#rogue loves playing with pens

[gemstarstarlight]

I sent this to my roommate who is Decidedly Not On Tumblr, but maybe you all will enjoy this better than she will.

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, always and forever ࿐‧₊ homecoming

chapter summary: While giving a guest lecture at your alma mater, you run into two people you never expected to meet.

word count: 9.4k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: the ending of this is kind of the set up for every other chapter; you'll see what i mean when you read it :)

warnings/tags: reader wears glasses, shy!reader, mention of absent parents, oral (f!receiving) fluff, slight angst

series masterlist - chapter 2 → chapter 4

“When two particles interact, they become linked, no matter how far apart they are. Changing one affects the other instantaneously, faster than light…”

Your voice faltered as you glanced at Logan, who sat at one of the desks, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching you with a small, amused smile. He wasn’t even trying to hide how much he adored you. You could practically feel it radiating off of him.

You froze mid-step, letting out a soft sigh. “This isn’t going to work,” you said, taking off your glasses and rubbing the bridge of your nose.

Logan raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “What’s not gonna work, sweetheart?”

“This,” you gestured toward him, exasperated but fond. “You’re looking at me like my husband, not a bored college student who probably only showed up because there’s free food after the lecture. How am I supposed to practice if you’re just… swooning at me?”

Logan leaned back in his chair, chuckling. “Swooning, huh? Don’t think anyone’s ever accused me of that before.”

You crossed your arms, trying to appear stern, but the warmth in his gaze made it impossible. “I’m serious, Logan. I need honest feedback, not… whatever this is.”

Pushing himself up from the chair, Logan walked toward you, his hands finding your waist as he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Alright, darlin’. Give me fifteen minutes. I’ll make it more realistic for you.”

“Logan—” you started to protest, but he was already heading toward the door, a sly grin on his face.

When he returned, you were taken aback. Logan had enlisted some of the younger students—Rogue, Bobby, and Kitty, among others—and had them seated in the classroom. To keep things authentic, he had provided them with snacks and, you suspected, strict instructions to act as uninterested and distracted as possible. Rogue was already doodling on her notebook, Kitty was whispering something to Bobby, and Jubilee was tapping her pen loudly on the desk.

You frowned, looking at Logan as he leaned casually against the wall near the door. “You know I already teach them, right? This isn’t exactly a new audience.”

Logan shrugged, that trademark smirk playing on his lips. “Yeah, but they’re good at actin’ like they don’t care. Go on. You’ve got this.”

Rolling your eyes, you adjusted your glasses and turned back to face the room. The students quieted down a little, though their expressions remained deliberately bored. With a deep breath, you launched back into your explanation, this time ignoring Logan’s soft chuckles in the background.

---

Later that evening, after the impromptu lecture had ended and Logan had dismissed the students, you found yourself in the library, curled up in one of the oversized chairs with a book. Logan entered quietly, his presence impossible to miss as he sat down on the arm of your chair.

“You did great, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and warm.

You glanced up at him, a small smile on your lips. “You think so?”

He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. “I know so. You’re brilliant. Just had to make sure you believed it.”

Feeling a little less shy, you reached up to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “Thank you, Logan. For always believing in me.”

His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “Always, darlin’.”

For a moment, the world seemed to still, and it was just the two of you, together in the quiet.

---

“Well, if there are no more questions…” Robert, one of the faculty at Stanford, looked out into the audience, giving a polite nod toward the murmuring crowd. “Alright, thank you, Mrs. Howlett, for coming all this way for us.”

The room began to stir as students shuffled in their seats, gathering their belongings. A few polite claps echoed, mingling with the hushed sounds of conversation. “There are some food and drinks out in the hall if you’d—ah, no point,” Robert trailed off as half the students ignored him, funneling toward the exit.

You stood by the podium, your heart still racing slightly from the presentation. Public speaking wasn’t your forte, but Stanford was your alma mater, and you’d been determined to deliver a polished talk. From your vantage point, you spotted Logan lingering near the back, his arms crossed, a half-smile tugging at his lips. He didn’t bother to hide the pride in his expression.

As the room emptied, Logan made his way toward you. His heavy boots echoed in the quieting auditorium, his presence grounding as always. “Told ya it’d go fine,” he said as he stopped in front of you.

You smiled, still a little flustered. “Yeah, well… you’re biased.”

Logan snorted. “Sure. But it doesn’t mean I’m wrong.” He reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear with a surprising gentleness. “Proud of you, darlin’. Bet half of them couldn’t keep up, but that’s their loss.”

Rolling your eyes, you adjusted your glasses. “Thanks, Logan. That was—”

“—adorable? Endearing? Downright brilliant?” he offered, smirking.

“Not what I was going to say,” you replied with a laugh, shoving his arm lightly. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

He stepped aside to let you lead the way, trailing comfortably behind you. Once outside, you were both met with the sharp, sunny California afternoon, a stark contrast to the cool Westchester climate you were used to. The warmth in the air was matched by your mood—light, content, maybe a little relieved.

But before either of you could make it to the parking lot, a voice called from behind.

“Excuse me! Y/N?”

You froze mid-step, the hair on your arms standing on end. Logan instantly noticed your shift, his body tensing as he placed a steadying hand on your lower back. Turning slowly, you were met with the sight of an older couple, a man and a woman in their late fifties or early sixties. The man wore a sharp suit, the woman a tasteful blazer, though they both looked somewhat uncertain, hesitant.

The woman took a step forward. “Hi… I—I know this is sudden, but…” Her gaze searched yours for recognition, but there was none. Her voice softened. “We’re your parents.”

Your stomach dropped.

The words hung in the air like they weren’t real, their weight pressing down on your chest. Your first instinct was to laugh, to brush it off as some cruel joke, but their expressions didn’t shift. They were hopeful. Nervous.

Logan’s hand tightened ever so slightly against your back, a subtle reminder that he was there. You swallowed hard, taking a shaky breath as your mind struggled to catch up.

“I—I don’t…” you stammered. “Why now?”

The man, your supposed father, winced. “That’s a fair question. We—well, we’ve always regretted not reaching out sooner.”

“Sooner?” The word caught in your throat as you tried to process. “I’ve been alive for twenty-seven years. You could’ve called. Written. Literally anything. But you didn’t. And now, suddenly—”

“We’re sorry,” the woman interrupted softly, her eyes glossy. “We want to get to know you, if you’ll let us. Maybe… dinner? Tonight?”

You flinched at the suggestion, glancing at Logan. His jaw was tight, his gaze scrutinizing, but he didn’t speak, letting you handle this at your own pace. For a moment, you wanted him to step in, to tell them off for their audacity. But you shook the thought away, taking another deep breath.

“I’ll think about it,” you finally managed, your voice flat. “Can I… get back to you?”

They nodded quickly, a mixture of relief and sadness flickering across their faces. “Of course,” your father said. “Here—” He handed over a business card, the expensive stock and minimalist design further underlining the contrast between their lives and the one you’d known.

After a few more polite murmurs, they walked away, leaving you standing there in stunned silence.

---

Back at the hotel, you paced the room restlessly while Logan sat on the edge of the bed, watching you with a mix of concern and quiet protectiveness. Finally, he broke the silence.

“Darlin’,” he said gently, “you don’t owe them anything.”

You stopped, turning to face him. “But what if I do? They’re my parents, Logan. My parents. And I don’t even know why they gave me up. What if it was something… unavoidable? What if they’ve changed?” You ran a hand through your hair, your glasses slipping slightly down your nose. “What if I’m just being a coward by not hearing them out?”

Logan stood, crossing the room in two strides to stand in front of you. His hands rested on your shoulders, grounding you. “Coward? No. You’re not that. But you don’t gotta torture yourself trying to fix somethin’ that ain’t your fault.”

His words soothed a little of the storm inside you, but they didn’t erase it entirely. “I know,” you murmured, leaning into his touch. “But if I don’t go, I’ll always wonder. I just…” You hesitated, looking up at him. “I don’t want to do it alone.”

His expression softened instantly. “You think I’d let you?” he said, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “If you decide to meet ‘em, I’ll be there. No question. Always.”

The weight in your chest lifted slightly. With Logan, it didn’t feel as scary. You nodded. “Okay. Let’s do it. Dinner.”

Logan pressed a light kiss to your forehead. “Alright, sweetheart. But just say the word, and we’re outta there.”

---

You fiddled with the edge of your dress, keeping your gaze down from your ‘parents’ across the small restaurant table. The world around you was warm and inviting—the soft clatter of plates, the low hum of conversation—but it might as well have been silent. Your parents, the very people who had abandoned you as a child, now sat across from you, smiling as though they’d earned this moment.

Logan, ever your anchor, sat beside you, his hand resting lightly on your knee under the table. The subtle pressure was calming, a wordless reminder that he was here, that you weren’t alone in this. You took a steadying breath and finally looked up to meet their gazes.

“So,” your mother began, her tone almost too casual, as though she were trying to bridge a lifetime of absence with small talk. “How long have you and Logan been together?”

You hesitated, glancing at Logan. He gave you an encouraging nod, his expression unreadable to anyone but you. “About a year and a half,” you said finally. “We got married six months ago.”

“Married already?” your father said, raising an eyebrow. “That’s… fast, isn’t it?”

“Not when you know it’s right,” Logan said smoothly, his voice low and steady. He leaned back in his chair, his arm now draped along the back of yours. Though he appeared relaxed, you could sense the subtle tension in his posture. He was watching them, every word and movement, like a hawk.

Your mother smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “And where do you work now? Still at Stanford?”

“No,” you replied, shaking your head. “I teach physics at a school in New York.”

“Physics,” your father repeated, his tone carrying a trace of surprise. “That’s impressive. Your grandmother always did say you were smart.” He sipped his wine, glancing briefly at Logan. “And Logan? What do you do?”

“I’m a teacher too,” Logan said simply, his gaze unwavering.

Your mother tilted her head, clearly not expecting that answer. “Oh? What subject?”

“History,” Logan replied. His tone was polite enough, but you could tell he was tiring of the scrutiny.

You shifted uncomfortably, eager to steer the conversation away from Logan. “What made you decide to reach out now?” you asked, your voice quieter than you intended but firm.

Your parents exchanged a quick look, and your mother’s smile faltered. “Well,” she began, folding her hands in her lap, “we’ve been thinking about you for a long time. And after your grandfather passed recently…” She trailed off, her expression turning somber.

Your chest tightened at the mention of your grandfather. Though your grandparents had divorced long before you were born, you’d had a close relationship with him growing up. Although, it had fizzled out when she died, he still made sure to send you letters every holiday.

Your father cleared his throat, his voice gentler now. “He left something for you in his will. A substantial inheritance. We thought it was important that we deliver the news personally.”

You blinked, stunned. “What?”

“He wanted you to have it,” your mother added quickly, as if that somehow justified their sudden reappearance in your life. “He left… quite a bit of money. Enough to make a difference.”

