, something inexplicable. This hadn’t just been a fight—it was communion, the give-and-take of two forces that could spend eternity bound in this endless, exhilarating cycle. In that timeless, breathless exchange, Logan felt the truth of it. He’d found someone who matched him, who fed off the same fire, who thrived under the heat of his gaze just as he could under theirs. And as he steadied himself, breath ragged, he knew one thing for certain—he didn’t want this moment to end.

But then, unexpectedly, E burst out laughing—an honest, unrestrained, melodic laugh that broke free as if from a place long hidden. They threw their head back toward the sky, eyes closed, arms open, an untamed joy that caught Logan completely off-guard. That sound—it wasn’t mocking, nor was it triumphant. It was raw, genuine happiness and it sent a ripple through him, something deep and visceral. His chest tightened at the sight, at the way E’s expression softened for just a breath, letting the mask slip enough to reveal the humanity underneath all that skill and bravado.

It lasted only a few heartbeats, but in that space, Logan felt a shift. The air between them crackled differently, heavier, as if the laughter had broken down an invisible barrier neither had admitted was there. E’s eyes met his, searching, almost daring him to react, to see beyond the sparring and the guarded quips. For once, there was no battle in their gaze, only an invitation.

Logan’s eyes lingered on them as he tried to steady his breathing. A slow grin creeped across his lips, a rare thing that made the edges of his face soften, the soft, unguarded joy in E’s laugh still echoing in his mind. “Enjoying yourself, huh?” he said, voice rougher than he intended, a mix of exertion and something deeper. He’d seen them as fierce, elusive, hidden behind layers that only cracked in quick, playful smirks. But tonight, they’d shown him something true, almost sacred, and he couldn’t look away .

E’s smile didn’t fade as they stepped closer, their chest rising and falling in time with their breaths. “More than you know,” they replied, voice low and charged, carrying a promise unspoken yet understood. They stood close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from their skin, the space between them almost humming with potential.

Logan’s gaze couldn't leave them, their bare sincerity, their easy grace, the way they stood under the stars as though they belonged there more than any place he’d ever seen. For once, he was stripped of any clever response, any guard. He didn’t look away, either, though something in him warned he probably should. He could feel it—how much more they seemed to want to show him. How much closer he wanted to be.

They could feel the fire burning in his gut, feeding their hunger in a way that made the ache to stoke it grow stronger. Under his curious eyes, they began moving in slow, hypnotic turns, delicate and precise, metallic chimes echoing from their wrists and ankles. They were dancing—an ancient and untamed choreography, meant only for the night air, the moon, the stars, and him. Logan could almost feel the pulse of their energy in his bones, awakening that place deep inside him that almost never stirred, except in moments like this—moments fleeting and rare. His reason urged him to keep his guard up, but his defenses were slipping, worn down by the rhythm of their dance and the raw humanity of their movements. He found himself stilling, breathing slow, caught in the silent music only they could hear.

Then, they stopped, releasing a deep, contented sigh, like someone freed after being bound for far too long. They looked at him, an unfiltered calm in their gaze, and the sight of it drew something close to an ache in him.

“Thank you, Logan,” they said, their voice holding a warmth he rarely heard from anyone.

He gave a short nod, gruff as always, but inside, her words struck him with a strange weight. “Didn’t do much,” he muttered quietly, shrugging it off.

“Oh, but you did.” E’s lips curved up, but there was no teasing, no facade, only quiet gratitude. They extended their hands, twisting their fingers and wrists slowly in delicate, almost playful movements, while their bracelets chimed softly against their skin, as though savoring the freedom, the lightness they’d reclaimed. “Since you gifted me peace, tonight, I’m gonna give you a gift of my own,” they whispered, stepping forward. They reached out, their fingers brushing his forearm, a casual touch that set his nerves on fire. "You’re leaving yourself open here," they murmured, their skin grazing his, their voice close enough to send a shiver down his spine.

A current shot through him, sharp and electric, but he rolled his shoulders, masking his reaction behind a rough mutter. “Ain’t used to sparrin’ against dancers.”

“You’ll learn,” they replied, their smirk tugging back into place, the hint of that earlier mischief glinting in their gaze again.

For a moment, they both fell silent, the night air cooling around them. E’s eyes shifted upward, to the expanse of stars overhead, and Logan felt the pull too. The sky was scattered with pinpricks of light, stretching endlessly into the dark. It reminded him of how vast everything was, how small he was within it, how his years—his long, battle-hardened years—were just a blink in the vastness above. And yet here, with them, under this open sky, he felt strangely anchored.

Beside him, E’s voice softened, thoughtful. “You ever feel like you don’t belong anywhere?”

Their words hit him, catching him off guard, reaching into places he usually kept sealed. It gnawed at him, the way they stood there looking like a piece of the sky had touched down, that soft glow in their eyes, one of peace, of gratitude, maybe even of kinship. There were few people who’d ever asked him something like that, fewer still who might actually understand the answer.

“More often than you’d think,” he muttered, the words escaping before he could second-guess them. He kept his eyes trained on the stars, the expansive sky above, as if it could ease the ache that always lingered somewhere in his chest. “Don’t matter where I go, or who I’m with—there’s always this… hole. Even when I’ve got a good thing goin’ on.”

They stayed quiet, listening, and somehow that silence gave him the space to keep talking.

“I got a family here, I know that. Hell, got more people than I ever thought I’d get who actually care if I stick around or not,” he said, his voice gruff, but his words open. “But sometimes… feels like I’m just borrowin’ time. Waitin’ till somethin’ pulls me back out there.” He motioned vaguely to the woods, to the wild that always seemed to call his name when he lingered too long within four walls.

E shifted, their eyes softening, and that glow in them brightened almost imperceptibly, as if his words, raw as they were, had stirred something in them. They looked at him in a way that felt like understanding, a wordless acceptance of the parts he rarely let anyone see. He felt his pulse stir again, just under his skin, something vulnerable and hungry for connection clawing its way out.

“Maybe you’re meant to belong somewhere that’s not on a map, you know?” They tilted their head thoughtfully, a gentle shrug in their shoulders. “I know that sounds… vague, but some of us are a little too wild, even for this world. Doesn’t mean you’re without a place, Logan. Maybe it’s just somewhere different.”

Logan let the words sink in, feeling the honesty in them settle like warmth into his chest. He wasn’t used to anyone framing it like that. Usually, the mansion’s residents treated his absences like quirks, a fact of his nature, but it was different with E. They seemed to see through his wanderlust, to recognize something in it that went deeper than just the need to roam.

“Hell, maybe,” he murmured, running a hand through his hair as he tried to shrug off the sudden vulnerability that gripped him. “Dunno if anyone ever told me it was all right to be that way.”

“Guess I just did,” they said, that teasing gleam returning, but softer this time. “Wherever you belong, Logan… you’re welcome in my orbit.”

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “What happened to ‘I don’t need anyone, especially not you’?” His voice was rough, but there was an unmistakable spark of curiosity in his eyes.

E’s expression faltered for a moment, a flicker of defensiveness tightening their features before they smoothed it out. “I don’t need anyone,” they repeated, but the words held a different tone now—less sharp, more open. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t offer a place to someone who needs it… if they want it.”

The words hung between them, suspended in the night air. Logan felt himself drawn to them again, a subtle battle between reason and instinct churning inside him once more. The reasonable part of him couldn’t fathom giving in to that unspoken need, but another part of him, primal, wanted to reach out, to take up their offer without a second thought. So against his better judgment, he let himself step closer, studying the way they seemed to radiate with a quiet strength, a calm that fed into his own unrest in a way he couldn’t quite grasp.

E met his gaze, eyes steady and searching. “Who knows, maybe it could calm the need to wander for a time.”

A flicker of something softened Logan’s expression as he watched them, the words settling deep. “Not a lotta people see me,” he admitted, his voice gruff but his gaze locked onto theirs. “Not like this.”

E smiled, soft but sure. “Maybe because most people aren’t looking in the right places.”

They reached out, their hand brushing his forearm lightly once again, this time lingering—grounding him as much as it startled him. The tension between them was palpable, gnawing at his insides, at that hollow void that filled him. It felt like their connection was solidifying, and it was dangerous. It made his pulse race, his mind screaming at him to pull back, even as every fiber of him longed to stay close. He felt the warmth of their fingers as they pulled away, leaving a faint tingle in their wake. And suddenly, he wanted to know more about them—where they came from, what scars they hid beneath their words and allure, where they honed their fighting skills, what their true power was. So many questions burned on his lips, but he settled for something less intrusive instead.

“What about you… you ever stick around long enough to feel like you could belong somewhere?” he asked, voice low. He didn’t know where the question came from, only that it was out there now, drawn out by a need to connect, another piece of himself he rarely showed.

E paused, searching his eyes. “Once, maybe,” they murmured, and for a moment, a flicker of something deeply personal passed over their face. “But not for a long time.”

The weight of their words hung between them. They shifted again, the lingering sorrow barely visible before it was replaced by their usual confidence. But Logan caught it, the faint sadness, the echo of a familiar ache that mirrored his own. For just a heartbeat, they weren’t his rival, his partner in combat—they were something else, something fragile and human, someone who understood, and it awakened his protective instincts, making his claws itch under his skin.

“Guess we both got a little lost along the way,” he said softly.

They nodded, still holding his gaze, that warm glow growing just a touch brighter. “Then maybe we don’t need a map tonight. Just… a moment to be here.” Their eyes softened, catching his, and the way they looked at him, as if he was the only other soul in the universe, chipped away at some wall he hadn’t even known was still there.

Logan managed a rough smile, a smirk that barely covered the pull he felt toward them. “Guess I could live with that.”

E’s smile spread, almost in relief, as the two of them stood there—not fighters, not strangers, but two people sharing the same quiet space under the stars, filling the empty places between them, if only for a little while. Before he could stop himself, his thumb found its way to their cheek. The pull between them felt almost tangible, a lifeline connecting two drifting souls lost in the unending current of life.

Their face relaxed instantly under his touch, their eyes closing as a deep sigh escaped their lungs. They sensed his desire before he even realized what he was about to do. The world around them seemed to fade, the rustle of leaves and distant hum of crickets dissolving into the quiet thrum of their hearts. He leaned in, his lips so close they could feel the warmth of his breath, the space between them charged with anticipation.

And then they felt it—a subtle, almost magnetic pull as the energy began to flow, unbidden, from him to them. It was faint, like the first tremor of a storm. Panic flickered behind their eyes as they opened, the realization sharp and immediate. With a graceful tilt of their head, E shifted just enough for his lips to brush their cheek instead, the warmth there a bittersweet reminder of what could have been.

Logan froze for a moment, surprise flickering across his expression before he blinked, as if shaking off a spell broken by the soft press of his lips against their cheek. He pulled back, eyes searching theirs for answers, confusion and something deeper swirling in their depths. The space between them thickened, heavy with the unspoken.

“I��” E’s voice wavered, a soft, apologetic smile tugging at their lips as their fingers drifted to the necklace at their throat, the cool pearl grounding them. “It’s late,” they said, each word layered with unexpressed longing.

Logan’s brows knit together, confusion still etched across his face as he took in their expression, the unguarded look that spoke of things they couldn’t voice. E took a long, steady look at him, memorizing the rough kindness in his eyes and the silent question he wouldn’t push. The pull between them ached with what they had to refuse.

With a deep breath, E took a step back. “Goodnight, Logan.”

The silence lingered as he watched them walk away, their silhouette fading into the night. Logan couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted—something deeper than he’d anticipated. And for the first time since they’d met, he wondered just how much control he truly had over the pull that tethered him to them, an unknown force that defied the walls he’d spent a lifetime building.

