#proximity movie

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Nobody Important

Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> When you first meet Logan you tell him you’re nobody important. But it soon becomes clear you are a lot more important than you say. 

Disclaimer: Contains descriptions of nightmares, couple of swear words, being drugged (nothing bad, just some chamomile tea). Mostly fluff moments with a hint of angst. I watched X-Men and wanted to write something for him. Reader has powers though they're not specified fully. Not Proof Read.

When Charles told Logan someone was going to pick him up from the airport, the last person he expected was, well, you. 

Compared to the pristine and fancy cars that were held at the school garage, you pulled up in a beat up old station wagon that looked like it had seen more than a couple of scratches in its time. And you weren’t dressed…like the rest of them. 

Rather than in some kind of pant-suit combo, you were wearing a long sleeve t-shirt, jeans, boots and a heavy brown leather overcoat. 

“Hey, sorry I’m late. Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.” You began immediately as you stepped out onto the curb and rushed towards him. “I was at the back of the forest collecting some berries and lost track of time. Shall we get going?”

Logan looked you over. You seemed a lot more…energetic than he was. 

“Who are you?”

“Professor X sent me. To collect you. You are Logan, aren’t you?”

“That depends. Who are you?”

“Your ride to the school, unless you plan on walking for two hours in the freezing cold.”

Logan grunted and threw his bag into the backseat. You still hadn’t answered his question but the licence plate of your car matched that of the one Charles had told him to look out for. 

However, fifteen minutes into the drive, Logan asked once more. “Who are you?”

You smiled and looked at him for a moment before moving your gaze back to the road ahead. “Nobody important.”

“Okay, fine. What are you?”

You smiled again. “Nothing you need to be concerned about.”

“Alright, listen bub-”

“Logan, whatever information about me you think you’re gonna have me tell you; it’s not gonna happen. I work with Charles and that’s all you need to know.”

Logan furrowed his brows. “So you’re a telepath? Like him?”

“You don’t need to concern yourself with what or even who I am. But,” you reached down and pulled a file from the driver's side door before turning it over on the steering wheel and handed it over to him. “You should concern yourself about this.”

Logan took it, a little confused, and opened it up. 

“He wants you to know what you’re walking into when we get back.”

After that, the rest of the drive was silent save for one question from Logan, only to have you reply with; 

“All the answers you’re looking for are either in there or are with the Professor.”

He didn’t bother asking you another question after that. Not that you would have answered it anyway. 

Once you finally did pull up to the school, it seemed you were beside him one minute and went the next into some unknown corner of the school because he didn’t see you after that. 

But he still had questions. 

Unanswered questions. 

Like who the hell were you? 

A week later, he still didn’t have his answers. But he did run into you again. 

In the kitchens. 

The entire place was a lot messier than the communal kitchen. It looked like some mix between a witches cottage and a mess hall in a school cafeteria. But it didn't smell as bad. 

Instead it smelt of cinnamon, oranges, rosemary and cookies. 

And somehow

It was relaxing to him. 

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Logan looked up to find you standing at the other end of the kitchen, a bowl under one arm and a spoon in the other. Flour was dusted across your face and your hands were splotched with food colouring stains. Which matched the batch of rainbow coloured cookies behind you. 

“Err, no. I was just-”

“Here, sit. I’ll make you some tea.”

“I don’t really drink..tea.” 

Logan was still taking in the room. Every time he looked back to a spot, he found a new detail to it. Extra herbs, or ingredients, or even flowers. 

You smiled, placing down the bowl and spoon before moving across the kitchen to the simmering pot on the stove. 

“Here, try this.”

“Oh, I, uh-”

“Just drink it.” You sighed a little, with a light smile. Nobody would have to meet Logan to know he wasn’t a tea drinker. But he was also polite enough to accept a drink. 

And he did. 

“Is this where you work?”

You nodded, going back to the fresh batch of cookies you needed to start scooping out. 

“Do you usually work this late past midnight?”

You chuckled a little to yourself. “Sometimes. Mostly it’s because I think of a new recipe and want to try it out when no-one's gonna disturb me.”

“Am I disturbing you?”

“No. Plus, I heard you coming down the stairs. Figured it wouldn’t be long before you found another night owl.”

Logan grunted with a soft chuckle. “I don’t think it’s intentional being a night owl.”

You shrugged. “We all have our reasons.”

Logan nodded and took another gulp of his tea. If he thought he felt relaxed when he walked into the kitchen, he didn’t have a word for what he was feeling after the tea. 

“Hey, what’s in this tea?”

“Not much. Chamomile mostly.”

Logan nodded. But then something shifted. He was getting drowsy. Not relaxed. Not sleepy. Drowsy. 

“Hey, what did you put in this?”

Logan went to stand and repeat his question, but he was out like a light before he could finish. 

Logan, for the first time…ever, woke up slowly. From the light that came flooding in through his window, to slowly turning over and feeling the bones in his body crack just right to allow his joints to feel at ease, to not thinking a thing as his brain slowly turned back into gear. 

Then he jerked up. 

With a grunt, he looked around him. 