The words hung in the air like a lead weight. You glanced at him, and his jaw was set, his eyes sharp as they flicked between your parents.

“So, let me get this straight,” Logan said, his voice low and cutting. “You didn’t want her. Didn’t care enough to reach out for twenty-seven years. But now that there’s money involved, you’re here playin’ happy family?”

Your father bristled, his gaze hardening. “That’s not fair.”

“No?” Logan shot back, his tone daring him to argue. “Sounds pretty accurate to me.”

Your mother opened her mouth to respond, but the ringing of Logan’s phone cut through the tension. He pulled it from his pocket, glancing at the screen. “It’s Jean,” he muttered to you, standing. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

As Logan stepped away, your parents exchanged another look before your father let out a quiet scoff. “That’s who you married?” he said under his breath, though he didn’t bother to lower his voice enough for you to miss it.

Something in you snapped.

“That’s who I married,” you said sharply, your voice louder than you intended. Both of them turned to look at you, startled. “The man who’s been there for me every single day. Who loves me, supports me, and makes me feel like I matter. Unlike the two of you, who couldn’t even be bothered to stick around when I needed you.”

Your mother’s eyes widened. “We—”

“No,” you interrupted, standing now, your hands trembling. “You don’t get to explain. You don’t get to waltz into my life after nearly three decades and act like you care. You gave me up. You made that choice. And you don’t get to make me feel guilty for not wanting to play along with whatever this is.”

The restaurant was quiet now, other diners casting wary glances your way, but you didn’t care. You grabbed your bag, your heart pounding. “If Grandpa wanted me to have the money, fine. But don’t pretend you’re here for me. You’re here because you know you have no claim to it, and you’re hoping I’ll feel sorry enough for you to share.”

Your father’s face hardened, but your mother looked close to tears. As you turned to leave, you caught sight of Logan standing just outside the restaurant’s glass door, his expression unreadable. You knew he’d heard every word, his enhanced hearing ensuring he hadn’t missed a thing.

When you stepped outside, his arms were around you instantly, pulling you close. “You okay, darlin’?” he murmured, his voice low and steady.

You nodded against his chest, the weight of the confrontation beginning to lift. “Yeah,” you whispered. “I am now.”

Logan pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his grip tightening slightly. “Proud of you,” he said simply, and those three words meant more than anything else in that moment.

As you walked away from the restaurant together, hand in hand, you felt lighter. Logan was your family now, and with him, you had everything you needed.

---

Logan paced quietly near the small dresser in the hotel room, the dim light catching on the hard line of his jaw. You sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing your dress over your knees, the faint hum of the air conditioning filling the space. The weight of the confrontation had lifted slightly, replaced by a strange, bittersweet relief.

“Feel okay?” Logan asked, his voice soft, breaking the silence. He stopped pacing, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed as he looked at you.

You nodded, offering a small smile. “I think I do. It’s like… I finally said everything I’ve wanted to say for years. I’m not sure I even care about the inheritance. It’s just nice to have it out.”

Logan stepped closer, his movements measured, his eyes searching yours. “You were incredible back there,” he said. “I meant it when I said I was proud of you. Standing up for yourself, for us—it wasn’t easy, but you didn’t back down.”

His words sent a warmth through you that had nothing to do with the room. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. You felt the bed dip slightly as he sat down beside you, his arm coming to rest around your shoulders. He didn’t rush you, just sat there, his presence solid and grounding.

“You sure you’re fine?” he asked again, his fingers brushing against your shoulder in a light, comforting touch.

You tilted your head to look at him, your glasses slipping slightly down your nose. “I’m sure,” you said firmly this time, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips. “Especially with you here.”

Logan’s eyes softened, a small smirk forming as he leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. “You’re stronger than you think, sweetheart.”

His hand slid from your shoulder to the curve of your waist, his thumb brushing against the fabric of your dress. The touch was subtle, almost absentminded, but it sent a shiver down your spine. You leaned into him, your breath catching as his lips found the corner of your mouth.

“Logan,” you murmured, a hint of hesitation in your voice.

“Hmm?” His lips moved along your jaw, slow and deliberate, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re good, right? Tell me to stop if you need to.”

You shook your head, your hands finding his chest. “I don’t want you to stop.”

That was all he needed to hear. Logan’s lips claimed yours fully, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of your neck. The kiss was slow but deep, his tongue teasing against yours, drawing a quiet moan from your throat. His other hand slid lower, skimming the edge of your dress before tugging it slightly higher, his fingers brushing the bare skin of your thigh.

“You’re wearing this damn thing to kill me, aren’t you?” he muttered against your lips, his voice rough with need.

You flushed, a soft laugh escaping. “It’s just a dress.”

“It’s more than just a dress,” Logan said, his hand gripping your thigh, pulling you closer. His lips moved to your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin there. “It’s you in it.”

Your breath hitched as his teeth grazed your pulse point, your hands clutching at his shirt. “Logan…”

"Let me take care of you, darlin’," Logan murmured, his voice low and intimate. Before you could respond, he was guiding you back onto the bed, his hands sliding up your legs, pushing the fabric of your dress higher. His touch was firm yet deliberate, each movement precise and confident, like he already knew exactly what you needed.

The hem of your dress bunched at your hips as Logan settled between your legs, his rough hands warm against your thighs. His eyes met yours, the intensity there enough to send your heart racing. "Still okay?" he asked softly, his voice steady, but his grip tightened slightly, grounding you.

You nodded, breath hitching slightly. "I’m fine, Logan. Really."

A faint smirk tugged at his lips. "Good. ‘Cause I’m not stoppin’ unless you tell me to."

His hands pressed your thighs open further, his gaze locked on the spot where your panties were already damp. He hooked his thumbs into the fabric and dragged it down slowly, the rough pads of his fingers grazing your skin and making you shiver. The cool air of the room hit you, but Logan’s warm breath soon replaced it, and you squirmed in anticipation.

"Patience," he muttered, his tone edged with teasing as his hands slid back up your legs, spreading them wider. His lips pressed to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, leaving a trail of kisses that grew closer and closer to where you ached for him most.

"Logan," you whispered, your voice barely audible. It wasn’t a plea—it was a need, a longing you couldn’t contain.

"Yeah, sweetheart, I know," he murmured, his breath hot against you. Then his mouth was on you, his tongue moving with slow, deliberate strokes that had your hands clutching at the sheets. Logan worked with a practiced precision, the rough scrape of his stubble against your skin contrasting perfectly with the soft heat of his tongue.

Your head fell back against the pillows as a quiet gasp escaped your lips. The tension in your body began to melt away, replaced by a wave of warmth and pleasure that only he could give. His hands gripped your thighs firmly, keeping you in place as he delved deeper, his tongue exploring every sensitive spot with maddening care.

"You taste so fuckin’ good," he said against you, his voice a low growl that sent a fresh surge of heat through your body. He glanced up briefly, his lips glistening. "Could stay here all damn night."

You bit your lip, your hands reaching down to thread through his hair, the soft strands catching between your fingers. "Logan," you whispered again, more insistently this time. The sound of his name seemed to spur him on, his tongue circling that sensitive bundle of nerves before sucking gently, drawing a shuddering moan from you.

His hands tightened on your thighs, holding you steady as your hips jerked reflexively against his mouth. Logan groaned low in his throat, the vibrations sending another jolt of pleasure through you. He didn’t stop, didn’t slow, just kept up the steady rhythm that had your body trembling beneath him.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he muttered against your skin, his voice rough, his lips brushing the slick heat between your thighs. "Love hearing those sounds you make."

You swallowed hard, your breaths coming in shallow gasps. "Logan... please," you murmured, your fingers curling tighter in his hair, urging him closer.

"Please what?" he rasped, his lips pressing kisses along your inner thigh before returning to where you needed him most. His tongue flicked over your clit again, and you nearly cried out, your back arching off the bed.

Your voice was barely above a whisper. "Don’t stop."

Logan smirked against you, his hands shifting to grip your hips, pulling you closer to his mouth. "Didn’t plan on it, darlin’."

He was relentless, his tongue teasing and stroking in ways that made your head spin. The sensation built steadily, your body tightening as the heat coiled low in your belly. You couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but feel as he worked you over, his stubble rough against your skin and his tongue unyielding.

"Oh- Logan," you gasped, your thighs trembling against his shoulders. He hummed in response, the sound low and guttural, his hands flexing against your hips.

The tension inside you snapped suddenly, and your entire body arched as a wave of heat and pleasure crashed over you. You cried out, your fingers tugging at his hair as you rode out the aftershocks, your thighs quivering in his grasp. Logan didn’t stop until you were squirming, pushing weakly at his shoulders as the sensation became too much.

He finally pulled back, his lips and chin glistening as he looked up at you with a satisfied grin. "There’s my girl," he murmured, his voice soft but edged with pride.

You let out a shaky breath, your head falling back against the pillow as you tried to steady your racing heart. Logan moved up the bed, settling beside you, his hand brushing against your arm as he leaned in to press a kiss to your temple.

"You good?" he asked, his voice quiet, almost tender.

You nodded, your breath still uneven. "Yeah. I’m good."

Logan stretched out beside you, pulling you close until your head rested against his chest, the steady thump of his heartbeat grounding you. His hand rubbed slow circles on your back, his other arm draped over your waist.

"Meant what I said earlier," he murmured, breaking the comfortable silence. "You were amazing tonight. Stood your ground, didn’t take any crap. Made me proud, sweetheart."

A small smile tugged at your lips, and you tilted your head to look at him. "Thank you," you said softly, your voice steady now.

Logan leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "You don’t gotta thank me for telling the truth."

You settled back against him, your body relaxing completely for the first time all evening. Logan’s hand stayed firm on your back, his thumb tracing idle patterns against your skin as the quiet settled between you.

In that moment, there was no past, no lingering tension from the confrontation earlier. Just you and Logan, tangled together on the bed, his presence steady and unshakable.

---

You walked into the kitchen, the scent of freshly baked cookies still wafting in the air. Your eyes immediately caught Logan, mid-action, reaching for one of the chocolate chip cookies you and Jean had finished less than 30 minutes ago.

Before he could take a bite, you hurried over, grabbing his wrist. "Wait! I wanted that one!"

Logan looked down at you, raising an eyebrow in mild amusement. "There’s more right here, darlin’," he said, nodding toward the plate piled high with cookies on the counter.

You shook your head stubbornly, crossing your arms while keeping your hand on his wrist. "But I don’t want those," you said. "I want that one."

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. "They’re all the same, sweetheart," he teased, holding the cookie just out of reach and starting to lift it toward his mouth. "Bet you wouldn’t even know the difference."

"I would," you shot back quickly. "That’s the one I want, Logan."

He smirked, his lips curling around the edges of the cookie as if to bite into it anyway, just to prove a point. Your eyes narrowed, and you acted on pure instinct.