To be continued…

Notes: If you enjoyed it, don't forget to comment and spread the love 😊 More on the way!

✨ Masterlist ✨

Don't forget to follow the tags "Devilish Desires" and "xpressit writings" to stay tuned for the next chapters 😁

🔖 @quillycrow

[districtunrest]

What's your headcanon for Katniss and Peeta's children?

How old was Katniss when give birth to their daughter?

How many years apart between them in age?

Your headcanon for their name?

Who gets the singing and art skill from their parent?

Bonus question : please give recs of your fav everlark post-Mockingjay fanfic.

Thank you :)

@curiousthg

I'll be honest, I rely a lot on other people's fic to fill in what I think about Katniss and Peeta's kids. I trust that they are loved by their parents, and that they both know this in the thoughtless way any safe and secure child does, and that their family is an overall happy one, despite its past pain and ghosts.

Katniss says it took 15 years for her and Peeta to have children*. assuming the timeline starts at "so after," where they're like 19 (I give them a year after Peeta gets back), she gets pregnant with her daughter at 34.

headcanon their names as Willow and Fletcher but I'm not super attached to them. they're 5 years apart - Willow is 6 and Fletcher 1-ish at the time of the epilogue. they're both winter babies, conceived in the spring. summers are hard for KP mentally and so I don't think they'd try to conceive then, just to have spring babies for the 'rebirth' of it all. I really like the idea that Katniss is pregnant with a third by then but it's not necessary; it's important that she and Peeta have at least a girl and a boy, to symbolize their having 2 tributes that will never be taken.

neither child is the spitting image of either parent. they're obviously a mix of Seam and merchant coloring, with the girl having blue eyes & dark hair and the boy having gray eyes & blond hair. thanks to The Grandmentor, I imagine their daughter as fair ("moon baby!") and their son more olive-skinned. I see both of them taking to art and music in a mix of ways: their daughter likes to dance and sing and paint; their son likes to play the guitar and write lyrics and sketch. they both know how to bake and hunt; their son prefers to bake bread, garden, can foods, and bow hunt whereas their daughter prefers to bake pastries, forage, trap, and smoke meat.

as for toastbaby fic recs, there's The Grandmentor, as you can tell lol, as well as give you my wild by @jenniferiawrence and Here is the place! it's an AU but The Light & The Red by @rosegardeninwinter also has great toastbaby representation!

*Five by @msdisdain explores the idea that Katniss meant there was a pregnancy at 5, 10, and 15 years, which has stuck with me and is the reason why I see the toastbabies as having a 5-year age gap.

[thesorcerersapprenticeu]

Chapter 5: Tip Toe

After the events of the mission, the conversation between Vander and Vi and Mylo's testimony against you, you still have to continue. Strangely enough, Vander calls you for a private conversation.

---

"Lever"

"Le-ver!"

"Exactly!"

You were back in the Basement of The Last Drop. You and Powder were sitting on her bed, leaning against the wall. In the background, music was playing through an old record player, which also had something like a trumpet on it. It was quiet, relaxed and almost made you forget what you had both been listening to a few minutes ago.

 "What the hell were you thinking?"

"They are a Problem."

 "They made a mistake" - "Name one time they haven't"

 "You were twice the person at half their age."

The sentences echo in your head, one popping up again and again, making you feel the emptiness in your stomach. Powder was with you, you ran away from the Thug together, but you threw the bag into the sea.

And now, you're giving Powder something like a lesson again. You've been doing that since you were all taken in by Vander. For your young age, you could already read and write, a privilege no one from Zaun had. Most people can't do math either, whether it's money or goods. Since Vi already knew the letters, but Powder couldn't do either of those things, you taught them.

Even if you preferred to stare into Powder's sapphire blue eyes and get lost in them during this lesson, it went really well. Powder learned incredibly quickly, after just two days she was able to memorize all the letters, much faster than Vi, who only repeated everything in a hurry.

And so here you are again, but not really in class mentally. You can't stop thinking about the big notebook from the Academy apartment, the Holy Wizard Corpse. Since you learned from one of the pages almost an hour ago that there are corpse parts in Zaun and Piltover, you can't clear your head. You kept thinking about which of the Nine Parts are hiding here, in this hole, in Zaun... And what they can do. Does it have something to do with magic or some natural force of the world?

But all the while thinking about it, the whole job pops into your head about how you and Powder screwed up and all the loot is gone.

"And this Lever is an object." You say, not with as much conviction as usual, but enough to make it sound like educational words. You look to your right, to Powder, and expect a definition for object.

"An object..." Powder replies, actually quite quickly. She looks to your left for a moment, makes a thinking face and turns right again. She stretches her arm forward, grabs a piece from a metal mesh-like box and tinkers with her gadget. "Soooo...A Thing?"

Should I talk to her about Vi's statement? No, I can't do that. They're sisters, hearing something like that from your own must be much worse than from someone like Mylo.

"Yeah...A Thing." You say after a few seconds. Your mouth utters the words while your other senses automatically focus their attention on her. Her hair, her soft pale skin and everything about her was perfect. She didn't see herself that way, neither do you, after all you're both the weaklings of the group. But who cares if you have each other?

"A lever is a simple tool that helps you to move or lift heavy things more eas-

You stop talking and see Vi out of the corner of your eye. Her red hair immediately stands out in the dim light. She walks towards you, a light smile tracing her lips as she sees you both sitting there.

"What are you calling this one?" Vi asks quietly as she stops in front of the bed and leans forward slightly.

Your eyes immediately fixate on her, a few things wander through your mind.

What is she doing here? And why is she asking about Whisker, as if she's really interested? She wants us both to train or something. Or is she here to tell us what an embarrassment we've made of ourselves today? After all, she agreed with Mylo about what he said to us.

"Whisker" This time Powder waits a few seconds before answering. It even sounds slightly broken, as if she hesitated to answer. She was probably thinking the same thing you were: that Vi wants to address what happened today and distract you for now.

Powder takes the little gadget in one hand and starts drawing on it with the other. She does this with each of her creations and you could watch her for hours. It's an art how her slender fingers spread the color on the metallic surfaces and it becomes an invention.

With that, Vi suddenly moves towards you, onto the bed. While you hold on to Powder, she sits down next to you on the left, a slight distance from Powder, after all it was clear what was coming next.

"Wanna talk about today?"

Neither you nor Powder look over at her. The mood is pretty shitty, after all, she's addressing the two who lost the Haul. You think, the simple "no" answer definitely won't satisfy Vi. She's a pretty direct and determined person, so if she wants to appeal to your feelings, she can.

So you answer, dazed and in a depressive mood, but you answer.

"Why? I Ruined Everything." It sounds like rubbish coming out of your mouth. How many times have you apologized to the others just because you didn't get something right? "I'm sorry I'm so weak." Or "I didn't know, I'm sorry." If you think about it, you've already lost count of how many times you've apologized for something like that. Definitely too many times.

"Oh, I almost forgot..." Vi starts, not even a second after you've spoken. You turn your head towards her, a few strands of hair obscuring a completely clear view of her head, but her light blue eyes stare right through you. "Vander wanted to talk to you."

What, Vander wants to talk to me? Does he know what you and Mylo said about us and wants something like an apology from you to us? But does he want to talk to me alone or with Powder-

"In private."

That's all Vi had to say. You immediately push yourself over the sheet, even though you would have actually been further into the conversation, it's probably better if the two sisters talk about it among themselves. Powder can probably answer much better than you, after all, she's rather articulate with words.

The last thing you see before you leave the room is Vi moving into your now vacated seat and starting to talk to Powder.

There you are, sitting opposite Vander's tall, strong and serious stature. You just walked up the stairs again, and there he was. He stayed here, where he'd been talking to Vi privately an hour ago. But she was definitely not sitting right in front of me, but in the single chair where she always sat.

"Why do you think I want to talk to you?" Vander's voice rings out across the room. It's deep, bold and the complete opposite of yours. You shift a little in your seat because of your trembling knees, your pounding heart and your head that just can't stop thinking.

Why? It's obvious, because of what happened today. Is he perhaps angry because I lost the haul? Or does he like it because there's no more evidence against us, after all, the things should be at the bottom of the sea now.

"About...today." It sounds more like a question than an answer. Your shaky voice only makes it as far as his ears, you can't hear it yourself. But you see him slowly and quietly sighed, his eyes drift to the ceiling and he adopts a more relaxed posture on the couch opposite you.

"You do understand, right?" He takes his time before answering you, a calm voice and a confident response.

What?

"Vi's leader sense isn't wrong, but she really needs to watch what you're pulling." He finally replies. He gets out of the relaxed position and stretches his arms out in front of him, pressing his hands together. You can see the muscles in his arms, the individual veins flowing through them and the strong skin tone. "You should understand that... After all, you have a good brain."

You immediately understand what he means: you shouldn't just stand by. But you like the way he says it, he doesn't say like the others that you need to train or eat more; he emphasizes your strengths. You are the smartest one in the group, even if you don't show it and don't talk about it. Even if you have a good idea for something that would keep you out of trouble, you never say it.

Vander is the person you trust the most, followed directly by Powder. After all, Vander took you from the bridge soaked in red smoke, not only that, he showed you the other world, and at the same time showed you what it really means to live for something. He always listens to you when you tell him something, whether it's a story or something that bothers you.

"I see what you mean..." You finally answer, your thoughts running like some kind of cogwheel.  You sit down a little better, lean back and put your hands on your knees.

You don't say anything for a few seconds, and neither does he. You take deep breaths from your nose, feel the oxygen literally bring your body to life and get ready to compose your thoughts so that you won't regret it in the future.

Because you are a person who is always thinking about the mistakes from your past.

"In terms of the course of war.... It comes down to one move. One move we make wrong can end really badly for the underworld...My people." He sits up straight, a strong straight stature and his eyes fixed on you. He continues to squeeze his hands together and now interlocks some of his fingers. "What you did today was really dangerous. I've already talked to Vi about it...But you know how she is."

One Wrong Move and the Underworld is torn apart by the Enforcers. But why is he talking about it like he has so much power to manage that one move?

Vander just keeps looking at you, raising an eyebrow as you continue to stare at the floor. You shift slightly from left to right on the comfy couch. Your head is literally seething with questions and theories about Vander's statements.

Yes, he could have a deal with the Enforcers. That would make sense, as long as Vander can make sure that no one from Zaun gets into their business or causes any problems. On the other hand, enforcers don't come down here every day and savagely slaughter the people in their way.

"I understood, Vander."

"So I understand you've already disposed of the Haul?" Vander says, fixing his eyes on your hands and seeming to recognize something. He probably seems to be looking at the light slashes you have from climbing, your skin is more sensitive than others.

"Yes." That's all you say, you just can't get it together. Your mind won't let you process anything more than you just did, apparently you're the only person who's come to the conclusion: Vander has a deal with the Enforcers. The Enforcers, who see the people of the underworld as scum.

"You're a smart boy Y/N, don't let anyone tell you otherwise." He finally says as he slowly rises from the couch across from you. His eyes follow his broad back, and somehow you can't think of anything else but:

I had only just seen his back at the time. The same back that challenged them all on the bridge with the Red smoke. So he made this deal afterwards? How many had he killed on the bridge, in the battle?

But just before he walks out, right at that moment, he stops. At the door of the room, after everything that has happened, it looks for a moment as if he is dead. Slain by the deeds and sins of all the inhabitants of Zaun. You shift slightly in your seat, your eyes fixed on his back, your mind blank, preparing for his words.

"You have potential, Y/N. Just don't waste it." He doesn't turn to you, still facing the door with his massive stature, with you still sitting on the couch anyway. "I don't care if you have too fragile a body, it's the brain that counts. The one who can use small power perfectly will win every battle."