He was in his room. 

The last thing he could remember was your tea and the kitchen. 

Flinging the covers from him, he tore his way out of his room and down the hallways until he finally reached his destination. 

The Professor’s office. 

Walking inside, he found the situation entirely too calm. 

“Ah, good morning Logan. Glad to see you’re finally awake.”

“What the hell happened?” 

“You fell asleep. Y/n helped put you to bed before you collapsed on her kitchen floor.”

Logan turned at that moment to find you sat on the sofa by the window inside the office. 

“You.” Logan practically snarled. “You did something. What did you do?”

Logan approached you but where anyone else would have flinched, you didn’t. In fact, all you did was sit back further and smile up at him. 

“She didn’t do anything, Logan. You needed to sleep.”

Logan turned and looked at the Professor. “Don’t mean I have to be drugged.”

Then you stood. “It was just a little tea, Logan. The more exhausted you are, the faster and harder it works. But now you look more rested. Your skin looks less like you’ve been thrown into a washing machine for a couple spins.”

“Are you always this blunt?”

You smiled. “It’s part of my charm.”

“Ain’t nothing charming about this conversation, doll.”

“Really? Because I’m finding this thrilling.”

Professor X smiled. “Okay, that’s enough, you two.”

“She started it!”

You just smiled again. “You’re welcome. If you ever need more tea, you know where to find me.”

With a pat to his arm, you walked past him and said your goodbyes to the professor before heading for the door. 

“Don’t worry about it, you can keep your tea.”

“Have to admit, though. I did help.”

Internally, reluctantly, he did have to. Because despite everything, it was one of the best nights of sleep he’d ever had. 

Another week rolled by and despite Logan doing everything he could to avoid the woman that he still considered had drugged him to sleep, he seemed to see more of you. 

Turns out, you taught cooking and baking classes to the students so they could at least make themselves a decent meal every once in a while instead of quick ramen noodles. And you also taught outdoor survival skills which Xavier had Logan help sub in with. 

But this also meant, much to his chagrin, Logan was actually starting to like you. 

Rather than wanting to storm off in the other direction, he wasn’t annoyed by your presence in the room anymore and you definitely had a way with teaching a group of rowdy teenagers who would rather do anything other than learn normal “camp” things. 

It was actually entertaining watching you teach your students. And even he learnt a thing or two.

Another week passed and Logan found himself back in your kitchen, sitting at the kitchen island, watching you as you lent one palm on the counter top, a pencil between your teeth and two pens behind one of your ears. 

“Want some tea?” You asked him after a few minutes of content silence. 

“Are you going to drug me again?”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s store bought, Logan. I just added a couple extra things.”

“Really, like what?”

Sighing, with a slight smirk, you turned around and pulled the box of tea from the cabinet before throwing it at Logan from over your shoulder. “Read it. It tells you what to add.”

“They actually sell this stuff?”

You turned back to your messy notebook with a smile. “It helps when your grandmother worked in the tea business for forty years. All the tricks of the trade, passed down through generations.”

Logan watched you work- no, dance around the kitchen. You didn’t even have to look at what you were doing and before he knew it, there was another tea in front of him, in a glass mug with hand-painted roasting logs on it. 

Logan looked at it for a moment and then you spoke up, without looking in his direction. “Being a night owl means different hobbies can be created. Glass painting was one of them.”

Logan shrugged with a nod before drinking his tea. The effects weren’t as quick or as “violent” as the first time. Instead, it was calming, then relaxing, then just plain and simple tiredness. 

“Go to bed, Logan. Before you crash into my floor again.”

“How did you get me to bed the last time? I’m not exactly all flesh and blood.”

You shrugged. “I’m stronger than I might look to you. But, go to bed, Logan.”

“Will you?”

“Will I do what?”

“Go to bed, too?”

You turned and faced him. “Soon. I want to finish this up first.”

“What are you even doing?”

“New recipe. I shouldn’t be long. Look, I promise. Twenty minutes, I’ll be in my bed, fast asleep.”

Logan raised his brow for a moment but then stood. If he waited any longer, he might actually crash onto the floor again. 

“Okay, fine.”

And you stuck to your word. Logan heard your footsteps coming up the stairs less than ten minutes later and after that…he didn’t remember much other than just complete calmness and sleep. 

The next couple of nights followed the same pattern. And even if he still wasn’t a tea drinker, Logan was growing a (small) taste for it. 

Until one night he walked in and found you stood in the corner, changing your t-shirt. 

You already wore a cami top underneath most of your t-shirts anyway – especially in the kitchen, but your first one had gotten too messy. So you were safe when changing. Except, you hadn’t expected Logan to walk in when he did. 

He paused for a minute by the door, a little apprehensive to make himself known but also trying to do so, so it wouldn’t seem like he was just watching you change your top t-shirt. But at the same time, he didn’t want you to know he was standing there because he could finally look at you. 

More so, when he saw your shoulder. 