Leaning in quickly, you pressed your lips to his, a fleeting but deliberate kiss. The move startled him just enough to loosen his grip, giving you the perfect opportunity to snag the cookie out of his hand.

"Ha!" you exclaimed triumphantly, taking a step back and holding the cookie aloft like it was a trophy.

Logan blinked, recovering from the surprise, and his smirk deepened into a full grin. "Did you just—" he started, shaking his head as his laughter spilled out. "That’s dirty play, darlin’. Using a kiss to steal it? You’re lucky you’re cute."

You bit into the cookie with an exaggeratedly smug expression, savoring the sweet, warm taste. "Lucky has nothing to do with it," you replied between bites.

He stepped toward you, a playful gleam in his eyes. "You know that’s not gonna fly, right? No one steals from me and gets away with it."

You tried to dart around the island, but Logan was too quick. He caught you easily, one arm looping around your waist to pull you close. You squealed, half-laughing, holding the half-eaten cookie out of his reach.

"Let me finish it!" you said, your voice muffled by laughter.

"Not a chance," Logan murmured, his nose brushing against your cheek. "Not after that stunt."

"Logan!" You wiggled in his grip, still laughing, trying not to crumble what remained of the cookie.

He dipped his head closer, murmuring low against your ear, "Fine. You win. This time." Then, with one swift motion, he stole a bite of the cookie you were holding, his smirk more self-satisfied than ever as he pulled back.

"Hey!"

"What? Just evening the score," he said, popping the stolen bite into his mouth.

The playful bickering turned to more laughter as you stayed in the kitchen, Logan’s hold never loosening entirely. Jean walked in a moment later, glancing between the two of you, her hands on her hips.

"You two do realize there’s a whole plate of cookies, right?" she asked, her tone laced with amusement.

"It’s not about the cookie, Jean," Logan replied smoothly, casting you a wink that made your cheeks heat. "It’s the principle of the thing."

Jean rolled her eyes. "You two are ridiculous. But at least now I know who I should’ve made extra for."

Still tucked against Logan’s side, you shot her a sheepish grin. "It’s his fault," you said, trying—and failing—not to laugh.

Jean just shook her head, smirking. "Sure it is," she said before grabbing a cookie and walking out of the kitchen, leaving the two of you tangled together in the aftermath of your very serious cookie standoff.

Logan’s grip stayed firm as he kissed your temple, murmuring, "You’re somethin’ else, you know that?"

"Is that a bad thing?" you teased, nibbling at the remaining bite of your cookie.

"Not even close," he said with a warm grin, his thumb tracing a slow, reassuring pattern against your waist.

---

Logan grumbled at his desk, glaring at the stack of papers in front of him like they owed him money. Being the history teacher wasn’t exactly his dream job, and grading exams just reinforced how much he hated it.

"How the hell do you mess up World War II?" he muttered under his breath, flipping through yet another exam where half the essay was about Napoleon. "Wrong war, wrong damn century."

Arms came around his neck from behind, your soft sleep shirt brushing against his skin. “You’re gonna tear that paper from how hard you’re grippin’ it.”

Logan’s scowl softened as your voice cut through his frustration, and the stiff set of his shoulders relaxed just a little. He glanced over at you, leaning against him with sleepy eyes and tousled hair, clearly fresh from bed. You were wrapped up in one of his old flannel shirts, sleeves hanging past your hands, paired with soft, fuzzy sleep pants. The sight alone made him feel warmer.

“Kid deserved it,” he muttered, though his tone had lost its bite. He held up the offending exam. “Wrote about Napoleon in World War II. Napoleon. You believe that?”

You huffed a quiet laugh, lips brushing against the edge of his ear as you leaned closer. “Maybe they figured he’d make a comeback.”

“Yeah, well, if he did, he’d still lose.” He dropped the paper onto the growing pile with a grunt and tilted his head back to look up at you. “What’re you doin’ up? Thought you were out cold.”

“I was,” you murmured, fingers absentmindedly tracing the line of his jaw. “You weren’t there.”

Logan stilled for a moment, his sharp gaze catching yours even upside down. That quiet admission—so simple, so soft—always hit him deeper than he cared to admit. He reached up, catching your hand in his larger one, and brought it down to rest against his chest.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he said, voice lower now, rough around the edges like it always was when he spoke to you. “Go back to bed. I’ll join you in a bit.”

You stayed still, your other arm still looped around his neck as you leaned more of your weight against him. “You’ve been at this for hours,” you said softly, glancing at the remaining stack of exams. “You’ll fall asleep right here at the desk.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Logan said with a slight smirk, but when you didn’t let go, he sighed. “You don’t quit, do ya?”

“Not when it comes to you,” you answered with an ease that made his chest tighten.

A small, reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he turned in his chair, his hands landing lightly on your waist to steady you. “Alright, darlin’. You win.” He stood, forcing you to step back slightly, though he kept one hand on your hip as if afraid you’d float away otherwise. “But if I see Napoleon showin’ up in another World War II exam, I’m quittin’ this job.”

You grinned, taking his hand as you tugged him toward the bed. “I’ll talk to Scott. Maybe he’ll give you a raise.”

Logan scoffed. “Yeah, I’ll hold my breath.”

The bedroom was dimly lit, moonlight spilling through the partially open curtains. You crawled back onto the bed first, curling up under the comforter as you waited for him. Logan, meanwhile, paused just long enough to strip off his shirt, leaving him in just his sweats before he settled in beside you. The bed dipped under his weight as he pulled you close, his arm sliding under your head to tuck you against his chest.

You melted into him easily, your cheek pressed to his bare skin as you sighed contentedly. “See? Isn’t this better than failing kids for Napoleon?”

“I wasn’t failin’ him,” Logan murmured, his lips brushing the top of your head. “Gave him a mercy D.”

You couldn’t help but giggle quietly, and Logan felt the sound reverberate against him. “Mercy D,” you repeated. “You’re such a softie.”

“Watch it,” he warned, but there was no heat in it. His fingers absentmindedly traced patterns along your back through the flannel, and for a while, the room settled into silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of blankets and the steady rhythm of your breathing.

You broke the quiet first, your voice soft and muffled against his chest. “Why do you still do it?”

Logan blinked, looking down at you. “Do what?”

“Teach history.” You tilted your head slightly, “you don’t seem to like it much.”

He exhaled slowly, his hand stilling on your back. “Someone’s gotta do it. Better me than some idiot who doesn’t know the difference between Normandy and Napoleon.”

You smiled faintly at that. “Fair point.”

Logan’s voice softened as he continued. “Most of these kids—hell, they don’t know half of what happened before they were born. I figure if they’re gonna learn somethin’ about the past, it might as well be from someone who’s lived a lot of it.”

You looked up at him then, your gaze searching his face in the dim light. Logan didn’t look away, but there was something guarded in his expression, like he wasn’t sure why he’d admitted that much.

“You’re a good teacher,” you said softly, your fingers brushing against his chest.

Logan snorted. “Yeah. Tell that to the kid who thinks Napoleon was stormin’ the beaches at Normandy.”

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his chest before settling back down. “Well, I think you’re great.”

Logan didn’t respond right away, but his arm tightened slightly around you, pulling you closer as he pressed a kiss to your hair. “Get some sleep, darlin’,” he murmured. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

You smiled against his skin, letting his warmth lull you back to sleep. Logan stayed awake a little longer, though, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as his fingers traced absent patterns against your back again. He didn’t say it out loud, but moments like this—the quiet, the warmth of you beside him—were the reason he stuck around at all.

For someone who’d lived lifetimes, this was the only one that mattered.

---

As you were walking from your classroom to your office, Jean called out your name telepathically, “someone’s at the front door for you.”

You frowned and made your way over to where a man in casual clothing stood outside. “Hello?” You asked, Jean holding the door only halfway open.

“Are you Y/N Howlett?”

“Yes.” You responded, moving slightly closer to Jean for comfort.

The man held out an envelope, “you’ve been served.”

You stared at him, stomach dropping at the words. Slowly, you reached out and took the envelope, the weight of it far heavier than just paper. Your fingers barely curled around it before the man turned and walked away without another word, leaving you and Jean standing in the doorway.

Jean looked at you, her brows furrowed in concern. "Are you okay?" she asked softly, her voice carefully even.

You didn’t respond immediately, your eyes still on the envelope as if opening it might explode your entire life apart. "I..." You glanced at Jean, trying to ground yourself in her steady presence. "I don’t know."

“Come inside.” She placed a hand on your back and guided you gently through the door.

Once inside, she closed it behind you and walked you to one of the couches in the main hall. Her calm, methodical movements gave you enough time to focus. "Do you want me to stay while you open it?"

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Yeah. Please."

You tore open the envelope, unfolding the crisp papers inside. The legal jargon was an immediate headache, but the gist hit you quickly enough.

Your parents—parents you’d met just once at Stanford, a month ago—were contesting the will of your grandfather. You skimmed the words, anger brewing beneath the shock. The lawsuit wasn’t about you. It was about the inheritance your grandfather had left to you. Money you hadn’t touched—didn’t want to touch. Money your mother and father were determined to get their hands on.

“What is it?” she asked gently, leaning over a bit.

You sighed, lowering the papers slightly. “They’re suing me for the money my grandfather left. The same money they showed up to tell me about last time.” You shook your head, blinking furiously to keep your frustration and embarrassment in check. “I told them I didn’t want it. I never even filed anything to claim it.”

Jean frowned, her gaze hardening in sympathy as she processed what you said. “That’s awful, Y/N. I mean… that’s your family.”

“Not really.” You laughed bitterly, though the sound lacked humor.

Jean put her hand on your knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Hey, we’ll figure this out. Do you want to talk to someone about this? Scott can—"

"Logan," you cut in, almost reflexively.

Jean paused but nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Okay. Do you want me to get him, or—?”

"I’ll go." You stood abruptly, still clutching the papers. “Thanks, Jean. For… sticking with me through that.”

“Always.” Jean watched you head out before leaning back on the couch with a worried sigh.

---

Logan was in the garage, predictably half under his motorcycle. He was wiping his hands with an oil-streaked rag when he heard you approach. As he sat up, he took one look at your face and tossed the rag aside.

“What happened?” he asked immediately, his voice rough but threaded with concern.

You held up the papers wordlessly, struggling to hold his sharp gaze. He took them from your hands, skimming through quickly, his brow furrowing as he absorbed the contents.

“Christ,” he muttered after a long moment, his fist tightening slightly around the edges of the papers. “They’re suin’ you? For money that’s yours?”

“Money I didn’t even want,” you added, sitting heavily on the bench by the wall. Your hands tangled together in your lap, a nervous habit you couldn’t quite break.

He looked at you, anger darkening his expression, but it wasn’t directed at you. It never was. “They think you’re some kid they can push around,” he growled, folding the papers and setting them down before crouching in front of you. His large hands found yours, prying them apart gently. “But you’re not. You’re a hell of a lot stronger than they give you credit for, sweetheart.”