Every battle. But for what? Is he trying to tell me something at the same time? Is something bad going to happen soon?

"By the way, you have to go into hiding, you can go into the little hiding place with the box machine. But you have to remember one thing...

No One Wins in War. " With that he's gone, a slam of the door and your view changes to a normal room without a human soul.

You forget the incident with your assignment. You think about everything that has happened in this short time. No thought escapes you, everything flows through your big memory and is spit out like a computer. It has all happened far too quickly, not only is time moving too fast, everything has happened at once, and you have the strange feeling that Vander's words will stay in your head for a long time to come.

The Corpse Parts. Magic that you could literally feel in the Academy apartment. The Spinning Weapon of the Enforcers. A secret power in this world. But everything was... connected.

But even when everything takes over your brain, you still think about Vander's statement.

No One Wins in War. War brings pain to everyone, no matter what side you are on. In the end, it doesn't matter if you win, because you still lost a lot to get there. But it's Told by Vander who has only been on the losing side of a war, plus he apparently has a deal with the Enforcers, it doesn't make any sense. No... this phrase refers to human lives, not political power. He's a pacifist, at least I think so.

Also, he doesn't necessarily have to have a deal with them, maybe I'm just thinking too much. But it would still be possible, Vander is definitely the best known from the underworld, it would make sense of all people to make a deal with him.

But after a few minutes of sitting over his statement and thinking about it until you can't do it anymore, you've figured it out.

Nobody wins, but one side loses a lot less.

You get up, rumble to your feet and look around. No one is there, the others are most likely already in the hideout, you should go there too. Before you leave, you take the book with the notes about the Corpse Parts and the Enforcer's gadget. You put on the long black coat you were already wearing when you came here, it was too big for you, but you can easily store both items in the side pocket.

Now make your way to the hiding place with the others.

---

[hellishotelier]

Starting Alastor Headcanons

In Life

Father, Joseph, from a decently wealthy business family. Upper middle class. White. He would eventually become a lawyer.

Mother, Cecelia, mixed race, worked as a maid in a hotel.

Parents met in a concert saloon, bonding over music. For him it was a summer fling but she was in love.

Born as Michael Alastor Garcin, May 22nd, 1892.

Went by his first/"Catholic" name among white people or generally those he was trying to impress, but his second "real" name by friends and family or people who otherwise knew he was mixed. He also either used his mother's last name (his own legal last name) or his father's last name. Though he would sometimes switch it up, he usually kept his Catholic name with his father's last name and real name with his mother's. So he usually either went by Michael Anderson or Alastor Garcin (or derivations of this)

Joseph refused to acknowledge his son as his, so Cecilia raised him on her own without his father's financial support

Alastor was light enough and has enough of his father's features to pass. While he grew up knowing his mother's Creole culture, she encouraged him to also adopt more white customs for a better chance of success. As in, learned from an early age to compartmentalize himself and be very cognizant of how he is perceived by others. Very aware of the various masks he needs to wear.

Alastor grew to resent his father and everything he stood for. He has two main goals in regards to his father. Make him notice him. Make Joseph regret abandoning his mother. Whether this was to be by taking over a position of his or by being a nemesis. It didn't matter.

Was going to become a lawyer to try to topple his father, but couldn't afford to become one.

Served in WWI (details to appear in its own post at a later point).

When he returned from the war, he found that both his beloved mother and reviled father had died of Spanish Flu while he was gone. So he neither got to say goodbye to her or get closure/revenge on his father.

In a fit of directionless rage, Alastor killed the first person he thought deserved it in some way. Really was just some random drunk. But that caught the bug for him in a taste for murder. From then on, he would have a mental list of potential victims and when he got into a murderous mood, he would find one of them and kill them.

Post-war, had two jobs, one for each of his identities. Michael Anderson was a radio tech with aspirations for being a host. But this never happened. For Alastor Garcin, he was a pianist at a jazz club. Gave him an extra income for his lifestyle.

Kill count (not including the war) was 31 over 15 years. He kept them spread out fairly well, though he always did at least some murder around mid-April since that's when he found out his parents died.

Died on June 20, 1934. Was shot by a hunter after coming back from burying a body. This hunter, John Murphy panicked and tried to dispose of Alastor's body, but in doing so poorly, was pinned for the murder Alastor was covering. This led to a domino effect where Murphy was accused, tried, and convicted for most of Alastor's murders (not all were connected to the case and were otherwise never discovered or ruled as other causes).

Therefore Alastor's only real legacy (or what he would be known for by anyone who didn't directly know him) is for being a notorious serial killer's last victim. Alastor does not know this.

Afterlife

General current goals: Get out of deal and then stay independent, survive, find purpose in eternity

He was not a cannibal in life. However, he is in afterlife since Rosie was one of the first people he came across when he arrived in Hell. As he was learning the ins and outs of Hell, the offerings made him assume that's just what people are in Hell. He soon found out that wasn't the case, but by that point he wasn't bothered by it.

Contracted with [redacted] ((in RP, by default it won't be who I'm RPing with. It would need to be negotiated specifically. No auto contract))

July 21, 1976 officially dead longer than alive.

[seizethedre]

(In the Land of Gods and Monsters)

Chapter Five: I Don't Really Wanna Know What's Good For Me

Alastor's an asshole. But maybe this time he also happens to be right about something. And since when did taste-testing desserts become such a compromising task?

Or, Lucifer has a bit of an overthinking problem and having a certain Radio Demon can be oddly therapeutic.

Something that should be understood, first and foremost, about a guy like Lucifer is that he’s old. Like, really old. You wouldn’t be able to guess as much from the looks of it, but he’s been alive a long, long, long, long time. A certain perk of eternal life is being able to experience the luxuries of mortal inventions throughout the ages.

First there was sex, which clearly had been skipped over in Heaven 101. But Lucifer had always been fond of learning new things and the department of carnal pleasures was one that he frequented often in the earlier years after he fell. Yup, he was quite the pro when it came to all things in, out, under, over, and around. Lucifer was never one to deny himself the simpler joys of existence, after all.

Then of course there were the more mental and emotional passions bred by humanity. This of course included literature, the arts, dancing, and music. Lucifer had been particularly interested when man became civilized enough to express themselves outside of simple oral communications. As a being of creation himself, the angel was intrigued by what they came up with.

 Little was ever divulged about the Plan past the series that took place in the Garden, so the unfolding of events was just as new and exciting to him as the creation had once been. And despite him only being able to see the messy dregs of the human world, it was quickly evident that even a spark of humanity was enough to inspire creation of some degree in each sinner that headed his way. He often wondered how they did it: they knew so little and had no grace to aid them in conjuring and transforming. But humans were gifted in their own right and the things they came up with, whew, it was breathtaking . 

Admittedly, Lucifer’s own fascination with and knowledge of  the arts came from his study of some of history’s greatest artistic talents. Well, those unfortunate enough to wind up in Hell at least.

It’s true that  most of those guys headed upstairs, but every few decades or so, maybe once or twice a century, some poor soul–Michelangelo, ever heard of him?-- got just a little too greedy, too proud for their own good and eventually landed themselves sitting in on a one-on-one with the Devil himself discussing the pros and cons of en plein air practice versus studiowork, or the benefits of oil paints versus temperas.

 It was all very new and thrilling, this  endeavor, one that drove him to rediscover and reconsider the itch he’d always had to create something, anything, and everything. He had always used his hands when creating things, used them to channel energy and grace, guide that power into something malleable and solid, but this provided a fresh take on that. Now he was literally using his hands as a means to bring something into being. Sure his art was neither as grand or imposing as, say, a new solar system or mountain ranges that spanned across entire continents, but their emotional significance carried a similar weight in his heart and in his being.

So humanity turned out to be a bit craftier than he had originally given them credit for, and in no subject did that become more evident than when it came to their cooking. Having created and placed a lot of the animals and herbs, Lucifer knew that the intention was for all of them to be used or consumed in some shape or form, but father was he astonished to find out just how many different ways man would learn to mix things up. 

While he himself had grown a particular affinity for the foods at the sweeter end of the culinary spectrum, Lucifer could admit that he was more than willing to try it all. And boy was there a lot to try. From regional dishes, to vegan diets, specialty dishes and fine dining, there was always something new and trendy to taste. He’d even given cannibalism a try once, albeit unknowingly at the time, and although he wasn’t keen on repeating that particular meal any time soon, he could admit, if only ever to himself, that it hadn’t been half bad.

Eating was a unique experience indeed. It was one of those practices, among many others such as sleeping and bathing, that Lucifer didn’t necessarily need to do, but he liked to do it nonetheless. By extension, cooking was another activity that Lucifer found himself dedicating countless time towards mastering. Much like art, being in the kitchen surrounded by the smells and tastes was oddly therapeutic for him. It allowed him to feel grounded and fulfilled, especially when he was able to share his cooking with other people. He found that there was little conflict or misunderstanding that couldn’t be resolved with some homemade, love-infused cooking, which is exactly why he tended to schedule cooking parties whenever things between the Sins became a little too rocky.

He’d said it before and he’d say it again: life in Hell wasn’t all bad. Especially when every new age of sinners brought with them all of the new advancements and improvements they’d gathered throughout their lives on earth.

Sure the gratification of participation was a little delayed, almost like the largest most complex game of telephone in the universe, but Lucifer got a taste of it all eventually. In some form or another,  that’s all that really mattered in the end. 

All this to say, and Lucifer really didn’t mean to toot his own horn–then again he wouldn’t be the embodiment of Pride if he didn’t every so often give it a little honk– but over his many years of living and partaking of the varied fruits of man's labors, he had come to develop what some would call a refined palate. In his own words, he would call it damn near perfect, exquisite even. You could throw an entire grocery store into a blender and feed it to him through a bendy straw and he would still be able to name every single thing in there, down to the molecules. Yeah, he was pretty good. But that also meant he was a little picky. Just a tiny bit, but rightfully so; he was the King after all. Having tried all the foods, he knew quality when he saw it, could smell it from miles away, and if he were to indulge in food not made by his own hands, then he expected to be wowed. And if this food, pastries no less, was to be served at his daughter’s event in the hotel that she owned and operated, then he’d be damned twice over if he allowed anything but the best to pass through the front entrance.

My my, this taste testing session would be fun indeed.

And, well, okay, maybe it was supposed to be fun, but the chiming of the little bell was drowned out by a casual little jazzy number that quickly reminded Lucifer that he wasn’t exactly alone on this errand anymore. In fact, he was so graciously accompanied by Alastor, and doesn’t this guy hate sweets anyways, and that could only mean that this business meeting would be neither fun nor easy nor an agreeable one. 

Lucifer felt uneasy for reasons not completely unknown to him. Although he’d done his best to shake it off, his palm still tingled with the remnants of holy power that he’d felt when he grabbed Alastor’s staff. Paranoia wasn’t exactly a word that Lucifer would often use to describe himself, I mean a lot of other words could be used, sure, but that was rarely ever one of them. And let’s get one thing clear here: there is very little both in Heaven and in Hell that could cause irreparable damage to him, so that meant that there really was no problem big enough that he couldn’t face. 

Would he consider the Radio Demon in particular to be a problem? Hardly. The guy couldn’t displace a single hair on his unholy head if he threw his entire arsenal at the angel. Now, as for his reasons for hanging around Charlie, Lucifer didn’t doubt that there was some sort of ulterior motive behind that, but ultimately there was nothing that could be done to hurt her either, even if Lucifer wasn’t around the hotel to prevent anything from happening. Say what you will about Lucifer being a deadbeat, but he never, in her entire life, stopped keeping tabs on his daughter and her well-being. He supposed in some begrudging way, he should be appreciative that Charlie had someone like Alastor to keep the big baddies at bay before Lucifer’s residency. 