From your left shoulder spread and faded over the top and to your right, a mark similar to a burn. The skin was scarred, yet healed over. A forgotten memory. The strap of your top cut through the larger scar that ran directly across the middle of the scarred skin, almost in a wave. Parts were redder than others but you didn’t seem to be in pain as you pulled the t-shirt over the top of your head and down your body, covering it back up. 

Logan coughed as he entered and you turned around, greeting him as you did every night. 

“New recipe?”

You nodded, looking at the messy t-shirt in your hand. “Yeah, it didn't go over too well with the mixer.”

“Better luck next time.”

And then you both just…talked. 

You were slowly telling him a little more about yourself each night, even if you didn’t know it yet. 

“I just remember being thrown into the wall and waking up like an hour later, completely covered in green brownie batter.”

You both laughed as you told him the story, but then he asked. 

“Is that where the scar is from? On your back?”

It was almost as if you had forgotten about it, having to take a moment to realise what he was talking about.

“Oh, that. No, that…that’s nothing important.”

Logan knew to drop his line of questioning. If you said it was nothing important, then there was no way of getting you to talk about it. 

Until the day he found you napping on the sofa. 

Everyone was outside for the day considering it was winter break and fresh snow had finally fallen on the ground. Except, you had opted to stay inside, and fell asleep on one of the central sofas in one of the quieter communal areas. 

The large windows let a lot of natural light flood in, and the fire that was crackling away in the fireplace was enough to heat the room, especially when the door was closed. 

And it wasn’t long before the quiet hum of the fire and odd crackle of the wood, mixed with the heat and your lack of sleep, overtook you and you fell asleep. You didn’t even wake when your book dropped from your hand and onto the floor. 

“Hey, Y/n, they’re all-”

Logan stopped in his tracks when he saw you. 

Fast asleep. 

He was careful to remain quiet as he walked over to you, cutting between you and the coffee table to pick up your fallen book and place it safely onto the table, where he sat on the edge and took a minute to just…memorise you. 

Since he met you, you had done nothing but be moving. All the time. From the crack of dawn to nightfall, you were constantly going and running and teaching and baking and doing and…hell, for all he knew, you could be something other than mutant or human – even those two needed sleep at some point. 

Hell, even he needed sleep. 

But you were just constantly forever going. 

Lay on your left side, your elbow tucked under your head, you were lightly snoring. Logan brushed the stray hairs that had fallen in front of your face, away, his hand rested on your cheek for a moment, his thumb brushing across your cheekbone for a second. 

You were fast asleep. 

Your worn Beatles band-tee was twisted slightly around your middle, whilst the waist of your jeans had twisted in the opposite direction a little, leaving a small gap that showed Logan the redness from the indent marks of where you had been lay, probably, on your other hip for a while. 

Logan thought about covering you up, and leaving you where you were, for a moment. But he also knew you could be like him when it came to sleep. And it was best to get it when you could. So, rather than chance the kids coming back in and waking you up, he made a decision. 

You flinched a little in your sleep as he spoke to you and lifted you from the sofa. It wasn’t long before he found your room and laid you into bed before covering you up. 

Once more, he brushed the hair from your eyes as you turned onto your side again. 

He looked around for a moment before finding what he was looking for. 

A heavy blanket. 

He lay it over the top of your bedcovers and you, before moving across the room to light the fireplace. 

Only, as he did so and placed the fireguard in front, you whimpered. 

He turned around but you were still. 

Then you whimpered again. 

“No,” you whispered. 

Logan moved over to you quickly and quietly as he could. You fell silent again. 

He let out a small breath and covered you up a little more before leaning down. He didn’t know why, but he pressed a small kiss to your temple before walking away. 

Except you reached out for his hand. 

Logan looked down at his hand that was connected with yours, then to you. You were still asleep. 

But it didn’t look like it was a good dream. 

You were shaking. Your entire body seemed to be paralysed with fear, all the while you were mumbling words Logan just couldn’t quite make out. 

Then the glass of water by your bed started shaking. Then the table it was on. Then your bed. Then the floor. Whatever was happening to you was spreading throughout your room. 

A picture that had been hanging on the wall outside, fell to the floor. 

Quickly turning back to you, Logan took hold of your shoulder. He kept calling your name but it was like you couldn’t hear him. 

“Please…please don’t hurt them. Please.” You screamed and then grunted in pain. Whatever was happening in your nightmare, you were being hurt. Badly. 

“Hey, Y/N! Hey, you’re okay! You’re safe! You’re in New York. You’re at school! It’s not real, Y/N. None of it is real.”

Your head shifted. You were searching. 

“I’m right here. None of it is real. You need to wake up.”

“L…Logan?” 

The violent shaking in your room slowed for a moment.

He was shocked. Maybe…

“Just follow my voice. It’s just a nightmare. I can’t get into your head and bring you out. Just…follow my voice.”

The shaking around your room gradually slowed, but you still were. Then your eyes opened. 

And glowed. 

They were still your eyes just…brighter. 

“Logan?!”

He had stopped speaking. You were panicking. 

“It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m right here.” Logan took hold of your hand and held it tighter. “You’re safe.”

The shaking slowed and your eyes closed again. 

Then everything stopped. 

Everything went silent. 