Your chest tightened at the way he spoke to you, so firm yet so gentle all at once. “I don’t want to deal with this,” you admitted, your voice small. “I don’t want the money, Logan. I never did.”

“You won’t have to.” His grip on your hands firmed, grounding you. “We’ll fight this. They ain’t takin’ a damn thing from you.”

You nodded slowly, letting his words soothe you, though doubt still nagged at the edges of your thoughts. “What if they win?”

Logan’s jaw flexed, his sharp features hardening with resolve. “They won’t.”

“Logan, I—”

“Hey,” he interrupted, his voice low but insistent. He pulled you forward slightly so that your knees brushed his shoulders. “Trust me, Y/N. This’ll get sorted. I ain’t lettin’ them screw you over, okay?”

You searched his eyes for any trace of uncertainty but found none. Logan, as always, was unwavering.

“Okay,” you said softly, exhaling as you leaned your forehead against his.

The moment stretched quietly before he broke it, pulling back just far enough to press a kiss to your temple. “C’mon. Let’s get this over to Chuck. He’ll know what to do.”

You hesitated, though his calm tone bolstered you. "You don’t think it’s… embarrassing?"

Logan leaned back on his heels slightly, cocking an eyebrow at you. “Embarrassing? Dealin’ with greedy parents? Not even close.” His smirk softened into something fonder. “You ain’t gotta hide stuff like this from me, darlin’. Or from the team. We’ve all got somethin’ messy in our pasts. Ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed of.”

His reassurance worked its way past your anxiety, easing the knot in your stomach a bit more. "Okay," you whispered again, squeezing his hands. “Let’s talk to Charles.”

Logan stood and pulled you with him, his arm immediately going around your shoulders as he guided you inside. Whatever fight lay ahead, you knew you weren’t facing it alone.

---

Logan leaned against the dresser, shaking his head. “No.”

You gave a mock pout, holding up the pastel blue sweater that matched your sundress. “C’mon, Logan. It’s just for today.”

Logan crossed his arms, leaning against the dresser with a look of pure defiance. “No way. Not wearin’ that.”

“It’s Easter,” you reasoned, trying not to laugh at the sheer stubbornness etched onto his face. “The kids are excited, and it’s a pastel color. You’ll look festive. Besides,” you added with a teasing tilt of your head, “it matches my dress.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Festive? Darlin’, I ain’t the ‘festive’ type.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” came Jean’s voice from the doorway. She leaned against the frame with a smirk, her arms crossed. “I think you’d look great in it, Logan. Adds some softness to your usual gruffness.”

Logan shot her a glare that only made her smirk widen. “Nobody asked you, Jeannie.”

You hid your smile behind the sweater, trying to keep the peace. “Jean, don’t make it worse,” you murmured, though your tone was light.

“I’m just saying,” Jean replied with a playful shrug before disappearing down the hallway, leaving you alone with Logan again.

“See? Even Jean agrees,” you said, holding the sweater out to him again. “Come on, Logan. Just for a little while?”

He huffed, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You’re not gonna let this go, are ya?”

You shook your head, your smile growing. “Nope.”

Logan stared at you for a long moment, his expression softening despite his obvious resistance. It wasn’t the sweater he was giving in to—it was you. With a grumble, he snatched it out of your hands. “Fine. But if anyone takes a picture, I’m burnin’ it.”

You bit back a laugh as he pulled the sweater on over his usual white undershirt. The pastel blue clashed hilariously with his rugged demeanor, but you had to admit, it looked... sweet on him. The way it matched your dress only made it better.

“There,” Logan said, tugging at the hem like it might suffocate him. “Happy?”

“Very,” you said with a warm smile, stepping closer to adjust the sweater’s collar. “You look good.”

He grumbled something under his breath but didn’t stop you. Instead, his hands found your waist, pulling you close enough that you had to crane your neck to look up at him. “You owe me for this,” he muttered, though there was no real bite to his tone.

“Oh, do I?” you teased, resting your hands on his chest. “What do I owe you?”

Logan leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’ll find out later,” he said, his voice low enough to send a shiver down your spine.

Your cheeks flushed, but you managed to keep your composure. “Well, let’s see if you make it through the egg hunt first.”

He groaned, pulling back enough to look at you. “Wait. Do I gotta do that, too?”

“Yes,” you said firmly, laughing when his head fell back in exaggerated defeat. “The kids will love it. And you look adorable.”

Logan shot you a flat look. “Adorable?”

You grinned, standing on your tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Yup. Now come on, let’s go before Rogue eats all the candy.”

Logan shook his head, muttering something about how he’d never live this down, but the small smile tugging at his lips told you he didn’t really mind. Not as long as it was for you.

---

You and Logan sat across from the lawyer Charles had recommended. The room was quiet, save for the faint rustle of papers as the lawyer flipped through the documents. Logan leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed, a scowl set deep on his face. You sat with your hands folded tightly in your lap, your glasses slipping slightly down your nose as you watched the lawyer with a mixture of apprehension and exhaustion.

“Well,” the lawyer finally said, setting the papers down on the desk in front of him. He adjusted his own glasses, his expression professional but sympathetic. “The good news is that the will is clear. Your grandfather left the inheritance to you and only you. Your parents’ claim has very little legal ground.”

Your shoulders sagged slightly, but the tension in your chest didn’t fully ease. “But they can still drag this out, can’t they?” you asked quietly. “Even if the claim isn’t strong?”

The lawyer nodded. “Yes, they can file motions, request hearings, and essentially make this as difficult as possible for you. It’s not uncommon in cases like this.”

Logan growled low in his throat, his impatience bubbling to the surface. “So what do we do to shut this down for good?”

The lawyer glanced at him, unfazed by Logan’s tone. “There are a few options. You can contest the claim in court, which could take time but would likely result in a ruling in your favor. Or,” he paused, looking at you, “you can choose to forfeit the inheritance entirely. That would require specific legal filings, but it would end the dispute.”

You blinked, the weight of the decision settling heavily on your shoulders. “I don’t want the money,” you said quickly, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “I never wanted it. I didn’t even know about it until my parents showed up at Stanford.”

Logan’s hand slid over yours, grounding you. “You don’t have to decide now,” he said, his voice softer than before.

The lawyer cleared his throat, his expression cautious. “There is one other matter to consider. If you choose to forfeit the inheritance, it wouldn’t simply revert to your parents. According to the terms of the will, the funds would be held in trust for any future heirs—your children, specifically.”

Your head snapped up, and you stared at the lawyer in disbelief. “Future children?”

He nodded. “Yes. It’s an unusual clause, but your grandfather was quite specific. If you don’t claim the inheritance, it remains part of the family estate and will be managed until it can be passed down to your descendants.”

Logan’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, and you glanced at him, your cheeks warming at the faint surprise in his expression. You hadn’t explicitly talked about children with him yet, though the thought had crossed your mind more than once.

“That’s… a lot to process,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “I didn’t even know he thought about me that way. We weren’t close at the… end.”

The lawyer offered a small, understanding smile. “It’s not uncommon for people to make decisions like this in their wills, even if they weren’t directly involved in someone’s life. He may have wanted to ensure you were cared for in some way.”

You nodded slowly, your thoughts swirling. Logan leaned forward, his gruff voice breaking the silence. “Let’s say she forfeits. What’s to stop her parents from tryin’ to get their hands on the money anyway?”

“There are legal safeguards in place,” the lawyer replied. “The trust would be managed independently, and your parents wouldn’t have access to it. It’s airtight.”

Logan grunted, seemingly satisfied with that answer, but his focus shifted back to you. “What do you wanna do, sweetheart?”

You hesitated, your gaze dropping to where his hand still covered yours. “I don’t want to go to court,” you said softly. “I don’t want the money, and I don’t want to fight with them. If it can go to… someone else, to the future, then maybe that’s the right thing to do.”

Logan’s thumb brushed over your knuckles, his voice steady. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

The lawyer nodded. “I’ll start drafting the necessary documents. It’ll take a little time, but once it’s filed, your parents won’t have a legal leg to stand on.”

“Thank you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

As the meeting wrapped up and the lawyer left the room, Logan turned to you, his expression softening. “You okay?”

You nodded, though your chest still felt heavy. “Yeah. It’s just… a lot.”

He pulled you into his arms without hesitation, holding you close against his chest. “You did good, darlin’,” he murmured against your hair. “Don’t let this mess get to you.”

You closed your eyes, letting the warmth of his embrace chase away the lingering tension. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his shirt.

“For what?” he asked, pulling back just enough to look down at you.

“For being here,” you said, your gaze meeting his. “For always being here.”

Logan’s lips quirked into a small, crooked smile. “Where else would I be?”

You laughed softly, the sound shaky but genuine, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead before leading you out of the room.

As the two of you walked into the kitchen, Logan pulled out a bottle of mango juice from the fridge and poured you a glass. His movements were calm and deliberate, a quiet reassurance that everything was going to be okay. He set the glass down in front of you, leaning against the counter as you took a sip.

"You doin' alright now, sweetheart?" he asked, his gaze steady on you.

You nodded, holding the cool glass in your hands. “I think so. I just hate that it had to come to this.”

Logan reached over, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Ain’t your fault. They made their choice, and you made yours. That’s all that matters.”

You managed a small smile, his support giving you the courage to push forward. But the lawyer’s earlier words lingered in your mind, and after a moment of hesitation, you decided to voice the thought that had been nagging at you.

“Logan,” you said, your voice soft, “did it… bother you? What he said about the inheritance going to future kids?”

Logan arched a brow, folding his arms across his chest as he watched you. “Bother me?” he repeated, his tone questioning.

“Yeah.” You looked down at the mango juice in your hands. “We’ve never really talked about that, and I just—”

His hand was under your chin before you could finish, tilting your face up to meet his eyes. “Does it bother you?” he asked, his tone gentle but intent.

You bit your lip, feeling your cheeks warm. “I don’t think so,” you admitted. “I mean, I’ve thought about it before, but I didn’t want to push. I wasn’t sure if that was something you…” You trailed off, unsure how to phrase it.

Logan’s lips curved into a small smirk, his gaze softening in a way that was meant just for you. “Darlin’, I’ve thought about it plenty. Didn’t bring it up ‘cause I didn’t know if you were ready for that kinda talk.”

A soft laugh escaped you, nervous but sweet. “Guess we’re both good at overthinking things.”

Logan’s hand slid around your waist, pulling you closer until your hips bumped against the counter. “I’m not the kind to plan much of anything,” he said, his voice dropping to that rough, affectionate tone that always made your heart flutter. “But you… you make me wanna think about things like that.”

Your chest tightened with a mixture of nervousness and joy as you briefly rolled your bottom lip between your teeth. Logan’s other hand brushed against your cheek, his thumb sliding lightly across your skin, grounding you in a way only he could.

