#mY FIRST EDIT FOR THESE BOIS THAT ISN'T PART OF A CHALLENGE

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hello Miss Raven!!!

First of all, I wanna tell you I'm a great fan of your work, it helps me understand better a world that I love, so please don't stop doing it!

Secondly, I wanna know if you know of the existence of the 34 pages long essay of L*ona and your opinion on it due to the love-hate relationship you have with him.

Thank you once again for all that you do and I hope you have a really great year!!!!!

AAaaAAAAaAHHhhhHHHH, thank you for your kind words!! I've had my ups and downs with this fandom, but for the most part I've enjoyed my time here and very much intend to stick around~ Before I get to my thoughts, I'd like to give credit to @/arledrone, who I believe is the owner and author of said 34-page L*ona document! Thanks for penning this all the way back in... what, 2022?? For us to rediscover and read now in 2025 ^^

First thing's first, the document is actually quite old, so obviously there's a lot of materials missing (the Savanaclaw manga, light novel, the completed book 6, all the book 7 content, the new and relevant events/cards/voice lines/vignettes that have come out since then, etc. I'm of the belief that we don't necessarily need to look at this, as the point of the document seems to be pointing out Leona's very slow growth (and sometimes regression back to his worst traits) over the course of the content that was avaliable up until the point of the document's publication.

I won't bore you by regurgitating everything in the document; I'll just point at some things I found notable!

For the most part, I agree with the broad strokes and general interpretations of how Leona's character is presented. He's very complex and you often have to look beyond what he's initially claiming because he has ulterior motives or intentionally tries to act tough to conceal his own insecurities and vulnerabilities. (However, I did find the document a little difficult to follow in the beginning because it kind of felt like meandering with no clear topic or order of topics being established, just several paragraphs of listing Leona's traits without giving concrete examples to back them up? I guess the examples were provided eventually... still, I feel the document could have been edited and condensed a bit. The flow improved considerably when we got into summarization of the vignettes, book 2, and events.)

OP made very similar points as myself, such as saying that Leona isn't specifically after the crown, but what the crown represents (though this conclusion is common among L*ona fans). I was pleasantly surprised to even see them proposing that how others view Leona negatively may even be self-imposed--I had suggested the same thing a few years ago, but haven't seen this idea (or this particular phrasing) gain traction. I think my favorite parts of the document were comparing and contrasting Leona's reactions to criticism (in his School Uniform vignette vs in Fairy Gala). Vil appears as a major point of contention in both and serves as an excellent obstacle to challenge the arrogant and hard-headed Leona. I've compared the two before, and I think that helps to explain why Vil and Leona so often clash. Vil's the perfect person to go toe-to-toe with Leona, call him out for his BS, and push him to "be better". Fans frequently complain about how it feels like the OB boys didn't change significantly following their books--but they have, and they are, you just have to be willing to do the work to dig it up because the main story alone is not sufficient. It's a subtle thing, 'blink and you'll miss it' moments. All the main story can do is tell you "Leona is now consistently training with his team" and, "Leona is now getting off his ass to pitch in with physical labor". Book 6 certainly did a good job of showing us his development, but a lot of it I wager is personal reflection, and that's not going to always be easy to spot of manifest in a tangible, easy-to-see way, especially given how little we interact with the guy directly. We should be more cognizant that character change can happen off-screen (ie not in the main story) and outside of the presence of Yuu, and is not automatic or done in huge leaps. I think I would have liked it if Leona's minor roles were also touched on, but I understand why they were left out. It's a lot of information to look through, and there was less value in events like Beans Day, Ghost Marriage, etc. compared to instances where he was far more proactive. I'd argue that the times where he doesn't feature as a main character serve to characterize him a lot as well (and thus have their value) though; he uses his cunning to find an "easy way" to victory (even if it ended up failing in the end), he gets competitive with Vil over something he doesn't even care about due to his deeply rooted superiority complex, etc.

That about summarizes my thoughts! Apologizes if it was short, it was tough to really comment on stuff since at that point I’d only be repeating what’s written in the document.

[cheynovak]

TikTok Trouble

Jensen Ackles x Y/N f/reader girlfriend

English isn't my first language.

Did not proof read, mistakes are possible

This amazing idea/ request is from @deanwinchestersgirl8734

'Hi do you think when you get time you could do a story about Jensen finding out his wife or girlfriend reader was making secret TikTok videos about him and his characters and liking others videos on TikTok lol"

Please do not copy my work. likes/sharing/comments are appreciated

The roaring energy of the convention was intoxicating. Jensen was seated on stage alongside Jared, basking in the enthusiastic chatter of their fans. As the Q&A portion unfolded, Jensen caught snippets of laughter and whispers among the audience that left him curious.

A fan with a devilish grin stepped up to the mic, clutching their phone.

“Hi Jensen, hi Jared!” they beamed. “Okay, this is a little different. So Jensen, have you seen Y/N’s TikToks?"

The question hit Jensen like a freight train. His brows knitted together in confusion, his lips parting slightly. “Her TikToks?" he repeated. "Wait…she’s on TikTok? What…what kind of TikToks?"

Jared burst into laughter beside him, throwing his head back as if he’d been holding in the knowledge for weeks. "Oh, man, you haven’t seen them? Dude, they’re hilarious!"

Jensen’s ears flushed a faint shade of red as the fan’s grin widened.

“Um, so Y/N has been making these really fun videos about you and your characters. And also…she, uh, likes edits and stuff that people make of you. She even…” The fan trailed off with a giggle, holding their phone up. “Want me to show you one?”

Jensen leaned forward with intrigue. “You better show me now, because clearly, I’m the last to know!”

The fan swiped through their phone and played a video. On the screen, there was Y/N, subtly filming from the corner of the makeup trailer. Jensen was seated in the chair, half in-character, as the crew styled his hair.

The camera then panned dramatically to him. She overlaid a dog ear and tongue filter and captioned it with: “Who's mommy's good boy, you are! Yeah you are!"

Followed by a video of him in a hydrating mask. "Babe... What are you doing." Jensen asks jokingly "I'm batman."

"Of course babe... I support you!"

The crowd roared with laughter while Jensen’s jaw dropped. He let out a strangled laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “Oh my God, that woman! That���that sneaky…”

Jared, not helping in the slightest, chimed in. “Oh, wait, the best one's coming. Show him the Walker one!”

The fan gleefully skipped to another video. It was Y/N’s most recent post: on the set of Walker, where Jensen had been directing. The video began with a close-up of Jared leaning casually against a truck, all smoldering Texan charm.

“Hot damn!" Y/N narrated jokingly. Jared turned his head, raising an eyebrow, clearly aware of the filming. With a playful grin and exaggerated Texan drawl, he said, “Want to hop in my truck for a ride, sugar?”

Y/N’s laugh echoed through the video as she turned the camera so she could join in. “Hmm, I don’t know, Jared," she teased, tilting her phone to capture more of his smirk. “Think your truck can handle all this?”

Jared leaned closer to her and the camera, his grin widening. “Darlin’, my truck’s seen plenty of rough rides, but you might just be the challenge it’s been waiting for.”

The audience erupted in cheers and laughter, completely eating up the playful banter. Y/N’s laugh rang out in the video again as she panned the camera away from Jared, who was still smirking behind her.

“Nah, I’m saving my ride for that man," she quipped, and the camera panned dramatically over to Jensen, looking sharp as ever in his cowboy attire. As she got closer to him, she joked, “Save a horse, I’ll ride that cowboy," and winked at the camera.

Jensen groaned, burying his face in his hands as Jared cackled beside him. The audience was in hysterics.

“Oh my God, she’s going to be the death of me,” Jensen said, voice muffled from his hands.

“Nah, you love it,” Jared teased, clapping his shoulder. “Just admit it—she’s out there making sure you’re appreciated by the entire internet.”

Jensen straightened, his eyes glittering with a mix of amusement and faux indignation. “Yeah, well, I guess I need to have a talk with my girlfriend about sneaking around on set with her phone.”

The fan couldn’t resist adding, "She’s basically your biggest fan, though! You can’t be mad!"

Jensen smirked, folding his arms. “Oh, I’m not mad. But let’s just say, if she’s going to film me…she better be ready for some payback.”

The fans erupted in cheers, already anticipating the behind-the-scenes TikTok war that was bound to ensue.

--

Taglist -> Click here to add

@jackles010378 @libby99hb @winchesterwild78 @suckitands33 @mostlymarvelgirl @deans-baby-momma @ancles @tulipsvanilla

@thesilmarillionblog @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @kr804573 @kamisobsessed @hobby27 @globetrotter28 @kindollss

@muhahaha303 @shadysoulangel @lyarr24 @spxideyver @impala67rollingthroughtown @panickedbitch @deansimpalababy

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@ariasong11 @lmpala1967 @sherlockstrangewolf

[x-press-it]

Devilish Desires - 7/8

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

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

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

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

Content Warnings (for the whole story): Smut 18+ (Dry humping, Edging, Unprotected p in v.) - Dom!Logan into Sub!Logan - Pet Names (Good boy, pretty boy, pet, pup, amongst others...) reversed age gap (Logan is younger) - OC Notes: Established name, backstory, powers, fighting style, female body but gender fluid character (Logan misgender them at first because he doesn't know, even in the descriptions) - Mention of other character from the MCU and subtle references to the comics for flavor (not mandatory to understand what is happening) - Flash back and mention of past trauma - Very quick mentions of drugs - Fluff with Dark Undertones: Emotional tension and possessive affection - Worship Themes: Religious imagery, reverent language and awe - Ancient Mysticism: References to otherworldly or demonic presence - Mental Health: Power dynamics, personal vulnerabilities - Trope: Rivals to lovers.

I'm back after 10 years of iatus and fairly new to how things are done on tumblr now, so sorry if I missed any warnings. Also english isn't my first language so there might be typos/weird sentences...

Notes: Got very inspired by sub!Logan and repeated listening of "Between wind and water" by Hael. Cover made with canva from an idea I got from this post. If you know who made the picture, tell me so I can credit them - Click on the divider to find the creator. Also this was meant to be an imagine turned into a full story. Just so you know, some chapters are very short, other are long. I'm in the process of editing/writing/rewriting parts so I'll post a chapter everytime I have one fully edited.

I kept getting derailled by stuff but El Famoso Chapter 7 (as my hubby has been calling it those last weeks) is finally done T^T I think my ADHD brain doesn't want me to finish this story because once it's done, it's done and I'll have to say goodbye to Ezekiel and this Logan. Regarding the poll I made about male x male smut, as the results were mixed, if I write anything between Logan and Zeek, I'll make this a bonus scene. Okay, people, it's time to feed the hunger again :)

Need some music? I've got you

Previously: in Devilish Desires

Chapters: 7/8

Word Count: 12.4K / 60K+ for now

E opened their eyes as the ray of the sun stroked their skin. The golden light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. Next to them, Logan was still sleeping, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, his expression peaceful—more so than E had ever seen since their first encounter in that tense hallway weeks ago.

They let their gaze roam over the lines of his face, memorizing every detail: the scruff along his jaw, the way his lashes rested against his cheek, and how his tousled hair fell messily across his brow, lending him an almost boyish look. The sight stirred a rare, warm smile from E, a glimmer of something fragile and cherished flickering within them.

Despite the contentment that coursed through their veins, a seed of resolve pressed at the back of their mind, they didn’t want to disturb him, nor did they want him to wake up alone, with only the ghost of their presence left in the warmth of the sheets. But time wasn’t on their side, as the rest of the mansion was about to awaken.

E brushed their fingers lightly along Logan’s arm, feeling the solid muscle shift beneath their touch even as he slept, the faint brush of their fingers drawing a soft, instinctive hum from him. Slowly, his eyes cracked open, still heavy with the haze of sleep.

The sharp alertness that often defined him flickered briefly before his gaze landed on them. Almost immediately, his features softened, the edge of wariness melting into something softer.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice rough and hoarse, but so low it felt like a quiet confession.

E’s lips curved in a small, tender smile. Something in his tone, softer than anything they’d ever expected from him, made their old, dusty heart stutter in their chest. For all the years they’d walked the earth, never had they been spoken to in such a way.

“Hey,” they responded in kind, voice almost shy as their eyes traced his features—the rugged lines of his face, the way his hair stuck up slightly, the barest hint of something unguarded in his expression.

Logan shifted slightly, his arm flexing beneath their touch, though he made no move to pull away. “Leavin’ already?” he asked, the whisper still rough but edged with something else—an unspoken reluctance, maybe, or the wish to hold onto this fleeting moment a little longer.

E leaned in, their lips brushing against his temple. “Wouldn’t want people to find out they’re right about us, would we?” Their voice was tinged with light humor, but the reference to Scott’s pointed remarks during the trial still lingered between them. The subtle accusation—that it was easy for lovers to fight in sync—now felt like he had seen right through them, and they both didn’t like that.

Logan’s face turned thoughtful, a shadow of concern settling over his features. “Is there anything we can do about it?” he asked, the question heavy with the understanding that staying under the radar was going to become increasingly difficult in the days yet to come. “Turn their feelings around, maybe?”

“There might be a solution,” E said, their tone serious. “But you’re not going to like it.”

He frowned, curiosity mingled with caution. “Go on, lay it out.”

“We act like something happened between us,” they explained, eyes flickering with a hint of reluctance. “Something bad. We make them believe we can’t stand each other anymore.” They paused, studying Logan’s reaction. “It has to be convincing, Logan. Real mean. We’ll need to sell it, even if it means hurting each other in the process.”

Logan exhaled slowly, the tension in his jaw tightening as the weight of the plan settled on him. “You’re right—I don’t like it. But I see how it could work.” His eyes met theirs, resigned but resolute. “If you’re game, I’m in.”

A small smile, bittersweet and fleeting, crossed E’s lips as they leaned in and kissed his cheek. “We may have to do it more than once.”

“Yeah,” Logan said with a heavy nod. “The more we do it, the more convincing it’ll look.”

They sat in the stillness that followed, letting the warmth between them linger just a moment longer before the masks would have to come on and the distance between them would become painfully real.

The silence in the room grew heavier, the weight of what they were about to do settling over them. In a rare moment of connexion, E reached for Logan’s fingers, the tips of their own brushing against his in a soft, tentative dance. Logan’s response was immediate; he closed his hand around theirs, the warmth a brief comfort against the cold edge of reality.

“It’s a difficult time to go through,” they murmured. Their voice, barely above a whisper, carried the tremor of uncertainty. They tried to sound reassuring, though the words were as much for themselves as for him. “We need to focus on the moments we’ll be alone. Let’s not let ourselves get lost in our own lies.”

Logan nodded, his thumb moving in slow circles, brushing gently over the back of their hand. His expression was raw, the look on his face saying everything words couldn’t—the pain of what lay ahead, the quiet acceptance of it, and the unyielding resolve to shield them, even if it meant taking the fall himself.

The hurt, etched into the hard lines of his face, was a reflection of everything E felt. They both knew this was the quickest way to shift the tide, to keep E safe from the suspicion tightening around them like a noose. And if it meant bearing the brunt of it, he would—because of the fierce, protective feeling blazing in his chest, but also because he trusted them.

E let out a heavy sigh, their lips pressing into a thin line before they smoothed back the strands of his hair with their free hand, fingers brushing through the dark mess. They were about to speak when Logan’s head turned slightly, his ears twitching as he picked up the faint sound of running water. It came from the direction of Kurt’s room, judging by the echo through the walls.

Logan’s gaze shifted back to them, softer now but edged with urgency. He brought their hand to his lips, pressing a gentle, lingering, kiss to their knuckles. “You have to go,” he said, voice low and reluctant. “People are starting to wake up.”

E exhaled deeply again, the air leaving their mouth almost trembling, but they nodded. They leaned forward, pressing their forehead against his in a quiet, intimate gesture that said everything they couldn’t put into words.

“See you around, pretty boy,” they whispered, the familiar teasing lilt in their voice dulled by the reality of what was to come.

Logan gave a small nod in return, the reluctance in his eyes mirrored by the heaviness in his chest. The thought of what they were about to do—the lies they’d weave to protect their arrangement—made the air between them feel sharper, more fragile.

He watched as they slipped out of the room, the emptiness they left in their wake pressing down on him like a weight he couldn’t shake. It was a stinging sense of loss, one he knew would linger long after the door closed behind them.

Once he found himself alone, he rose from the bed, the space around him cool and empty in the absence of E. Their scent lingered faintly in the room, and his heart ached with want—no, the need—to see them, to have them against him, to touch them.

What was happening to him? Was he that far gone already? Wrapped around their little finger? His head felt foggy, exhaustion creeping in at the edges of his awareness, adding to the strange weight pressing against his chest. He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to clear his thoughts, willing the heaviness away before heading to the bathroom.

The steady patter of water as he showered grounded him, but it did little to clear the memories that crowded his mind. E’s teasing smile, their eyes dancing with mischief; the way they’d pushed and pulled at him the night before, challenging him yet surrendering with a trust so deep it shook him to his core.

The thought of it sent warmth coursing through him, a pulse that beat in time with the thrum of the water. They had told him they were a giver—always putting others first. For so long, they hadn’t allowed themselves to be selfish, maybe not ever. Only once in their long, lonely existence.

But with him, they had.

That truth sank into him, mingling with a sense of awe that twisted into longing. He knew a thing or two about keeping things—instincts, urges, emotions—in check for years, decades, centuries even. The weight of being chosen by someone who, like him, had kept their guard so high for so long was something he felt with every fiber of his soul, making him shiver with pride.

He’d known satisfaction before, shared heated moments with countless partners over the span of nearly two centuries—men and women, different faces and places—but this… this had struck deeper than he thought possible.

Rinsing the shampoo from his hair, Logan let out a breath that fogged the glass wall of his shower. His mind replayed the previous night, as if on loop: the way E had looked at him, unguarded and raw; how their movements had mirrored a kind of surrender that words couldn’t touch.

That feeling of being seen and wanted—not just as a weapon, not just as a mutant or a means to an end, but as himself. Whole. Flawed. It was dangerous, intoxicating. A craving took root in his chest, a quiet yet insistent need for more of that feeling, more of them.

Stepping out of the shower, he dried himself off, wrapping a towel around his waist before brushing his teeth. The routine motions were automatic, but his mind spun with those vivid images, heat already pooling low in his belly.

He styled his hair, the habitual tug of the comb pulling him back to the present, but not completely. Not when his senses were still keenly aware of their scent lingering on his skin despite the shower, faint but unmistakable, as if they had marked him as theirs.

One night. That’s all it had taken for them to make him theirs. He got dressed before making his bed with the practiced precision of someone who’d been a soldier for a long time, the last trace of E smoothed out beneath the taut sheets. Moving on, his hand reached for the small, worn notebook on the nightstand—a habit, a piece of routine that kept him anchored. But today, even that felt different. His eyes flicked over the scribbled notes—reminders and plans for his lectures—but they barely registered. His mind was still caught in the gravity of E’s laughter, the way it had curled around him, warm and dangerous.

Logan made his way to his desk and sat down, the notepad now forgotten in his grip. No matter how many mornings he’d seen after tangled nights, none of them carried this. None of them ever left him feeling whole the way E had, even if just for a fleeting moment—before the hollowness crept in as soon as they were gone.

His reflection caught his eye in the mirror: rougher around the edges than usual, but still carrying that stubborn resilience he never seemed to lose. Tugging at his shirt collar, he adjusted the fit of his flannel, then ran a hand through his hair to push it back into place. A breath shuddered out of him as he wrestled the knot in his chest, forcing himself to focus.

With one final glance, he made sure everything was in order—boots laced tight, notepad folded neatly on the desk’s edge, though the ghost of last night still clung to the room. He inhaled deeply, the faint scent of E lingering in the air, uninvited in the way it stirred memories too raw, too exposing.