Logan looked at the glass of water beside your bed. It was like it had never moved. 

Then you gasped and shot up from your bed. You kicked your legs and brought your hands behind you to push yourself up and the covers from you. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey, hey, Y/n. Hey,” 

You were gasping for breath, dizzy from your nightmare. 

“Hey, it’s me. Whoa. Hey, look at me. It’s Logan.”

He took you by your shoulders then your face. 

“It’s Logan.”

You finally calmed a little, and he watched your eyes search his entire face until you finally recognised him. 

“Logan,” you breathed. 

“Yeah…”

Your shoulders relaxed and you leaned closer to him, wrapping your arms around him. His hand held the back of your head and his other round your back, pressing you further into him. He could still feel your body trembling. 

“What happened?”

“You had a nightmare.” Logan told you. “The room started shaking and I tried waking you up.”

You took a couple of breaths before moving back and pushed the hair from your face and curled your legs up closer to your chest. 

Logan, sat beside them, placed one of his hands on your knee and the other in your right hand. 

“What happened?”

You shook your head. “Nothing-”

“The entire room started shaking and your eyes glowed. That’s not ‘nothing important’, Y/n.”

You swallowed and nodded your head before dropping your gaze and shifting until you were sat up, crossed-legged. 

Logan remained where he was, sat on the edge of your bed. 

“Before I worked as a teacher and cook here, I was one of them.” The last four words came out slowly, almost like you had to convince yourself you were saying them out loud. “I was an X-Man. I was a part of the team.”

“So what happened?”

“The usual. A mission gone wrong.”

“And that’s what the nightmares…”

You nodded. “It was the mission that made me retire. They needed me to do a job, and I couldn’t do it. There were kids, mutants, being held captive. Some rich dick thought he could duplicate mutants. As the team went it, I was meant to be holding ground outside, helping them find their way through. Only, I didn’t shut off my power. We knew they had someone who could detect me if I didn’t. I got so focused on trying to find the kids, trying to make sure the team got to them that the team almost…”

You paused for a minute. You hadn’t told anyone this story. Ever. 

Logan took your hand. “It’s okay. It’s just me.”

You let Logan’s touch soak into your skin. A memory you’d never forget yet never truly remember why you never would forget. 

“They almost died, Logan.” You looked at him and he could see the tears behind your eyes, threatening to come forward and fall again. “Everyone almost died, because I didn’t shut it down. You asked about the scar, the one on my back?”

Logan nodded. He didn’t like where this was going. 

“It’s from that day. One of their scientists had set off some kind of power..thing. Sent me flying blocks away from where I was supposed to be. I crash landed into some old wooden panelling which knocked me down. But once I got up…their Superhuman had found me.”

“Was he the one that-”

You nodded, remembering it as if it was yesterday. “I was thrown, this time on my front. I tried to get up but then all I felt was pure fire. He was burning me. Giving me a reminder of why ‘someone like me, born with the powers of gods’ shouldn’t have them when I was clearly so ‘weak’. By the time he stopped, I realised where he was going. And by the time I got up, everything just…blew up.”

“Y/n, everyone’s safe. You’re all here. Don’t you teach some of those kids?”

You nodded. “Doesn’t mean I don’t forget that feeling. One of the kids had been watching the guards, tracking their materials to find a way out. If they hadn't done that…they wouldn’t have gotten out, Logan. And they almost didn’t. All because I couldn’t fight. I can’t be the reason why I lose my family and the people I love.”

The tears came forward now, streaming down your face at an unstoppable speed. 

“I just can’t.”

Logan shook his head, pushing himself closer to you to hold you. And you let him. Leaning into him, you felt his arms grow tighter around your body. There was a small security in his arms, one that you hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“None of that was your fault.” Logan told you. “I know you and I know this team. You would never intentionally hurt people. And forgetting to turn your powers off? We’ve all made mistakes in moments like that. Sometimes you get so focused on one person, you tend to lose all sense of self. But none of that was your fault. They got out. They’re all here. They’re all alive. And rich dick is spending his life as dust in the fucking wind.”

“Believe me, I’ll be the first to tell you changing your feelings on something won’t stop the nightmares.” Logan continued. “But you need to find a way to let it go. Don’t let them control you. Not when you won. Not when you’re here, with everyone, able to drug me with some store bought tea.”

You laughed a little at that, wiping your tears away before Logan did the same thing, brushing his thumb underneath your eye and across your cheek. Logan smiled a little. Others might have called it a muscle flex, but knowing Logan; it was a small, brief smile. 

“Don’t let them win.”

You nodded, your head still in his hands. 

“Logan? Will you…Can you stay?”

It seemed to take Logan a second to find his answer. What you couldn’t see was that most of that time, he was trying to figure out why his answer came as fast as it did for him. 

“You don’t-”

“I can stay.”

You looked up at him and nodded with a slight smile. 

Moments later, Logan had kicked his shoes off and was lying beside you in bed. 

“Logan?”

“Yeah?”

You took his hand that lay between you both and turned your head to look at him. 

“Thank you for staying.”