“Darlin’,” he said softly, his voice low and filled with warmth, “you don’t gotta look so nervous. We’re on the same page.”

You let out a soft, shaky laugh. “I know. It’s just... I didn’t think this conversation would come up like this.”

“Didn’t exactly expect it over lawyer talk,” Logan admitted with a small smirk. His hand cupped your cheek, pulling you just a bit closer. “But you think too much sometimes. There’s no rush, no pressure—none of that. But if you’re askin’ if I see it... yeah. I see it, sweetheart.”

Your gaze flicked up to his, caught in the sincerity of his words and the steady way he was looking at you. His eyes, weathered from lifetimes of heartbreak and battle, were now soft and filled with something you could only describe as hope.

You smiled, this time more genuine, a warmth spreading through you. “Me too,” you murmured.

His lips quirked into that crooked grin you’d come to love, and his hand slid to the back of your neck, tugging you forward until your lips met. The kiss was slow and unhurried, a promise sealed in silence. When he pulled back, he kept you close, his forehead pressed against yours.

“No better time to start than now,” he rumbled, the faintest hint of a playful edge slipping into his tone.

Your breath caught, your cheeks instantly flushing. “Logan,” you whispered, voice laced with equal parts shock and anticipation.

He chuckled, that deep, throaty sound sending shivers down your spine. In a swift, effortless move, he lifted you off the ground, one arm supporting your back while the other braced under your knees. You gasped, your hands instinctively wrapping around his neck.

“Logan!” you squeaked, your heart racing as he carried you like you weighed nothing.

“What?” he teased, his smirk widening as he began walking out of the kitchen. “Thought we were on the same page.”

You buried your face against his neck, laughing softly. “We are,” you admitted, your voice muffled against his skin. “You just caught me off guard.”

“I’m full of surprises,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple.

As the two of you reached the bedroom, the door creaked as Logan kicked it open, a certain ease in his movements that you envied sometimes. He set you down gently on the bed, leaning over you with a wolfish grin that made your heart do a somersault.

“You sure?” he asked, his voice suddenly softer again, no teasing this time. His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing the edge of your glasses like it was instinctive for him to touch you this way.

The love in his voice and the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing anchoring him to this world—stole whatever doubt you might have had. You nodded, your hand curling around his wrist to keep his touch against your skin.

“Yeah,” you whispered, smiling. “I’m sure.”

Logan kissed you again, deeper this time, his arms wrapping around you like he never wanted to let go. And for that moment, nothing else in the world mattered.

this is still 2005! next chapter is also going to be 2005 and then after every chapter will be spanning 1 year!

(although i am now realizing that my timeline is a bit off but just roll with it)

[amalthiaph]

I took an interest in The Bad Batch around the tailend of S2. It's not news to Tumblr that I almost slept on this show. And I cannot thank Caleb Dume enough for being the reason why I pressed the play button for this one. While I haven't been around for most of its active run, and I wish I had been, the last year has been among the best months of my life.

This show challenged my morals, and taught me lessons that I will forever take with me.

Tech taught me to embrace and take pride in who I am. I now think that I am not something that needs to be cured. I needed to be understood and accepted. He taught me that we deserved to be loved and be allowed to live the way we want to (as long as we are not causing harm to ourselves or to others).

Hunter taught me that at the end of the day, we're all still humans. We make mistakes. We fail. But we can learn from them, and we can strive to be better. And I should also take care of my hair bec I cannot accept that a man in a galactic war have better hair than me (Okay, did you honestly think I'm gonna be serious this entire essay?)

Crosshair taught me that at the end of the day, we really are still humans. Sometimes, we make choices that not everyone will understand or agree to. Sometimes, we don't even understand our own choices. But we can learn from them, and we can strive to be better. And that I should also go to therapy bec istg my hand shakes like hell I always need to rely on a pen stabilizer when doing my artworks.

Wrecker taught me that in this world where we can be anything, always choose to be kind. He is a great man who would always be there for everyone, and I hope that one day, I can be that person too. He is afraid of heights, but he climbs and go on high places anyway. Like him, I should also start conquering my fears. Dear Wrecker, I did try conquering my fear of heights last March 9 but I can't. I will try again.

Echo taught me to always fight for the greater good. Almost two years ago, me and a group of people campaigned for a great tomorrow. With pink flags and pink balloons, we worked on our little thing I like to call our rebellion. Sadly, we lost. At times, I am thinking of just giving up bec that's democracy and I cannot go against the people's decision, but characters like Echo and the rest of Rogue One taught me that nothing should ever stop me for fighting for the people's rights and that my love for my fellow citizens should always come first before hatred.

And lastly, Omega taught me to be curious, or more likely to not be ashamed for being curious. Learn about the world. Learn about lots of things. We never know when we need it. While I could say be good at strategy and win 30 grand on card games, nahhh, I'm not that smart.

I also learned to reevalutate myself as an artist. This show taught me integrity. I had ranted about this lately but these characters challenged me in terms of art. I knew that the creators aren't best at proper representation. While I could draw them as they are in the show, I choose to stand for what is right, and represent them as properly as my skills could. In the more technical side, I became good at drawing armors. And this little Actors AU Draw Series taught me to be responsible; I tried my very best to create and post them on time. This increased my productivity.

But enough about me.

There's something I realized two nights ago; we, the fandom, are Bad Batchers ourselves. We can consider ourselves a family, but not one of us is the same and we're all interesting, and capable in our own unique ways. We can have our own opinion and stand about something and still coexist. Like our favorite charactera, we embrace and celebrate our differences.

This show may end. No more Bad Batch Eves, no more cryptic tweets that cause us to hyperventilate, no more Bad Batch Wednesdays but it will live on, through us.

I know there will be a day where we decrease in number, one by one, little by little, but still, the show will live on through our actions, our opinions, our choices we make after May 1, 2024 because I know that all of us were changed in some ways by these characters and this show.

To the crew, your cryptic tweets caused me sleepless nights, but thank you so, so much. It is through your hardwork that we had this wonderful show. Thank you for making every second of the past year so worthwhile and enjoyable for me and for everyone.

However this show will end, whether happy or sad, I am glad it happened. However short my time was with them, I am happy I had been here. However short my time with everyone in the fandom was or if some of you leave one day, still, thank you so much for being part of my life; I am so happy I met all of you.

To Clone Force 99, thank you. I've never loved anything like this before. May the Force be with you.

[kristetch21]

Due to me feeling under the weather, I decided to make headcanons imo, on how the rogues handle being sick.

🎩Hatter

Drinks tea and adds herbs to help get better

Blanket piles, yes piles

Has a favorite hat and tie for when he's sick

Has "gone" to wonderland and saw new residents while having fevers

🎃Scarecrow🐦‍⬛

Shout out to @voiceboss I love your Crane's view on Frontier medicine and miss ikky so..

Uses hot toddies(whisky) to get better and reads a lot

Has layers on he gets bone aches from the cold

Tries to work, however ikky pesters him to rest

Imo the man runs on gremlin energy and spite, so definitely forgot to eat but has 3 coffees

Is more grouchy if that's possible

Has tried ft to take his mind off being sick

Uses a crusty handkerchief

🪷ivy

Finds a secluded place and let's nature aid her

Usually never sick but does recover from injuries

Takes things slow and visits Harley

Tends to her gardens around Gotham

🐧penguin

Sleeps in luxury

Has maids and private Drs aid him

Works from home for the first few days, back at the lounge by night 3

Like crow, uses brandy and a cigar to feel better

Secretly craves junk food when sick

🐱Catwoman

Has hot chocolate and watches tv

Cuddles with her 3 cat and orders food

Plans next heist but falls asleep with her pen drawing randomly on the page

Has favorite sweatpants and sweater for the occasion

Sometimes accepts Bruce taking care of her and her fur babies

🦄Harley

Comfy clothes for days, fuzzy socks and leggings that are lined

Movies and games

Can't sit still for long, gets antsy

Will cuddle her mista j and bud and lou

Wants pancakes and pretty water(bubbly with edible glitter)

Hates the taste of medicine so she pinches her nose to hide the taste

❄freeze

Doesn't get sick but does have stomach aches sometimes

That being said he will sip jagermister and jot down some notes

When he's tired he sets up a chair near Nora and catches some sleep

Has caught himself talking to Nora as if she's there to answer, he remembers how she used to fuss over him

🐊croc

Stays in a closed off area and self medicates with stolen cold syrup

Tries to rest but usually can't sleep from the meds keeping him wired

Gets better though by the end of 4 days

🃏joker

Doesn't get sick

Has injuries or tummy pains(poor diet)

Has Harley play doctor

Refused to rest so it takes time to heal

Gets hyper and weird the less sleep he gets

His motto is walk or run it off

🥊bane

Has tea and protein to repair his body

Rests for a day before he gets back to work

By rest, he travels to the next location and sleeps maybe 4 hours

Ice baths and gym

🧩Riddler

Gets more annoying to his fellow rogues

Lives off soup, complaining about bats and drinks loads of water (Q/E won't let him have caffeine)

Works on his phone or sleeps with puzzle book in hand

Has trouble shutting his mind up enough to fully rest

By day 3 he has annoyed crane so much that he might get "cured" by ft

Has live streamed while sick to troll people (it lifts his spirits)

[daisyofwaterdeep]

I just finished my resist durge routeeeee I'm so tempted to start on my next run, Gale origin) but it's 3:42 in the morning and i just hit my bedtime weed pen and i'm so sleepy

You know I just realized while typing this that I've never talked about my tavs and playthroughs on here? Guess it's time to whip out the readmore bc now I wanna talk about my babies

1. My first playthrough, my tav was Daisy, a sorcerer tiefling. The og girl who fell in love with gale immediately but due to a series of accidents, bad choices, and misreading things (it's a....very messy and long story lol) married astarion. (If ur interested in the long messy story let me know and I'll share that too lol) I spent about 170 hours my first run

Nevermind I'm too tired to continue this post it's suddenly 4:21 in the morning bc I keep getting distracted while typing so I might delete this when I get up or I might go ahead and finish it, we'll see how it goes

BACK AT IT AGAIN AT THE TUMBLR POST I decided to go ahead and finish it bc why not lmao

2. Madame Snarcus, my gnome barbarian. She's the ex wife of Barcus and married to Gale. My brother played this profile with me, his name was Dark'ness Nightmoon and he was a goth half orc monk married to Wyll

3. Daisy, my embrace durge. She was a tiefling rogue married to ascended Astarion

4. Sunnie, my druid who turned illithid to pursue a life with the emperor <3 (I don't have a pic of her before she turned, sobs)

5. Kreeminel, my bard. His run was solely to give Raphael the crown

6. Sm'ore, my githyanki wizard. This was my first attempt at an honor run, but unfortunately some bad decisions killed him in the blighted village.. rest in peace, Sm'ore :( you can also see my brothers character, The Jonkler lol

7. Propio, fighter. I just wanted to make a sexy dracula-esque treat for Wyll LOL

8. Resist Dark Urge, sorcerer dragonborn. I wanted to keep him default, but gave a pink sheen to his scales and some pink eyeshadow. I only have a projection pic of him bc he romanced Lae'zel

9. Gespepper, my half orc barbarian. I'm just there as a support character, bc its my other brothers game. I only hop in when I go over to his house or spend the night. I don't have a pic of her, but I have a pic of my brothers Tav, Gestalt!