So no, Lucifer did not hate the guy. At a certain point in his seemingly endless existence, much of the energy required for true, bonafide hatred had fizzled out and at best he could really only muster up intense feelings of annoyance. Now, was the demon a massive pain in the ass? Well, that’s a whole other story entirely. But even the King of Hell had to admit that it was entertaining enough to poke at the proverbial bear from time to time. Who knows, maybe he could even get him to bite.

Point being that up until that point, he’d had no real reason to be suspicious of the demon, but this entire ordeal was definitely weird, even by Alastor’s standards. Lucifer could always waltz into the cafe and demand answers, that wouldn’t exactly be hard for someone like him to do, but experience told him that the demon was a stubborn little shit who definitely wouldn’t divulge any information willingly and for nothing in return and really it was far too early for a fight. Plus, what would Charlie think if she were to catch their little tiff escalated to a million percent live on the evening news when he was meant to be out finalizing their catering spread? 

Alastor could keep his mysteries, for now at least. But Lucifer would definitely be keeping a close eye on him. Maybe he would even do some snooping of his own. That could wait until later, they had pastries to sample first.

The sinner of the hour was poised near the register, arms crossed behind his back at the wrists, staff suspiciously absent. He seemed to be engaged in conversation with the lizard-looking man behind the counter, though by the looks of it he was probably well aware of who he was speaking to, and judging by the too-pale complexion, was probably scared shitless. Lucifer sidled up just in time to catch the end of a stuttered sentence, watching as the demon’s mouth widened, baring more of his pointed smile at the worker’s clear discomfort. Lucifer had half a mind to say something about playing nice, but this was hell after all and everyone had to get their kicks one way or another. Alastor's preferred method just happened to be sadism, but who was Lucifer to judge?

He turned his attention to the display cases that lined the entire left wall as well as what remained to the left of the register. There was a lot to see, much of it consisting of pastries big and small in all kinds of fun, lively colors. Tarts and danishes lined the uppermost shelves of the display directly in front of him, all thick and golden and flaky, dotted with diced fruit and topped with something whipped and airy. It made his mouth water, and despite the unnecessary function that food plays in his day-to-day survival, he found the pits of his stomach begging him to make up for the fact that he hadn’t had breakfast that morning. 

Curious, he pushed down the hunger in favor of touring the rest of the displays. He examined each carefully, thinking about what would best suit the needs of their event. Cookies, cupcakes, macarons, eclairs–the options were endless and truthfully a bit overwhelming. They all looked so good and clearly this place took a lot of care and pride into the presentation of their products. Lucifer could respect that, definitely. But enough chit chat: let’s feast.

Right on cue, Lucifer heard a shuffle behind the display he was currently crouched in front of and straightened himself to see that the guy who’d been manning the register was now looking down at him, looking more relieved to be in front of the Devil himself than the Radio Demon. 

“H-hello sir–I mean, your Majesty, sorry! H-How can I help you?” The poor fool looked like he was one twitch of the eye away from pissing himself and yeah, Lucifer could definitely do without that today. Unlike the heartless asshole who was still leering at the poor sinner from across the room, Lucifer took pity on the guy, averting his gaze to look over the display again before speaking up.

“Hey there, we would actually like to put in an order. A big one, actually. It’s for an Open House we’re hosting to celebrate the reopening of my daughter’s hotel on the other side of town. Ever heard of it? You’re welcome to come, actually everyone’s welcome to come, you should invite your friends, too, you know, if they’re interested. We have a bunch of new amenities available for our residents and this would be a great opportunity to get to learn more about our cause. Charlie, my daughter, could go on and on about it and I–” 

Lucifer’s rambling was cut off by a heavy hand landing on his shoulder, slender red fingertips digging lightly into the material of his coat. He glanced back at Alastor, who now stood slightly behind him, perplexed at the sudden intrusion. His crimson gaze narrowed down at him before flicking back up to look at the sinner behind the display. Lucifer’s eyes followed their lead, only now taking in the wide-eyed confusion and the redness of the guy’s face, hands frozen mid air as he clutched a pen and notepad, clearly overwhelmed by the onslaught of information Lucifer had hurled at him. 

Oopsies? 

“Please, do excuse our esteemed monarch,” the demon interjected. “This event we are hosting is rather important to our cause, as I’m sure you can understand. What our Majesty means to say is that we would like to enlist your fine establishment in catering this Open House of ours. Should your goods and services measure up to our standards and expectations, of course.” He smiled widely, which on anyone else wouldn’t seem threatening but on the demon it was downright terrifying. The lizard-demon gulped, paling again at the emotional whiplash. 

“Of c-course, Sir, your Majesty. We-we would be honored to cater this event for you. Um, what exactly were you looking for? What we have out on display tend to be customer favorites, but we do offer customizable options should you be wanting something else.” He shifted between Lucifer and Alastor, his uncertain gaze ping ponging as he waited for one of them to answer. 

“I do believe I’ll let you take the lead on this one, your Majesty. This is your area of expertise and this is your errand to run after all.” With a final squeeze of his shoulder, Alastor let go of the angel, removing himself from his immediate proximity. Lucifer looked after him as he picked his way over to one of the small tables that dotted the other side of the bakery. A green-tinged tentacle wormed its way through the shadows at his feet, pulling out a chair for him to take a seat. With a wave of his hand, the quiet plucking of piano keys seemed to start up out of nowhere in a pleasant tune. The demon closed his eyes, seemingly enjoying the quiet music. Lucifer blinked then cleared his throat, turning back to the employee.

“Um, yeah, so like he was saying, this event is scheduled for about four weeks from now. We’re expecting anywhere between one-hundred to two-hundred guests and would like a variety of pastries to cover most of their preferences. Would that be okay?” Lucifer cringed a little bit at the question he tacked on at the end, knowing full well that as King of Hell he shouldn’t be asking sinners for permission or anything of the sort, but he couldn’t help it, even after all this time. There was a little blat of feedback from somewhere behind him.

“Yes, absolutely!” The lizard demon answered animatedly, no longer looking like he was about to pass out. “It would be no problem at all, your Majesty. Did you have any particular pastries in mind?”

Lucifer looked over the displays, mulled over his options slowly, deliberately, as he weighed the mental pros and cons of each option and trapped a clawed fingertip between his teeth.

“I’m thinking cookies, for starters, maybe just a general assortment of your most popular flavors. Macarons, too. I’m not keen on serving anything too messy. Maybe some fruit tarts?” Despite knowing very well what he enjoyed out of a dessert, Lucifer wasn’t too sure what Charlie would want to serve and he really didn’t want to let her down, especially with such a simple task as this. “Actually, would you mind bringing out a few samples? Nothing too fancy, just what you think would work well in this case.” The sinner nodded, jotting down a few notes before looking back down at the King.

“Of course sir, right away. Feel free to take a seat, I’ll be right out with those samples.”

Lucifer smiled tightly, anxiety swirling in his chest as he made his way over to where Alastor still sat, neatly perched with his arms folded, eyes closed, shoulders relaxed, entirely oblivious to the turmoil going on inside the monarch. He pulled his chair out with a loud screeching sound. The sinner’s ear twitched, but that was the only acknowledgement he received. 

Lucifer tapped his claws against the tabletop, looking around the room aimlessly. It was a cute shop, no doubt about it, all clean and earthy tones with lots of sweet smells and warm lights. He tried to concentrate on his surroundings in an attempt to ease his thoughts away from how pathetic he felt for getting so in his head over fucking desserts. What did it matter what he chose? People would eat them right? This wouldn’t be the proverbial straw that would break what little relationship he was beginning to recover with his daughter. Logically, Lucifer knew all of this, but a little part of him, okay a big part of him, was still so afraid of letting her down again . Charlie, his sweet, darling daughter, in all her infinite patience and goodness deserved so much more than what he could offer even on a good day. This wasn’t fair to her by any means, but he’d find a way to pull himself together. For her. He just had to.

“You are quite the jittery little fellow, aren’t you?”

Lucifer turned to Alastor, perplexed. The sinner had leaned back in his seat and stretched out in a neat array of lengthy limbs. The music had changed to something slower, smoother, quieter than before. A man sung softly, all low and crooning drawn-out notes. The angel was unfamiliar with the tune, but liked it well enough.

“What do you mean, I’m literally just sitting here?” Lucifer wasn’t one to be self conscious, but he had started to recognize a pattern when it came to the demon calling him out on his unconscious movements. Now that , he didn’t like. Especially not when he did it like this, having opened a single red eye just to slowly drag it up and down the king’s person. Lucifer let out a huff of air, immediately stilling his hands and feet which had started to bounce up and down on their own accord while he wasn’t paying attention.

Okay, point taken.

“Sorry,” he said. He clasped his hands together and planted his feet, giving them a stern finger-wagging in his mind for their ridiculous behavior. The demon continued to watch him, side-eyeing him from his periphery.

“Apologies should only be necessary if you don’t plan on repeating said offense. I do believe that this has become quite the habit of yours, your Majesty.” Alastor waved a single hand dismissively in his direction, sliding his eye closed once more. Lucifer sulked at that, because how the hell was this guy giving him lessons on etiquette when he was, quite literally, seconds away from eating a man whole not fifteen minutes ago.

“You know,” he continued. “I do find it quite fascinating that a being of your status would feel as affronted as you are over the simple matter of narrowing down the catering menu. My, had I known sooner, I would have suggested Charlie assign you even more benign tasks from the moment you arrived.”

Lucifer sent the demon a withering look, not that he could see it, but he hoped the asshole could feel its heat.

“Not that I have to explain myself to you, Al ,” and yeah, that ear twitch was definitely done out of annoyance at the nickname. “But it’s not the catering that I have on my mind. It’s the fact that this is important to the hotel and I want to make sure we get nothing but the best.” This is important to Charlie , is what he actually meant, but he felt no desire to go barking up that tree when the Radio Demon was being so placid for the time being. But as luck would have it, the demon didn’t feel the need to maintain the peace between them.

“Ah yes, young Charlotte’s latest endeavor does seem like a most inspired idea. I’ll admit I’m rather looking forward to seeing just how many residents we glean from this Open House of hers.” Innocent enough words, and spoken sincerely enough if you didn’t know Alastor, but Lucifer could pick out the mocking tone from the other side of Pentagram City and that just wouldn’t do.

“Fuck you, Alastor.” A shrill of static interrupted the music. “You and I both know that you couldn’t give two shits about Charlie or the hotel, so what gives? Why don’t you just leave us alone?

“And leave dear Charlie to fend for herself? What kind of partner would that make me?” The demon opened his eyes and sat up, placing a hand on his chest in mock offense at the king’s words. “No, I intend to see this little project of hers through to the very abysmal end. I am a man of my word, after all, loyal to a fault, you could say, and I stand by my promises. I’m not sure the same could be said about all of us here though. So long as the Princess continues to inquire for my assistance, I’m afraid that leaving is simply out of the question. Plus, where would be the fun in that?” A wicked grin stretched unnaturally across his face, eyes darkening as the rack above his head grew. Lucifer rolled his eyes, swatting away at the waves of static that seemingly rolled off of the demon. Did people honestly find that threatening?

“Listen asshole, I don’t care what you have to say about me, but you leave my daughter out of this. She doesn’t need you, she doesn’t realize that yet, but I can promise you that the second she says the word, you’re out of here. I was her father long before you became involved and she will continue to be my daughter long after you’re gone, got it?” 

