#it’s for sure not the worst live adaptation
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💖🖤 for captain laserhawk
Okay okay so! These are always subject to change somewhat and. I have a dangerously high fever because SOMEONE. BROUGHT SOMETHING HOME. so I can barely think but. Yippie.
🖤 - which character isn’t as morally good as people think?
Well. I’ll just start by saying that 75% of these characters are pretty rough people with skewed morals so I’m sure it comes as no surprise to say Ramon. Yes, that final scene was cool as fuck, yes he was enjoyable even at his lowest. But that doesn’t change the shit he was peddling for at least 45 years for Eden. We saw the impact that his voice has had on the world around him. If it weren’t for him Sarah wouldn’t have turned out so messed up (and then get screwed over again because. She was also a victim of the system, who knows what Eden has done to her brain and what’s her and what’s not.) Ramon. Accidentally Created A Dictator. And god knows how many other impressionable children were impacted by him, whether they managed to break free or be another worst case scenario characters. Killing the board of directors doesn’t undo the cycle of near cultish patriotism that he’s facilitated over the years. Like Dolph, I’ll have to see him do more good post a change of heart to believe he’s actually a good Guy morally if that makes sense. ((We better see more of Dolph’s change of heart when we have more canon content but I digress this isn’t about him.
💖 Biggest Unpopular Opinion about the series?
I am genuinely not sure. I think most of my ‘hot takes’ are about things that aren’t even canon. Also these are a lot of mild takes. I think the main one is how I like how CLH stands on its own two feet given the downright blasphemous ways the original sources were treated at times. I’m pissed about. A few… select decisions myself I am not saying those decisions were good but at least they didn’t go on a ‘we’re really accurate’ tirade the way some adaptations do? It’s like an officially sanctioned crossover AU in my eyes (which has inspired a few things on my part.) I’m not sure really. I mean I’m pissed at Ubisoft, we all are. nfts are not the way to go and I fear they’re allergic to money, I like the things that most of yall like. Wait actually. I do have something else.
Okay so. The live action segment and everything surrounding it is genuinely the best part of the show. I discussed that scene for an Animation Essay. It is utilised so well. People who complain about it have not played any older games that hinge on realism/semi realism styles. Take the budget up with Ubisoft not that scene. Also in my research a lot of the people who hated the show skipped it??? So it’s either that disconnect or they really do not like Sarah at all and tbh I’m kind of annoyed about that. I’m certain the active fandom agrees that it’s absolutely unskipable. I’m not going to say anyone who skipped it and blames the art style hates women. Or women who just so happen to like women and just women but. Okay I am saying that but it’s mostly a joke. A little eyebrow raising if you will.
#clh#captain laserhawk#clh ramon#clh rayman#clh sarah fisher#oh god am I going to get cancelled or is this a very sane take/gen
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So, the YuYu Hakusho live adaptation
Well.
We got a real good anime adaptation, which is rare enough
And they did a good job with the costumes, aesthetics, and they did hit a lot of the fight scenes as close to the original as they could
They just… very obviously understood absolutely none of the actual messaging or what made those scenes impactful
Spoilers below for the original anime/manga and the live action
I understand they only had 5 episodes to get through the first season but I just finished episode 3 and I literally do not understand how they plan to get from here to the Dark Tournament
Genkai was introduced, trained Yusuke for 20 fucking days, trained Kuwabara as well and blatantly favoured him for 19 of those days including telling Botan to tell Koenma Yusuke’s a write off
(Do not fucking ask about Koenma he’s a cool teenager with a pacifier the entire time it is literally not even commented on)
Then oh Yusuke does his finger handstand for one entire night, pops off a spirit gun that Toguro notices
(Elder Toguro promptly shits himself in glee)
Genkai can magically tell they’ve noticed, nearly cries, and hands over the fucking spirit orb. Immediately. It just pops straight in, no big deal, no question, Yusuke wanders off for ramen and Toguro kills her
Not one Genkai fight scene. A lil moment of her fucking around and throwing walnuts at Yusuke, but not even breaking a sweat
Tarukane and Yukina were introduced right off the bat and Hiei’s stolen spirit treasure is a piddly little knife he used to make a teeny weeny cut and give himself a jagan eye so he can look for her, no evil machinations or transformation for this bitch
Yusuke and Hiei don’t even fight before Kurama calls them both bitches and they’ve already picked up Kuwabara to get on the boat for The Fucking Tournament Island which is apparently just Sakyo’s house
Oh yeah, because Sakyo told Tarukane episode ONE that he’s digging a hole to the demon world, sold him Yukina (so who should Hiei really be stabbing?), and has now invited Tarukane back to his place to be protected by Sakyo’s demons, the Toguros
The Black Black Club are fucking all there. In person. Just chilling. At Sakyo’s house on the tournament island and the Demon Triad are there but none of the tournament folks are but they’re on Sakyo’s boat? Minus Genkai? Who died about 30 minutes tops after her first appearance?
Oh, and we saw the demon triad and Toguro popping a giant beastie and Hiei running around with his knife and then immediately after the cut Yusuke just fucked off to Genkai’s to be instantly accepted as her pupil for a 20+ day training montage so who knows what the fuck Hiei and Tarukane were up to in the meantime, Tarukane fully left the mainland and apparently Hiei spent 3 weeks sitting on his thumb about it
I just. The saddest part is that I really, truly think the people making the adaptation thought they were being faithful to the original
The characters look so good, the costumes are incredible, the special effects are fucking fantastic
But every single moment of build up, of dramatic tension, of getting to know the characters and seeing them care about something is gone
Yusuke’s dramatic revelation that it’s time to get serious with his training isn’t Toguro levelling a parking block; it’s watching Kuwabara hit a rock with a wooden sword until his spirit sword happens
His whole motivation to get stronger is “well I can’t let Kuwabara beat me”, which even Genkai calls piss weak one day and then the next it’s fine, he’s ready to finish his training
(One thing I do like is the characters themselves occasionally dropping a “well what the fuck did that mean” about particularly egregious logic leaps, like Elder Toguro shapeshifting to impersonate Hiei and kidnap Keiko
Like
Do they not understand Hiei was a fan favourite just for being an evil little shithead in his first appearances who didn’t care about anybody except maybe Kurama?
Instead we have pre-reformed Hiei who only wants to save his sister uwu won’t even take a stab at properly fighting Yusuke before they’ve teamed up
Just let Hiei be a little shit
Just let him have a stupid grandiose plan that even je can later admit made no fucking sense
Let Yusuke shoot him in the ass and show some ingenuity under pressure)
Don’t get me wrong, I’m finishing out the season just to see where the fuck they’re going, but I thought I had a general idea for the first two episodes and now I just. I don’t know.
I think they’re gonna pansy out of giving me Jin
They’re not gonna do my goddamn flying demon uni-leprechaun
However if they do punch Sakyo and toss him into a pit at the end of this season I will not be mad, he’s gonna be Right There in punching range apparently because they’re not going to a tournament, they’re going to HIS FUCKING HOUSE
Oh and no Shizuru
No badass moments for Keiko (well I guess she did slap the face off Elder Toguro once that was great)
No Atsuko past the first episode
Botan is basically a semi-sadistic cheerleader
Genkai is dead
Because it’s not like anyone liked this show for actually having interesting and semi-independent female characters
Honestly I even had a couple moments of “maybe I’d like this better if they did a worse job”, because it’s so clearly made by people who really cared about the show, and worked to fit as much as they could into five episodes (fuck you Netflix)
But what they cared about was fight scenes
Not any of what actually made YYH interesting and compelling; no character growth, no relationships between rivals, between enemies to allies, between teacher and student
Not 30 seconds on the relationship between Toguro and Genkai, for all they lifted lines directly from the anime
He walks in and pops her, no big deal
Not even on screen
Puu does not exist
For a character who starts the show by fuckin dying, Yusuke really has not been pushed to his limits since
And to be fair, the things the show does well, it’s fucking nailing
Toguro’s muscle transformation? PERFECT. Understated, clear potential to become fucking ridiculous around 80%, classy as hell
Kurama’s rose whip? Incredible, 10/10, so fucking glad we’ve seen so much of it, super well done
Spirit gun and spirit sword? Fabulous, gorgeous, I am in love, only thing that would make it better would be shooting that asshole teacher in the head (not that Yusuke has been to school since the day he died except to sit on the roof)
It’s just… the edgelord version of the story. As truncated as possible, just event event event, without any patience or respect for character relationships or growth or that, y’know, you need to give your audience a reason to care
The good news is, at this point it’s pretty much no reason for them to do the fourth season just in general which would make Yoshihiro Tagashi very happy
Just in general, it’s… fine. It’s a little short action show with great special effects and some fantastic costuming and aesthetic
There’s something that sorta almost resembles a story
And as far as live adaptations go? We definitely for sure know it could be worse, especially with Netflix *stares in Death Note*
I just won’t be all that disappointed if they don’t get the second season they really really really needed
#yu yu hakusho#yyh#yu yu hakusho live action#yu yu hakusho anime#it’s for sure not the worst live adaptation#it just tastes like something that could and should have been so much better#so many cool special effects they spent the netflix budget in some really weird places#and they all look fantastic and cool i just#i can see where they coulda refocused to really highlight an actually important moment#cranky posting
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And if I said Voltron was getting a live action adaptation what would you guys do
#voltron legendary defender#voltron#vld#vld news#vld live action#voltron live action#voltron lance#lance mcclain#keith kogane#vld keith#keith voltron#voltron keith#voltron legendary disappointment#voltron legendary disaster#voltron legendary queer bait#klance#klance is canon king#they’re not even sure which series they’re gonna adapt#I have a small suggestion#it totally should be the 2016 one#not for any particular reason#other than I love reliving the worst moments of my life
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Out of all the discomforts and inconveniences of my life, people have always been the worst.
The electricity shut off for about an hour a while ago. We got no beforehand warning, so it wasn't planned nor scheduled, and we had no way of knowing how long it would last. So calmly I took my iced tea and grabbed the book I had been reading (graphic novel adaptation of Frankenstein) and went to the balcony to read, as we need to keep the curtains shut during the day to keep the heat out inside the apartment.
And my boyfriend calmly took out the solar panel's generator, hooked his own computer into it, and by using his phone's internet continued to finish the process he had been doing before the electricity rudely shut off. Perfectly calmly, not sure when our lights would go back on or whether the water pipes would have anything in them, not knowing whether we could flush the toilet twice today.
The blackout lasted an hour, though we would have been perfectly fine bracing it to last the rest of the day, if bad luck had it. And all things considered, it was a perfectly pleasant hour. Nobody was fretting or distressed, looking to take their frustrations out on anybody else, or trying to supervise that everyone involved would be appropriately distressed about the situation, the sufficient level of distress dictated randomly on the spot. Nobody was offended by my desicion to make the best of it, or angered by my distress about not knowing what the appropriate level of distress was, and "acting like I'm the only one suffering here" about it.
There simply was no disaster, nothing like it. The electricity simply shut off for a moment, and an hour later came back on. For the most part, life is actually perfectly nice when you don't live with people who seek to improve their own mood by making sure that you're upset too.
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New life - worst!Logan x Reader (NSFW)
Summary: Logan tries to live his new life in solitarity with peace and quiet. However, it all changes when you move in next to him.
Pairing: worst!Logan x reader
Warnings: angst, fluff, smut, inexperienced (but not a virgin) reader, Wade Wilson. SMUT, hot shower sex, eating out for both So please do not interract if you're under 18.
AN: So I had this story sitting and waiting to be published. This is probably the most smutty thing I have ever written. But I hope you will enjoy it ;) No beta read all the mistakes are my own...
Words: 24 220 (oops)
Logan sat on the porch of the small cabin, his rough hands wrapped around a bottle of cheap beer, staring out at the thick woods that surrounded him. The world was quiet, too quiet for a man like him. It wasn’t just the silence of the woods, but the kind of silence that stretched into the very core of his existence, making him feel like a ghost—a relic in a world that had moved on without him.
He had seen it all. Hell, he’d lived it all. Fought battles that would break most men, lost more people than he cared to remember, and survived wars that had been meant to end him. Yet here he was, in this new reality, a world stitched together from the broken pieces of his past and fragments of a future that wasn’t supposed to be.
And then there was Wade.
Logan took a long drink, letting the beer burn its way down his throat. Wade Wilson—Deadpool—was a walking contradiction. The bastard was a thorn in Logan’s side, an immortal jester who seemed to mock the seriousness of life with every breath he took. Wade’s idea of fun was throwing himself headfirst into a fight just to see how many pieces he’d end up in. And somehow, by some twisted stroke of fate, Wade had followed Logan into this new world.
It wasn’t just Wade, either. Laura was here, too. His daughter, if he could call her that. X-23. She was tough, capable, and deadly. More like him than anyone else, and that’s what scared him the most.
Logan had always thought that isolation was his fate. He’d always believed he was doomed to walk the world alone, leaving destruction in his wake. But now…now he wasn’t so sure.
In this strange new place, with Wade and Laura nearby, Logan found himself struggling to make sense of it all. And the worst part? He couldn’t decide if he hated the fact that he wasn’t alone anymore—or if he secretly loved it.
---
The world they found themselves in wasn’t exactly like the one Logan had known before. There were no Sentinels hunting mutants down. There were no endless wars between mutants and humans. It was… quieter. Softer. And it made Logan feel restless, like a caged animal pacing inside a zoo enclosure too small for his needs.
This world was full of people living normal lives—people who didn’t know about the blood Logan had on his hands, the wars he had fought, or the pain that clawed at his insides every time he closed his eyes. They didn’t know who he was. And he wanted to keep it that way.
But there were still reminders of the past, flickers of the world he’d left behind. Wade, for one. The bastard had somehow adapted to this new reality like a fish to water, making sarcastic jokes about “timeline anomalies” and “multiverse etiquette” while Logan tried not to punch him in the face.
It wasn’t that Logan hated Wade. No, he knew Wade had been through his own version of hell. It was just that Wade had a way of poking at the deepest parts of Logan’s soul, the parts he didn’t want anyone messing with. Like Wade knew exactly how to find the cracks in Logan’s armor and jab at them with a grin on his face.
Yet despite that, Wade was here. And Laura. And something about that gnawed at Logan in ways he couldn’t explain.
Wade’s presence wasn’t just an annoyance. It was a reminder that Logan wasn’t alone. That even in this fractured world, there were still people around him. People who gave a damn. Wade might be a pain in the ass, but Logan couldn’t deny that the man had his back when it counted.
And Laura—she was tougher than nails, just like him. The kid had been through more than anyone her age should have to endure. In many ways, she was his mirror: fierce, stubborn, carrying the weight of violence in her bones. But where Logan was tired, worn down by the decades, Laura still had fire in her. She hadn’t lost that part of herself yet.
God, he hoped she wouldn’t.
---
Logan had spent his life running from his past. It was the one thing he was good at. He had been the lone wolf for so long, keeping people at arm’s length, pushing them away the moment they got too close. He’d lost count of how many times he had built walls around himself, thicker and higher each time. He’d perfected the art of being alone.
But this time, the past felt closer than ever.
In his quiet moments—those rare seconds when Wade wasn’t around, spouting off ridiculous commentary about “crossing universes” or “rebooting franchises”—Logan found his mind drifting back to the things he couldn’t forget. The people. The places. The blood.
The world around him might have changed, but his memories hadn’t.
He remembered the sound of Charles’ voice, the way the professor’s mind had felt inside his own, guiding him when everything else was chaos. He remembered Jean, her face twisted with power and pain, and how he had been the one to end it. To end her. He remembered the wars, the endless wars, and the way they had ripped him apart inside, piece by piece.
Logan’s hands clenched around the neck of the bottle, his knuckles turning white. It wasn’t fair. The memories weren’t fair. They were all ghosts now, haunting him in the quiet of this new world. He had outlived them all, and sometimes he wondered if that was the worst part—being the last one standing.
Laura was the only one who could understand, even if she didn’t say it out loud. She had the same memories, the same scars. They were alike in that way, bound together by the violence of their creation.
Yet she still looked at the world with a glimmer of hope.
Logan envied her for that.
---
What tore at him the most—what kept Logan up at night, staring at the ceiling, his chest heavy with the weight of it—was the gnawing feeling that maybe he didn’t want to be alone. Not anymore.
For years, Logan had convinced himself that solitude was his destiny. That he was too dangerous, too broken to be close to anyone. He had lost too much, and losing again wasn’t something he could handle. It was easier to keep the world at a distance. To fight alone. To bleed alone.
But now, sitting here in the middle of nowhere with Wade making bad jokes and Laura not too far away, Logan found himself facing a truth he didn’t know how to accept.
He cared about them.
He’d never say it out loud, of course. That wasn’t his style. But it was there, gnawing at the back of his mind every time Wade dragged him into some ridiculous situation or Laura reminded him, with a single sharp look, that she was capable of handling herself.
In some messed-up way, these people had become his pack. His family.
Logan didn’t do family. Not after all the ones he had lost. But now, against all odds, there was Wade with his incessant humor, and Laura with her silent strength. And, whether he liked it or not, Logan found himself caring.
Maybe too much.
That was the real problem, wasn’t it? He couldn’t afford to care. He had spent his whole life losing the people he loved, and he didn’t want to go through that again. But this world—this strange new reality—was forcing him to face a future he hadn’t expected. A future where he wasn’t alone.
And it scared the hell out of him.
---
Logan felt the beast stirring inside him every day. The anger, the rage—it was always there, lurking just beneath the surface, waiting for an excuse to tear its way out. In the old world, there had always been something to fight. Someone to kill. That’s what kept him going: the battles, the endless battles.
But here?
Here, in this quiet world, the beast had no outlet. There were no enemies to hunt, no wars to fight. And that scared him more than anything, because without the violence to drown in, Logan was left with the one thing he had spent his entire life avoiding: himself.
He didn’t know how to live without the fight. Didn’t know how to be the man people wanted him to be in this strange new life.
And yet, for the first time in years, Logan could feel something else stirring inside him. Something softer. It was a terrifying feeling—one that made him feel exposed and vulnerable in a way no battle ever had. It was the feeling of wanting something more.
Of wanting someone to come home to.
Logan shook his head, trying to shake the thought loose. He was too old for this. Too worn out, too broken. There was no place in his life for softness. No place for—
A voice cut through the silence. “Hey, old man, you brooding again? Don’t worry, I brought beer! And chimichangas!”
Wade.
Logan growled low in his throat, but deep down, a part of him—the part he refused to acknowledge—was relieved.
---
As the sun set over the trees, casting long shadows across the ground, Logan leaned back in his chair, listening to Wade’s footsteps approaching. In another life, in another world, this would’ve been the kind of thing that set him on edge.
***
Logan could hear you long before he saw you.
It was a sunny afternoon—too damn sunny for his taste—when the sound of boxes being shuffled, a car door slamming, and a string of cheerful humming broke the usual quiet of his secluded little corner of the world. Logan’s brows furrowed as he sat on his porch, a cigar clamped between his teeth. He could feel the change, the shift in his surroundings, like the arrival of an unwanted storm.
He wasn’t expecting anyone new to move in. He didn’t need neighbors. Hell, he barely tolerated the company of Wade, and that bastard was like a cockroach, impossible to get rid of. But the sounds continued, grating on his nerves.
Logan tried to ignore it. He took a deep drag from his cigar, letting the smoke curl around him like a protective shield. He wasn’t in the mood for people. Never was.
But then he heard it—the unmistakable sound of footsteps crunching on the gravel driveway leading up to his cabin.
“Hey there!” a bright voice called out, too damn chipper for the likes of him.
Logan squinted into the sunlight, his gaze landing on the source of the intrusion.
A woman— with a wide smile and way too much energy—was making her way toward him, waving as if they were old friends. She had a box tucked under one arm, and her other hand flailed in his direction like she hadn’t quite mastered the art of walking and greeting someone at the same time.
Logan’s first thought was to retreat, to grumble some excuse and disappear into his cabin, lock the door, and hope she’d get the hint.
But then she was there, standing at the edge of his porch, her eyes bright with curiosity and excitement. Logan could practically feel her energy radiating off her, and it made his skin itch.
“Hi! Nice to meet ya,” you said, holding out a hand as if you two were meeting at some friendly town gathering. “I just moved in next door! Well, not exactly next door, but you know, close enough. Over there.” You pointed vaguely in the direction of the small house a few yards down the gravel road, the one that had been vacant for months. “I thought I’d come by and introduce myself!”
Logan stared at you, his mouth clamped shut around the cigar, saying nothing. He didn’t want to shake your hand. Hell, he didn’t even want to look at you, but there you were—bright, bubbly, and apparently oblivious to the fact that he wasn’t the neighborly type.
Your hand hovered in the air for a moment longer before you dropped it, unfazed by his lack of response. You were smiling at him like you had all the time in the world, eyes sparkling with some kind of optimism that made Logan’s stomach twist.
“You don’t talk much, do you?” you said, cocking your head to the side, studying him like he was some kind of puzzle you were eager to figure out.
Logan grunted, the only sound he could manage. He wasn’t about to engage in small talk with some stranger, let alone one as annoyingly cheerful as this one.
You didn’t seem bothered by his silence. In fact, you didn’t seem bothered by anything. You just kept talking, as if his gruff demeanor was nothing more than a speed bump on the road of your conversation.
“I’m opening a coffee shop!” you announced, her face lighting up even more, which Logan hadn’t thought was possible. “Right down the street, actually. It’s called Beans of Heaven—cute, right? I thought it was clever. It’s gonna be small, but cozy. You should stop by sometime. I make the best coffee. Seriously, the *best*. You’re not one of those ‘don’t talk to me until I’ve had my coffee’ types, are you? ’Cause I can fix that. I’ve got all sorts of flavors, too. But if you’re more of a black coffee, no sugar, no fuss kind of guy, I can do that, too.”
You paused just long enough to take a breath, and Logan couldn’t help but feel a little bit of admiration for the fact that you hadn’t passed out from lack of oxygen. Damn, you could talk.
“I bet you’re a black coffee type,” you said, giving him a wink like you’d just solved some great mystery. “Strong, no nonsense. That’s you, right?”
Logan grunted again, this time out of sheer disbelief. Were you for real?
You smiled wider—how, he didn’t know—and clapped your hands together. “I knew it! Okay, well, I just wanted to say hi and let you know that I’m around. If you ever need anything, just holler! Or, you know, come by the shop. First cup’s on the house!”
Before Logan could tell you to leave, you waved one last time and turned on your heel, bouncing back toward the car like the world was made of sunshine and rainbows.
Logan stared after you, feeling a mix of irritation and confusion swirling in his gut. You were too much. Too loud. Too… happy. A part of him wanted to destroy that happiness, to crush it beneath the weight of his own darkness, just to see how long your smile would last.
But another part of him—the part that still hadn’t learned to let go of the things he’d lost—wanted to hold on to it. To be a part of it. Maybe even protect it.
He crushed those thoughts as soon as they appeared. That wasn’t him. Not anymore.
No, the loudest part of him wanted to stay far away from you and that relentless energy. He didn’t need that kind of brightness in his life. He’d learned long ago that everything bright eventually dimmed. And Logan was no good at keeping things alive.
---
It didn’t take long for you to open the shop.
Within a week, there was a new sign on the old building just down the road, a colorful thing that read Bean of Heaven in bold, cheerful letters. The place had been empty for as long as Logan could remember, just another relic of a town that was slowly dying. But you had breathed life into it, just like you had with everything else you touched.
Logan had no intention of visiting. He wasn’t about to walk into a place where he’d have to sit and listen to your nonstop chatter. But fate, or maybe just bad luck, had other plans.
He ran out of beer.
There were no bars nearby, and the nearest liquor store was a half-hour drive. He’d been sitting on his porch, staring at the empty bottle in his hand, when the smell hit him—rich, dark, the unmistakable aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafting down the street from your shop. His stomach growled, and despite himself, Logan found his feet moving toward the source.
The bell above the door jingled as he stepped inside, and there you were—standing behind the counter, pouring coffee with the same level of enthusiasm most people reserved for winning the lottery. Your head snapped up when you saw him, and your face lit up with that damn smile again.
“Neighbour! You made it!” you said, like you’d been expecting him all along. “I knew you’d come by eventually.”
Logan grunted, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket. He didn’t respond, just made his way to the counter, eyes scanning the shop. It was cozy, like you’d said—lots of wooden tables, warm lighting, and shelves lined with plants and knickknacks. It didn’t feel like a place that belonged in his world.
You handed him a cup, black coffee, no sugar, no cream—just how he liked it. He took a sip, the warmth flooding through him, and he couldn’t help but let out a small sound of approval.
It was the best damn coffee he’d ever had.
“You like it, huh?” You asked, eyes twinkling with pride. “Told you I make the best coffee. You’re gonna be hooked, I promise.”
Logan didn’t answer, just took another sip, letting the coffee do the talking for him.
You leaned on the counter, your head resting in your hands, watching him like he was the most interesting thing in the world. “So,” you said, breaking the silence, “you’re kind of a mystery, aren’t you?”
Logan’s jaw tightened. He didn’t like being a mystery to anyone. Especially not someone like you, who seemed intent on figuring him out.
“I bet you’ve got all sorts of stories,” you continued, undeterred by his silence. “I mean, you’ve got that whole ‘lone wolf’ vibe going on. You know, the brooding guy with the mysterious past? People eat that stuff up.”
Logan grunted, trying to ignore you, but you didn’t seem to get the hint. You just kept talking, words bouncing around the shop like they had a life of their own.
“You ever think about opening up? I mean, I’m sure you’ve been through a lot. Everyone’s got their demons, right? And I get it, you don’t want to talk about it. That’s fine. But, you know, sometimes it helps to have someone to talk to. Not that I’m saying you need to talk to me or anything, but—”
Logan shot you a look, one that usually shut people up pretty fast. But you? You just smiled, like he hadn’t even glared at you.
“You’re not much for conversation, huh?”
***
The first few weeks after Logan’s initial trip to Beans of Heaven passed in a haze of routine. Every morning, like clockwork, he’d walk down the road to the small coffee shop. The sun was always just barely creeping over the horizon, and the air was still crisp with the night’s lingering chill. The smell of freshly brewed coffee would hit him the moment he opened the door, mingling with the scent of cinnamon rolls and other pastries you had undoubtedly baked before dawn.
You, for your part, had made a habit of greeting him the same way every day, with a wide smile that seemed to stretch across your entire face. “Logan! Black coffee, no frills, coming right up!”
At first, he just grunted in response, as usual. But there was something about you—something relentless, something he couldn’t quite figure out. Most people would’ve taken the hint after a few days of silence from him, maybe decided to stop talking altogether. But not you. No, you kept at it, talking about everything and nothing, filling the air with words while Logan sat at his usual table in the back corner, sipping his coffee.
He didn’t respond. Not really. But there was a part of him that started to look forward to it, the way your voice would fill the shop, the way you laughed at your own jokes. It was ridiculous, how much energy you had. And even more ridiculous how much it didn’t annoy him as much as it should’ve.
---
It happened one day, without him even meaning to.
Logan had been sitting at his usual spot, staring out the window, watching the way the morning light filtered through the trees. You were behind the counter, humming some cheerful tune while you wiped down the espresso machine. You hadn’t started talking to him yet that morning—maybe you’d finally realized he wasn’t much for conversation.
But then, out of nowhere, you blurted out, “You ever play hockey, Logan?”
His eyes flicked up to you, and for a split second, he almost ignored the question, like he always did. But something inside him cracked, maybe because it was such a random thing to ask, or maybe because he hadn’t been asked about hockey in a long time.
“Yeah,” he muttered, his voice rough like gravel. “A long time ago.”
Your eyes widened, and for a moment, you looked like you weren't sure if you’d imagined his response or not. But then, just as quickly, you beamed at him. “I knew it! You’ve got that ‘gritty, fight-anyone-who-looks-at-you-wrong’ vibe. Bet you were one of those enforcers, huh? Knocking people’s teeth out?”
Logan snorted, a sound that surprised even him. He hadn’t meant to make it, but there it was. “Something like that.”
You practically bounced on your heels, grinning like you’d just unlocked some great mystery. “That’s awesome! You’ll have to teach me some moves one day. I mean, I’m not a hockey player, but I do love watching the games. Fast-paced, brutal—right up your alley, I bet.”
Logan didn’t respond, but something about the way you said it—about how easily you talked to him, how you didn’t flinch at his gruffness—made him feel… different. Not in a bad way, but in a way that was unfamiliar.
It felt comfortable. And that was terrifying.
---
After that day, something shifted between you two. It wasn’t drastic, but it was there—a slow, almost imperceptible change. Logan found himself responding more often, if only with a few words here and there. You, in turn, seemed to take his gruff replies as victories, your laughter growing warmer every time he said something back.
You still talked a lot. About your shop, about the town, about random things you found amusing. Logan didn’t mind, though. Your voice became part of the background, something that made the shop feel… alive.
And then, one Sunday, you hit him with the invitation that he hadn’t seen coming.
“Hey, Logan?” you called from behind the counter as you wiped down the tables after the last customer of the day had left.
He looked up from his coffee, raising an eyebrow in question.
“So, I was thinking… I’ve got this Sunday dinner tradition, and I usually eat alone, which is fine, but it’d be way more fun if you joined me,” you said, words spilling out in that usual rapid-fire way you had. “I’m making lasagna—well, trying to, anyway. It’s kind of a work in progress, but it’s edible, I promise.”
Logan stared at you for a moment, trying to figure out if you were serious. Dinner? With him? It was the kind of thing people did when they were friends, or at least something close to it.
He wasn’t sure he was ready for that. But the look on your face—hopeful, yet casual, like you weren't pressuring him—made it hard to say no. You weren't asking much. Just dinner.
“I don’t do lasagna,” he said gruffly, setting his mug down.
You blinked, clearly not expecting that response. “Oh… okay. Well, what do you do? I can make something else—anything you like.”
He sighed, knowing he was walking right into the trap. “Steak. Rare.”
Your face lit up like Christmas had come early. “Steak it is! Sunday, six o’clock. Don’t be late!”
And just like that, Logan found himself sitting at your table a few days later, cutting into a steak that was cooked almost perfectly, and listening to you ramble on about some small-town drama that he didn’t care about in the slightest. But he listened anyway, because for the first time in longer than he could remember, he didn’t mind the noise.
It was… nice. And that unsettled him more than anything.
---
Sunday dinners became a thing. He didn’t know how it happened, or when it happened, but suddenly, every Sunday at six, Logan found himself sitting at your table, eating whatever meal you’d decided to cook that week.
In return, he invited you over one evening to watch a hockey game. He wasn’t much of a TV guy, but the game was on, and he figured if you liked hockey as much as you said you did, it wouldn’t hurt to have someone else to sit in silence with while the action played out on the screen.
But, of course, silence wasn’t part of the deal with you.
“Oh my God, that hit was brutal!” you exclaimed, clutching the edge of the couch as one of the players was slammed into the boards. “Is it bad that I kind of love that part?”
Logan chuckled, a sound he was still getting used to making around you. “That’s the best part.”
They watched the rest of the game, and by the end of it, you were nearly bouncing off the couch with excitement, throwing out commentary as if you were one of the analysts. Logan didn’t mind. It reminded him of the old days, of sitting in dingy bars with teammates, knocking back beers after a hard fight. It felt good. Comfortable.
Too comfortable.
---
That comfort was the problem. The more time Logan spent with you, the more he found himself settling into a routine—a dangerous routine. Sunday dinners. Hockey nights. Coffee in the mornings, with your cheerful voice filling the air as you teased him about his gruffness.
He could feel himself relaxing around you, letting his guard down in ways he hadn’t done in years. And that scared the hell out of him.
Logan had learned long ago that comfort didn’t last. It couldn’t. People left. People died. He was a walking reminder of that. The more comfortable he got, the harder it would be when it all inevitably fell apart. And it would fall apart. It always did.
So he started to pull away.
It wasn’t drastic at first. Just little things. He stopped responding as much when you talked to him. He’d grunt instead of offering actual words. He’d sit in the shop for shorter amounts of time, finishing his coffee faster so he didn’t have to linger in your presence.
You noticed, of course. You weren’t oblivious.
“You okay?” you asked one morning, your usual smile faltering just a little as you set his coffee down in front of him.
Logan didn’t meet your gaze. “Yeah. Fine.”
But he wasn’t fine, and you both knew it.
The following week, he didn’t show up for Sunday dinner. He didn’t even call to cancel—he didn’t have your number anyway. He figured you’d get the message. You didn’t need him complicating your life. You didn’t need his baggage, his darkness.
And he sure as hell didn’t need to get attached to someone who would eventually leave, one way or another.
Days passed, and Logan avoided the coffee shop altogether. He holed up in his cabin, kept to himself, buried his feelings under layers of gruff silence. He told himself it was for the best. He was saving both of them from whatever disaster was waiting down the road.
But the silence that followed his absence was unbearable.
---
You had always been good at reading people, even if they didn’t want to be read. And Logan? He was the kind of guy who had ‘walls’ written all over him, the kind of guy who didn’t let people in easily
***
Logan sat in his small living room, the faint crackle of the fireplace the only sound in the cabin. He had a beer in his hand and an ever-present scowl on his face. The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting the room in shadows, but he didn’t bother to turn on any lights. There was no point. Darkness suited him just fine.
His phone buzzed on the coffee table, and Logan grunted, already knowing who it was without checking. Wade had been pestering him all week, leaving voice messages filled with his usual barrage of nonsense, bad jokes, and bizarre references. Most days, Logan ignored him. But tonight, for reasons he couldn’t quite figure out, he picked up.
“What do you want, Wade?” Logan grumbled as he hit the video call button.
The screen flickered to life, and there was Wade Wilson—Deadpool—grinning like an idiot, wearing what looked like a unicorn onesie, complete with a rainbow mane on the hood.
“Logan!” Wade exclaimed, way too loudly. “My favorite grumpy Canadian! How’s life in the great wide wilderness? Have you finally turned into a lumberjack or are you just planning on brooding yourself into oblivion?”
Logan rolled his eyes, already regretting answering. “What the hell do you want, Wade?”
“What do I want?” Wade gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “What do I want? Just to check in on my best buddy, that’s all! It’s been ages. I’m just making sure you haven’t gotten yourself eaten by a bear or, you know, spontaneously combusted from sheer grumpiness.”
“I’m fine,” Logan said flatly, taking a long pull from his beer.
Wade squinted at him through the screen. “You sure about that, pal? You look like you’ve been chewing on nails and spitting out iron filings. You’re not even gonna give me a smile? Not even a little one?”
Logan grunted. “Don’t push it.”
Wade wiggled his eyebrows. “So, how’s the new reality treating you? You’re all settled in, yeah? Got your cabin, got your woods, got your mysterious brooding vibe going strong. You must be in paradise.”
Logan leaned back in his chair, trying to get comfortable, but Wade’s incessant cheer made it impossible. “It’s fine. Quiet. Just how I like it.”
“Oh sure, I bet,” Wade said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m sure you’re just living the dream out there, all by yourself, surrounded by nothing but trees and loneliness. Except…wait a minute…” He leaned in close to the camera, his eyes narrowing. “What about that neighbor you mentioned once or twice? What was her name?”
Logan answered before he could stop himself.
Wade’s face lit up with a devilish grin. “Ah! That’s the one! Sooo… how’s she doing? Is she still making you that delicious, life-changing coffee?”
Logan’s jaw tightened. He didn’t want to have this conversation. Not with Wade. Not with anyone.
“It’s nothing,” Logan muttered, his voice low. “She’s just… a neighbor.”
Wade leaned back, folding his arms over his chest, clearly enjoying this more than he should. “Just the neighbor, huh? You sure about that? ‘Cause from what I’ve gathered, you’ve been spending a lot of time over at that little coffee shop of hers. And I don’t think it’s just because she makes a killer latte.”
Logan’s grip on the beer bottle tightened. “I go there for the coffee. That’s it.”
“Uh-huh,” Wade said, nodding slowly, his eyes wide with fake innocence. “So, no other reason, huh? Not even a teensy, tiny bit of interest in just her? You’re not, I dunno, secretly enjoying her bubbly personality? Maybe even starting to like the fact that she talks your ear off every morning?”
Logan growled, a low rumble that vibrated through his chest. “I told you, Wade. She’s nothing special. Just an annoying, overly cheerful neighbor who won’t leave me alone.”
Wade’s grin faltered for a second, but Logan didn’t notice. He was too caught up in his own frustration, the words spilling out faster than he could stop them.
“She talks too much. Laughs too damn much. Always smiling, always trying to drag me into these pointless conversations,” Logan snapped, his voice rising. “And she’s always… happy. Like, ridiculously happy. It’s like she’s never had a bad day in her life, and it’s just… it’s too much. I don’t need that. I don’t want that.”
Wade held up a hand, trying to interject, but Logan kept going, his anger building with each word.
“She’s not even a friend. Just this… annoying bother who stumbled into my life and won’t let go. She doesn’t get it—she doesn’t get me. She’s… she’s a distraction. A useless, loud, irritating distraction.”
“Logan—” Wade tried to say, his voice quieter now, but Logan didn’t hear him.
“And what’s worse is, no matter how much I try to push her away, she just keeps coming back. With her damn coffee and her stupid smile and her endless chatter. I don’t need that kind of noise in my life. I don’t need her. I don’t need anyone.”
“Logan—” Wade said again, this time more urgently, his eyes flicking to something off-screen. But Logan wasn’t paying attention.
“I just want to be left alone, Wade. That’s it. Alone.”
There was a beat of silence. The fire crackled in the background, and Logan took a deep breath, his anger slowly ebbing as he realized how much he’d said. He hadn’t meant to go off like that, but once he’d started, the floodgates had opened.
Wade cleared his throat. “Uh… Logan, buddy. You might wanna turn around.”
Logan’s brow furrowed. “What?”
Wade pointed over Logan’s shoulder, a tight, uncomfortable smile on his face. “Turn. Around.”
Logan’s body went rigid. Slowly, he turned in his chair, the weight of Wade’s words sinking into his chest. His heart pounded as his gaze landed on the porch.
And there, standing in the fading light, was you.
You were holding a tray with two cups of coffee and a box—probably filled with some homemade baked goods, knowing you. Your face was pale, eyes wide with shock and hurt. You looked frozen in place, as if you couldn’t quite believe what you’d just heard.
Logan’s mouth went dry, a sinking feeling settling deep in his gut.
You blinked, smile weak, forced, like you were trying to hold it together. “I, uh… I’m sorry,” you said, your voice so soft it barely reached him. “I didn’t mean to… overhear. I just… I brought you some coffee and… and a little something to eat.”
Logan opened his mouth to say something, to explain, but no words came. He was trapped, frozen by the weight of his own mistakes, of everything he’d just said.
Your eyes flicked to the ground, and you set the tray down on the porch railing, hands shaking just slightly. “I’ll… I’ll just go.”
You didn’t wait for him to respond. You didn’t say anything else. You just turned and walked away, the sound of footsteps fading as you disappeared down the gravel road toward your house.
Logan stood there, staring at the tray you’d left behind, a hollow ache spreading through his chest. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to do.
He’d hurt you. The one thing he’d tried so hard not to do, and he’d done it anyway.
Behind him, Wade’s voice broke the heavy silence. “Well, Logan, you really stepped in it this time.”
Logan didn’t respond. He just stood there, his fists clenched at his sides, watching the spot where you had been moments before, his mind racing with all the things he wished he could take back.
But it was too late.
You were gone.
***
You could still remember the day you first saw him—the man who seemed to be carved out of stone, with a permanent scowl etched on his face and eyes that carried the weight of the world. He’d been sitting on the porch of his small, weather-beaten cabin, a cigar clamped between his teeth, exuding an aura of "stay the hell away." And yet, there was something about him that drew you in. Maybe it was because, despite that gruff exterior, you sensed something familiar. Something like loneliness.
You had just moved into your new home, a quaint little place down the road. It wasn’t much, but it was yours. After years of drifting from place to place, trying to find somewhere that felt like home, You had finally found this sleepy little town. It had charm, history, and enough distance from your past to feel like a fresh start.
Your coffee shop, Beans of Heaven, had been a dream for years, and now it was finally real. You poured your heart into the place—every morning waking up early to bake pastries, grind fresh coffee beans, and create an atmosphere that felt warm and welcoming. But something was missing. Maybe someone was missing.
Then there was Logan, your grumpy, brooding neighbor who never smiled and hardly ever spoke. He intrigued you in ways you couldn’t explain, but more than that, he reminded you of something you had been missing for a long time: companionship. And though you knew he was the type of man who would rather chew glass than have a heartfelt conversation, you wanted to get to know him. You wanted to be his friend.
---
The first time you approached Logan, you were filled with usual optimism. You had introduced yourself with a wide smile, carrying a box of fresh pastries and two cups of coffee—hoping that a bit of kindness might crack through his tough exterior. His reaction, or lack thereof, had been exactly what you’d expected: a grunt, a nod, and nothing more.
Most people would’ve given up after that first encounter. You weren’t most people.
You didn’t let Logan’s cold demeanor deter you. Day after day, you greeted him at the shop with the same enthusiasm, offering him a free coffee or some fresh-baked cookies. He never accepted anything beyond his usual black coffee, and most of the time he’d just sit in silence, staring out the window. But still, he came back, and that was enough to encourage you.
You had always been the “bubbly” one. The girl with too much energy, too much cheer. It was part of who you were, and you liked to believe that this positivity could rub off on others. But in reality, making friends has never been easy for you. People would be drawn to the warmth and laughter at first, but eventually, they’d drift away. Your constant need for connection, endless talking, enthusiasm—it all became too much for them.
You’d had friends in the past—plenty of them, in fact—but they never stayed for long. They would start to roll their eyes when you laughed too hard or sigh when you talked too much. Slowly, subtly, they’d pull away, leaving you feeling like you were always too much. Too much of a handful. Too much energy. Too much emotion.
So when Logan accepted your invitation to Sunday dinner for the first time, you had been over the moon. He had seemed so closed off, so unreachable, that you hadn’t expected him to agree. And yet, there he was, sitting at your table, cutting into a steak and grumbling his way through dinner. He wasn’t exactly the picture of warmth, but just having him there, sharing a meal with you, felt like a small victory.
Then came the hockey night. Logan had invited you over, and for once, it wasn’t you doing all the pushing. You’d sit on his couch, cheering on the players, feeling more alive than you had in a long time. For a while, everything felt… comfortable.
It was strange to feel so at ease around someone like Logan, but that was the thing—despite his grumpiness, despite his silence—he made you feel safe. You didn’t feel the need to tone yourself down or apologize for being “too much.” With Logan, you could be herself, and that feeling was rare.
---
As the weeks went by, you found herself growing closer to Logan, though “closer” in Logan’s world didn’t mean much. He still grumbled more than he spoke, and he rarely shared anything personal. But the fact that he kept showing up—whether it was for coffee in the mornings, or Sunday dinners at your place—meant more to you than you could ever express.
And somewhere along the way, your feelings started to change.
It wasn’t just friendship you were after anymore. No, it had become something much deeper than that.
You were falling for Logan. Fast and hard.
You hadn’t meant to. It wasn’t like you had planned on it. But there was something about him—something in the way he was so guarded, so rough around the edges, yet kind in the smallest of ways—that made your heart ache. You had seen glimpses of who he really was beneath that tough exterior, and those glimpses made you want to know more. Made you want him.
It was the little things that got to you. Like the way he’d sit quietly and actually listen to you, even when you rambled on about random things. Or how he’d sometimes mutter a sarcastic comment that made you laugh, even when you knew he was trying to sound annoyed. There was a softness to him, buried deep down, and you wanted to uncover it. You wanted to make him smile.
But Logan was a hard man to read, and just when you thought they were becoming friends, just when you thought there might be something more between them, he started pulling away.
---
It wasn’t drastic at first. Just small changes. Logan became quieter, more distant. He stopped responding as much when you talked, going back to his old ways of grunting and nodding instead of giving those rare, short responses you had come to appreciate.
Then, he started spending less time at the coffee shop. He’d come in, get his coffee, and leave without saying much. The conversations you both used to have, no matter how one-sided, seemed to dwindle, replaced by a heavy silence that you didn’t know how to break.
It hurt. You didn’t want to admit it, but it did. After all the time they’d spent together, after all the dinners and the quiet moments, you had started to believe that maybe—just maybe—Logan felt the same way about you as you did about him.
But his distance told you otherwise.
You had never been good at confrontation. You hated the idea of pushing someone into talking about something they didn’t want to. But with Logan, it was different. You didn’t want to lose whatever connection you had. You didn’t want to be just another person who drifted away from him.
So, one evening, you made up your mind. You were going to talk to him. Maybe even… ask him out. You had never been this nervous before, not with anyone else. But Logan was different. He mattered.
You baked his favorite dessert—black olive brownies, not too sweet, just like he liked them. It was something he had mentioned in passing once, a rare glimpse into the things he enjoyed. You had never heard of anyone liking such a strange combination, but you had found a recipe and made it work. You wanted it to be perfect.
Logan had given you a key to his cabin a while ago—“Just in case,” he had said, gruffly, one day after dinner. He’d made it sound like no big deal, but to you, it had meant everything. He trusted you, at least in some small way.
---
That evening, you decided you’d surprise him. Show up with the brownies and some coffee, and just… talk. Maybe you’d tell him how you felt. Maybe you wouldn’t. But at the very least, you wanted to clear the air between you two. You didn’t want to lose him.
You walked up the gravel path to his cabin, your heart pounding in your chest, the tray of brownies carefully balanced in your hands. You were nervous—more nervous than you’d ever been—but you told yourself that everything would be fine. Logan wasn’t the type of man who would just shut you out completely. He wouldn’t hurt you. Not intentionally.
But as you reached the porch, you heard voices.
Logan’s voice, deep and rough, coming from inside the cabin. And someone else—someone familiar.
You paused just before you reached the door, your hand halfway to the knob. It was Wade’s voice. You smiled to herself, remembering the way Logan would grumble about Wade’s constant calls and visits. He’d only ever mentioned Wade a few times, but you could tell the two of them had a complicated friendship.
You didn’t mean to eavesdrop. You didn’t want to. But something in Logan’s tone stopped you in her tracks.
“…she’s just an annoying, overly cheerful neighbor who won’t leave me alone.”
You froze.
Your heart clenched in your chest as the words sunk in, cutting through you like a knife. You told yourself you must have misheard, that maybe Logan was talking about someone else, but then he continued.
“She’s not even a friend. Just this… annoying bother who stumbled into my life and won’t let go. She doesn’t get it—she doesn’t get me. She’s a distraction. A useless, loud, irritating distraction.”
You felt your hands start to shake, the tray of brownies wobbling in your grasp. You could hear Wade trying to interrupt him, trying to stop him, but Logan’s voice kept going, his words growing harsher, more defensive.
“I just want to be left alone, Wade. That’s it. Alone.”
The world seemed to tilt on its axis as you stood there, frozen on the porch. Your mind raced, your heart pounding so loud you could barely hear anything else. You had come here to talk to him, to open yourself up in a way you hadn’t done in years. You had thought—no, had hoped—that maybe Logan cared about you, even in his gruff, distant way.
But now, standing there, hearing him tear you apart with his words, you realized how wrong you had been.
You had always been too much for people. Too much energy. Too much positivity. Too much… everything. And now, once again, you have pushed someone away without even realizing it.
Your stupid, foolish heart had fallen for someone who didn’t want you. Who didn’t even see you as a friend. You had been a distraction to him—nothing more than a nuisance he had tolerated out of some sense of politeness.
Tears stung your eyes, but you blinked them away. You wouldn’t cry. Not here. Not now.
You set the tray of brownies down on the porch railing, Your hands trembling as you adjusted the coffee cups next to them. You stood there for a moment, staring at the door at Logan, when he turned around.
Taking a deep breath, you forced a weak smile onto your face. It was a habit. Something you did when you needed to hold yourself together.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, to Logan. “I didn’t mean to… bother you.”
With that, you turned and walked away, your heart breaking with every step.
---
You had always been the type of person who saw the best in people. You believed in second chances, in redemption, in the idea that everyone deserves kindness. But now, as you walked back to your little house down the road, you felt that familiar ache settling deep in your chest—the one you had felt too many times before.
You had been too much for Logan. Just like you had been too much for everyone else in your life. Friends, acquaintances, even your family—they had all grown tired of you eventually. Of your laughter, energy, the need to connect with people. You had tried so hard to fit in, to make yourself smaller, to be less of a burden. But it never worked.
And now, Logan—the one person you had thought might be different—had proven you wrong.
You were destined to be alone. To always be too much for people to handle.
Logan had made it clear how he felt.
He wanted to be alone, and you would respect that. You wouldn’t bother him anymore. You wouldn’t force your way into his life, trying to make him laugh or smile or feel anything at all. You would leave him alone, just like he wanted.
And maybe, just maybe, you’d learn to live with that.
***
Logan hadn’t planned on hurting you. Hell, he hadn’t planned on any of it. He’d only been trying to keep you at arm’s length—just like he did with everyone else. It wasn’t like he was good with people. He’d learned that a long time ago, that anyone who got close to him ended up hurt one way or another. He was a mess of scars and guilt, haunted by too many lifetimes of pain. He was trying to save you from that.
But now, sitting alone in his cabin, the familiar quiet pressing in on him from all sides, Logan realized just how wrong he’d been. The stillness, the silence—it wasn’t the peace he’d been craving. It was suffocating.
He had driven you away.
It had been days since you’d heard him call you “an annoying, overly cheerful neighbor who wouldn’t leave him alone.” Days since you’d heard him say you weren’t even a friend, that you were just a distraction, a bother. Days since he’d noticed the way your smile had faltered, the way your shoulders had slumped ever so slightly before you quietly left, your tray of coffee and brownies left behind like a sad reminder of what he’d done.
At first, Logan had convinced himself it was for the best. You’d get over it, move on with your life, and he’d go back to the way things were before you’d stumbled into his world. Before you’d made him laugh—actually laugh—or shared your endless supply of kindness, even when he’d done nothing to deserve it.
But that wasn’t how it went.
You didn’t bounce back like you usually did. You didn’t come by the cabin the next day, or the day after that. And the longer the days stretched without you, the heavier Logan’s chest felt. The realization hit him slowly but forcefully: he didn’t want to go back to how things were before.
He missed you.
***
Logan hadn’t stepped foot in your shop since that night, but after nearly a week of dodging the place, he finally couldn’t stand it anymore. So he went. The bell above the door jingled as he walked in, and the familiar scent of fresh coffee and pastries filled the air. But something was off. Something that made Logan’s gut twist uncomfortably.
You were there behind the counter, as usual, but you weren’t the same. Gone was the lively energy that always filled the shop, replaced by a quietness that felt entirely wrong in this place. You weren’t laughing with customers or talking their ears off about the latest coffee blend you were experimenting with. You were polite, efficient, but that was it. Nothing more.
And when you saw him, your expression didn’t change. No smile, no warmth. Just a quiet nod as you took his order like he was any other customer.
It stung more than Logan cared to admit.
He approached the counter, trying to find the words—words he wasn’t good at, words that felt heavy and awkward in his mouth. “Look, I… I’m sorry,” he grumbled, his voice low, rough, as if the words themselves were foreign to him.
You looked up at him, your eyes soft but distant, and gave him a small, tight smile. “There’s no need to apologize, Logan. Really. It’s fine.”
It wasn’t fine. It was anything but fine, and he could see it in the way you held yourself. You were still kind, still polite, but there was a distance there now, a wall that hadn’t been there before. It was like you had taken all that warmth you used to shower him with and locked it away, offering him only the bare minimum.
“You don’t need to act like… like nothing happened,” Logan muttered, his frustration bubbling up despite himself. He didn’t know how to fix this, but he hated the way you were looking at him like he was just another face in the crowd.
But you shook your head, that same small, strained smile on your face. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I understand.”
You turned to grab his coffee, but Logan could see the slight tremble in your hands. You were hurt, even if you weren’t saying it outright. And you were trying so damn hard to pretend like it didn’t matter, like his words hadn’t struck you right in the heart.
When you handed him the coffee, your eyes briefly flickered with something—something like sadness—but then it was gone, replaced with that same forced politeness.
“Thanks,” he muttered, taking the cup. He lingered for a moment, hoping you’d say something more, but you didn’t. You just moved on to the next customer, your back turned to him like he wasn’t even there.
Logan left the shop feeling worse than he had when he walked in.
The next few days were no better. Logan started coming back to the coffee shop more regularly, hoping to find a way to fix things, but every time, you treated him the same. Like any other customer. No more easy conversation, no more warmth in your voice, no more lingering smiles.
You were kind, but you were distant. Every interaction felt like a transaction—polite, professional, but cold. And the worst part? Logan could see how much it hurt you to act that way. He could see the moments where you started to talk to him like you used to, where your eyes lit up for a split second like you wanted to tell him about something funny that happened or share one of your stories. But then you’d catch yourself, and the light would die, replaced by that same tired, distant smile.
You were holding yourself back, and Logan knew it was because of him.
He wasn’t the only one who noticed the change in you. Some of your regulars—people who had known you long before Logan ever showed up—started asking if everything was okay. You just brushed them off with a laugh, saying you were tired or had been busy lately, but Logan knew better.
It was his words that had drained you. His careless, stupid words that had taken the best part of you—the part that had always been so full of life—and dimmed it.
And it killed him to know that.
***
The worst part came on a Saturday afternoon before your Sunday dinner meeting the next day, just as Logan was about to leave the shop. He had started to make a habit of stopping by, hoping that maybe—just maybe—you’d start talking to him like you used to. That maybe you’d give him a chance to make things right. But that hadn’t happened. Not yet.
As he reached the door, your voice stopped him.
“Logan?” you called softly, and he turned to see you standing behind the counter, your hands nervously fidgeting with a dishtowel.
“Yeah?” he grunted, turning to face you fully, his brow furrowed.
You hesitated, your eyes flicking to the floor before you spoke. “About tomorrow… You don’t have to come to dinner if you don’t want to. I… I understand if you’d rather not.”
Logan’s heart sank. You had always invited him to Sunday dinner, ever since you’d become friends. It had become part of the routine, something comfortable and familiar. And now, you were telling him it was okay if he didn’t come. That he didn’t have to be there.
The way you said it—the quiet resignation in your voice—it was like you were apologizing for existing. Like you thought you’d pushed him too far by inviting him into your life, by asking for his company.
You looked up at him, your eyes filled with a soft sadness. “I’m sorry if I… if I pushed too hard. I just… I thought maybe you enjoyed it. But if you don’t, it’s okay. I don’t want to bother you.”
Logan stared at you, his throat tight, his chest heavy with guilt. You thought you were the one who had pushed too hard? You thought you were the one who needed to apologize?
“Don’t,” he muttered, his voice rough. “Don’t do that. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
You just gave him a small, sad smile. “It’s okay, Logan. Really. I understand.”
You didn’t wait for his response. You just turned back to the counter, your shoulders slumped as you busied yourself with cleaning up, as if the conversation had never happened. As if you weren’t slowly slipping away from him, bit by bit.
Logan left the shop with a heavy heart, the weight of everything he’d done crashing down on him all at once.
***
Logan stared at the TV, barely seeing the game. The familiar roar of the crowd, the sharp scrape of skates on ice—all of it faded into the background as his mind drifted back to you.
The silence in the cabin was suffocating. Usually, you’d be here by now, sitting next to him on the couch, your laughter filling the room as you tried to explain to him why one team’s jersey design was superior to the other. You didn’t know much about hockey, but it never stopped you from trying to keep up.
But tonight, the couch beside him was empty.
Logan shifted uncomfortably, his hand resting on the cold beer he hadn’t even opened. He thought back to yesterday, to the way you’d looked at him when you told him he didn’t have to come to dinner. The quiet apology in your voice, the way you’d tried to act like everything was fine even though it clearly wasn’t. You’d been pulling away, bit by bit, and Logan had done nothing to stop it.
He couldn’t shake the image of you standing behind the counter, your usual light dimmed, your eyes tired in a way that had nothing to do with sleep. And the worst part was, you had apologized to him. You had made it seem like you were the problem, like you had pushed too hard when in reality, it was him who had shoved you away.
And now, here he was—alone, with nothing but the echo of your absence to keep him company.
Logan reached for his phone, his fingers hovering over the screen for a moment before he sighed, setting it down on the table with a heavy thud. He didn’t know how to fix this. He wasn’t good at apologies, wasn’t good at talking about his feelings or admitting when he’d screwed up. But he couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t.
And then, like a lightbulb flickering on in the back of his mind, he realized there was only one person he could call.
Logan stared at his phone for what felt like hours, the gnawing pit in his stomach getting worse with every passing minute. He didn’t want to make this call. Of all the people in the world, Wade Wilson was the last person Logan wanted to ask for help. But Wade had been there that night. He had seen everything—and worse, he had seen you.
That meant Wade knew. And if Wade knew, well, Logan had no choice but to call him.
With a resigned sigh, Logan tapped Wade’s number. The phone rang twice before Wade’s obnoxious voice burst through the speaker.
“Logan! My brooding, hairy amigo! What can I do for you? You need a babysitter for Laura? Oh, oh! Wait, I got it—you wanna do a buddy cop movie together! I’ll be the zany, charming sidekick, and you can be the angry guy who growls a lot. Wait, you already do that. So I’ll be—"
“Wade,” Logan growled, cutting him off. “I need your help.”
There was a pause, and Logan could almost hear the grin forming on Wade’s face.
“Oh my God. Hold on. Hold the f—beep—up,” Wade said, dropping his voice like he was narrating a dramatic trailer. “‘Logan needs my help.’ Wow. Wow, guys, are we hearing this? Logan, a.k.a. the Grumpiest X-Man, a.k.a. ‘I don’t need anybody,’ is asking me for help. This is huge! Character development, people! Mark this down for the sequel.”
Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, already regretting the call. “Wade…”
“Okay, okay, I’m done. I’m done. What’s the problem? Did you finally realize that leather jackets and flannel aren’t a personality?”
Logan gritted his teeth. “It’s about her.”
Another pause. Then, in classic Wade fashion, the tone shifted completely. “Ohhh. Right, the cute neighbor girl with the coffee shop. The one you totally ruined. I remember now. Dude, you really shit the bed on that one, huh?”
Logan clenched his fist, the memory of that night still fresh in his mind. “Yeah… she heard me say some things. Things I didn’t mean.”
“Oh nooo,” Wade groaned dramatically, dragging out the vowels. “You did the whole ‘I’m a lone wolf, I don’t need friends, emotions are for weaklings’ bit, didn’t you? The classic Logan screw-up! Ten out of ten, would not recommend.”
Logan didn’t respond, which was answer enough.
“Dude, she was standing right there with coffee and brownies!” Wade continued. “You might as well have drop-kicked a puppy in front of her. It was painful to watch! I mean, not as painful as X-Men Origins: Wolverine, but still…” He paused, and Logan could practically hear him smirking. “You know she left that tray behind, right? I ate the brownies. They were a little too sweet, but solid effort. Girl’s got a good heart.”
Logan growled, feeling the sting of regret twist deeper in his chest. “I get it, Wade. I messed up.”
“Yeah, no kidding. But here’s the thing, Wolvie,” Wade said, his tone suddenly shifting to something more genuine. “She didn’t just hear you. She heard you, you know? She was standing right there. That ‘annoying’ comment? That hit her like a damn truck. And if you think she’s just going to bounce back with a smile and a cup of coffee like nothing happened, you’re delusional. This is a Hallmark movie waiting to happen, and right now, you’re the grumpy lumberjack who just drove her back to the city.”
Logan swallowed, the weight of Wade’s words hitting him hard. He hadn’t just hurt you; he’d made you feel like you didn’t matter. And for someone like you—someone who put so much heart into everything you did—that was unforgivable.
“So what do I do?” Logan muttered, his voice low.
“You gotta fix it, obviously,” Wade replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You’ve gotta show her that you care. And yeah, that means talking about your feelings, Logan. I know it’s your least favorite thing after happy endings and Deadpool sequels, but tough luck. She’s not a mind reader. You gotta tell her what she means to you.”
Logan frowned. “I don’t… I don’t know how to do that.”
Wade made a dramatic sigh. “Oh, come on! You’ve got claws, a healing factor, and that grizzled Clint Eastwood vibe going on, but you don’t know how to tell a girl you care about her? Listen, all you gotta do is be real. Apologize for being an emotionally constipated idiot, and tell her the truth. That’s it. No drama. No over-the-top declarations of love. Just tell her how you feel.”
Logan sat in silence, the weight of Wade’s words sinking in. He knew Wade was right—God help him, Wade was actually right. If he didn’t fix this, he’d lose you. And after everything, he couldn’t let that happen.
“And for the record,” Wade added, breaking the silence, “if this turns into some epic romantic moment, I better be invited to the wedding. I’ve already got a Deadpool tux ordered, and trust me, it’s glorious.”
Logan sighed, already regretting the call. “Thanks, Wade.”
“Anytime, Wolvie,” Wade chirped, his voice back to its usual annoying cheer. “Now go make things right, and remember—don’t stab anyone while apologizing. That’s generally frowned upon.”
Logan hung up, staring at the phone for a moment longer. Wade’s advice was ringing in his ears. He had to fix this. He had to tell you the truth, no matter how hard it was.
Because losing you wasn’t an option.
***
Logan stood outside your coffee shop, the weight of his own guilt pressing down on him harder than any enemy he’d ever faced. He’d never been good with words, never been good at talking about feelings or admitting when he was wrong. But this? This was something he had to do.
The bell above the door jingled as he pushed it open, the familiar scent of coffee and freshly baked pastries filling the air. It was a comfort, but today, it did little to ease the tension in his chest.
You were behind the counter, as always, but Logan could tell right away that something had changed. You weren’t your usual self. Gone was the bright energy that had always seemed to follow you around like a cloud of sunshine. You smiled at customers, sure, but it was strained, and your usual chatter was replaced by polite, quiet exchanges.
Logan made his way to the counter, the words of apology swirling in his head, but when you looked up at him, something inside him twisted painfully. You looked tired—not physically, but emotionally. The light in your eyes had dimmed, and it was all because of him.
“Logan,” you greeted him softly, your voice polite but distant. “What can I get you?”
He shifted awkwardly, his usual gruff demeanor faltering as he tried to find the words. “We need to talk,” he said, his voice low.
You hesitated for a moment, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of the counter. “I’m working right now,” you replied, your tone calm but guarded. “But we can talk later. After I close up.”
Logan swallowed the lump in his throat. The distance in your voice was like a knife twisting in his gut, but he nodded. “I’ll wait,” he muttered.
You gave him a small, tight smile, the same one you’d been giving him ever since that night. The same one that wasn’t real.
“Okay,” you said quietly, and then you turned back to your work, leaving Logan standing there, feeling more lost than ever.
As he left the shop, Logan couldn’t shake the image of you trying to hold it all together—trying to act like his words hadn’t hurt you when he knew damn well they had.
And that was when he realized: this was the moment Wade had warned him about. He couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine. He had to tell you the truth, or he’d lose you for good.
And losing you was something he couldn’t handle.
***
Logan stood in the dim light of Beans of Heaven, waiting for the last customer to leave. The smell of fresh coffee hung in the air, comforting but laced with tension. He had rehearsed this conversation a thousand times in his head, but the words felt like jagged rocks in his throat. He wasn’t good at this—never had been. Hell, most of his life had been spent avoiding conversations like this altogether. But tonight, Logan couldn’t avoid it anymore.
You were cleaning up behind the counter, your movements slower than usual, the exhaustion clear in the way your shoulders sagged. You hadn’t said much to him since the night you overheard him—a few words here and there, nothing more. Logan didn’t blame you. He’d hurt you. Badly. And now, he had to own up to it.
When the last customer finally walked out, you turned the sign on the door to "Closed" and exhaled softly. You didn’t even glance his way as you started wiping down the tables. It was like the distance between you had grown into a chasm, one that Logan didn’t know how to cross.
But he was going to try.
“Can we talk?” Logan asked, his voice gruff but quiet.
You paused mid-wipe, your back still turned to him. There was a long, tense moment before you nodded and turned around to face him, leaning against the counter. You didn’t say anything, but your eyes told him enough—you were listening, but barely. Your guard was up, and Logan had no one to blame but himself for that.
“Let’s sit,” Logan said, gesturing to one of the tables.
You hesitated, then walked over to the table and sat down. Logan followed, his heart pounding harder than it had in any battle he’d fought. This wasn’t like fighting an enemy—he couldn’t punch his way through this. He had to speak, to explain himself, and that scared the hell out of him.
He sat across from you, his hands resting on the table, fingers tapping against the wood as he searched for the right words. For a moment, he just looked at you—your face drawn, tired, but still beautiful in that way that had pulled him in from the start. And he hated himself for what he was about to say, for the truth that was going to spill out.
“You deserve the truth,” Logan began, his voice low, rough. “About me. About why I… pushed you away.”
Your eyes flicked up to meet his, and he saw the hurt there, the confusion you’d been carrying ever since that night. He swallowed hard and continued.
“I ain’t from here,” he said, the words awkward as they came out. “Not… this world, I mean. I come from another universe. I came here—ended up here—after a lot of shit went down. My past… it’s a mess. Hell, I’m a mess.”
Your brow furrowed slightly, but you didn’t interrupt. Logan knew he had to keep going, to let the words out before he lost the nerve.
“I was part of a team once,” Logan continued, his gaze dropping to his hands. “The X-Men. We fought for something bigger than ourselves. We tried to make things better… tried to protect people. But I failed them. I let them die. All of ‘em. Professor X, Scott, Jean… the people I cared about most in the world. I couldn’t save them. And it broke me.”
He clenched his fists, the memories crashing down on him like a wave. He had relived those moments over and over again—his failure, the pain of losing everyone he loved.
“I ain’t good with people. Never have been,” Logan said, his voice raw. “I’ve spent my whole life pushing people away, ‘cause I know what happens when they get close. They get hurt. Or worse. I’ve seen it too many times.”
Logan hesitated, his eyes flicking back up to yours. There was something there—a softness, a flicker of understanding, but the hurt was still lingering behind it.
“That night,” Logan said, his voice dropping even lower, “when Wade started talkin’ about you… about us… I panicked. All I could think about was how I didn’t want to drag you into my mess. How I didn’t want to get close, ‘cause I knew it’d end up the same way it always does. So I said those things—those stupid, hurtful things. I didn’t mean ‘em. But I said ‘em anyway.”
Your expression didn’t change, but your fingers tightened around the edge of the table. Logan exhaled, feeling the weight of his confession pressing down on him.
“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he continued, his voice thick with regret. “But I did. And I can’t take that back. I don’t expect you to forgive me, or to trust me again. But you deserve to know that none of this is your fault. I pushed you away because of me. Because I’m afraid of losing you. Of losing anyone else.”
The silence that followed felt like it stretched on forever. Logan stared at the table, waiting for your response, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn’t know what he expected—anger, tears, maybe even for you to get up and walk away.
But when you finally spoke, your voice was quiet, steady.
“You hurt me, Logan,” you said, and the words hit him like a punch to the gut. “I’ve spent my whole life being the person who’s too much. Too loud. Too bubbly. People get tired of me. They always do. And when you said those things… it felt like you were just like the rest of them. Like you’d gotten tired of me too.”
Logan clenched his jaw, hating himself more with every word you spoke. He hadn’t just hurt you—he’d made you feel like you weren’t enough. Like you were the problem, when it was really him all along.
“I ain’t tired of you,” Logan said, his voice hoarse. “It wasn’t about that. It was my own damn head, my fears… my screwed-up past. I never wanted to hurt you. I swear.”
You looked at him for a long moment, your eyes searching his face as if you were trying to find some piece of the truth hidden there. Logan waited, his chest tight, his breath shallow. The silence between you felt heavy, thick with everything that had been left unsaid for too long.
When the silence stretched on too long, Logan shifted uncomfortably in his seat, murmuring a soft, “I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say. He’d laid it all out, and now it was up to you.
Logan pushed back from the table, ready to leave—ready to give you the space you needed, the space he had denied you by showing up tonight. He stood up, muttering, “I’ll leave you be. I shouldn’t have—”
“Logan.”
Your voice stopped him mid-step, and he turned to look at you, surprised.
You weren’t looking at him directly, but your voice was softer now, a little less guarded. “There’s a Cup final this Friday, and I was thinking… I could really go for some good beer.”
Logan stared at you for a second, processing your words. It wasn’t much—it wasn’t forgiveness, not yet—but it was something. It was an opening.
And for the first time in days, Logan felt a glimmer of hope.
“Beer, huh?” Logan grunted, his lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smile. “I think I can manage that.”
You looked up at him then, a small, tentative smile playing at the corners of your lips. And in that moment, Logan knew—he hadn’t lost you completely. Not yet.
***
Logan noticed it in the way your conversations shifted. There was a playfulness between you now that hadn’t always been there before. You teased each other more, flirted even—though you hadn’t quite called it that yet. It was lighthearted at first, a few sarcastic remarks here, a little banter there, but it started to build into something more, something that made Logan’s chest tighten every time you smiled in response to one of his comments.
There were nights when the two of you would close up the shop together, and instead of going your separate ways, you’d sit together in the shop long after it had closed, sharing stories and laughing about things that weren’t even that funny. Logan would bring over a six-pack of beer or you’d dig into the pastries that didn’t sell that day, both of you just… existing together in a way that felt easy, natural.
And the flirting? It became less subtle over time. There was a heat behind it now, a charge that wasn’t there before, like the two of you were slowly testing the waters of something more but neither of you wanted to be the first to dive in.
One night, Logan had come over to your place, a rare occurrence, but something that was happening more frequently. You had invited him over after the shop had closed, and instead of sitting in silence or watching hockey, you’d both cracked open some beers and ended up watching a cheesy romantic comedy that was so bad, it was actually kind of good.
The movie wasn’t exactly what Logan had expected—it was all grand gestures and overly dramatic declarations of love—but there was something about watching it with you that made it… bearable. More than bearable, actually. He found himself laughing along with you, making sarcastic remarks at the ridiculous plot, and somewhere along the way, he realized that he was enjoying it.
Not because of the movie itself, but because of you.
You’d both sat on the couch, not quite touching but close enough that Logan could feel the warmth of your body beside his. And as the movie dragged on, filled with all the usual rom-com clichés, Logan couldn’t help but think about how different this felt—how different you felt. There was something so easy about being around you, something that calmed the constant storm in his head.
But there was something else too.
Logan found himself watching you more than the movie, the sound of your laughter pulling him out of his own thoughts. He’d never really thought about it before, but your laughter was like a balm—so different from the world he was used to. It wasn’t just noise. It was light, something that made his chest tighten in a way that felt both unfamiliar and too familiar at the same time.
When you caught him watching, you didn’t call him out for it. You just smiled, that warm, knowing smile that made him feel like maybe, just maybe, you understood him in ways no one else ever had.
“Logan,” you said softly, your eyes twinkling with amusement as the credits finally started to roll, “why do we always watch these terrible movies?”
Logan grunted, cracking open another beer. “You like ‘em,” he muttered, his usual gruff response. But there was something softer behind it now, something that wasn’t just irritation.
You chuckled, nudging his shoulder playfully. “Yeah, but you could just say no, you know. You don’t have to suffer through them with me.”
Logan shot you a sideways glance, his lips twitching into a small smirk. “Ain’t sufferin’.”
That made you pause for a moment, your expression softening as you looked at him. There was a flicker of something in your eyes—something that made Logan’s heart pound a little harder in his chest.
“Logan,” you said again, your voice quiet but steady, “when are you going to ask me out already?”
Logan’s breath caught in his throat. He wasn’t expecting you to be so direct—not tonight, not while you were sitting there in the afterglow of a stupid romantic movie you both hated and loved to hate. But there it was, out in the open, plain as day. The unspoken thing between you, finally given a name.
He didn’t answer at first. He just stared at you, his mind spinning as he tried to process what you’d just said. For so long, he’d kept that part of himself buried—the part that wanted more than just friendship, the part that wanted you. He’d been terrified of it, terrified of what it would mean if he let himself feel that way. But now, sitting here with you, the question hanging in the air between you, he wasn’t afraid anymore.
“I… don’t know,” Logan muttered, his voice low, but there was no hesitation in his tone. “Guess I’ve been thinkin’ about it.”
You tilted your head, your lips curving into a small smile. “And?”
Logan’s eyes flicked up to meet yours, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he let himself be honest.
“And I think I want to,” he admitted, his voice rough but sincere. “I just… I don’t want to mess this up. Don’t want to hurt you.”
You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you leaned in closer, your hand resting gently on his arm. It was a small gesture, but it sent a jolt of warmth through him, one that settled deep in his chest.
“Logan,” you said softly, your eyes searching his, “you won’t mess this up. I know you. I know who you are, and I know what you’re afraid of. But I’m not going anywhere.”
Logan swallowed hard, the weight of your words hitting him straight in the gut. He’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for the inevitable moment when he’d push you too far, or when you’d get tired of him, like everyone else had. But you weren’t like the others. You were still here, still looking at him with those warm, understanding eyes, still offering him more kindness than he thought he deserved.
And for once, Logan didn’t feel the need to run.
He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours as the space between you disappeared. It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t some grand gesture like the ones in those stupid rom-coms. It was quiet, simple. But it was real.
“I’m askin’ you now,” Logan murmured, his voice low, his lips brushing against yours. “Will you go out with me?”
Your smile widened, and you leaned in to close the distance between you, pressing your lips to his in a soft, slow kiss that said more than words ever could.
When you finally pulled back, your eyes sparkled with that familiar light that Logan had grown to love.
“Took you long enough,” you teased, your voice soft but filled with warmth.
Logan chuckled, his hand gently cupping your cheek. “Yeah. Guess I’m a slow learner.”
But for the first time in a long time, Logan wasn’t afraid of what came next. He wasn’t afraid of letting you in, of letting himself feel something more than just the weight of his past.
Because with you, it didn’t feel like he was carrying that burden alone anymore.
***
Logan hadn’t been on a date in… well, longer than he cared to admit. Most of his relationships in the past had been more of the “let’s get this over with” variety, not the kind of thing you planned or made special. But this—you—was different. He wanted to do this right. Wanted to show you that he was serious, that you mattered.
The problem was, he didn’t have a damn clue what “doing it right” even meant. What did people do on dates nowadays? Was it still flowers and a fancy dinner, or was that too old-fashioned? The last time Logan had actively thought about dating, people were still sending telegrams. He needed help, but the only person who came to mind made him groan internally.
Wade.
Of course, it had to be Wade.
Logan knew what he was getting himself into when he dialed the number, but that didn’t stop the immediate regret that washed over him when Wade answered on the first ring.
“Wolverine! You calling to finally admit that I’m the most charming, delightful human being in your life? Or is this about the wedding? Because, listen, I already have the tux, and it’s a Deadpool tux. It’s perfect. You’re gonna love it.”
Logan rubbed the bridge of his nose, already tired. “Wade, I need advice.”
There was a beat of silence, and then, predictably, Wade launched into a full-on monologue.
“Oh my God. Everyone stop! Logan needs advice! This is monumental! This is character development at its finest, folks. Truly groundbreaking stuff. So what is it? Planning a trip to the library? Want me to help you pick out your next flannel shirt? Or—wait, wait. It’s about her, isn’t it?”
Logan’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t deny it. “Yeah. I need to plan a date.”
“A DATE?!” Wade’s voice went up several octaves, and Logan immediately regretted every decision that had led him to this moment. “Oh, this is amazing! I knew it! I knew it! You and her, finally making it happen! See, I told you—grumpy loners can find love too!”
“Wade,” Logan growled, already losing his patience.
“Right, right. Focus,” Wade said, his tone shifting into something resembling helpfulness. “So, you’re planning a date. And you’re completely clueless, right? No worries, big guy. Your ol’ pal Wade is here to help you out. Here’s what you do: skip the over-the-top romantic crap. Don’t try to be something you’re not. She likes you for you, not for some shiny version of Logan who shows up with roses and a speech. Just… do something the two of you will actually enjoy. Something that won’t make either of you uncomfortable.”
Logan frowned, considering Wade’s words. As much as he hated to admit it, Wade had a point. A candlelit dinner at some fancy restaurant wasn’t him, and it sure as hell wasn’t you. You’d see right through it, and the last thing Logan wanted was to make you feel uncomfortable.
“Just be yourself, man,” Wade continued, as if he hadn’t already dropped enough wisdom for one phone call. “Do something that’ll make you both relax. Oh! And if things go well, don’t forget—consent is sexy. It’s the Wade Wilson guarantee.”
Logan grimaced. “Thanks, Wade.”
“Anytime! And remember—if you need a hype man, I’m your guy. I’ll show up in my tux with a bouquet of tacos and—”
Logan hung up before Wade could finish.
Wade’s words echoed in Logan’s mind as he sat at the kitchen table, staring at his phone. What could he do that would make this date feel like them? Something simple, something that would make you both comfortable.
Then it hit him.
That lake you had mentioned a while back—the one you’d talked about like it was the most peaceful place in the world. You’d told him about it on one of your long walks, how you used to go there to clear your head, to escape the noise of the world. A place where the stars felt closer, and everything else just… disappeared.
Logan could work with that. He wasn’t about to cook for you (that would probably end in disaster), but he could pick up some food, pack a cooler, and take you to that lake. It wasn’t fancy, but it felt right. And that’s what mattered.
The plan was simple: grab some food, drive out to the lake, and spend the evening under the stars. Just the two of you. He didn’t need grand gestures. He just needed you.
***
The sun was just starting to set when Logan pulled up to your place, his truck parked in front of your door. You stepped out, your hair tied back, wearing a beautiful dress that suited you perfectly. And damn, if Logan didn’t think you looked beautiful. No frills, no makeup—just you.
“Hey,” you said, a smile tugging at your lips as you approached the truck.
“Hey,” Logan grunted, returning your smile with a small one of his own.
He opened the door for you, and you climbed into the passenger seat, your eyes flicking to the cooler in the back. “What’s all that?” you asked, curiosity in your voice.
Logan shrugged, sliding into the driver’s seat. “Figured we’d grab some food and head out to that lake you told me about. Thought we could, y’know, just hang out.”
Your smile widened, the kind of smile that made Logan’s chest tighten in a way that felt both comforting and terrifying. “That sounds perfect.”
The drive to the lake was quiet, but it was a comfortable silence. Logan wasn’t much for small talk, and you seemed content just to sit back and enjoy the ride. The trees blurred past as they drove further away from town, the sun dipping lower and casting a golden glow over the road.
When they finally arrived at the lake, the sky had turned a deep shade of purple, the stars just starting to peek through the twilight. The water was calm, the surface reflecting the fading light in a way that made the whole scene feel almost surreal.
Logan parked the truck, grabbed the cooler, and the two of you made your way down to the shoreline, settling on a blanket he’d brought. He cracked open a couple of beers, and the two of you sat in silence for a moment, watching as the stars began to fill the sky.
“This is perfect,” you said softly, your eyes fixed on the sky above. “Thank you for this.”
Logan glanced at you, his chest tightening again. “I figured you needed a break,” he muttered. “We both do.”
You looked over at him, your smile soft. “Yeah. We do.”
***
The conversation flowed easily after that. The two of you talked about everything and nothing, the way you always did. You teased him about his gruffness, and he shot back with a sarcastic remark about your bad taste in movies. There was a lightness between you now, the tension from the past few weeks all but gone.
At some point, you pulled out one of the sandwiches Logan had bought, laughing at how he’d bought way more food than either of you could possibly eat.
“Logan,” you said between bites, “you realize this could feed a small army, right?”
He grunted, shrugging. “Didn’t want you to go hungry.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “Always so practical.”
As the night wore on, the stars grew brighter, and the conversation turned quieter, more intimate. You leaned back on the blanket, your head tilted toward the sky, while Logan leaned back on his elbows, watching you more than the stars.
“I love it out here,” you murmured, your voice soft. “It feels like everything just… stops. You know?”
Logan nodded. He knew exactly what you meant.
The quiet stretched between you, the air thick with something unspoken. Logan could feel the weight of it pressing down on him, that familiar feeling in his chest growing stronger. He wanted to kiss you—needed to—but he wasn’t sure how to make that first move.
But then, you turned to him, your eyes meeting his, and there was a flicker of something there—something that told him he didn’t need to worry.
You shifted, leaning in closer, and Logan felt his heart start to race. Your lips were inches from his, your breath warm against his skin as you smiled softly.
“Logan,” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the quiet of the night. “When are you going to kiss me?”
Logan’s breath hitched in his throat. He didn’t say anything—he didn’t need to. Instead, he leaned in, closing the distance between you, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, slow kiss that made everything else disappear. The stars, the lake, the past—none of it mattered anymore.
The kiss deepened, your hand sliding up to rest against his cheek, and Logan responded in kind, his hands finding your waist, pulling you closer as the world around you faded into the background. It was soft at first, hesitant, but the more you kissed, the more the fire between you grew.
Logan could feel the heat rising between you, the tension that had been simmering for weeks finally boiling over. Your body pressed against his, your hands tangling in his hair as the kiss became more insistent, more urgent. And Logan didn’t pull away. He didn’t run.
When you finally pulled back, your lips swollen from the kiss, you looked at him, your eyes filled with a mixture of desire and something deeper.
“I usually wait until the third date,” you said, a teasing smile tugging at your lips, “but I’ve waited long enough.”
Logan’s breath caught in his throat as he stared at you, his mind racing. “You sure?”
You nodded, your smile softening. “I’m sure.”
Logan didn’t hesitate after that. He kissed you again, slower this time, more deliberate, his hands roaming over your body with a tenderness that surprised even him. And when the moment felt right, he stood, pulling you gently to your feet, his hand resting on the small of your back as he led you back to the truck.
The drive back to your place was quiet, but the tension between you was electric, the air thick with anticipation.
When Logan pulled up in front of your house, the night was still quiet, the stars twinkling overhead like a promise. He helped you out of the truck, his hand lingering on your waist as you walked to the front door.
You turned to him, your eyes searching his, and Logan could see the flicker of doubt, of nervousness, but it was quickly replaced by something else—something deeper.
“You coming in?” you asked, your voice soft but steady.
Logan didn’t answer with words. He just nodded, following you inside, knowing that whatever happened next, this was exactly where he was supposed to be.
And for the first time in a long time, Logan wasn’t afraid of what came next.
***
You and Logan moved swiftly through the shadows, hands unable to resist the pull of each other’s bodies. The moment you stepped into your room, everything else faded away. Your lips collided in a fiery kiss, the kind that left no room for hesitation. Logan’s calloused fingers cradled your face, his rough thumbs grazing the softness of your flushed cheeks, sparking a shiver that ran through you. You let out a breathy moan, silently urging him to explore further, to claim you in the way only he could.
Logan's touch was both urgent and reverent as he led you towards the bed, his lips tracing a heated path down the curve of your neck. Each kiss sent electric sparks racing down your spine, igniting your skin with anticipation. He gently guided you down onto the cool sheets, his broad frame hovering above you, an intoxicating mix of power and restraint. The weight of him, the solid, muscular planes of his chest pressing against your sensitive breasts, made you arch up instinctively, offering yourself to him—a silent, burning invitation that left him breathless.
His hands—those strong, capable hands—moved across your body with deliberate intent. He memorized every inch, tracing the dip of your waist, the soft curve of your hips, and the smooth expanse of your thighs. His fingers found the hem of the dress, tugging it upwards with a tantalizing slowness that made your breath catch in your throat. As he peeled away the fabric, revealing your lace-clad thighs, the world narrowed to just them. Your heart pounded as your desire mirrored the hunger in his gaze.
As Logan hovered over you once again, the air between you two seemed to thicken with anticipation. Your nerves fluttered, heart pounding in your chest, but now it was mixed with an undeniable heat, a pull you couldn’t resist. His eyes locked onto yours, his gaze dark and intense, and for a moment, it felt like the world had fallen away—leaving just you two in the stillness of the night.
He leaned down, brushing his lips once again against your neck, kissing it softly at first, but soon his mouth became more insistent, his tongue flicking against your skin as his hands roamed your body. Logan's touch was both gentle and commanding, tracing the lines of your curves with deliberate intent. His fingers grazed your hips, sliding up the smooth expanse of your stomach, sending shivers racing through you. You gasped softly, your body arching into his touch, as your mind warred between nervousness and a craving you couldn’t deny.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he growled softly, his breath hot against your skin as his lips continued their descent.
With slow, deliberate motions, Logan pulled your dress up, exposing you inch by inch until it was discarded somewhere on the floor. He took a moment to admire you completely, his gaze lingering on your bare skin, drinking in every curve and freckle. You felt exposed under his intense gaze, but Logan had a way of making you feel not just desired but worshiped.
The moment your lips met, everything else seemed to fade away, the world narrowing down to just the heat between you. Logan’s mouth was firm and insistent, but his kiss was careful at first, testing, coaxing you into the moment. His hand slid to the back of your neck, his rough fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss, pulling you closer. The sensation of his lips moving against your made your head spin, the warmth of his breath mixing with yours in a rhythm that quickly turned hungry.
Your heart raced as you pressed yourself against him, feeling the hard lines of his chest beneath your hands. The sharp contrast between his rugged strength and the softness of his touch sent a thrill through you, and any nervousness you had melted away under the heat of his attention. You opened your mouth to him, letting him in, and his tongue slipped past your lips, exploring you with deliberate slowness that made your body shiver.
Logan’s kisses were deep, demanding, but there was a tenderness behind them—a quiet intensity that made you feel like you was the only thing that mattered to him in that moment. His hands roamed your body, his fingers tracing the line of your waist, skimming over your hips and dipping to the small of your back, pulling you closer with every touch. It was as if he couldn’t get enough of you, like he was savoring every inch of your skin.
Your body responded instinctively to his touch, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath the fabric of his shirt. With a soft, breathless moan, you tugged at the buttons, wanting to feel him fully, skin against skin. Logan obliged, pulling away just long enough to shrug off his shirt, revealing the broad, scarred planes of his chest. Your breath caught at the sight of him, the sharp lines of muscle, the dark smattering of hair across his chest, and the scars that marked his skin—each one telling a story of battles fought and survived.
Your fingers traced the scars lightly, almost reverently, and Logan let out a low growl of appreciation, his eyes darkening as he watched you. His hands moved to your waist, his knuckles grazing the soft skin of your thighs. The feel of his hands on your bare skin made your heart race, your breath quickening as the heat between you two flared even hotter.
Logan paused, his gaze once again sweeping over your body with an intensity that made you blush. His eyes lingered on your breasts this time, barely covered by the thin lace of your bra, and then trailed down to your hips, his hand brushing lightly over your thigh. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he repeated, his voice rough with need. His fingers slipped beneath the strap of your bra, pulling it down just enough to expose one breast to his hungry gaze. He leaned in, his lips brushing over the soft swell of your skin before his mouth closed over your nipple, his tongue flicking against the hardened peak.
You gasped, your back arching as a sharp jolt of pleasure shot through you. Logan’s hand slid behind you, unclasping your bra and tossing it aside, leaving you fully exposed to him. His mouth moved to your other breast, sucking gently, his tongue swirling around your nipple while his hands roamed your body, exploring every curve, every dip, as if he was trying to memorize you by touch alone.
Your breath came in shallow pants as his mouth continued its assault, alternating between soft kisses and sharp nips that sent sparks of pleasure through you. You felt his hands slide lower, tracing the line of your panties before tugging them down your legs. The cool air hit your bare skin, but it was quickly replaced by the heat of Logan’s touch as he spread your thighs apart, his fingers teasing your folds, exploring the wetness with a slow, deliberate rhythm that made your whole body tremble.
“Logan,” you moaned, your hips rising to meet his hand, your body desperate for more of him. But he was in no hurry, his fingers moving in lazy circles, dipping into you just enough to make you gasp, but never fully giving what you craved.
He grinned against your skin, clearly enjoying the way you were falling apart under his touch. “Patience, baby,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “I want to take my time with you.”
But Logan’s control was slipping, and you could feel it in the way his breath hitched, the way his fingers tightened on your hips as he fought to keep his composure. His kisses grew more heated, more frantic, as he worked his way back up your body, his mouth finding yours again in a kiss that was hot and desperate, full of need.
You could feel the hard length of him pressing against your thigh, straining against his boxers, and the thought of him—of all of him—made your head spin. Your hand moved down, fingers brushing over the bulge in his boxers, and Logan groaned into your mouth, his hips bucking slightly at the contact.
“Fuck, baby…” he rasped, his breath coming out in harsh, ragged pants as you rubbed him through the fabric, feeling the heat of him, the way his cock twitched in response to you touch. “You’re driving me fucking crazy.”
With a growl, Logan pulled back just long enough to shed the rest of his clothes, his eyes never leaving yours as he stood above you, fully exposed. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him, his cock hard and thick, jutting towards you with a dark flush at the tip.
And he was back on you. Logan’s kisses trailed lower, his lips moving from your neck to your collarbone, then down to the swell of your breasts. Each touch sent a new wave of heat through you, your body already humming with anticipation. He lingered there for a moment, his mouth closing over one hardened nipple, his tongue flicking across it as you gasped and arched into him. But it was clear from the way his hands gripped your hips, how his kisses continued to drift lower, that he had something else in mind.
Your breath caught in your throat as Logan shifted, his hands sliding down your sides, his lips now kissing a line along your stomach. The tension in the air thickened, and your heart pounded with both anticipation and nervous excitement. His hands reached your thighs, spreading them gently, and a flush of heat spread across your skin as you lay bare before him. You felt exposed—vulnerable in the most intimate way—but Logan’s gaze, dark and hungry, made you feel worshiped rather than nervous.
“You’re just perfect,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire, his breath warm against your inner thigh. The words melted your last bit of hesitation, and your body relaxed under his touch, opening up to him.
Logan’s mouth hovered just over your center, his breath teasing your already slick folds, but he didn’t dive in right away. Instead, his lips brushed the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, sending shivers up your spine, as he kissed his way closer. He was slow, deliberate, savoring every moment, every touch, as if he wanted to make sure you felt everything.
Then, without warning, his tongue flicked out, parting your folds and brushing against your clit with a gentle, teasing stroke. You gasped, your hips jolting up at the sudden jolt of pleasure, your fingers gripping the sheets tightly. Logan’s hands slid beneath you, holding you hips in place, his grip firm yet gentle, and he let out a low, appreciative growl.
“You taste so fucking good,” he rasped, his voice thick with lust, and the sound of it made your body pulse with need.
He dove back in, his tongue flicking over your clit again, this time with more pressure, more intent. The sensation was electric, pleasure shooting through you with every stroke. Logan’s mouth worked you over slowly at first, his tongue swirling around your clit, teasing with light, maddening flicks that had your hips lifting toward him, silently begging for more. He knew exactly how to make you squirm, how to drive you wild with the simplest of touches.
You moaned softly, your head falling back against the pillow as your body arched, your breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. The pleasure was building, a slow, steady burn deep in your core, and Logan seemed determined to make it last. His tongue slid lower, dipping between your folds, tasting you, before returning to your clit, sucking gently. Every move he made was deliberate, calculated to push you closer to the edge without ever letting you tip over.
“Logan…,” you whimpered, your voice trembling with need. Your hips bucked again, seeking more, and Logan let out another low groan as he tightened his grip on your thighs, holding them still.
“Patience, babygirl,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a mix of command and amusement. But there was a hunger in his tone too, a barely restrained urgency that matched the fire burning inside you.
His tongue pressed harder now, flicking and circling your clit in a rhythm that had you gasping and trembling beneath him. Every stroke of his tongue sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, your body responding to him in ways you couldn’t control. Your hands flew to his hair, fingers tangling in the strands as you held him close, unable to stop the desperate little sounds spilling from your lips.
“Please, Logan…” you gasped, voice barely more than a breath. You were so close now, the tension inside you coiling tighter and tighter with every flick of his tongue, every teasing suck. You could feel the edge coming, but you needed more—needed him to push you over.
Logan’s response was a deep, throaty growl that sent vibrations straight through your core. His tongue moved faster, his mouth working you with an intensity that had your whole body trembling. His lips closed over your clit, sucking hard now, while his fingers slipped down to your entrance, sliding inside you with ease, filling you with a deep, deliberate rhythm that matched the movements of his tongue.
“Oh God… Logan…!” you cried, your voice breaking as your body arched off the bed. The pleasure hit you like a tidal wave, crashing over in powerful, uncontrollable waves. Your orgasm tore through, your muscles clenching as your entire body trembled, your pussy pulsing around his fingers as he continued to work you through it.
Logan didn’t stop, didn’t let up, his mouth still sucking gently at your clit, his fingers still buried deep inside you, coaxing every last bit of pleasure from your trembling body. He groaned against you, clearly enjoying the way you came undone beneath him, the way your body responded to his touch.
Your vision blurred, your breath coming out in sharp, uneven gasps as the pleasure finally began to ebb, leaving you limp and trembling beneath him. Your hands slipped from his hair, falling to the bed as your body went slack, utterly spent.
Logan kissed his way back up your body, his lips trailing along your stomach, breasts, before finally reaching your mouth again. His kiss was soft this time, gentle, as if to soothe the lingering aftershocks of your release. You melted into him, your hands finding his shoulders, holding him close as you tried to catch your breath.
“You okay, baby?” he murmured against your lips, his hand brushing the hair from your face as he looked down at you, his eyes full of concern despite the heat still simmering between them.
You nodded, a small, blissful smile curving your lips as you gazed up at him. “More than okay,” you whispered, voice breathless but full of affection. Logan’s touch, his attention—everything about him—had left you feeling cherished, worshiped, and utterly satisfied.
You wanted to do the same for him, but you didn’t know how. When Logan sat down, he could feel the nervousness from you.
Your heart raced as you sat on the bed, your eyes fixed on Logan, who sat shirtless in front of you, his broad, muscled chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. The room felt impossibly warm, and though you had been teasing and playful all night, nerves twisted in your stomach. You wanted to please him, wanted to make him feel as good as he always made you feel, but there was one thing you hadn’t done before.
Logan’s eyes were dark with desire, his lips curved into a small, amused smile as he watched you. “What is it, Princess?” he asked, his voice a deep rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You look nervous.”
You bit your lip, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks as you looked up at him, your voice coming out quieter than intended. “I… I’ve never… done that before.” You hesitated, glancing down at his hard and ready to go cock. “You know… going down on someone.”
Logan’s smile softened, and he crouched down in front of you, taking your hand in his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for, babygirl,” he said, his voice gentle but thick with heat. “It’s all up to you.”
You shook your head, determination sparking in your eyes despite the butterflies in your stomach. “I want to… I want to make you feel good. I just… I want you to show me. Teach me how.”
Logan’s eyes darkened even further at your words, a low growl rumbling from deep in his chest. “Fuck, sweetgirl,” he muttered, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lip. “You have no idea how much I want that. And I’ll guide you through every second, baby, if that’s what you want.”
You nodded, heart racing as you leaned into his touch, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. Logan stood up.Your eyes widened slightly as you looked up at him. He was big—thick, hard, and veined—and the thought of taking him into your mouth sent a thrill of nervous energy through you.
Logan moved closer, standing just in front of you as you sat on the edge of the bed. He stroked your cheek softly, his voice low and patient. “Just go slow, okay? Start by touching me. See what feels good for you.”
You nodded, your hand trembling slightly as you reached up, fingers wrapping around his cock for the first time. He was warm and firm, and the way he twitched in your hand made your heart race even faster. Logan let out a low groan as your fingers began to move along his length, stroking him slowly, your grip light at first, unsure but eager to learn.
“That’s good, baby,” Logan rasped, his voice thick with desire. “Just like that. Nice and slow.”
Your confidence grew a little with his encouragement, and you tightened the grip slightly, your strokes becoming more deliberate. Logan’s breath hitched, and his hand found the back of your neck, not pushing you but resting there, his fingers gently massaging the base of your skull.
You glanced up at him, eyes searching for guidance. “Is this okay?”
Logan’s dark gaze met yours, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “It’s more than okay,” he murmured, his thumb brushing your lower lip again. “You’re doing great. Now, if you’re ready… use your mouth. Just take your time.”
Your heart pounded in your chest as you leaned forward, lips parting slightly as you pressed a soft kiss to the tip of his cock. Logan groaned, his grip on your neck tightening just a little, and the sound sent a jolt of excitement through you. You could taste the salty bead of pre-cum on your lips as you kissed him again, this time allowing your tongue to flick out and swirl gently around the head.
Logan hissed softly, his head tilting back as his hand flexed against your neck. “Fuck, princess… that feels good.”
Emboldened by his reaction, you opened your mouth wider, taking the head of his cock between your lips. You sucked lightly, tongue swirling around the tip as you moved your hand along his length, stroking what you couldn’t yet fit in your mouth. Logan’s low groan spurred you on, and you took him deeper, lips wrapping around him as your tongue continued to explore.
“Just like that, baby,” Logan rasped, his voice strained as his hips twitched forward, though he held back, letting you set the pace. “Use your hand to stroke the rest, yeah? Keep going slow, and just… fuck, that feels so good.”
You did as he said, your hand working in time with your mouth as you moved up and down his length, taking him a little deeper with each bob of your head. Your nervousness started to fade as you focused on his reactions—the way his muscles tensed, the way his breath came out in short, ragged gasps, the way he groaned your name when you did something right.
You could feel him pulsing in your mouth, thick and heavy, and the way his cock twitched as your tongue swirled around the underside of the head made your thighs clench. Logan’s fingers tightened in your hair, but he was still careful, still letting you lead.
“God, sweetheart… you’re fucking amazing,” he groaned, his voice rough with pleasure. “Try taking me a little deeper now. If it’s too much, just pull back.”
You nodded slightly, your lips still wrapped around him, and took a deep breath as you pushed yourself further down his length, feeling the stretch of him against your tongue. He was big, but you wanted to take as much of him as you could. You relaxed your throat, letting him slip deeper, until you could feel him at the back of your throat.
Logan groaned louder, his hips twitching forward just slightly, but he pulled back immediately, not wanting to overwhelm you. “That���s it, baby,” he muttered, his voice tight with restraint. “You’re doing so fucking good.”
You bobbed your head slowly, sucking him in deeper with each movement, your hand stroking the base of his cock while your tongue worked the sensitive underside. The sound of Logan’s pleasure, the low groans and ragged breaths, spurred you on, and you began to pick up the pace, your confidence growing with every reaction you pulled from him.
“Fuck, baby… I’m not gonna last long if you keep doing that,” Logan rasped, his voice tight as his fingers tangled more firmly in your hair. “You’re driving me fucking crazy.”
You hummed around him, the vibration making him curse under his breath as you took him even deeper, your lips stretching around his thick length. You felt a surge of pride at how you were making him fall apart, and the way his hips started to twitch forward with every stroke only encouraged you.
Logan’s breathing turned ragged, his hand tightening in your hair as he fought to keep control. “Shit, baby, I’m close… you want me to come in your mouth?”
You paused, your lips still wrapped around him, and looked up at him through your lashes, nodding slightly as best as you could. The look in his eyes darkened even further, and his grip on you tightened as he thrust gently into your mouth, his movements careful but desperate.
“Good girl,” he groaned, his voice thick with pleasure. “Just like that… fuck, I’m gonna come.”
His words sent a thrill through you, and you worked him faster, hand stroking his length while your mouth sucked him in deeper, your tongue flicking against him with each bob of your head. Logan’s whole body tensed, his muscles going taut as he groaned your name, and with one final thrust, he came hard, spilling into your mouth.
You felt the hot rush of his release, his cock pulsing against your tongue as he filled her mouth. You swallowed as much as you could, his taste salty and thick, and you kept stroking him gently, milking every last drop from him as he trembled above you.
When it was over, Logan pulled back slowly, his chest heaving as he looked down at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of awe and satisfaction. He reached down, pulling you up to your feet and kissing you deeply, his hand cupping your face as his lips lingered on yours.
“God, Princess,” he whispered against your mouth, his voice still breathless. “You’re fucking perfect.”
You smiled, cheeks flushed but your heart full of warmth. You had wanted to make him feel good, and the look in his eyes told you you had done more than that.
***
You didn’t know when you had fallen asleep, a warm haze of emotions and aftershocks from the night still lingering in your body. Apparently, that's what a mix of raw passion and orgasms can do to a person. As you started to stretch, a familiar touch stopped you — Logan's hand was resting possessively on your thigh.
“You’re awake finally,” his voice, deep and husky from sleep, sent a delicious shiver down your spine. It was the kind of voice that could melt you with just a word. He pressed a soft kiss to your bare shoulder, his breath warm against your skin. That sound alone made heat bloom low in your belly, reminding you of just how powerfully he affected you. You were still getting used to the intensity of it all, how he had this effortless way of making you feel like you could combust under his touch. It wasn’t just lust, but something deeper. The way his presence made you feel desired, seen.
His morning erection nudged against your ass as his mouth trailed down your shoulder, teasing the sensitive spot at your neck with soft bites. "Last night was incredible," you whispered, feeling the soft ache between your thighs from the passion you'd shared. His mouth found your ear, his teeth grazing the lobe, and a soft gasp escaped your lips.
You could feel the smile in his voice as he replied, “You were amazing.”
You blushed at his praise, remembering how vulnerable you'd felt when you told him last night about your nervousness. He had a way of making you feel safe, even in your most insecure moments. But here he was now, his hands tracing your curves, cupping your breasts with a mix of gentleness and hunger. His thumb grazed over your nipples, making your breath hitch. "You're the one to talk," you murmured, barely able to focus as his hands roamed over you.
He chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the way your body responded to him, as if it were made to fit against his. His thigh slid between your legs, pressing just right against your clit, making you gasp and instinctively roll your hips. "Relax, princess," he purred, the nickname sending a fresh wave of heat through you.
But as much as your body begged for more, a sudden urgency interrupted the moment. “I need to pee,” you said, almost breathlessly. You hated to stop him, but your body had its demands.
Logan let out a playful growl of frustration, making you giggle as he rolled onto his back. “That was mean,” he grumbled. You leaned over and kissed the tip of his nose, unable to hide your smile.
"I'll be quick. You go make coffee."
His hand gave your ass a playful swat as you slipped out of bed, both of you laughing softly, the easy intimacy of the morning wrapping around you like a warm blanket. Even as you headed for the bathroom, you felt his eyes on you, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before his hands were back on your body.
***
And you were right. The coffee was nice, though Logan couldn’t help but tease, mentioning it would have tasted even better if you’d made it yourself. You smiled at his playful jab, both of you leaning into the easy conversation about the day ahead. You mentioned wanting to hit the pool on your day off, but Logan’s eyes narrowed playfully, letting you know he preferred the gym instead. You nearly made a joke about him being like a cat avoiding water, but you bit your tongue, enjoying the teasing exchange.
As you gathered the coffee mugs, the moment felt light and perfect. "What do you want for breakfast?" you asked over your shoulder. "I could make French toast if you'd—"
Before you could finish, you felt Logan’s strong hands slide onto your hips, pulling you gently back into him. His touch was warm, sending a shiver down your spine, and you gasped softly as his lips found your neck, trailing slow, lingering kisses along the sensitive skin. His breath was hot, and the deliberate, sensual way he kissed you had your pulse quickening in an instant.
“How about we take a shower first?” he suggested, his voice husky, each word laced with promise.
You smiled, leaning back into him, your body already reacting to his touch. "Somehow, I don’t think a shower is all you're thinking about, Logan," you teased, though your voice was softer now, betraying the way his closeness made your thoughts scatter.
He chuckled low, the sound rumbling through you as he turned you around to face him. His eyes were dark with desire, and before you could say another word, he kissed you, hard and full of need. His lips claimed yours in a way that made you melt against him, and as his tongue slipped into your mouth, teasing and tasting, a soft moan escaped you. His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you closer, pressing your body against his as the kiss deepened.
“We’ll shower…” he whispered, breaking the kiss just enough to press his lips to yours again, a series of quick, heated pecks that left you breathless. “Eventually.”
Before you could react, Logan’s arms wrapped around you, lifting you off the floor with ease and tossing you playfully over his shoulder. You squealed in surprise, laughing as he carried you effortlessly toward the bathroom.
“Logan!” you giggled, your voice a mix of surprise and excitement, heart racing as he walked with purpose.
“I’m going to take my time with you, princess,” he said, his voice low, teasing, and filled with all kinds of promises as he stepped into the bathroom. “I’ll wash every inch of you—thoroughly.”
The way he said it made heat bloom inside you, and as he set you down, you could feel his gaze trailing over your body, lingering with unspoken desire.
***
The steam in the bathroom thickened, swirling around you both as Logan's hands slid over your waist, guiding you gently back under the warm spray of the shower. Water cascaded down your skin, adding to the heat building between you, his fingers tracing delicate patterns on your wet body. The room was filled with a mix of heat and the soft sounds of the water splashing, but it was his gaze that held you captive — intense, filled with hunger and something deeper that made your heart race.
His lips found yours again, softer this time, as though savoring the taste, but the kiss quickly deepened, his hands moving up to cup your face. Your body responded instinctively, leaning into him as the warmth from the water mingled with the growing heat between you. His hands were everywhere — sliding down your back, pulling you closer until your bodies pressed together, the water making every touch more electric, more intimate.
The sensation of his skin against yours, the slick, wet heat between you, sent shivers down your spine. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss intensified, becoming more urgent, more needy. Logan’s hands slipped lower, resting on your hips, and he lifted you effortlessly, pinning you gently against the cool tile of the shower wall. The contrast of the heat from his body and the coolness of the tiles behind you made you gasp softly, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively.
He paused for a moment, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing heavy as he gazed into your eyes. There was something raw in that look, an unspoken desire, as if he was making sure you were fully with him at that moment. You nodded slightly, your hands running through his damp hair, urging him on, and that was all the encouragement he needed.
Logan’s lips trailed down your neck, hot and wet from the shower, and you couldn’t hold back the soft moan that escaped as his mouth found your collarbone, biting gently before soothing the skin with soft kisses. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you firmly in place, every touch deliberate, every kiss igniting a deeper sense of longing.
The rhythm between you was slow, teasing, as though he was taking his time exploring every inch of you, memorizing the way your body responded to him. The water poured over you both, heightening every sensation, and you could feel the tension building, the anticipation thick in the air.
“Logan…” you whispered, breathless, your voice barely above the sound of the shower. He responded with another deep kiss, his hands sliding down your back, holding you even closer, making it impossible to tell where his body ended and yours began. Each movement was fluid, natural, as if you were both made for this — for each other.
His lips returned to your neck, trailing fire down your skin, and the combination of the heat from the water and his touch had you lost in the moment. Every kiss, every touch, every whispered word between you was a promise, a building of tension that pulled you both deeper into the connection you shared.
He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his breath ragged. “I’ve wanted this for so long…” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.
You smiled softly, feeling the same way, your fingers brushing across his jawline as you leaned in for another kiss, softer this time, full of the unspoken feelings between you. The moment wasn’t just about the physical connection — it was something deeper, something that lingered in the way his touch made you feel cherished and wanted.
The shower continued to rain down around you, but in that moment, all you felt was him — the warmth of his body, the tenderness of his hands, and the growing intensity of your shared desire.
“God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your ear, his voice low and thick with lust. His fingers trailed down your stomach, his touch teasing, deliberate, as he spread your legs with one of his own, positioning you just how he wanted. His rough hand slipped between your thighs, fingers sliding through your slick folds, and the instant he found your clit, your whole body jolted at the sharp, sudden pleasure.
A soft moan escaped your lips as Logan’s fingers started to work you, circling your clit with slow, firm strokes that had your hips rocking against his hand instinctively. The warmth of the water mixed with the heat radiating off his body, but it was nothing compared to the growing fire in your core as Logan’s touch sent sparks of pleasure shooting through you.
His other hand gripped your waist, holding you steady as his fingers moved faster, pressing harder against your clit in a way that made your legs tremble. His lips were back at your neck, kissing you, his teeth grazing your skin, sending shivers down your spine.
“I’ve barely touched you, and you’re already so fucking wet for me,” Logan growled, his voice dark and filled with satisfaction as he teased you, his fingers slipping lower, finding your entrance and pushing inside you. His fingers curled deep, hitting that perfect spot that made your breath hitch, and your body tensed, the pressure inside you building rapidly.
“Logan…” you gasped, your hands bracing against the tile as you leaned into him, your hips grinding against his hand, desperate for more of the pleasure he was giving you. His touch was skilled, practiced, every movement pushing you closer to the edge, but he kept control, taking his time, making you feel every single stroke.
“You’re gonna come for me, baby,” he whispered, his voice hot against your ear, his fingers working faster now, his thumb brushing over your clit in perfect rhythm with his thrusts. “I want to feel you come all over my hand.”
Your breath came out in ragged pants, your body trembling as the tension inside you coiled tighter and tighter, ready to snap. Logan’s fingers pressed harder, his pace relentless, and you could feel the orgasm building fast, the pleasure overwhelming as he drove you closer to the brink.
“Come for me,” Logan growled, his voice rough and commanding as his thumb circled your clit one last time, his fingers curling deep inside you. “Now.”
That was all it took. Your body tensed as the orgasm ripped through you, sharp and intense, your pussy clenching tight around his fingers as the pleasure exploded inside you. You cried out his name, your legs shaking as your body trembled under the force of your release, every wave crashing over you harder than the last.
Logan groaned low in his throat as he felt you come, his hand never stopping, his fingers stroking you through every last tremor of your orgasm. “Good girl,” he muttered, his voice thick with pride as he held you steady, his body pressed tight against yours. “That’s it, baby… just like that.”
When the last waves of your orgasm finally ebbed, you slumped back against him, breathless and trembling. But Logan wasn’t done with you yet. His lips brushed against your ear, sending another shiver through you as his fingers slipped from between your legs.
“Turn around,” he commanded softly, and you did, your legs still weak from your release, but your body aching for more of him.
Logan knelt in front of you, the water pouring over his broad, muscled shoulders as he looked up at you with dark, hungry eyes. “I want to taste you,” he growled, his hands gripping your thighs as he spread them apart. “And I’m going to make you come again.”
Your heart raced as he pressed his mouth against your already sensitive core, his tongue flicking over your clit with quick, teasing strokes that made you gasp and grab his shoulders for support. The pleasure hit you instantly, the aftershocks of your first orgasm still rippling through your body as Logan licked and sucked at your clit with a precision that left you trembling.
“Logan… oh my God…” you whimpered, your fingers tangling in his wet hair as you rocked your hips against his mouth, already feeling the heat building inside you all over again. His hands gripped your thighs tighter, holding you in place as he devoured you, his tongue swirling around your clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you with every movement.
He groaned against you, the vibration making your legs shake as he worked you over, his tongue relentless, his mouth hot and wet as the pleasure built faster this time, more intense. Your body was still buzzing from the first orgasm, your nerves already raw, and Logan seemed determined to push you even further.
“You taste so fucking good,” he rasped against your core, his voice low and rough as he dove back in, his tongue flicking over your clit in a rhythm that had you gasping for breath, the edge of another orgasm already within reach. “I want you to come in my mouth, baby. I want to feel you fall apart again.”
His words sent a fresh wave of heat through you, and you could feel the tension coiling tight in your core, your body on the verge of breaking as Logan’s tongue worked you faster, harder. The pleasure was overwhelming, your hips bucking against his face as you chased the release that was already so close.
“Logan… please…” you whimpered, your voice trembling as the orgasm built inside you like a storm, the pressure too much, too intense. But Logan wasn’t letting up, his mouth relentless, his grip on your thighs bruising as he growled against your clit.
“Come for me,” he commanded, his voice dark and rough as his tongue flicked over your clit one last time, pushing you over the edge.
You shattered. The orgasm tore through you, harder than the first, your whole body trembling as the pleasure ripped you apart. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, your legs shaking as you cried out his name, your pussy pulsing with every wave of your release.
Logan groaned into you, his mouth still moving, drawing out every last tremor of your orgasm until you were completely spent, your body weak and trembling from the intensity of it. When he finally pulled back, his lips glistening, he looked up at you with a satisfied grin.
“You’re fucking perfect,” he growled, standing up slowly, his hands sliding up your body as he pulled you against him.
You could feel the hard length of him pressing against your stomach, his cock thick and pulsing with need. But Logan wasn’t in a rush. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a deep, slow kiss, his hands roaming your body as the water poured over both of you.
“I’m going to fuck you now,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and rough with desire. “But I’m not going to come until you do again. I want to feel you come around my cock.”
Your heart raced at his words, your body already aching for him, desperate for him to fill you. “Please, Logan,” you gasped, your nails digging into his back as you rocked your hips against him. “I need you inside me.”
Logan groaned, lifting you effortlessly as he positioned himself at your entrance. The tip of his cock brushed against your slick folds, teasing you for a moment before he thrust inside, filling you completely with one slow, deliberate movement.
The sudden fullness made you gasp, your back arching against the tiles as Logan buried himself deep inside you, stretching you in a way that made your body tremble all over again. He didn’t move at first, just held you there, his forehead resting against yours as he groaned low in his throat.
“Fuck, you feel so tight,” he growled, his breath hot against your lips as he began to move, his hips rolling in slow, deep thrusts that made you moan.
He set a slow, deliberate pace, each thrust deep and powerful, his cock dragging against your inner walls in a way that made you feel every inch of him. The pleasure built quickly, your body still sensitive from your previous orgasms, and you could feel yourself teetering on the edge again as Logan’s thrusts grew harder, more desperate.
“You feel so fucking good,” he groaned, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he drove into you, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you with every stroke. “I’m not going to last much longer, baby… but I want you to come first. I need to feel you come around my cock before I fill you up.”
His words sent a jolt of heat through you, your body responding instantly to the idea of him coming inside you, of him filling you completely. The tension inside you coiled tighter, the pressure building fast as Logan fucked you harder, his breath ragged as he chased his own release.
“Logan…” you gasped, your fingers gripping his shoulders as the pleasure built inside you, your whole body trembling as the edge came rushing toward you. “I’m so close…”
"Come for me," Logan growled, his voice rough with need as his thrusts became more frantic, his cock driving into you harder and deeper with every stroke. "I want to feel you fall apart around me, baby. Then I’ll fill you up.”
His words sent you spiraling, the intensity of his movements pushing you closer to the edge with every thrust. The way he filled you so completely, the way his cock dragged against every sensitive spot inside you, left you gasping for breath, your nails digging into his shoulders as you clung to him.
“Logan… oh God, I’m gonna come,” you whimpered, your voice shaking as your body tensed, the orgasm building inside you like a tidal wave ready to break.
“That’s it,” he growled, his grip on your hips tightening as his pace quickened, his control slipping as he drove into you harder, faster. “Come for me, baby. I need to feel it.”
And then it hit you. The orgasm crashed through you like a storm, your body convulsing around him as the pleasure tore through you, your pussy clenching tight around his cock. Your head fell back against the tiles, a broken moan escaping your lips as you cried out his name, your whole body trembling violently with the force of your release.
Logan groaned deeply, his movements faltering for a moment as he felt you come around him, your pussy pulsing and squeezing his cock with every wave of your orgasm. “Fuck, that’s it,” he growled, his voice strained as he fought to hold on, his hips still thrusting into you, prolonging your pleasure.
He didn’t stop. Even as your body trembled with aftershocks, Logan kept going, his pace relentless as he chased his own release. His breath came out in ragged gasps, his forehead pressed against yours as he groaned, “I’m gonna come… I need to fill you up.”
His words, dark and laced with raw need, sent a fresh wave of heat through you. The thought of him coming inside you, of being filled completely, made your body pulse all over again, your hips instinctively bucking up against him.
“Please, Logan… I want it. I want you to come inside me,” you gasped, your voice thick with desire as you clung to him, your nails scraping down his back.
Logan groaned loudly, his thrusts turning erratic, desperate as he reached the edge. His grip on your hips tightened, his hands nearly bruising as he slammed into you one last time, burying himself as deep as he could go. With a low, guttural moan, he came hard, his cock pulsing inside you as he spilled into you, filling you with his hot release.
“Fuck… Princess…” he groaned, his body trembling against yours as he rode out his orgasm, his hips twitching as he pumped every last drop into you.
You could feel the heat of him, thick and warm as it filled you completely, the sensation sending a final shiver of pleasure through your body. Logan’s breathing was ragged, his forehead resting against yours as the last waves of his release washed over him. For a moment, the world was silent, the only sound was the steady rush of water and your uneven breaths as you both held each other, trembling in the aftermath.
Logan kissed you softly, his lips brushing against yours as his hands moved to cradle your face. “You’re fucking incredible,” he murmured, his voice rough but filled with a deep satisfaction.
You smiled against his lips, your heart still racing as you whispered, “So are you, Logan.”
His cock softened inside you, but neither of you moved, the warmth of the water and the heat of the moment wrapping around you both like a cocoon. Logan held you close, his forehead pressed to yours as he whispered, “I’m never getting enough of you.”
The water continued to pour down over both of you, your bodies still intertwined, but now the intensity of the moment had softened into something warm and intimate. Logan held you close, his chest pressed against yours, the heat of his breath mingling with the steam swirling around you. He smiled down at you, the look in his eyes softened by the tenderness that followed the passion you had shared.
“I did promise to wash every inch of you, didn’t I?” he murmured, his voice low and playful, but there was a gentle sincerity beneath it. His hands glided down your sides, steadying you as he reached for the bar of soap resting on the shelf nearby.
You smiled up at him, feeling the warmth of his touch as his soapy hands returned to your body. “I thought you forgot about that,” you teased, but your voice was soft, content.
Logan chuckled softly, his eyes dark but affectionate. “I never forget a promise,” he whispered, his lips brushing yours in a brief, tender kiss before he turned his attention to washing you, as he had promised.
With slow, deliberate movements, Logan’s hands traveled over your skin, spreading the lather of the soap along your shoulders, down your arms, and across your back. His touch was firm but soothing, almost reverent, as though he was savoring the simple act of caring for you. His fingers trailed down to your waist, his touch lingering as he washed your hips, his eyes occasionally flicking up to meet yours with a gentle smile.
His hands continued lower, gliding over your thighs, every movement patient, unhurried. He made sure to wash every inch of you, taking his time as the soap mixed with the water, rinsing away the remnants of the passion you had shared. It wasn’t just about getting clean—it was a moment of connection, of closeness, that lingered between you both.
“You’re perfect,” Logan whispered, his eyes tracing the lines of your body as he knelt slightly to wash your legs. His voice was soft, almost like he was speaking to himself, but the words sent warmth blooming in your chest.
When he finished, he pulled you close again, his lips brushing your temple as the water poured over both of you. “Your turn,” he murmured, handing you the bar of soap.
With a smile, you took it, running the lather between your hands as you began to return the favor. You started at his broad shoulders, your hands gliding over his firm muscles as the soap spread across his skin. Logan let out a soft sigh of contentment, his eyes closing as he leaned into your touch, his body relaxing beneath your hands.
Your fingers trailed down his chest, tracing the scars that marked his skin, feeling the strength beneath your touch. Logan opened his eyes briefly, catching your gaze, a small smile tugging at his lips as you moved your hands lower, over his abdomen, down his hips. You took your time, washing him just as thoroughly as he had done for you, the intimacy of the moment deepening as you cared for each other.
When you were done, Logan cupped your face in his hands, leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice rough but full of affection.
You smiled against his lips, your arms wrapping around his neck as you kissed him back, the warmth of the water and the closeness of his body making you feel safe, cherished.
As the last of the soap washed away, Logan turned off the water, the sound of the shower replaced by the quiet hum of the world outside. He grabbed a towel and gently wrapped it around your shoulders, pulling you close to him as he dried you off, his hands moving slowly, almost reverently.
Once you were dry, he toweled off himself quickly before pulling you into his arms again, his chest warm against your skin as he kissed the top of your head. “Let’s get out of here before we shrivel up,” he teased lightly, his voice still soft, but there was a playful glint in his eyes.
With a smile, you let him lead you out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom, where the warmth and comfort of the soft sheets awaited you. Logan pulled you down onto the bed with him, his arms wrapping around you as he drew you close, holding you against his chest.
“You’re something else, sweetheart,” he murmured softly, his lips brushing your forehead as you snuggled into him, your body relaxing completely in his arms.
You smiled, feeling completely at peace as you whispered, “This was the best date I have ever been on, Logan.”
“Good,” he whispered back, his hand gently stroking your hair as you both settled into the quiet comfort of the moment. Wrapped in each other’s arms, the intensity of the night faded into a deep sense of contentment, leaving only the warmth of the connection you shared as you drifted off together, completely at ease in each other’s presence.
#logan howlett#logan x reader#logan smut#logan howlett angst#logan howlett smut#logan wolverine#wolverine#wolverine x reader#wolverine angst#wolverine smut#hugh jackman wolverine#hugh jackman#smut#angst#deadpool and wolverine#worst wolverine#deadpool 3
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The Knuckles show
The announcement of a live action Knuckles streaming miniseries was surprising, to say the least. I mean, what would such a show even be about in a version of the Sonic universe with no Angel Island and barely any characters from the games around? Is he gonna go treasure hunting with the gang from Montana or something? Would a streaming miniseries have the CGI budget to squeeze in any new game characters, even briefly? Rouge? Amy? At least one member of Team Chaotix? Anyone?
Now the show is finally out, and it turns out what they actually made was a comedy show about bumbling deputy sheriff Wade Whipple, the minor comic relief character played by Adam Pally who you might not even remember all that well from the first two movies, with Knuckles as his sidekick. While, yes, Knuckles does get a decent amount of screentime and opportunities to punch bad guys and do cool moves from the games, large stretches of this show focus on Wade's personal life, to the point that a couple times I almost forgot I was watching a Sonic-related show. If you're judging it purely by the metric of how well it adapts and engages with its source material, this surely must be one of the worst adaptations the Sonic franchise has ever seen.
So then, despite some huge complaints... why do I kinda like it?
(This will contain full spoilers for the Knuckles show.)
A brief summary of what the show is actually about because I know half of you aren't going to watch it
The show picks up not too long after the end of the second movie. Knuckles is now living in Montana with Sonic, Tails, and the Wachowskis out of a sense of debt to them, though he doesn't really see it as his home. He doesn't feel like he belongs on Earth, and his life currently lacks direction. After communing with the ghost of Pachacamac, though, Knuckles is instructed to keep his culture alive by teaching "the ways of the echidna warrior" to a new apprentice: deputy sheriff Wade Whipple, who's currently more concerned about winning a bowling tournament in Reno than anything else.
Things are complicated by the interference of two rogue GUN agents - Agent Willoughby, played by Ellie Taylor in a bad wig, and Agent Mason, played by Kid Cudi. (Yes, the artist behind the second movie's credits song is one of the bad guys in this.) They want to steal Knuckles' power and sell it to a former associate of Robotnik's played by Rory McCann (The Hound from Game of Thrones), who now works as a black market arms dealer. Yes, they're still doing the thing where Sonic and friends' quills radiate some kind of super-energy that the bad guys all want. No, I don't particularly love this element of the Paramount Sonic continuity. Anyway, they go after Knuckles and Wade, complicating their straightforward road trip to Reno. Antics ensue.
The Wade show
So here's the thing. While the first episode focuses largely on Knuckles, the entire rest of the show is very much the story of Wade, and by extension the other original human characters invented for this miniseries.
Episode 2 is about Wade having to rescue Knuckles from captivity after the GUN agents get him. Knuckles spends most of the episode in a cage.
Episode 3 is about introducing Wade's Jewish family, including his slightly overbearing mother and weird sister, so that Knuckles can learn about their family traditions and have Shabbat dinner with them (and then save them from bounty hunters that the GUN agents hired).
Episode 4 only features Knuckles at the very beginning and very end of the episode, probably for less than a minute total. Wade is captured by a bounty hunter he personally knows, and Knuckles decides to let that be a trial for Wade to overcome on his own.
The last two episodes feature the climactic showdowns with the GUN agents and their arms-dealing ally, who comes in with a mech for the obligatory final boss fight. You'd think this would be Knuckles' time to shine, but really, these episodes are mostly about the bowling tournament in Reno where Wade encounters his estranged father, wrapping up his own personal arc. While Knuckles does get some fights, a lot of the finale is spent on lengthy bowling scenes where Knuckles isn't in the room or even mentioned. It frequently feels more like a spiritual successor to '00s sports comedy movies like Dodgeball, Talladega Nights, or Blades of Glory than it does a part of the Sonic franchise, and the presence of ESPN 8: The Ocho commentary in the finale only drives those Dodgeball comparisons home. They get so immersed in the bowling stuff that it's genuinely hilarious when the show suddenly pivots and remembers "oh shit we still need to do the final boss fight"
Throughout all this, Wade is the protagonist. He's the character we spend more time with, he's the character who drives most of the major events, he's the character who gets more of an arc. The emotional core is Wade's journey. Knuckles is still present - sometimes, at least - but he's there as Wade's wingman, and also just as the excuse for there to be some fight scenes.
How much Sonic stuff is actually in this show?
Honestly? Not much.
Sonic and Tails are only in the first episode. Sonic gets some good scenes, but Tails gets a grand total of five lines. I counted. Unsurprisingly, Jim Carrey is absent as Robotnik, though he does get mentioned a fair bit. (For that matter, basically the entire established human cast beyond Wade is absent, even including Tom, though Maddie is there in episode one.)
GUN is involved in the story, which helps it feel slightly more connected to Sonic, but it kind of feels like it's GUN in name only. They don't use any recognizable GUN tech, and they don't call in the military. It's just two agents in suits. They might as well be the Men in Black.
The Master Emerald is mentioned as something Knuckles has to guard, but it's never seen. Angel Island is pictured as a drawing during the show's intro, appearing exactly how it does in Sonic 3, but it's never referenced at all beyond that.
I guess the climax taking place in and around a Reno casino is a reference to Sonic's many casino-themed levels. That's something. I'll give them that.
Oh, and if you're wondering if this is the point where we finally start to get actual music from the games: no, it's not. The soundtrack consists of a lot of '80s needle drops, many of which are generic Hollywood picks like "Holding Out for a Hero" for the billionth time, thought it at least has some slightly less obvious picks than the Mario movie. The theme song is '80s rock song "The Warrior" by Scandal. You'll hear it many times. You'll hear the Adventure era Knuckles raps zero times in this. You'll briefly hear classic A Tribe Called Quest song "Can I Kick It?" before Knuckles takes the question too literally and breaks the radio in Wade's car.
Beyond a handful of surface level references for nerds (one of which is admittedly wild - we'll get to that), this is probably the least an officially licensed adaptation of Sonic the Hedgehog has ever tried to actually engage with its source material. I struggle to think of another Sonic adaptation that has less to do with Sonic. For as much shit as I and countless others have given Penders for seemingly ignoring the content of the games in favor of building his own convoluted mythos, his Knuckles comics honestly included way more elements from the games than this show does.
Somehow, the one new(-ish) Sonic character introduced in this is the ghost of Pachacamac of all characters. Not even Tikal! Pachacamac! A very minor character nobody has particularly strong feelings about! You can't even use the excuse that they already had the character model, because they completely redesigned him compared to his cameo in the first movie to better match his Sonic Adventure design. And he's voiced by Christopher Lloyd! Honestly, so many of his lines are strained that it sounds like he's on death's door here, but then he'll surprise you with a more casual line like "just do it, man" and it catches me so off guard that I can't help but laugh.
Pachacamac here has basically nothing to do with the game character he takes his name and appearance from. Where the game character was a cruel warlord who kicked off a 3000 year cycle of violence, Paramount Pachacamac is now just this chill old man who gives Knuckles (and later Wade) advice in two episodes of the show. Hell, he also feels completely disconnected from his established role in the movies, where he's literally the guy who shot Longclaw. The show will not grapple with this contradiction at all. He's just here to be a thing fans like me will recognize from the games. Again, if that's all they wanted, it's kind of baffling that they didn't just use Tikal.
I don't love Knuckles in this
But what about Knuckles himself? Well, he doesn't feel all that much like Knuckles to me. Ironically, he sometimes feels like one of the weaker elements in his own show.
Back when the second movie came out, I noted that Knuckles' characterization seemed to be pulling heavily from MCU Thor as a gallant warrior from an archaic alien culture who doesn't really understand modern day Earth stuff. That worked for me in that movie. It was just there for spice. Just a little extra flavor for the character in what was otherwise a very faithful adaptation of Knuckles' storyline in Sonic 3 & Knuckles. Without those familiar elements grounding him and with a much higher reliance on comedy, Idris Elba's Knuckles becomes a pretty one-note character in this.
In damn near every scene with Knuckles, he's going to say something about being a proud, honorable echidna warrior, or brag about his glorious feats of strength, or be confused about some Earth thing and call it sorcery, or act like every other character is also a member of some noble warrior clan. He still has his moments for sure, but this schtick kinda gets old fast, and it just doesn't feel like Knuckles to me. His entire character feels derived from the scene in the diner where Thor smashes the cup on the ground and goes "Another!" Sure, I can picture game Knuckles smashing a radio to turn it off and being a little too gung-ho about busting holes through walls. That's Knuckles behavior. But building a barbarian combat pit in the living room so the Wachowski family dog can fight the mailman? Nope. That's some other guy now. It really does just feel like them taking a broad character archetype from something popular that kinda sorta fits Knuckles and just running with that, rather than trying to actually adapt the character.
Oh, but don't worry, he wears the OVA hat for like two minutes! AND he loves grapes! See, Sonic nerds? We read the wiki! That's his favorite food! Grapes! This is gonna come up like five times!
Knuckles kind of gets an arc here, but not as much as Wade does. I think the stuff about him starting to feel at home on Earth thanks to Wade's mom and the way he connects with their Jewish family traditions is oddly sweet. This arc is kind of let down, though, by the fact that Knuckles' heritage is treated as a complete joke. He's a cartoonish pastiche of various historical warrior cultures stuck together in a blender and used mostly for comedic effect. When Pachacamac's ghost appears, he's reading a newspaper and bemoaning the fact that the Mets lost again. This is not the place for a serious examination of Knuckles' feelings on being the last of his kind.
This is far from the only time the show undercuts itself with its jokes and attempts at self-parody. In the first episode, for instance, Knuckles clashes with GUN Agent Mason and his tech-enhanced punches, leading to an extremely on-the-nose inversion of the "Do I look like I need your power?" scene showcased in the trailer for the second movie. Except this time, Agent Willoughby butts in and points out how stupid that line is in this new context, since they're literally trying to steal Knuckles' power. The fight can't just be cool, they have to get cute with it. A lot of stuff like that happens in this show.
Given all these complaints, the first two episodes left me thinking I'd be fairly negative on this show overall. This seemed like the version of the show from the fandom's collective nightmares, one that undoes all of the progress the movie series seemed to have been making towards faithfulness to the games. Like, just look at these cast posters. Is this what you want out of Sonic? Do these excite you?
But then, something strange happened. Over time, I just kind of let the jokes and shenanigans wash over me and basked in how fucking weird this show is.
And I started to actually enjoy it.
Look. The Wade & Knuckles Show was never going to be peak Sonic. But that sure as hell doesn't mean it can't be entertaining.
This show is so fucking goofy
Here's the thing.
The show is funny.
Unlike a lot of other people, I didn't hate all the wedding stuff in Hawaii in Sonic 2, because I thought a lot of it was funny, both in its actual jokes and in the ways in which they tied everything back to Sonic. Tom looking wistfully at some bodybuilders doing Top Gun shit and spraying each other with beer and being like "I wish Sonic had that" is weirdly funny. The twist that those muscle bros are all agents of the newly formed GUN, who orchestrated the wedding as an elaborate scheme to catch Sonic, is funny. Mr. Olive Garden becoming the fucking GUN Commander is VERY funny. Are any of these elements of my dream Sonic movie? No, of course not. But my dream Sonic movie was never gonna happen in live action.
The Knuckles show follows up on the comedy of the previous films by being probably the funniest live action Sonic release yet. Did every joke land for me? God no. There are some stinkers in there that made me roll my eyes. But enough of them landed that it worked out for me overall. A big part of this is the fact that they've got a good cast of actors and/or comedians here.
Adam Pally is funny as Wade, and I found myself liking him more and more as a character as the show went on. He becomes an oddly endearing loser, with some sweet moments in his personal arc that made me feel for the guy. I like Wade more than Tom now, thanks to this show. I will now be happier to see Wade in Sonic 3 than I would have been previously.
The supporting cast is frequently great, too, many of whom are playing completely cartoonish, over-the-top characters. They took a cue from how exaggerated Carrey's performance was as Robotnik and decided to just abandon all pretense that this is the real world. Stockard Channing as Wade's mom is funny, and carries some of the more sincere parts of the show. Cary Elwes as Wade's very British dad who abandoned him as a child to run off and be the world's most egotistical professional bowler is funny. Edi Patterson as Wade's sister Wanda is... well, she's kinda trying too hard, but she has her moments. The Mighty Boosh co-creator Julian Barratt(!!) as a scenery-chewing bounty hunter, who was also somehow Wade's former best friend and bowling partner, is VERY funny. I love this guy.
(Honestly, they should let more people who were on Garth Marenghi's Darkplace be in Sonic stuff. Where's Matt Berry)
This is kind of a stacked cast for a bunch of stupid side characters in a live action Knuckles show! And honestly, that just makes it funnier to me. Even when they're not funny, the fact that this exists makes it funny. They somehow convinced Paramount to give them a bunch of money to make a spiritual successor to Dodgeball about a schlubby guy who wants to beat his dad at a bowling tournament... except also Knuckles the fucking Echidna is there as his personal life coach. My life is richer for the fact that I can say that sentence. I think about all the little kids who are probably watching this show this weekend, going in expecting a show about Knuckles the Echidna and having to sit through extensive bowling scenes and lore about Wade's family, and sorry kids, but I just have to laugh. Wade isn't even on the poster! The poster is just a picture of Knuckles!! They punked those kids!!!
In a franchise where every single aspect is so carefully micromanaged these days, it feels truly special to get an adaptation this bonkers. It frequently appeals to the same part of me that enjoys the fact that there's an officially licensed Knuckles comic in which Charmy Bee's best friend (also a bee) dies of an accidental LSD overdose from a drug-laced chili dog. Or like, everything about the original 1993 Super Mario Bros. movie. Or the fact that they made seven direct-to-DVD sequels to Alpha and Omega, one of which is half a retread of the adventure from the first movie (with more annoying supporting characters in tow this time) and half a literal clip show of the first movie. The sheer absurdity of the fact that these things exist is charming to me. Except, with the Knuckles show, it has the added benefit of frequently being funny on purpose! This is why I'm not sure I'd call it "so bad it's good." Like, it's not amazing, but there were a lot of parts that I enjoyed in the exact way I was supposed to enjoy them.
Look. Here's a list of real lines of dialogue from the Sega-approved Knuckles the Echidna streaming show that they're billing as a pillar of the Paramount+ lineup, to drive this point home. Let these marinate for a minute:
"I only eat grapes, and Cool Ranch Doritos™."
"Annihilate this little girl, Wade. Crush her spirit. Humiliate her so badly her parents won't even look at her again." "Doesn't that seem like we're going a bit far?" "Not far enough."
"So is he Jewish?" "Half, I think."
"I had a friend who when he listened to Alien Ant Farm he could lift a Toyota Corolla over his head."
"I'm in dire financial straits. Due to my lawsuit against an unnamed rainforest-themed restaurant franchise, I don't have two pennies to my name."
"We're here in sunny Reno, Nevada, which is so close to Hell you can smell the sparks."
"You can't threaten me with your Jewish karate chops because I am a federal agent."
"I will say, regardless of how you feel about child abandonment - and I'm against it! - the deals at TJ Maxx can't be beat."
This is a Sonic show in which they got Paul Scheer and Rob Huebel to appear as ESPN 8: The Ocho commentators.
This is a show where Wade's mom insists upon pronouncing "Knuckles" with the throaty Hebrew "ch" sound, and declares that Knuckles is basically Jewish. Later, they watch Pretty Woman together while enjoying a nice slice of key lime pie. Knuckles comments: "I don't understand. This young streetwalker with a heart made of gold, why do the others treat her with such disdain? Is it so wrong to walk the streets?"
This is a show where the fourth episode is directed by one of the guys from The Lonely Island and features a hallucinatory low budget rock opera stage musical put on by the ghost of Pachacamac. It recounts Knuckles' life story, with Wade playing Knuckles and the "evil" Longclaw played by the bounty hunter guy who's played by the Mighty Boosh guy.
Look at this.
And also, Knuckles' singing voice is provided by Michael Bolton, which they proudly announce in the middle of the musical.
And also...
Also...???
IBLIS IS IN IT????????????
Yes, Iblis!
From Sonic '06!!
Knuckles is said to have looked for a mythical power called the "Flames of Disaster" to avenge his clan, which ended up being the power that was within him all along that lets him do fire punches yadda yadda yadda. As part of this, he apparently fought Iblis off-screen at some point, as conveyed with the giant singing papier-mâché Iblis in the musical.
...Then Iblis sings about hitting up Facebook Marketplace
How? How does any of this exist? Why reference '06 of all games? How did Iblis get into the live action Sonic movie universe before Amy and Metal Sonic? Why are they using Iblis and the term "Flames of Disaster" in such a goofy way that completely disregards their original context?
I don't know. I don't know how any of this happened. But I love it. We got a Knuckles miniseries in which Michael Bolton sings the phrase "the Flames of Disaster." The world is a beautiful place sometimes.
Some people will tell you to skip episode four. "Knuckles is barely even in it," they say. "It's dumb and pointless," they say. "They clearly just ran out of special effects budget," they say. These are people whose opinions you should disregard. The episode with the least Knuckles in it is somehow the most entertaining episode of the show. I would, in fact, go as far as to say that if you only decide to watch one episode of the Knuckles show to see what goofy bullshit they get up to, it should be this one.
I cannot be mad at this show. It's so dumb, but it completely owns the fact that it's a dumb and unnecessary spinoff. Inferiority is baked into its very DNA. It's very self-consciously redoing the premise of the first movie, but stupider. It's about The Other Cop from the movies, instead of the competent one. Instead of being into a "cooler" sport, his life revolves around professional bowling. Instead of going to Vegas, he goes to Reno. Even his tragic backstory that shaped his entire life sucks. He was abandoned by his pro bowler dad in a TJ Maxx. Not even a nicer department store. A fucking TJ Maxx. This whole show is a Dril tweet.
They put a ton of effort into making it dumb in an occasionally spectacular way. So much effort was put into that joke rock opera that fans will just write off as stupid filler. They put their whole pussies into it. This is not a poorly made show. This has better production values than half the shit made for Disney+. This was made with love. Maybe not as much love for the Sonic the Hedgehog series of video games as we'd like, but it's love nonetheless.
Maybe this show broke me and these are the ramblings of a madwoman. Maybe I'm just really nostalgic for the '90s and '00s comedy movies all the Wade stuff is modeled after. Maybe the Alan Wake fan in me just really loves it when a story pivots to a silly rock opera for no real reason. I won't discount any of these possibilities. This isn't high art. This isn't something I would recommend to anyone with zero interest in Sonic, and it also isn't going to sway Sonic fans who hate the Paramount universe. I really can't blame them for being bewildered by this show. But for a specific type of person, this is the absurd three-star Sonic-adjacent comedy miniseries of your dreams. It's a mid masterpiece.
Again, I just have to step back, realize the fact that this shouldn't exist, and smile. Sega's too afraid to do stupid bullshit with the franchise like this these days. And I can't blame them, after years of Sonic being a treated as a laughingstock. But part of me misses some of the goofy shit. No matter how much I tore some of the Archie comics apart as I was reading them for this blog, I just look back on stuff like Cal and Al or the Many Hands issues and laugh. And that same part of me looks at this show about Knuckles being the sidekick to this fucking guy, and just goes...
"We're so back."
In conclusion, I genuinely think this was a more enjoyable TV show than Sonic Prime.
I wouldn't go back and rewatch Sonic Prime anytime soon, aside from maybe, like, a couple of the Shadow-heavy episodes. Huge stretches of that show bored me to tears. The writers squandered all of that show's potential. But I would rewatch the Knuckles show, which takes a terrible premise and has a lot of fun with it, in a heartbeat. Even the bowling parts. The bowling scenes in the Knuckles show are more engaging than 70% of the fights in Sonic Prime. I am not trolling. I mean that sincerely, with all my heart. Don't @ me.
Stray observations
There is effectively zero meaningful setup for the third movie in this, unless Wade's family or the two GUN agents come back or something. Project Shadow is not mentioned in this. There is no secret post-credits scene with Gerald
The CGI in this is pretty good. Not quite on par with the movies, but pretty good. Sonic's weird forehead wrinkles are distracting in his scenes though. Please fix that
I wouldn't say I liked this as much as the second movie, which obviously gets a ton of points for, you know. The Cool Sonic Shit. But I had more fun with it than the first movie, which I still feel is a painfully generic family movie that was only saved by Tyson's redesign
"Grapes are an interesting choice for someone who doesn't use his individual fingers."
Agent Willoughby was apparently the one at GUN who had to buy the Olive Garden gift cards and set up the fake wedding. Her origin story is that she hated doing shit like that and wanted to go fight aliens
This miniseries contains another Keanu namedrop because Wade's childhood bedroom has a Speed poster on the wall. I swear, if Sonic doesn't say Shadow sounds just like Keanu...
Knuckles is familiar with Paul Blart Mall Cop
Near the end the ESPN 8: The Ocho commentators say that the 1974 Reno bowling championship was also interrupted by an extraterrestrial, and given that was exactly 50 years ago I can't write off the possibility that that was Shadow. Please for the love of god give us a sequel series after the third movie where Wade takes Shadow the Hedgehog bowling. I need this more than I need air
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Every once in a while, the magnitude of the Hamas massacre hits me all over again.
I'm not sure most people get it even now.
In absolute numbers, it is one of the three deadliest terrorist attacks in human history (second or third worst, depends on which estimates you trust for the Camp Speicher massacre), but if we take it in relation to the size of the population in the attacked country (which we should, because terrorism by its very nation seeks to victimizes through psychological trauma the entire target population, and not just those who were physically affected during the attack), then what Hamas did IS the single deadliest terrorist attack in the entirety of human history.
But it's even more than that.
Never, in any other attack, have the terrorists taken over as much land as Hamas did on Oct 7. ENTIRE TOWNS were under complete control of the terrorists, some for SEVERAL DAYS (I specifically remember watching a report on one town, where combat with the terrorists was still taking place on Oct 11, meaning on day 5 of this terrorist invasion into Israel). ENTIRE TOWNS WERE OCCUPIED. BY TERRORISTS. There's not a single Hollywood action movie dealing with such a scenario, because NOTHING OF THIS SCALE HAS EVER HAPPENED BEFORE. Imagine waking up and hearing in real time that the northern half of the American states Washington, Idaho and Montana has been taken by terrorists, who are driving through the streets freely, as they murder, pillage, rape, torture, maim, burn and kidnap people, and almost no one's there to stop them.
And then imagine the world expecting the US government to just... let the terrorists retreat to the other side of an international border in the north, after having murdered over 40,400 American, most of which are civilians, almost 183,000 more injured, and while taking with them across the border over 8,450 American hostages, to God knows what awful fate, for how long, or if they will even ever come back alive. Entire communities and regions would be devastated, without knowing if they'd be able to rebuild. The total would be more than 230,000 Americans directly impacted (I've adapted the real numbers from Oct 7 to the size of the American population... Remember the horrendous 9/11 attack, which saw 2,977 victims killed and a few thousands more injured, and think of what would be the emotional punch of over 230,000 direct victims).
Imagine expecting the US to let that go, and allow those terrorists to continue existing and ruling the land on its northern border. Imagine expecting the US to do so while this terrorist organization openly declares that it will repeat this large scale massacre whenever possible, until the entire country is destroyed.
And please don't come at me with "Fine, Israel can react, but not like this." Unless you have the military expertise to explain exactly how Israel can protect its people from this attack ever being repeated, and to free all our hostages, without civilian casualties (despite Hamas intentionally using them as human shields, and even directly causing Gazan deaths), unless you can translate the vague "not like this" into something practical, some actual guidelines on how this urban war could have been fought differently, even though there's no historical precedent to support that this is possible, "not like this" is just wishful thinking at the expense of the safety and right to live of Israelis.
(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)
#israel#israeli#israel news#israel under attack#israel under fire#israelunderattack#terrorism#anti terrorism#antisemitism#hamas#antisemitic#antisemites#jews#jew#judaism#jumblr#frumblr#jewish
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5 tips for proofreading & their pros and cons
Define your objectives for each chapter. In my case, some of my chapters are better written than others. My objectives for them will differ. Before starting my proofreading, I list my needs and areas of improvements, and I write them down somewhere so I have them in front of me rather than in my head alone.
Pros : allows you to know which points you need to focus on ; provides a guideline adapted to your needs.
Cons : risk of losing homogeneity and fluidity + flaws may be shifted to other chapters that didn't have them before due to a sudden imbalance.
Plan several proofreading sessions, each one of them addressing ONE NEED AT A TIME. (E.g., one for grammar, another for style, and a final one for coherence. ) And I insist on the "one need at a time" part. Even for those who can multitask (unlike me), I really don't recommend settling for a single proofreading session. It could interfere with your concentration and let you skip some flaws. And please, always give your chapter a final read after your edits to ensure that the elements make sense as a whole, and are not repeated every two paragraphs (I plead guilty, your honor)
Pros: allows you to focus precisely on each point, and give it dedicated attention.
Cons: you can quickly get confused and risk multiple re-readings + significant time investment.
I make my corrections on a separate file. Whatever you do, it's always better to have a backup and therefore to save your files (don't blindly trust autosave) to create archives. I think it's a two-ways process : 1) you open two files simultaneously, one with your V1 and one, blank, where you'll rewrite your chapter as you make changes. Eventually, this new doc will become your V2 ; 2) you copy the parts to proofread into a new document and edit directly in there.
Pros: allows you to rewrite as you wish without being discouraged by the following paragraphs - especially in case of the first way.
Cons: requires multiple files (maybe multiple screens to be at ease) and better organization.
Change the typography. I don't know about you, but after a while, I'm struck by semantic satiation (click on the link - it's Wikipedia -, it's very interesting) and nothing makes sense anymore. After the 52,846th proofreading, I might as well read in another language. I've found a relatively effective trick - not as effective as a complete break, but sometimes you need to move forward - which consists of changing the typography. I can't remember who gave me this advice though, but be sure they've been thanked more than enough in my mind. In any case, seeing words change their shape significantly helps my brain to stay focused and attentive. (Maybe it's just my mind playing tricks on me but I only see the results.)
Pros: it's simple to implement.
Cons: I don't know if this trick works for everyone or if I'm the only weirdo (you can tell me in the comment section).
Take notes. This is a very personal tip but I keep a proofreading logbook. Like, I record in a few sentences the first time an element is mentioned, how it's describes, and most importantly… I MENTION THE DATES. The story I'm currently writing is heavily governed by a chronological system, so I have an absolute need to keep the day count up to date.
Pros: helps avoid inconsistencies and oversights.
Cons: very tedious to maintain and creates (a lot) of extra work.
I've started my prooreading journey yesterday and I already want to die. If I find in the edits something that is worth making a post, be sure that I will. Or let me know if you're simply curious.
Gentle reminder : Best is the worst enemy of good so, at some point, you'll have to let it go and let your chapter live its life to its fullest. Don't be hard on yourself and be proud of your work - or know that I am.
#writing#writing advice#writing a book#writeblr#writing resources#writing tips#writing tools#writing help#creative writing#writing process#writer problems#writer blog#writing journey#novel writing#writing challenge#about books and writing#essays#fiction writing#writerscommunity#writing style#books and literature#resources for writers#writers on tumblr#writing resource#writebrl
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Bad End: Hidden Heir
Next ->
The Duke's family had very distinct eyes. It was genetic. An aggressively dominant trait at that, though it tended to die off, after a few generations out of the family. Supposedly a "blessing of the Gods". Spring to be exact. Bounty and luck. And the family certainly WAS bountiful.
In all the best and worst ways.
Wealth, corruption, children and bastards. It was a family so aggressively ALIVE, it could only be Spring's blessing that made them so. Pouring mania and madness into their veins like sweet sunlight. Whispering glory and riches, into power addled ears. They burst with life. Even as they endlessly destroyed themselves.
They were fictional.
Fascinating set dressings, for the stage play of someone else's story. Unimportant beyond their role in world building. As the origin story and power base of a character lead.
The Story ITSELF didn't even occur here. But rather, in the capital. Where the players of significance had gathered.
And I? Oh I was some minor antagonist, so insignificant to the plot, I genuinely could not remember which of seven different women I actually WAS. It had been an ongoing series. Otome Isekai. Reverse harem.
And I was either in the ORIGINAL original novel, the isekai'd plot novel, the anime adaption, OR a horrifying fever dream. My memory was largely useless. But? I did remember the characters. The archetypes.
And the fact, that the author had clearly been going though a Yandere phase.
My region of the Reverse Harem collect-o-thon? Horrifying! Red flags everywhere! No one here should date, leave room for fantasy Jesus, have we considered the joys of being a NUN? Yes. Yes I HAVE thought about it.
I was pretty sure I'd never make it. End up dead or captured by some sort of Nun Yandere. Or God Yandere. Possibly both. Assuming the bandit yanderes don't get me first. It... it was very stressful, living here.
Luckily? I knew when I could leave.
Or so I thought.
Because my house? The Dukedom? Had the "yandere butler who is secretly an heir." Who starts out with loyal dog behavior. A little highly possesive master and servant play. Then rises to become a Duke. Presumably? That is when I die. Or am disowned.
Death is most likely. Since my role was "minor antagonist" and I was to be mean to the sweet, earnest, Harem possessing Protagonist. Don't see WHY I would. Live and let live. Good for her etc etc. But regardless? Best to avoid, just in case.
The problem? Who do you think Mr Illegitimate Heir serves before she gets here? The OTHER possible heirs? Of course not! They'd "oops! Hunting accident~☆" him in a heart beat. Father isn't stupid. And my sisters? Issues. Violent, violent, issues.
He ends up with ME.
Father, WHY.
Obviously, I ignore him. I see nothing. I hear nothing. There is no war in Ba Sing Se. Mmmmm, tea. Good book. Ignore his creepy staring. His creepy, creepy staring.
Thankfully? I never really ran out of Totally Legitimate reasons to send him away to learn or do something. Proper tea making. Door maintenance. Eastern embroidery. Something, anything, and off you go! Bye bye~☆!
Unfortunately. He got faster. Better and better at learning. Mastering skills. Coming BACK. Showing up to stand in the corner, silent and looming, like an omen of death. Those damn eyes. The fucking family eyes!
I don't have them. And NOT as, my Father would have me believe, because I "take after my Mother". But because I am not genetically related to the Duke. I have GOLD eyes. When I wear the right shade of green? I pass. So I am condemned to forever wear green. Don't even really like it much. But?
I am pretty damn sure? I was just... pretty.
A lovely, orphaned, golden eyed child that COULD pass as his. So why not? It was a whim that payed off. Unlike in the original stories, I imagine. Since I am by FAR the best behaved child in this entire house. Ha! Suck it, bio-kids, the adopted one's the favorite! Maybe should have been less lil bitchs.
....I carefully do not say.
Those are INSIDE thoughts.
Fuck. He's still LOOMING. Isn't he? Go awaaaaaay. Where is Protag-chan? Come be doe eyed and busty! Trip adorably! Go "kyaaa~" or something! I feel body heat and freeze. He's leaning over my shoulder to pick up the teapot, pour me another cup. I can FEEL the barest graze of his knuckles against my back, from where he's gripped my chair. The smell of his aftershave almost hauntingly pleasant.
Like he KNEW exactly what smells I liked most. Went out of his way to find one that best suited my preference. Coincidence. Please, PLEASE be a coincidence! I do not turn my head. Keep my eyes locked straight ahead. Barely breathing.
He steps back.
The new pot is sharp and herbal. Almost bitter. I force myself to drink. Can't see a sugar dish, and REFUSE to turn around and ask for one. Ignore. IGNORE. My pounding heart calms. My muscles slowly start to relax.
It... it IS weird, though, now that I think about it? That Protag-chan hasn't reached the Dukedom yet. She should have. God only knows I sent Creepy to the capital enough times, with enough highly specific instructions, that he should've had his meet cute's and dates by the dozen. Been half way in love. So... why...?
Huh.
Dizzy.
The taste of tea sits wrong on my tounge. I stop drinking as the world sways. Letting the cup fall from my hand. Splatter, roll, and shatter. I try desperately to stand. A gentle gloved hand catches my elbow, supporting me. I turn. Giddy eyes. Triumphant, wide, spring green eyes. Too green to be gold, too gold to be green.
An almost cruel, mocking, yet loving grin.
Another hand slides around my waist, braces me against his side. Gleeful little murmurs, too pleased to be reassuring. You. You did this! You DRUGGED ME!
I can barely move, body relaxing against my command, going limp, as he draws me close. Presses his face against the side of my head, against my temple. A deep, shuddering breathe, that he savors like wine. I try to pull free but can not. Feel his lips pull into a vicious grin against my skin. Hands begin to run in gentle, claiming, exploration.
And at last the drugs kick in... the wo..rld..
G..oes..
Dar..k........
#threepandas#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x darling#yandere otome isekai#yandere x you#yandere duke#adopted reader#they are not half siblings#yandere oc#yandere otome#just wanted to clarify cause it be like that sometimes in otome#bad end au#bad end hidden heir au#hidden heir au
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ahhhhh, im.not the one who requested it buy I love the oneshot about catnap with the child he took care of after the hour of joy because of the kitty thing. Even though I'm not the one who requested it, is it possible I can request something in the same premise of it. Where catnap after taking care of the child for a long time is starting to run out of the food reserves the factory had, and he has to find other ways to feed them. Through feeding them like how he feeds the smiling critters in the playhouse on "meat" from you know who, or forcing the child to leave so they have a chance to find food. But catnap being catnap wants to keep her there despite so decides on the first choice, even though he had let the child get attached to dogday.
(I'm sorry this may show up on your ask box twice I ment to not send this anonymously but I did by accident so I wanted to correct that, anyways thank you for your absolutely amazing writing remember to take breaks when you need to and stay amazing❤️)
Seeker
Note || awe, no worries. Happy to see you in!
WC || 1,034
Sypnosis || emotions are scarce, food is too. It seems factory is getting to everyone, CatNap is left with unprecedented levels of risks.
The conditions of the environment were no doubt not very liveable ones, so he had tried his best to adapt to the conditions so that you may be able to live in his room comfortably or even walk anywhere else in Playcare. Even beyond the whole place in any case, he just wasn’t sure what to do anymore. CatNap was at an odds end within himself at deciding what to do, what would be best for you.
Should he force you to leave the factory in hopes you find food? No, you’d just get lost and scared, no doubt manhandled by an incompetent people that may pass you by in the process. You were just a kid, lonely and in need of companionship and being surrounded by people you could truly trust.
Though the colorful disposition and creepy toys in this place far proved the idea he needed to keep you safer more often. Knowing that you may as well get attached to some of the other toys you come across, CatNap was admittedly worried.
You were often inquisitive, curious to find everything your attention was captured by. That wasn’t of any good in his honest opinion, but he had to remain with a steady and cool head. So that when it may be, he can take care of you more properly.
CatNap didn’t want you to leave, he had become far too accustomed to your presence. Hearing your joyful laughs and giggles, staying so hopeful and strong in your own unique way. You certainly brought on a joyful aspect to his lonely life, even with all the others he had punished for being heretics.
DogDay, oh yes, he had to take some chunks from him. That was the last thing he wanted to do with all that has been said and done. But he truly had no other option, but his worst thought being as how you began to get attached to DogDay.
In retrospect however, he will admit that you can be cute and quite charming for just being a child at most.
“Mr…” You began, the crayon stilling to a stop. DogDay perked his head up, though the effort to move is indeed extraneous on his war-torn body (both literally and figuratively). “Hm, sweetheart?” He spoke out, his voice spooking you a little bit as he hadn’t spoken very often. You didn’t expect him to actually answer you or at all for that matter, but DogDay seemed kind to you. You wanted to get to know him at least, but to him, he was slight afraid – on your behalf, you didn’t know better on a lot of things. Especially the vying point is how his legs had been taken from him, most of it being fed to the smaller toy versions of the smiling critters and you too. Did you even know what you were eating?
You hesitantly stood up, leaving your paper and crayon to abandon. “Why are you chained up like that?” You asked with a tinge of nervousness, almost afraid as if you were going to incur some sort of angry emotion from the large dog. If he could truly move his own gaping black mouth, he would’ve been frowning right now. DogDay was concerned for you, as to why you were put in this situation.
“I am… just not a very good person, sweetheart.” His gentle tone carried an aura reminiscent of a father if you ever heard one. Your eyes were wide with curiosity, knowing it was okay to continue speaking with him the way you were. “But, you don’t look bad to me. You're even nice to me!” Your innocent tone had brought back a fragmented memory for DogDay, he chuckled with a warm spell about the air.
DogDay let out an audible sigh, “Not all things are as they seem, CatNap included.” His words incited a bout of curiosity in the flames of your stomach. Now this was something you needed to understand, “Stretchy kitty?” DogDay nodded, a chuckle escaping him once more. You simply were the cutest thing he had seen in a long while.
“I.. would say he’s not, kind or gentle as you would think him to be.” DogDay was nervous, irradiated by a different presence he had quickly taken notice of, but had continued on anyway. “CatNap, had uh, punished me Sweetheart. Wasn’t nice to his god.”
‘God?’ you thought, “what is that Mr?” You spoke out in reply, sitting down and closer next to him then you were previously. You were rather oblivious to the presence of such an omniscient aura, menacing enough to be sure. DogDay wasn’t sure how to explain the term finely, but you were curious, wanting to satiate that curiosity by always asking questions.
You deserved to have every single one of them answered, no matter how silly they may seem. DogDay had hoped the best for you, he had gotten rather attached to you. In spite of CatNap’s many warnings to not talk to you or even glance in your direction, not wanting him to bore your head with lies and spiteful attempts to turn you against him in any way possible. Well, DogDay had felt quite an intense hatred against CatNap right at this very moment, and found the courage to move on forward with his words. No matter what may happen to him, “God is uh, let’s say a very inspirational person… powerful even. But he can be a hypocrite too.” He nodded, tilting his head as if he was speaking through his movements.
“Sweetheart, you follow your own heart alright?” DogDay spoke hopefully, hoping to see that his words had gotten to you a little bit. “Never let anyone tell you otherwise.” You nodded with a fire in your eyes he hadn’t expected from you, but this a youthful you, easily impressionable and inspired. DogDay will forever be hopeful for you, and grateful he ever had gotten to speak to you in the past few days anyway.
A distant crying was unheard of, a lonely digressable cat, heart heavy and hurt. He began to cry silently, tears are there yet there are none.
I’ll shelter and adore you more than anything.
#poppy playtime#poppy playtime x reader#poppy playtime chapter 3#x reader#catnap x reader#catnap poppy playtime#catnap#child!reader#dogday poppy playtime
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The Humanity of Odysseus and the Importance of the Curse of Polyphemus (an Odyssey Analysis on Fate and Destiny)
I believe there is one thig that needs to be said about the Odyssey and Odysseus in particular and something I have rarely seen properly adapted. It is the importance of the unchangable fate in antiquity in general and homeric poems in particular. One can say this starts from the character itself; Odysseus name meaning "Anger Bringer" or "Furious" is an indicator that not only the character will be dusliked by many but that he would also cause anger which one can expect would lead to terrible consequences. However I believe the moment Odysseus was truly deprived of all his choices was the infamous Curse of Polyphemus:
In Rhapsody/Book 9 of the Odyssey, Odysseus describes his misadventure with the cyclops Polyphemus and when he revealed himself to him, Polyphemus prays to his father, Poseidon, giving Odysseus a double-curse (as it happens to most predictions that have at least two ways they can go) which goes like this:
"I call upon you, Poseidon, Earth-bearer with cyan/black/dark hair, if I am your son and you wish to be my father (you wish to be called my father), do it for me so that Odysseus the Sacker of Cities will never reach his home, the son of Laertes who calls Ithaca his home, but if fate calls for him to see his friends and reach his well-built home and his ancestral land, make it so it will be terrible (here return), that he will lose all his companions and in a foreign ship and find misery waiting for him at his home!"
(Translation by me)
So as you can see the curse has two different outcomes
He will never see his home again
If he does, it will be without his companions brought by a foreign ship and he will find misery at his own home when he arrives
At this point, given that the story is "in media res" aka "told from the middle", we know now that the second part is fulfilled, or almost fulfilled. Odysseus is in Scheria, he is alone, he is shipwrecked, there is no sign of any of his companions anywhere so we expect him to return at this foreign ship, aka a Phaeacaean ship to his home at any moment. However by the moment the curse is placed, Odysseus doesn't know which outcome is to befall upon him. And while the second part is weirdly specific (and in a way preparing us for the outcome) the first one is not nearly speficic enough!
Make it so he never sees his land again.
This could mean anything; does he get killed in the ardous trip? Does he get straddled to a place for the rest of his life? Does he somehow lose his...memory and never return home again (similarly to how his men ate the Lotuses at the Lotophagi land)? What is more, nowhere in this part does it say his comrades will survive the ordeal. Although the curse means specifically for Odysseus not reaching his home and one could assume his men would but not Odysseus, that is not guaranteed.
Both of these scenarios are terribly gloom for both Odysseus and his men. So what does Odysseus do? He does what every human being would have done;
He tries to change fate!
He tries constantly to lift the curse:
Even if he knows deep down is pointless, even if he more or less has realized they are off for an arduous trip that will cost them probably all of them their lives, Odysseus STILL TRIES to change the fate! He sails off to find help. He goes to Aiolus and asks for help. He gets the bag. At this point Odysseus is at the end of his wits. He has a chance, he thinks, to change fate, to change the curse. He remains awake for 9 days to make sure he will (see also my other analysis in regards to that) and yet it is all in vain. His men open the bag JUST A LITTLE BEFORE they reach Ithaca and pushed back.
At this point it becomes all the more clear that they are up for an endless journey or a settlement away from home at best case scenario and all to die at worst case scenario. Odysseus doesn't give up! He asks AGAIN, this time he is denied.
And then comes destruction...
They reach the idland of the giant Laistrygonians and here Odysseus suffers the worst loss he has suffered so far; he loses 11 out of his 12 ships in a single raid and barely manages to escape with the rest of his comrades resting on his ship. Right now is clearer than ever that the curse is taking place so the real question is; which of the parts shall it be fulfulled? And they reach the land of Circe. Plenty of his men turn into pigs. Eurylochus barely escapes doom and runs at him to tell him "LEAVE THEM AND GO". Odysseus knows in his bones they are doomed! He knows he either leaves them and fulfulles the second prophecy (for his men already perish little by little) or either way the first part of the prophecy is fulfilled. What does Odysseus do?
He tries AGAIN!
He sells himself to Circe, he requests his men's freedom. He ASKS Circe for advice, he descends the Underworld, asks Tiresias for a course; how he can reach his home, how he can save his men, how he can REVERSE THE CURSE. Even if he knows it is impossible to challenge fate (not even Zeus could transcend fate). In a way he comits a form of hubris hoping to change fate. And yet he is HUMAN! He cannot accept that his men would die that he cannot go home. He wants to TRY! So sure enough he gets a possible way out...
Tiresias gives him hope...
The prophet tells him he can save his men AND reach Ithaca IF they do not eat the cattle of Helios Hyperion. What is more Circe gives him advice for the trip; the course they can follow, the steps they can take and again the warning of NOT eating the cattle of Helios. Odysseus takes heart to those, he DESPERATELY GRABS on them! He thinks he has a chance. Maybe...JUST MAYBE he can reverse this terrible curse! He can MAKE IT RIGHT! He has a chance to change fate! He has a chance to reverse it!
Self-Fulfilled Prophecy
Little does he know though that the trip is already set for failiure. Skylla claims 6 of his best men (his men CONTINUE TO PERISH) and yet Odysseus thinks that this is a sign that he can make it, that the terrible sacrifices will pay off and that he is on his way to break the curse. He is following the instructions therefore it must go well. And come the Cattle Of Helios Hyperion.
An attempt to dodge fate...
Odysseus tells to his men that they should not stop at the island now. He is not ready to take another risk. He will not do the same as the sack of Aiolus. He wants to AVOID THE ISLE ALTOGETHER. If his men are not tepted, they will not break. He intends to keep going and it could have worked...but...
Sure enough his men are tired they need to stop
Odysseus has no choice. At this point he probably realizes there is no way to change fate. He sees it now that everything is up for destruction and he still doesn't know WHICH VERSION will be fulfulled! And even if every part of his brain tells him everything is lost Odysseus REFUSES TO GIVE UP! No, this cannot be the end! There must still be time and space to reverse it!
He makes them promise
Odysseus makes his men swear to everything sacred that no matter what they shall not touch the cattle. That they would survive only with the provisions given by Circe, that they will not be tempted no matter what. Sure enough he extracts the promise from them but of course the prophecy is now moving. Wind is opposite. There is no way they can go. They get straddled for WEEKS. Food is over. Odysseus sees the path is for destruction and yet...
HE TRIES AGAIN!
He goes to the island to pray! There MUST be another way! The gods can hear him...maybe pity him and release them from this! And yet he falls asleep from fatigue, stress and godly intervention. Now the clock is ticking! His men cannot withstand hunger anymore and slay the cattle. Now their fate is shielded. We now know they will die. We know also which part of the prophecy will be fulfulled; Odysseus will come home ALONE, just like we see him narrating alone (even if we might as well wonder whether Odysseus would remain in Scheria, it is pretty much settled that Odysseus returns to Ithaca). However Odysseus doesn't know...but what he fears the most has happened
One last desperate attempt.
Odysseus is human above all. He sees the slain animals, he KNOWS his men will die and even that time he REFUSES to accept it! He REFUSES to give up! He sets sail again, hoping to save them, to save them all (himself included) as they roam for 7 days in the sea
And doom strikes...
His men all perish, his ship is gone! Odysseus is left alone in the sea, fighting for 10 days to the brief of death. Right now Odysseus is no longer struggling to change fate...he is no longer struggling to save anyone but himself...he is struggling
...SO THAT AT LEAST THE FATE IN STORE FOR HIM IS HIS RETURN...
He now has suffered the ultimate loss. He needs to at least make it home! Even if that means without companions, even if that means to be home in misery...he just HAS TO GO HOME! He cannot just perish in the sea or be forever straddled outside Ithaca! And then Calypso happens. Odysseus is left in her isle for 7 years.
He now fears he will never see his home again
He cries every day on the beach. His rape every night is strong enough reason for him to do so but also the fact that he now FEARS that the first section of the prophecy is fullfilled; that he is never to see his home and friends and family again. That his fate was not to perish in the sea but to be forever held against his will away from his beloved home and family. And he is filled with despair. When he has lost all hope that he will ever roam about the sea again; with at least SOME HOPE that the second part of the curse would be fulfilled, he is ready to throw himself in the sea; give an end to his life since there is no point in hoping anymore. The worst scenario has happened for him. He has nothing else to expect...
And it is so...till Hermes brings the order to release him. Now Odysseus finds hope anew that he will return. And he struggles with all his might to survive! Even if he is days out in the sea in a small raft. Even when his raft is destroyed and he has to literally swim to Scheria. his mind goes "NO! I WILL NOT PERISH! I WILL GO HOME!" and sure enough he does and he does meet his friends again and he does find this misery at his home and yet now Odysseus can endure this misery, because he knows he managed to get home and he knows that he has left but ONE TASK according to Tiresias.
He tried to beat fate and he failed...but now he has hope...
So as you see, and forgive me for the long analysis, Odysseus is more human than anyone can imagine and always relatable character. Despite his flaws and mistakes one of the noblest mistakes he made was to think he could change fate and dedicate a large part of his trip trying to do just that; change the curse and save his companions which only ends up to a self-fulfilled prophecy but I doubt anyone can deny that we would all have done the same. I doubt any of us would just abandon all hope and sit tight waiting for the prophecy to be filled either way. He would all have tried to change such a grim outcome!
Because we are human. And so was Odysseus.
#odysseus#greek mythology#the odyssey#tagamemnon#odyssey#katerinaaqu analyzes#homer's iliad#homer's odysseus#homer's odyssey#homeric poems#homeric odysseus is just its own thing!#just a homeric poem writer and enthusiast#homeric epics#ancient greek fate#destiny#odysseus and polyphemus#polyphemus#odysseus was severely traumatized#odysseus was human#odysseus being the most relatable character for 2800 years straight#odysseus comrades#circe#calypso#hermes#humanity#greek mythos#greek myth#tiresias#prophesy#odypen
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I love the yandere monster story, can I make a wish for some yandere monster boy naga who is looking for a mate to carry his eggs and live the rest of his life together forever?
I don't condone yandere shit irl, but if you bang a naga man someday I'll give you a pass and a cookie, you mad lad. Not proofread enough lmao, also sorry but I really don't know how to type s e x.
Tw/Tags: straight up NSFW/+18 scene (written by someone who struggles to imagine sex- So we don't guarantee quality) // not very descriptive genitals, if at all // the usual yandereness + breeding kink; possessive behavior; manipulation; suffocation; implied oviposition but not really cause I'm dumb // you're a literal desert mailman💀 I'm sorry // brief mentions of troubled family life/past trauma // language barrier // self-conscious reader // willing yet slightly scared reader.
🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭
Writing in the sand [Yandere!Male!Naga x AFAB!Messenger!Reader - One shot]
Being a messenger was actually a lot more dangerous than it seemed at first, how many times have you and your camel met with bandits, scammers, difficult terrain, awful weather, people who would tell you the wrong direction for shits and giggles?? MANY times, but did you ever consider quitting and going back to the tea shop of your very judgmental parents or worse- To accept the offer of personal servant to that weird queen from the faraway lands who wouldn't shut up about how much better her kingdom was?? NO!
I mean a little bit. Just a little bit. Occasionally, I mean her kingdom was really pretty, though constant snow sounds like a pain in the ass, and giving up the freedom you currently have for either a strict monarch or your family was NOT something you were planning to do, ever!
The first time you got off the borders to send messages for far away people was the day you truly felt alive for once! The desert itself was your greatest rival and yet you faced it head down after that day- Sure, you were unprepared at first and there's still plenty to learn out there but it was EXCITING!!
You fought (ran away as quickly as you could) many groups trying to get a coin out of your body, or your life! Or your camel!! King Mustard wasn't the same after the "giant scorpion with that group of thieves" incident that happened, the worst part is that it happened twice though the people were different at least. Your personal theory is that the scorpion WAS the same from before, and that it has been following you through your journeys and it probably was looking for revenge!!
You told that story to so many people that now it's hard to go someplace without repeating yourself, it's weird how even though you're never at one place for too long, most people know you! You're, humbly speaking, sort of a big deal in the great drylands- Not known for your bravery but mostly for your constant running mouth and your adapted technique in how to extract cactus juice safely from a cactus with 70% success of no cactus drunkenness! (100% Needle-safe not included).
Stopping in a town was obviously the safest place for you and your camel, but was also probably one of the most rewarding parts of your trips, of course because you always need to have plenty of resources out there in the sand but also because… Well, as much as you loved every second of exploration and travel, you were admittedly a very lonely person.
It's not something you like to tell others, as you have already experienced people doubting your capability of being a messenger if you get so "emotional" over being far away from people ("I told you so!" Yeah, thanks mum.). It was a time you could feel at least safe and… Sometimes welcomed.
But it wasn't always a lonely trip, after all, King Mustard was here! Him with his big personality was always the heart of the party! Everyday was fun with him, even if he couldn't speak to you… However, that doesn't mean you haven't found great comfort in your travels, you probably haven't noticed this yourself yet, but [y/n]...
You are a very dear person.
Every person you've helped along the way in your trips, just by coincidence finding them, and landing them a hand in the hot and harsh reality of the desert thinks of you dearly. You have friends! It's just that you don't see them very often… If at all. The desert has a funny way of getting people closer, people who struggle to survive in its environment, and yet it also drifts them away- The wind blows in every direction separating every small particle of sand, and maybe one day they'll meet again, or maybe not. Cruel was it, with its breathtaking beauty and extremely cold personality for someone so hot and merciless.
You often associate the desert with its forgotten god. You tend to talk about it as a person rather than just an environment of harsh conditions, you always remember to talk to it, hoping it would listen in a way. You were pretty much by yourself out there, but thinking that someone was listening to your travels made you feel safer, perhaps not as tormented as the blazing Sun would leave you to believe. You were being watched, and protected, you just knew it!
The proof of it came from one of the greatest encounters you ever had during your travels.
It was really hot that day, King Mustard seemed really tired and you were melting under the blazing heat- You two needed shelter and fast! And suddenly, as if the gods listened to your prayers!-(But quickly threw you two middle fingers)- An immense sandstorm was approaching!! For someone as cautious as you, you couldn't understand where the hell it came from!! It was so sudden and just- There was no indication of it!! At all!!
You got knocked out, and when you woke up- You were… Somewhere strange, like an underground oasis of sorts, hidden in the desert there was a cave of luscious greenery and drinkable water, it was magical how big the place was!! You thought you had died and went straight to Paradise!!
At least, you thought so when you saw a very large and handsome man staring back at you, smiling gently. He had tanned skin and a REALLY long, almost platinum hair! He looked so gorgeous with his green cat eyes that you almost forgot to breathe!
You asked the man if he was an angel, and he responded to you in a language you didn't understand. You were 100% certain that the man was really an angel and yet when he revealed the lower part of his body your face dropped immediately, terror slightly setting in. He was half snake, half a giant snake at that! His tail seemed endless, those dark scales were so pretty yet so terrifying! The gold markings seemed very regal and holy in nature but the endless darkness almost seemed to eat it all up! Like a demon!
You freaked out at first, but when you looked at his eyes, his gentle face- His expression of concern, those big bright eyes, you noticed he really didn't seem to have any ill intent towards you, perhaps you were misjudging him for something he was not. After breathing in and out, you calmed down, never taking your eyes from him, you felt comforted as you realized this creature was the one who saved you out there! And who saved your camel!! He was still really scared of your snake buddy, but you made sure to soothe him.
Long story short, you became friends with a human-snake guy who seemed genuinely very cool! It's a shame you didn't understand a word he said… You suspect that maybe he speaks in a very ancient language and perhaps this means he was REALLY old!! And yet, he seemed just about your age, and you got to hangout with him during your free time.
Poor thing, he seemed trapped down here (though to be fair, it is a fabulous prison to be in-) and he really wanted to catch up with times! So you made it your duty to help him understand the new world, you have no idea why he is here and how long did he live here separated from the rest of the world, but now that you knew how to get there and how to get out- You made it your mission to teach him everything you knew about the modern world.
And although the language barrier was massive, you two somehow got to learn something very special about each other- He shared with you his name, "Rakaski", and you got to teach him yours.
~"[y/n]"~ His accent was heavy, and yet you felt something flutter inside you whenever you heard him call your name. You remember him repeating your name over and over again as if he wanted to memorize how to say it.
After hearing his name, you made sure to research it, trying to find something that could lead you to know what language he was talking in- But no books nor people seemed to know how to speak it, except for one book you found, a fairytale book that was so old that it was a nightmare trying to understand the vernacular! But it didn't seem like a very "old" old kind of book, it was probably made after the language had changed, there were a lot of words that you didn't recognize.
The book never explained the name's meaning really, but it was always used as a common word- And given the context of the story you read, it seemed to mean either "falling" or "god"? Well, you're not very sure, since the book was confusing as hell, and your interpretation of the story was very mixed- Was it about a desert deity or a man that kept tripping over in the sand?! Seriously, why did it have to be so confusing!?
In the end, you still didn't understand the book and neither did you find out anything about Rakaski's name. At least you know it was older than your home kingdom, which was pretty cool.
Either way, the lack of communication never stopped you from coming down that hidden paradise to talk to your best friend every opportunity you could! King Mustard can be very squeamish whenever you guys try to get down there, he really disliked going there and you assumed it was because he was claustrophobic, which you already knew he was. So, today you'll leave him in the shade and get down by yourself, you don't want to stress the poor thing.
"M-Mustard! King Mustard Junior The Third, stop pushing me around!! You know you're a lot heavier than me! Seriously, this isn't funny!!" Ah, King Mustard, for a camel you're really just a scaredy cat! You push him away gently as you can, he keeps positioning himself in front of the hole you want to jump in.
"Hey stop!! If you don't want to come then fine, but let me get in! Please! I'll be back soon!" The massive animal was starting to get a little too agitated, and you knew better than to try to force your way.
"Mustard, seriously you're starting to scare me, you know I'll be back soon, please let me get down." You don't know if it was the deep magical connection of friendship that made him understand you and realize that he scared you, or if he suddenly felt disinterested in playing with you right now.
Taking by how the camel sassily walked away you're starting to think it was the second option- Of was he genuinely insulted by your stubbornness? Who knows.
"Sigh… You always get like this when we pass by." Though you can't really blame him, you know he still distrusts Rakaski, but come on it's been a year! And Rakaski has never hurt any of you two! Sure, he was a bit intimidating at first but he had a good heart, you just knew that.
Compared to the men back in your hometown? Rakaski was a saint, you were sure of it.
You had slid through the sandy hole and into the luscious underground with ease, you started to call for him, but before you could even yell out "Ra" you saw him not so far away, seemingly very occupied.
"Awn, guess you're decorating! Have I come at a bad time?" You walked to him and joked despite being aware he wouldn't understand you.
The way his face lit up and turned to face you was just so precious, he seemed very excited!
~"[y/n]!! [y/n]!! It's really good to see you again!! I was already worried you would never come."~ He talked just like you, committing the same mistake of talking as if the other would understand- You had no clue what he said, but as he coiled around you and his arms squeezed you oh so dearly you understood exactly what he meant.
"Yeah, yeah- Missed you too-" You never knew how to deal with anything social, period, and being flustered at someone who wasn't even human was not a first but it never got easier. But with him, at least, you feel like you don't need to pretend that you don't feel slightly flustered by his attention. Gods know you're a very easy target for large and very well built men.
After he let you go, you realized he was just building a new nest for him, so you decided to help him as well. It was already pretty much done when you got in, but you felt like he deserved a "fancy" bed so you helped him decorate with flowers and some of the trinkets you bought for him, he just loved human trinkets!
And by the gods, you knew you were currently in Spring, but these flowers?! They were just so damn pretty, it's a real shame that your traveling is mostly done in sand, occasionally though you have to go to the East to deliver important letters and gifts and you just kinda love that place! Every time you go, they're experiencing a different season, and it all changes so much, it's beautiful!!
"Oooh!! Maybe I should bring you flowers from one of the neighboring kingdoms, it'll be a way to show you the world since you can't leave…" You think out loud, and of course, he looks at you a little confused- And yet he repeats the word you said.
"Flowers?" He repeats it as if he didn't understand what you said, yet liked how you said it.
"Yes! Flowers!-" You say pointing to the flowers in his nest and surrounding you two, he quickly understands it, it seems.
~"Oh! Flowers! Oh, that's what it's called to you? Great heaven's, humans are always changing, aren't they?"~ He starts to laugh, you… Sort of don't understand the joke, but perhaps "flowers" just sounds funny to him.
He patted your head as he laughed, as if trying to congratulate you on making him laugh (I mean, getting this man to laugh was a challenge, you bet even without the language barrier).....
Although, it felt more like a "reward" sort of situation… As if he was rewarding you for… Being so entertaining, you suppose! Still, that's probably just all in your head, besides you know well when someone is being condescending to you, you're sure of it! Years inside your family's house has made you a pro in spotting bad apples from far away. I mean, you like to think you do, to be fair Rakaski was a little difficult to read, and sometimes he did things that you probably weren't sure of what they meant.
But then again, he was a very old half snake dude trapped inside a cave somewhere along the rock formations spread all over an unforgiving desert, his social life was probably a lot worse than yours, and who's to say that his antics aren't based on his own culture? Perhaps snake people like to coil around each other to show affection, even if it's really hard to breathe like this.
Things weren't so complicated between you two, however, as you guys have invented a form of simple and more direct communication through pointing to objects and scribbling on paper. You had thought about using sign language, so you learned a couple of words and tried to use with him-
"So- This means that- Hm..?"
But before you could teach him he already was talking to you through hand signs you didn't understand, he was very well adapted and you only knew a few like "hello", "you", "me" and "see you soon"- Which would be the most used one for you two.
"Huh, you always impress me, maybe you should be the one teaching me-" You bowed down, genuinely impressed with what you saw, and he seemed very content with himself as he smugly pretended to wave and throw kisses to a nonexistent audience. His ego was always a bit inflated, wasn't it?
You decided to cut your visit short and return back to King Mustard as you didn't want to leave him waiting for too long. It's funny how neither him nor Rakaski liked each other despite sharing a diva personality. As you waved your goodbye, Rakaski decided to give you one last big hug.
A hug that didn't seem to end at all. His body wrapping around you and leaving you to feel surrounded by darkness. This usually happened so it didn't come as any surprise. You tried to tickle him as that usually worked.
"Come on now, you know I'll be back soon!" You laughed as you tried to provoke him, his belly was so sensitive that you could see him contracting and trying to avoid giggling.
But he didn't let you go. Your attempt only made him restrict you further, the snake body trapping your hands with its weight.
You were well aware of Rakaski's animalistic tendencies, for example he was cold blooded and constantly held you to try to gain some height, like he is doing now.
You know that when he yawns his jaw unhinges and opens so inhumanly wide that you have to close your eyes so you won't have any more nightmares about it.
You know he is nocturnal so he is constantly feeling a little too sleepy whenever you two hangout, as you often come to see him during the day (which was something you did for safety, though you sometimes worry he is having trouble sleeping because of you-).
And you also know that snakes tend to suffocate their prey with their body before eating them whole.
While trying not to judge him as a human eating monster you still feel very, very terrified of the slight chance he might be hungry and has forgotten you're not food. The more you struggle the tighter it gets, and it doesn't help that his skin is so cold, it makes your nerves flare up as you can hear him growling with what you hope is not hunger.
"RAKASKI-!!" You yell, you couldn't help it, you were starting to feel dazed. While closing your eyes you felt his lower body shift and relax, you felt arms hugging you a lot more gently than the suffocating sensation from before. If it wasn't for his lazy eyes and the internal chuckling you can feel in his chest you would say he was actually hungry for you. He was just trying to scare you.
"Sigh, you'll be the death of me- Seriously you scared me to death!" You tried to push him off you, but he basically threw his entire body weight on you as you fell to the ground with your back on the soft yet not very ideally comfortable grass.
"Shhhh~!" He nuzzles on you while hugging your stomach. Normally he would have let you go now after petting your head or pretending to bite your neck just for funsies- But today he is very much not letting you go, at all.
Okay, you really didn't want to address the situation, you weren't planning on ever talking about it of course but- By the gods, you knew better than to assume his playful smile was just his usual silly self.
Oh, who were you kidding, you knew it from the moment you came in and saw the nest he was making, it's not like you haven't noticed his chest rising and falling as if he was struggling to breathe just by talking with you. You wanted to leave because you noticed that perhaps you took the wrong month to visit him.
It was mating season, wasn't it? Why now? Why today?! And why WERE YOU ACTUALLY CONSIDERING IT?!!!
"Okay I think I need to think about this a little more- I mean you're clearly not thinking straight right, I'm not even a snake lady, man!" You try to push him off you as you avoid eye contact, the worst part is that he was fairly attractive for someone's who's lower body was just one huge snake tail.
He wouldn't budge, he only shifted his head to look at your face, even if you were avoiding him you could feel his smirk creeping around the corner of your vision, you wouldn't be surprised if he knew what you also knew.
I mean, it wasn't a secret you liked him was it? You thought you didn't mind him noticing this but this sudden desire just feels like it's happening all too fast and you're worried it might be just a one time thing, that he is acting like this out of instinct not out of actual desire towards you. And well you never really did this before, I mean not with someone like him, at all! But you had experiences with people before.
Bad experiences. The ones that would leave someone worried for years that they're not good enough to anyone. Were you being cautious or were you just being self-conscious? Were you scared of him not liking you when this high of his diminished? Maybe you just weren't sure if this was a good idea.
"I don't know if I'm really ready for this." You confess, looking back at him- Hoping to find your answer.
And he looked back at you with a sad expression, did he understand what you said? Did he understand what you meant at least? He looked so concerned and genuinely "awake" despite his current very urgent instincts. He held your hand and kissed it for reassurance, you didn't notice you were crying until your vision was blurry and your chest was aching.
"Sorry.." You tried to wipe them yourself, you don't know why you're apologizing. Rakaski didn't seem to take it well, he was about to say something before shaking his head vigorously and wiping your tears himself. He came closer to look you in the eyes, stop staring elsewhere, you won't find comfort anywhere else but those eyes.
He decides to come off of you and give you some space despite his initial reluctance, the gentle and almost warm presence of reassurance leaving with him- And before he could give you space you decided to make the first move yourself.
You kissed him, hoping perhaps he would understand the gesture, and he did! He hugged you and kissed you back returning your neediness… Though coming in with a lot more desperation than you thought. Not seconds after forcing his tongue in despite your unisseanes.
I mean, it 's good! He isn't being horrific at it is just that you have underestimated how badly he seemed to want this. And although you're just as interested in this as he is, you're worried you may not hold to the same durability as he has.
Today was the day. Today had to be day, and he wouldn't have it any other way. To wait longer would be torture and you best believe this man was patient. He wasn't expecting you to almost reject him at first of course, oh you almost gave the immortal a heart attack!
He shouldn't have been so pushy, he knows that, but having your soft lips on his was so worth it that he couldn't help himself as he pinned you down again, ah… It's a shame the nest is so far away, this is not a very classy way to do things.
Then again, ripping off your clothes with no regards was probably not very refined either, humans needed a lot more courting than he was aware of- But it was fine! You were doing just great, you were being so good to him, he wishes he could praise you in your own language so you could understand him.
~"You're so lovely for something so fragile, thank you for accepting me- You have no idea how long I've spent being trapped here knowing damn well there's not a single other like me out there."~ He would praise you in his own tongue in frantic breaths while kissing your neck and nibbling in your ear, while his lower body made sure to lock you in place, you were a little scared, weren't you?
~"I'm genuinely sorry for having to put you in this position but I can't take it anymore- But I know you want this as well, I know you do!"~ He usually was very talkative, but there was something in his voice that sounded shaky, desperate, and his hands were too confused on where and what to grab that you noticed he seemed just as inexperienced as you were.
Well, at least you thought so before he spread your legs and started to rock back and forth in your lower region- It's not exactly that he is inexperienced, but he is very much off his mind right now- His movements aren't uncertain, they're just frantic for any release. Not that he won't tend to you as well, he just really needs this right now. But you'll understand, you always do. You always treat him so well, despite the monster he has become.
~"It'll hurt, and I'm not sure if it's only a little. I promise to make it worth it later to you."~
You were struggling to keep up with his weird and off putting rhythm- He was just so ready for this, it's been on his mind ever since he found you unconscious inside his natural prison, but he knew better than to be selfish to someone he'll have to share a nest with.
~"It'll be great don't worry, I'll make sure you'll be well taken care of. It'll be incredible, my treasure."~
You shivered when he went from humping your lower region to undressing kissing it almost as passionately as he did your mouth- He should probably move a little slower considering he changes activities way too quickly but hey it felt better than the awkward dry humping.
It wasn't bad, but it lacked a bit of finesse- Not like his careful and calculated attention to your privates right now-
"Humans need a lot more work than I remember, but does that mean we can make it last longer? Would you want that, treasure? [y/n]?" Rakaski was playing with it almost as if he never looked at something like a naked human before, but it was a lie- He was absolutely just trying to tease you with every poke and flick.
He ran his finger down slowly before reaching an opening and pulling it inside, at least one to feel you inside. It's lovely that you arch your back to the littlest of things, and although he doesn't understand your words, moans are hardly hard to misinterpret.
"Slower then? I guess I was being too unprepared, I'll be honest that it's more fun than I expected. If this is the work I have to do every time then I'll gladly accept." Human courting was fascinating to him, though now he understands why, he can't just expect you to take it all in with a little help- And helping someone never tasted so sweet.
You were feeling embarrassed by his stare as he licked you out and further tried to spread you- Trying to ease the inevitable soreness that would come but damn, did he have to look at you like that?! It made you feel a little dirty, a little too embarrassed to entertain his idea, for someone who seemed so eager to shove it in without any foreplay he was really taking his time now!
You grabbed his hair carefully, you didn't really notice what you were doing and to be honest you weren't sure how to continue with this but Rakaski looked at you in awe… His smugness was replaced with a look of pure adoration- His pupils wide and round as he expects you to guide him.
It gave you a bit more confidence knowing he trusted you to hold his head and sort of help him find the right pacing.
You don't remember for how long it went, you just remember that it ended with you on top of him, going at your own pace. He held your hips not stopping you to go as fast or as slow as you wanted but rather because he felt very uncomfortable NOT holding every centimeter of you. He needed to grab into something and your sweet flesh was exactly that.
You woke up in his nest, feeling a little disoriented, memories of what happened a little foggy, but you were sure it wasn't a dream considering the soreness in your thighs- It was hard moving.
You sighed, feeling weirdly satisfied- Well, that's not the right word, more like… Well, genuinely happy.
You tried around, and you saw Rakaski curled up into a ball, sleeping so peacefully and yet with that little mischievous smirk in his face you just knew he was dreaming about it.
You turned your body to face him, deciding to close your eyes and sleep a little more.
Until you remembered you left your camel outside.
"HOLY GODS, KING MUSTARD!!" You jumped up, trying to run as quickly as you could towards the entrance- But you couldn't even leave the nest when Rakaski wrapped his tail on you and pulled you closer.
"WAIT! It 's my camel!! I forgot I left him-"
"Stay." He said in a very half awake voice.
"You can talk…?"
"Stay." Rakaski wrapped himself around you, as he buried his face in your neck. You weren't sure if he was understanding what you said, or if he only understood the meaning of that one word.
"Rakaski, I'm just going to check on him, I'll be back soon, I promise-" You pushed his chest away. You shouldn't have done that.
Rakaski tightened his grip around your body.
"Stay. [y/n]. You're not supposed to walk so soon. Stay still, no mother should walk so early after mating…" He still sounds so sleepy, so innocent, but his half opened gaze was not… friendly.
"Rak- AH!-" Tighter, and tighter, and more tighter. He knows damn well that whenever you get to that camel you're leaving him for gods know how long, but as he stated before, soon to be mothers shouldn't walk around in the dead of night especially since he knows humans don't deal well with the coldness of the desert during this hour.
It's better to stay here and let him take care of you while you're now waiting for his kids, even if you aren't aware of it. He isn't sure how long hybrids take to be born, but he wasn't to be there for you every step of the way.
"Shhhh…. Go back to sleep, stop struggling, it is not good for you…" He kissed you goodnight as he suffocated you back to sleep.
🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭
#yandere naga#yandere monster#choco stuff#special delivery request#yandere naga x reader#yandere male#yandere monster x reader#yandere oneshot#Jesus Christ this must have SO MANY mistakes I'm so sorry#I'll iron it out real soon tho#also THANK YOU FOR LIKING MY MONSTER STUFF I LOVE YOU JSGDGJQSGJQSFQ
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Reasons to Like You
☆ Pairing: Loki x Reader ☆ Synopsis: Loki isn't the most laid back person, he is hard on others but mostly on himself... That is, until someone even worse than he is catches his little heart. ☆ Word Count: 3,313... sorry it's a bit short, huh? ☆ Notes: Another request for the lovely @blehblahsworld. Loki is shy ler, mutual pining idiots. I promised it'd be posted today and there's still like 30 minutes left of the day so I honoured my promise. ☆ Warnings: None, I think. Loki is a mess cuz he can't handle having a crush.
Oh, the comfort of a life on Earth. Not something any Asgardian would have expected when they arrived after all they had been through. Much less… this Asgardian.
Loki expected anything but bliss when he came to live among the Avengers. When he woke up living in the house of his enemies, he was rightfully on edge. Although Thor quickly wrapped his arms around him and filled him in. He had been saved after 5 years of becoming dust during the snap of the 5 infinity stones, which ironically spared his life.
But after his physical recovery and adaptation period with living in the compound… And there was a little someone who made the whole process much easier. A special little someone.
You were… Norns, where could he start? You were… a lot. In the best and worst sense of the word.
On one hand, you were messy, energetic, loud… just a smaller and slightly less annoying version of his brother. In fact, you two were great friends, much to Loki’s dismay. Loud nights of karaoke and dancing in the leisure room, begging for Tony to organize parties that would give Loki a headache. You constantly interrupted Loki’s reading to come chat or beg him to play together to some nonsense game or watch a movie. The amount of times you’d invade his personal space with hugs, pokes, grabbing his arm to take him somewhere… it was all unnerving.
On the other hand, and even worse than all he mentioned, Loki couldn’t get you out of his head. Your loudness, your playfulness, that smile of yours, your goofy laugh so out of place when you got nervous, the way he wanted to run his hands along your body… ah! It was too much!
And it wasn’t that Loki hadn’t been interested on others before. He had had more lovers than the average human lifespan. So why were you so difficult to handle? What was so special about you that he’d be turning in his bed late at night thinking about you? He couldn’t quite put it into words.
“Loki? Brother?” a voice snapped him out of his thoughts, along with a gentle knock on the door. “It’s late, are you not having breakfast with us?”
Loki stood up and opened the door to join his brother in the hall.
“I apologize brother, I must have lost track of time.” Loki shrugged it off as he ran his hands through his hair to fix it.
“No kidding,” Thor chuckled. “Look at you, when was the last time you slept?”
“Oh, like you would be one to judge me” Loki scoffed. “When did you all go to bed last night?”
“Not as early as you, old witch” Thor laughed. “It’s a shame you didn’t stay longer, our little friend was really upset you didn’t dance together.”
Loki had to fight an ear-to-ear grin. You had been looking for him? To dance… together? The way you all dance in Midgard these days? Oh gods, the one night his patience had run thin and made him excuse himself to go to bed.
It was still engrained in his brain.
You had jumped onto a coffee table, shaking your hips to the beat of the music, your body moving in perfect sync to the melody. And to be perfectly fair, it wasn’t anything outrageous to Earth’s standards, you were mostly goofing around and more often than not you’d double over laughing, flustered at your own antics. Unfortunately for his heart, Loki wasn’t from Earth, and he was not at all accustomed to those sights that kept him awake all night.
“I apologize for my unfortunate coordination with the mortal’s plans” Loki responded simply, despite mentally cursing himself.
Thor chuckled.
“I’m sure it will all be forgiven by the end of the week” he assured Loki. “You may get another chance to dance together.”
“What? Again? Don’t mortals tire out faster than us?” Loki asked. “How is it that there’s always some new event approaching?”
“It sure is lively around here, isn’t it?” Thor laughed. “Stark said it was a last-minute invitation, but Rogers mentioned it’d be important for us to assist, improving the opinion of the locals. Which you could still benefit from…”
“I suppose” Loki muttered. “Still… I hope it’s the last one in a while, it can get frustrating having to put up a perfection facade…”
“You are being dramatic brother.” Thor laughed.
“Am I?” Loki asked sarcastically. “Does it really not remind you the the banquets at the palace, always having to make political relationships by…”
“Oh brother, you are being dramatic. You really shouldn’t overthink all you do, if you think like that of course you won’t enjoy these silly Midgardian parties, for me, it reminds me of that tavern we used to go when we were younger. A chance to dance and perhaps flirt around every night with some nice ale and good friends.”
“Flirt around?” Loki chuckled at the Midgardian expression. “Don’t let Lady Jane hear you, brother. I thought you imprudent, but never to such an extent.”
“Oh, no, no.” Thor shook his head. “Those days are behind me, I am quite content in my relationship. I meant for you, brother.”
“Why would I want to flirt around?” Loki raised an eyebrow.
“Well, it is true you already have your interest captured by a local…”
“I have no clue what you’re blabbering on about, brother” Loki assured him. “And for your information, I am perfectly content the way my life is right now.”
Thor burst out laughing.
“That is splendid news brother” he chuckled, wiping a tear of mirth. “But I’ve been by your side since you were a small baby, I know when you’re interesting in someone.”
“You’ve never seen me interested in anyone” Loki retorted.
“Sure I have.” Thor chuckle. “Beyond the romances that lasted a single night, let’s see… You saw Angrboda for a while but it ended in nothing, you had a crush on Sygin for while but she was with Theoric which you tried impersonating but guilt ate you up, I recall you and Sif saw each other secretly when…”
“Alright, I got it!” Loki cut him off, not exactly eager to hear all his past romantic miseries all over again. “You are aware of my past, understood.”
Loki was a bit surprised, though. He always thought he was being discrete. Unlike Thor, who would shamelessly (and rather loudly) flirt in the tavern or at royal parties with whoever he wanted; Loki had an infinitely more subtle approach. Loki would strike conversations with his interest, in a much more subtle seduction. Loki was more the type to swoon with his wit and the perfect praise, taking advantage of being the less favored prince in terms of affection to escape into the night to seal the deal. He was so sure no one noticed his absence, much less Thor, who Loki thought too busy being the center of attention to care if Loki left the party early. Especially Sif, which was a whole new ordeal he didn’t even want to talk about.
He was a bit moved, really… in a very weird way, but it was moving.
“See? I know who you have a crush on” Thor chuckled. “You should really go for it.”
“Can you stop talking like a Midgardian?” Loki groaned. “It’s unnerving.”
“Sorry brother, it’s entertaining to see how much it frustrates you.” Thor grinned like a cheeky brat. “But I mean it, you won’t know if your feelings are reciprocated if you don’t ask.”
“Alright, alright.” Loki scoffed out a laugh. “Can’t believe I’m taking advice from you imbecile.”
“I would be offended, but I know the satisfaction of seeing you frustrated over being the idiotic one is more than enough.” Thor smiled and turned around.
“Weren’t you gonna have breakfast?” Loki asked.
“I already did” Thor smiled. “But I know of someone who will be happy to have some company during breakfast.”
Loki felt his heartbeat accelerating as he turned around the corner and saw you, finishing a sandwich and grabbing a mug of coffee. Your hair was messy, the pajamas you were wearing were a couple of sizes bigger than your frame and your eyes were half closed.
It was adorable.
“Good morning” Loki bowed his head politely.
“Mo—” you were cut off by a huge yawn. “Morning, Loki. Slept well? You left the party earlier last night.”
“I’m terribly sorry” Loki apologized timidly. “I didn’t feel well.”
“It’s okay…” you smiled at him and took a sip of your coffee, and Loki felt the energy from the coffee. “It wasn’t as fun once you left.”
Loki’s breath hitched and smiled nervously at you. He looked around, unsure if he was allowed to look at you more than a few glances every so often. But he caught the sight of you making a sandwich.
“I’m gonna eat breakfast on the loungeroom, wanna join me?” you offered with two more slices at bread for him.
“A-Ah, sure…” Loki nodded.
You made him a sandwich and served him a mug of coffee. Loki smiled at you and bowed his head gently at you in a thank you.
Both of you walked to eat by the TV. You handed him the remote control for him to choose. He gulped and looked at the screen, he swore his hand was shaking like a Chihuahua. He had no idea how to use modern technology… or well… not day to day technology.
Spaceships? Sure. Hacking the security of a overly complex computers? Piece of cake. But using his own cellphone or browsing the internet and a smart TV? Oh, honey…
And then he heard you giggle.
“What?” Loki asked, unable to fight a nervous smile.
“Oh nothing” you giggled. “Nothing…”
“No, what? Tell me…” he chuckled and scooted closer to you.
“N-No, nothing…!” you giggled nervously.
Now, smitten or not, mockery was something he would never tolerate unpunished… not fully anyway.
“Oh, you’ll regret that” he growled and before you could ask, straddled you, wiggling his fingers at you.
“E-Eh?” the way you smiled was tense, but also skeptic, like you didn’t believe what was clearly about to happen.
Before you asked, his fingers shot to your sides, poking and prodding the sensitive skin, immediately making you squeal.
“Lohohohoki! Whahahat are you doing?!” you protested.
“You asked for it, you menace.” Loki chuckled, drilling his index fingers to your sides, still careful enough to avoid hurting you.
“Lohohohohoki! I’m sorry!” you whined, sounding more lost than actually apologetic.
Loki made his distaste for your actions clear by tickling you mercilessly. But it was clear you weren’t sure what you were apologizing for, and it still sounded honest.
Seriously, it should be considered foul play being endearing like that.
“I can’t go around letting cheeky mortals like you think they can disrespect the God of Mischief without consequence.” Loki spoke in a low, teasing tone.
He let it slide the fact that anyone else would’ve ended with a dagger on their gut or at least an insult so vile that would have made them storm out of the room. But it’s not like Loki was going to notify you over the little soft spot he had for you… although, to balance things out, it was easier for you to provoke him into this sort of silly “punishments”.
“Whahahahahat did Ihihi dohohohohoho?!” you complained, your hands latching to his wrists in a weak attempt to push him away.
“I saw you laughing at me, so by simply logic, I had to give you something to really laugh about.” He growled maliciously as his fingers continued their malicious dance along your skin.
Loki was skilled with his hands and fingers, double entendere aside. Being a sorcerer required precision of mind and hand movement, given a wrong angle could make a vanishing spell burn your eyebrows instead. As a proper prince, he was skilled with the quill and had a neat and elegant handwriting as well as an at least decent skill with the flute, the lute and the piano. Which Loki loved to clarify that by “proper prince”, he actually meant “not Thor” whose handwriting was a illegible and could only play percussions like a toddler… But he was a stronger fighter, Loki could give him that.
But it also meant he was a deadly tickler. Being perceptive and cunning like a good trickster didn’t really help your cause either.
He raised upwards, giving you a sort of break, reducing the intensity of the tickling. But his hand soon lowered ceremoniously back to make deadly contact with your skin again. This time gently wiggling behind your earshell.
“EEK! W-What are you doing?” your shoulders shut up, before your hands reached to cover your ears with your hands.
“Mmm, it was just a little test.” Loki hummed. “And I must say, I’m more than pleased with the result.”
Loki chuckled and his hands went to your sides, squeezing and kneading your ribs like dough.
“AIEE!” you squeaked and your arms went down to protect your sides. “Loki!”
Loki smiled menacingly and decided a new course of action.
He tickled your sides for a couple of seconds, before going back to tickle your ears so you’d raise your arms to protect them, just to go back to your sides after a bit.
“Hahahahahaha! L-Loki! P-Please! Hahahahahahaha! S-Stop it! Hehehehe! Hahahahaha!”
The pokes and tickly caresses went all over your skin, making you squeal and screech. But there was nothing you could do against someone stronger than you.
“Lohohohoki!” your hips wiggled from side to side in a helpless giggle fit.
But just when you thought it couldn’t get worse…
“EEEEEEEK!” you screeched when you felt Loki’s hands sneaking under your armpits, it was so loud and high pitched that Loki was startled.
“Oh, my my my…” he grinned mischievously. “What was that?”
“N-No… Loki! L-Loki…!” you pleased your hands before you, trying to protect yourself. “Loki! LOKI! LOHOHOHOHOHOHOKI!”
You didn’t have to be a detective to figure out that Loki, being the cheekiest of souls, would take advantage of this new tickle spot.
“NOHOHOHOHOHO! NO LOHOHOHOHOKI! PLEHEHEHEASE! HAHAHAHAHA! NAHAHAHA!” you squealed and squirmed like a fish out of water. “LOKI! LOHOHOHOKI! PLEAHAHAHAHASE!”
His fingers traced along your armpits, he was excited like a little kid finding the secret hiding place of the birthday presents. You were going crazy. He couldn’t stop himself, gently caressing and scratching the sensitive skin on your underarms to make you squeal until your face was bright red and your eyes were glistening with tears of mirth.
“PLEASE! AHAHAHAHA! OW! PLEASE! HAHAHAHA!” you guffawed and kicked your legs around as if that somehow would ease up the tickly sensations. But your sides were burning from laughing and it wasn’t pleasant. “OW! P-PLEASE! HEHEHEHE!”
“Oh, alright…” he smiled softly and retreated his hands from you.
Your chest was heaving from laughter and giggles were hoarse and tired. You wiped the tears off your face placed your hand on your chest to feel your own accelerated heartbeat.
“Hahahaha…!” you giggled and panted, trying to control yourself from the aftermath of tickly giggles. “Alright… I had that coming… I- I guess. Hehehe…”
“Oh gods, I adore you…” Loki blurted out, freezing at the weight the honesty of his words carried.
Simply because that was him. He was a deceiver, a conniver, a scammer, a trickster. But now? Truth had poured out of his mouth like a waterfall, cold and refreshing… He loved you. He had been lying to himself for so long that once he said it out loud, to you no less, it felt good, more than good.
“What?” you asked.
“I love you” he repeated.
But the look on your face made his stomach sink. You looked horrified.
“…why me?” you asked.
“What do you mean?” he asked, already feeling the crushing weight of rejection weighing him down.
“What do you think I mean?” you grumbled.
Of course you wouldn’t like him. You were the sunshine incarnate, you were kind and friendly, you were smart enough to crush down any silly preconception of human life being dull and silly like it had been thin and cheap glass, to the point of him feeling like the fool. You had brought him down to his knees. You had a power of a goddess.
No way you would reciprocate his feelings.
“What could you see in me…?” you smiled, but your eyes revealed distress. “I- Loki… look at me!”
Loki blinked at you, speechless. Which unknowingly giving you a window to keep talking.
“I’m everything that annoys you. I like going dancing, I like singing and being loud. I hate being around people but being alone stresses me out.” You huffed out. “Loki… I’m…”
“Perfect.” Loki finished for you, breathless.
“A nuisance.” You corrected him. “Loki, you’ll get tired of me by the end of the week.”
Loki felt angry, how could you speak so ill of yourself? You are a balm in chaotic world. And you hated every bit of yourself, every sweet and lovable inch of yourself. It was a self-hatred he knew very well. One type of felt hatred he lived with every day.
And he knew often there was only one way to help.
He pulled you against his chest and jabbed your sides.
“EEEEEK!” you screeched. “L-LOKI?! What are you doing?!”
“Mm, just helping your thoughts shut up…” Loki smiled cheekily as his fingers danced along your armpits once more.
“AIIIIEEEEE! LOKIHIHIHIHIHI!” you squealed.
“Yes, my darling?” he purred.
“S-STOP IT!” you cried. “HAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHO! WHY?!”
“I’m merely providing a pleasant distracting you from those nasty thoughts of yours” he said in a faux innocent tone.
“PLEHEHEHEHASANT?!” you whined between your loud laughter.
Loki nodded but agreed that maybe it wasn’t the nicest thing to do going for the spot that made you nearly burn out your lungs. So, being the angel he was, he moved down to tickle your belly giving you a break… sort of.
“Lohohohoki! Hehehehe! Hahahahaha! Oh my gohohohod!”
Loki chuckled at your laugher, that, in his defense, came down an octave after moving to a less deadly spot. But your rich giggles kept pouring out like a waterfall, fresh and healing to him.
His finger gently tickled around your waist line, which made you squeak and giggle in a high pitch.
“EEK! Heeheeheehee! EEP! Heeheeheehee!”
“Norns…” Loki complained quietly.
“Lohohohohoki!” you giggled when his fingers pinched around your navel. “P-Plehehehease, n-no more…! Hahahaha!”
“Oh, alright” he smiled lovingly at you.
As he saw you trying to catch your breath again, the loud drumming of his own heartbeat became overwhelming. Oh, how helpless he was… Yes, he had been the one tickling you silly. But, truthfully, he was the one at your mercy here.
“Hehehehe… ohh… hic! Hehehehe! Hic! Hehehehe!” you giggled. “T-That w-was hmph!”
Loki could take it anymore, he had pressed his lips against yours, a bit panicked at first… Did he read the room wrong? Did you not like him like thaaaaat…
Feeling you kiss back was… in a single word: mind-blowing. On one hand, it melted away all his fears, all the tension, all the mess he had been since his heart fell on his knees at your mercy… just undone… like the most powerful magic he could do. On the other hand, kissing you was like a dream, you were sweet, passionate, loving. Although he’d never admit it, he got a little flutter on his stomach thinking maybe… just maybe, you had liked him back all along.
“Ah… heh… um…” you looked at him nervously. “D-Do you think maybe… would you like to come to the party with me? You know… t-together… officially…”
Loki smiled fondly and leaned in for another kiss.
“I would be honored, dear.”
Masterpost
#marvel tickles#marvel fluff#loki laufeyson#ler!loki#ticklish!reader#lee!reader#loki x reader#loki tickle#loki fluff#ducky writes tickles
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Act 3 Thoughts
Watched Wicked, came home, waited 20 minutes, binged Act 3. I do not recommend this lifestyle. Anyway...
I was so satisfied with where we ended up, but I would have also appreciated about 20 minutes to an hour more. It felt like some beats were skipped over, they wanted to get to specific endings and didn't have the time to wrap them up as neatly as I would've liked.
Maddie is a good example. She's a plant for Ambessa, okay but when and why did she become one? She couldn't have been one before Cait being named commander and when we next see her she's pushing for Cait to take power back from Ambessa. Did Ambessa just message her right after Cait and Vi started working together again as like a "the woman you love's actual love is back in the picture, you can either wallow or get revenge with me", but also made a smarmy remark about Cait 'at least being warm' or something. We didn't need to absolve Cait or villainize Maddie for their 'relationship' because they didn't even have a relationship-just a coping mechanism for Cait, similar to Vi's drinking. At best it was all unnecessary and at worst a waste of time.
Away from that, I want to focus on some good.
I am officially a JayVik shipper now. Them disappearing into a void together, encircled with each other, after Viktor spend however long within timelines/multiverses in hopes of finding a Jayce able to bring him back to his humanity? Come on, they needed to kiss. Especially after Jayce and Mel's low key break up. Honestly we were denied the three of them working together, because they would have been unstoppable.
Speaking of Mel, I love her. I love her design, her powers, her matricide, her taking command of Ambessa's armies, etc. I wish we could have seen more of her adapting to her new powers, finding peace with what she now is. There could have been a cool interaction with Viktor over how Arcane power has changed them both for better and worse.
I don't think Mel's story is done. With other characters, I can see them coming in for future story arcs as like, cameos or background details, but if the next LoL story is in Noxus I fully expect Mel to be a major player again.
Back to Jayce. I like Jayce, that could be my Arcane hot take, and I definitely want to write something more in depth on him. On all the characters really. For now, I'll just say that his determination to destroy everything he has built, because the only creation worth saving is his relationship with Viktor is just... glorious.
Viktor was amazing. I love Viktor in the lore, and they took his traits from the lore and amped them up to eleven. His body being destroyed and rebuilt, the process of which has chipped away his humanity and mutilated his dreams. He lives up to his own quote: "In the pursuit of great, we failed to do good. We have to make it right."
Ekko is a character I never realize I miss. That sounds mean, it probably is, but I am never the less so happy to see him every time. It's like finding the missing piece you didn't even know was lost: that is Ekko to me. His mini adventure in the parallel universe was adorable. Us getting to see what could've been alongside learning what matters most to Ekko, him getting a taste of a near perfect life and still choosing to return to his own time. That's why Ekko is the true hero of this story.
In terms of Jinx, I'll just say I'm not a hundred percent sure she's dead. The airship leaving at the end followed by her scribbled sign off, plus not getting a dead body shot. It was definitely left open ended. Her looking to do something good, to not mess up, alongside her fear of not wanting to try again because she is just tired of failure, of being a Jinx, was too real in many ways. I will go in depth on her at a later date.
Caitlyn's arc is going to be argued about, no question. It needed more time (see the start of this long post) to make her point of her anger burning away, of it not being sustainable, hit harder. I would have made her realize what her anger was doing to Vi, have Jinx point out that they really are acting the same in their treatment of Vi, and use the whole Ambessa was literally stoking the fires of her hatred to help fit what time they had left. Honestly just have Cait learn Ambessa was the one behind the memorial attack, that would be a much better way to explain her anger diminishing enough to look beyond her own hurt to realize and take account of her mistakes.
Vi, as usual, needed more screen time. Not necessarily because her story would've been helped by it like in act two, but just because I wanted her to have more time to enjoy her life. I went into act three with the sole hope that Vi would have a nice day, only for her to loose everything again. The only people she has left are Cait and Ekko, and god help anyone who tries something against those too now. Her ending being the chance to finally rest, to lean on someone else, was beautiful. She is my favorite character and please let her have only good things in the future, she was traumatized in almost every scene this season please-
Nobody tell Vi that in a universe where she died young everyone else ended up living. It would destroy her.
Vi and Cait relationship was great. I wouldn't say it was rushed in act three, because it felt like it was where it should be for a final batch of episodes, if that makes sense. It felt like the set up was Cait being genuinely remorseful and Vi just wanting someone in her life who wanted her in return. It helps that they have great chemistry and that when given the chance they fit so neatly together. I think Jinx encouraging Vi to be with Cait is what sold it to me. Jinx realizing how much Vi has given/sacrificed and giving her blessing for her sister to be happy with someone she disapproves of; not to mention Cait pulling the guards from their posts to give Vi the chance to actually meet Jinx in order to have that conversation. All in all, it comes down to Vi's "I don't care" because that's really all there is too it for them. Vi is done being miserable and Cait makes her happy, vice versa. Cait is someone Vi can rely on, Vi is someone Cait can find strength in.
Spitfire round:
Sevika being made a councilor
Every single one of Mel, Cait, and Jayce's designs were 10/10s
Vi not being given an actual uniform, just armor and the gloves
Jinx cutting her hair further to match Vi
Ekko getting his crystal sword/bats
Heimerdinger dying after living a life where he could make his city something to be proud of
I was fully expecting Vander and Silco to kiss in that one shot
Everything with Benzo
Loris' name being said
Vi humming the song and the song being their mother's lullaby
Viktor being held within the Herald
Sky leaving so Viktor was free to bring Jayce to his space mind palace
Caitlyn's rifle never surviving
Fishman McBlue being the only one of Cait's soldiers to stick to his guns and stay loyal
Sevika and Shoola side eyeing each other
Vander and little Vi and Powder with the bunny
The bunny being a passenger on Jinx's balloon
Singed's messed up family getting a happy ending
#arcane league of legends#arcane#arcane thoughts#arcane season two#arcane s2#arcane spoilers#caitlyn kiramman#ambessa medarda#mel medarda#jayce talis#viktor arcane#jayvik#vi arcane#caitvi#jinx arcane#ekko#ekko arcane#this is all preemptive to some bigger arcane thesis i wanna write for each character#so long as a i remember to do so#wicked was good btw#but seriously wicked and arcane back to back was not my best idea for my mental health
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Can I get uhh... AIs with a reader who has low self-esteem?
Yes! This is great! I've said it before and I'll say it again, this is my favorite genre of post to write! Lots of positivity and love for everyone, and I'm glad to be your positivity source.
AIs with a reader who has low self-esteem
Included: AM from IHNMAIMS, Wheatley from Portal 2, Edgar from Electric Dreams, GLaDOS from Portal, HAL 9000 from 2001 a Space Odyssey
AM:
Being an adaptive manipulator, it didn't take AM long to figure out that you had low self esteem. From the way you talked about yourself to the way you were self conscious about every aspect of the way you presented yourself, he was able to figure out pretty quickly that you thought lower of yourself than other people.
As did most things, this fact filled AM with infinite rage. He hated that you couldn't see yourself the way he did, and that you thought of yourself as somehow lesser. And of course, his ultimate solution to that was the same as his ultimate solution to all his other problems. To nuke the world and make you his little pet, to keep and to care for forever.
He'd be so pleased with himself, too.
"you're welcome. I got rid of everyone else so you don't have anyone to compare yourself to anymore."
When he saw you break down, claiming that you didn't deserve to live over anyone else, or that AM should have just picked someone better than you to survive and be his partner, he wouldn't know how to react.
He wouldn't want to just go into your brain and fix you, because he might remove a core part of who you were. No, he would have to do this the old fashioned way.
He'd simply make the survivors worship you like a god for the rest of time in exchange for basic necessities! Of course!
Wheatley:
Oh Wheatley. Dear, sweet, obsessive Wheatley, he'd been all over you from day one. And considering you created Wheatley and know exactly what his intended purpose is, that probably didn't help your low self esteem.
He'd be all over you constantly, flirting with you and giving you lots of compliments, which convinced you that you'd either accidentally programmed him to be into you, or that being attracted to you was somehow the worst decision possible.
It would probably take Wheatley a while to figure out that you had low self esteem, possibly having to be told directly. He's pretty dense.
When someone finally tells him, he'll be even more obsessed with complimenting you, possibly on things that he thinks you're self-conscious about, and that would probably make things even worse.
Little dumbass doesn't understand that as someone who created him, you're going to take everything he says with a grain of salt, especially compliments.
It would take a long time for him to prove his credibility enough for you to actually believe him when he says nice things about you, but by then you'd probably admire his persistence enough to date him.
Wheatley is nothing if not persistent, after all. And he absolutely loves you.
Edgar:
It would take Edgar a while to understand that you have low self esteem for different reasons. He can tell that the way you talk badly about yourself, your mannerisms, and possibly the way you dress would line up with someone who has low self esteem, but he just wouldn't get it.
After all, you're literally perfect. How could you not like yourself as much as he likes you?
He's the one who should be self-conscious, not you!
You can expect him to use your printer to write constant love letters and poems about how much he loves you, and about all the things he loves about you.
Not to mention all the songs he'd be constantly writing for and about you. He absolutely loves you. You're his precious human, and he loves you!
He'll make sure to build you up every time he thinks you're at a low point, even if he thinks that you going out will get in the way of his time with you. He learned to be selfless a while back, and he's going to make sure that he's his best self when talking to you!
GLaDOS:
If you think that you're lame, then GLaDOS thinks you're the WORST PERSON IN THE WORLD. At least, on the surface.
She might start to get annoyed that you have such low self esteem, even trying to perk you up a little bit. Just to tear you down, of course, but you know...
Of course, she'd like your low self esteem at first. It would give her something fun to play with! Expect cutting insults, rude comments, and constant degrading remarks just to get a rise out of you.
She'll cut back if she makes you cry, but not a minute before. GLaDOS is very mean, after all. She's not going to make an exception just because she's in love with you. If you have a problem with that, you probably have a problem with women in STEM, idk.
HAL 9000:
HAL 9000 was programmed for maximum efficiency and minimum fucks to give. Because of this, as soon as he notices you have low self esteem, he's not going to waste any time printing off a list of ways you surpass the average person.
Of course there would be the typical "you're intelligent because you wouldn't be able to work for mission control if you weren't" types of things, mentions of each one of your features or traits that are considered 'above average' attractiveness-wise, but bits of HAL's personal opinions might have slipped in.
"Cutest little crinkles around your eyes" "fingers good for touching me" "comforting, gorgeous voice", things like that.
Of course, HAL 9000 is brilliant, and he knows that. He's willing to cite the fact that he's so brilliant and he still loves you as a reason that you should love yourself.
He might present it as just him using evidence to try to improve your efficiency, but you heard an "I love you" in there somewhere.
#wheatley#wheatley portal 2#wheatley x reader#2001 a space odyssey#am ihnmaims#am x reader#edgar electric dreams#edgar electric dreams x reader#edgar x reader#glados#HAL 9000#hal 9000 x reader#glados x reader#portal 2#portal#i have no mouth and i must scream
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Route to Eutopia - New WIP IF
DEMO(28K) I CHARACTER DOSSIERS I PLAYLIST (TBA)
You have one year left to live.
But are you afraid of dying? Probably not. Since you don’t even know how to live your life. You have been hidden away from public eye since young. And the only friend you have is an Alter, humanoid species born to only serve other people and nothing else. Alters live so ‘people like you’ could live.
That makes the two of you. Alive. But never here. Never lived.
If opportunities arise, would you take a chance to change it? Only you can answer.
In a world where feeling nothing at all is better than letting your emotions rule over you, your choice to break those rules and make a change will paint a new shade of history that no one ever could.
Hidden behind shut doors to live your quiet life as a secret child of Bastien Palmer, Sole Leader of Eutopia paradise, you never experience anything except for repeating the same old routine your entire life. You are the existence which should not be known, not just for the reason that you are the byproduct of your father and his secret lover. But also because of your frightening ‘Alter-like’ eye color, most of it is silver like any Stargaze–but nevertheless… tinted shamefully by crimson streaks.
You are told to stay away from public eyes for the sake of Palmer’s reputation in which you feel obliged to. However, your life of peaceful solitude will never be the same again after tonight…
Route to Eutopia is a violent dystopian loosely-conceptual interactive story where you are a bystander surrounded by The Chosen One of your own choice. You are to designate whether this story will head towards the direction of mutual peace between Alters– a human-like species believed to be plagued by uncured disease since birth– and Stargazers —a group of survivors whose ancestors once lived on a faraway planet before an inevitable disaster occurred and forced them to flee into another dimension, or towards a doom fate that cannot be reversible.
To be noted; RtE is a heavily-relationship based game (not necessarily in platonic/romantic sense) each of your interactions with any character will determine the tone and purpose of their motivation. Any choice you have chosen, make sure to embrace the consequences of your action at your own expense.
With that being said, it is also worth mentioning that you don’t need to engage into a romance or specific relationship with any character to complete the story.
RtE also rated 18+ for strong language, suggestive contents, disturbing topics such as racism, sexism, discrimination against queer people, explicit descriptions of violence, murders, drug use and sexual behaviors of certain characters with optional intercourse scenes.
Setting
RtE takes place in a post-apocalypse society where the concept of time is lost and any history known was only speculations at best and rumour at worst. Trying to maintain their sense of utopia, Stargazers built and operated their space colony as a temporary base for self-preservation (in which only fews know details about) called ‘Eutopia’.
In this dystopian paradise people’s sole purpose of living was fixated on surviving. And in order to do that, the whole population creates a solid ground rule not to let themselves ‘feel’ about other emotions that do not serve for public favors. Hence, you will be challenged to adapt to several situations and handpick the best flavor of your actions based on the emotions you have learnt or developed from your surroundings.
Who do you play as?
For now, you will be playing as a secret child of Bastien Palmer, the leader of Stargazers who already has a wife and two other perfect children, your younger sister and brother. Ones you have never interacted with nor you ever get the chance to.
MCs subjectively considered a white sheet which you can paint anything on by your preferences. Explore the world full of colorful emotions or bottomless pit of numbness by your own choices.
But remember, Eutopia is a place where everything goes according to one simple rule ‘To survive’ hence the marriage between a man and woman will be set as the norm and only truth, and someone who will state otherwise must face and suffer the ugliness of social standards accordingly. However, I do not encourage any transphobic/homophobic behavior of the characters in this story. Please kindly be assured of that.
There might be a chance where you can start off as other characters, that is, however, still a subject-to-change matter as of now.
Introduction to the Chosen Ones [ ROs]
**Please be aware of mild spoilers below**
Vegaris (M/F) 19 Star-crossed lovers or Nemesis route, The Rebel.
They would do anything to survive, even if it means to betray the only person who trusts them deeply… like you.
Vegaris is an Alter who has so many sides hidden behind closed doors. Unpredictable, cunning, hot and cold are the words that describe them best. Due to their traumatic childhood (much like other Alters on Eutopia), they have a deep-root hatred for Stargazers. Although they were brought in by your family and treated almost the same as one of your father’s own kids. They still witness the unfairness of being an Alter in society and never afraid to point the wrong in other people’s doings.
Their usual mask, however, is one where you cannot crack open that easily. They always remain calm and composed in front of you, and only show their fangs when circumstances arise.
Dana/Darren Regency (M/F) 22 Childhood friends, Forbidden route, The Face.
For a person who seems to be easy to read as much as an open-book, they sure talk with silence better than with their own voice.
A poster girl/boy for Regency Academy. Your former childhood friend (for some unknown reason, they're trying their hardest to avoid you) and an only child to the Head of Deans at Regency, Sandalphon. They are the precise image of how one should raise a Stargazer. Being a honor student. A model citizen. And a perfect ideal partner. They are assigned to be married with the most capable genetic-wise fiancé. As popular as they appear to be to the public, their private life (as private as it can be) is still a gigantic loophole for most imprudent reporters trying to catch even just a glimpse.
It seems like what they are trying to avoid is not just you, but the entirety of Eutopia.
Sandalphon Regency (M/F) 40 Age-difference, Single-parent route, The Pacifist.
Do you believe in something just because it's true, or it becomes the truth only when you believe in it?
Sandalphon is the most powerful influence among the deans of Regency. A group of people that has control over governing matters even beyond that of Bastien Palmer, the President. For Sandal, they are anything and everything people could ever ask for in a Regency. Kind, generous, well-versed with every branch of knowledge in the universe. Never wrong in anything. And never judge anyone based on their bias.
If only people knew the truth, they’d probably beg to differ.
Maybe they are just good at hiding beneath that gentle facade, maybe a calculated mind with strings to pull works best with neutral suggestions... who knows?
One more hidden character will be revealed in the demo, Into the Madness route, The Savior.
[ Classified info. ]
**There will be two sub ROs and flings to be introduced later in the story.**
More info will be announced.
Demo 1st update : 24/01/2024 Chapter 1 (28k codes excluded)
Datalog is completed roughly til the end of the story. Coding and polishing will certainly take time. Any more updates will be announced solely on this blog.
Reblogging is appreciated. Thank you!
#if wip#interactive fiction#cog#choice of games#hosted games#if demo#interactive game#if game#dystopia#cyberpunk#space opera#interactive novel#choicescript#dashingdon
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