The space felt emptier than it should, as though a piece of it—and him—had left with them. Closing his eyes briefly, he centered himself, then rose and made his way down the hallway to the mansion’s first floor.

The hum of early morning voices grew louder as he neared the kitchen. He could already pick out Jean’s quiet laughter and Scott’s steady, self-assured tone. The familiar sounds grounded him, even as a faint tug of anticipation simmered at the edges of his thoughts.

When he entered, the conversation quieted momentarily as their eyes turned toward him. Jean and Scott shared a glance, surprised to see him this late; Logan was usually here long before either of them. He nodded their way—silent, but not unfriendly—before crossing to the counter. Grabbing the coffee pot, he filled his mug and brought it close, the steam curling in the air.

He was still lost in thought when E entered, their stride confident, eyes sharp with mischief. The air shifted the moment they stepped in, crackling like an unspoken challenge. Their smile was subtle, but unmistakably smug, as if they owned the space.

“Morning, everyone,” they greeted, their voice silk, effortless. Two of the three people they addressed didn’t seem entirely comfortable, their wariness obvious, but E wore their nonchalance like armor, as though they couldn’t care less. They moved through the room with practiced ease, every motion so deliberate, so fluid, that it made Logan’s pulse quicken in a way that used to irritate him—but now, it simply thrilled him.

They made this masquerade look effortless.

Their eyes met his, a flicker of shared understanding passing between them before they glanced away, the moment hidden beneath a mask of casual indifference.

They reached for the coffee pot, their fingers brushing Logan’s where his hand rested casually on the counter. The touch was fleeting, something no one else in the room would notice, but it left a warmth that lingered between them. The slight squeeze they gave him was enough to send a silent message: brace yourself. His jaw tensed, but he masked it with a sip, his gaze hardening as he prepared for whatever came next.

“Black coffee again, Logan?” E’s voice broke the silence, playful and biting. “You ever consider trying something with flavor?” They poured themselves a cup, their smirk deepening as they glanced over their shoulder at him.

Logan’s response was automatic, rough, as he played along, letting them lead the dance of their back and forth. “Coffee’s coffee. Doesn’t need all that extra crap.”

E’s eyebrows arched, their grin widening as if they’d caught him off-guard with a well-placed jab. “Ah, a man of simple tastes. Should’ve figured.”

He met their eyes, a silent challenge sparking between them. “What’s that supposed to mean?” The words came out with an edge, but there was a tension in his chest that had nothing to do with annoyance.

“Oh, nothing.” E shrugged, taking a sip of their coffee, their eyes dancing with amusement. “Just that I thought someone with your experience might be a bit more adventurous.”

Logan felt the tension coil tight in his chest, the line between reality and performance starting to blur. He forced his expression into one of irritation, letting a spark of anger flicker in his eyes. Leaning into the feeling to give the act weight, he set his mug down with a deliberate thud.

“Careful there, sweetheart. Last time someone thought they had me figured out, it didn’t end too pretty,” he said, letting the hint of a growl seep into his voice. Jean and Scott exchanged glances, brows raising as they picked up on the shift in atmosphere.

E’s smirk grew sharper, almost daring. “Wouldn’t dream of it, old man,” they retorted, a flick of mock respect in their tone that had the others in the room shifting uncomfortably. Jean's eyes darted between them, curiosity turning into concern as the tension thickened.

Logan clenched his jaw, leaning forward just enough to invade E’s space, his face a mask of barely-contained fury. “Old man? You better watch your mouth or I’ll remind you why you don’t cross me, kid.”

Scott’s gaze snapped to them, mouth opening to intervene, but E beat him to it. They laughed, a sharp, biting sound that bounced off the walls and made Logan’s skin prickle. “Oh, I’m terrified,” they said, their words dripping with sarcasm. “Please, Logan, save the dramatics. You’re not as intimidating as you think, kitty cat.”

The silence that followed was suffocating, and Logan felt his pulse thunder in his ears. He reminded himself that this was part of the plan, that E’s sharp jabs were calculated. But damn if it didn’t cut deeper than he’d expected. He caught the brief flicker of apology in their eyes, barely noticeable to anyone but him.

Jean’s voice cut through the standoff, soft but steady. “Is everything okay here?” she asked, trying to smooth the tension with a touch of authority.

Logan didn’t break eye contact with E as he replied, “Peachy, Jeannie. Just a friendly morning chat.”

“Yeah, friendly,” E added, their tone so falsely sweet it made Jean’s frown deepen.

Scott’s eyes narrowed, suspicion clear as day. “Well, if you two are done, maybe we can all get on with our morning without the theatrics.”

Logan bit back a retort, taking a step back and grabbing his coffee cup. The room was stifling now, and he could feel the way E’s presence tugged at him even as they stood apart. “Yeah. We’re done,” he muttered before turning his back and leaving, letting the act settle like a stone in his gut.

Behind him, he heard E’s soft chuckle, a practiced sound meant to sting, and it did. But they’d both agreed—this was the way it had to be. And so, the distance began.

Logan spent the hours following the kitchen fight lost in his thoughts, the conversation replaying in his mind like a broken record. He knew it wasn’t real—that much was clear—but E’s words had hit harder than he’d anticipated. Not because there was any truth to them, but because they came from them. A part of him hated how it lingered, stirring something raw inside. He wasn’t the type to let something like this gnaw at him. He was the Wolverine, damn it. But it still dug under his skin.

He tried to shake it off, but the feeling wouldn’t fade. He needed to see them. To remind himself it was all just an act.

By the time he reached the library, the weight in his chest had grown unbearable. E was hunched over a stack of papers at one of the long oak tables, their focus intent on something that looked law-related. Figures. Logan leaned against the doorframe for a moment, watching them. He was always amazed by how easily they could shut everything else out. He let the silence hang for a beat before pushing himself off the door and making his way inside.

E glanced up when he approached, the brief flicker of relief in their eyes catching him off guard. “Logan,” they said softly, setting the pen down. The words were warm, but there was something unreadable beneath them.

“Got a minute?” he asked, his voice quiet, almost careful.

“For you? Always,” E replied, their smile faint but genuine.

Logan sat across from them, his rough hands resting on the polished surface of the table. He didn’t quite know how to start, what to say, but when he opened his mouth, the words just poured out of him, unguarded. “That stuff in the kitchen,” raw emotion coated the rough edges of his voice, “I know it’s all for show, but… damn, you didn’t hold back.”

E winced slightly, their gaze dropping to their notes. “I know. I’m sorry. I hated saying it.” They took a breath, their eyes meeting his again, darker now, their expression tight. “Unfortunately, we might need to take it up a notch. Be even more convincing.”

Logan leaned back in his chair, trying to keep his voice casual. “It’s fine. I ain’t gonna lose sleep over it.” He shot them a look, though—he wasn’t convinced by his own lie. Not entirely. “But if we need to go harder… what’s the plan?”

E’s eyes searched his face for a moment, their fingers brushing against his where they rested on the table. It was brief, but it caught him off guard, something warm and unspoken passing between them. “We make it meaner,” they said quietly, their voice low, tinged with a hint of regret. “You push me, I push back harder. We have to make them believe it’s personal.”

Logan nodded slowly, though the idea of making it worse, of biting deeper, didn’t sit well with him. “You sure you’re up for that?” he asked, his voice gruff despite himself.

“If it means we’ll have better days, then yeah, I am.” E’s hand lingered for a moment longer, their thumb tracing an absent pattern on his skin. The small touch, so simple but with the weight of everything unspoken, grounded him, a silent reassurance amid the chaos they were building. “Are you?”

The question hung in the air, and for a second, the noise of the world outside the library faded away. He exhaled slowly, the tension in his chest releasing with the breath. “Yeah. I’m in.”

A slight twitch at the corners of E’s lips. There was something almost tender in their gaze, a fleeting softness. But that moment was broken by the sound of footsteps approaching. Their expression shifted in an instant—like a switch had been flipped, delicate features hardening suddenly—and their hand pulled away from his, curling into a fist.

Before Logan could react, they smacked him across the face with a loud slap, the sound echoing in the quiet library. “Who the hell do you think you are, Howlett?” E snapped, their voice cold and cutting, each word like the crack of a whip. “Talking to me like that? You think you can just come in here and throw your weight around?”

Logan blinked, the sting of the slap still fresh on his skin, but it wasn’t just the pain that lingered—it was the venom in their tone, keen and raw, that struck deeper. A flicker of heat stirred low in his gut, unbidden and maddening, the kind of sensation that set his instincts on edge. Damn it. He hated how his body responded to the bite of it, to the fire in their eyes. It wasn’t the first time he’d felt this twisted pull, the way pain and tension tangled together in a way that left him craving more.

His gaze flicked toward the doorway, catching Hank standing there, a stack of books balanced in his arms. The doctor’s expression was frozen in surprise, his wide eyes darting between them. Logan forced the heat back, burying it under a frown.

Without missing a beat, his face twisted into a scowl, his jaw tightening as he played along. “You’re lucky I don’t throw you outta here, witch,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, practically vibrating with barely-contained intensity.

E scoffed, their eyes blazing as they leaned into the act. “Oh, don’t you worry, you rabid dog. I’m leaving. I can’t stand to breathe the same air as you right now.”

They swept up their papers in one sharp motion, the sound of rustling edges filling the heavy silence. Their shoulder brushed his as they stormed past, the contact deliberate and forceful. Logan didn’t move, his hands curling into fists on the table, every muscle in his body taut as he fought the urge to call after them—or worse, follow.

Hank stood rooted to the spot, his mouth opening slightly like he wanted to interject, but whatever words he had died before they could form. He stared after E, then shifted his gaze to Logan, clearly hesitant.

Finally, Logan broke the silence with a grunt, shoving his chair back roughly. The scrape of wood against the floor was loud in the stillness. “What’re you starin’ at, Hank?” His tone was gruff, laced with irritation, but the effort to keep the edge in his voice felt heavier than before.

Hank raised a single eyebrow, his composure sliding back into place like a well-worn mask. “I was about to ask if everything is all right, but… I suppose I already have my answer.”

Logan didn’t reply. Instead, he stalked toward the door, his steps heavy and deliberate, a growl rumbling low in his chest. The act was working. Too well, maybe. And for reasons he didn’t care to admit, that fact sat heavier in his gut than he liked.

Later that night, when sneaking into each other’s rooms wasn’t an option, they both found themselves in the forest clearing. Neither had planned it, but some unspoken pull brought them to this spot, far from the prying eyes and ears of the mansion. It was theirs—a sanctuary untouched by the chaos of their daily lives.

The clearing was quiet, the kind of stillness only the forest could hold. The soft rustle of leaves danced with the cool night breeze, and a sliver of moonlight spilled onto the grass, casting long shadows across the ground. Logan stood a few paces away, rolling his shoulders as he circled E, his gaze locked onto theirs. There was no need for pretense out here.

“You sure you wanna do this tonight?” he asked, his voice low and gruff, carrying a hint of concern that he couldn’t quite mask.

E’s lips curved into a smirk, their stance relaxed, yet poised. “What’s wrong, pretty boy? Afraid I might embarrass you?”

Logan snorted, his mouth twitching into a brief grin. “Ain’t no chance of that, darlin’. But you ain’t exactly fresh off the bench after today.”

“And you are?” E shot back, lunging forward with a quick burst of energy. Logan sidestepped with ease, their movements more familiar to him now. They twisted on their heel, throwing a jab that he caught mid-air, his hand closing firmly around their wrist. A shiver ran down their spine, stoking their hunger in the most exquisite way.

“Point taken,” he muttered, his voice tinged with amusement as he pulled them closer, his smirk returning.

The sparring unfolded in a steady rhythm, their movements fluid and purposeful. It wasn’t just a fight—it was a conversation in motion, a silent exchange of trust and challenge. Each strike, dodge, and counter carried its own cadence, a private language spoken in the dead of the night.

By the time they called it, E was sprawled on the grass, breathless and flushed, sweat glistening on their skin in a way that made Logan’s gaze linger a moment too long. He dropped down beside them, leaning his back against a tree, his eyes roaming over them as a heat that coiled low in his gut tightened, stirred by the sight of them so alive, so unguarded under the moonlight.

“You gotta work on that right hook,” he teased, the grin on his face softening the edge of his words.

E huffed, propping themselves up on their elbows. “I landed it once.”

“Once don’t make a streak, sweetheart,” Logan countered, his voice quieter now as his fingers brushed against theirs in the cool grass.

For a while, they both simply stayed there, the silence between them comfortable, filled only with the soft chirp of crickets and the distant whisper of leaves. Eventually, E sat up, leaning into Logan’s steady frame. Their hand rested lightly on his stomach, fingertips itching to slip beneath his shirt, but as his warmth enveloped them in a way that felt safe, grounding, they didn’t want to break the peace.

“It’s harder than I thought,” they said softly, the words barely breaking the stillness.

Logan turned slightly, his brow furrowing. “What is?”

“This whole thing.” E gestured vaguely at the forest, at him, at everything. “The fights. The secrecy. Hurting you. Hiding—just to be us. It’s only been one day, and I already hate it.”

Logan’s chest tightened, their words circling in his mind, refusing to settle. ‘Just to be us’. The unintentional confession lingered in the air between them, heavy and unspoken. It wasn’t just the exhaustion from the sparring session that had them speaking so openly—it was trust. Trust in him.

He looked down at them, nestled against him, their breathing steady. Their guard, that armor usually so rigid that centuries had forged, had slipped, leaving behind a version of them few ever got to see. There was a softness there, a vulnerability they rarely allowed, and it filled him with something between awe and a quiet ache. That they thought of them as a ‘us’, even subconsciously, stirred something deep in his chest—a mix of pride, longing, and adoration. That they trusted him enough to bare this side of them made his heart flutter in a way he hadn’t expected.

His hand moved without thought, his fingers brushing through their dark hair with a slow, deliberate reverence. The wavy strands slipped like silk between his fingers, tethering him in the moment, a silent reassurance that this wasn’t just a fleeting dream.

“It’s rough, Angel,” he said softly, his voice gravelly in the quiet. The nickname slipped out naturally, a little softer than usual, carrying more weight. He hesitated, letting the words sink in before adding, “But we’ll push through.”

E’s lips twitched into a faint smile, though their eyes remained fixed on his free hand, resting next to theirs on his stomach. “Yeah, I know,” they murmured. Their fingers shifted, brushing his for a moment before lacing them together. The contact felt soft, simple, yet charged with an unspoken understanding.

They exhaled, their voice tinged with frustration. “It would be easier if we could plan the fights, but we can’t. If we do, it’ll feel… off, staged. They’ll figure us out.”

Logan nodded slowly, his thumb sweeping over their knuckles in soothing circles. “You’re right. It’s gotta feel real… for them and for us.”

That last part slipped out before he could stop it, and he tensed, unsure if they’d catch the hidden meaning. E turned their head, meeting his gaze, their eyes searching his face. “And you’re okay with that?”

His lips quirked into a smirk, his defenses sliding back into place just enough. “I’ll live. Ain’t my first rodeo, sweetheart.” He reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair from their face, his hand lingering against their cheek before finding hers again. “‘Sides, I’ve had worse things thrown at me than words.”

They leaned into his touch, their eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment before reopening, their expression softening. “I hate that it has to be this way,” they admitted quietly.

Logan let out a low, thoughtful hum, lowering his head to nuzzle lightly against theirs. “Me too, Eki,” he murmured almost hesitantly, his voice softer now. “But we’ll get through it. I know we will.”

It was the first time he called them this way. The name rolled off his tongue with a warmth he hadn’t intended, but it was there all the same—gentle and intimate, carrying more weight than he realized.

They stiffened ever so slightly, not out of discomfort but surprise. A flicker of something unfamiliar sparked in their chest at the sound of it, a flutter, and a quiet warmth bloomed around it as they tilted their head to glance at him, lips parting as though to respond, but no words came. The urge to kiss him, to lick and nip at his lips gripped their gut, but they couldn’t, not without harming him.

Instead, they stayed like that, the night wrapping around them both, the stars scattered above like silent witnesses. E sighed, leaning back into him, their head resting against his chest, and he instinctively tightened his arm around them, pulling them closer.

“At least we’ve got this,” he murmured after a long stretch of silence, his voice low but heavy with meaning.

E smiled faintly, their hand squeezing his. “Yeah,” they whispered, warmth coating her tone. “This is nice.”

Logan bent his head, pressing a tender kiss to the top of hers, the gesture unhurried and sincere. “It is,” he agreed.

For now, this was enough. The clearing remained their sanctuary, a pocket of time untouched by the outside world, as they held onto each other, finding strength in their shared determination to see this through, no matter the cost. Whatever came next, they’d face it—together.

The fights had started happening more often—small sparks igniting without warning, flaring into roaring fires. Every little thing became an excuse to clash, to bruise each other for show. It was a performance they played, and the mansion was their stage. It didn’t matter what set them off—a look, a comment, a minor disagreement—each moment seemed to lead them to scrape against each other’s nerves. Yet, beneath the verbal clashes, another kind of pyre burned. This one was different, stoked not by anger but by their need to reassure each other once the curtain fell. It consumed them in private, a fire that was anything but an act.

Logan could feel it burning now, simmering, as he watched E coming out of Charles’ office. He’d been on his way to his first class of the day when his gaze landed on them, and an unexpected warmth blossomed in his chest. They looked composed, calculating as usual, every line of their body a testament to the control they wielded so effortlessly. It was that same composure that made something inside him twist—a familiar frustration, a gnawing at his gut that tainted the lukewarm affection he felt for them.

He hated it—not the ache in his gut or the sight of them, but the distance their polished exterior created. It was a weight he couldn’t shake no matter how hard he tried. Every time, it reminded him that what they had now wasn’t simple anymore, wasn’t easy. There was no space for softness between them, not in public, at least until further notice.

A sigh slipped between his lips, and he braced himself. This was the perfect opportunity, and he couldn’t let it pass. So he picked up the pace, his boots echoing in the hallway as he approached, each step deliberate. E’s eyes caught him, but they didn’t flinch, though there was a flicker of something unguarded flashing across their face—caution—just for a second before the mask fell back into place. Their poise didn’t falter, but Logan saw through it.

“Well, look who’s here,” he drawled, playing the part, his voice loud enough to draw attention, the edge in his tone slicing through the quiet of the hallway, freezing a passing student in their step. “The school’s puppet master.”

E turned to face him fully, their gaze sharp and unreadable as they assessed him. “Howlett,” they replied, stepping into their role, voice low and steady, but it carried a warning. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t start something here.”

“Oh, come on, sweetheart, I ain’t starting anything,” Logan shot back, a sly smirk tugging at his lips. “Just calling it like I see it.” He took another step, closing the gap just enough to feel the tension coil tighter between them. “You’re always scheming, aren’t you? Pulling strings, keeping everyone in line.” His voice dropped lower, each word sharper than the last. “Bet half the staff’s already eating out of your hand.”

They straightened their stance, jaw tightened, the only crack in their armor. “I’m a qualified lawyer and I’m doing my job,” they said smoothly, though the words came out clipped. “You might want to try that sometime.”

Logan let out a bitter chuckle, his tone laced with mockery. “Oh, I’m workin’ just fine, sweetheart. Don’t need your little lectures. ‘Qualified lawyer,’ huh? Tell me—what’d you do to earn that title? Cheat your way through the bar exam? Maybe pay someone off?” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, venomous growl, still very much audible to the audience gathering not far from them. “Or was it somethin’ else? Maybe you just slept your way to the top.”

The words hung in the air like a gunshot, the hallway falling deathly silent. A collective gasp rippled through the few students and staff watching the exchange, their eyes darting between the two of them, waiting for the fallout.

But against all odds, E’s face shifted, their expression a razor-thin mask of mockery, as if the words Logan had thrown at them were beneath consideration. “Watch your mouth, Howlett,” they snapped, voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “Another comment like that, and I’ll have you up for sexual harassment.”