10. Gale origin. I went ahead and started it lol, im only about 2 hours in and haven't decided who I'm romancing yet...I'm just gonna play it by ear

[penultimatefan02]

A Penultimate Pen Theory.

Recently, @pentition posted a very insightful and thoughtful analysis regarding Pen’s potential future as a core romance candidate in an upcoming game. This gave me food for thought about Pen's future direction and how his past relationship with the Sandrock builder could come into play, or whether he should find love with a playable character in an upcoming game.

When I think about Pen’s future, I’m limited by the few crumbs Pathea has offered us to theorize about his history and motivations. It’s not much but there are tidbits that I’ve clung to that put me in the camp of “team Pen.” There are also a few Discord posts by zede05 that I’ve added to the tiny pile of details.

Some history to note is that players who participated in the MTAS early access may have a different opinion of Pen than late-comers due to Pen’s romance being a Kickstarter goal and not originally developed. Also, his character art was greatly improved after he was introduced (I’m basing this on Discord comments as I did not participate or see prior iterations of Pen). These details may put EA players in the “Pen’s romance and physical characteristics were an afterthought” camp, which is valid.

Regardless of the romance aspect, it was Pen’s story that was greatly developed. He was such a BIG character for 2/3 of MTAS. No one makes a character that big with that many parallels, hints, and ambiguities unless they plan to utilize them in the future. Pen may become a big deal, and his arc may likely have a strong emotional impact on the player.

The one thing we know is that Pathea can and may change their mind about storylines and character development based on player response. Many discussions regarding Pen’s future romance potential are read and possibly considered in how they will approach his story arc and resolution. The more we talk about it on Reddit and Discord, the more chance we have of helping to shape Pen’s outcome. Based on zede05’s comments, nothing is set in stone.

Now, with that said, I think the original direction they may have decided on, and why Pen was not a marriage candidate is because he’s going to take the true role of the anti-hero, and his ending will be his end. Please forgive me for typing it out, it’s not meant as a jinx, and I truly don’t want it to happen. However, I do think there is a strong possibility that the writers may decide or have already decided that this resolution needs to happen to counterbalance his actions in MTAS (and in future game(s) if he continues the villain path a while longer).

I’ve been wrong many times before, but I see Pen as being the main hero of the series at a great cost to himself. Aadit gets to go home, but Pen doesn’t. Pen may even be the one to save Aadit so he can return home to Portia’s builder.

Pathea doesn’t think players will be disappointed by “how” Pen ends up, not “where” Pen ends up. Granted, there are translations involved and they didn’t know whether Aadit would be the Rogue Knight or not by Portia’s end, so it’s all speculation. However, if Pen sacrifices himself for the greater good near the series end, zede05 would be right that we wouldn’t be disappointed. If anything, we would all be greatly moved by it and the emotional impact and payoff would be huge. Pen ends his story as a true hero.

I’m not sure how many games they plan for the series, but I’ll play the odds that Pen will be recurring until the end. I believe someone at Pathea mentioned using Marvel’s film series as a guideline for its continuing characters (in reference to Aadit and Pen).

To bring the discussion back to romance, I think Sandrock’s builder was the first time Pen ever felt something akin to affection or love. At the end of the Paradise Lost quest, we know he’s quite familiar with sex, but then sex doesn’t require emotions. He was unsure of what friendship was, and he didn’t understand the feelings he was left with after his dates with the builder. Pen only knew he liked it and wanted to spend more time with them. He comes off as very emotionally stunted, which aligns with his more narcissistic traits.

One comment that stood out to me was in response to a question about Pen becoming romanceable again in the future, zede05 replied, “But Pen only loves himself and his form of justice. Haha.” So, if anything, Pen must grow and learn to have concern for others not just himself. I think the builder’s relationship with him in Sandrock set that into motion, but we won’t know the impact until he’s reintroduced later on. While I wouldn’t be surprised if Sandrock’s builder has a role in his future, I believe at the very least they helped build the foundation for his potential redemption arc.

I don’t think Pathea will let him be romanced again until something happens to counterbalance his past crimes. So, if he does do the big thing to save the day and lives, then maybe the next game could see him become a marriage candidate. Although, I really like @pentition's idea of Pen heading off to find the builder or having them ride off into the sunset, preferably on Merle’s back. I’m a big fan of full-circle storylines, so Pen dating a new character comes off to me as slicing the pie in half and chucking it in the bin.

Regardless of what is to happen in the My Time series, we know that Pen will probably play a big role in it. I do hope that whatever road Pathea has laid out for him will ultimately lead to his redemption and that we are all left feeling proud of him and satisfied with his story.

Gosh, this was hard to write. @pentition, thank you for sharing your thoughts, which in turn gave me a bit of courage to share mine. I hope I'm not a total Debbie Downer on this topic.

[itamis-multi-muses]

Fallen for a Common Villager

Shisui Uchiha: Falling for someone who isn’t a Ninja isn’t a big deal for Shisui Uchiha. Sure, the Clan would rather he date a person who isn’t ‘weak’ or ‘fragile’, but, it’s really not up to them at the end of the day. The only thing that matters to Shisui is you. The way you watch him train for hours on end nearly every single day, the way you cook him a delicious meal when he returns home from a mission and the way you run your fingers through his hair to help him fall asleep.

He would be super protective of you, too. (I think all of the Uchiha men would be super protective of their wives tbh) Making sure that you hold his hand when you cross the road together, immediately jumps in to help you if something goes wrong in the kitchen (that Body Flicker Technique is hella useful) and when you’re reaching for your dropped cutlery on the floor, he will place his hand on the edge of the table where your head is so that you don’t hit it on the way back up.

Speaking of being protective, he will definitely keep you sheltered from his job as a Ninja as much as he can. He absolutely loves watching your eyes sparkle when he shows you a new jutsu or technique that he’s learned, but he will hardly ever talk about his missions. Someone as precious as you does NOT need to know about any blood he himself or his teammates had spilled whilst they were gone, and don’t even get him started on enemies infiltrating the Leaf Village. When he’s called into action, he’ll tell you that he needs to help protect the Village and the people in it, but that he loves you so much and needs you to stay as far away from the fighting as you can. Then, he will pick you up bridal style and teleport the two of you out of harms way. Before he leaves, he will place a tender kiss to your forehead and snake his arms around you in a quick embrace, letting you know that you are his top priority. And you always will be.

Itachi Uchiha: Itachi never intended to fall in love, period, especially not with a woman who wasn’t a Ninja. After that fateful night of the Uchiha Clan slaughter and joining the Rogue Ninja group, the Akatsuki, he had plenty of time to contemplate every single choice he had made in his life. He played them constantly, on repeat, every single night. Furthermore, he had come to the conclusion that, 1) In order for his plan to come to fruition, he needed to die at the hands of his little brother, and 2) He was irrevocably in love with you.

How could this have happened? He had worked so damn hard for the sake of the Leaf Village, never once thinking about selfish things such as love and romance. But now… It’s all he could think about. Did you know what he had done? Do you believe that he was a monster? If both answers were yes, could you ever possibly return his feelings? All of these rhetorical questions were irritating him to the brink of insanity. He knew what he had to do.

He snuck out of the Akatsuki hideout when Pein and Konan were away and made the strenuous journey to the village hidden in the leaves. There, he discovered you in your apartment, reading a light novel in your living room. He took a deep breath, hesitated, but politely knocked on your front door. You were shocked to see who your midnight visitor was, but you trusted him just enough to step outside and allow him to speak. He was one of your childhood friends, after all. Once Itachi had confessed his feelings and explained his situation to you, you were gobsmacked. Understatement of the year. After taking a few seconds to breathe and fully understand Itachi’s words, you smiled and took his hand in yours. In that moment, Itachi’s mental load subsided and he stayed with you until you fell asleep. Before he left back to the Akatsuki hideout, he found a pen and paper in your kitchen and wrote a note for you, placing it directly on top of the novel you were reading previously. ‘Sweet dreams, my dear. I will be back before you know it. - Itachi’.

Sasuke Uchiha: If there is one of the Uchiha boys who never believed in love, it’s this guy. He had one goal in life and one goal only: Become stronger so that he can kill a certain someone. He believed that nothing could detour him from his path of revenge… Until he witnessed you in an argument with one of your family members. You had stormed out of the house in a fit of rage and angrily kicked your trash can over, the contents spilling onto the freshly trimmed lawn. You groaned in frustration and tears sparkled in your eyes thanks to the full moon. He watched you for a few moments, trying to talk himself out of his out-of-the-blue curiosity towards you.

Unfortunately, it could not be done. He stepped out of the shadows and looked pitifully down at you as you sobbed into your hands. He caught your attention with a cough and told you to stop crying. That there are worse things in this world to cry about. To his surprise, your sadness became anger once more and you stood to confront him. You told him exactly where he could shove his opinion and where he could go. He merely smirked, mildly entertained by your little outburst. This angered you even more and you raised your hand to slap him, unaware of who or what he actually was. He gripped your wrist and locked eyes with you, his midnight orbs made you audibly gasp. Sasuke tilted his head slightly to the side and his infamous smirk reappeared. Maybe he should take a different approach with this pretty one, just this once? The young Uchiha sighed and dropped your arm back to your side and introduced himself. Your tears dried and the conversation continued… It felt as if you had known this young man your whole life. Although his aura was spine-chilling, there was something in his eyes that attracted him to you. Ashamedly, Sasuke could say the same thing.

Eventually, Sasuke insisted that he should go, but neither of you wanted that to happen. You asked him whether you would ever see him again, and Sasuke’s breath hitched in his throat. The realisation that he actually wanted to see you again caught him by surprise. He could only nod and look away from you, not wanting you to catch him off-guard and lose his cool (he has his reputation to uphold, duh). After that night, Sasuke made it a side-mission to visit the Leaf Village more often than he would have liked to take moonlit strolls with you through the empty streets and talk about anything and everything that came to mind. It was usually you doing all the talking and the Uchiha would listen intently and hum when appropriate. It’s safe to say that Sasuke Uchiha was becoming more open to the idea of love thanks to you.

{ Hi there, dear reader! It’s your girl back with another post about these insanely handsome Uchiha boys~ I really hope you enjoyed it because I put a lot of thought and love into this one! Well, that’s all for now. Thank you for reading! }

- Itami 🌸

[omgshiftercat]

BG3 Blogging: Packrats and Picklocks

I was reading about what happens when there are large-scale disasters. Obviously, people tend to flee, but they can't bring all their stuff. So… they often bury it, in the hopes that later they'll be able to return and claim it.