It was his turn to turn his head and when he did, he felt something. The same feeling he’d been getting since the day you gave him his first cup of tea. 

Logan just nodded before lifting his arm. “Come here.”

You moved closer to him as he lifted the covers a little so you could do so. Then he dropped his arm around your back, his palm flush against its centre before it slid a little lower to hold you by your waist. 

As your head settled close to his chest, he dropped his head a little, leaning his jaw against the top of your head and as he felt you relax and close your eyes, he did the same thing. 

The moment your breathing became even, and he knew you were asleep, Logan settled back down and held you just a little tighter against him as he closed his eyes and joined you in a dreamless sleep. 

Hours passed and Charles hadn’t seen either you or Logan in hours. But when he spotted a picture frame that had fallen onto the floor, just outside of your room, he sped as quickly as he could down the hall, but paused when he saw the door open and a sight he didn’t think he’d get to witness for at least a few more months. 

From the hallway, Charles peered in to find the snow falling heavily outside of your window. The children and other teachers were still outside playing. The fire had died down a little, but even he could feel the heat from the room. 

And in the middle of the left hand wall through the door, was your bed. 

Where yourself and Logan slept soundly, almost as one. With your face and hand on his chest, and his arm around your waist, whilst his other hand held onto your arm in a soft grip, keeping your hand on him. 

Xavier could practically feel the serenity oozing from the pair of you. He knew Logan was troubled and that you yourself hadn’t felt safe or content in a long time. 

And he would never have to tell Logan of the change you brought to him, or the one he brought to you. The change that helped you feel safe again, content again. Happy again. Without the added feeling that something was about to go off kilter. 

Because Logan already knew. 

And so did you. 

And for Logan, no matter how many times you would tell him you were “nobody important”, you would always be important to him. 

[quasi-normalcy]

It seems kind of weird from the vantage point of the 2020s that an original movie could ever get the same degree of cultural penetration as 'Star Wars' or 'Jaws' or 'Alien'. What do you suppose was the last original movie that came out such that everyone was kind of familiar with it, its characters, its settings, it plot beats, even if they hadn't personally seen it? When will we ever see the like again?

[a-most-beloved-fool]

Kinda want to write a Spock POV post-fal-tor-pan fic where Spock sees Jim and is instantly whammed with the fact that he's in love with him, but still has no idea why or what that means, so he just goes around with a knot of love tangled in his mind, utterly baffled as to why it's there or how to figure it out. He can't ask the kolinahr adepts, because it feels un-vulcan, so instead he's just. confusedly pining the entire time.

Jim smiles sappily at him and Spock's like "My Heart Is Beating Faster. Why Is My Heart Beating Faster. There Is No Cause For My Heart To Be Beating Faster. Do I Have Tachycardia."

Spock, to McCoy: Doctor, is there history of heart disease in my family?

Bones, suspicious: Yes? Why? (already surreptitiously scanning Spock w/ a tricorder)

Spock: I have noticed concerning irregularities in my heart beat. They occur primarily around Admiral Kirk.

Bones, freezing: Repeat that for me, Spock?

Spock: I have noti-

Bones: No, not that, the next bit! Where they happen!

Spock: Ah. Around Admiral Kirk.

[FIVE MINUTES LATER]

Spock, annoyed: Doctor, cease laughing. I fail to understand what part of my medical condition you find so amusing.

Bones, still wheezing with laughter: Don't - don't you worry your little head about it, Spock. You're not sick, that's the important thing. (interrupts himself by laughing again) You'll (wheeze) figure it out eventually.

(Spock, disgruntled, gives up on him and leaves.)

(McCoy keeps laughing for another ten minutes.)

[deuterium51614]

This base by dalgyu_777 was suggested to me in a Pinterest email this morning, and I couldn't resist drawing a version with the third years.

I did my initial sketch from memory (you can tell I don't draw Atsushi that often).

Felt like doing a looser line art, so I referenced the rough season one character sheets I won in that auction a while back.

Anyway, I binged this in two sittings. Didn't keep track of how long it took me, though...

(Keep meaning to test out the screen recording feature of CSP, but always forget until I'm already far in...)

[panstovoid]

If anyone ever asks me what a queer platonic relationship is it is literally the spider-teens from the spiderverse series.

[dogoryx]

The mountain call

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

Ngl it's weird finishing the Knuckles tv show and going to tumblr about it only for people (even who I consider bigger name fans) who also watched the entire show to claim that it "confirmed Knuckles Wachowski"

Like

I'm sorry

Did you somehow miss the part in the last episode where Knuckles had a whole montage of hanging with the Whipple family and Wade and saying "home" or something?

[blue-mood-blue]

Saw just enough of The Sound of Music tonight that I was reminded of Captain von Trapp mentioning that the most important thing in his house is discipline (or some such sentiment), and

because I have the brain rot

While I cannot conceivably find a way to make that specifically into an au, I was nonetheless charmed by the thought of disciplinarian and rule-abiding Lan Wangji vs sunny and energetic Wei Wuxian cheering up the juniors with a little music tell me you are not turned to mush by Wei Wuxian teaching juniors the equivalent of “my favorite things” I dare you

Anyway

All of this to say, a no-sunshot-campaign au where, for whatever reason, Wei Wuxian is invited as a guest lecturer at Cloud Recesses. There are several thousand rules that Wei Wuxian is ignoring at any given moment. Lan Wangji, who is in charge of discipline, is annoyed (intrigued). Tiny juniors are following their new teacher’s heels all around while he’s playing the dizi like a more adorable version of the pied piper (and perhaps Wei Wuxian warns them with a wink that he is Very Evil and he is going to Steal Them Away which is met with un-Lan-like giggling). The Elders have discussed sending him back to Lotus Pier but, unfortunately, he is a fantastic teacher.

There are also, of course, shenanigans. Night hunt field trips. Wei Wuxian inflicting his cooking upon the poor, innocent youths. Bad dreams on both sides leading to some broken curfews and soft music in the garden. Some conflicting curriculums - not “demonic cultivation” level, but there are a lot more disciples asking a lot more questions in their other lectures.

Lan Qiren is incensed.

Lan Xichen refuses to do anything about it (he is watching his brother watching Wei Wuxian and waiting).

Lan Wangji should be doing his job of disciplining but, you see, whenever he tries Wei Wuxian smiles at him or hands him a bunny or chatters about how well the Lanlings are doing or about an idea he has for a lesson, and what is he to do? Stop that from happening?? Remove the smile from this man’s face??? That would be a crime.

(Lan Qiren gets the abridged version of this sentiment, which amounts to “Wei Wuxian is good” and he despairs. He is fighting a losing battle to send the guest teacher home.)

(The losing battle becomes a lost battle when Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian play a duet for the juniors together and share a kiss as soon as the juniors are out of sight and off to their next lesson. Lan Xichen catches his brother pacing while on patrol that night, his face as forlorn as it ever is, and says “You know, we could… offer him a permanent place here?”)

Lan Wangji writes to Lotus Pier that Cloud Recesses will not be returning their head disciple. The entire sect hears the “WHAT” and “HE CAN’T STEAL MY BROTHER” echoing from Jiang Cheng’s general direction.

[theragamuffininitiative]

POV you've been beaten up by fake designers while pretending to be a designer and hung upside down and your partner is flirting with a model who has passed out and you're being held at gunpoint by the guy who cuts the fabric who is also an aspiring designer and it's mostly your partner's fault:

There are enthusiastic kazoos playing your soundtrack btw.

[seizethedeansofproduction]

I just know that after Annie, Troy, and Abed watched Spiderverse, they all went as spiderman variants for halloween

[c6-skysyzygy]

As they often do

[softquietsteadylove]

can you write thenamesh The Tourist AU pls? if you can’t/don’t want to it’s totally alright i love your work anyway <3💌

Gil just stared. He couldn't believe it, and he was seeing it. But this woman - the most beautiful woman he had ever set eyes on in his life - just...sat right down. He looked around a little, trying to see if she had mistaken him for someone else. But she was looking right at him. "Uh, h-hello."

"Hello." God, even her voice was gorgeous. He closed his lame little spy book on the table between their seats. "I'm Thena. What's your name?"

"Gil."

"That's a terrible name."

"It's the only one I've got," he shrugged sheepishly, and she smiled. This was different from the smile she had sat down with, too. This was more genuine seeming (cuter). "It's short for Gilgamesh."

"Hm," the woman's eyes dashed down to the table for a second before coming back up to him. "Better."

It was still the only name he had. "So, uh, what brings you to Venice?"

She eyed him, and then those killer eyes floated a little away from him too. She still seemed to be looking for someone, even if he was the one on whom she had settled. "Meeting someone."

"Ah." Of course--of course the positively stunning woman was already meeting someone. Probably a husband, if not a very handsome partner. He watched as she peeled her gloves off.

She didn't have a ring on. "And you?"

"Hm?" he blinked, still borderline dizzy from the appearance of this woman in his life.

"What brings you here," she paused, her perfect lips forming his name before it was spoken aloud, "Gilgamesh?"

"Just Gil," he corrected her and then immediately shook his head. She smiled again, though--that more real one. He smiled too, somewhat encouraged. "I'm just a tourist, really."

She tilted her head at him. "Just a tourist?"

Gil blushed faintly, fiddling with the worn and frayed edge of his book cover. "I teach."

"Here for summer break, is it?"

"Something like that," he chuckled, looking at her hands again. It was entirely possible that she simply didn't feel the need to wear one. Or perhaps they had been together so long it was a formality. But he couldn't help but tilt his head right back at her.

"What?"

He shrugged, shaking his head faintly. "Look, far be it from me to ask a lady this. But you seem...I dunno, a little lonely?--or something."

But she smiled at him again, although it was back to being that faker one. It did seem a little sad, though. "Aren't we all?"

He was a single teacher taking a train to Venice alone, who was he to talk? "Yeah, I guess we are."

"Wife?"

Definitely not. "Nothing of the sort. You?"

She looked down at her hands too, and maybe the lack of ring was not entirely by choice. "That has yet to be seen."

Were they going to be engaged? Or maybe was she was going to break things off, offer some dramatic ultimatum.

"Invite me to dinner, Gil."

He liked how she said Gil. It sounded so gentle and warm off her lips. Truly stunning lips. He cleared his throat, "would you like to have dinner?"

"Don't phrase it as a question."

"You said ask you to dinner."

"I said to invite me to dinner," she countered, and hints of the smile were returning. She was a woman who knew what she was after (god he liked that). "Try again."

He laughed, but sure, he gave it another shot. "Have dinner with me."

"Too demanding." Okay, now he was pretty sure she was just having some fun with him. "You are not summoning me. Again."

He sighed and rolled his eyes, and he did get a more genuine laugh out of her. Y'know what?--so long as she was having fun, maybe this wasn't so bad. "Uh...dinner?"

"Still a question," she borderline teased him. She leaned forward in her seat faintly, "once more."

One more shot to have dinner with the woman of his dreams. He straightened up in his seat, rolled his shoulders back and tugged at his sports coat. She seemed to respond to this, mirroring his posture. "I'm having dinner, if you care to join me."

Now the smile was back, and in full force. She smiled with all her teeth, which was really cute. She had a very pretty smile for an even more beautiful face. But he got the distinct impression there was a lot more to her than her looks.

"I would be delighted."

"Well then," Gil nodded, tapping his fingers against the edge of the table and its white table cloth. He still didn't know what made her come over to him, and ask him to dinner (or ask him to ask her to dinner, more like). But he smiled, "shall we?"

"Lets," she agreed. She was waiting for him to make the first move again.

Okay, sure; Gil stood, adjusting his plain old blazer and tugging at the sleeves to make sure they were straight. He was a little underdressed compared to Thena in her stark white dress and fancy gloves. But he held his hand out for her, "madame?"

"Enchante," she smiled, slipping her hand into his to stand as well. Her eyes darted around a little over his shoulder but perhaps he was being paranoid thanks to his silly spy book. "Have you had the food board?"

"From Padua to here," he nodded as he led them in the direction of the dining car. How she walked in those heels was beyond him, even if the train was pretty smooth a ride. "It's not bad."

"Padua," she mused and them grinned at him again, "you really are a tourist."

He pinked again, and he was beginning to think she just enjoyed flustering him. "Where are you coming from?"

She did that thing where she kind of scanned behind around them again before answering, "Paris."

He scoffed, rolling his eyes, "overrated. And you call me the tourist."

She tugged at his sleeve faintly, as if to admonish him, "you're the American."

He chuckled, "guilty."

"Not yet," she whispered as she moved in the train aisle to walk ahead of him. He was about to ask her about it when she turned back to him, "are you ready for this?"

He wasn't entirely sure what she was asking about, but he was damn ready to find out.

[amrv-5]

survived Badly (argh) but going to work on fic for as long as I continue to enjoy doing so then switch over -- see if I can find somewhere to watch The 400 Blows and probably cry forever and dehydrate and feel soooo sad and then feel better after. Thank you French New Wave

[theimpossiblescheme]

Say what you will about the Cyrano movie (and one day I'll be able to in a halfway articulate manner), but I am still mildly obsessed with "Every Letter", and I think about this ending couplet all the time...

Your letters are drawings on me from above I know who you are and I know you are loved

Just... the idea of Cyrano and Christian receiving a letter in return from Roxanne and feeling their breath catch both with ecstasy and with bitter regret.

I know who you are...

But she can't. But she mustn't. But it would break her heart--she would never trust them again. But it wouldn't be fair to Christian. But Cyrano could never show his face again. But they already feel themselves burn under her gaze, and to meet it honestly without the armor of a soldier, of these letters, would scorch them until nothing remains. But the only true honor is to hide, even if they know it's really the coward's way out. But the only safety (if they were being brutally honest with themselves) is to hide.

... and I know you are loved.

But God, they wish they didn't have to.

[karinyosa]

cleaning out my following list and am being reminded of the phase i had where i was trying to make myself feel about being wlw the way i felt about being mlm (which is not what i called it at the time and also i was bisexual at this time) and i did this by. following every random carol fan blog i could find jshdsjhshjdsdcjhsdjchsbjdcgshdcjsdghcjh

[rintoki]

SIX SIX SIX FORBIDDEN ANGSTY ROMANCE WITH KAVEH?! Inspired from the song shameless by camilla cabello. Reader and kaveh are spies from opposing agencies and they encounter each other at a party (for one of the missions) inside a huge hotel.

When they both reach a VIP room to get their mission done, the owner of the room comes in and so they have to hide in a secret corner. Bodies touching, eyes searching for each other in the light sneaking in and breaths competing in speed.

All their previous encounters, rough words, soft touches and whispering conversations along their gazes come back like a bitter memory to them. They want to touch each other. Melt into one and fuck this forsaken life. But they cant. Their hands are just wandering over one another, fearing to touch another yet burning inside because of the intensity. So their glazed eyes try to satisfy what their heart and bodies cannot.

Anyways hows your day?🤩🤩

ok this took me a while to answer bc i was thinking about how i feel about this LMAO

mmm despite being on opposing agencies you two are on amicable terms, in fact you quite enjoy his company. and of course because your bosses hate each other, they would send their best to try to secure this highly classified and lucrative mission away from their rival.

and so all dolled up you get, in your best dress as you make your way into the ballroom, an intricately designed mask on your face as you scan the crowd for your target. but instead of the objective your eyes land on a familiar figure, one whose eyes are already looking at you.

despite the sea of people between you two and the mask covering half your face, you still managed to find each other. and maybe you could blame his brilliant red eyes for being hard to miss, but you have no excuse for how your legs start to walk towards him, nor the smile that graces your lips at the thought of meeting him once again.

kaveh can’t lie and say that he didn’t first think about possibly crossing paths with you again when he received this mission. knowing the importance his boss placed on it, it was obvious that part of the reason why was because his rival agency—your agency—would be competing for it as well. would it be unprofessional of him to be excited for a mission just because he might run into you? kaveh doesn’t spare it a second thought as he makes his way into the party, he himself dressed to the nines as per the dress code. though that isn’t the only reason he’s put in the extra effort to look nice.

his breath catches when he finally spots you, even with the mask on he knows it’s you. from the way you walked to your dazzling smile, kaveh feels his heartbeat quicken as you approached him, his own two feet taking him to you and meeting you halfway.

pleasantries and smiles exchanged as you spoke, keeping a comfortable distance between each other despite the small tug in your heart to take another step, lean a little closer. but you easily quash such thoughts, your mission still in mind as you spot your target out of your periphery.

with sharp eyes, you observed your target, disappearing behind a door with a lady on his arm. it doesn’t take much to piece together that they are looking for a more private spot, and if you were to get close you needed to blend in. a plan quickly formulates in your mind, your eyes shifting back to the man in front of you.

it doesn’t even take a second for kaveh to catch on, spotting the target of the mission and putting two and two together. in his mind he knows what you’re doing, he knows that as you take a step forward, closing the distance between you two, and your eyes softens and your body language takes on a more flirtatious undertone. he knows you’re just putting on a show, in a party full of masked people, it’s not uncommon for two people to meet and follow each other behind closed doors.

and so he lets it happen; he lets you lead him by his hands, your smile pulling him in and soon you find yourselves in a hallway right behind the same door the target has entered. just as quickly your body language changes again, now more professional and serious. although kaveh knows this mission is just as important to his agency as it is to yours, right now he just can’t find it in himself to care about it all. he’ll gladly let you take it, and face the consequences later.

he watches as you navigate your way in the unknown space, trailing behind you while still maintaining a keen eye of his surroundings—a skill that was drilled into him since his early days on the job. the hallway leads down several doors and prior reconnaissance of the building telling you which doors lead to what. if your target is as high-ranking as you were told, an intelligent guess leads you down the hallway, deeper into the building.

the further you go the less doors there are, now just a long continuous hallway turning into a corner. the carpeted floor helps to silence your steps, but in turn muffles the steps of waiter you can’t see just around the bend, exiting the room after serving an important guest that you can only assume to be your target.

with no where to hide in the empty hallway, getting caught sneaking around where you aren’t supposed to be would be detrimental to the mission. the server’s trolley was already turning the corner and you needed to do something now, something that no one would question what two people in a secluded hallway are doing. you’re quick to think your feet, an apologetic look in your eyes when you turn to kaveh before pushing him gently but as quickly as you can against the wall.

without a word you kissed him, hands finding its way to his cheeks as soft lips pressed against each other, albeit a little rough and messy. kaveh doesn’t need a word; his hands wrapping around your waist and he pulls you close, easily keeping up with you as the server lets out a shocked gasp when he finally turns the corner. you hear a flurry of sounds as the poor worker scurries past you two making out against the wall, apologising profusely with his head down.

out of the corner of your eye, you make sure the server was gone before pulling away, taking a generous step away as you compose yourself. not the most graceful kiss but you needed it to look believable. you bowed your head a little, muttering a stiff apology before continuing on your way, as if it was all in a day’s work.

kaveh doesn’t say a word, his eyes merely following your figure as you walked away. the wall behind him was cool in contrast to how hot his body felt, supporting him in such a crucial moment where he felt his legs turn to jelly with you so close to him, invading his senses so suddenly. no amount of providence could have possibly prepared him for how good it felt to have you close, how your body felt pressed against his. how right it was.

and he can’t say it doesn’t sting when you march on forward, seemingly unaffected with only the mission in mind while he was left reeling, a little out of breath and his mind a mess. what is a man to do? does he run after you? and what then, what could he possibly say to you? or does he leave quietly and give up probably the closest chance he has to learning how you feel? the seconds tick by as you get further and further from him, and kaveh makes up his mind.

—

a/n: i think it’ll be funny if the bosses of the opposing agencies are actually like lovers to enemies and that’s why they hate each other LMAO also i hope that everyone that read through this whole thing was jebaited by suggestive angsty romance and instead got soft pining and longing YIPPEEE