Anger had gotten the better of his control about halfway through his little speech, eyes seeping into a demonic red while he felt his horns sprout from his forehead. His tail twitched behind him, snapping in agitation like a whip. Although he wasn’t yet at the point of breathing fire, Lucifer could feel the familiar burn in the back of his throat, tasting the smoke and itching to release it. 

If Alastor was intimidated–which he definitely should be because the angel didn’t hulk out for just anyone–he didn’t show it. Instead, he opted for resuming his relaxed position in his seat, crossing his legs at the ankles and examining his pristine claws. The picture of indifference despite the king’s outburst.

“Hm,” he responded, sparing Lucifer a bored look. “I don’t understand what you’re so upset about then.” And, oh, okay. Not the response he was expecting. Like at all. 

Worst of all, the demon was right. What was he worried about? Some sinner who could be snapped out of existence with the literal blink of an eye? Hearing his irrational fears parroted back to him from someone else did make them seem a bit trivial and unnecessary. For not the first time that day, Lucifer felt the mortifying need to apologize to Alastor, but he wouldn’t give the smug bastard the satisfaction. 

He crossed his arms instead and they sat in silence, save for the quiet music emanating from the Radio Demon, until lizard-man emerged from the back room balancing a few trays of goodies on his arms. Lucifer perked up at his arrival, eager for the distraction and now with renewed vigor to complete his task.

“Sorry for the delay, your Majesty. We made sure to make these fresh for you in the back. I’ll leave you to it, but feel free to ring the bell if you have any questions or require any assistance. Enjoy.” He scuttled away to the back, sparing only a quick look at Alastor, before disappearing behind the swinging doors.

Lizard-man had brought out exactly what Lucifer had requested and then some. Tarts of different flavors, garnished in a variety of fruits and decorative shavings. Cookies, warm and oozing, fresh from the oven and smelling divine. There was a rainbow of macarons placed neatly on a platter, embellished with gold flaking and the occasional raspberry. On a separate tray were little serving cups with what appeared to be layered mousses and cakes. Lucifer’s mouth watered at the sights and choices, unable to stop himself from reaching over and plucking a strawberry from one of the tarts. Its sweetness nearly brought him to his knees and he made a mental note to include the strawberry desserts in the order.

“Oh father, that’s good,” he groaned, plopping the rest of the fruit into his mouth. He reached over for the tart that he’d stolen it from, digging in with one of the provided spoons. “It’s been ages since I’ve had strawberries. You should try one, Al, they’re good.” He was too lost in the creamy pastry to notice the way the demon’s ear twitched in irritation at the reuse of the nickname.

“I’d prefer not to, your Majesty. I do believe this is a decision you seem more than capable of coming to on your own. And as you may recall, I’m not fond of sweets.” Oh yeah, he’d forgotten that little tidbit of information in all of the anxiety and anger and excitement of recent events.

“Your loss”

“Hm, I doubt it.”

Lucifer shrugged, dropped the conversation as he went about sampling the pastries, taking little nibbles here and there but always coming back to that first tart. He conjured up a notepad and jotted down his favorite desserts, ranking them in flavor, presentation, and ease of consumption. Time trotted along in this fashion: Lucifer would try something new, assess the flavor profile, examine the structure, and decide whether or not it was good enough to serve at the hotel. On occasion, he would offer some to Alastor–-because he was a mature adult who knew how to play nice with abrasive deer-demons–-accept the declined offer and move onto the next one. 

It wouldn’t be a lie to say that Lucifer was enjoying himself. The food was good, the ambience nice, and the music was mellow and slow. He’d complain about the company, but even Alastor was behaving, content with letting the little king repeat his thorough assessment of the desserts in silence. He had crossed his arms again and closed his eyes. If Lucifer hadn’t known better, he would have assumed the demon had fallen asleep, but the occasional twitch of his ears let him know that Alastor was well aware of his surroundings. But hey, if Al wasn’t going to pick a fight then neither would Lucifer.

The angel was just about finished with his list, taking a few more bites here and there, when the back doors swung open again and the lizard-man came out with one more platter. Huh, what’s all this, then? Lucifer watched with curiosity as the man came over to their table and sat the tray down in front of Alastor this time. He bowed slightly, audibly gulping as the demon lazily opened his eyes and fixed him with a stare.

“Apologies for the delay, sir. This isn’t a popular order and we rarely make them in-house. That being said, I hope you do enjoy them, Mr Radio Demon, sir.” He bowed again awkwardly before scurrying away lest he be the next unfortunate soul to get caught up in the demon’s claws. 

Interest thoroughly piqued, Lucifer glanced at the tray of desserts that the sweet-loathing demon had supposedly ordered. There was a pot of what looked like honey set neatly to one side as well as something that looked like jam and a shaker of something white. The angel wanted to ask, was itching to, really, but held his tongue at the scrutinizing look on the demon’s face. Damn, and Lucifer thought he was a tough critic.

“They’re called beignets,” Alastor said simply as though reading his mind. “Little squares or fried dough, very popular where I was from when I was alive.” 

The angel’s eyes followed the sinner’s hands as they spread a dollop of honey across one of the steaming desserts, following it up with a cloud of what could now be identified as powdered sugar. Fascinated, Lucifer watched as the demon plucked one from the bunch and brought it to his mouth, closing his sharp teeth around a corner. He let the morsel sit in his mouth for a moment before he started to chew, slowly and thoughtfully. He swallowed and Lucifer traced the bob of his throat as he did so, his own mouth hanging open, captivated by the pageantry of it all. 

He didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until Alastor set the rest of he beignet down, his eyes searching for any indication of favor or otherwise. His eyes drifted to the demon’s mouth, the creases of which were stained with sugar and the glaze of honey. The sight alone would set Lucifer off, enough ammo to fire off some snarky comment about table manners, but the angel’s mouth was, shockingly, dry. Perhaps from it hanging open for so long? He wasn’t sure, but he closed it with a snap anyway before the sinner could turn the scathing remarks on him, probably something about catching flies, no doubt. He coughed, licking moisture back onto his lips as Alastor brought a napkin up to his face, and there goes his chance to ridicule the man. Oh well, there would surely be more. 

“Good?” Only one syllable managed to croak its way out of him, and he’s lucky he got even that much.

Alastor didn’t answer him. Not right away at least. He folded his napkin back up neatly, placing it squarely alongside the tray in front of him. Only then did he look up at the king, whose ears burned under the intensity in the crimson eye’s looking him over. Alastor licked his lips, slow and deliberate, chasing the stray remnants of sweetness from them before answering.

“If I may, your Majesty, I would like to request that we add these to our order.”

“Done.” And no he didn’t answer too quickly, come on, but Alastor’s quirked eyebrow spoke otherwise. Lucifer felt that burning in his ears creep down to his face. He cleared his throat, looking down and busying himself with stacking plates in an effort to shield the glow on his cheeks from prying red demon eyes. “I mean, yes of course. I suppose I can allow it. You did accompany me on this errand after all.”

Alastor’s eyebrow quirked up even further, his eyes narrowed.

“Just like that? You’re not going to try one first?”

“Nope, no need. I trust your judgment, Al. No need to turn everything into an argument after all, right? Ha ha,” he trailed off with an awkward laugh, unease creeping into the atmosphere. Alastor’s eye twitched, mirroring one of his ears as he stared down the king and suddenly he felt very much like a metaphorical beignet under the red microscope of the demon’s scrutiny. 

Thankfully, it didn’t last too much longer as the sinner rose from his seat with a flourish, all bright eyes and smiles as he brushed himself off.

“Very well then! I’ll give our requests to dear Milton and then we can be on our way.”

“Milton?”

“Milton. You know, the nice gentleman who’s been helping us this morning? You really should be working on that memory of yours in your advanced age, your Majesty. I do believe it’s the first to go.”

And yeah, Alastor may be an asshole, but perhaps not the only one.

A few minutes later, the pair of them were headed out the door and back down the street, order confirmation tucked into Lucifer’s vest pocket as something jazzy and spirited kept time to their pace. Neither one of them said a word, merely watched as sinners crossed the street to avoid their path, and enjoyed the rare, comfortable silence. And if Lucifer noticed that Alastor still hadn’t conjured up his cane, then he didn’t speak a word of it.

<< Previous Chapter

Next Chapter >>

[staraxiaa]

shutter-click, the afterword:

author's corner/first thoughts.

firstly, to those of you who know what it's like, and those of you who don't, i hope i did these themes justice. i'm not sure if this is an entirely accurate representation - i tried to take some of my own experiences and exaggerate it into what fit for my vision of the story. i apologize if i have trivialized any aspect of it. also there is like. negative actual romance like the tension is not there bc i imagine them to be pure balls of sweetness and fluff and like. it will probably happen? but like 5 years down the line. i called this story shutter-click partially after the sound of a camera, and partially because when i think of pictures now, i think of the importance of the memories present in them. it could be the ugliest picture you have ever seen, and yet it still means something to someone, because it reminds them of something they might have forgotten once upon a time. that's also why the reader names the first collection shutter-click - in part in reference to the title, but also the importance of these 'pictures' that are carried on throughout life. i.e. nanny's grin, the first person to ever believe in them, which also helps them overcome a great many barriers. ngl i didnt think about the rest of the art. maybe the rest should also be smile-inspired. but i am not going to call it the smile collection. this was also in no way sunflower caliber LOL sorry. genuinely have no clue i feel like the pacing was really fast. too fast. shouldve probably spent more time with the growth era. i will very likely revisit a similar concept eventually ok now that that's over - rant time. this was the brainchild of a discarded mc concept for another of my works. i couldn't quite get her character to fit with my vision, and then this was born. i wrote all of this in a day. i said i would take a break. well, i didn't. lowkey a hiatus time now <3 sorry. really wanted to get more work done on porcelain but then i was like WHAT IF and then i thought of a kiri fic. and then u know what i realized? mc is literally just katsuki like. i am in despair like now i really want to make porcelain a coming of age fic too. discovering oneself, forging yourself anew. what if it was a whole collection. oh my god. please send me some katsuki asks so i can brainrot over him instead (please) mentally i feel like the clown meme music and a thousand bouncing balls in my brain all at once. i have been listening to the same song for seven hours. this was also partially inspired off the prompt 'tragedy of a spare heir' but really reader is neither a spare nor a heir so ? ? ? dunno man i wasnt lying when i said i was tired seriously though, thank you to everyone who commented + liked shared my first work. i genuinely never expected to receive such a positive response, and i hope that this one is up to the same caliber. i still think im a god btw im genuinely on 4 hours of sleep and just churned out like. 10k? in less than 12 hours HAHAHA #if i don't laugh i am going to cry #i want to carve my brain out and examine it. these last few hours were such a blur but it's over. i feel both defeated and glorious at the same time. this was also significantly harder to write than sunflowers. that one was so nice. so easy. i miss it. im never hitting that peak again i think seriously though i think it's temp hiatus time i am emptied of thought will continue updating as i think of things i guess

unwritten scenes, headcanons, more ramble? no clue

i'm not sure if social anxiety disorder/selective mutism is necessarily something you are born with. i am aware that you can develop it as the results of past traumas, but in this case, there is very little explanation about that - it's left unexplained in the fic. could both be from hatred of cameras (ik i hate having photos taken of me lol), but again, a lot of this is entirely exaggerated and fictional. sorry. the nanny was supposed to die, but i am tired. so tired. i did not want to write an angst scene that had no relevance to the happiness of the plot. so now u guys just have the most tooth rotting fluff i have ever written in existence. she doesn't appear again in a lot of the later scenes, did i write her in alive? if i did: she actually lives forever. literally immortal idgaf more about the nanny: i imagined someone who also had difficulties in communication, and i hope that translated in the way her speech was very often broken? idk if that was accurate i wrote all of her dialogue at 3am and passed out right after. probably definitely isn't in japanese. my english was not englishing at this time. i hope it was made clear in the fic: everything that the reader that thought about herself and her relationships was wrong, with regards to the parents/sister. idk if this is accurate, but in my mind, and from my experience, my social anxiety at least is that i overthought a lot of things, misinterpreted a lot as well. soooo actually guys you DO have a loving family! i am saving the trauma for porcelain! honestly, i thought about this fic, and when i think of midoriya i just think of pure innocence lol. does it reflect ? similarly to sunflowers, the themes were childhood friendship and growth. i once again skip out on my proper kiss scene bc i think it would suit them even less than the ones in that one. but at least she kissed him on the cheek. it felt pretty ooc to me though so i think she shouldve just hugged him. at least there is also that the thing is though: you're the one to do everything first. he's really hesitant, because he still remembers you as you were, before you were out of your shell. he doesn't want to push you, overwhelm you in any way. you definitely have to be the one to initiate everything -> i just didnt think the hug + cheek kiss together was in character for me but whatever i wrote it i hope u enjoy you kiss him and hes an absolute fucking dorky mess . but honestly this is like every step in the relationship originally, the all might figurine you gift him was supposed to be a birthday present in return for the camera. this is just a fun fact. also i know both of the characters were both supposed to be insanely socially anxious but that would never have worked out so i took some liberties with it/midoriya's character. hope it still makes sense? also hope that his ramble was in-line with canon oh yeah there was supposed to be a side plot with the dead brother. i cannot tell you what it was, seeing as how i do not remember. probably some form of traumatic thing i removed from porcelain reader doesn't have a described quirk cause i am on negative brain juice and couldn't think. you can imagine that it is something art related if you'd like. but i didnt wanna yap more so.

[serafiel-jacobs]

Down the rabbit hole (Fanfic)

New Chapter of my Fic series <3

January 7th 18XX

Pinocchio had told his father all about the the new friend he made, well, everything except the part where he got lost, Gemini didn’t say anything either, neither of them wanted to let the secret out and not be able to meet with Alice.

“She sounds like a lovely young girl, I’m happy that you made a friend so far away from home” Geppetto was proud of his son, making friends can be hard, even harder in an unfamiliar place, “Just be sure to come back before dark remember? Don’t stay out too late”

“Father, I’m not a five-year-old child, I know how to take care of myself,” Pinocchio said confidently.

“No, you are a one-year-old brat that is too over his head,” Gemini said with a smug voice, he was right, at least about his age.

Pinocchio gave a small shake to Gemini’s cage, “Shut up Gemini”

Geppetto laughed and patted his son’s head “No matter your age, you will always be my little boy, please take care, son”

So, Geppetto went to his work, and Pinocchio headed to the Royal Opera House to meet with his new friend, he asked at the entrance, and a woman pointed him to where Alice was currently, “A friend of Alice? Hopefully, you are in your full mental faculties” Pinocchio found it odd how people would make comments about Alice like that, it seemed rude.

Alice was in a storage room, it was filled with boxes that contained props and costumes, it had a bookcase in the back of one of the walls, but the most eye-catching thing was the piano that took up the most space in the room, Alice was playing a beautiful tune, Pinocchio didn’t interrupt her, the melody was lovely, Alice gratefully moved her fingers along the piano keys, until the last few notes came undone, at the captivating music was over.

“That was beautiful! I wish I could play like that” Pinocchio smiled at her.

“You know how to play the piano?” Alice was intrigued, aside from Nan Sharpe who taught her how to play, she hadn’t met others who played it, it was odd since she worked at an Opera house, yet only she and another man, the one in charge of playing when it was needed in a performance, were the only ones who could play the instrument, most of the cast sang, and most of the orchestra played string instruments.

“Yes, my mother taught me how!” Pinocchio always got excited talking about Antonia, “She is a great teacher”

“She sounds like a great woman” This boy was so full of energy and very innocent, but she could tell he was strong, and she needed the help, she felt bad for asking but this was a dire situation.

“I’m sorry to ask you for this, but truthfully I need your help with something’ Alice felt selfish, she had just met him and she was already asking him a favor, a huge favor.

“I can help, I love helping others” Helping others makes them happy and that made him happy.

Alice grabbed Pinocchio’s hand, “I need you to come with me” She took him back to the door to exit the room, but outside the room, the place was no longer the Opera House, it was a completely different world, the plain was filled with grass, but not green grass but rather it has a light blue tone, the sky had a shade of purple and it was filled with bright starts.

“Wow, where are we?”

Alice didn’t expect that reaction from Pinocchio, she expected him to freak out and start to panic, it looks like they have something in common.

“This is like, a place between reality and not reality, I found myself in it, and I help others battle with their mind demons, I battled to my own land, my Wonderland, and I want to help others as well” Alice had already helped a few in her quest, she knows first hand how cruel one’s own mind can be.

“This place is very pretty, how did you find it” Gemini was amazed by it.

“Well, it’s a long story and very bizarre” Alice took a small pause “Maybe the two of you are truly mad like me, how come you both find it strange?”

“Remember when I told you we helped save Krat? We have seen so much strange stuff” Gemini answered, they were just used to things like this by now, “Not the strangest thing we have encountered”

“Yeah, we love a good adventure” Pinocchio was thrilled about this, he came to get a vacation and he also got a fun new adventure. He was enjoying London so much. “So, who are we going to help?”

“That’s the thing…” Alice was wondering how she should say this, “This time, I’m not helping someone, rather, I want to capture someone, although I guess I am helping someone because I’m helping the victims, and preventing more victims”

Pinocchio looked puzzled, “Victims? Did some get hurt by this person?”

“Have you not heard of Jack The Ripper?” Alice rolled her eyes, not at Pinocchio but at herself, he isn’t from here, she figured he wouldn’t know who he was.

“No, but if they are called “The Ripper” then they are not a good person” Pinocchio could figure out something as simple as that.

“This man has murdered five women, no one knows who he is, but I found his world, I need to find who he is and stop him” Alice would be lying if she said that she was only doing this out of the kindness of her heart, but unfortunately Nan Sharpe still worked as a prostitute, and all the victims were prostitutes as well, she couldn’t lose her, and she won’t let anyone else fall victim, but as soon as she stepped into the world, she was bombarded with enemies, almost as if he knew someone was there to try and stop him if she could only get closer if only she wasn’t alone to stop him, then she could catch him, and find a way to expose his identity, maybe no one would believe her if she reported it herself, but thankfully the police accepted anonymous reports sent by letters.

“That’s horrible” Pinocchio was sad and angry, he couldn’t let someone like that get away with what they were doing, “Let me help, I want to help” he had set his mind to it.

“Won’t we need a weapon or something? How do we get one here?” Gemini wanted to help as well but he just realized they had no way to fight.

“Oh it’s very simple really” Alice gave them both a smirk and from her hand, a blade manifested, the vorpal blade, and then with a wave of her hand it disappeared, she showed them her arsenal of weapons; her teapot cannon; the paper grinder; her hobby horse (who was her favorite); the clockwork bomb, that one made Pinocchio gave out a small chuckle, he found it cute; and finally her umbrella to defend herself.

“You just have to think of it, and it will manifest”

Pinocchio thought about the weapons he had previously used on his quest, he found himself being able to summon each one he had in mind, the pulse cells too, and all the other objects he had previously used before, “This is great, this is so cool!”

“Alright, are you ready to go?”

“Yes,” Both Pinocchio and Gemini said in unison.

———-

They arrived at their destination, the world wasn’t like the one he was before, they were inside a mansion, a terrifying mansion, stepping inside, there was blood all over the walls and floor.

“Geez this guy’s mind is truly creepy” Gemini was sure it was more than just creepy, it was disturbing.

“Looks like the entrance is empty, for now, that is, let’s explore” Alice led them along, although with less than a minute walking, Pinocchio finally realized something.

“Wait, when did my clothes change?!”

Gemini was stunned, he was in Pinocchio’s belt all the time and even he didn’t notice.

Pinocchio was wearing a blue tea-length dress, the bottom part had butterflies flapping in rhythm, and a white ribbon was tied in the back of his waist, he still had his belt where Gemini was, but it was more than just one, three belts decorated his outfit, he wore white stockings with and black boots, he was wearing gloves, but not like the ones he usually wears, although they were also white, these gloves were larger and went up to his elbow, and the front of his wrist was decorated with two more blue butterflies, one for each hand.

There was a full-body mirror next to them, and Pinocchio looked at his new outfit in awe, “I look… so pretty!” Pinocchio had never worn a dress before, he didn’t know he could wear dresses, and he loved it.

“Look Gemini, your cage is different too!”

Gemini still wore the green ribbon that Pinocchio had given him for Christmas, but now the ribbon had a blue color and a heart in its center, it was simple, but Gemini also liked his new look.

Alice was wearing a blue dress as well, although simpler than his, black stockings with white stripes, talk black boots, a white ribbon on her waist, and the front part of the dress was white with two pockets with two symbols and it was stained with a few drops of blood, she hair was longer now, not shoulder length like him anymore.

“Yes you do, but we must move along before we find danger, or the danger finds us” Alice grabbed Pinocchio’s hand and pulled him towards a hallway, before she had to retreat last time, she had managed to find a way to sneak in further.

As they wandered, Pinocchio examined his surroundings, the walls were not only covered in blood but in guts as well, eyes were stuck in clocks that watched them move along, and the chairs and tables were made of bones and flesh, Gemini was right, this just too creepy. Finally, at the end of one corridor, Alice pointed at the bottom of a wall, a very tiny door was there.

“Alright, drink this” Alice handed Pinocchio a small glass bottle with a purple liquid inside, he found it odd, but Alice was the one to know about this stuff, so he did as she said, he took a sip and began to slowly shrink in size, Alice had drank it too and soon both of them were small as a mouse.

“Is this some, um, mind-altering stuff? We can get to our normal size again right?” Although Pinocchio had seen all sorts of abilities when he saved Krat, he had to admit some of these concepts were a bit hard for him to grasp.

“Oh don’t worry, we can go back to our normal size when we want, we can even get bigger by eating a small amount of cake, although I only have a limited supply for that, we better save it for the real danger, well I guess we are already in real danger, more so, the danger that is too big for us, and then, we will be too big for them” Alice formed sentences as if she was a rollercoaster.

Both entered through the tiny door, which led them to a small room that contained a bedroom, a bookcase, and a few drawers, there was a desk filled with newspapers, upon closer examination, they all talked about him and his victims, Pinocchio looked around and found a small diary in one of the drawers, they all began to read what it said.

“Today one of those whores at the Mangled Mermaid decided to turn me down, that ugly bitch, how dare she? I showed her that she shouldn’t mess with me, I’m tired of all these women who think they can reject someone like me, someone who is actually important, not some low life bottom of the barrel scum”

The motive was there, simple enough, he was just a pathetic desperate man with a delicate ego, the entries continued, most were of his hatred for women, and they found out that this man was someone in high society, someone with connections, after his 3rd kill, his murderers got more methodical, the other two were planned in advance, that last diary entry made Alice heart sank,

“This fat tramp at the Mangled Mermaid managed to get me banned from the place, her constant complaining got the better of the rest of the pimps and now I’m not allowed back there, she knows something, why else would they listen to a worthless whale of a slut? Pimps don’t care about what they say, she must have something on me. I’ve been spying on her, I know that you leave at the same hour every day Sharpe, you are not going to be like the others, I’m going to make you suffer”

Alice's head hurt, she briefly fell onto the floor but regained her composure, she had to save her nan. “We must go, the only thing to find is their name” As much information as the diary gave them, there was no name, and they also would need proof of the deeds, there must be something else hidden around this mansion that could give them clues.

They stepped outside and regained their normal stature, as they kept exploring, they came into a large room, this must be the main hall, the room had stairs that led up top, but from the floor, a black thick liquid began to form and disturbing creatures that were made of the ooze and baby doll parts began to form.

“That’s ruin, ugly gross, and evil in a single monstrosity!” Alice didn’t need to explain more, Pinocchio drew his weapon, and she drew hers as well.

A horde of enemies came after them, some drifted in the hair, and some small ones slithered into the floor; Alice and Pinocchio were fierce fighters, the hordes of enemies might have been overwhelming if faced alone, but together they made a great team, most of the enemies had been defeated, the last one fell, but it wouldn’t be so easy, it was too early to claim victory, as all the remaining ruin became a colossal creature, it gave a high pitched screech and charged towards them, at one point, Alice was about to be hit, but she suddenly her body disappeared and she turned into dozens of blue butterflies, before regaining her true form, Pinocchio was a but stunned, but he couldn’t let himself be distracted, he helped Alice by baiting the creature to attack him, and from behind, Alice gave the finishing blow.

They both wasted no time in going upstairs, as they walked Alice could tell Pinocchio was looking at her differently, “Do I have something in my face?” She was curious, it could be possible that she was stained with ruin and she didn’t even notice.

“No, it’s not that, sorry for starting, you just, reminded me of a friend that’s all, she can also turn into butterflies” Pinocchio was apologetic, he didn’t mean to stare, he just had Sophia in his mind at the moment.

“Yeah, and blue butterflies as well, what a coincidence am I right?” Gemini found the situation to be quite odd, what are the chances after all?

“I would love to meet this friend of yours, if she is your friend, she must be as interesting as you are”

“Her name is Sophia and-“

But Pinocchio was interrupted, and a new wave of enemies attacked, not just ruin, but malformed house objects made with disgusting body parts, they kept up with the pace until they made it to the final room of the house, filled with locks, it was only a matter of finding their way in.

“Let’s leave it here for today, we can come back tomorrow and finally finish this” Alice was determined, they had made it so far in just one day.

Pinocchio nodded and they returned to the real world, back at the Opera House, Pinocchio was thinking, what he saw, it was all so scary, so awful, but he felt the adrenaline, his fighting instinct took over, and he felt at ease that he wasn’t harming real creatures but rather figments of someone’s twisted mind, and he was determined just as Alice to find Jack The Ripper and stop him.

“Oh my… that has never happened before” Pinocchio’s thoughts were interrupted by Alice speaking, he looked around but saw nothing unusual.

“Huh? Pinocchio your clothes didn’t change back!” Gemini was just as surprised, his cage ribbon was back to normal after all, and Alice's clothes were normal as well.

“I suppose something went wrong when we went back” Alice might know how to traverse the place, but she was no expert, if she had to assume, this was a one-time thing, and the next time they went together, whatever clothes he came with won’t get lost in the transition back, Alice does remember one time in one of the first minds she helped, that a small octopus tentacle was left in the floor once she came back, nothing else has left that plain.

“I don’t understand, but, I like this dress!” He was excited about his new clothes.

Alice just smiled at him, “Why you look even prettier than me”

They made plans to meet again tomorrow and Pinocchio left to go back to the hotel, he got a lot of looks on his way, a few men blowing him kisses, Pinocchio was obvious about their true intentions, he was just too delighted about his new look, he entered the Hotel and his father was in the room, he had a blue paper with some sort of schematics in his hands.

“Son, what did you see today at-“ Geppetto looked up and saw his son, he became speechless for a moment, there was nothing wrong with his son wearing a dress, it was more the fact that those were not the clothes he left with, and they were specially not that ridiculously detailed.

“Did you buy yourself some new clothes?” Then Geppetto’s tone became a bit irritated “Did you buy those clothes because you ruined the other ones?”

“What? No Father I didn’t ruin my clothes this time! I just… um, lost them I guess”

“What do you mean you lost your clothes?!” Geppetto had so many thoughts in his mind, all the worst fears a father can have.

“Um, well…” Pinocchio didn’t know what to say, he couldn’t tell him where he was, I mean sure his father had seen a lot of strange stuff back at Krat just like him but explaining everything that happened would be too much, he just wouldn’t believe him.

“What happened is that we went to see Alice at the Royal Opera House and Pinocchio tried some costumes, and when it was time to go we couldn’t find his clothes, Alice said that they probably got mixed up with the other costumes and someone took them, so she gifted us the dress, it was something she made anyways”

Gemini had Pinocchio’s back, they wouldn’t let his friend get into trouble over nothing, and he was proud of himself for making up such a convincing lie on the spot.

Geppetto gave a sigh of relief, “Look, it’s fine, I guess something like that can happen by accident, I’m sorry for making assumptions” He really was sorry for thinking the worst, but hearing your son say that they lost their clothes isn’t something a parent wants to hear, there were so many possibilities and he was glad none of them were true.

“Father, I look so pretty can I wear dresses more often?” Pinocchio had a big smile on his face.

“Of course son, you can wear what you want” Geppetto gently played with his son’s hair, if others found it odd, he didn’t care, let people talk and think what they would, if wearing them made his son happy then he was happy.

“Although for now, it’s getting late, let’s get some rest” It was almost dark outside and both of them had done a lot of work that day, it was best they went to bed earlier than usual.

“Yes just um…” Pinocchio looked at his outfit, his beautiful, ridiculously detailed outfit. “How do I take it off?”

Geppetto laughed, it reminded him of years ago on his wedding night, how his wife ranted for an hour about getting her dress undone, but that’s something that comes with dresses, the more detailed, the harder they are to take off.

Geppetto helped his son take off the dress and promised him that he would later buy him more dresses, ones that were simpler and didn’t take 20 minutes to take off.

Pinocchio lay in bed, he could sleep, and he couldn’t wait to see Alice tomorrow, and finally put an end to what that man was doing, he felt like a detective solving a case, and he felt joy at the thought of saving others.

[eaglesnick]

“To some people a tree is something so incredibly beautiful that it brings tears to the eyes. To others it is just a green thing that stands in the way.”  William Blake

Everyone (of a certain age) knows the song Jerusalem. The music was written by Sir Hubert Parry in 1916 to boost British morale during World War 1. This song, words by William Blake, is the official anthem of the British Women's Institute, and historically was used by the National Union of Suffrage Societies. It is also the song that traditionally ends the BBC’s Last Night of the Proms.

I mention this song as it contains the lines:

And did those feet in ancient time

Walk upon England’s mountains green:

And was the holy Lamb of God,

On England’s pleasant pastures seen!

I will not cease from Mental Fight,

Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand:

Till we have built Jerusalem,

In England’s green & pleasant Land.

Yesterday we were informed that in this “green and pleasant land” of ours, one in six of British wildlife species is in danger of extinction. Bird populations are expected to be reduced by 43%, and 26% of British mammals are expected to disappear.

Far from being a “green and pleasant land” we are knowingly destroying the very environment we depend upon for our well-being. From polluted waterways and beaches to the sanctioning of pesticides and herbicides banned elsewhere in the world; from anti-clean air campaigns to the promotion of more fossil fuel extraction and carbon emissions, we are knowingly walking into an ecological disaster.

Neither Sunak nor Starmer seemed concerned about our countries ecological future, and neither it seems do many of our fellow citizens. The former are more interested in personal power, the latter more concerned about how much it will cost them in monetary terms.

A lesser-known poem by William Blake is “London” wherein he describes:

“The bleak, polluted urban environment that resulted from the unrestricted burning of coal, the discharge of raw sewage into the Thames, and the inexorable spread of contagious disease."   (J.C McKusick: “The End of Nature: Environmental Apocalypse in William Blake and Mary Shelly.”; Springer Link, 11/11/15.

If Blake’s  environmental apocalypse turns out to be as true for the 21st century as it did for the 19th, then we will only have ourselves to blame.

[the-witching-ash]

🌟 + Richie?

10 Facts About My Characters

🌟 Drop one of my characters’ names in my inbox and I’ll tell you 10 facts about them 🌟

1) Richie’s first job was with Luke at the diner, he’d been working odd jobs prior to that & started working to save up enough for a car. By his and Rory’s sixteenth birthday, he’d saved almost enough for it but not quite - with Lorelei’s blessing, Luke’s present for him was the remainder of the money. Richie asked if Luke would go with him to get the truck.

2) While in physical recovery for his leg after his football injury, his physical therapist strongly encourages a mental therapist as well, which is where he gets diagnosed for his social anxiety. (Luke was at the game where Richie got injured, managed to convince Lorelei to let him pay for anything regarding Richie’s recovery.)

3) He got into photography because of Rachel - he was twelve and wanted to know how her camera worked, she showed him how. Luke has pictures from that time, neither of them know.

4) Started off labeling himself as bi but realized it didn’t feel right, so he switches to labeling himself as Queer.

5) His was obsessed with dinosaurs as a kid, & after Jurassic Park came out, it became a major comfort movie for him. (Fast forward to later ages & many rewatches later, Jeff Goldbum as Ian Malcolm was definitely apart of his queer awakening.)

6) Even after retiring from dance & skating, he still helps out Miss.Patty by either playing the piano during practices, ocassionally teaching the younger kids the dance moves & getting them to pay attention, or by lending his free time to use the truck to help her transport equipment.

7) He doesn’t do all of them, but once he gets a better grip on his studies & depending on what musical Chilton is doing, he’ll audition for it.

8) He’d known he wanted to be a doctor since he was nine, but it took until Richard’s first heart attack for him to decide he wanted to be a cardiologist.

9) He doesn’t get his first psychiatric service dog until season six when he’s living at his own place and not in the dorms.

10) Between Luke and Sookie, Richie learned how to cook and by the start of the series, he often cooks and meal preps for himself as he tends to eat less take out then Rory & Lorelei do.

[browzerhistory]

🖋 for an oc you don't get to talk about as much!!

taking this as an excuse to talk about an oc set i've not actually posted about before: the complex >:) putting this under the cut bc it got long lol

so (in its Final Forme) it is/would be a webcomic, centering around five tenants of the same run-down apartment building: kris, markus, marina, alaska, and jaime. all of them moved in because of the ridiculously low rent prices for this particular building despite the relative closeness to the center of the city. after moving in, though, they realize something's very weird - nobody but them actually lives there, and none of them have ever seen the landlord.

each has things they're running from: kris bears a curse placed on him by his old friend group (and a repressed gender crisis); markus is a twice-orphaned ex-musician trying to keep up with his college's expectations; marina struggles with delusions and possible visions of the future getting tangled together; alaska has to come to terms with a worsening disability that keeps her from doing what she loves; and jaime has to contend with a returning eating disorder (and a demon possession but that happens later).

they inevitably end up getting forced closer together as the apartment building shifts and warps around them as if trying to keep them in, and all of their issues manifest in ways that are harder and harder to ignore.

another important character who isn't technically part of the main cast (as he doesn't live there) is jaime's estranged twin sister, havoc. he shows up shortly after jaime gets possessed because the demon answers one of his calls (because it thinks it should) and he's immediately suspicious. he acts as a set of fresh eyes for the other residents when he points out all the messed up stuff that's going on in the building that they've gotten used to.

and for a breakdown of each character (because i am Insane):

kris is a half-demon with one functioning eye, a bum leg, and a cracked-off horn. all are consequences of a curse his old 'friends' put on him while they were screwing around with Old Magic. he moved across the country to get away from them, but the curse is degenerative, and eats away more of his health every day. for now, he's working by day as a store clerk and by night as a bouncer at a club, neither of which pay well and both of which grate on his mental health. his dream is to work with animals in a rehab setting, but there's no world where he has the money or time to get into that. in the meantime, he tries to keep a good social life. he roller skates. he tries to talk with markus, who he has a crush on. he commiserates with alaska about chronic illness.

markus, similarly, moved across the country to get where he is. his birth parents both died before he was five, and his adoptive mother passed away when he was 16 due to complications from cancer treatment. he aged out of the foster system and joined a band that ended up breaking up when he was about twenty due to interpersonal conflicts. as a last-ditch effort to turn his life around, he applied for a scholarship to a music college on the coast and made it in. he can play guitar, drums, and a bit of piano; he sings, and he's got a good sense of rhythm, but he doesn't like the restrictions of college and the professional music scene. he likes singing and playing for the sake of it.

marina, in contrast to the others so far, had a relatively normal childhood. she'd wanted to be a florist when she was young, but that didn't end up working out (money troubles). she dropped out of college due to worsening symptoms of an unknown mental illness. the only truly unique and unexplainable thing that she deals with are the visions of the future, fleeting inclinations, which become more intense and more accurate the older she gets. at first, she brushes them off, but then, she pulls the fire alarm moments before a poorly-grounded wire in her old apartment shorts, and the ceiling begins to cave in under sudden flame. she brakes hard before driving over a bridge that collapses under the next car that drives over it. she's not sure what to do with this power, but she tries her best to escape it.

alaska is probably the most normal. she has no curse, no strange power, no exceptionally sad backstory. she's just unlucky. she works as a landscaper, has since she graduated high school, and she really loves it. she loves the physicality of it, getting her hands muddy; she loves working on a project and seeing things change because of her as she works. but she gets into a car accident, one that crushes her right leg under a crumpled car door. her femur is shattered, and despite her and the doctors' best efforts, she ends up needing a hip replacement, and travels with a wheelchair for six months afterwards. since then, chronic pain follows her and makes it increasingly difficult to keep doing what she loves.

jaime is probably the most comedic character. on her own, she's an instagram 'self-improvement' influencer who generally posts 'living alone in x city' content, alongside product sponsorships. however, she falls back into food-restrictive habits that plagued her in her teenage years (but more in the 'thinfluencer' sphere with shitty diet pills and weird juice mixes). in pursuit of what she thinks is a niche diet cleanse, she ends up summoning a demon and binding it to her body. the demon basically goes 'damn bitch you live like this??' and she realizes how messed up her eating habits are. she also starts trying to make amends with havoc, her sister, whom she had a falling-out with when the two graduated high school.

havoc is a mechanic and somewhat of a punk rocker. he plays drums for a tiny indie band on weekends and fixes cars and motorcycles on weekdays. he doesn't have many friends, but prefers it that way, and secretly really wishes he and jaime could get along again.

ok jesus christ this got long. i'm going to bed GOODNITE

[kuiperoid]

Obligatory Autism Awareness Month Post;

or,

My Neurodivergent Experience

[previously posted here, as well as other platforms]

[Post I made on previous social media platforms in previous years, so some bits may be a bit outdated]

It’s April so I suppose I need to make some obligatory post about my experiences as a neurodivergent individual, either about how proud I am that it makes me so super special or how awful everyone treats me. I can’t 100% give either of those, so I’ll just go into my experiences more generally.

It’s hard to say when the signs that I was “different” showed up. I had a tendency towards all-encompassing interests very young, but that’s normal even for neurotypical children. I was very particular about food, but once again, I can’t say that I did that more often than neurotypical children of other ages. I suppose the first sign was that whenever adults would ask me questions, they would get frustrated when I didn’t answer, thinking I wasn’t listening, when really I was just thinking about a proper response. The idea of answering right away when I couldn’t provide them with the best possible answer just didn’t make sense to me. As I got a bit older, I suppose I had the opposite problem. I would talk too much, interrupting my friends and giving them an earful about ferrets or spiders or whatever my current big interest was. My mother kindly informed me of what I was doing and how it wasn’t polite. This I actually understood the reasoning behind and I tried then and still try now to avoid doing this. I found an outlet to go on as long as I wanted about my special interests uninterrupted in the form of fiction writing, a hobby I have to this day. I was incredibly uncoordinated and bad at sports, which led to the little boys making fun of me quite a bit during PE. I was advised by well-meaning adults to practice so I would get better or stand up for myself, but my skills did not improve and, whenever I tried to say something in response, I just froze up.

Unfortunately, as I moved on to middle school, the fact that something about me was unmistakably “off” was still quite obvious, which led to me being pretty severely bullied, albeit by my neighbors in the classroom rather than sports field. I acted weird, I talked weird, I dressed weird on free dress days, I listened to music that the other kids hadn’t heard of while finding theirs unbearable. I wouldn’t learn until much later the extent of my issues with auditory processing, which have played a big role in my taste in music. One of my long-term friends, whose taste in music I have long shared, also has issues with auditory processing. I find it very interesting that many figures of the new wave scene, one of the few music genres I like - Danny Elfman, Gary Numan, the guy from Tears for Fears, and more - are neurodivergent, as are many members of the music scenes that I have become involved in. Writing and music were a big escape for the unpleasantness of my adolescence, between bullying, the fact that my other mental health problems were starting to become more apparent (namely, my OCD, which maybe I’ll write a big spiel about during OCD Awareness Week in October if I’m in the mood), as well as some other puberty-induced self-realizations.

I suppose that brings me to the statistic about the prevalence of LGBT+ identities in the neurodivergent community. People have tried to present all sorts of hypotheses about this, usually in a way that derides at least one of those, but I will provide a few of my own: first off, aside from the fact that the numbers are not that much higher, these statistics refer to out-LGBT and diagnosed neurodivergent people, neither of which represents the entirety of either community. Secondly, consider that someone in therapy for one of those things is likely to uncover other things. Lastly, and this is the one that I think is the most significant to me personally, it is harder for neurodivergent people to hide parts of who we are. While it is a myth that neurodivergent people cannot lie (my apologies to any neurodivergent people who have been using this myth to their advantage with their parents, bosses, et al), fact is, when you don’t internalize social norms the same way, you don’t see a need to pretend or, in some cases, you just can’t. My mom noticed pretty early on that I seemed “obsessed with gay people.” I was always talking about LGBT-related things in the news or celebrities. I got incredibly excited whenever I met adults that were in some way LGBT, flapping my hands and giggling like a maniac. I wonder if some of them thought I was laughing at them. She likely also noticed a pattern among the pictures I chose to decorate the wall by my bed with. Unfortunately, I underestimated the bigotry that still existed and I may have come out a bit too young. Between my social awkwardness and initially referring to myself as “pansexuelle” (I still don’t know what that was supposed to mean), it is no wonder that so many people in high school wrongly thought I had crushes on them. I always struggled making and maintaining friendships, so sometimes the ways I would attempt to pursue friendships came off as overly enthusiastic. I see now why people thought that, but at the time, it genuinely hurt my feelings when people thought that I was trying to romantically pursue them when I just wanted friendship and “people who thought I had crushes on them” became a whole new genre of villains in my adolescent writings. It was very hard for me to make friends and my strangeness pushed people away further. I won’t say that I or anyone is entitled to friendship, but it was hard. Some people complimented me for “not caring what other people thought,” but that didn’t feel right either. I acted the way I did because I literally did not know how to act differently, but I still cared a great deal about how people thought about me.

As a result of the various issues I was dealing with, I struggled academically. I always had trouble asking for help until it was way too late. I started to pick up on the whole concept of “don’t be yourself, people don’t like that person,” but rather than doing the whole social-blending thing that neurotypical people can, I invented entire new personas. I had a massive inferiority complex and felt that I was just bad at everything. A lot of the people who I became naturally attracted to just so happened to be much more academically inclined and often had some special talent and I joked that I had a “genius fetish.” Though people were attracted to me, no one seemed to want me on an emotional level and I understood why. I honestly became convinced that no one even wanted me as a friend. I went into a spiral of self-isolation.

One of my early relationships was with a status-obsessed narcissist who simultaneously told me how cute and interesting I was, but also fed into my inferiority complex. They would deride me about my awkward social behavior around their friends or if I dressed in a way they didn’t deem acceptable. I hear it is a common thing among neurodivergent people deemed “cute,” people like you because you’re adorably “quirky,” but don’t understand that your “quirkiness” comes at a cost. They were among the first people that I liked who I didn’t put on a pedestal and yet they seemed disappointed by that. On the other hand, I remember asking them if they’d had crushes on a few people who they seemed to talk about in a way that was, well, reminiscent of the way that I spoke about my crushes. Rather than saying, “no, they aren’t my type,” or even “yes,” they often said something along the lines of, “no, I couldn’t, they’re too wonderful and amazing.” This both confused me, as someone who had been attracted to many people who I had considered too wonderful and amazing for me, but also didn’t do much for my self esteem, for being attracted to someone seemed to be a form of debasement in this person’s opinion. I sort of let it slide because I had similar admiring feelings towards one of these people - they were smart, nice, and accomplished, but I wasn’t attracted to them, though that had more to do with them not being my type then them being too wonderful for me to allow myself to feel attraction to. Had they been more of a dark-eyed waif, perhaps I would have felt that way (maybe the fact that they were the only one of these people that my then-significant other would gush about this way that I never felt jealous of is telling). This was perhaps a preview of some more unfortunate things that would happen as that relationship continued that I won’t detail here. The most confusing thing, however, was the aforementioned status obsession. For all the concern about how I behaved around their friends, they didn’t even seem to like some of these friends. Whenever they talked about these friends to me privately, they always seemed to be complaining about them or even making fun of them. I didn’t understand why someone would be friends with people for any reason other than simply enjoying their company. This partner of mine was very into the idea of gaining some sort of status from these people, an abstract concept that my neurodiverse brain simply could not grasp. I won’t go much further into this particular relationship, which could be another several pages on its own, but I will say that that story has a happy ending and that, after we broke up, that person went to therapy, uncovered the Freudian source of all of their problems, and the world has one less unkind person as a result. Of course, the PTSD I developed as a result of that relationship was not a fun thing to add on to my existing problems, especially considering that I decided to move to another part of the state and go to “real college” after that.

For the many emotional struggles that I had during college, I am glad that I finally had a therapist that I was honest with (as opposed to the one I had as a teenager who I simply told I was “stressed about homework”) and received formal diagnoses. Now as an adult in the real world, diagnoses and all, I can’t say if things are better or worse. I remember being told that all the issues I had in high school, with people thinking I had crushes on them and telling a significant other of mine (people I barely knew, mind you) not to date me because I was “weird” would end once I was out of high school. Come college years, people still found my enthusiastic attempts to befriend them odd and someone else was warned to avoid me because of my “weirdness.”

Now, being twice as old, I still have to deal with some of those things, but I think I have navigated it. I don’t like the taste of coffee or alcohol, but that’s alright because my brain wiring means caffeine and alcohol don’t affect me the way they do other people anyways. I don’t like most pop music, but the genres that I do like have close-knit subcultures of interesting people. I still sometimes have to deal with grown adults acting like they don’t want me sitting at their cool kid table. At this point, when I hear that some family-adjacent person thinks I have some especial dislike for them, somehow different from the rest of the family, when I’m the one who probably defends them the most when they aren’t around and the person they think is their True Ally is the person I’m usually doing the defending against, I just laugh. What else can you do? My life isn’t perfect and, in the society we live in, it would probably be a lot easier for me if I were neurotypical, but why would I want that? If neurotypical society means answering questions quickly instead of meaningfully, bullying people who aren’t like you, listening to music you don’t actually like, hiding your excitement, basing friendship off of abstract concepts rather than mutual enjoyment of each other’s company, and a lot of buying into each other’s lies, I don’t see the appeal.