For a moment, everything froze. The crowd held its collective breath, the charged stillness pressing in on all sides. Logan’s fists clenched against his thighs, his muscles taut as if ready to snap, to strike at something—anything—to vent the storm that seemed to be brewing inside him. His breath hissed through his teeth, the silence surrounding them hanging thick in the air, leaving only the sound of his heartbeat drumming in his ears.

A few feet from them, the door to Charles’ office swung open, its creak slicing through the tension, a subtle command that immediately stilled the room. The professor’s calm voice followed, cool and unyielding. “That will be enough.” The steady words cut through the sharp air with authority.

Every head turned as the headmaster entered the hallway, his gaze sweeping between Logan and E, the tension palpable. Logan stood bristling, fists still clenched at his sides, while E remained unflinching, their posture a perfect balance of defiance and composure.

“Logan,” Charles began, his tone measured but leaving no room for argument. “This behavior is unacceptable. Whatever concerns you have, this is not the way to address them. Such language and accusations have no place here.”

Logan’s jaw ticked, his teeth grinding together as he shot a glare toward Charles. “You don’t get it, Chuck—”

“On the contrary,” the Professor cut in, his voice firm but even. His eyes, clear and resolute, locked onto Logan’s with quiet strength. “I do. I know exactly what’s happening. But I’m telling you now: it stops here.”

The words hung in the air, firm. He shifted his gaze briefly to E, who stood calm and unaffected, their expression unreadable but charged with unspoken triumph. Logan’s chest rose and fell sharply, frustration seemingly rolling off him in palpable waves. His jaw remained clenched, posture taut, keen eyes betraying nothing but the simmering tension in his frame—a masterful performance that left no cracks for doubt.

Still, Charles continued, his focus shifting back to Logan with unwavering steadiness. “E has earned their place here,” he said, each word measured, deliberate. “Through hard work, expertise, and dedication. Qualities I expect you to recognize and respect. Whatever grievances you harbor, they do not justify this behavior.”

Logan’s chest tightened, his fists flexing against his thighs as a growl rumbled low in his throat. His eyes flicked to E, blazing with fiery defiance that looked convincingly real to anyone watching. Meanwhile, E, ever the picture of composure, turned to Charles with the ease of someone who knew how to play their cards perfectly.

“It’s fine, Professor,” they said smoothly, as if brushing off the situation as a passing annoyance. Their voice carried just enough weight to draw the attention of the onlookers. “Logan’s entitled to his opinions, misplaced as they are. My work isn’t for him to recognize—it’s for the students. That’s what matters.”

A faint murmur of admiration rippled through the crowd at E’s collected response. Logan’s shoulders tensed further, his apparent fury simmering just beneath the surface, but his eyes held a flicker of something almost imperceptible—an edge of satisfaction in how well the act was landing.

Charles nodded at E, his expression approving. “I admire your commitment, E. Truly. However,” he continued, turning back to Logan, his tone sharpening once more. “You are an example here, Logan,” he said, his words leaving no room for argument. “Consequently, I expect better from you. For now, I’d like a word with you in my office.”

Charles turned his wheelchair toward the open door, gesturing for Logan to follow. Logan didn’t move immediately, his body remaining taut, every muscle coiled as if ready to snap. His gaze stayed fixed on E for what felt like an eternity, the tension between them almost electric. But with a reluctant growl, he finally shifted, his heavy footsteps echoing as he stepped into the Professor’s office.

The door clicked shut behind him, its sound reverberating through the hall, leaving hushed conversations in its wake. The lawyer remained still for a moment, head held high, their composure unshaken as the students’ gazes lingered. Curiosity mingled with admiration in their stares, though none noticed the faint smirk curling at the corners of E’s lips—a near-invisible aura of triumph. Without a word, they turned, their stride deliberate, whispers of victory trailing behind them like shadows of their success.

In Charles’ office, the door clicked softly shut, sealing off the muffled hum of conversations outside. Logan crossed the room with deliberate strides, his arms folding tightly over his chest as he stopped in front of the Professor. His stance was taut, his brows drawn, and his jaw clenched—all the hallmarks of frustration expertly crafted into an act that, to anyone else, would seem entirely genuine.

Charles, ever composed, sat calmly behind his desk, his fingers steepled in front of him. His steady gaze met Logan’s, but the faint glimmer of amusement in his eyes betrayed an edge of knowing that Logan instantly caught. The flicker of amusement sent a ripple of unease through Logan, but he held firm to the role he’d been playing all morning.

“My friend,” Charles began, his voice smooth and measured, “I think it’s time we discuss this little… performance of yours and E’s.”

Logan’s brows furrowed, his expression hardening with practiced defiance. “If you’re about to tell me to cut it out—”

“Quite the contrary,” Charles interjected, his lips curling into the faintest smile. “You and E are charming idiots, both of you. In fact, I’d say your commitment is remarkable. The arguments are convincing. Almost too convincing.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, though the flicker of his gaze betrayed his uncertainty. “So, you knew?” he asked, his voice low, the usual gravel edged with something lighter—caught between annoyance and relief.

Charles leaned back slightly, his expression softening with patience. “Logan, I am a telepath. Nothing escapes me in this mansion. Did you really think something as… vibrant as your exchanges with E, along with your little settlement, would go unnoticed? I suspected it from the very beginning, but the confirmation came quickly enough.”

Logan shifted his weight, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked away, his discomfort evident as the mask slipped from his features. “If you think it’s a waste of time—”

“I think,” Charles cut in smoothly, “that it’s clever. Effective, even. E has been earning the team’s trust far faster than they would through conventional means. Their role as the so-called ‘victim’ in your dynamic has not only won them sympathy but also admiration. And your willingness to take on the role of the aggressor,” he added, his voice dipping with warmth, “speaks volumes about your character.”

Logan’s shoulders stiffened, the compliment settling awkwardly on him. He huffed, shifting his gaze to the side. “Ain’t about me, Chuck. It’s about makin’ sure they get a shot. At the whole thing.”

Charles inclined his head slightly, his smile softening further. “Even so, it takes courage to play the villain, especially when it places you under scrutiny. Your actions show a deeper understanding of what this team needs to thrive.”

Logan scoffed, the heat creeping up his neck. “Yeah, well, don’t go spreadin’ that around. Got a reputation to keep.”

Charles chuckled softly, his amusement tinged with genuine affection. “Your secret is safe with me, Logan. Just be sure to keep the balance. This arrangement, as effective as it is, can’t come at the expense of mutual respect—or your sanity.”

Logan’s lips twitched into a faint smirk, his usual gruffness returning as he grumbled, “We’ll manage. E’s tough—they can take it. We both can.”

Charles nodded, his gaze steady. “I trust that you will. But remember, my friend, even the best performances need the occasional intermission.”

Logan snorted, the corner of his mouth tugging up in reluctant agreement. “Noted. Thanks for not blowin’ it up. Now, if we’re done here…” He gestured vaguely toward the door, his tone laced with impatience but lacking its usual edge. “Got a class to run.”

Charles waved him off with a faint smile. “Of course, my friend. Now, if you would, make a bit of a show as you leave. It wouldn’t do for the others to think you got off easy. And try not to terrorize anyone else on your way out.”

Logan smirked faintly at that before turning away. The tension in his body had eased slightly, and he inhaled deeply, drawing the simmering anger back into his gut to slip into character. With deliberate force, he yanked the door open, letting it slam against the wall. “Got it, boss,” he called over his shoulder, his voice cutting sharply through the room.

He stormed into the hallway, his boots striking the floor in heavy, echoing thuds. His scowl was perfectly crafted—a tempest of irritation that sent students scattering like leaves in a gale. Pale faces turned away, and whispers followed him, swirling in his wake.

Before he could make it far, a door to his right creaked open. A hand shot out, gripping his arm with surprising strength, and hauled him into the shadowy confines of a supply closet. The door clicked shut behind them, sealing them in near darkness.

“The hell—?” Logan grunted, his surprise barely surfacing before the familiar scent of spice and smoke wrapped around him. His glare softened in an instant, his lips twitching into something close to a smirk. “Eki?”

“Shh,” they whispered, amusement lacing their tone. They pressed closer, their presence steady and teasing. “You’re supposed to be in trouble, remember?”

Logan huffed, his eyes narrowing, though there wasn’t a trace of real irritation. “What’re you playin’ at?”

E leaned in, their hands trailing up his chest with slow, deliberate intent, pausing at his shoulders. The faint light slipping through the door’s edge slanted across their face, highlighting the wicked curve of their lips. “Heard you stomping out of Charles’ office like a wounded bear,” they murmured, their voice dripping with mock concern. “Thought I’d check on you.”

His brow twitched, the stubborn set of his jaw softening despite himself. “Checkin’ on me involves draggin’ me into a closet now?”

E’s smirk widened, their tone a mix of teasing and confidence. “Don’t act like you mind.”

Their movements were playful but edged with intent. They leaned closer, their breath warm against his neck as their lips hovered near his ear. The subtle press of their body against his sent a ripple of heat through him.

“Besides,” they whispered, their voice dipping lower, more intimate, “I wanted to tell you something.”

His hands moved to their hips without a second thought, his fingers settling naturally along the curve of their waist. “Yeah? What’s so damn important it can’t wait?”

E’s fingers drifted lazily over his arms, their touch light but electric. They tilted their head, their lips brushing his ear in a deliberate, measured move. “You were so hot when you yelled at me earlier,” they murmured, their voice a sultry purr. “All fire and fury… made me want to slap you again just to see what you’d do.”

Logan’s breath hitched, a low, guttural sound rumbling in his throat as his grip tightened on their hips, just enough to warn. “You’re playin’ with fire, Angel.”

E pulled back slightly to meet his gaze, their eyes glittering with mischief and challenge. They could feel his hunger feeding their own. “Am I?”

Their voice was soft but charged, every syllable a spark fanning the flames between them. The pull was undeniable, intoxicating, and he felt himself give in, just enough to let them reel him closer. Damn it—he didn’t want to fight it. Not this time.

“You’re lucky we’re in this closet,” Logan muttered, his voice dropping to a low, rough tone that sent a shiver through the confined space.

E tilted their head, their smirk softening into something warmer, almost tender. “Lucky?” they asked, their tone playful but carrying a trace of sincerity. “Or smart?”

A quiet huff of laughter escaped him, the tension in his hands loosening slightly as his grip softened on their hips. But his fingers stayed, a lingering reminder of the fire simmering beneath the surface. “Maybe both,” he admitted, his voice quieter now.

The air between them grew heavy, thick with a charged anticipation neither seemed willing to shatter. Time stretched, every heartbeat amplifying the pull between them, the unspoken heat crackling like a wildfire ready to ignite, a match struck on a flint.

Then, faint footsteps drifted in from the hallway—distant, but clear enough to cut through the tension.

They both froze.

Logan recovered first, his voice steady, though the faint edge in it betrayed his reluctance. “We should get outta here before someone catches us.” Yet he didn’t pull away, didn’t move to create the distance his words suggested.

E leaned in, their lips brushing lightly against the crook of his neck. The touch was fleeting, soft as a feather, yet it left a mark he couldn’t ignore. They lingered for a moment before pulling back, their voice a low murmur. “Guess so. But next time, Howlett…”

They let the words hang for a beat, their smile teasing but layered with something deeper. “You owe me a real fight.”

Logan smirked, one corner of his mouth quirking up in that familiar, roguish way that made it impossible to tell if he was amused or intrigued. He cracked the door open, peering into the hallway. Satisfied the coast was clear, he glanced back, kissing their cheek quickly and murmuring, his voice a quiet promise, “You’ll get one.”

He stepped out into the corridor like nothing had happened, his boots striking the floor with a steady, confident rhythm. The sound echoed faintly as he disappeared down the hall.

E lingered in the closet for a moment, their smile turning satisfied as they watched him go. Something flickered in their expression—anticipation, maybe hope—as they slipped out in the opposite direction, the promise of what was to come hanging thick in the air between them.

The common room resonated softly with the chatter of Ororo, Marie, and Kitty. Seated in a cozy cluster around a small table, they were quietly planning their next trip to the mall. Kitty leaned in, her eyes sparkling as she described a sweater she had spotted online, while Ororo listened with a small, indulgent smile that softened her regal demeanor. Marie occasionally chimed in, her voice warm and lilting, adding her own thoughts about colors and styles.

A few feet from them, E sat upright on the couch in the center of the room, one leg crossed over the other, a cup of tea resting steadily on their knee. They watched the television with quiet focus, as the news anchor’s voice delivered updates about local events. There was a trace of weariness in their posture, the kind of exhaustion that settled behind the eyes and hinted at a long day spent poring over legal documents.

The moment Logan entered, the room’s tranquil atmosphere shifted. He strolled in with his usual swagger, the faint scent of cigar smoke trailing him. His flannel sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing his sturdy forearms. His gaze swept the room briefly before he plopped down beside E without a word. His hand brushed their knee as he reached for the remote on the coffee table, a casual but deliberate motion that claimed space.

Click.

The news was replaced by the vibrant green of a baseball field, the roar of the crowd pouring from the speakers. A game was already in progress, the commentary animated and full of energy.

E let out an audible sigh, their lips pressing into a thin line. “Seriously?”

“Game’s on,” Logan replied casually, settling back into the couch, his feet on the coffee table, as if nothing were amiss. He didn’t even look at them, his eyes fixed on the screen, his poise relaxed but unyielding.

E’s hand shot out and snatched the remote from his grip, flicking the channel back to the news. “I was watching that.”

Logan straightened slightly, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. “Yeah? Well, now I’m watchin’ this.” He grabbed the remote again, switching it back to the game, with a decisive press on the TV clicker.

The tension between them crackled like static electricity, the air thick with unspoken challenge.

E’s jaw tightened. “Are you five? Grow up, Howlett.” With measured precision, they took the remote again and returned the television to the news. Their movements were controlled, deliberate, as though refusing to let Logan’s antics rattle them.

His eyes narrowed, his voice dropping as he leaned in. “You’ve got somethin’ to say, witch?” The word was low but sharp, cutting like a blade slipping between ribs.

Behind them, the conversation amongst the others faltered. Ororo exchanged a glance with Marie, and Kitty froze mid-laugh, her eyes darting between the two.

E didn’t rise to the bait, not at first. They simply set the clicker down on the arm of their side of the couch, their gaze fixed on Logan. “I’m trying to stay informed. Something you should try once in a while.”

Logan smirked, though there was no humor in it. “Informed, huh? That why I don’t see you in the Danger Room? Too busy stayin’ ‘informed’ to pull your weight?”

E’s expression hardened, their composure cracking slightly. “I’m not a soldier, Logan. I never signed up to be. Unlike you, I have an actual job that involves more than swinging claws or quoting history. Being a lawyer means spending hours—days, even—preparing cases, handling crises, and keeping this place from falling apart.”

“Sure,” Logan drawled, leaning back with an exaggerated shrug. “Real noble. But we’re all bustin’ our asses for this school, so what makes you so special that you can skip out on the hard work?”

E’s voice dropped, each word razor-sharp. “The work I do is just as important as your training sessions. Or do you think the contracts you sign, the legal battles I fight, and the protections I negotiate are meaningless?”

Logan chuckled darkly, the sound low and mocking. “Contracts don’t save lives when the next fight comes knockin’, sweetheart. Maybe you’re just lookin’ for excuses. It’s easier to sit on the sidelines than to get your hands dirty, huh?”

The jab landed. A flicker of hurt flashed in E’s eyes, quickly masked by steely resolve. They inhaled deeply, their voice steady but heavy with disappointment. “I thought we were on the same side, Logan.” The weight of their words hung in the air, each syllable a quiet accusation. “Guess I was wrong.”

The room’s silence was suffocating, the atmosphere unbearable.

Logan’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching on his thighs, and for a moment, it seemed like he might back down. Instead, he stood abruptly, his gaze hard and unyielding. “You don’t know the first thing about loyalty.”

The words hit like a hammer, reverberating in the heavy silence that followed. Before anyone could react, Logan turned on his heel and strode out, his boots thudding against the wooden floor with each step.

E remained seated, their face unreadable save for the faint trembling of their hand as they gripped the arm of the couch. After a moment, they set their tea down with careful precision and stood, smoothing their clothes as if to steady themselves.

“Wow,” Kitty murmured, breaking the silence. “What the hell’s his problem?”

Ororo’s gaze lingered on E, sympathy softening her sharp features. “Are you okay?”

The lawyer managed a tight smile, though it didn’t reach their eyes. “I’m fine. Thanks.” Their voice was composed, but there was a brittleness to it, like glass under strain. With a measured motion, they reached for their teacup, lifting it carefully as if it provided some small anchor in the wake of the exchange. “I should…get back to work.”

Without another word, E left the room. Their posture remained straight and unwavering, but there was something fragile in their steps, as if they carried the weight of Logan’s words with them.

Behind them, Ororo, Marie, and Kitty exchanged quiet glances, their subdued chatter shifting to murmurs about Logan’s behavior. They kept their voices low, but their concern lingered in the air, tangible and unresolved, as though the room itself hadn’t quite recovered from the tension.

The Danger Room’s hum vibrated softly in the air as the team gathered, the younger members shifting with barely contained energy while the veterans stood with their usual aura of quiet confidence. Charles’s voice rang out, calm and commanding, as he outlined the day’s objective: clearing one floor of a simulated building of hostile threats and rescuing the hostage.

As usual, people paired off naturally. Scott and Jean exchanged a glance, already stepping into position together. Ororo teamed up with Kurt, offering a serene nod in his direction. Kitty, Marie, and Bobby gravitated toward each other, chatting quietly in low voices.

That left E and Logan, awkwardly standing in the cleared center of the room, where the group had split into smaller teams around them. The silence between them bristled with unspoken tension.

Scott frowned, his visor glinting under the cold light. “Are we seriously pairing them together?”

“They did well during the trial last week,” Charles reminded him, his tone firm yet patient. “Better than anyone expected. It only makes sense for them to try working together again. And perhaps channeling that aggression as a team will mend some of it. ”

Skeptical glances passed between the team members. Logan crossed his arms, his stance as rigid as stone. E stood beside him, their posture stiff and guarded, though their eyes darted toward the others, catching every raised brow and murmured whisper. At least they didn’t sense outright hostility from the rest of the group, which was a small relief amidst the tension.

Finally, Charles’s voice cut through the room with quiet authority. “Begin the simulation.” The words were directed at Hank in the command center, where Charles was now heading as the machinery of the room began to hum louder.

The walls around the X-Men and E shifted, morphing into the interior of a crumbling high-rise. The floor beneath their feet groaned ominously, and the sound of distant gunfire echoed from somewhere above.

Logan glanced at E as they moved cautiously down a simulated hallway. “We take the stairs. Blitz ‘em all the way to the hostage. End it quick.”

E raised an eyebrow. “Blitz? That’s your plan? You think we’re going up against a horde of mindless zombies, or did I miss the memo?”

Logan growled low in his throat. “Look, sweetheart, I don’t have time for your lawyer talk. You want to win, you hit hard and fast.” He punctuated his words by striking his left palm with his right fist.

E stopped mid-step, their gaze catching on the floor layout displayed on a nearby wall. They gestured toward it, a hint of strategy sparking in their tone. “Or, we could think for more than two seconds. See this?” They pointed to a narrow corridor on the map. “That’s a bottleneck—perfect for an ambush. We lure them in, control the fight, and pick them off one by one.”

“You mean drag it out,” Logan muttered.

“Ororo?” E called out over their shoulder. “What’s your take?”

The white haired woman, walking a few feet behind with Kurt, tilted her head thoughtfully. “It’s a sound strategy. Fighting smart is just as important as fighting hard.”

Jean chimed in, her voice measured and calm. “Agreed. Brute force only gets you so far. For all we know, there could be fifty of them in there.”