Often they can't do that, though -- either they can't return, or they lose track of where they buried it.

In real life, these are valuable finds for archeologists and anthropologists, and were occasionally a lucky find for some peasant.

In BG3, this explains all the buried chests. Faerûn has had a lot of disasters.

Discussing the "buried treasure" thing with my dad, and he mentioned that in many places there were laws saying that the king (or sometimes just the landlord) got first crack at any treasure buried on their land. Adventurers would just shrug at that, obvs.

It was difficult, first time around, determining what items were useful and what weren't. I ended up doing this:

This time I didn't grab the "minds" from the nautiloid... only to find out, quite a bit later, where you can use them.

There's a gold cost to learning a spell from a scroll, but not for casting. And while you need food for each long rest, there is tons of food just lying around. (Just as well, considering how, especially at the beginning, it's good to spam long rests.) So it's not like there's no resource management at all, but it doesn't feel stressful.

Picking up food items is worth it just to read the (heh) flavour text. Especially the commentary on the quality of the wines.

I got very spoiled by playing the rogue in my first campaign, sneaking around everywhere and picking all the locks. And I didn't even have the Gloves of Thievery that time! They give Advantage on Sleight of Hand rolls. But also, the game was occasionally bugged so that even if I'd just picked up the key, doors would still be like, "❌Locked". So I was like, "Screw it, back to the trusty lockpicks."

Now it's more like this:

I suppose if I'd started out playing Gale, it might have been more like this:

I haven't had her try pickpocketing anyone (I'd leave that for the actual rogue), but "Yoink!" and "ooOOooh" are things that Karlach says when looting crates and whatnot. Trinket would approve.

Explanation: a while ago we played a campaign in which all the characters were awakened animals of one sort or another. Trinket was a raven who had been the familiar for a university professor wizard (who accidentally blew himself up in a lab experiment). She saw university kids saying things like, "Yoink! Your pen's mine now," and concluded that you were allowed to take anything as long as you said, "Yoink!"

[midorisudachi]

“Living a lie…it festers inside you, like poison. You have to fight for what’s in your heart.” – Dorian Pavus

I recently beat Dragon Age Inquisition for the third time! I love that game immensely: everything about it is wonderful. I chose a male Inquisitor - as a rogue - because I wanted to romance Dorian. The first time I played DAI, it was the female elf Lavellen – whom I named Zephyra – and she was a mage, and the romance with Solas was a bloody disaster & heartbreaking. (Damn you, Solas!) The second time I played as the human female Trevelyan – named Bryony (who you have seen me do two fanarts of) – a warrior, and romanced Cullen. (Cullen is so hot for a video game character…where can I find a man like that? Lol.) I hope you like this artwork!

Also: Happy Pride Month! 🌈 It’s actually a perfect time to submit this artwork. This was a lot of fun to create (a full colour piece). If you haven’t played the Dragon Age games, it is actually very LGBTQ friendly. You can make your characters gay, lesbian, or bisexual. There is even a transgender male in DAI, named Krem, who is a cool character. Bioware is open-minded, that’s for sure, so the DA series is for everybody. And omg, let me tell you that the conversations & bantering between the characters is hilarious!

⚠️Warning: Spoilers Ahead!⚠️

Dorian is quite the character…a sarcastic & witty lad. He is complex at first, especially regarding his history (how his father tried to “erase” who he truly was, when it came to his homosexuality). It was fun romancing him with Cedric (Trevelyan), who I made a rouge/assassin. So off course I had to draw my OC [male] Cedric Trevelyan with Dorian! Cedric is Dorian’s “Amatus”. I made them wear simpler outfits when I drew them, because near the end of the game, they were wearing complex armour. That stuff is hard to draw! I chose to draw Lilies by Cedric & Dorian, because if you romance Dorian, his tarot card shows him holding what looks like a Lily.

The two of them had this conversation near the end of the Trespasser DLC:

Cedric: “Whatever happens, I wouldn’t trade the years we’ve had together for anything. I love you.”

Dorian: “I knew you would break my heart, you bloody bastard.”

Lol! Awww, jeez, Dorian, just say you love my Inquisitor, too. I honestly really think that Dorian loved him, as stubborn as he was to admit it. At first I was annoyed when Dorian chose to go back to Trevinter, and I thought, “Darn you, don’t you dare pull a Solas on my Inquisitor, after all you've gone through with him!” However, after the game ends, it tells you what happens to the characters (depending on your choices). For me, the game said that Dorian’s “greatest strength lay in the lover he left in the south, but still conversed with via message crystal”, and “some claimed to have seen the Inquisitor on the streets on Minrathos on rare occasions, sneaking into the heart of Trevinter to aid his Amatus.” It made me happy to know that the Inquisitor and Dorian stayed together. I wonder if that will show up with the 4th game.

⚠️Spoilers Over!⚠️

Speaking of the 4th game, who is excited to Dragon Age: The Veilguard, to be released later this year? I watched the gameplay trailer and I am excited for it! I hope characters from DAI will be in it (so far, Varric & Solas have been shown).

Drawn with sepia Sakura Pigma Micron pens, then coloured in with a mixture of Copic Markers, Ohuhu Markers, & Zenacolor coloured pencils. White accents done with a Sakura gel pen & the gold accents were done with Golden brand acrylic paint.

Dragon Age Inquisition/Dorian Pavus/Inquisitor Trevelyan © Bioware & Electronic Arts

Artwork © of me, Jacqueline E. McNeese

[whereianonymouslypostfics]

Troublemaker

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~1k

Summary: Your dogs get some herding practice in. 

A/N: Did someone ask for more dog adventures? @rianncreates. 

Warnings: Fluff, very little angst, and sleepy parents.

It was hard being a parent. Not to say that you and Wanda didn’t enjoy it because you really did. You loved your daughter who brought you so much joy, but taking care of her was a full-time job and then some. Not to mention, you had three animals to take care of as well, and one of them didn’t quite understand why you weren’t so willing to jump out of bed and feed her at 4am. Not that you’d ever truly been willing to do it.

So despite how grateful you were for your daughter and how infectious her smile was, you were tired. You were resting on the couch now while Wanda ran to the store to get something, and you were watching Natalya as she went between napping and playing in her pen.

Her uncle had bought it for her and he and Yelena had argued about how to put it together for nearly an hour. The instructions were very thorough and Pietro had very little patience for them. The pen was built and it contained his niece so he called it a day. Yelena was a little more skeptical, but watching Natalya happily bounce around for a while tamped down her desire to argue further.

You hadn’t meant to fall asleep, really, but you’d made the mistake of telling yourself that you’d just close your eyes for a bit, and then you were out like a light. Nat of course was waking up and wanting to crawl around. She was bored of her toys and she looked around for a way out of her colorful pen. Boone was upstairs on the second floor sleeping in the hall while Fletcher was in her favorite spot on the third floor. Rogue was sitting splayed out behind the couch as he waited near the door for Wanda to return. He was still a little upset that she hadn’t taken him with her, but she promised to be back soon, so he was going to wait patiently. Nothing would distract him.

The sound of plastic snapping made his ears twitch, but he doesn’t pay it much mind as he yawns cavernously. He’s been sleeping less so he barely hears Natalya escape from her colorful prison and start crawling around. It’s not until he feels something touch his tail that he decides to sit up and investigate. Rogue turns around and sees Natalya smacking his tail back and forth with a gleeful smile. He grumbles before standing up and looking around for you, but you don’t notice as you continue to snore.

Rogue huffs in annoyance before turning back to see that Natalya’s lost interest and is heading for the stairs. He hurries to follow her as she tries to climb them for maybe the third time this week. She must like it up there because she makes it up the first step clumsily before Rogue tries to stop her. She’s determined though and grabs the second step and tries to pull herself up, but she isn’t very successful. Rogue mouths at her shirt and tries to pull her away but she just continues to squeal happily as she makes her loud escape. Rogue almost looks back to you to try and alert you, but he hears Boone at the top of the stairs coming to investigate.

The other shepherd grumbles in annoyance at being woken up, but he hopes its you so he can go outside. When he starts down the stairs and sees a little human and his brother on the stairs he sighs in defeat. This has happened once before. You and Wanda had been so freaked out when you couldn’t find your daughter after you came home from a much-needed date night. Pietro had fallen asleep with Natalya and the dogs all in the living room, and when they came home it was just him. Wanda had nearly throttled him while you ran up the stairs to try and find your 6-month-old. You’re unprepared to find her lying in her bed with both dogs curled up next to her. You sigh in relief before trying to figure out if you’re more pissed off at Pietro or proud of your dogs for taking care of their little sister.

Pietro was no longer allowed to babysit alone, at least for a while, and you’d be lucky if you were allowed to as well after this. You sleep through the entire ordeal on the stairs, so you completely miss Boone come down to try and help out his brother. The clothes Natalya’s wearing doesn’t make it easy, and they’ve slobbered all over her before they manage to grab her and take her back to her pen. Once they see that it’s not going to be an easy task Rogue just jumps up on you to wake you up. You do with a startled gasp and you look around quickly to make sure you didn’t miss anything.

You immediately see Rogue at your feet, frowning if that’s possible, while Boone holds onto Little Nat’s shirt as she tries to escape again. You sit up quickly and reach out to grab your daughter right as the garage door opens and you curse under your breath before reaching out to pet the shepherds.

“Such good boys. Thank you!”

Rogue just heads for the door to greet Wanda while Boone jumps up on the couch beside you and gets even more slobber on Little Nat. She’s still fussy and trying to escape when Wanda opens the door and sees Rogue at her feet. She smiles as he jumps up and whines before wagging his tail excitedly. She sees you and Nat on the couch and she smiles before coming to check on you.

“Hey, all good?”

She frowns when you offer her a guilty smile before just nodding and releasing a nervous laugh.

“Great! Great, Wands. All good.”

Masterlist

[stargazerlily7210]

Things about this episode (Rogue) that I either haven't seen mentioned yet or, just stood out to me (obviously, spoilers under the cut):

The Childur were our Child/Baby/etc. analogue for this episode...they just behaved so childish the entire time. Like, more than a group of rabid fans in cosplay, they felt like a group of children playing dress up.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Rogue is the distillation of the Jack/River/etc. character type. But almost more than that, he also fits that pattern of returning part-time companions being introduced in an RTD Era episode penned by another writer(s).

**side note. While I do like Rogue, I'm not head over heels for him like many are. But I also disagree with people who are trying to claim he has no charisma/charm. He is just a type of love interest character that isn't currently in vogue (tall dark and handsome, Mysterious morally grey antihero loner with a harsh/brooding/sullen exterior hiding a heart of gold).

I've seen people celebrating the dance scene. And I've seen people talking about the little things that are playing into the TV Show theory, like the mention of TV signals, the Bridgerton namedrops, the Bridgerton soundtrack style of having classical covers of pop songs, the idea of cosplay/fandom to begin with. But I feel like the *Dramatique* lighting change/staging of the dance scene has to have been just as diogetic as anything else we've seen, and might be the biggest example of it we've gotten yet.

**side note again: The way they did the flashback to Carla reminded me of the flashback to Ruby Road in Space Babies, in that it was a tangible, intrusive flashback that was actively happening to The Doctor, if that makes sense? Not just for our benefit.

[utilitycaster]

Didn't get a chance to update my progress last night before CR started but. many things have happened:

Did Davrin's companion quest. I must say. Davrin is a fucking INTENSE person. He wants to talk all the time back at the lighthouse. He uses the most wild hunting metaphors. He is single-minded and arrogant. It is a vibe and he is fun to talk to but he is So Much (I say, known Paladin enjoyer). I also need to level him and the other new companions up more (I am NOT playing favorites even though I have them) but the thing is also, I play a warrior so I was doing pretty good with my initial crew of rogues and mages. The quest was great though, Assan is adorable and I did like learning about Davrin's past (which he's really forthcoming about). You get the sense this man hasn't had anyone to talk to in a while but unlike Neve or Lucanis he's like "and I'm going to do so IN ABUNDANCE." (Bellara and Harding and Emmrich seem to have had more people to talk to; Lucanis would have but for the year in the Ossuary; hard to read Taash).

I have picked up Emmrich! there was a weird crossroads thing where I could eavesdrop on the elven gods whose names I can't spell reliably due to the apostrophes. I love the crossroads by the way. I am trying to balance out my impatience with doing quests (including sidequests) and hanging out at the lighthouse watching Lucanis explain cacio e pepe to Bellara (real thing that happens and it's glorious; it's a way for you to also catch that Lucanis is buying nice coffee for when Neve comes back, pardon me while I lie face down on the floor) with the fact that I would LOVE to explore things forever with the fact that I can't read a fucking map apparently. ANYWAY brought Bellara there and she and Emmrich are pen pals, so this was fun. I fucking love the Necropolis, which is good because I do play a Mourn Watcher and it would be weird if I didn't, but I must admit Emmrich's recruitment quest is like "kill six billion demons while I do a ritual for a bell" and it's like professor you must be shitting me. Then again I play a Mourn Watch warrior (I have heard this is weird within canon lore, to which I say fuck you I'm a cavalier, also clearly SOMEONE needs to kill venatori and ferry around wisps and slay demons and these mages sure aren't doing it, AND the reaper specialty fucks hard AND I get to say goth things that Neve and Emmrich like and Myrna needs SOME boots on the ground to boss around, so there) so it would be kind of weird if I hated it. Anyway Emmrich is great.

Harding is like, a sleeper character; I like her a lot but as a person with no emotional attachment to Inquisition I'm more drawn to the other three starter companions, and she's solid in combat but not flashy for the most part. However I perked the fuck up when she said she felt sorry for Solas and thinks he's deeply lonely; that was a banger conversation and I do think loneliness and not knowing where you fit into the world is very much a theme of this story.

Neve sent a letter saying Rana, Elek (Threads paper seller) and Hal (street fish merchant) were alive but she needs to stay there. This is honestly the best news; if Hal had died I would have never forgiven myself.

Went to do one Mourn Watch quest and was immediately given two more Myrna is my boss and she's like I know we sent you away for "going against the nobility" even though it was "baller" but now that you have a reason to be back temporarily, please do 3 quests now. And I did, and it was pretty great, although the wisp-ferrying stresses me the fuck out.

Decided that before I seek out the trillion other sidequests that suddenly popped up I should grab Taash, because i kept getting "Tab" pop-ups because I have my game on "I don't know what the fuck I am doing mode" to light Necropolis braziers and then they were like "haha no one can do this, Rook, you dumb bitch". There's also Gaatlok somewhere in Minrathous that I couldn't do shit with. So I did that. Taash fucking rules. I was expecting to not necessarily like them not because of their vibes, but because in real life when I encounter 23 year olds I'm like you're baby. And they are, sort of, baby, but they're also hilarious and blunt and a lot of fun. The surliness towards their mom is great; the fire breathing rules; I finally understand the Antaam's deal. I will say I need to go back to the Appearance Mirror because I picked up a really sick shield that does NOT go with my aesthetic. I respect you slutty pirates, but I am a goth. This also ngl makes me wonder what I would do on a replay because Lords of Fortune are not my personal vibe, though Isabela seems great. Probably Veil Jumper honestly. or a mage crow, which would also probably not work with the lore? really my issue is I love the shadow dragons and also probably will always save Treviso so I can never play it because I am if nothing else loyal. Point being, Taash is here and I'm excited.

Neve is back and she's colder than ever towards me! I don't care, she's back and I re-statted her, time to take her out into the field and destroy shit. This does mean I will probably need to, for the first time, make Lucanis heal me. I don't usually need much healing because Story Mode but I'm very slowly learning combat and one day perhaps might inch up to a higher combat level and then I will. Also the champion fights and the dragon fights. I'm just really terrible at avoiding AOE. Also maybe I'll finally use her time slow stuff. I haven't been doing much with the buff abilities because I am a melee/tank/shield-throwing beast but Davrin's taunts were actually very useful.

I have so many side quests and also some main quests so I have no idea what to do. Might check out Morrigan in fallen Minrathous; might do the veil jumpers quests though. There's also some quest in Treviso I haven't pursued and something I picked up in Taash's room. Everyone's back so might as well!

I haven't been talking a ton about all the little codex bits but they are great, and specifically it is important you know that the first book club occurs AFTER everyone is recruited, which is to say, Taash, Davrin, and Lucanis do not attend for whatever reason but Neve, who is grieving and angry, does. This is hilarious.

Manfred and I are tied 1-1 on Rock Paper Scissors; I have been petting Assan every time I go check on the unhinged pantry conversations or go talk to Davrin.

[lizardboyscalesmcstuffins]

I decided to make dndads pokemon team headcanons

Each character will be limited to 3 max (exceptions pending)

Daryll:

Greedent - Looks just like him, Matt said so himself. Calls it Grant. It gets confusing.

Meowth (Galar) - Scruffy just like Daryll. Evolves into Perrserker, fitting Daryll's barbarian class. Named it Aragorn on a whim and wouldn't change it even when people told him it doesn't fit.

Kangaskhan - Loving, protective parent. Inherited from Frank as the baby of his own Kangaskhan now grown up. Named it after his grandmother, Sally.

Henry:

Cradily - No brainer. Best of both interests (nature and geology). Named it Lily. Simple, sweet.

Carnivine - Thorn Whip/Entangle/Grasping Vine! Also representative of his more aggressive nature that he pushes down until he snaps. Named it simply Flower cause he wanted to associate it with nice and gentle imagery.

Trevenant - Had it since he was a boy and both lost their memories when they were transported to earth. Gifted to him by Beary to help attune him to the Doodler's eldritch nature within him by interacting with the ghost type. Made of the husk of an oak tree. Perhaps possessed by the lost soul of an Oakvale child. Can learn Will-O-Wisp, which is a good enough justification for Wall of Fire for me. He never named it.

Glenn:

Beeheeyem - Had it since it was an Elgyem, but doesn't remember catching it. He remembers getting high in the desert one night, then waking up with a new friend. He doesn't even know the species name, he just calls it Star Wars.

Rotom - Let's it chill in his amps or guitars when at home and in his vape pen when on the go. When it possesses his electric guitars it can play loud even without an amp. Calls it Lil' Dude/Lil' Man/Lil' Guy/Lil' Buddy. It responds to all.

Pikachu - of all the characters, he feels the most right to have a Pikachu. What's it's name? Nick Jr.

Glenn hasn't technically captured any of his pokemon.

Ron:

Herdier - His first pokemon that he had to give up long ago. Named Rogue.

Greavard - It found him one day.

Paeden:

Tyrogue - It's the same size as him and he found it after joining the dads. He fought it himself. Calls it his Rival.

Walter the Immoral:

Honedge - The sword that gave him his name. He never wanted a pokemon, but when the sword he crafted broke and killed that hero, it became possessed and returned to him. Has no name, and he barely refers to it. Good friends with Paeden.

Scam Likely/Well Actually/Scam Actually:

He has no set team. Every time he crosses paths with the daddies he has a different pokemon accompanying him, even if they were only separated for an hour.

Some examples of pokemon he's been seen with -

Purrloin

Sneasel (both versions)

Mew

Igglybuff

Each of the daddies' pokemon (at different occasions)

Spinarak

Murkrow

Meowth (Kanto)

Seviper

Zorua (most commonly seen)

Arin O'Neal:

Trevenant - (Lots)

Torterra - (Lots)

Willy:

Dusknoir - Uses it as a tool and nothing else. Doesn't refer to it at all, conditioned it to respond to orders only.

Darkrai - Keeps it contained and under wraps. Never tries to use it for battle or utility. He doesn't want to risk losing control, even in his dreams. He would have to be desperate to resort to using it.

Beary:

Liligant (Hisui) - Uses it as a partner for light aerobics and yoga. Calls it Lily.

Golurk - Created it himself. He considers it something of a magnum opus. Refers to it by its species name.

Dragonite - His ace up his sleeve. He lets it guard the O-Dads compounds and bases. Calls it Raymond Dio Labot.

Bill:

Slaking - His oldest pokemon. Extraordinarily powerful, but just as lazy as he is. Calls it Brother.

Exploud - He likes it loud. Taught it to beatbox and Willy fucking hates it. Calls it Rock and/or Roll.

Rotom - Glenn's Rotom. He bequeathed it to him some time before he "died". He's the one that started calling it any variation of "Lil'" that Glenn caught on to.

The Doodler:

Unown Unknown

[masterling-caretaking-101]

(Ooc: Glad to see you back hope you are okay)

Carnival finally got the support units in today they are extremely helpful. Plus, the OVER'S are good helpers around here as well, Synth loves his new little siblings and Retro is keeping them from crashing into the others. Xeravin is showing the Support Masterlings what to do around here and Carnival is helping their older sibling build a new pen for them to play in! It is tough but Carnival is so happy that this is going alright but Carnival is keeping an eye out cause early in the morning at 2am, The security camera caught 3 rogue Masterlings running into the woods but they aren't friendly at all... They are very bad Masterlings... there was an X-Kai, a Gate, and a Double but they were carrying something... Carnival hopes it wasn't any of the Masterlings that wander the street... Carnival doesn't need any to be lost because of those pest! Hopefully they stay away after the warning blast from Zeravil and Xeravin.

(Ooc: I’m fine??? Sorry, did I worry you somehow? I added to the pinned that I would be answering asks on weekends bc of heckin SCHOOL… also side note, that was QUICK)

Hi!

Glad you’re getting support! I would like to say, no species of Masterling is inherently “bad” or anything like that, though I will admit that some species are more prone to aggression than others. