#i have been enjoying the book for the most part

[auroreliis]

Hey there, I hope I'm not spamming your blog too much

Also long ask ahead I'm sorry

I would actually enjoy the idea of Batfam with a reader who tried to impress them/ bond with them trough their hobbies

Normally it's only done in neglect fics(no hate to those I love them) and id love to see the reaction in a more fluffy scenwrio

Dick? Reader shows up to every single a acrobatics completion he takes and cheer for him the loudest , and one day come up to dick and show him they won first place in an acrobatics competitons turns out reader has been practicing in secret to impress dick

Jason? Reader constantly exchanges books with recommendations with him, and pays full attention when they rant about how good/bad a book is, one day reader shily approaches him and offers him a book they wrote and published themselves

Cass?(Warning I know nothing about ballet) Reader always tries to get her tickets to shows she's interested in, and even gets her meet and greets/autograph with her favorite dancers, one day reader offer her a single ticket for a new shows , with the excuse that they could only get that, and turns out that reader is actually the main dancer in the show

And obviously with Damian reader is often with him when he paint, and if damian feels like talking, they ask him about what methods he's using and what "vision" he has for his painting, eventually reader ask him to judge their paintings.

(im skipping Steph and Tim, because

The ask is getting too long and because with Tim, his hobby is genuinely investigating mysteries, so that'd s bit complicated since it's mostly vigilante related work,and I don't remember if Steph has a Really specific hobbie that reader can try, she's would just be happy to spend time with them)

Hey! No worries about spamming :)

If you're trying hard to get along with them, then they get very excited and that leads to fluffy scenarios!

Dick would love to do acrobatics with you and he would make for a great mentor. Usually, Dick is known for being annoying, but this is only when you don't engage enough with him. However, when you do engage with him, he becomes a regular, affectionate older brother.

After you finish your daily acrobatic training, he usually carries you to your room and brings you whatever you want. Water? Of course, right away! Food? Alfred's already making it! You want him to put a film on? Yes, hopefully you don't mind him watching it too :)

Jason adores the fact that you like his recommendations when it comes to books. It's not that nobody else in the manor thinks his suggestions are good, it's just that he most values your opinion.

His favourite moments are when you and him are sitting in the library during the evening, drinking hot chocolate and reading books. Neither of you are talking, but the silence is comfortable. Sometimes, he stop reading to look over at you, but you don't notice, because you're so immersed in the story. He probably looks for more books to recommend to you, intending to sit in the library in silence again.

Tim has many hobbies and many hobbies that you are unable to take part in. However, Tim makes it quite easy to spend time with him. For example, watching films with him is something he suggests often. Somehow, Tim always know what you want to do without needing to hear you say it, so if a new show came out, he immediately runs to you and asks if you want to binge it with him.

Watching shows isn't the only thing you two do, though. Tim also enjoys talking to you about anything. You have a new hyperfixation? Tim is the FIRST person you have to tell, because he probably also has the same hyperfixation lol. Somehow, the two of you resonate on every possible level and that makes any mundane activity entertaining if both of you are present.

Stephanie didn't know what to say when you asked her to play the piano for you, but she couldn't just refuse, so she played for you. You can imagine her delight when you asked her to teach you how to play. It takes a while to learn to play the piano, but that just means she gets to spend more time with you :)

Cassandra is delighted to hear that you like ballet as much as she does. She would practice ballet with you and plan choreographies to challenge you a bit. Whenever a show worth watching came up, she would be the first to buy tickets for the two of you.

Much like with Jason, Cassandra is also comfortable with sitting in silence. She doesn't need to have a conversation with you to feel seen by you, just being in the same room is enough for her.

Painting with Damian has become a regular afternoon activity for you, though by "painting with", I mean "getting painted by", because as much as Damian believes in your ability to make great paintings, he sees something in you that makes you the perfect muse. Whenever he paints you, his paintings end up being brighter, they make his other paintings look bleak in comparison.

He finds himself adding some of your charm to other paintings. Whenever he paints a landscape, it looks empty without your favourite flowers in the field. If he paints a room in the manor, he adds some of your objects, perhaps your sweater is hanging over a chair in the corner, or your headphones are on the table in the living room. Now he is unsatisfied with every painting that doesn't have a hint of your presence in it.

[olderthannetfic]

I think character/story analyses count towards fandom and are an important part of fandom, in fact. But recently I've come people who express the sentiment that meta posts and analyses are a waste of time and that people should be making art instead of writing essays about the piece of media. I think of meta and analyses (even if they are superficial analyses and full of simple ideas) as part of the process of enjoying a work. They function a bit like a discussion you might have with your book club about the latest thing you all read. You're not necessarily coming to your book club with the most innovative scholarly ideas about the work; you're there mainly to be like, "hey did you notice this part? I thought it was really cool." So what if what people have to say about a piece of media has been said a million times before or is wrong? They're not submitting their ideas to a peer-reviewed publication. It's literally just a thought someone had and felt like rambling about.

Anyway, my point is, "Don't Like, Don't Read" should also apply to meta and analyses.

--

[avoicebehindthestars]

I'm not so much worried about the movie delivering on the Aziracrow front. Michael Acting-Choices Sheen rests at the heart of this ship. David happily tagged along. Rob Wilkins ships the Ineffable Husbands something insane. And the whole crew know their audience.

BUT

The time restrictions are impossible to bypass. And there is a plot to be told - Second Coming, Heaven and Hell vs Humanity. All this will have to receive decent screentime. As a result, a lot of time Aziraphale and Crowley would have to slowly heal and become an Us will be lost.

And let's not even get started on everything else. We're all aware how many metas have been created on tumblr, how many analyses on yt, focused on the most intricate subtleties of s2. Crowley ticking off all the conditions to ask god questions. The tiny changes to the set that indicate possible time fuckery. Shots imitating tarot cards. I was so, so excited to dive into another round of this detective game, hoping that Prime might release s3 in instalments so the fandom could collectively enjoy trying to solve all the puzzles.

And then there's the fluff - plain and simple! The part that most fans adore the most. All the "do we know a Jim?", "our car", "three tones of voice", "you go too fast for me" - everything that really tells the love story of Aziraphale and Crowley. Not to even mention the minisodes/flashbacks. There's a reason why s1e3 is the highest rated on IMDB. All the through-the-ages sequences have long been the fan-favourite part of Good Omens.

Last but not least, the countless literary references! There's a whole group on fb dedicated to reading and analysing every single book that found its way to Good Omens, whether thrown right in our faces (The Crow Road), shown in one shot (Lord Jim, Pride and Prejudice) or just smuggled in the promo poster (Catch-22, A Tale of Two Cities, Treasure Island...). I'm gutted that now we'll most likely never know what they meant, what hints they were carrying.

Honestly, if I were still at uni, I would be writing my thesis in narratology on Good Omens for all the massive potential it carries. This story deserves so much better...

Ngl, I'm scared about Season 3.

So much of what I loved about Season 2 was all the character development, the "filler" (minus a few moments that felt like unnecessary jokes, but that's a whole 'nother post.) How queer it was, how much it didn't hurry to further the plot like I felt like Season 1 did.

I came into Good Omens as as Gaiman fan, and as happy as I am that he's essentially no longer involved, I don't know what to make of the Pratchet Estate taking on a major role. Yes, I know TP wrote as much if not more than Gaiman when it comes to the book. But it's the show I fell in love with.

All that said:

I know David and Michael, the latter especially, took a fairly platonic script Good Omens Season 1, and made it very romantic.

I know they acted the fuck out of a Zoom call for three seasons and it's still one of the funniest things I've seen.

I saw Michael Fucking Sheen cold read an entire play for a 500 person audience. And he fucking killed it.

I saw David Fucking Tennant play a character that has been played countless times. And the audience still fucking GASPED at a key moment in the play.

I don't know the new producers enough to fully trust them yet. And that's okay.

But I trust David and Michael as actors. And for now that is enough.

[oldsoul007]

beautiful boy

nicholas chavez x reader

summary: your bf comes home from work and just wants to be with you

I was on the couch reading my book trying to contain my excitement for when nicholas came home.

Nicholas stumbled through the front door, exhaustion etched into every line of his face. He had been doing press jobs non-stop, flying from city to city, and the jet lag was hitting him hard. All he wanted now was to see y/n, to find some comfort in her presence.

He dropped his bags by the entrance and made his way into the living room, where he found me curled up on the couch with a book. I looked up as he entered, concern immediately crossing my face.

"Nicholas, you look exhausted," I said, setting the book aside and standing up to greet him.

He managed a tired smile, pulling me into a hug. "I am. It's been a crazy few days. I just wanted to come home and be with you."

Wrapping my arms around him in a gentle hug. Nicholas sighed, leaning into my embrace, feeling the weight of his journey melt away just a bit.

"Yeah, but I'm so jet-lagged," he murmured, his voice thick with fatigue. I pulled back slightly, looking up at him with concern.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up," I said, taking his hand and leading him to the bathroom. I turned on the shower, adjusting the water to the perfect temperature. Nicholas watched me with grateful eyes, too tired to do much more than follow my lead.

I helped him out of his travel-worn clothes, my touch gentle and caring. I guided him into the shower, the warm water cascading over his tired body. I stepped in with him, my hands moving to wash away the stress and grime of his journey.

As we worked, Nicholas felt the tension in his muscles begin to ease. He closed his eyes, letting the soothing sensation of my touch and the warm water envelop him. "Thank you, y/n," he whispered, his voice filled with gratitude.

"Anything for you," I replied softly, my fingers threading through his hair as I washed it. The moment was sweet and intimate, a quiet connection that spoke volumes about our bond. In that small, steamy space, the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of us, wrapped in a tender embrace.

I held him tightly, feeling the tension in his body. "I'm glad you're home. Come on, let's get you settled. You need to rest."

…

Nicholas nodded, grateful for my understanding. As we made our way to the bedroom, he felt a sense of relief wash over him. No matter how chaotic things got, being with y/n always made everything better.

Nicholas lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind too wired from the constant travel to fall asleep. Me nestled beside him, my head resting on his chest, our fingers intertwined.

"Can't sleep?" I asked softly, looking up at him.

"No, the jet lag is messing with me," he admitted, running his fingers through my hair. "But being here with you helps."

I smiled, me heart warming at his words. "Tell me about your trip. What was the most interesting part?"

Nicholas sighed, a small smile playing on his lips. "There was this one interview where they asked me the most random questions. It was kind of fun, actually. But honestly, all I could think about was getting back home to you."

I squeezed his hand. "I missed you too. It's been lonely without you here."

He kissed the top of my head. "I'm sorry I have to travel so much. I wish I could take you with me everywhere."

"One day," I whispered. "For now, let's just enjoy these moments together."

They continued talking late into the night, sharing stories and dreams, the comfort of each other's presence making the time pass easily. Eventually, the exhaustion took over, and Nicholas began to drift off, holding y/n close. As he fell asleep, he felt a sense of peace, knowing that no matter where he went, this was home.

[tessa-liam]

Royal Adventures

All Hallow's Eve

Chapter 1

Book: Choices, The Royal Romance Series Finale

A Smoke & Mirrors Series Alternate Universe

Pairing:

King Liam Rys x F!MC Queen Riley Brooks-Rys

Series Inspiration: Royal Misadventures Smoke & Mirrors series 1-shot 

Series Premise: 12-year-old Crown Princess Eleanor Rys of Cordonia has officially started her Royal education. Tutors that had been personally selected by His Majesty King Liam Rys and Queen Riley Rys were set to begin her royal lessons, and her days were packed full. The young princess was a natural leader, and the King and Queen could not be prouder.   

Rating:  M, not Beta'd-please excuse all errors    

Category: On-going series, fluff 

Warnings: swearing, drinking 

Most Characters belong to Pixelberry Studios 

Chapter Summary: Ellie enlists help from her uncles, Leo and Maxwell to pull off a Halloween prank on her uncle Drake...with two unexpected situations that may spoil her fun...maybe. 

Words: 2.0 k

Royal Adventures 

All Hallow’s Eve, chapter 1 

Cordonian Royal Palace

"Ellie, you're so funny," William howled in laughter. 

"It'll be great," Eleanor insisted, her eyes lighting up with excitement. After describing her plans to her brothers, she was determined to make her idea happen. 

"Drake will never see it coming," Stefan agreed, giggling. 

"Okay, now I need Uncle Leo and Uncle Maxwell." Puling out her phone, Ellie tapped -

Ramsford Country Club - Golf course, 11th hole

"Nice swing, Your Majesty," Drake smirked slyly. 

Liam chuckled, "I can't believe it took us so long to do this." 

"Yeah, well, ruling a country takes a lot of time," Drake laughed. 

Handing his club to his caddy, Liam sighed, "So, what do you think of the club? 

"I have to admit, it's pretty awesome." 

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself."  Liam took a swig of water.

"I could get used to this," Drake replied, sipping on a cold beer. 

"We should do this more often." 

"That would be great, Li" 

Liam's phone vibrated, and he pulled it out to answer a call from his daughter...

'Hi, Daddy, can you give Uncle Drake a message?' 

'What is it, Princess?' 

'Tell him - Gotcha.' 

Chuckling, Liam replied ...

'Okay, sweetheart. I will.'

He put his phone away, with a puzzled look, and decided not to question her. 

"Ellie ... wanted me to tell you ... 'Gotcha'." 

Noticing Liam's expression --"What is it?" Drake asked with hesitation. 

"I'm not entirely sure, Drake. Give her a call later. Riley is planning a surprise party tonight for the kids."

Drake looked puzzled. "What the hell does that mean?" 

Grabbing another club from the caddy, Liam shook his head. "Yeah, well ... she has a costume waiting for me to wear."

"Really? ...they are going to enjoy an American tradition...New York style."  Drake chortled, "Knowing Riley, she will pull out all the stops."

Snickering, Drake added, "I want to hear all about it."

Liam raised an eyebrow, "That's a hard NO! Now, let's finish up our round." 

"Sure, Your Majesty."  Drake continued to snicker.

Meanwhile, in the clearing behind Drake's cabin. 

"Okay, Ellie, you're the mastermind, what do you need us to do?" asked Leo. 

"We're gonna need a ton of fake spiders, some black cloth, and lots of fake cobwebs." 

"On it!" Maxwell cheered. I had all the supplies dropped off after he left for the golf course.

"And the fog machine!" Ellie looked pleased, as Maxwell uncovered a cage beside it.

"That's diabolical!" Leo sneered as he opened a box of plastic bats and spiders.

"...and ... la meillure partie."  (the best part)...

"Perfect," she giggled. 

"What else, Ellie?" 

"Hmmm. I know, we can add sound effects for the bats, and the fan will swirl and make the spiders come alive." 

"How'd you get these ideas anyway, Ell?"

"From the best horror movie ever made," she replied proudly. 

"Which one is that?" asked Leo. 

"Nightwing." 

"That's an old movie, isn't it?" 

"Yes, it is," she replied, "but it's the best." 

"I'm surprised the nanny let you watch that," said Maxwell. 

"She didn't. Mom did, though." 

"Oh, man, your mother's gonna kill me," Leo groaned. 

"Don't worry, Uncle Leo, this will be so worth it," Ellie giggled. 

"I'm still not sure about this, kid. You really want to pull this prank on Uncle Drake?" 

"Trust me, Uncle Max, I promise I won't tell anyone," She insisted. 

"If you say so, kid." 

"All right, Ellie, we're ready," Leo called out. 

"Awesome, let's get started."

They placed the fake spiders all around the cabin and draped the black cloth over the furniture. 

"What's next?" 

"We need to put the real bats in the rafters." 

"The real bats? How did you find those?" Maxwell gasped. "That is so cool!" 

"I ...may have asked one of the menagerie guards in Valtoria." she replied proudly. 

"Damn, Ellie," Leo cackled. "I am so proud of you!" 

"Thanks, Uncle Leo. Now, let's get started." 

After their plan was set in motion, they hid behind the bushes and waited outside of Drake's log cabin. 

As the fog machine began to create a thick haze around the cabin, the lights inside flickered on and off, and the sounds of bats echoed throughout all the rooms inside. 

"Holy crap," exclaimed Leo. 

"It looks like the set of a horror movie." 

"It's perfect," Ellie beamed. 

"Wait until he comes back." 

"What do we do then?" asked Leo. 

"Hide, of course. I'll tell you when to jump out." 

"Sounds good to me." 

***

Drake was exhausted after his round of golf with Liam. He couldn't wait to relax by the fire with a cold beer and some good music. Not paying particular attention to the fog outside.

However, when he walked into the cabin, his entire body went rigid. 

He was met by a sea of cobwebs and fake, moving spiders. 

The lights flickered, and the sound of bats echoed through the air. 

"What the fuck?!" 

Trying the light switch, Drake felt something flutter on his head. 

"This is not fucking funny!" 

He searched the cabin but found no one. 

"Come out, now!" 

Suddenly, the front door slammed shut, and Drake was trapped inside in the dark. 

"This isn't funny anymore!" 

"Whoever did this is going to be grounded until their kids have kids!" 

"I'm serious, now!" 

Drake's blood was boiling, and he was fuming. 

"I don't have time for this bullshit!" 

Suddenly, the music began to blare, and the fog machine created a thick haze. 

The sound of bats echoed throughout the area, and the lights flickered on and off. 

Drake was furious, and he stomped over to the stereo, slamming his fist on the button. 

The music stopped, and the cabin fell silent. 

But the real bats kept flying, and the sounds of bat chirps were all around him. He grabbed a broom and began to knock them down. 

"Fucking bats!" he screamed. 

"Who the hell thought this was a good idea?" 

"It's not fucking funny, Ellie! If you're watching this, it's not fucking funny! Your dad is going to hear about this!" 

Drake was so angry that he didn't notice the front door open, and he was oblivious to the footsteps approaching. 

"Drake?" Liam called out. 

"Fuck!"  Drake jumped at the sound of Liam's voice, and his heart nearly stopped. 

"What the hell are you doing here?" 

"I came to check on you. I heard your yells when I dropped off your clubs on the porch. You forgot them in the SUV." 

"I'm fine," he grumbled. 

"Why is it so dark in here?" 

"It was like this when I came in." 

"I see. So, you're hiding from the spiders." 

"Fuck no! I'm not afraid of fucking spiders!" 

"Okay, then let's turn on the lights and get rid of these." 

"Fine."  Drake exhaled loudly.

Liam flipped the switch, and the cabin was bathed in light. 

"Better?" 

"Yes, much better." 

"Good. Now, why don't we have a seat and relax." 

"Fine." 

They sat on the couch, and Drake poured himself a drink. 

"So, do you have any idea who could've done this?" 

"Not entirely sure," Drake sighed, taking a sip of his whiskey. 

"Well, it was a clever prank." 

"A clever prank? It's not funny, Li." 

"Of course not. But, come on, Drake. You have to admit, it was creative." 

"It was not fucking funny. Someone needs to ground her." 

"Who? 

"Eleanor." 

"My Ellie? She did this?" 

"That's it?" 

"I think she had some help from Leo and Maxwell. She sent that message 'gotcha' to me, and I'm sure they helped her pull this off." 

"Yeah, that's it. And I know for a fact that this was her." 

"How?" 

"Because she's the only one who can get away with shit like this."

"Drake, come on, she's just a little girl." 

"She's twelve, Liam, and she's too smart for her own good. She is just like her mother." 

"Hey, I resent that." 

"It's the truth. Your wife is always coming up with some scheme or another, and now, Eleanor is doing the same thing." 

"Look, Drake, I understand you're upset, but I'm sure she didn't mean any harm." 

"You're not the one that was almost scared to death by bats."

"It could've been worse." 

"Yeah, well, it wasn't. It was just a stupid prank." 

"Look, Drake, I'll talk to her. But, come on, it's Halloween, and she's only twelve. Cut her some slack." 

Drake breathed out loudly, hanging his head.

"I'll make sure she apologizes to you, too."

"Well, I can't argue with that." 

"That's all I ask... now, I need a fucking drink." 

As the two friends relaxed by the fire, Drake decided to let his guard down and enjoy the moment. 

He couldn't believe Eleanor was able to pull off a prank like that. She had to have had help. He knew she had a mischievous side, but he never expected her to be so bold. 

"Well, I'm glad you find this amusing," Drake grumbled looking at Liam.

Liam, on the other hand, was amused by the whole situation. He couldn't help but chuckle to himself at the thought of his daughter scaring Drake. 

"Drake, come on, the princess just wanted to have a little fun. And, let's face it, you can be a bit of a grouch sometimes." 

"Gee, thanks." 

"It's the truth. And you know it." 

"Fine, I may have been a bit grumpy. But that doesn't excuse the fact that she scared the shit out of me." 

"Again, she's only twelve, and you were in no danger. I'll talk to her." 

"Good, thank you." 

As the two friends relaxed by the fire, Drake couldn't help but wonder what else the princess would get up to in the future.

"Here's to Eleanor Rys and her sense of humor," Liam said proudly, raising his glass. 

"May she always find joy in life, even if it's at the expense of others." 

"And here's to you, Liam, for putting up with me," Drake chuckled. 

"Cheers." 

They clinked their glasses together and drank deeply, enjoying each other's company. 

They had no idea that their princess had already hatched a new scheme in her head, and she was determined to get the upper hand on her uncle Leo. 

It was going to be a long Halloween season. 

As Drake and Liam enjoyed their drinks, the princess and her uncles were having a celebration of their own outside the cabin. 

"Did you see his face?" Leo chuckled. 

"That was epic," Maxwell added. 

"You were brilliant, Ellie," said Leo. 

"Thanks, Uncle Leo," Ellie giggled and hugged her uncles.

"Happy Halloween." 

@choicesficwriterscreations

@choicescommunityevents

🍁tags in the comments

[soodoonimin]

Logan Howlett and animal instincts (or in other words my long winded analysis of a comic book character)

So before I start, just know that I have read a lot of comics but I don't know everything. I can take notes all day long but I have a bad memory and comics are confusing so please be nice and enjoy, this took a lot of effort to put together, it’s mostly my thoughts on the character as I read the the comic books. The movie character is a lot different and I will also probably do something like this for movie Logan as well (though it will be significantly shorter).

Also there are some pictures that have blood and body horror so beware.

What does it mean to be human? Well that's a question we as humans have been trying to answer since we could think to ask it and ever since then we've never been able to give a fully conclusive answer. Why? you may ask, well because think about it like this, the traits we most often associate with humanity (higher thinking, creativity, empathy, and love) may not and some times do not always exists solely within us when applied to fiction, we write whole stories about how robots can be human too, how aliens can be human etc etc as long as they have these traits (more or less) AND LOOK I'm not going to get into a whole philosophical discussion about the nature of humanity on Tumblr.com but I do want to take a second to talk about how those traits are applied to Logan and how he has to fight to prove his humanity.

So mutants are an oppressed people but being a mutant isn't always the same for everyone. You can be a mutant like Rouge who can kill people with a single touch or mutant like Storm who can bend the weather to your will (the most obvious example). You can be a mutant like Jean with no obvious physical signs of your mutation or you can be a mutant like Kurt, where 9/10 people think you’re a demon of some kind.

But what happens when you're a mutant like Logan Howlett? I mean you look human enough, sure you're a little more hairy than most people, you have fangs, you smell, and oh yeah the claws but those are retractable so overall....you're just a normal person right? Nothing you can’t hide, right? Yeah, for the most part, yeah. But there are a couple of other things about you that someone might not know from looking at you, you have an extraordinary healing factor, you have almost animal like senses and when you are pushed to your absolute brink you go into a monstrous like a rage and kill everything in sight.

For every gift Logan was born with theres a very real curse attached to each one.

Healing Factor: Logan still feels pain, the healing factor isn’t just limited to his body but it also messes with his memories, and more importantly he’s lived a very long life. In The End comic and Old Man Logan comic etc, when he’s out lived most of the world, he’s miserable.

Keen senses: Seems great, until they’re exploited, imagine what being able to smell and see and hear that well all the time without relief must be like. Imagine not being able to tell when someone is going to die? Or when they’re lying or when they haven’t showered etc. sure you might get used to it like you might get used to pain but that doesn’t make it pleasant.

Claws: Need to really touch on this one? Aside from the obvious please remember that Logan’s claws aren’t in his knuckles but in his fucking forearms so when using them he needs to make an effort to direct them or….

Berserker rage: great to get you out of a pinch but you can’t control it. (We’ll talk more about this later)

Most people don’t see these very real downsides of Logan’s mutation, they just see a small, angry guy, who’s good at fighting and can take a hit better than almost anyone.

Here’s what worse, a lot of people (X-men included) don't see, they don't all the ways Logan hates himself (and those who do don’t see the depths of that hate he has for himself). They don't see the scared little boy whose father was killed in front of him. They don't see that little boy who killed his father's murderer and was abandoned by all but one person for one person (Rose). They don't see the young man who accidentally killed his first love while trying to protect her from his brother. They don't see the man who lived a relatively miserable life being plucked up by a group of people who only saw him as something to be experimented on. They don’t see the man who believes that if he loves someone he's destine to hurt them in one way or another because he has multiple times over (even if it wasn’t always his fault). They don’t see that for all the times that they call Logan an animal, he already believes them and he’s called himself worse many times over.

(Deep down he truly believes he deserves be to alone, especially in death. That would be his “deserved” hell. Eternal loneliness.)

Which is funny because I think Logan goes back and forth in deciding on whether or not he has any humanity in him in the first place. See in the Black, White and Blood comic, the FIRST story told in this series, is an account of Logan’s time at Weapon X and we get this…interaction:

Pourquoi tu me fais ça?///Why are you doing this to me? This "monster" asks him this on the cusp of death....

(Moments during the Weapon X program, be they real memories or not, when Logan’s humanity shone through)

And THIS almost immediately snaps him out of mind control he's under going. I don't know if he understood the words per say but I think even if he didn't, he still understood the plea on a human level. Because it wasn’t Weapon X who responded, it wasn’t the berserker, or Wolverine. It was Logan Howlett. It was a moment of humanity that broke the conditioning he’d been put through that answered that plea and stopped him. Because if you think about it, if these two memories actually are real, that means that Logan recognized this plea as the same one gave to the scientists. Now determining what did or didn't happen during the Weapon X program is difficult to parse out because they implanted false memories. BUT regardless of that there was always a part of him that held onto his humanity. But I think that just adds to the horror of it all. Imagine not being able to know what memories are yours and which ones are not? So let me ask, even if those memories are “false” does that make them any less real? Does that mean that Logan suffered any less under their stewardship? He was still kidnapped, he was still experimented on, still tortured. He still had the adimantium grafted onto his bones, he was still made into a living puppet and was still seen as nothing more than a weapon, an animal, a monster by the very people who were doing all of this to him and in some respects they are the reason he is seen as a monster by others.

At the end of that comic (where he was momentarily snapped out of his conditioning) he states that no his humanity wasn’t stolen from him but he still lives with that guilt of everything he can’t remember and the things he can remember are unreliable.

I know a lot of people haven’t read the comics so I’m not trying to do annoying about it BUT if you get the opportunity to PLEASE go read The Weapon X comic (by Berry Windsor-Smith) & Wolverine’s first limited series run (by Chris Claremont).

I specifically say that second one because I think the story that’s told is probably one of the more interesting told for Logan because of the relationship he has with Yukio and Mariko. I’m not going to get too deep into it because I really think you should read it for yourself but the basic outline of it is that where Mariko loves the man, Yukio loves the “monster”. And when he’s initially trying to court Mariko it’s his attempts to in a sense to court humanity but he fails and when he turns to Yukio. And for her part it’s not just as simple as her loving the “monster” but more than she goads it out of him, for thematic reasons and plot reasons. But needless to say, they both love Logan but they both love an incomplete version of him. (It’s a really good story and it’s literally what sold me on the idea of reading through any of the older comics.)

Anyway, (in the comics and movies especially) some people solely see him as a man with an uncontrollable side that they’d run from at the first sign of aggression and others only want that animalistic side and don’t love the man that Logan is. The thing is, he is both of those things. Think about it like this. As humans we like to think ourselves above the food chain, we like to think of ourselves as *more* than animals. And sure we’re definitely one of the most successful species of animals on Earth and we definitely don’t act on instincts in the same way most animals do, we’ve created society and rules and we do things a lot different than other animals but we are still animals.

So Logan isn’t both a man and an animal anymore than you or me. But he is a man that is more in touch with those animal instincts than the rest of us (bc of his mutation). Which I think is why when he does act on those instincts, people see him as less, because we (yes even comic book characters for this argument) only seem associate those traits with animals, with something lesser than ourselves.

The thing is, being “an animal” doesn’t need to be an insult or a condemnation of any kind. Humans are still animals but humans are still kind, and caring, humans have still created beautiful art and music and food and architecture and have got to the stars will probably go beyond the stars all while still being an “animal”.

So I think where most people get hung up on word “animal” is because it has such a negative connotation when applied to humans. And thus that negative connotation basically perpetuates itself so the only time we call other humans animals is when we mean to attack their humanity.

So back to Logan. Imo, there is no better example of this than the way people, Logan included, treat his (and subsequently him) berserker rage. Logan describes it as a monster that shares his soul, something else inside him, the real thing that makes him a monster, something that he doesn’t like, something he’s scared of, something he can’t always control but that he does everything in his power to keep away from the people he loves. Because Logan doesn’t like to kill, he doesn’t like hurting people. He might be good at it, he might be known for it but that doesn’t mean he likes it. Even when he thinks death is a deserved punishment, he isn't ever happy about having to kill. And he even says as much at one point in the comics.

And as a real quick aside, but this is almost exactly what sets him apart from Victor Creed. They're both men whose mutation gives them heightened animal like traits. The only difference is that Logan is ashamed of those parts of himself especially when they pertain to violence where Victor likes it, enjoys it; he goes out of his way for violence.

(If there is more to Victor Creed than meets the eye please tell me bc I gotta say I don’t actually know too much about him except that any time I see him in any Wolverine media I immediately laugh bc I know the two around to brawl. And I’m almost never wrong lmao)

And mind you there are times when Logan is also a hammer in the sense that he tends to punch his way through most of his problems. But he doesn't go out of his way for it in the same way Victor does despite having every reason to.

Logan has killed people but unlike Victor he isn't a killer. Even if that's what he's "the best at".

So when he goes into this specific rage that labels him a monster (an animal) it’s almost always in front of someone he loves and it’s almost always in a moment when he’s trying to prove his humanity (when it’s being used thematically and not for plot convenience). Like if you go read the comics 9 times out 10 when Logan is being called a monster or animal by some scientist or an enemy looking to humiliate him. But it’s almost always in the mitts of a life or death situation. A situation that anyone would fight light hell to get out of even with an amazing healing factor like Logan’s.

Because he still feels pain.

He still wants to survive.

He still feels.

And at the end of it all, he feels ashamed and horrified with himself and he'll always have to live with that guilt and shame. There's a point in one of the comics when he describes his heart as being slower to heal than the rest of his body and I think its interesting because although that story he's talking more from a "heart broken" sense. I also think that can apply just as equally to idea that it also harder for him to heal from not just heart break but also from shame and guilt. In certain situations, it takes longer for him to forgive himself emotionally because he suffers physically in the short term. He’ll never have a physical scar of his wrong doing and so he carries the emotional weight of it with him.

But also because he isn't just dealing with himself. In those moments when he comes out of that rage, the people he loves are in shock and are scared because they saw the “monster” and some people do reject it and in so they reject him and although rejection is something Logan thinks he deserves, it doesn’t make that pain hurt any less. it doesn't make it any easier to heal just because you agree with them, and in a way I think that's what slows down that healing process. Logan's inability to forgive himself.

Because that's the thing, Logan, would rather be scared of himself than forgive himself, be it because of his past trauma or because of the Weapon X program (which in the Weapon X comic it’s implied if not outright stated that the scientist at Weapon X are the reason he feels the fear he does about himself). Logan is scared of no one on Earth more than the man he sees in the mirror. And that’s because in his lowest moments when he looks in the mirror he doesn't see a man, instead he sees an animal, a monster. He doesn’t need the rest of the world to tell him what he already thinks of himself, it just doesn’t help that he has a choir of voices that are sometimes louder than his own telling him his worst fear is real. He is the monster that hides under his own bed but the problem is, while the monster is 'real' is a physical sense, it does not share a soul with him anymore than the boogeyman does. He wrestles with himself. Somedays he believes he's a man like anyone else and other days he can't drown out the voices telling him he's nothing more than a monster.

And as my last touch on the beserker rage, I want to posit my own theory about it. Personally believe to some extent that it isn’t part of his natural mutation and that instead it’s something that was “given” to him by the Weapon X program. The reason I say this is because I think it would make a lot of sense that like the adimantium claws and false memories it would make sense to give you “weapon” this uncontrollable rage (that mostly comes out in times of great duress). Not just because it would be one more thing Weapon X has taken from him (control over his own emotions/body) but also because wouldn’t that just make sense on the side of the people who ran the project? That your living puppet have a fail safe of sorts in case it ran into something bigger than itself? During the Weapon X comic, the scientist are constantly surprised by how resilient he is and even though some of this surprise happens in a false memory, they really do believe they can kill him at one points so if they thought they could kill him, why not something else? Why not give their investment insurance? And what better insurance for an animal than monstrous rage. 

But of course none of this is even to talk about the kind of person Logan really is. The thing that I think most people (in the comics) tend to ignore about Logan, in favor of focusing on his rough exterior (and some of his more questionable characteristics) is that he really does have a heart of gold. Now do not get me wrong, he can do some pretty fucked up shit (I will not talk about the Jean and Scott love triangle bc it gives me a migraine) but he does regularly do things that show how much empathy he has. That show that despite what he (or the rest of the world) might think, he isn’t a monster. The best examples of this are his relationships and more specifically the relationships where he’s a father/mentor. Like his relationship with Kitty Pryde and Jubilee, two kids that he basically adopts/takes under his wing and constantly goes out of his way for. Some of you might remember this post and the reason Logan does eventually fuck Wade’s shit up is because Wade literally punches the ever living shit out of Kitty in front of Logan. In another comic issue (after this), Logan beats the shit out of Wade again for punching Kitty, it’s funny but it also just goes to show that he does take protection of his family seriously. And mind you he doesn’t hunt Deadpool down, he find him by sheer plot coincidence when he’s getting a book signed for Kitty and the author just so happened to be Deadpool’s mark.

And mind you, Logan does have love for his own kids (Laura and Daken) despite the troubled nature of both this relationships but again those are a little more complicated. That’s partially for plot reasons but also because they play into just how much Logan hates himself that he struggles active show the same love for his adopted family to his “blood” family (again with Daken it’s a lot more complicated) but I also think that not only are his relationships with them fraught because of how much he hates himself but because both Laura and Daken were experimented on just and manipulated like he was (and in Daken’s case by a major player of Weapon X) so while he does love them past his own self hatred, they are also a reminder of his deepest traumas. It’s not their fault and it’s not necessarily Logan’s fault either, it’s just the cards their characters were dealt. (I haven’t read any comics with them yet so once I do I will most likely write my thoughts on his relationship with them each individually)

Regardless, Logan, depsite what he’d like you to think, is a deeply loving, empathetic and loyal person and this doesn’t just extend to people who considers family:

(Logan says this a man who not only a few issues ago was trying to kill him and his partner/friends. He saved Roughouse (the character he went berserk on a few pictures ago) because he was being experimented on in a way not too dissimilar to the way he had been by Weapon X. And if I remember correctly this is before he even knows how he got the adimantium in his bones)

He is James 'Logan' Howlett. He is a man whose life was stolen from him so many times over. He is a man who believes that the worse parts of him are all that matter and fails (or refuses) to see the good he has done in the lives of the people he cares about and believes that only death will truly bring him peace. He is someone who despite his flaws can’t help but to be kind. He is someone who fights like hell for what he believes is right. And even if he believes he’s a monster, even if the world believes he’s a monster, he will try to do the right thing because although he knows his soul is damned that doesn’t mean that exempts him from doing what good he can. He is someone who gives and good as he gets and then some. He’s the best at what he does but for him, that isn’t alway what he thinks it is.

And I think that’s the beauty of Logan as a character. Someone whose life is so wrought with tragedy and yet he is someone who can’t help but to be kind, someone who can’t help but love and care and find the humanity in the world despite the world seeming to be hellbent on taking his humanity away. Even though he (and many people in universe) might disagree with me, he is not only a one of the best humanity has to offer but he is also a shining example of the tenacity of the human spirit.

[sequinsmile-x]

Wealthy

Emily finds out she's pregnant, and she wants to tell Aaron as part of his birthday present. All she has to do first, is make sure it's still a secret by the end of the day.

-x-

Hi besties,

Here is Aaron's slightly belated birthday fic!!

It is a variation of a theme I wrote a long time ago, but with a completely different approach (IYKYK) <3

Humour is so hard to write, so I really hope you enjoy this!

As always, let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: pregnancy

Words: 3.2k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily smiles at the sound of her family’s laughter coming from downstairs, Aaron and Jack’s matching laughs mixing in with Élodie’s giggle. She can picture her husband making breakfast, their two-year-old on his hip and Jack next to them, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he diligently helps his father pour out the dry ingredients for pancakes.  

There were times when she still couldn’t believe that this was her life. That she had a husband and two kids. A boy she loved as her own who called her Mom and a little girl with her smile and Aaron’s eyes. Her home not the house she had bought with her trust fund, but the people who lived in it.  A family she’d built from the rubble of her old life, her days now filled with a type of happiness she’d spent most of her life convincing herself wasn’t real. The stuff of books and movies and fairytales made for little kids to help them sleep at night in a world that was big and scary. But it was real. She found it in Aaron’s smile, in the way he loved her so deeply and without condition. It was in Jack’s laughter, the innocence and hope in his eyes that he’d managed to keep despite everything he went through so young. It was in Élodie’s fearlessness, in her love for life and the way she would press her face against Emily’s neck when she fell asleep.

She blows out a breath as the timer on her phone blares out in the bathroom, and she quickly turns it off. She gives herself a moment before she looks down, a laugh turning into a gasp as as covers her mouth to capture it. 

Happiness was in the positive pregnancy test she was holding in her hands. 

They’d been trying again ever since Élodie turned one. It had taken longer this time, each negative test stealing a bit of her hope that she’d get to do this again. That she’d get to have a third child, feel another one of her babies grow beneath her skin and bring them into the world. Usually, Aaron would be right on the other side of the door, ready to come in and comfort her or celebrate with her, but today was different for two reasons. 

Firstly, this time she was sure she was pregnant. She was exhausted, her boobs hurt, she needed to pee all the time and all of a sudden she felt like a bloodhound - coffee, hot sauce and anything with a strong smell enough to make her gag the moment she noticed them. 

The second reason was that it was Aaron’s birthday. 

She hadn’t told him her suspicions partially because she didn’t want to let him down again. She knew he hid his disappointment from her each month, all of his concentration on her and her feelings, his own sadness pressed into kisses he’d drop against the top of her head as she threw away another negative test. 

She also just really wanted to surprise him. 

A part of her that she couldn’t ignore, a part that was an old romantic, had come back to life when she first kissed Aaron. It had been laying dormant for a long time, pushed down into the recesses of her chest to a place she thought it would never escape from, but he brought it out of her. Made her want to do silly, cheesy, things like find an adorable way to tell her husband that he was going to be a father again. It was even more important to her since she hadn’t had the chance to do it with Élodie. They’d found out she existed by mistake, a simple check-up in a hospital in a town Emily had forgotten the name of after an unsub got a little rough with her during his arrest. Aaron had insisted she went to the hospital, something he’d claimed was the right call when the doctor confirmed she had a concussion, and she agreed because she could never so no when he looked at her with worry shining in his eyes.

She knew she’d never forget the look on the doctor’s face when he casually mentioned her pregnancy, clearly unaware they didn’t know until she and Aaron looked at him like he’d grown two heads. 

As much as she loved that part of their story, she wanted it to be different this time. She wanted to tell him herself, to see the joy take over his face and as the realisation set in, his dimples carved out in his cheeks before he pulled her into a tight hug. 

She wanted the stuff of movies and books and fairytales. 

She chuckles as she looks down at the test again and she slips it back into the box and then her purse, not wanting Aaron to accidentally come across it whilst she was at work. She wipes a tear from her cheek and then presses her hand onto her belly, rubbing her thumb back and forth just below her belly button.

“Well, you have excellent timing baby,” she says blowing out a breath, knowing she had to somehow get it together before she went downstairs. Aaron may have retired when Élodie was born, but he was still a damn good profiler, and she didn’t want him to see that something had changed the moment he looked at her. She had a plan that involved telling him when she got home from work when Jack and Élodie were in bed and it was just the two of them, “I love you so much already, and Daddy does too. Even if he doesn’t know about you yet.” 

She looks at herself once in the mirror, makes sure her makeup hasn’t slipped down her cheeks along with her happy tears, and she grabs her purse from the counter and heads downstairs. 

She smiles as she walks into the kitchen, holding her breath for a moment when the smell of coffee overwhelms her, swallowing thickly against the bile that attempts to rise up her throat. She’d distracted from the nausea when Jack runs over and wraps his arms around her. 

“Morning, kiddo,” she says, hugging him back and ruffling his hair, “Did you sleep okay?”

He nods, leaning against her for a second, “Did you sleep okay, Mom?” 

His kindness, the way he cared for others, never failed to amaze her. He never failed to make her proud to be his mom, “I slept just fine, baby.” 

“Mama!” Élodie calls out from Aaron’s arms, apparently bored of not being the centre of her mother’s attention. Emily smiles and squeezes Jack before she steps away, her arms open wide to her daughter. 

“Hi sweet girl,” she says, taking her from Aaron and kissing her forehead before she leans in to kiss her husband, smiling when she tastes pancake batter on his lips, “And happy birthday to the birthday boy,” she says, stamping her lips against his again. 

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he says, his hand seeking out her hip, “Do you want birthday pancakes before you head to work?” 

She smiles to cover the way her stomach lurches at the thought, and she shakes her head, “I don’t think I’ll have time, honey,” she says, “I’m sorry I have to work on your birthday-”

“Em, you don’t have to apologise,” he says, cutting her off, his smile soft and full of love, “I used to do the job, remember? I get it.” 

She’d taken over as Unit Chief when he retired, her cumulative experience in the BAU and her time at Interpol enough to make her more than qualified. She’d struggled with the idea of it at first, sure Aaron would have a problem with her literally replacing him, but he’d been nothing but supportive. 

“I’ll be home for dinner, okay?” She promises, knowing it was one she could keep because Penelope had assured her there would be no cases until after Aaron’s birthday, a statement she had chosen to not question any further, sure that plausible deniability would help her if needed. 

“Okay,” he says, kissing her again before he steps back, allowing her a moment to say goodbye to Élodie before he takes her back, “Okay Mini Hotch’s,” he says, smiling when Emily rolls her eyes at the nickname the team had assigned the kids, “Let’s eat breakfast,” he turns to Jack and smiles, “And then it’s time to get ready for school, buddy.” 

Jack nods and starts to plate up his breakfast, and Emily smiles at Aaron, “I’ll see you later, at lunchtime?”

“See you later, sweetheart. Love you.” 

She smiles and steps out of the kitchen, “I love you too.” ___

The team were acting strangely. 

She noticed the moment she arrived. They were looking at her and whispering when they thought she wasn’t paying attention, and the moment they knew she was paying attention they were acting like Élodie and Jack when they were caught doing something they shouldn’t be doing. Looking up at the ceiling and pretending she couldn’t see them. 

It comes to a head during the team meeting. Her ever-present nausea, the ache in her boobs and her sudden aversion to everything with milk in it, meaning she couldn’t have her favourite tea, was making her aggravated, so she does the one thing she never does with her team. With her friends. 

She loses her patience. 

“Okay,” she says, cutting Derek off as he throws another weird look at her as he’s discussing a case, and she throws her pen down on the round table, “What’s going on?” 

They all go wide-eyed, their matching expressions something that would make her laugh if they weren’t pissing her off so much. They look at each other and Dave clears his throat, nominating himself as the group’s spokesperson. 

“Why do you think something is going on?” 

She glares at him and narrows her eyes, “You’re all acting like we’re in high school and there’s a rumour about me you’re all discussing,” she says, knowing she’s on to something the moment Penelope avoids eye contact with her, “So will someone please tell me what is going on so we can go back to being adults with important jobs, not teenagers with nothing better to do.” 

The team all look at each other again and JJ sighs, her hands clasped on the table in front of her as she leans forward, “We…we know you’re pregnant.” 

Whatever Emily thought they were going to say, it wasn’t that. Her mouth falls open a few times as she tries to figure out what to say, at a loss for words until she finally chokes out a response, “What?” 

“We know you’re pregnant,” JJ repeats, “Em, I am so sorry-”

“How…how the hell do you all know?” She asks, looking back and forth between them all, “I only found out a couple of hours ago. The pregnancy test is still in my purse.” 

Derek screws up his face, “You peed on something and then put it in your purse?” He asks, his disgust turning into something close to fear when she glares at him, “Not the point, I know.” 

She blows out a slow breath, “How do you all know?” 

The room falls into silence for a moment before Dave pipes up, “Derek told me.” 

“Well JJ told me,” Derek says, immediately trying to take himself out of the line of fire, making JJ scoff and throw her pen at him. 

“Penelope told me,” she says, raising her eyebrow at the other women, “Only minutes after she found out by the way.” 

Emily turns to look at Penelope and raises her eyebrow, “Pen…”

“Reid told me!” She says, blurting it out, surprising everyone else in the room except her and the man in question, all of them now looking at her like she had lost her mind before they turn to look at Spencer, their heads tilted in curiosity. 

“I might live to regret this question,” Emily says, her irritation tampered down by shock, “But how the hell did you know I was pregnant?” 

Spencer, his eyes wide like he was a deer in headlights, swallows thickly, “I don’t know if I want to answer.” 

“Spencer,” she says, her tone a warning that she usually uses on the kids, and he nods clearing his throat. 

“Your period was late.” 

For the second time in a few minutes, she finds herself speechless, “I knew I’d regret asking,” she murmurs to herself, rubbing her temple. 

“How the hell do you know that, boy genius?” Derek asks, “Little creepy.” 

“It’s a pattern,” he exclaims, his hands up to defend himself, “I’m good at recognising them, and she hasn’t had milk in her tea for days, just like when she was having Élodie, and-”

“I think we’ve all heard enough,” Emily says, stopping him from going any further. She sighs and shakes her head, “Look, Aaron doesn’t know yet. And I’m telling him later so for your sake,” she says, addressing them all, “You’d better hope one of you doesn’t tell him.” 

“We’re not going to see him before you tell him, ” Derek assures her and she rolls her eyes. 

“He and Él are coming to get me for lunch because it’s his birthday.” 

They all go wide-eyed again, and this time she sees the humour in it, barely hiding her smile as JJ nods, “We’ll make sure we’re out of the way when he gets here,” she says, and she turns to Spencer, “Do you track all of our menstrual cycles?” 

Dave leans over and pats Spencer on the shoulder, “As someone who’s worked in law enforcement since before you were born, kid - my advice on this is to plead the fifth.”

___

She’s grateful that by the time she’s home for the evening, Aaron is none the wiser. The team kept their promise a little too well and entirely avoided him when he came in to meet her for lunch. If he thought it was strange he didn’t say anything, happy to be having lunch with his wife and his little girl on his birthday. 

As soon as Emily was home they ordered dinner, and after they ate she sat and watched Aaron open his gifts, smiling as Élodie sat in her lap. Clapping her tiny hands as Aaron made a big deal of the hand-made cards from her and Jack. Once he’d opened all of his gifts from Emily and the kids, bar the one still in her purse, they put the kids to bed. They divide and conquer - something she knows will be harder when they add a third kid to their family - and she paces Élodie’s room with the toddler in her arms until she falls asleep. She takes a moment to breathe her in, to acknowledge that the countdown is now on until Élodie is no longer the baby of the family, and she lays her down in her bed. 

“Good night, sweet girl,” she says, kissing her forehead, “Mama loves you.” 

She sneaks out of the room and pauses, smiling when she hears Aaron downstairs. She pops into Jack’s room, kisses him on the forehead and adjusts the covers around him before she heads downstairs, nerves tingling under her skin as she grabs her purse and pulls the small gift bag out of it, the pregnancy test from that morning safely tucked inside of it. 

“Honey,” she calls out, “Where are you?” 

“In the living room,” he calls back and she follows his voice, smiling when she finds him sitting on the couch, her gaze drawn towards the two glasses of champagne on the table, the bubbles distracting her for a moment before Aaron clears his throat, “Is that for me?” 

She looks down at the bag in her hands and she nods, joining him on the couch, her knees knocking against his as she gets as close as she can, “Yeah, it is,” she says as she hands it over, her lips pressed together as she tries to contain her smile, “I wanted to wait until the kids were in bed.” 

He smiles and opens the bag, pushing aside the tissue paper, “I’m glad,” he says dryly, raising his wrist as he raises his eyebrow at her, “I was starting to think that the Rolex was going to be my only gift…” he drifts off when he pulls out the pregnancy test, his words caught in his throat as he looks down at the digital screen. He looks back up at her, his eyes shining, “Em…”

“I took the test this morning,” she says, swallowing thickly, “I had a feeling and I was right.” 

“We’re having another baby?” He asks, and she nods, a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh caught in her throat. 

“Yeah, we’re having another baby,” she says, and he pulls her into a hug, his arms tight around her, “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” he replies, kissing the top of her head and then her lips as he pulls back, “This is the best birthday present ever.” 

She chuckles, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she rests her forehead against his, “Even better than the Rolex?” 

“Better than a dozen Rolexs,” he says, kissing her again before he reaches for the glasses on the coffee table, “Here you go, we should celebrate.” 

She smiles and clinks her glass against his, taking a sip before she thinks about it. She realises what she’s done the moment she drinks it, but frowns when she tastes apple cider, not champagne. She swallows it and frowns at her husband, narrowing her eyes at the obvious attempt to hide a smile, “Wait, this is apple cider.” 

He clears his throat and takes a sip, “Yes. It is.” 

She stares at him for a few seconds, trying to figure out what his smirk means, but then it clicks, and she gasps as she lightly hits his chest, “You knew I was pregnant?” 

He nods, reaching out for her hand when she tries to slap his chest again and lifts it to kiss her knuckles, “Yes. But-”

“How did you know? Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“You’ve been exhausted lately, you can barely stand the smell of coffee and this morning you went green over the mention of pancakes,” he says, kissing her knuckles again before he lets their joint hands fall to his lap, “And I didn’t tell you because I knew how important it was to you to tell me.” 

She shakes her head at him lovingly and leans in to kiss him, “You’re a good man, Aaron Hotchner,” she says, kissing him again, “The best actually,” she leans against him and lets herself enjoy the moment, takes it and sits in it before she furrows her brow and looks up at him, “This means I was the last to know that I’m pregnant.” 

He smiles and then it slips into a frown, his brows furrowing together, “Wait, what do you mean you were the last to know?” 

[benispunk]

Who's that girl?

Chapter 4: Before We Speak

Logan always has to be the strong figure, even when everything wants to fall apart.

logan howlett x reader

TW: language, D&W, mentions of dark backgrounds.

A/N: hello lovelies!! fourth chapter is up whoop whoop🎉. this one is entirely focused on Logan because why not? this is a day in our little honey badger's life and I'm not sorry for anything. it could have been way worse. thanks for all the support on this series!! enjoy this part <3

→ this fic is inspired by the TV Show New Girl, Wade and Logan aren't Deadpool and Wolverine (no powers/mutant gene etc) but I did take most of their character traits and storyline!!

Masterlist / Previous Part

Beep Beep Beep Be—

Sometimes Logan wondered how he still hadn’t destroyed that damn alarm clock. He woke up slowly, his body heavy from the comfort of sleep. Finally glancing at his worst enemy of his every morning, he read: 5:30 AM. Time to start the day.

He got up and opened the blinds, though the sun wasn’t up yet, and except for some other people in other buildings, nobody was up yet either. 

After a quick shower and pulling on some shirt and jeans, Logan grabbed his keys and backpack, trying not to make too much noise for his roommates that were probably still sleeping deeply.

You’ll sleep later, Logan.

As he stepped outside of the building, the cool morning air hit his face, waking him up fully.

Logan was the one in charge of opening the center and he preferred going there way earlier than everyone else just to get a moment of peace and calm before the chaos started. He checked every room and classes, making sure everything was ready for the day and once this was done, he sat down and served himself one well-deserved cup of (disgusting) coffee.

The center was a large, well-worn building. It wasn't much to look at from the outside—just a faded brick structure with narrow windows—but inside, it was full of life. Colorful posters lined the walls, some painted by the kids themselves, and inspirational quotes were scattered around, the kind that Logan never really cared for but knew meant something to someone.

The lounge area where he sat was small but cozy, with mismatched chairs and a sagging couch that had seen better days. A few shelves were filled with books and board games, and the corner had a coffee station that barely worked. Yet, this was his place— a refuge in the chaos.

Beyond the lounge, the rest of the center sprawled out: classrooms where kids of all ages learned in their own ways, sensory rooms with soft lights and calming music, a large gym where activities were held, and a garden out back where they often took the kids for fresh air. It was more than just a special school; it was a sanctuary for those who needed it.

As Logan scanned the room, his thoughts drifted. He wasn’t one to reflect much, but opening the center every day before anyone else arrived had become his ritual, a moment to prepare for the storm of the day ahead. Today would be like any other— he’d make sure the supplies were ready, the classrooms set, and his mind focused.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by the hum of the automatic doors opening.

“Good morning, Logan.”

Logan’s daydream was interrupted by the familiar voice of Charles. The older man entered the lounge in his wheelchair, his presence as steady as ever. Charles had been the head of the center for as long as Logan could remember.

Logan nodded, setting down his coffee. “Morning, Charles.”

Charles wheeled himself closer, pausing just in front of Logan. “Early, as always. You know, you don’t have to get here before the sun’s up every day.”

Logan grunted in response, though there was a faint smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “Old habits die hard.”

Charles chuckled. “Well, I appreciate it. Keeps the place running smoothly.” He paused, glancing around the lounge, his expression softening. “How’s everything looking for today?”

Logan leaned back, arms crossed over his chest. “Classes are prepped, gym’s ready. Couple new kids starting this week, so I’ll be keeping an eye on them. Should be a normal day.”

Charles nodded thoughtfully, though there was something in his eyes that made Logan pause. “What?” Logan asked.

“Just thinking,” Charles said, his voice dropping a bit. “It’s a shame, isn’t it? All this work, and now…” He trailed off, and Logan knew exactly what he meant. The center was struggling. Funding cuts, low enrollment— there had been rumors for months now that they might not last much longer. It wasn’t the first time Charles had hinted at it, but hearing it out loud still hit Logan in the gut every time.

“We’ll figure it out,” Logan said, though even he wasn’t sure how much he believed it.

Charles nodded again, but there was a heaviness to the gesture. “I hope you’re right, Logan. For their sake.” he said, gesturing vaguely towards the classrooms, where the kids would soon arrive, full of energy and life.

Logan didn’t respond. He wasn’t one for long conversations, especially not ones that reminded him of things he couldn’t fix. Instead, he stood up and grabbed his coffee, raising it towards Charles in a silent gesture. “I’ll be in the gym.”

Charles watched him go, his expression unreadable.

The gym was Logan’s favorite part of the center. High ceilings, wide-open spaces, and the kind of place where he could let the kids run wild. He liked the controlled chaos of it all—kids bouncing off the walls, their laughter echoing, and the satisfaction of seeing them engage in a world that often felt too overwhelming for them. Here, they were free. Here, they were just kids.

As he stepped inside, Logan could already hear the hum of the day beginning. Soon the first teachers would trickle in. He checked the schedule on the clipboard hanging by the door, making mental notes of the day’s activities. But even as he planned, his thoughts lingered on Charles' words.

What if the center shut down? What would happen to the kids? What would he do?

He shoved the thought away for now, focusing on the present. There were kids to be taken care of today, and that's what mattered.

A sharp sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway, pulling Logan's attention to the door. The first wave of staff was arriving.

The first few kids arrived not long after them. Logan could hear their familiar voices echoing down the hallway, some excited, some grumpy from early wake-ups, but all of them ready to start their day. As they trickled in, Logan stood by the entrance to greet them.

"Morning, Bobby," Logan said as a boy with dark, tousled hair bounded through the door, his backpack almost as big as he was.

"Morning, Mr. Howlett!" Bobby called back with a wide grin, not slowing down as he headed straight for the gym.

Next was Kitty, one of the quieter students, who gave him a shy wave as she walked in, hugging her notebook to her chest.

"Morning, Kitty," Logan said softly, offering her a small smile. She nodded without a word, as always, but Logan could see the relief in her eyes. She always felt safe here.

The rest of the group trickled in—about a dozen kids in all, each with their own unique personalities and quirks. Logan knew them well, better than most. He could read their moods just by the way they walked in, and today seemed to be a good day. No tantrums, no meltdowns. Yet.

Once everyone was inside, Logan led them to the first class of the day. History wasn’t always the easiest subject to teach, but Logan had a way of making it work. He kept things simple, focusing on the stories behind the facts— because that’s what kids understood best, the stories.

As they settled into their seats, Logan stood at the front of the small classroom, a whiteboard behind him and a map of the world pinned to the wall.

"Alright, who remembers what we talked about last week?" Logan asked, his deep voice quiet but commanding enough to capture the attention of the room.

A few hands shot up— Bobby’s was the first, as always.

Logan nodded to him. "Go ahead, Bobby."

"We talked about Ancient Egypt! You said they had these huge tombs for their kings and queens, and they put all their treasures inside."

"That’s right," Logan said, crossing his arms and leaning against his desk. "The pyramids. But they didn’t just put treasures inside. What else?"

Kitty, who was usually too shy to speak up, raised her hand cautiously. Logan gave her an encouraging nod.

"Um, they put their pets inside too?" she said softly.

"Exactly. Sometimes pets, sometimes even servants." Logan smiled at her, watching her shoulders relax slightly. "Why do you think they did that?"

Bobby’s hand shot up again, but Logan pointed to a girl in the back who rarely spoke— Laura. The girl was staring at the map, lost in thought, but when Logan called her name, she blinked and looked around.

"Uh… because they thought they’d need them in the afterlife?" Laura said hesitantly.

"Right again," Logan replied. "They believed the afterlife was just another version of this life, so they wanted to bring everything with them that they’d need. It’s like packing for a trip, but instead of clothes, you’re bringing your pets and gold." He gave a small smile, which earned a few giggles from the class.

Logan continued the lesson, writing down some words on the board and telling stories of ancient rulers and their grand tombs. He kept the pace slow, knowing some of the kids needed extra time to process, and he made sure to check in with everyone throughout the lesson, gauging their engagement.

As the lesson wrapped up, the bell rang for the morning break, and the kids shuffled out of the classroom, excited to stretch their legs. Logan watched them go, making a mental note of who seemed engaged and who might need extra help later.

He was about to head out for a quick break himself when he noticed someone lingering by the door— Laura, the girl from earlier. She stood there, clutching the straps of her backpack, staring at the floor.

She had joined the center about a year ago, a girl with sharp eyes and a sharper tongue, quick to push people away before they could get too close. Her file said she’d been in and out of foster homes, and she had a history of acting out, of disappearing for days at a time. But Logan saw through it. She wasn’t just acting out for the sake of rebellion. It was survival for her. Trust didn’t come easy.

Each of these kids had been through so much stuff, things they didn’t deserve, things they weren’t even supposed to know at their age, and yet here they were, because the regular system wouldn’t take the risk of taking them in. That’s why this center existed, to help those kids and teenagers society had already rejected. 

They were only children. It broke his heart every single day.

Laura was always on edge, always watching. Logan noticed the way she sized people up, the way her eyes darted around the room like she was waiting for something bad to happen.

When she first started at the center, they had clashed. Logan’s patience and calm demeanor only seemed to irritate her more. She didn’t talk unless she had to, and even then, it was usually a one-word answer.

Today, Laura had been quiet. Too quiet.

Logan had learned to read her tells, and something was off.

As the bell rang for the break, she didn’t move. The other kids bolted out of the classroom like they always did, but Laura stayed behind, her eyes still fixed on the window, her jaw clenched.

Logan leaned against his desk, waiting until the room was empty before speaking. "You’re gonna miss your break if you sit there all day."

She didn’t respond. Typical Laura.

Logan watched her for a moment before crossing the room and sitting down in the chair next to her, his body turned toward her but giving her space.

"You alright, kid?" he asked, his voice low and calm, like he was talking to a wild animal he didn’t want to spook.

Laura’s gaze didn’t shift, but her grip on the edge of her chair tightened.

"I know you," she muttered after a long silence, her voice rough. "You’re just waiting for me to screw up again."

Logan sighed softly, shaking his head. "Not here to wait for you to screw up. I’m here to help you."

Laura scoffed. "Yeah, right."

Logan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You think I’m doing this for fun? Waking up at 5:30 every morning to come here because I got nothing better to do?"

She finally turned her head to look at him, her eyes narrowing like she was trying to figure out his angle.

"You don’t get it," she said, her voice harsh. "You don’t know what it’s like."

Logan met her gaze, unflinching. "Maybe I don’t know your exact story, but I’ve seen enough, and I know enough to get the picture. And I know you’re not alone, even if it feels like it."

Her eyes flickered for a second, something passing over her face before the hardened mask came back. She looked away, her jaw tightening again, and for a moment, Logan thought the conversation was over. But then she spoke again, quieter this time.

"I don’t wanna be here anymore," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Logan frowned. "What do you mean?"

Laura’s shoulders tensed, and she gripped the chair so hard her knuckles went white. "This place. This... stupid center. I don’t belong here. I can’t—" She cut herself off, shaking her head in frustration, as if the words were too much to get out.

Logan let out a slow breath. He’d seen this before— the tipping point where a kid was ready to run, because staying still felt too risky.

"You don’t have to do this alone," Logan said gently. "If it feels like too much, we can work on that. Together. But you gotta tell me what's really going on, Laura. Or Professor Xavier.  Anybody, really.»

For the first time, Laura’s mask cracked. Her eyes filled with frustration, but behind it, Logan could see the fear. The vulnerability she never let anyone see.

"I don’t belong anywhere," she muttered, her voice shaking. "No one gives a damn. Everyone leaves."

Logan stayed silent for a beat, letting her words sink into the space between them.

"That’s not true," Logan said softly. "You’re here. You’re fighting. You show up every day, even when it’s hard. That says a lot about you, more than you think."

Laura’s eyes flickered toward him, suspicious, but something about his tone made her stay.

"You know what I think?" Logan continued. "I think you’re stronger than you think. And if you want to talk, if you want to work through this... We’re all here. You don’t have to run."

Laura didn’t respond right away, but her shoulders slumped just a bit. The tension that had been coiling inside her all day seemed to ease, if only slightly.

"I don’t know if I can," she muttered.

Logan nodded, standing up slowly and giving her space. "You don’t have to decide today. Just know that the door’s open whenever you’re ready."

He started walking toward the door, expecting her to stay where she was, but then he heard her voice again, small and uncertain.

"Logan?" she asked, and for the first time, she used his name instead of calling him "Mr. Howlett."

"My name is Logan but for some legal reason you have to call me Mr.Howlett," he would say on the first day of school every year.

He turned around, his brows raised.

"Thanks," she said quietly, her gaze dropping back to her hands.

Logan nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Anytime, kid."

As he left the room, he felt a familiar heaviness settle in his chest, one that always came after a conversation like that. The weight of seeing a kid like Laura— someone who was so close to falling through the cracks, struggling to keep her head above water.

But for now, at least, she was still fighting. And Logan would be there to help her keep going, one step at a time.

As Logan left the classroom, the conversation with Laura replayed in his mind, lingering like a heavy weight on his chest. It was the kind of talk that always stuck with him, reminders of the pain these kids carried, the damage they fought to keep hidden.

He walked down the empty hallway, each step feeling slower, heavier. His usual routine of checking on classrooms and prepping for the next lesson seemed far away. All he could think about was Laura’s words, her quiet admission that she didn’t think she belonged anywhere, and how familiar that feeling was.

Logan knew that weight all too well.

He pushed open the door to the staff lounge, needing a moment to collect himself. The clock on the wall told him there were still ten minutes before the next class. It wasn’t enough time to shake this feeling, but he’d take what he could get.

Sinking into one of the chairs, Logan rubbed his hands over his face, trying to push the conversation out of his mind. But it wouldn’t leave him. It never did. It wasn’t just Laura. Every kid at the center carried a similar burden. They all had their demons, their scars. And each one of those conversations weighed him down, little by little.

It was part of the job, but that didn’t make it any easier.

The faint sound of a bell rang out in the hallway, signaling the start of the next class. Logan stood up slowly, taking a deep breath before heading out to meet his students. He had to pull it together. For them.

But as he walked back into the classroom, the weight of the conversation with Laura still clung to him like a dark cloud.

The day dragged on, and no matter how hard Logan tried to focus, his mind kept drifting back to the look on Laura’s face— the fear and vulnerability hidden beneath her tough exterior. He kept thinking about how much these kids reminded him of his own past, his own battles.

By the time the final bell rang, Logan was exhausted. Not from the physical strain, but from the emotional toll the day had taken on him. 

Just as he was packing up to leave, he spotted Wade through the classroom window. He was standing there with a goofy grin on his face, holding up a small box of donuts and a coffee.

But something felt... off. Wade’s smile didn’t reach his eyes like it usually did. He looked tense, distracted. Logan frowned but said nothing at first.

Wade sauntered into the classroom, his usual bravado on full display. “Hey, I come bearing gifts. You looked like you could use a sugar rush.”

Logan took the coffee, eyeing Wade carefully. “Thanks, man. You okay?”

Wade waved off the question with a laugh that sounded a little too loud. “Me? Of course! I’m always okay. What’re you talking about?”

Logan didn’t press further, but he wasn’t convinced. Wade’s humor had always been a shield, something to hide behind when things got too real. He knew that well enough by now.

"Alright," Logan said quietly, breaking off a piece of the donut and offering it to Wade. "If you say so."

Wade took the donut with a shrug, as if nothing was wrong, but Logan could see the tension in his shoulders. They sat there in silence for a while, chewing slowly. Wade broke the silence first, launching into one of his stories—something about a weird couple at last night’s gig and how he had to improvise a joke to get out of an awkward heckling situation.

Logan just nodded along, smirking occasionally at Wade’s antics. He wasn’t much of a talker, especially compared to Wade, but they had their dynamic down by now. Wade talked, Logan listened. That was how it worked. It wasn’t until Wade’s voice grew a little more strained that Logan felt the crack in his friend’s usual confidence.

As they walked out of the center, Wade was still rattling off his story, his words slightly more rushed than usual.

“I swear, man, if this one guy hadn’t backed off, I would’ve—"

“You sure you’re okay?” Logan asked again, cutting him off, his voice quieter this time, more concerned.

Wade immediately put his mask back on, laughing a little too loudly again. “Of course! Stop worrying about me, peanut. You’ve got your own crap to deal with. Speaking of which, how’s it going with Y/N, huh? Been hanging out together without me, yet?”

Logan rolled his eyes, though Wade’s obvious attempt to change the subject didn’t go unnoticed. “She’s our roommate, Wade.”

“Sure, sure,” Wade said with a wink. “Got it.”

Logan let it go. Pushing Wade wouldn’t get him anywhere. They’d been through this before. He’d talk when he was ready, and when that time came, Logan would be there.

Back at the apartment, the scent of something delicious greeted them as soon as they walked in the door. Y/N was in the kitchen, apron on, stirring a pot of what looked like some kind of stew.

“Hey, perfect timing,” she called over her shoulder. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

Logan grunted a small thank you, setting his bag down by the door, but Wade was, as always, much more dramatic.

“Y/N, you absolute angel,” Wade gushed, dramatically placing a hand over his heart. “I don’t deserve this! But I’ll take it.”

Y/N chuckled, glancing up at them both. “Long day?”

“You could say that,” Wade replied, but his usual humor seemed thinner, more like a front than ever before. He shot Logan a quick look, as if daring him to say anything. Logan just gave a subtle shake of his head and headed into the living room.

The shadows of the day lingered, tightening around him. He settled onto the couch, his mind racing back to Laura’s quiet admission. It was hard to shake the feeling that he was somehow failing her, as if his own past could offer her a lifeline he wasn’t made to provide.

Wade followed him in, his usual bravado on display but lacking its usual spark. “Hey, did you hear me? I was talking about the heckler,” Wade said, attempting to recapture the lightness that had slipped away from him.

“Yeah, I heard you,” Logan replied, trying to match Wade's tone. He could feel the edges of his own thoughts creeping in, threatening to overshadow their banter. “Sounds like you handled it well.”

“Of course! I’m the best,” Wade said with a grin, though it faltered slightly as he caught Logan’s gaze. “Seriously though, what’s up? You’ve been quiet. Did your kids hit you with one of those heavy questions again?”

Logan opened his mouth to respond, but the words stuck in his throat. He didn’t want to drag Wade into his emotional turmoil, especially when his friend was clearly wrestling with something of his own. Instead, he forced a small smile. “Just a long day.”

Wade nodded, his gaze scrutinizing. “You know, you could talk about it, right? We’re here for you.”

Logan shrugged, the weight of Wade’s words hitting harder than expected. He appreciated Wade’s willingness to listen, but he also felt that familiar instinct to shield his friend from the darkness that came with his memories. “I’m good, really.”

Just then, Y/N emerged from the kitchen, carrying a pot. “Dinner’s ready!” she announced, her smile brightening the room. It smelled delicious. He loved that she was settling so well into their dynamic.

“Thanks, Y/N. You’re the best,” Logan said, feeling a warmth spread through him at her kindness.

Wade leaned back on the couch, crossing his arms with a playful smirk. “You’re amazing,” he gushed, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. “You might be my favorite roommate I’ve ever had.”

Y/N chuckled, glancing between them. “Just trying to make something nice. Hope it’s okay!”

“Looks great,” Logan assured her, though he could see the uncertainty flickering in her eyes. She was still getting used to their routine, just as he was getting used to having her around.

As they gathered around the table, Logan focused on the meal, the rich aromas helping to distract him from his thoughts. Wade filled the silence with jokes and stories. Logan nodded along, trying to engage, but he could feel the tension in Wade’s shoulders, just as he sensed it in his own.

After dinner, as Y/N began to clear the table, Logan stood up to help her. “Let me take those,” he offered, reaching for the plates.

“Thanks,” she replied, her eyes meeting his briefly. He appreciated her easy smile, the way she brought a sense of warmth to their home, but he was still aware of how new everything felt.

Wade lingered at the table, looking at both of them with an unreadable expression. “You two sure seem cozy over there,” he teased, but there was a hint of something more serious in his tone.

Logan glared at him from the kitchen as the man just winked.

Bastard.

Once the table was cleared, they settled onto the couch. Logan leaned back, taking a moment to breathe. He felt the weight of the day settle in once more, but he was grateful for the distraction of Y/N and Wade. No matter how heavy the conversations, he knew he wasn’t alone in this.

“Alright, what’s next? Movie night?” Wade suggested, a little too brightly.

“Sounds good to me,” Y/N replied.

Logan nodded, grateful for the opportunity to escape, even if just for a little while. They flicked through the channels, laughter and light banter filling the room, but a part of Logan couldn’t shake the feeling that the shadows were still lurking just beyond the surface. Still, for now, he had this moment— this family —and it was enough.

XXX

[max-hubris]

@dreamsaremywords posted a dope prompt for a Clexa Mandalorian AU a while ago, and I own enough Star Wars RPG books for it to be embarrassing, so of course I had to write something. Please enjoy this meet-ugly between a moody bounty hunter and a reckless idiot. Title from a Perturbator-song that I was listening to on repeat when writing this.

She Moves Like a Knife

Stupid, stupid, stupid, Clarke thinks as she blinks furiously to clear the blood from her vision. Her helmet took the brunt of it, but there’s definitely a cut on her forehead, sending rivulets of crimson streaming down and directly into her left eye.

She hadn’t seen the shock baton coming before it literally hit her over the head, and though her armor ensured the electricity coursing through it wouldn’t send her into a spasming pile on the ground, the impact still fucking hurt.

“Fucking Cartel dicks,” Clarke mutters, readjusting the grip on her blaster. She’s a long way from Nal Hutta and Nar Shaddaa both, but the Hutt Cartel’s slimy tendrils are longer. And though she doesn’t speak much Dosh, in-between the harsh hissing syllables from the Trandoshans, she hears the name ‘Cholta’ repeated a few times.

She’s not going to let these amateurs take her anywhere, and especially not to some Hutt Cartel Lord who decided to put a bounty on her for no other reason than, in Clarke’s opinion, to be a real fucking asshole. Can’t even let her subtly loiter at a cantina in peace.

Another volley of blaster fire chips away at the makeshift cover, and she knows the durasteel crate she threw herself behind after kicking her initial assailant in the face isn’t gonna hold much longer. She chances a quick peek out of cover, managing to get eyes on all three of them. They’re all holed up behind the half-oval that makes up the cantina’s bar, a far more fortified position than what Clarke is working with. But… These older cantinas have their quirks, and her helmet’s HUD is still doing its job despite the impact, indicating the small fuel tank hooked up to the drink dispensing system. Clarke grins, happy to have her hunch confirmed.

Thankfully, everyone else had fled once the shooting started, so there’s no collateral other than structural to worry about.

Probably.

It’s gonna take a couple of shots to break through the plating, and Clarke is once again immensely grateful she managed to ditch the E-11 and its shitty accuracy as soon as she hit Elrood. As a manufacturing planet, it had a thriving black market filled with various things that went ‘missing’ from its gargantuan factories, and it hadn’t been hard to talk her way in, though she had obviously opted to forego her armor for that particular excursion. The Rodian manufactured heavy carbine she’d traded for had cost her both the E-11 and two thermal detonators, plus a couple of credits on top, but it was more than worth it for the upgraded precision, plus the extremely satisfying thump-noise it made when fired. Clarke has never been much for subtlety anyway.

To drive that point home, Clarke takes a deep breath, holds it, and pops out from behind her cover. Ignoring the shot that whizzes a little bit too close to her head, she follows the tracking on her HUD and finds the most vulnerable part of the tank easily. She exhales and pulls the trigger once, twice, keeping her wrists tense and elbows locked to manage the stronger recoil. Both shots are good, hitting in almost exactly the same place, and the three mercenaries have no time to react as the tank ignites and a fireball engulfs them.

The ensuing blast is probably the final nail in the coffin for the already beat-down cantina, and Clarke dives for a nearby window as the force of the explosion starts making the walls around her creak ominously. There’s screams from her would-be captors as they’re caught in the flames, but Clarke spares them no sympathy as she tucks and rolls, kicking up sand as she leaps to her feet and starts sprinting.

The air is scorching hot at this time of day, with Elrood’s arid climate and two suns quickly making Clarke’s armor feel like a sweltering cage, its bright white color not doing much to alleviate it. The commotion and ensuing explosion has drawn a crowd, even here in the slummier part of the planet. Clarke grits her teeth and pulls the long, raggedy cloak tighter around her, despite the heat.

It’s really no place for a lone figure clad in Stormtrooper armor to be seen.

She knows she needs to find her way off-planet soon, because even though Elrood isn’t under Imperial control, she’s seen a few of their ships coming and going from the modest spaceport lately, and though it’s unlikely that they’re here specifically for her, it’s still getting a little too concerning to ignore.

She makes it back to the little abandoned hovel she’d found on the outskirts of the slums, and as soon as she slams the door behind her, she wrenches the helmet from her head, wincing a little bit as the coagulated blood makes it stick to her skin for a moment.

“Eugh,” she grimaces as she sees the mess inside the helmet. She’s gonna need to clean that out somehow. Not to mention she has to take care of the cut on her forehead. She heaves a sigh and drags her feet through the little two-room building, throwing the helmet and her carbine onto the bed as she passes it.

Despite its state of disrepair, the house is very much livable. It stands in the middle of a little cluster of three other houses of similar shape and size, and Clarke’s assumption is that it housed factory workers, once upon a time, based on the logo still emblazoned on the doors. When she’d tried to look up the name of the company, however, she’d found nothing. Most likely, the company had been bankrupted, and its houses left behind. The other three houses were stripped bare, and it’s anyone’s guess why one of them still held its furniture, but Clarke isn’t complaining. The bed, though obviously cheap, is miles better than anything she’s ever slept on. Certainly much better than the shitty beds back at the Imperial barracks. There’s even a little table, and a chair, and a washroom with a sink, hooked up to a water tank outside. It had been dry when Clarke first got there, but figuring out how it worked hadn’t been hard, and she’d bartered two barrels of water from the nearby cantina to fill it up.

Unfortunately, that cantina is the same one she blew up today.

“Nothing good lasts forever…” Clarke mutters to herself in the cloudy mirror. She turns the sink on and leans down, cupping her hands under the faucet to gather water before splashing it against her face to get rid of the blood. She does this twice and tries to move quickly; she can’t afford to waste water now that she doesn’t know when she’ll get more, and—

Something cold presses against the back of her neck. Clarke’s hands immediately shoot out to the sides and stay there.

“Up. Slowly,” a voice says, distorted as if filtering through the voice-box on a helmet much like her own. Clarke curses inwardly, realizing this is it, they’ve found her. “Keep your arms just like that.”

As the voice commands, Clarke slowly comes back up, straightening at the waist first, then her neck. She mournfully glances down at the water that’s disappearing into the sink from the still open faucet, then looks up into the mirror.

And realizes that the person who has the muzzle of a blaster pressed against her neck isn’t who she thinks at all; because it’s not the Imperials come to haul her ass back to the nearest base to beat the shit out of her and put her right back into a squadron.

It’s worse.

“Mandalorian,” she hisses, lips pulling back into a snarl as she sees the all-too recognizable helmet shape, and the silver gleam of beskar plating.

The helmeted head tilts, and Clarke swears she can read amusement despite the lack of facial features. “Stormtrooper,” the voice retorts calmly.

“I’m not a fucking Stormtrooper,” Clarke bites out.

“That’s funny.” The hand not holding the blaster raises and a padded knuckle raps against her shoulder guard once, mockingly. “Because I think you might be.”

Clarke tips her chin up and stares down her foe, hoping her glare is hitting wherever the eyes might be. “I found this. Took it off some idiot I killed.”

“Being an idiot must be contagious, then, because only an idiot would voluntarily run around in that if they are, indeed, not a fucking Stormtrooper.”

Clarke opens her mouth, but whatever she’s about to say is drowned out by a rapid burst of blaster fire, and both of them immediately whirl away from each other, pressing flat against the wall by the door, each on either side of the opening.

“Oh come on!” Clarke shouts as she spots the very thing she was expecting when she was first accosted in her bathroom; that all to familiar white armor, as well as a gray uniform.

“Of course you have backup,” the Mandalorian grumbles, stowing the sidearm blaster and trading it for a much more formidable rifle hanging from their back, something surprisingly sleek though altogether vicious looking. 

“Surround the house! We’ve found the deserter!”

Clarke can’t help but feel a surge of vindication as the Mandalorian’s helmet snaps to look at her, and she grins, despite herself. “Fucking told you.”

“Great. Just an idiot.”

Deciding that doesn’t really qualify for a response, Clarke sets her eyes on the carbine still leaning against her bed. “Cover me,” she says, and absolutely does not wait for any kind of confirmation before she dives through the doorway, towards the bed and her carbine. 

Perhaps unsurprisingly, no covering fire is provided, though Clarke manages to snatch the carbine from the bed and drop into a low crouch behind the bed frame in spite of the uselessness of her new not-quite companion. 

Undeterred, Clarke blindly fires a few shots over her shoulder, ignoring the painful jolt of the carbine’s kickback from firing one-handed as she glares back at the faceless figure. "Some help you are! I thought Mandalorians were good at fighting!" Clarke complains, and squeezes the trigger a few more times for good measure. A yelp of pain tells her she might have gotten in a lucky hit, and there's more shouting from outside as the sound of the small unit regrouping can be heard. It buys her enough time to scramble back to her original position, next to the Mandalorian that seems perfectly content to let Clarke do all the hard work around here.

Fuck, and the fucking sink is still running.

Having grown up around faceless comrades, heads encased in white plastoid for the majority of their time spent together, Clarke is plenty used to relying on body language to discern emotion. Which is why it's so frustrating that she can't quite seem to get a read on this person, no, this woman, Clarke is pretty sure. Normally, she's not so bothered by not being able to see someone's eyes, hell, she prefers it most of the time. But now, she is irked by the fact that she has no idea where this annoyingly cocky bounty hunter is looking.

"And why would I help you, exactly?" The Mandalorian drawls. "You're clearly more trouble than you're worth."

Clarke grits her teeth at the unexpected ice-cold rush that courses through her chest and down into her stomach at the words. It's certainly not the first time she's heard almost this exact phrase, and while there's absolutely no reason it should hit her so hard, coming from a perfect stranger that had a blaster to her head a few minutes ago and knows absolutely nothing about her, it triggers painful memories, starkly reminding her of just why she's even on the run in the first place. All the things she's done that still weren't enough.

She fights down the unease and fixes the Mandalorian with an unimpressed look. "That officer out there has already reported back that a Mandalorian has been seen with me. Even if you leave me to get captured, you'll be a loose end, and the Empire does not leave loose ends. They'll start flagging ships in the spaceport looking for yours, and haul you in without a second thought. You're not getting off this planet now."

There is a subtle flex in the gloved hands where they wrap around the blaster rifle. The tiniest crack in the wall. Clarke is almost certain that they are now staring each other down, heedless of the smattering of blaster fire and shouting from outside.

"This isn't making me less tempted to shoot you," the Mandalorian says finally, and Clarke tips her chin up defiantly, feeling victory within her grasp.

"That'd make you the idiot then, because you need me. If you want to get past their sensors, you need someone who knows how to fool them. I do."

There's a beat of silence. Then two. Then, without any warning, the Mandalorian surges out of cover and has kicked open the front door and is in the middle of the fray faster than Clarke can blink. Clarke watches, jaw slack, as she moves forward, completely ignoring the hail of blaster fire that goes completely wide. With a powerful roll of one shoulder, the carbine in her hands is hefted and then three precise shots ring out, ventilating three Stormtrooper helmets in short order.

Without a second's hesitation, the Mandalorian strides towards the last man standing; the officer who is now fumbling for the small blaster sidearm he has forgone from drawing in favor of yelling orders instead. He stumbles backwards just as the Mandalorian raises her arm, and two wires shoot out from the grappling device strapped to her wrist.

With a sharp yank of her arm and a show of strength that Clarke was wholly unprepared for, the officer is pulled through the air and collides with an awaiting fist. The crack of a beskar reinforced gauntlet against his jaw echoes off the walls, and he slumps like a bag of space debris.

A high-pitched whistling noise, the wires retract back into the wrist grapple, and the helmeted head turns to look directly at Clarke as the carbine is smoothly exchanged for the sidearm again, and Clarke feels the eyes on her as two shots are fired directly into the unconscious officer's chest.

There is absolute silence for several moments as they stare at each other. Clarke has no idea what the face underneath that helmet is doing, and she honestly isn’t sure what expression her own face is wearing at the moment. There’s a non-zero chance it’s some form of wide-eyed awe.

Still. They can’t stand here staring at each other.

“Where’s your ship?” Clarke asks, with more courage than she’s feeling.

Heaving a full-body sigh, the Mandalorian steps over the dead officer. “C’mon. But if you bleed all over my seats we’re gonna have a problem.”

[defenestrationn]

Sebek Angst

trigger Warning *technically major character death?* Yuu has already passed and this is following sebek's Journey of mourning his love

Indented areas are flashbacks

The sounds of soft clicking fill Sebek's study while he worked. Writing had become the crocodile's escape once he was done with his shifts guarding his lord, Malleus. For a while, the loss of his beloved, Yuu, had rendered him a husk. A husk who refused anything out of his routine. 

Wake up. Eat. Guard. Eat again. Journal. Sleep. Repeat. He did that for his whole life. But it felt so much more hollow now. Books full of his grief filled his shelves. The rows above are full of stories you two shared. So many are full of his love and admiration. 

One such book laid open on his desk. Between the furious bursts of typing, he would reread parts of the journal. Relive that moment so he could write it once again. To now allow the world to know his love for you. A part of him wished the stories would go back to you. So you can hear his love once again. 

  laughter filled the broken-down dorm as the first year's all spoke over their notes and food. times where the group just got to be school kids. Not fighting overblots or some crazed person or a ghost bride. They were just allowed to be themselves. 

  Sebek swore only Yuu could foster this environment.  It had been almost a year of their constant blood sweat and tears to make this place habitable. Hell, Even other students enjoyed spending their time here, with or without the prefect.

  Slowly, as the night went on, the students began to go and do their own things. Some go to bed, and others just retire to their rooms to wind down. However,  Sebek stood in the kitchen with the prefect. It had become a routine for the pair to clean up together. light chatter filled the air as the boy was handed wet dishware to dry off. 

  “Human.  I've noticed you've read most of the books in your possession.  We shall go together to select more. Do you need any other stationery?” 

  “I would love to go on a date with you,  Sebek.”

He froze at the way you laughed. Was his intention that obvious?

A soft smile sat on his lips as he relived the beginning of your relationship.  Human.. oh how that word cuts him deep now. humans had such short life spans, even to the half fae. You had passed well into your 80s. And from what Lilia had explained, that was a long healthy life for a human. 

He had kept about 70 years worth of writings about you. Every date you had, he would write in detail, every milestone would have a chapter. All of the love letters you had both sent. He kept all of it. Every memory he had of you. 

Devoted. That's all the boy had ever been to you or Malleus. If he could live, eat and breathe you. He would.

But now, in the nights,  he lives his life glued to his computer.  Giving you another life. Giving you both a new live story. One in the world you would tell him about. One where magic didn't exist. One where he was human too.

 A world where you could live and die together.  Neither suffering for centuries begging for the other. 

  The day you both graduated was one sebek could never forget. You looked absolutely glowing, proud to have kept up in a world that felt like it was against you. And yet, he was the one who screamed your praise the whole way. 

Once the ceremony was over,  Sebek couldn't stop himself from running to you. It was like you were magnetic.  

“Yuu! We did it!” 

He scooped up his partner in his arms as he spun them around. Words couldn't describe the pride and joy he felt over this. After all. He had an important question he had been sitting on since they got together.  

“Yuu! Now that we have graduated. Will you come live with me in Briar Valley?”

He looked back to his bed. Your favorite blanket sat folded beside his pillow. Malleus had enchanted it many years ago to never endure wear and tear. A few years later, sebek had enchanted it to forever smell like you when he had to leave for a trip. 

For a while he had cursed himself for that. The smell would make him cry himself to sleep. Begging the stars to let you return to his arms. But now? He finds great comfort in the blanket. After all, It was the first present when you had agreed to live with him.

His eyes drifted down to the black metal around his finger. It was like a traditional fae wedding ring. One of his homeland. And your matching ring sat on a chain around his neck. As close to his heart as it can get. After a few seconds of looking at his ring, he took the book from his desk to bring back to his shelf. he only took another in it's place. The one labeled “Wedding”.

The book was full, page to page,  about the events of your wedding and honeymoon. About your silly misadventures and how lucky he was to be the one to be by your side through it all.

 The wedding wasn't huge, but Sebek had paid special attention to inviting those close to you. The found family you had made in your time in this world. His family also joined. His siblings teasing the boy relentlessly for his nerves. 

The ceremony was held in a large meadow full of flowers and fireflies.  Thorns grew over arched metal that had been set long before their time. Their guests lined the isle while he stood by the officiant, clad in a dark black suit with accents of gold. His hair wasn't gelled back for once.  Instead,  he allowed the fluffy green hair to rest naturally,  the way his dear partner loved so much.

Sebek couldn't help but fiddle with the hem of his leather gloves. Once he heard the music began to fill the wind, he took them off. It was time to see his beautiful spouse. 

“You looked radiant as always, my heart.” His voice was soft as his fingers brushed over the picture of them having their first dance together.  Tears burned his eyes as he held the book close. What he would give to truly be back in those moments. One day, he will be back with his love.  Until then. He will continue to give them a new life through these books.

A/n!

This has been eating at me for a week. Hopefully yall enjoy!!

[lit-in-thy-heart]

two hundred pages of slow action was worth it for this chapter

[hopecomesbacktolife]

thinking of rereading the entirety of HoME again. for my health

[imblocking-you]

Percy Jackson show coming out literally is like digging down and unearthing my roots, it was so formative for me, been there through a lot of transitions and phases, through meeting the most important people in my life now, getting to know myself and the world around me, life was so great, but i've grown up and come to know that life continues to be great.

The world doesn't end at 17.

[dayurno]

[aquitainequeen]

Applicants for the Editorial Assistant position: I love reading and literature! I spend a lot of time on BookTok! I'm passionate about exciting narratives!

Me, alternating between assessing candidates and scrutinizing a manuscript to make sure there are no nasty permission surprises: Oh, you are applying to the wrong department, my friend.

[frogs-in3-hills]

i think i have not had many substantial observations about worm in my liveblogs despite being 3/4 of the way through because my main goal thus far has not been to experience worm, or even necessarily enjoy worm, but to finish worm. so i have decided there is only one way to solve this problem. once i finish worm i am going to start over and read worm all over again