Logan turned to Scott, silently hoping for backup, but his teammate merely folded his arms and gave him a look—a pointed one, like Logan had just suggested fighting blindfolded. Even Kurt’s tail twitched awkwardly, as though uncomfortable with Logan’s stubbornness.

“Fine,” Logan grumbled at last, his voice dripping with reluctance. “We’ll do it your way.”

“Good choice,” E quipped, already moving ahead.

Scott stepped forward, his visor glinting in the dim light as he addressed the team. “Here’s the plan. Storm and Nightcrawler, you’re on decoy duty—draw their attention toward the main corridor. Shadowcat, Rogue, and Iceman, you’re the scout team. Find the hostage and get them to safety. Jean, Wolverine, and E, you’re with me at the choke point. We’ll hold the line and clean up any stragglers.”

The group split seamlessly into their designated roles. Ororo and Kurt advanced toward the wide-open hall at the far end of the floor, preparing to lure the enemy, while Logan, E, and Jean moved into position at the narrow corridor for the ambush.

Ororo stepped into the open, her eyes faintly glowing as she summoned a swirling gale. A deafening crash echoed through the space as she hurled a metal filing cabinet into a crumbling wall, scattering debris and drawing immediate shouts from the mercenaries.

Kurt vanished with a soft bamf, reappearing behind two guards. Before they could react, he disarmed one with a sharp tail swipe and incapacitated the other with a swift punch. A third guard spun toward him, but a gust of wind sent the man’s weapon skidding out of reach.

“That’s our cue,” Ororo murmured, retreating into the shadows. Kurt followed, the sound of their retreat baiting the mercenaries into pursuit.

At the bottleneck, Logan crouched low, claws unsheathed, his muscles taut as he prepared for the enemy to funnel in. E stood to his left, chakrams glinting in the dim light as they adjusted their stance.

“Remember: controlled chaos,” E said lightly. “Try not to go feral too fast.”

“Funny,” Logan muttered, his eyes narrowing as the first wave of mercenaries rounded the corner.

Jean stood behind them, her focus locked as she created a shimmering telekinetic barrier to intercept the inevitable projectiles. The mercenaries opened fire, but their bullets froze mid-air, suspended like raindrops caught in time.

Logan surged forward, slashing through their ranks with brutal precision. E darted to his side, chakrams spinning in graceful arcs that deflected bullets and struck with unerring accuracy. A guard raised his weapon, only for one of E’s metal disks to slice through it before returning to their hand in a fluid motion.

“Not bad for a desk jockey,” Logan muttered, slicing through another mercenary with a savage sweep of his claws.

E smirked, ducking under a wild swing and planting a chakram squarely into an enemy’s knee. “Thanks, lumberjack. Didn’t know you even knew what a desk was.”

Logan snorted, sidestepping an incoming blow. “I know plenty. Like how not to overthink in a fight.”

E shot him a sharp look, flicking their chakram with a flourish that knocked a gun from another guard’s hand. “Overthink? Sorry, some of us like to use both brains and brawn. It’s called multitasking.”

“Focus!” Jean snapped, her barrier flickering briefly under the hail of bullets as she reinforced it with a concentrated burst of telekinetic energy.

“Scout team, status?” Scott’s voice crackled over the comms.

Kitty’s reply was calm but clipped. “Hostage located. Three guards in the room. Reinforcements heading this way. We can’t engage yet—too many nearby.”

“Understood,” Scott replied. “We’ll clear the path soon.”

“Yep, soon would be great,” Bobby’s voice chimed in, followed by the faint sound of ice cracking.

Scott turned his attention to Ororo and Kurt. “Decoy team, double back and draw reinforcements away from their position. Make it loud and chaotic.”

Ororo gave a nod and turned to Kurt with a playful smile. “Time for a distraction?”

He reached out, grabbing her hand with his blue-skinned one, his smile matching hers. “Let’s make it count.” They both vanished in another one of his characteristic bamfs.

The team at the bottleneck only heard the distant sounds of chaos—shouts, clangs, and the occasional explosion—as the decoy team created their diversion.

“Chaotic enough for you?” Kurt’s voice crackled over the comms.

“Nice work, keep going,” Scott instructed.

Not far from him, the fight intensified. More mercenaries poured in, Logan's large frame crowding them into chaotic clusters in the narrow corridor. One lobbed a grenade, but E reacted quickly, their chakrams spinning out and deflecting it into the wall. The explosion sent a shockwave rippling through the space, leaving E’s ears ringing but sparing the team from serious harm.

Logan growled, claws carving through the crowd with brutal precision. “They just keep comin’,” he muttered, elbowing a guard in the face before slashing another across the chest.

“Almost like they’re programmed to, huh?” E quipped, catching one of their chakrams mid-spin and flicking it toward an approaching guard.

Scott’s optic blast tore through the adjacent wall, collapsing part of the corridor and forcing the mercenaries into an even tighter cluster.

“Nice,” E muttered, resetting their chakrams on the hooks at the back of their shirt.

Logan, now drenched in sweat, glanced over his shoulder at Jean. “Think you can drop somethin’ on ‘em?”

Jean nodded, her telekinetic energy flaring as she wrenched a section of the crumbling ceiling down onto the remaining guards. Dust and debris filled the air, muffling the mercenaries’ groans as they scrambled to recover.

“All clear on our end,” Scott called into the comms. “Scout team, you’re up. Decoy team, escort them back.”

On cue, the younger team members escorted the hostage out, covered by Ororo and Kurt. Together, they retreated under the relentless flow of enemies, making their way to the staircase—the designated extraction point according to the simulation.

The high-rise dissolved back into the metallic walls of the Danger Room as the simulation halted.

“Nice work, team,” Charles’s voice echoed from the speakers above.

Logan rolled his shoulders, claws retracting with a metallic snakt. “Would’ve been faster my way.”

E wiped a bit of sweat from their brow, tossing him a dry look. “Faster, maybe. Messier, definitely.”

Logan smirked, something feral flickering in his eyes. “I’ll give you messy, sweetheart.”

Before E could retort, Logan lunged.

Gasps rippled through the team as his massive frame barreled toward the lawyer. But instead of bracing for impact, E moved.

They dodged to the side, fluid as water, sliding past his outstretched arms. Logan whirled around, but E was already behind him, darting away like a shadow slipping through cracks.

Their movements became a dance—graceful, calculated, almost mesmerizing. E sidestepped his strikes, ducked under his swipes, their bare feet gliding across the floor with uncanny ease. A faint smile tugged at their lips, their eyes alight with challenge.

Logan, by contrast, was all force and fury, each swing of his arms carrying enough power to send anyone else sprawling. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t catch them.

“Quit dancin’, witch,” he growled, his voice rough and strained.

“You quit swinging, old bear,” E shot back, twisting out of his grasp once more.

The onlookers watched in stunned silence. To anyone else, it might’ve looked like Logan was furious, his teeth bared and his movements unrelenting. But the subtle nuances of his posture—how his shoulders stayed loose, how his strikes never fully committed—told a different story.

And, of course, E saw everything.

Finally, Logan managed to grab them, his arms encircling their waist in a vice grip. He pressed them firmly against his chest, his breathing heavy, his pulse hammering against theirs.

From the outside, it looked like he wanted to crush them. But up close, the heat of his gaze burned with something far more intense than anger.

E’s breath hitched, and they fought to keep a smirk from curling their lips. Instead, their fingers brushed against his chest, reluctant to break the embrace, but they needed the show to keep going so they pushed him back with all their strength, slipping free of his hold.

“That’s enough!” Charles’s voice cut through the tension like a whip as he entered the room again.

Logan stepped back, his chest heaving, though the predatory gleam in his eyes didn’t fade. “Logan. E. My office. Now!”

The rest of the team stared as the two of them followed Charles’s voice toward the exit, leaving the charged silence of the Danger Room behind.

“Am I the only one who thinks that was…” Kitty began, searching for the right word.

“Terrifying?” Kurt offered.

“Hot,” Marie muttered under her breath, earning an amused eye roll from Ororo.

But no one dared say anything else.

Charles sat behind his desk, his fingers steepled as he regarded Logan and E with a calm but pointed gaze. They stood across from him, arms crossed in a near-mirror of each other, just as they had during their discussion about Logan’s contract weeks ago. However, the tension between them now was markedly less volatile than it had been back then.

“You did well today,” Charles began, his tone measured. “The training session proved that the team has accepted you, E. They trust your skills and instincts. However…”

Logan shifted his weight with a grunt, already sensing where this was headed.

“…you both need to work on mending the… tension that you’ve been projecting toward each other,” Charles continued.

E raised an eyebrow, their lips twitching with mild amusement.

Charles’s gaze flicked between them. “You’ve played this ruse of animosity so convincingly that it’s starting to unsettle the team. If they find out you’ve been misleading them, it could lead to feelings of betrayal, even resentment, and undermine all the progress you’ve worked so hard to achieve.”

“Great,” Logan muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “So what, we’re supposed to just stop fightin’ all at once?”

“Not quite,” Charles replied with a small smile. “I suggest spacing out these little arguments. Gradually lessen the intensity. Make it appear as though you’ve come to a mutual understanding over time.”

E exchanged a look with Logan, their shared exasperation reflected in his expression. “Honestly? That sounds like the most exhausting part of this entire charade.”

“No kidding,” Logan grunted. “It’s been weeks of butting heads during the day, and I hate it.”

“You hate it?” E shot back, their voice dripping with mock incredulity. “Try being on the receiving end of your constant growling.”

“Yeah, well, you’re no picnic either, sweetheart.”

Charles raised a hand, silencing them before the exchange could escalate further. “I trust the two of you can manage for the sake of the team.”

Both of them nodded, though they shared a small, sheepish smile.

“Good. That will be all for now.”

As they walked down the hall, the guarded tension dissolved entirely now that they were alone, replaced by an easy companionship they both found natural. The faint murmur of voices drifted from the dining room, and both of them slowed instinctively, ears pricking as snippets of conversation reached them.

“I think we’ve been too hard on E,” Marie was saying, her tone tinged with guilt. “They’ve got good instincts, and they’re a damn good strategist.”

“Agreed,” Ororo added. “Their fighting style is intriguing—fluid, adaptive. We could all learn something from that approach.”

Hank’s thoughtful voice joined in. “I did some research on kalaripayattu, their preferred martial art. It’s not just excellent for coordination but also sharpens the mind. A fascinating discipline.”

“You’re all missing the bigger picture,” Scott interjected, his voice edged with frustration. “Logan’s the real problem here. He’s been acting irrationally for weeks.”

Kurt spoke next, his tone hesitant but sympathetic. “He has not left the mansion in a long time. Perhaps he is… how do you say… getting cabin fever?”

“I personally think Logan is an ass, and that’s not gonna change overnight,” Scott added, drawing a few chuckles. “It’s just his basic instincts resurfacing.”

“Or maybe it’s some kind of twisted mating ritual?” Bobby quipped. “Am I the only one who noticed how they were watching each other during that fight? I couldn’t tell if they were going to kill each other or just have sex on the floor.”

Laughter rippled through the room, and Jean’s voice was the next to cut through. “I think he’s taking it out on E because they’re both such strong personalities. And, let’s face it, they couldn’t be more opposite if they tried.”

Logan and E exchanged a glance in the hallway, a slow, knowing look passing between them. A faint smile tugged at both their lips, underlining the shared triumph. Mission accomplished.

Neither of them said a word at first as they continued walking, their footsteps echoing softly against the polished floors. As they reached the next corridor, Logan glanced around, checking to see if they were alone. Then, with a swift motion, he leaned in and pressed a brief kiss to their cheek, his voice low as he murmured, “See you later, Angel.”

The warmth of his words and the kiss lingered as he turned and strode toward his room, leaving E to stand there for a moment, their fingers brushing the spot he’d kissed. They watched him disappear around the corner before turning on their heel and heading in the opposite direction, a small, lingering smile playing on their lips.

To be continued…

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

✨ Masterlist ✨

Don’t forget to follow the tags “Devilish Desires” and “xpressit writings” to stay tuned for the next chapters 😁

🔖 @quillycrow

[dimension20npcofalltime]

Round Four (Semi-Final) - Bracket Two [Dimension 20 NPC of All Time Sidequest Edition]

Wuvvy vs Stacy Fakename vs Meatwolf

Propaganda under the cut (May contain major spoilers for A Court of Fae and Flowers, Mentopolis and Burrow's End)

Wuvvy - She/Her

Campaign: A Court of Fae and Flowers

Who is she?

Wuvvy is Delloso de la Rue's close friend and former assistant.

Why is she the NPC of All Time?

She's a champion who left her court to become an assistant. She regularly exchanges 'I love you's with her crush, who only sees her as a friend. She is hurt by them but challenges their love interest to a duel instead. She ripped up the letter. She's devoted and messy and angry. Love of my life, NPC of all time.

She deserves better. Queen shit.

She's worked so hard. She deserves this

Wuvvy is a loyal freind who will cut a bitch if necessary

Cited by both Brennan and Aabria as one of their favorite NPCs of all time, and the only NPC that Brennan has ever wanted to sideline a campaign to follow. For a good part of the campaign, she provides the emotional depth that isn't present in the rest of the campaign, and creates conflict that matches the theme and genre of the campaign. One of the most intriguing and compelling NPCs of all times, side quest or not, and also a perfect girl who should be allowed to commit crimes because she deserves it.

Have you seen her?? beautiful prey turned predator. part of the most heart wrenching love triangle

Stacy Fakename - She/Her

Campaign: Mentopolis

Who is she?

Stacy Fakename is the personification of flight, one of Elias Hodge's reflexes.

Why is she the NPC of All Time?

It’s such a good bit with such a good payoff

Meatwolf - He/Him

Campaign: Burrow's End

Who is he?

Meatwolf, or The Wolf of Theseus is a wolf that was experimented on by the First Stoats to make it a weapon.

Why is he the NPC of All Time?

The goodest boy with the goodest name. Was supposed to be a scary but was turned into an adorable ball of totally non-horrific hugs thanks to a bit of kindness from Tula.

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Behind the Seams: Part III

Welcome to the first instalment of Behind the Seams! Thank you everyone who has responded so positively to this slightly self-indulgent idea I had. I know I take so long in between chapters, this seems like a fun way to keep you guys in the loop, and also to keep myself motivated and productive while I work by sharing my thoughts as I go.

This time, I'll be rambling about focusing on the characters as I'm still in the thick of developing personalities and interpretations in the Seams universe, and I'd love to put all the thoughts that have been rattling around my brain into words to help me process it.

I will be tagging these posts as 'behind the seams' together with the chapter number 'seams iii' so you can filter this out if you don't want to see them! For those who are interested, let's dive in below the cut!

Current status: 3.2k written, fully outlined rough draft with most of the dialogue drafted.

Initial thoughts: This chapter wrote far more easily than I expected to so far. Each story is different, but I tend to find the 3rd to 5th chapters hardest to write, when you're building up the shape of the arc of the whole series.

I'm still keeping my options open with regards to what Seams is or can be, but I'm still thinking 'loose fit series' i.e. there won't be a solid, overarching story arc or ending to the series since it's not a plot-driven story. It will be interesting to see if my approach changes after a couple more chapters!

The challenge: The first two instalments were so hyper-zoomed in on Joel and Pin, I knew that the challenge for this chapter is pulling back the camera and seeing how they interact with each other outside the safety of the Outfitters, and how they fit into the wider community.

Joel and Pin: I was re-reading Threads in preparation for writing Part III, and what strikes me is that these two really don't know a lot about one another. They've barely had a fully formed conversation despite the forced proximity and some very charged moments in the last two chapters. I've tentatively written most of their dialogue in this chapter, and it's interesting that a couple of times, I've stopped myself and thought - is this too playful for a shy person like Pin? Is it too familiar with two people who are practically strangers, despite their chemistry? It's a balance that I'll have to find as I edit, and I'm excited to see how it turns out.

Tommy: For some reason, Tommy comes fairly easily to me, a testament to Pedro and Gabriel’s chemistry on screen. Without giving too much away, I'm really happy with the angle I found for Joel and Tommy in this chapter. There's a lot to unpack between the two brothers, but the happy occasion means that I can focus on the good part of their relationship for now. However, I am keeping the tensions in their history in my back pocket because I don't want to gloss over the very real and three-dimensional relationship we saw in the series.

Ellie: I've talked about how I'm nervous about writing Ellie. My Pedro boys are all lone wolves - sure they have their best friends (Teak to Palomino!Jack, Santi to Grays!Frankie, Pete/Rebecca to Consent!Dieter), but Ellie is Joel's kid, and she's part of his life more than any BFF is to my other Pedro boys. Luckily, I have found an in with Ellie that I think works well with the story in Part III, and also fits in with the broader direction of the fic. It's going to be nerve-wrecking, but I'm ready to write her into Seams!

Tess: I'm not in a place to say too much yet about Tess, but it's so important to me that she isn't erased from the Seams universe despite her not being there. I've been thinking a lot about Tess lately, about how she will fit into the story, how Joel will fit Pin into his and in relation to Tess. There are no easy answers, and it will be something to mull over in the next few chapters.

Something fun: Ok, all this character stuff is pretty heavy, so I want to end on a light-hearted note - Joel's tummy makes a cameo in a white undervest 😌

And that's it for Behind the Seams: Part III! I feel a lot lighter having found a space for all the things I have been thinking about while drafting the chapter. I hope this was a fun deep dive for you guys as well, I'll be hitting Google Docs hard this weekend to try to get all of the writing done for Part III so that I can start editing next week. My askbox is always open if anyone wants to chat 🥰

[themissingnumbers]

Hello, you wonderful people! I'm back, so you know what that means ;) It's everybody's favorite time—Theory Time! (More like me yapping about little things my brain hyperfocused on and wouldn't let me stop thinking about but I digress-) You all know how I function by now. I write things down in the order I think of them, so things are probably gonna be really scattered (also I'm writing this at 2:30 in the morning), but if you can look past all of that, then I hope you enjoy my ramblings.

In this Special Edition of The New Yap Times: More on the References, some Observations, and Assorted Theories.

Hoo-boy. Where do I even start? I never even know if my thoughts make sense before I write them down, so I guess we'll see where this goes lmao. Okay-

Talking Point 1: Fire.

Thoughts—I have many thoughts—so let's get started. Let's go over the flavor text in Fire's Reference first. That stuff gives me bad vibes. I don't like the way it makes me feel because I don't feel like it's Fire saying any of it. It's like a third party (Arceus?) trying to warn us using the reference as a medium. But, in the same breath, I'd also say that it sounds like a plea, or potentially a taunt. And maybe it's just me who feels like the flavor text over the spoiler guards is a taunt, because for me, whoever is speaking is right! Whoever is speaking is absolutely right about me—I would never hurt him, not intentionally at the very least—but don't tell me what I'm gonna do or what I'm thinking!

Okay, hear me out. I'm on the train of "If learning something about a character hurts them, then I'm okay not knowing", but I know that a lot of people aren't riding the same train as me. And that's exactly why the whole "You'd never hurt him like that. Of this, I am sure." line bothers me so much. I know players—nay—I know humans, and if anyone takes it as a taunt as I did initially, or, god forbid, as a challenge, then this whole thing could end in catastrophe for Fire. If whoever-the-fuck is writing/speaking the flavor text over the spoilers is using it as an elaborate plan to make us "betray" Fire and to make him trust people less when someone inevitably pushes things too far then I swear- Listen, and I hate using this phrase, but it's giving manipulation and I don't fuck with that. (<- is all of this Paranoia? Am I just being Paranoid? I think I may be Paranoid. I need to calm down-) (My brain goes in strange directions sometimes. I believe this is one of those times, but I still wrote it down anyway.)

OKAY, BUT ALSO- Why is Fire's base blacked out? Like, the only parts we can see are what I'm assuming are his Casual and his Trainer/Legendary clothes, and I can understand why the Soul form would be blacked out, but why the base? I'm just assuming that something in his design changed a lot, like his scars or something, so they blacked it out for a big reveal later down the line, but it still bugs me. Why would the most "vulnerable" and "real" parts of him be blacked out when it isn't for anyone else? Leaf, Blue, and Red all have their bases revealed with scars and all, but not Fire. Is the veil hiding some sort of vulnerability, and that's why it's in place? To keep Fire looking strong and like the "very best" that he's supposed to be? I'm not gonna point any fingers but, uh, I find it very suspicious that we're only seeing the perfect and put-together "Fire" Red that Arceus wants the world to see.

The second thing I wanna talk about is the fact that Fire is Friendless. Like, for a man of such status, surely he has some friends, right? Well, no... Not anymore at least. I know this sounds weird, and that my brain does odd things, but let me tell you why I'm pointing this out. Let's go over Fire's friends list real quick. I think we got: Blue, Leaf, and Gold. Some of you may say that Leaf doesn't count, and that's okay, but I say she does. And Red isn't on this list because I don't think they've ever met face-to-face in canon before. Anyways, let's go over those three relationships, shall we? While I'm not 100% sure about most of these, I'm going to describe what I've picked up about their relationships and how I see them.

Blue/Fire: Complicated. That's all I can really say about these two, is that it's complicated. If my memory serves, I think that complicated is how Starry described their relationship too, so I can't call them enemies, but I definitely can't call them friends either.

Leaf/Fire: Strained. While it's probably not as complicated as whatever the fuck Blue and Fire have going on, it's definitely complex. It's not a friendship with these two, it's a familial relationship, and that's what makes it difficult. I'm sure that, deep inside somewhere, both Leaf and Fire still love each other—they're siblings after all—but that all of the stuff that's happened in their lives has opened up a giant ravine between them that neither of them knows how to bridge. They can't close that gap, so their relationship is strained. They love each other, but the tension between them is palpable. There's bitterness, there's anger, there's resentment, there's regret and sadness, and maybe if you look hard enough—there might just be a flicker of longing in both of them to repair their relationship. But for now, they're miles apart, and it doesn't look like they're getting closer any time soon. I wouldn't call those two friends.

Gold/Fire: We'll... I'm sure that these two were good friends at one point. Fire still thinks about him, and even seems to miss him or grieve him. But unfortunately, Gold is Dead, so we'll never truly know unless Fire decides to confide in us about it.

Now, it just seems like Fire really doesn't have any friends. And I would have let all of this slide had it not been for ONE THING. The Espeon. Fire's Espeon was always a point of interest for me because I wondered where it went and what the Missing Numbers creators were going to do with the missing Pokémon. As it turns out, the Espeon is now in Leaf's possession. Initially, I was like "Oh okay that's kinda cool" but now I'm like "WAIT-! SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH THIS!" Why is it that the only Pokémon in Fire's Team to Evolve via Friendship was removed from his party? Had this just been either the Espeon or the strained/distant relationships, I wouldn't have noticed anything, but this cannot be a coincidence. Nothing is a coincidence in Missing Numbers. With how the universe keeps removing friends from his life, it's like he's purposefully being Isolated to an extreme degree. Like something or someone wants him to be completely alone...

AND THE LAST THING ABOUT FIRE- (I'm so sorry for yapping about Fire this much, I swear. I told you I had a lot of thoughts, and there's still more after this.) That section in his new Bio/Description saying "But every time he vanishes and appears again, it's always from that same mountain, his gaze duller at every return." gave me an entire theory all on its own. What if all of the isolation is intentional? What if Arceus is intentionally ruining all of Fire's relationships, killing his friends and pulling him away from his family, isolating him from the world at the top of a freezing-cold mountain (I'm assuming with the help of Leaf under the guise of "protecting him") where none of his Pokémon can safely exit their Pokéballs without risking death? We know that Fire is a pretty warm individual beneath that cold exterior—he's a sweetheart—and Arceus doesn't want him to be. What if Arceus is trying to (no pun intended) ice out what little bit of emotional warmth and personality that Fire has left in him, and is slowly succeeding? Like, he's trying to snuff out the real Fire and leave behind the Red husk that he wants as his perfect protagonist.

Jesus Christ, finally- Talking Point 2: Red. (I know, we're going right back to a Red. But these next parts are going to be smaller than Fire's don't worry-)

Man, this weirdo... Where do I even start with him? First things first, let's lock in on that skin of his bruh. WHY does he look like that??? The only time I've ever seen any person with skin even remotely like his is when looking at people with Albinism, and even they aren't that white. Red is like... ghostly white. White as a sheet. Dead as a damn Doornail white. I don't know how to describe him other than the fact that he looks dead! Genuinely! I guess that my current running theory is still kinda similar to the Parasite one I made a while back, but like... worse??? (I've been at this for 5 hours straight. Can you tell I'm running out of steam?) I feel like I don't know enough to make a proper theory about him yet; like I need to reevaluate everything I've been seeing this far like I did with Fire. Is Red really Red? Is it just a small part of him that's there? Is it MissingNo in Red's body, using his memories to try and trick us? He kept mentioning "the right opportunity" back when we were talking with him. When is that opportunity? What does it look like? How much has changed behind the scenes? And how is that one little "Hey. That's private. :/" thing a secret when he LITERALLY spilled his guts not even two inches to the left? I don't know! There are too many questions and I'm too tired to answer them myself this time. :|

Talking Point 3: Something much smaller this time :]

Okay, I guess I'll throw in some of the random bits and things I thought of that didn't really get a whole spot. (This is already too long-)

Is it just me, or does the flavor text kinda read like an automated voice message? Like "Sorry! The number you have dialed has been disconnected or is no longer in service." type stuff, which kinda fits with the theme of Blue being a busybody and always doing something, or that's what I get from his new Bio at least. To me, Leaf's flavor text kinda reads as bitter. You already know what I think about Fire's flavor text, and Red's is... Yeah, that's just him talking.

Also, Green is hella cool! That mask is sick! (Psst! Mod Hells! Hey, you make a cool ass character homie. I like their mysteriousness and look forward to seeing more of them. Keep it up!)

And, closing statements time! Jesus, I'm gonna apologize again for how long this is. I didn't mean to make it super messy like this but it's currently 7 something in the morning for me and my brain shut off halfway through writing this, so... whoops :/ Anyway, funny story really quick! Starry, I know you had no idea you even did this, so I gotta tell you. The day after I posted that Character Reference Analysis thingy, I ended up getting sick and was messed up for a couple of days, but then you posted that drawing of Aster and I swear to you it was like you shocked my body back into being healthy because 24 hours later I'm damn near over the sickness and am phasing out the last of my symptoms as I write this. So, I know you didn't mean to, but thanks anyway! :D

Okay! And with that out of the way, I think that's all, folks! I hope you enjoyed this odd edition of my thoughts. Until next time. Thank you for reading The New Yap Times!

.

[haitani-bruvz]

FAMILY AFFAIRS

Chapter 3 preview

First Meetings: Mikey

previous part

EDIT-- full chapter here

Shinichiro x Reader, Mikey x Reader, Izana x Reader

Please enjoy this little sneak peek of the upcoming chapter :) Full chapter coming this Monday!

DARK CONTENT!!! MDNI READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Series TW: Yandere, smut, murder, noncon/dubcon, drugging, kidnapping, pseudo-incest (reader is considered a sibling but not blood-related), physical abuse, emotional abuse, mentions of child abuse, and neglectful parents, ages of characters are shifted around a bit (Shin is younger)

August 1st, 1998

'I just hope he isn't mad at me,' you thought, nervously picking at the loose threads on your t-shirt as you waited for Shinichiro to come back from locking up his motorcycle.

Your thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sound of a throat being cleared.

You looked up to see a young boy approaching with a serious expression.

He had short blonde hair, but his black eyes were strikingly similar to Shinichiro's.

The boy wasted no time sizing you up, approaching you with a question that caught you off guard.

"You're new," he said, with a challenging tone. "You here to fight me?"

The question surprised you, and you were momentarily lost for words. You had grown accustomed to people avoiding you at the orphanage because of Izana's intimidating presence, so you weren't used to people interacting with you, let alone someone so confident in their demeanor.

Before you could respond, Shinichiro walked in and quickly defused the situation. "Hey, what did I tell you about picking fights with people," he asked, whacking the blonde in the back of his head. "This is YN, a friend from the orphanage. YN, this is my little brother, Manjiro,"

little brother...?

The blonde let out a hum, suddenly very invested in your presence.

'Orphanage?" he eyed you suspiciously before continuing, "So do you know Iz-",

Shinichiro quickly interrupted him, shooting him a warning look.

"Don't even start, Manji."

Shinichiro's voice was low and tense, sending a chill down YN's spine. He seemed to notice the sudden shift in your posture, because not even a second later, he was sending you a smile as if to calm you down.

Mikey pouted, clearly disappointed that he was interrupted. But after a moment, he agreed to put the challenge on hold. "If Shin-nii says you're a friend, then I guess you're cool…but call me Mikey, not Manjiro, okay yn-chan?" he said, extending his hand.

You shook his hand back, but you couldn't help but feel a sense of whiplash from the sudden change in their attitudes.

"He's always like that with new people," Shinichiro explained, ruffling your hair reassuringly. "Don't take it personally. Grandpa should be back with Emma soon, so why don't you two go play and get to know each other better? Well have that cake I promised when they're here."

You nodded, unsure what to make of the situation, and allowed Mikey to drag you into his room. He rambled on about a toy plane Shinichiro had gotten him and about his misadventures with his friends, whom he promised to introduce you to next time. While you were interested in meeting his friends, you weren't so sure about this Kazutora kid. Mikey's stories didn't paint him as the friendliest, and you had a feeling Izana wouldn't approve of you befriending someone who seemed to have an even shorter fuse than he had.

As the day progressed and you spent more time with Mikey, you found yourself enjoying his company. He was funny and kind, and his warm black eyes reminded you so much of Shinichiro- someone you had really begun to grow fond of. Yet, despite all of that, there was a nagging feeling in the back of your mind that something was off about him, something dark and dangerous working under the surface. You couldn't quite put your finger on it, but you knew that there was more to Mikey than meets the eye.

Please comment or message me to be tagged 💚💚

[mioreviews]

Beyond the Best 3: Shoujo Manga

Welcome back to <Beyond the Best> where I post lesser known manga that isn't mind-blowing but still good reads! I love shoujo, so I end up reading a lot. So it's shoujo (aka "young girl" aka romance/drama) time~ (>∀<☆)

In the Clear Moonlit Dusk

9/10, ongoing manga about a handsome boy-ish girl who is known as the "school prince" and her love life. It's a very cute first love manga, and the art is very cute. The art and romance style kind of gives off <A Sign of Affection> vibes (as in their relationship is similar, but the character types are different). If you haven't read or watched <A Sign of Affection> (manga review link), it's a very cute and wholesome romance story.

The main reason why I didn't post an individual review on this (since 9/10 review is pretty high) is because there aren't many chapters out. I feel like I can't make a good judge on it overall, so I put it here.

Studio Cabana

8/10, ongoing manga about a quiet, "dark and mysterious" boy who is the lead singer for a band and a very cute, wholesome, studious girl. This story has a "girl likes the guy but the guy doesn't realize" story. I like how the romance unfolds slowly. Many themes about learning about love, friendship, and mental health. Warning: There are suggestive scenes aka slight nudity. There is also relationship toxicity.

Perfect World

7.5/10, finished manga about a girl running into her high school first love as working adults. The girl, now an adult, is shocked to learn that her first love is now in a wheelchair, but her forgotten feelings begin to bloom again. Cute story with its highs and lows as the couple navigate their relationship. I like the themes of the challenges and relationships of disabled and non-disabled people. [Edit: I finished this manga and changed my review score from an 8/10 to a 7.5/10. There are better shoujo manga than this, but I still thought it was a unique story.]

──── ⋆⋅⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋅⋆ ────

That's it! There are a lot more, but out of all the ones I'm reading right now, these would be the series I want to review and recommend most. Maybe in the future, I can do a part 2 with more ( ´ ꒳ ` )

[bardic-inspo]

I would love to ask you a million of these but I’ll settle for three (if you feel like answering them, of course)! 🥤 🧃🎨

Thanks for participating!!! 💛

Ahh you are so sweet, thank you so much!! 😘💜💜

[Writer's Truth or Dare Ask Game] 🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love

There are SO many massively talented writers out there, many of which are still on my ever-growing to-read list. I wanna send some love to @littlejuicebox's multichapter fic, Midwinter Carol, which I'm about halfway through and absolutely loving so far!

It has: Ascended Astarion! Pining for someone who's right in front of you! Divorced yearning! Beautiful, poetic prose! Just absolutely *chef's kiss* Astarion characterization! Such a compelling protagonist in Eirianwen. Girl has got backbone and I'm excited to get to know her more and see how she complements and challenges our boy. And just a the perfect balance of angst and flirty hopefulness.

The actual fic summary (below) is much better than mine. You can read the fic on AO3 or Tumblr:

Fifteen years after the Ascendant and his lover went their separate ways, they run into one another at Wyll Ravengard’s Midwinter Gala. One dance is all they share. A week later, a cataclysm of events, spurned by Eirianwen’s return, uproots the life Astarion had been building for himself. One thing is made certain: the elven sorceress is the key to any ounce of salvation he may have left, if only she stops slipping through his fingers like sand from an hourglass. But old habits die hard, and old feelings are pulled to the surface for both the elves. Astarion is forced to confront the wounds of his past and deal with the damage he's done while trying to run from himself. The Ascendant is forced to decide whether he will continue on his current path or forge a new one... perhaps one that leads him back to the love of his life.

🧃 ⇢ share some personal lore you never posted about before

Hmm, I think I maybe talked about this on Twitter once, but not here. Well, I'm now pretty firmly in the agnostic (if not atheist) camp, but my parents pushed me to get confirmed as a kid (we were Lutheran). And I went to a church where, part of the youth group program was performing a traveling mime show of the passion story. Like, full on face-paint, black turtlenecks, miming Jesus getting crucified. There was a super eerie soundtrack and narration that went with it. Lots of drama over whether any of the girls could try-out for the Jesus role. Whipping sound effects. Absolutely no disrespect to anyone finding religious insight through art and whatnot. It just feels a little weird and uncomfy to me personally in retrospect. But then, religion really isn't for me. Most of the other confirmation programs I heard about my classmates doing had like, community service projects instead.

🎨 ⇢ link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like it

My first commissioned piece of Astarion and my main Tav (Naomi) was just finished tonight and I'm riding a cloud about it. They're so soft with each other and the artist did such a lovely job 🥹

There is SO much incredible BG3 and Astarion art out there. This piece really stands out to me, too. I just love how they captured Astarion's tender expression here, and how lovely he looks in this lighting:

[tiredassmage]

27, 13, and 7 for the new Rook questions!

Thank you, thank you, you know I always love talking about my beloved son <3

[50 questions for Rook (story-edition?)]

7. Did Rook ever encounter the Blight before the events of the game?

For better or worse, Tyr's called Minrathous home for as long as he can remember, which has certainly presented its own challenges, but Blight, at least, wasn't one of them. The kind of corruption that's familiar to him is what he might, on his more sullen days, accuse of being peoples' own - no potentially-apocalyptic deviations needed, something that has at least some kind of rooting back in being raised by a Tevinter military family with lessons about due deference and keeping your head down. Also the same kind of talk that made him so keen to join the Shadow Dragons when the offer came.

13. Which companion did Rook romance? What was the moment they fell in love?

Neve! You're allowed to say I'm predictable!!! 😭I swear I mean it when I didn't go in with any particular expectations or plans, but in hindsight, frankly of course he'd fall for Neve Gallus.

I do think there was a sort of natural gravitation to her for their shared work with the Shadows - that told him more than enough for him to take her advice on matters. As for how it happened? I'm not sure there's a single moment where he fell forward on his face about it, though I'm sure the moment he realized he'd fallen for her was a bit more matched to that description, lol. Probably... that first outing to the docks over Hal's fried fish? Okay, so maybe that wasn't the completely liable to trip over himself about her moment, but I think it's the beginning of his realizing he... really wants to get to know her. More. For all her talk of realism bordering on pessimism she accuses herself of, the Neve Gallus he sees is a woman determined to hold on to the little slice of hope she does have, and someone whose not, perhaps, as completely downtrodden about the world as she may seem. Her sense of humor never missing a chance to tease about tripping him up over what he's trying to say - even when it isn't flirting, or the gentle amusement with Bellara and Tevinter serials.

I think there's a lot of similarities between them that draw them together. Yes, they share the same goals with ties to the Shadow Dragons, but I think... even on a more personal outlook kind of note... maybe that they feel rather similarly about those goals? Or at least Tyr believes with a fairly high amount of certainty Neve isn't so far from believing ideals aren't entirely fairy-tales herself. And he wants to see more of that Neve Gallus - the hints through the cracks with the jokes and the fondness for the team, for the wisps (as much of a headache as them rearranging her notes may be), for Assan... for something a little... better, perhaps.

And, boy... that's when I think he falls hard. That side of her that's more playful, almost a bit... lighter. When he gets it in his head that he wants to prove that that side of her still has a place in it all, to encourage it and see more of it? There was no helping that man, and even two risen would-be gods weren't going to stop him from trying. And that's why he's Trouble. :3

27. Does Rook like being in charge of their team?

Honestly? For the most part, I think the answer is yeah. It's not probably much of a surprise given what made him fall so hard for Neve, but Tyr... does enjoy helping people he cares about - quite a bit. It's nothing to do with the title of the position and everything to do with just... enjoying being a person or a space they can come to for support. Someone they can count on.

And that's a boon to having a small, specialized team to him considering things as a leader. They get to know each other's strengths well, and get to build with focus then on how best to support one another.

Granted, the other side of this is that Tyr's not really the type to slow down until the pressing matters are handled to consider what wear and tear has worn him down, and even when actively questioned about it, his first response is generally to put aside what's troubling his own mind to ensure others are managing alright enough first. I can collapse when this over and all that.

But the Lighthouse would never have felt remotely like home, or even perhaps... 'safe,' if you will, without the team - the people - around him. At the end of most days, I think... Tyr generally believes most people are good. The world is good. And it does a lot, I think, for him to have the kind of moments where that's exercised - building a team and being allowed to walk a part of their journey with them, for example, let alone how grand some of those journeys can seem on paper. The return of the griffons to Thedas, what it's like trying to navigate family, even... It's always nice knowing you're not alone having dreams and hopes in life after all, right? And those can be a lot easier to find when you've got someone ready to offer you hand when the inevitable stumbles happen. Bring the Light, as the Shadows say.

What can I say? Under whatever understanding of the realities of politics and betrayals and the other machinations that make the world go 'round, especially in a place like Tevinter, he always was a man of deep ideals. And people are... unpredictable, by nature. There's a lot of charm to that for him, on the sunnier days. And if he keeps looking off the docks like this at me I'm gonna start playfully teasing him about waxing over-poetic about it, but then he did also regularly moonlight as a pianist (a hobby he still enjoys, mind), so perhaps there'd be some truth to it, too. :3

He's stealing your music room, Solas. No take-backs.

[webbedphantom]

Shadow Spider

So, I've mentioned this concept before, even posted a bit of the edits I made for it, but I never fully went into detail about it, just showed off the design. And since I've been seeing a lot of Shadow Joker recently, both in fanart and different verses of the Joker's I follow, I figured it was finally time to go in depth with the idea

(Edit: This has been sitting in my drafts for MONTHS, but I finally got it to a point where I feel like sharing it. So here you go!)

The Set Up

During a routine patrol, Aaron comes across his version of Mysterio, breaking into a lab researching the Metaverse and how it effects the mind. This version of the Illusionist is somewhat inspired by Scarecrow from DC. Instead of using special effects from movies, he uses a hallucinogenic gas, a gas he's also addicted to, to warp his victim's perception of reality. In small doses, it can heavily disorient someone. In larger doses, and with a bit of mental prodding from ol' Fishbowl head, the victim will be thrown into whatever ridiculous scenario Mysterio decides to put them through.

And it's that last part that he's looking to enhance, planning to add a chemical compound found in this lab to make the people under the influence of his gas MUCH more susceptible to persuasion.

Now whether or not this is the first time Aaron's fought Mysterio (originally it was, but now I'm not so sure), he'd still be new enough to his tricks that fighting the guy is a struggle. And during that struggle, he'd end up shattering a container holding the compound, allowing its fumes to mix with the gas already in the room, giving Mysterio exactly what he needs to get the edge over the Spider.

Mysterio makes him believe that he got away, that he failed to stop him, and that single suggestion planted a seed that would spread like wildfire.

Aaron has a lot of insecurities, a lot of doubts about if he deserves his powers or not, a lot of fears of letting everyone down, and this suggestion plays into that and cranks it up to eleven.

He starts seeing hallucinations of his friends, all mocking him, all tearing into him for failing, telling him how much better they'd be with his powers, how they were wasted on a loser like him.

And he just breaks. Because he believes every word of it.

Not to mention, the illusions are so realistic, and his mind and heart get so messed up from this, that he can't even tell what's real anymore. As far as he knows, his friends really said all that, and that really tears him up inside.

So, this isn't exactly a typical shadow. His desires haven't been naturally distorted, they've been twisted by a lie he was fed by Mysterio's gas, and that slowly begins to infect every part of his mind.

In and Out of the Mask

Aaron's unique bond allows him to keep some of his powers, despite no longer having access to Arséne, though he's been made far weaker as a result. Even still, he'd be a challenge for any regular person to take on, and if they're his friends, they'll probably have to take him on. (You'll see why in a bit)

But this distortion has also made the difference between him in the costume and not a lot more distinct.

Aaron outside of the mask has been made a total mess. He shuts himself into his room, refusing to talk to anyone. And if anyone tries to talk with him, especially his teammates, he begs them to leave, seeming almost terrified of them. He's barely eating, barely sleeping, hardly taking care of himself at all. He doesn't see himself as worth... anything when he's not wearing the mask. Which only causes him to spend more and more time in it.

In the mask, however, he's a much different beast. Whereas Aaron reacts to his distortions with fear, the Spider reacts in anger. And because his costume is cognitive, it has changed to match his new outlook.

He's lashing out at the world, brutally beating any criminals he comes across. And if he comes across any of his teammates, HOO BOY they better shocking run. The distorted illusions of his friends have made him despise them, actually reversing his social links with them. Meaning the closer he was with them before, the more he hates them now.

And this distortion isn't stagnant either, it grows and evolves over time. At first, it's only his teammates that appear in the hallucinations, but slowly more and more of his confidants begin to appear, all throwing out the same insults and vitriol, starting with the ones he was closest to and working its way down the list. And as we'll later see in his palace, its effecting his memories too, slowly erasing all the good times he's had with his friends, until all he can remember is the pain and the hatred he feels right now.

If left unchecked, he might start lashing out at more than just his friends and random thugs, but the citizens as well. After all, who else has thrown more hatred his way than the general public, who sees him as nothing more than a menace?

Two Different Paths

Now, obviously his friends are going to want to save him, to change his heart and get him back to the way he was. But it doesn't have to be through his Palace.

Since in the AU there is no MetaNav, obviously any version of this event set there would require a method to change his heart without entering it. Which is part of why I went for this unnatural shadow approach. Sure, changing a heart without the Metaverse isn't impossible, but this makes it a bit easier. Though it's still not a cakewalk.

Mainly, the IRL version of this would be figuring out what's wrong with him, maybe through an investigation, or just picking it up from context clues he drops. Then it's just a matter of convincing/reminding him of the good times, of how much they care about him, and how they're not willing to give up on him and let him suffer alone. This would naturally mean coming to blows with the Spider a couple of times, but eventually they would be able to get through to him, and help him break through the illusions Mysterio had infected him with.

The Palace version... well, that's a bit more complicated.

The Spider's Palace

Now because I never got to finish this event properly, I was going to put this section under a read-more. But because it's so complex and dense that it's why this post has been sitting in my drafts since December, I'm gonna just make a seperate post for that at some point down the line, since I really like this concept and want more people to know about it to (maybe) spin this event off into its own verse and do some in-depth threads for it.

So yeah, that post will come eventually. I've actually just put everything I'd written so far in a Google Doc so I wouldn't lose any progress. In the meantime, let me know what you think!

[freneticfloetry]

monday mourning

share your toughest writing challenge -- dialogue, plot, overwriting, underwriting, mechanics (grammar, punctuation)?

Thanks to @rmd-writes, @reyesstrand, and @liminalmemories21 for the tags. Behold, my neuroses:

1. Inflexibility. My brain is an asshole (thanks, ADHD!), and I have to write completely linearly and in total silence. So there's no "write what you're most excited about and come back to the rest" or "put on a playlist for inspiration while you write." And god forbid I've come up with some sort of narrative theme or throughline (like the play on three act structure in scenes from an unfinished story or naming each of the chapters in to build a home after the back half of "home is" statements that are thematically applicable to the seven scenes that chapter contains). Once that's in my head, there's no deviating from it — which is part of how I end up with three-chapter fics that are 75k.

2. Indulgence. Speaking of… Oh how I long to be a writer who can tell stories in stark, sparse, straight-to-the-gut prose, that no-frills perfection that so many authors I love have mastered. Alas, I am a wordy bitch. I write paragraph-length sentences. I push punctuation to its very limits. I once posted a 33k chapter. I will never say in a hundred words what I could say in a thousand, which is probably why I have never mastered the art of the drabble. And it isn't just word count, it's character work. Give me two snarky boys with complicated feelings for each other and I will let them banter for hours. (My next Tarlos fic, for the @tarlosweddingcelebration event, needs to be done in snippet-style scenes I haven't tackled in ages, so we'll see how that goes.)

3. Raging Perfectionism. If I could just write now and edit later, I would be so much more productive than I am. As it stands, the red pen never leaves my hand — I edit as I write, changing things constantly until I feel like everything works. I'm obsessive about the perfect word use, about dialogue being true to character, about pulling each thread I've previously laid so that everything ties together. There is no such thing as a first draft, for me — by the time I reach the end of a fic or a chapter, the whole thing is close to final because I've edited so much already. As you can imagine, this makes for an extremely slow writing process. I have no idea how to rectify this. I tried writing straight through once, as part of a sprint spree, and it literally gave me hives.

Also summaries. I hate summaries.

Tag, you're it (but no pressure!): @mixtapestar, @finnglas, @hoko-onchi-writes, @rubickk7, @eidetictelekinetic, @carlos-in-glasses

[x-press-it]

Devilish Desires - 3/8

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

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

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

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

Content Warnings (for the whole story): Smut 18+ (Dry humping, Edging, Unprotected p in v.) - Dom!Logan into Sub!Logan - Pet Names (Good boy, pretty boy, pet, pup, amongst others…) reversed age gap (Logan is younger) - OC Notes: Established name, backstory, powers, fighting style, female body but gender fluid character (Logan misgender them at first because he doesn’t know, even in the descriptions) - Mention of other character from the MCU and subtle references to the comics for flavor (not mandatory to understand what is happening) - Flash back and mention of past trauma - Very quick mentions of drugs - Fluff with Dark Undertones: Emotional tension and possessive affection - Worship Themes: Religious imagery, reverent language and awe - Ancient Mysticism: References to otherworldly or demonic presence - Mental Health: Power dynamics, personal vulnerabilities - Trope: Rivals to lovers.

I'm back after 10 years of iatus and fairly new to how things are done on tumblr now, so sorry if I missed any warnings. Also english isn't my first language so there might be typos/weird sentences...

Notes: Got very inspired by sub!Logan and repeated listening of "Between wind and water" by Hael. Cover made with canva from an idea I got from this post. If you know who made the picture, tell me so I can credit them - Click on the divider to find the creator. Also this was meant to be an imagine turned into a full story. Just so you know, some chapters are very short, other are long. I'm in the process of editing/writing/rewriting parts so I'll post a chapter everytime I have one fully edited. This chapter was hard to wrestle with, but I won! Mention of legal stuff but I'm no lawyer so there might be inconsistencies ^^" Also brace yourself, power shift incoming.

Need some music? I've got you

Previously: in Devilish Desires

Chapters: 3/8

Word Count: 7.1K / 60K+ for now

Sunlight filtered through the wide windows of Charles' office, casting a warm glow over the mahogany desk and polished floors. Logan paused in the doorway, feeling the familiar tension coil through him even before he fully entered. His gut twisted as he took in the sight of E leaning casually against the desk, one hip propped up, her head already turned toward the door, watching him approach. The calm, focused look on her face set him on edge, like she was always one step ahead, pulling unseen strings. Every time he saw her, it felt like she dug her claws deeper into his space, into him, without even trying.

"Logan, come in." The professor’s voice was warm, though there was a hint of tiredness to it. "We were just finishing up. Have a seat."

Logan ignored the invitation, his arms crossing over his chest as his eyes locked on E. “What’s this about?”

Charles gestured to the papers on his desk. "As you know, the school is growing, and with that comes more scrutiny from the government." He glanced at E, then back to Logan. "That’s why we worked on some contracts—to make everything as official and seamless as possible. We want things above board, so no one has any reason to be suspicious of us."

Logan’s pulse quickened as Charles spoke, each word digging into a place he’d thought had scarred over but never truly healed. He could feel the weight of the documents between them, a weight pressing down on his chest, squeezing until he couldn’t breathe. Just the mention of those papers, the mere sight of them, was like a trigger pulled—snapping him back to shadows he’d fought to bury. Contracts meant control; control meant deceit. Old instincts roared awake, instincts that told him to fight, to claw his way free. His mind twisted back, unbidden, to the sharp crack of a pen against paper, his name signed under false pretenses. Faces flashed before him, cold and detached, each one using him as if he were nothing more than sharpened adamantium, each one an anchor dragging him back to glimpses of a past he desperately tried to escape, yet crave to piece back together at the same time.

Memories slammed together—soldiers' cries, the dead weight of bodies, his own silent rage coiled like barbed wire around his gut. Promises broken, betrayals… He could barely register the room around him, the walls that meant safety and acceptance. All he felt now was the past closing in, like a cage—restrictive, suffocating. And then a single thought broke through, a rough mantra, ringing into his head, so loud it pulled him from the spiral: “Today is victory over yourself of yesterday…”

Logan blinked hard, shaking his head as he forced himself back to his senses, the slow ache of his claws tearing through his knuckles breaking through the fog. With gritted teeth, he pulled them back before they became visible. After a short sigh, his eyes flicked from the papers to E, then to Charles, his scowl deepening. “This is bullshit. I’m not some soldier you can pin down with paperwork, Chuck.” His voice was low, the ghost of past betrayals still burning in his chest as his hand clenched tightly at his side. “I don’t belong to anyone, and I sure as hell don’t need to be tied up in a contract like this. I’ve been here long enough, and I’m not about to start following rules that don’t make sense to me.”

Charles clasped his hands together on his desk, his voice soft but firm, trying to ease the distress he saw in his friend’s behavior. “Logan, you’re right,” he validated, calm yet earnest. “You’re no soldier here—you’re a mentor, and you’ve proven that. But this contract is necessary. You know the risks; despite Raven’s actions, the government is still watching mutants closely after all these years. These contracts are for the teachers’ protection, for the students, and for the school itself.”

His expression was calm, deliberate, like he was teaching a class. Logan could see the weight of responsibility on Charles's shoulders, a reminder of the burdens they all carried. “It’s a formality to ensure you’re recognized as part of the staff. If they start asking questions, this contract might be our best defense.”

He held Logan’s gaze, the tension building in the air between them. In a quieter tone, he added, “This isn’t about control; it’s about security. If something were to happen, this paperwork could mean the difference between staying under the radar and drawing unwanted attention.” Logan felt a flicker of unease at the thought but pushed it aside, his feral pride refusing to let him show any weakness in front of E.

He shook his head, the tension in his shoulders thickening with each word. “A formality? Security? It’s a damn leash, that’s what it is! And I know she’s behind this.” His tone was sharp, the accusation clear as his chin jerked toward E, his eyes still on Charles.

E raised a brow, a slight smirk dancing at the corner of their lips. “They,” they corrected smoothly, their voice slipping in like silk over a blade.

Logan’s eyes snapped to her face, his brows knitting in confusion, anger swirling in his glare. “What?”

“You said ‘she,’” E explained, their tone lilting with amusement, not even flinching under the weight of his gaze. “I prefer ‘they.’”

For a second, Logan blinked, caught off guard. The shift in their demeanor—so detached, almost playful—disarmed him. It was a rare response to his fury, and it chipped away at the anger bubbling in his chest. He gave a quick, gruff nod, like a student getting a slap on the wrist for falling into a master’s trap. “Right. They.”

His lips pressed into a firm line, the weight of the situation settling like a stone in his gut. Yet, that primal part of him refused to fold so easily. “But that ain’t the point. The point is, I’m not signing a damn thing before I’ve read it. I’m not some teacher that punches a clock. You know me, Charles.”

Charles nodded, like he expected this. “I do, my friend. And I don’t want to force you into anything you’re uncomfortable with. But it’s necessary. If you’re going to keep mentoring, you need to be recognized officially as part of the school’s staff.”

Logan’s jaw clenched as his gaze flicked from the papers back to E, who hadn’t taken their eyes off him. His fingers twitched, itching to pull at the collar of his shirt, the weight of the contract already tightening around his neck.

A metallic muffled sound came from under E’s jacket’s sleeve as they shifted, leaning into their stance with one hand on Charles’ desk, the other resting on their waist and Logan’s eyes were drawn, almost against his will, to the subtle curve of their chest beneath the deep red blouse. The top few buttons were undone, revealing just a hint of cleavage, a thin golden chain that held a delicate white pearl, resting against their skin. For a second, his thoughts strayed before he forced his gaze back up, catching the faint hint of their dark horns just peeking from under their hair—a sharp reminder of exactly who he was dealing with.

“It’s just official paperwork, Logan,” they said, voice smooth with a playful lilt, enjoying the ripple of energy they felt from him as his thoughts wandered, though their expression stayed composed. “I can help you with the legal mumbo jumbo if you’re having trouble. I’d be happy to give you a private lesson… walk you through all the fine print, personally.”

Logan’s cheeks flushed, just for a second, barely noticeable beneath his hardened exterior, but it was there. E could feel the familiar tingle coming from him, that want simmering beneath his anger. His jaw tightened, fists clenching at his sides, and he shot them a glare, willing the heat away as if it’d been nothing. “I ain’t havin’ trouble with anything,” he growled, his voice low and rough. But E simply watched him with an amused, knowing glint in their eye, a faint laugh catching under their breath.

Charles, observing the exchange, raised an eyebrow, eyes twinkling with the slightest bit of humor. Clearing his throat gently, he spoke up in to ease the rising tension. “E, let’s not push too hard. Logan’s cautious, but we need to find a compromise. And Logan, I’m afraid that until we reach an agreement that satisfies both sides, I’ll have to ask you to step down from your teaching position. I can’t risk the school’s safety.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. Logan stiffened, his fists clenching harder, knuckles now white. Stepping down? It felt like an ultimatum, but Charles wasn’t wrong. The safety of the school had always come first. E’s gaze softened just slightly, though he could still see that flicker of amusement in their eyes. “You’re right, Professor. My apologies.” They turned to Logan, offering a nod. “I got carried away—it was unprofessional of me. I understand where you’re coming from, and I’m willing to collaborate with you so we may find a solution that works for both parties.”

As E pulled away into their composed demeanor, he felt the thread coiling in his gut relaxing, leaving him more room to breathe.

Logan wasn’t used to them backing down that easily, and it threw him for a second. He shifted, narrowing his eyes in suspicion, his faint scowl deepening as he muttered, “Huh?” It was as if a switch had flipped, and he couldn’t help but wonder what their angle was. “Okay?”

And E could have left it there, but something inside urged them to add, a spark of teasing in their gaze, “After all, you’re not one to play by anyone else’s rules. So why not help shape the ones that work for you?”

Logan shot them a sharp look, their words sinking in slowly. He hated how they got under his skin, how easily they seemed to read him. But they weren’t wrong, either.

He took a breath, unclenching his hands, though he still felt like a cornered animal. “Fine. We’ll work something out. But I’m not signing anything that tries to box me in, Charles. I need enough room to be me.”

Charles’s expression softened in relief, giving a small nod of approval. “Of course, my friend. Take your time—I want you to feel comfortable with this. We’ll reconvene when you’re both ready.” He paused, glancing at the papers, before adding, “In the meantime, I’ve got other work that requires my attention.”

Logan barely registered the Professor dismissing them, his mind still tangled in the strange feeling of the interaction. E pushed off the desk gracefully, straightening the black jacket of their suit before gathering their things with practiced ease. When they finally stepped out of Charles’ office, Logan followed them out into the hallway. They walked in silence for a beat, the air between them still buzzing, though less tense than before. Yet, their scent still lingered—smoky, with a hint of spice—reminding him of their presence. And E, in turn, felt the simmering conflict inside him—the push and pull of resistance and attraction. It wasn’t enough to satiate them, but it would have to do for now, even if it left them wanting more. They allowed a brief, satisfied smile to ghost across their lips before tucking it away, resuming a more reserved expression.

“When do you want to go over the documents?” E’s voice was professional once more, all traces of their earlier playfulness gone, though a flicker of something else remained behind their eyes, like they were holding back.

Logan glanced over at them, still surprised by how quickly they’d shifted gears. This side of them—focused, efficient—was easier to handle. He could deal with this.

“Tomorrow, maybe. Got some time around three.”

E nodded, a hint of consideration in their gaze despite the reluctance in his tone. “I could make that work. We’ll go over everything, step by step. No surprises.”

The calm confidence they exuded kept catching him off guard, and against his better judgment, he found himself watching them differently. Was there more beneath that troublemaker act they put on around him?

E must’ve felt his gaze because they turned slightly, offering a small, almost sincere smile. “I’ll see you then.” Their voice was all business, but a hint of warmth slipped through—without the usual edge of teasing.

Logan grunted in response, but as they walked away, something lingered at the edge of his mind. Yes, there might be more to them than the predatory front they’d shown since they met. And maybe, just maybe, they weren’t as much trouble as he thought.

Or perhaps it was a ploy to lure him in, to make him relax and step willingly into their web. In any case, he wasn’t about to let his guard down. Not yet.

The library was quiet in the mid-afternoon light when Logan arrived, the subtle scent of aged paper and polished wood mixing with the now too familiar blend of spice wrapped in smoke. He pushed the door open with a soft creak, eyes immediately scanning the room, and sure enough, there they were—already seated at one of the large tables, surrounded by hefty open books, scattered documents, and a legal pad filled with meticulous notes.

E barely glanced up as he approached, their focus sharp on the papers spread out before them. The soft scratching of their pen on the smooth surface filled the air, the fluidity of their movements mesmerizing, almost hypnotic. Every action was deliberate, from the graceful lines they traced to the calm demeanor they carried.

Logan stood there for a moment, taking it all in—the precision and quiet focus they exuded. He couldn’t help but notice the neatness of their work: each point laid out clearly, with little diagrams and annotations. It wasn’t just thorough; it was methodical yet beautiful, almost like an art form. Even their handwriting, flowing effortlessly across the page—a blend of sharp angles and elegant curves—was damn near perfect.

He cleared his throat, and E, still writing, held up a finger, brows furrowed in focus. The gentle chime of their bracelets—three in total, one gold and two red—sounded as they moved, the soft music an elegant counterpoint to the silence. They needed to finish that thought, not wanting to lose their concentration. Logan waited for a few heartbeats, struck by the command in their motion, a powerful yet silent order that stoked the embers they had nestled in his chest during the last couple of weeks. When E finally looked up, their gaze met his with calm professionalism, but there was a flash of something else—an interest that sharpened their eyes, just for a heartbeat, before it vanished.

"You're early," they noted, their voice soft but steady, carrying just enough weight to catch his attention. "I wasn’t expecting you for another…” They quickly glanced at the delicate golden watch on their wrist. “… half hour, at least." There was a pause, and E gestured toward the chair on the other side of the table. "Please, sit."

Logan obeyed reluctantly, still unsettled by the way they were behaving—cold, detached, like they were someone else entirely. The tension between them had loosened so much he could hardly feel it, as if it might vanish entirely if he tried to reach for it. “Figured I’d get this over with,” he mumbled, his eyes not leaving their face.

A small smile played at the corner of their lips, and they flipped one of the hefty books closed to make room between them, before pushing a section of the contract toward him. "Well, I’ve already gone through most of the legal terms and highlighted the parts you might find concerning. If something still doesn’t sit right with you, we can discuss… adjustments."

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been busy.”

“I don’t like wasting time on work.” Their eyes flicked to the stack of notes they had assembled, before neatly setting them aside. “Let’s just get through this.”

Logan picked up the contract, flipping through the pages slowly. The neat little annotations caught his eye—small, concise memorandums in that same precise handwriting on flashy sticky notes, guiding him through each clause. As much as he hated to admit it, the thoroughness was impressive. “You really did all this?”

E leaned back slightly in their chair, crossing their arms, a faint smile playing at the corners of their lips, like they were enjoying something only they understood, and he felt a subtle pull inside, a tension stirring. “I told you I’d help you with the legal stuff, didn’t I?”

Logan’s eyes drifted to the pages again, unable to ignore how… perfect their handwriting was. Every sentence was clear, fluid, each letter delicate, intentional. They hadn’t just scrawled down information in a rush—not only they’d taken the time to make it legible, but it also felt like they had crafted something meant to be appreciated, drawn with careful control, patience, like each and every stroke mattered.

“You write like a damn artist,” he muttered despite himself, half impressed, half irked by the precision of it all.

E’s soft chuckle was barely audible, but he caught the faintest hint of satisfaction in their expression as they watched him linger on the page. They were absorbing his reaction, almost savoring it, letting his admiration wash over them like a silent, steady current. “Years of practice,” they replied, eyes glinting with a subtle satisfaction. “Didn’t expect you to notice details like that.”

He grunted in response, still staring at the page before flipping to another section. “I don’t miss much.”

E leaned forward again, the light jingle of their bracelets accompanying the movement as they tapped a finger on one of the highlighted paragraphs. “This part, in particular, is important. It’s a non-disclosure clause. You might want to pay special attention to that.”

Logan followed the motion of their finger, noting the cleanly filed nail that glimmered faintly under the light—maybe some sort of transparent polish? Even that was meticulously done, and the thought made something simmer in him before he blinked it away, refocusing on the contract. “So I can’t say anything about… what, exactly?”

“About the students. The curriculum. The specific ways the school operates,” they clarified, their tone even and clear, leaving no room for confusion, even as a subtle ripple passed between them. “It’s a precaution to ensure no one leaks sensitive information.”

Logan scowled, the idea gnawing at him. “I get why, but it feels like a muzzle.”

E’s gaze softened slightly as they leaned back again, folding their hands neatly on the table in front of them. The metallic sound of their bracelets chimed softly, a delicate accent to the motion. “It can feel that way, yes, but it’s standard for any organization handling confidential matters, especially one like this school. It's about protecting everyone here—especially you and the kids. Though, we can amend the wording if that’ll make you more… comfortable.”

Logan studied their face, taking in the sincerity behind their words. For once, it didn’t feel like they were toying with him or trying to play some angle. They were just doing their job—and a damn good one at that.

He exhaled sharply, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t like bein’ locked into something I don’t trust.”

E’s eyes softened as they nodded slowly, their expression understanding. “That’s fair. We can tweak the language so it’s more gray, more aligned with what you’re comfortable with. To give you room to adjust? You don’t have to feel trapped, Logan.”

Logan’s hand rubbed the back of his neck as he sighed. “You’re makin’ it real hard for me to argue, you know that?”

Their smile was faint, their fingers gently drumming on the wooden desk between them. “I’m not trying to make it harder. Just easier for you to see that this isn’t about control. It’s about protecting what you’re building here.”

Logan dropped his eyes to the contract again, that tight, familiar knot in his chest loosening just a bit. He didn’t trust easy—but they were making a damn good case. He couldn’t deny that. He could see how carefully they’d worked through the details, the amount of care they’d put into making this whole thing understandable. It was… reassuring, in a way. As much as he hated to admit it, they had a point. It wasn’t about locking him into anything—it was about making sure everything stayed secure. The kids came first, always.

He met their gaze again, something shifting between them. He still wasn’t ready to trust completely, but at least they were giving him a reason to reconsider. “Alright,” he muttered, almost grudgingly. “Let’s go through it.”

E smiled—this time, it was genuine. Not playful, not teasing, just… genuine, content. They slid a few more papers toward him, their focus back on the work, but Logan couldn’t help but notice the shift in their energy. As they started explaining the finer points, guiding him through each legal term with that same sharp professionalism, he couldn’t help but admire the way they handled things. They were focused, sharp, and professional.

Maybe this was the side of them he could start to respect.

For now.

They’d been at it for hours, bending and reshaping the terms until each clause balanced protection with freedom. E kept their demeanor professional, drawing on every ounce of restraint to keep their voice even and their gaze measured, ignoring the familiar hunger snapping at their focus now and then. And the more they worked, the more they could sense Logan beginning to relax, perhaps appreciating this side of them—this businesslike efficiency that gave him room to breathe, rather than the tension they used to stir in him. He was still sharp and guarded around them, but in the subtle shifts of his body language, they sensed they were both easing into a more comfortable exchange, his trust inching closer as they tweaked the terms to help him maintain his independence.

In his careful consideration of each clause, they saw how deeply he valued his autonomy. His desire to protect the kids and guide them through a brutal world was unmistakable, yet he seemed determined to do it on his own terms. Watching him was like seeing a reflection of their own drive: the same visceral need to resist being anyone’s pawn, to forge a path where people like them weren’t turned into weapons or tools for the powerful. E knew what it was to navigate that treacherous line, to have allies rather than be a pawn, to be indispensable but never owned. Becoming a lawyer had finally allowed them to create partnerships, to protect their independence in a way they hadn’t had in the past.

They looked at Logan now, the way he was part of something great without letting it absorb him, and felt a twinge of resonance. It was like looking into a rippling, distorted mirror: his methods protective where theirs were persuasive, his presence blunt where theirs was all charm and deliberate control. But that difference made sense, considering their mutations. He had claws; they had…this. This carefully wielded hold over emotions. Had they been born with claws, would they have protected instead of manipulated? They weren’t sure.

Their gaze drifted from the paper to his handsome face as they sank into those thoughts, the realization dawning—slow and unexpected—that he wasn’t simply a source of energy, or the toy they’d wanted him to be at first. He was a potential ally in a way few others could be. Someone who might amplify their strength instead of being drained. Not just a meal to be consumed but something rarer—a piece that, in its own strange way, completed the picture of who they could be. As if they were two sides of the same coin.

Lost in thought, they almost missed the slight cough as Logan cleared his throat, his voice breaking through their haze.

“Need a break?” he asked, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, catching them just off guard enough that they had to recompose themselves, reassemble that mask over their features before their thoughts slipped any further into the open.

“No, I’m good,” they replied, eyes turning back to the papers in front of them. “We’re almost done, anyway.” But as they looked away, a thought slipped in—a terrifying, persistent thought.

What if, just for a few moments, they let him see behind the surface?

The more they considered it, the more it tugged at them. Curiosity twisted into need—a need to be seen fully, not just for what they could do or the games they played, but for every scarred, layered piece that made them who they were. Logan was unique, after all. He understood the weight of living too many lifetimes, of carrying too many pasts. Maybe he, of all people, could handle the person they kept buried underneath.

They wrestled with the urge, every instinct resisting, their armor honed by years of experience and necessity. Something deep inside warned it was dangerous—unnecessary. But then again… maybe not. Because the thought kept tugging, whispering that maybe, just maybe, it could be something greater. A partnership that didn’t hinge on pretense or servitude but on something raw and real, something powerful.

Their gaze returned to him, lingering. He was relaxed now, waiting, not pushing. And maybe that’s what finally broke their resolve.

“You know, Logan,” they began, the words slipping out, edged with a subtle amusement that curled at the corners of their mouth. “You’re… an interesting case.” Their tone was light, but Logan could feel the weight behind it, something sharper. “In a world full of people pursuing causes, you stand apart. You’re here, fighting for something, part of a team, a mentor—yet you keep a step back, like you’re in it but always on the edge.”

They took their time, choosing their words carefully. “Not interested in becoming anyone’s weapon. Not about to let anyone make a puppet out of you.” They paused, their smile fading as their peculiar eyes locked with his, earnest, with a hint of challenge. “I respect that about you.”

Logan’s expression shifted, his relaxed posture tensing as he regarded them with a sharp glance. Crossing his arms, he studied their face, searching for their angle. There was no mistaking the twinkle in their gaze, a glint that almost dared him to see through it. He furrowed his brows, but his voice was steady. “Yeah? Well, I don’t dance on anybody’s strings. If I’m fighting for something, it’s because it matters to me. And I do it my way.”

He watched as something flickered in their eyes—a veil lingering for a few heartbeats, like his words had pulled something deep from the shadows of their mind. When their gaze met his again, it was steadier, as if a quiet understanding had slipped between them. “I get that,” they replied, voice low, the words hanging in the air with a quiet finality.

Logan studied them, suspicious of this sudden transparency. “So what? You’re saying you’re the same?” he asked, his tone guarded, almost testing.

“Maybe.” Their mouth curved in a smirk, one that seemed to bare their teeth as much as it smiled. “Let’s say I’ve had experience balancing independence with… affiliations.” They leaned forward slightly, the light metallic sound of their bracelets chiming with the motion, drawing his attention and making his senses sharpen. Their gaze glinted with something that hinted at danger, at control. “When people see power, they get ideas. They get greedy. Sometimes, we have to show them who’s in charge—decide where the lines are, or blur them if it suits us.”

Logan’s brows knit, eyes narrowing. “So, you’re tellin’ me you dance along the line but won’t let anyone hold your strings.” He leaned back, gaze sharp. “How’s that working out for you?”

They gave a light shrug, a glimmer of amusement in their eyes. “You’d be surprised. Charles, for one, respects it—but you already know that.” They smirked, as if holding back a bigger truth. “There are others, too. Equally powerful… Stark, for instance.”

Logan’s eyebrows shot up at the name, genuine interest breaking through his cautious demeanor, crumbs of energy swallowed by E’s greedy hunger. “Stark? As in the Tony Stark?” He couldn’t hide the hint of curiosity in his tone and leaned in, almost imperceptibly. “You actually know the guy?”

They lifted their brows, a small pout on their lips, playing down the significance of it with an offhand shrug, though Logan noticed a spark of pride in their eyes. “Worked with him, actually. Fresh out of law school. I had a friend—blind attorney, good guy—who mentioned Stark needed someone sharp to help… clean up a few things. Secure patents, keep his tech out of the wrong hands.” They kept it vague, partly out of client confidentiality and partly knowing that Logan wasn’t likely interested in legal specifics.

“Not exactly glamorous, but it was an exhilarating start,” they added, the flicker of pride now shining in their voice. “Let’s just say that navigating the minefield of a billionaire’s reputation certainly kept things interesting. And it was good for the notoriety.”

Flecks of emotion brushed against something deep within E—a faint thrill they quickly stifled but couldn’t entirely ignore—as Logan muttered something under his breath, a note of respect edging his tone. He’d always seen Stark as the kind of guy who didn’t trust anyone but himself—and maybe his assistant, or whatever she was now. “Bet that kept you busy.”

A chuckle escaped them, eyes glinting as the soft chime of their bracelets accompanied the sound. “Busy? He kept me on my toes. The man’s got a mind like wildfire; it was a challenge keeping up. But it was… refreshing.” They leaned back, an almost nostalgic look slipping over their face. “I guess it taught me to walk the line, to make a difference without being tied down.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully, intrigued despite himself. The story felt like a glimpse into the puzzle of their past. “So how’d you end up here?” he asked, his curiosity piqued. “Not that I’m sayin’ this place is a downgrade or anything,” he added with a smirk, resting his arms on the table.

They sensed his interest like a pulse, faint but unmistakable. It seeped into them, stirring that familiar, alluring rush, and they let out a soft laugh, an edge of amusement in their eyes. “Did you know Charles and Stark held a gala a few months back to fund the school’s new equipment?”

Logan nodded, some recognition flitting across his face. “I remember hearing about it. Charity thing, wasn’t it?”

“Exactly.” Their voice stayed casual, but their eyes sparkled with the thrill of memory. “That’s where I met Charles.” Their gaze flicked back to him, pausing just long enough to let the moment breathe. “We got along right away. He needed someone to navigate the legalities and ensure the school’s mission stayed protected. A few conversations later, and here I am.” Their eyes held his, a glimmer of interest that wasn’t easily brushed aside, as his curiosity continued to fuel something deep within them.

Logan could feel it too—a pull he couldn’t resist, a delicate pressure building inside him, different from the sharp pull of their first exchanges. This was smoother, quieter, sinking in with each new glimpse he got of E’s story, drawing him in until pulling back wasn’t an option. He sensed the quiet power behind everything they revealed, and it stirred something deeper in him—a mix of respect, intrigue, and the surprising comfort of recognition, that kept the tension going.

He leaned back, crossing his arms again, a smirk tugging at his lips. “So, you just go wherever the cause suits you, huh?” His voice held a challenge underlined by curiosity. “If Stark showed up again tomorrow, you’d be right back in his corner?”

E nodded, unfazed by the edge in his tone. “If his goals align with mine? Yes. Of course I’d work with him again! Without a second thought! Same goes for Charles.” Their gaze softened, a glimmer of conviction breaking through their usually controlled demeanor. “I want to be part of something that matters, Logan.”

Logan studied them, catching just how much they meant it. He’d known E wasn’t anyone’s puppet, but now he could see they weren’t waiting around for someone to hand them a cause, either. They were carving out their own path—fluid, adaptable, going wherever their instincts took them. And he found himself respecting that: their drive, mixed with that fierce independence. Hell, he could relate to it—maybe even admire it a little.

E felt it, the ripple of his respect, like a quiet current feeding into them. For all their control, a spark of satisfaction slipped through their gaze, their mask almost slipping as they met his eyes. His admiration, rare and guarded, felt potent—dangerously so. The energy coursed through them, lingering like a hidden pulse beneath their skin. They shifted slightly, regaining composure before his steady gaze could pierce too deeply.

They looked calm, in control, continuing their previous thought. “I’m loyal to a cause.” Then, their eyes took on a sharper edge, something deeper flickering beneath the surface. “But I’ll never let myself be chained to anyone ever again.”

There was a flash of anger, fierce and unyielding, sparking in their gaze. The quiet chime of their bracelets sounded as they leaned forward, their voice steady but intense. “There’s too much to do, too many ways to make a difference—like what you do here with these kids.”

Logan didn’t miss the brief fire of fury that had slipped through the cracks in their cool confidence, just enough to reveal a scar, raw and unhealed. They didn’t merely have a preference for freedom; it was a need, born from something that had burned them hard and left its mark. That kind of wound didn’t heal easy—he’d know.

He held their gaze, his expression softening with a rare flicker of understanding. E might play at being dangerous and unpredictable, but he was beginning to see past the games, past the mischief. Beneath it all, they weren’t half as threatening as they liked to seem—not to him, anyway. And now he wondered if their determination to make a difference came from more than just ambition. Maybe they were out here carving paths so no one else would have to walk through the fire alone.

Just as quickly, E’s eyes narrowed, the hint of vulnerability vanishing as they pulled themselves back. Their lips curved into a knowing smirk, that easy, predatory edge sliding into place. “What’s with the look, Logan?” they purred, voice rich with playful menace. “Didn’t think I’d have you figured out that quickly?”

He tilted his head, a low chuckle rolling out as his eyes held steady, watching them with newfound clarity. “Long way from that, sweetheart,” he replied, his voice as rough as the smile he wore. His stare cut through their guarded expression, tracing that hidden spark they were still trying to shield. “But I’ve seen enough to figure out there’s a hell of a lot more goin’ on with you that what you let on.”

They scoffed, dismissive as ever, though Logan’s steady gaze didn’t miss the faint, almost imperceptible shift in their eyes, the way they lingered on him just a second too long. They were good at playing the part; he could give them that. And hell, he had to respect it—the way they held their ground, defiant but calm, ready to take on whatever came next. But he’d caught a glimpse behind their guard now—just enough to give him a way in, a thread he could pull if he wanted, evening the power balance between them. A hint of a smirk tugged at his lips; they’d shown him more than they intended, and he planned on playing that to his advantage.

E met his stare, the faintest crease of tension at the edge of their mouth as they spoke. “There’s not much going on with me,” they said smoothly, though their tone carried an edge, a warning, like a line drawn firmly in the sand. “At best, you’ll see someone who’s lived long enough to know that, at some point, we’re just the sum of our own burdens—regrets, pain, and the constant battle to find a place in a world that sees us as either weapon or threat.” They shrugged, gaze cooling as if daring him to contradict them. “I know you know what I mean.”

Logan’s mouth quirked, and he offered a subtle nod. Oh, he knew. He knew that weight, the feeling of being something both feared and useful, but he also saw how tightly they held onto that defensive edge, like armor too important to set aside. And it made sense. If they’d been through even half of what he had, especially as a woman with power, that sharpness was more than just for show—it was a primal instinct born from necessity.

“So, you play the part of the predator, huh?” he asked, his voice casual, almost challenging. “Gotta keep everyone on their toes, or they might see more than you want ‘em to?”

Their gaze hardened slightly, something flickering before they smoothed it over. “It’s survival, hun,” they replied, tone measured with a hint of sarcasm, the nickname sharp on their lips. Their fingers moved up to toy with the delicate golden chain around their neck, the single white pearl shifting gently between their fingertips. “I wasn’t raised to be anyone’s prey. I’ve always been powerful in a way, even before my true nature revealed itself. Living as a mutant in this world means learning to navigate perceptions—people don’t always take well to what they don’t understand. You know that too. So, yes, most of the time, I have to play the predator. It’s how I keep my place in this society.”

Their eyes gleamed, that familiar guarded edge slipping back into place, like steel settling into a sheath. “And maybe it’s the only way I know how.”

The words settled between them, carrying an honesty that almost surprised him. Beneath the mischief and sharpness, he could see the echoes of past battles that had molded them into someone who walked the line between danger and glamor, between freedom and guarded solitude.

“Doesn’t it get exhausting?” he asked, tone light but edged enough to make it clear he wasn’t just making conversation. “Playin’ that part all the time, keepin’ everyone at arm’s length?”

For a split second, something flickered across their face—an almost imperceptible crack—but they smoothed it over with a cool smile. “It’s only exhausting if you don’t know how to handle it,” they replied, looking down at him with a hint of mockery, as if to suggest he wouldn’t know. Leaning back, they reclaimed control of the moment. “Besides, I didn’t walk this path to blend in with the crowd. The world makes demands. I learned early that if I wanted a future worth having, I’d have to shape it myself—alone.”

They straightened with a subtle chime of their bracelets, a glint of pride in their stance, fierce and unyielding, making Logan’s respect tick up a notch, teasing E’s hunger with a rich, electric thrill. They felt it brush against their senses, fueling the simmer beneath their calm. For a fleeting moment, their expression softened, indulging in the warmth of his regard. But it didn’t escape him that beneath their carefully crafted façade lay a quiet kind of fatigue, a weariness he knew too well. They might be used to the role, but that didn’t mean it didn’t take a toll. With a practiced flick of their eyes, they returned to their cool detachment, meeting his gaze with that same untouchable allure, even as their hunger urged them closer.

Logan shifted, crossing his arms loosely, gaze steady as a teasing smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, his eyes glowing with playful challenge. “Sounds to me like someone’s after more than just puttin’ on a show.”

Their smile froze for the briefest moment, a flicker of tension before they rolled their eyes, snapping the mask back into place. “And you think you know what I’m after?” They raised an eyebrow, voice slipping into that smooth, predatory edge that reminded him just how much they hated being read—just like he did.

“Maybe,” he replied, holding their gaze with that same easy smirk. “Seems like a part of you might want somethin’ more. Connections. Someone to reach out to, now and then. Make it feel less… empty.”

They scoffed, laughter low and guarded as they leaned in, the slight sound of their bracelets punctuating the motion once more. Their voice dropped to a whisper. “Don’t flatter yourself, Logan,” they said, eyes glinting with challenge as they inched closer, the whisper turning almost venomous. “I don’t need anybody, pretty boy. Especially not you.” Both their words and gaze sharpened, a teasing yet defensive spark behind it, though something unspoken lingered there. The faint chime followed their movements, an echo of tension and warning. “You might think you’ve seen through me, but trust me, there’s a lot more here than you’re ready to understand. So, stop digging. You might not like what you find.”

Logan’s smile barely shifted, but he didn’t push further, didn’t try to peel back any more layers. He didn’t need to. He’d seen enough to know that behind the sharp edges and fierce guard, E wasn’t so different from him. And the thing they made him crave these last few weeks might just be the thing they’d craved themselves for a long time.

Silence stretched between them, charged and unbroken, as they sized each other up—E, guarded and fierce behind their confident exterior; Logan, settled and a little more at ease than he’d been since they first met.

He chuckled, a low, quiet rumble that broke the silence and hung in the space between them. A confident smile played on his lips, almost as if he were savoring his small victory. “So,” he murmured, leaning in. “We done here, or… you need me for somethin’ else?” His tone carried a hint of something deeper, something suggestive.

They bristled, the calm mask slipping momentarily as irritation flashed in their eyes, but they regained composure, sliding smoothly into a clipped, professional tone. “If you don’t see any more changes to make, I can take care of the rest. I’ll give you the documents once they’re finalized.”

Logan nodded, his gaze steady as he rose from his chair, towering over them for a brief moment. “Alright,” he said, his voice warm but resolute, like he was sealing an unspoken agreement. “See you around then.”

With that, he turned, heading toward the door. And as he left, he took with him the solid rythm of his presence, that subtle weight of connection they’d woven into him over the past couple of weeks. The room felt colder, emptier without it. The quiet settled in, hollow and gnawing, the sharp hunger suddenly surging in as the connection broke, slipping from their grasp like sand between their fingers.

Alone once again, they could almost feel it—an ache beneath the calm exterior, an unsettling reminder of what he’d managed to stir to life, only to take it away.

To be continued…

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

✨ Masterlist ✨

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

🔖 @quillycrow

[angelofthepage]

38?

38. What is something about your writing process YOU think is Really Weird? If you are comfortable, please share. If you’re not comfortable, what do you think cats say about us?

Hmm, that's a tough one! I don't necessarily think anything about my process is weird, but I get the sense other people might be confused by some of my methods. Like, writing out of order isn't weird, it's a great strategy if you want to get to the part you're really passionate about while it's fresh and then work backwards. Sure it involves a lot of editing, but it's worth it to capture the passion. But I've met a lot of people who don't approach stories that way and find it odd.

One thing I'm in the habit of doing is writing dialogue as pure dialogue first and then going back and adding in body language where it's needed. I'm someone who talks to myself a great deal, the mirror knows me rather intimately in the way of monologues. And as a voice actor, I've found it useful to say your dialogue out loud to see how natural it sounds. If you've ever heard me speak out loud, you'll know I type rather similarly to how I talk, but I also like imagining many different ways of speaking. Sometimes I worry it all sounds too much like me, but then again, there's always a part of you in your art, so I suppose that's not a bad thing. I remember some of my language choices threw people off in college, people were confused by why some of my merfolk characters constantly called each other 'cousin', and I'm just like, that's part of the world building, it's the culture!" In eighth grade I had to write a children's book, and everyone told me to remove the word "trekked" from my draft, said kids wouldn't know what that meant. And I'm still salty about it, I'm convinced most of them didn't know what it meant even though there were context clues. My use of language is very specific to set the vibe and I will not apologize for it!

And to illustrate it, I'm gonna give a little sneak peak of something I'm working on that's BATDR related (no idea when I'll be ready to share it). I'm playing with the concept of a Keeper doing a series of side experiments on my OC, Bella, and oh boy their dynamic is great. I love writing his dialogue, it's a great challenge. Thank you for the ask! I'm still accepting submissions for the writer's ask game over on @inkabelledesigns.

“It is standard procedure. You must remain in the testing facilities.” He stated simply.

She sighed and turned away. “I’m not gonna run away from you, that wouldn’t do either of us any good.” 

The keeper quirked his head a little, looking her over curiously. “A rather logical conclusion you’ve come to.”

“Humans can be rational, you know.” She smirked, the glint of her teeth was somewhat fierce as his light shined over them.

“You are not human.” He replied as he got to work, organizing the tools that sat on his tray. 

“I suppose not, not anymore at least.” She sighed. “The outside is ink, but that doesn’t change my soul.”

“I fail to see how such a thing matters.” 

“Of course you would.” She huffed. “You’ve never dabbled with souls, have you?” 

“I can’t say I have.” The keeper replied curtly.

[ipsen]

1, 4, 5, 7, 8, 12 and 13 for Holometabolism

Hoho, boy, here we go. After a read more!!

1 - What inspired you to write/update this work?

I once put in the tags of a post I can no longer remember that there are only two things that fuel the creative process: love and spite, which are ultimately the same thing-- a desire for something better than what came before.

I am not upset that Eto was scrubbed out of her role in TG:re. I am upset because she was ultimately treated as an afterthought by the story, and that most of her efforts are just attributed to Arima. It's one of Tokyo Ghoul's worst habits: giving men more pity and attention than women. And this is a story with really good women characters that fall flat simply because the story refuses to utilize them.

That is ultimately why I made Holometabolism.

4 - What’s the most challenging part about posting new/updated work? Do you find posting stressful or invigorating?

Posting as I go is probably the only way I can motivate myself to continue a multichapter work. I need some extra validation from sources besides myself, because personal passion can only get you so far in life. You must be uplifted by others in some capacity to, ultimately, make it anywhere.

The hardest part about posting is, to me, clicking the post button. Because I just know there's gonna be some formatting error or whatever that I missed and now I have to go back and FIX IT.

Oh well.

5 - How do you decide how long your fics/chapters will be? Do you have a word count goal?

For Holometabolism specifically, I liked to shoot for at least 4k words because that's a nice healthy number for me. It just seems like the longfics I myself enjoy have a similar word count per chapters, and I've just kinda grown accustomed to it.

But usually my process involves a vision, and then writing to get to said vision. I visualized an EtoKen ending for this fic and then went from there (I actually fleshed out Chapter 4 the most before any of the others, and it's the chapter that's retained the most of its original draft form). Word count isn't a generally a factor, but it does help keep me within a certain limit.

I'm all for a word vomit, but constraints are an integral part of quality. Also makes editing much easier when there's less to actually edit. I like editing the least.

7 - What part of this fic/chapter was the most fun to write?

Now here's a tricky question, because I have a lot of parts that I had so much fun, to the point where ranking them is honestly impossible.

I liked Eto and Touka's first conversation in Ch2. They are foils to one another, with similar backstories and personalities, but they approach things differently. Establishing that was important groundwork for their friendship later on in the fic.

Every time Hinami interacted with Eto was a joy. Hinami is this weird cross between Kaneki and Eto, like a strange brain child of theirs since she was influenced by both of them at key stages in her life.

Ch4's climax (haha) is near and dear to my heart. Not my best work by a longshot, but a very important piece that I'll cherish for a long time. Reconciling your ugliness and bearing it in the hopes for something better is something I want to believe I can do too. So I wrote two people doing it (haha).

Ch5's ending!! I loved taking "I am a ghoul" and making it a positive, awesome slogan! I felt bad having to follow it up with Ch6, honestly. SPEAKING OF--

Eto and Furuta's conversation and "rematch"! So much fun. What better to demonstrate her character development than by having her confront someone she definitely hates? Gotta pat myself on the back for that one.

8 - Which line/paragraph are you most proud of? Why are you proud of this?

Tricky question #2, I see. Well, if I have to pick one, then:

“Please don’t die, Eto,” [Hinami] choked out.

Eto pursed her lips. “Why?”

A few tears dropped onto their hands, coalescing into a small puddle on Eto’s knuckles. “Because… Because I’m not ready to say goodbye.” Hinami pressed their hands against her forehead. “Please… Even if you can’t smile, or laugh, or cry… Live.”

I intended this to be the turning point for Eto's character in this EtoKen fanfiction. A sin, to some, to not have the love interest be the one to start the redemption journey.

Hinami is another one of Eto's foils who is also in the unique position of being capable of holding real and sustainable affection for her. It was important to me to showcase that that was what it was: real, genuine love. Because Hinami, besides Kaneki, is the only person Eto would actually believe in 99% of circumstances, since the girl is both similar to Eto and honest with herself.

12 - What do you hope readers will take away from this work?

"You are worth it, even if you don't think you are." "There's always a little bit of hope for everyone." "Even if you can't smile, laugh, or cry... Live."

Life is mostly good, I like to think, and I wanted to underscore that belief with this fic. I want people to know that hope is stronger than despair, and that it is hope for the future and yourself that drives positive change. Something like that.

13 - Are there any cut lines/scenes from this work? Why did you cut them?

I have an entire document dedicated to "scenes that were Good to me, but either didn't flow properly with the story or just contributed very little to the progression of those involved." There's at least one scene per chapter, too.

I might actually post some of them here on tumblr someday, when I'm feeling enough energy to format each LOL

--

That's everything! Thanks for the ask!

[mapsofnonexistentplaces]

some brief explanations off the top of my head below the cut! take some fine details with a grain of salt because my memory's not pristine. some very obvious stuff i am also not explaining

1st tier is self explanatory its all the stuff rtvs is known for

1.5 having "wayne is not his real name" is kind of a joke because that fact repeatedly surprises people in chat every once in a while. addendum for the "lore" of that being that wayne just used a picture of wayne brady as a profile pic on steam when he was a teen and it led to people calling him wayne as a nickname, thus leading to his current username

tier 2:

where do we begin: THE rtvs podcast. i feel like everyone knows about it but also i see people being surprised that they have a podcast so it wasnt quite fit for tier 1

pol martin: and his microwave cooking, born of various vhs viewingz

balls cam: the reoccurring joke of "when will wayneradiotv do a balls cam?"

jazz is a misogynist: refers to the fact that wayne's pet bird jazz hates it when women are in wayne's house and is violent towards them, leading to wayne deciding that jazz is either a misogynist or simply a gay bird

summoning demons: the channel point reaction available on wayne's channel. it has not been noticed much as of late but isn't really a deep cut so it goes here

is baaulp even gay? is he?

fester's quest: stream that wayne did right before covid hit worldwide where he dressed up as uncle fester, raced an uncle fester game against trog, and promoted head and shoulders in an actual sponsorship

butler sir obsession: reoccurring jokes courtesy of moupi

cyberkidz: a potentially european "lost media" show that rtvs did a full viewing of in the series not for broadcast. here is part 1

slog: fucked up ai copy of trog's voice introduced in the behind the scenes for the gnome streams. example of him.

pjackk cooking rtvs dogs: he used to do this a lot

BBVRAI: refers to the breaking bad but the ai is self aware stream, which was intentionally vague to serve as a hlvrai 2 tease. once the stream actually started people got very mad especially redditors and it was funny. and then they announced hlvrai 2 anyway

tier 3:

a.i.ron chef: classic wayne stream. heres a lovely edit by user lokos

scorpy face reveal gaslighting incident: oh boy. basically during the first cyberkidz stream, there was an extra account that popped up in the call midway through, which started playing a low quality video of a mysterious man eating soup or cereal or something. this ended up being scorpy, who did a face reveal like a few days later to confirm it was him, but during the cyberkidz stream specifically nobody acknowledged him. people in chat started to freak out thinking there was a hacker in the call or some shit, and once it was revealed it was scorpy, people got mad at rtvs for doing a bit where they simply pretended to be oblivious about something. i remember some people saying it was traumatising and that rtvs was gaslighting them. this was during the back end of 2020, which is why this was discourse at all

wayne nudist run: the end of the wayneremembrance stream. the actual deep lore here is the fact that for months wayne had talked about getting ready to move out, and throughout the remembrance stream, acted as though he hadnt yet. this was setup for the end of the stream which features him running in a fake naked suit outside his new house in the empty streets of texas in the middle of the night. i actually regret not titling this one "#whitemanlostintexas", a tag that briefly trended on twitter after this happened. people also got mad about this trending if i remember correctly.

markiplier is a leech: references the fact that markiplier once used wayne's fallout 4 video in a try not to laugh challenge without crediting wayne. and he didnt even laugh at the video. thus, there is a blood feud between the two.

when will wayne finish LISA?: was a joke for a while after wayne never finished streaming the famed rpgmaker title, after he had promised to finish it. people sometimes bring it up in chat like years after as a joke.

rtvs lives: the series trog hosts sometimes

bardin: refers to this song which would get mediashared on some of the later ai dungeon streams quite frequently

chocolate isn't candy: a debate between mira and wayne that originated long before the chuck e cheese debate. put a pin in this one.

tv head scorpy: referring to the typical depiction of scorpy before his face reveal

caine dansand: one of wayne's alerts, a video of a dogy. fun fact: the title is romanian and translates to "dog dancing to manele LOL" manele being a romanian music genre

mariobluegloves.info: i was about to link it until i realised that the site is now dead! it WAS a site of various images of mario with blue gloves featuring very vibrant css

sout park theme song: wayne is the noah in this screenshot

oh its nemo: refers to a story wayne has told on stream at least 4 times where as a child he was at a friend's house and was at the computer, where said friend's mom was checking emails. she clicked on a slideshow of baby pictures with random red dots on the images and the final image was one of nemo from finding nemo with a dot in his eye, which when clicked, led to a screamer of the girl from the exorcist. wayne cites this as his reason for despising screamers as a very scared child

erarg is ryu from streets: referencing this video

waynerpiss saga: referring to twitch banning his piss emote. i am pretty sure it still exists on his channel, simply reversed to read "ssip" nowadays, which was perfectly acceptable to the same twitch moderation that banned the piss sign

tier 3.5:

ytp forums backstory + baaulp keysmash: covered in wdwb episode 5 questions segment — basically just how most people in rtvs met. baaulp keysmashed all his usernames as a teen and "baaulp" happened to be the one he used on said forums

tier 4:

awooga: refers to an alert either gir or scorpy (both i think, actually) had for a period of time that was a recording of lauren going "awooga" on loop that increasingly got louder

donkey factory: video that cannot be referenced on twitch.

human dog keychain: status symbols of the radio and tv

bound to mine: wayne's musical masterpiece which is unlisted on his channel, for some reason. here's the link.

moupi is an english major: explained in the behind the scenes gnome vids stream

the gorilla seems a little stressed out: wayne accidentally triggers his kingdom hearts soundboard while he is acting as a monkey, and it makes him cry. its good

pepper steak: the song from off, a frequent mediashare in the summer of 2020

do you like games?: dead rtvs podcast that got 2 episodes. i think you can listen to it on any place that has the normal wdwb podcast listing. logmore makes a great joke about the band DEVO being buried at E3

woods stream: term used to refer to a hypothetical livestream of hiking in the woods

moupi streams: old streams moupi did that were very compressed and slow on account of his terrible computer. here i will also shout out the ouyster stream he did after hacking scorpy's channel for real

joffrey: wayne's lost son, part of many old streams

headhunter's iliad: comic logmore made as an entry for a contest, which you can read in full here

hatsune mira: before mimi mira was often represented as hatsune miku in fanart, upon her own request

amazon dark stream: please watch this edit of it. its one of my favorite rtvs videos in the world and nobody knows about it. the artistic process behind it is covered in wayneremembrance i think

gordon ramsay audio sting

baaulp's meat room: the guest bedroom in baaulp's house that is apparently very cold with a very tough bed. it has earned the nickname "the meat room" on account of. seeming more befitting for meat than a human being. i forget if there's also a story about his family actually keeping meat in there or if that was just a joke someone made about it. i think it's explained during one of the chulip streams

tier 5:

the pope: figure from rtvs past. old man with a job who hung out with rtvs as teens and bought them steam games. there was apparently an incident involving this guy's credit card. i think this is the most anyone knows about 'the pope'

wayne anti-italian sentiments: saying an uncouth word

pig fetish asks: this explains itself. theres other posts around featuring other responses.

gnome series title change: pretty sure it went through at least two changes? it was initially titled "half life alyx but the gnome is self aware" and wayne changed it to better hit the youtube algo

i am a poop streamer: german man who was streaming from his xbox had tts on and rtvs found his stream and started spamming things in his chat. this man had the option to turn this setting off at any time. he did not. view the experience here

gamesir: this being so low is a recency bias thing actually pardon me. anyway i think wayne explained he bought one of these gamesir things to play splatoon better because he could not beat children at it normally

trog clone hero streams + log art streams: genre of streams done back around 2020, which i put mostly as nostalgiabait for myself

xbox/playstation scorpy: before tv head scorpy we had console themed scorpy and i think one person drew nsfw art of him within this context. yet again 2020 was a strange time

tom and jerry hottest sex scene gaslighting: similar to the scorpy face reveal one, wayne played this video over an ad which "spontaneously" played over one of his ai dungeon streams and he played it off obliviously. people in chat got mad at him and called it gaslighting

rtvs hall of fame document vandlism: see for yourself

mira's podcast: another dark horse favorite of mine. remember the chocolate is candy thing? this is that discussion.

tier 6:

for the first one copying my tags from eaerlier

benrey makeship controversy: very briefly. during the benrey plushie campaign a bunch of people got mad at wayne for partnering with makeship which at the time i think had weird alternate history plushies from another creator on its site and people got very mad about that with some people calling wayne fash for it. yet again 2020 times

you're making sony vegas lag: this is explained in an rtvs lives and the original sekiro chuck e cheese stream. cant be assed to find a timestamp ill do it later but this involves ytp steam chat spam and a "notable pooper" getting mad at rtvs for said spam

caveman arg: this is covered in wayneremembrance, basically there was a little arg wayne did to set up gub gar

homestuck adult fanfiction: video frequently referenced by rtvs, which gets stuck in my head regularly

can baaulp say gringo?: baaulp once said the word gringo to refer to white people and this started up discourse about a) whether baaulp was white b) whether he was allowed to say gringo c) if it was offensive that he said gringo and i think there was like a callout post against him made for this

wayneradiotv is too woke: yet again explained in wayneremembrance, basically a bunch of people made fun of wayne and were like praying for his twitch downfall because he wasnt bigoted enough. very early on in his twitch career

honorary mention of things i wanted to add but forgot:

wayne utauloid that used custom voice samples

wayne's polish ancestry

log is his real name

who woulge being a holly post

scorpy's rocco botte obsession

the microsoft zune

among other things.

attempt at an rtvs iceberg. some tiers can be swapped but influx of new fans + compilation vid trend has made it a bit more difficult to generalize this lol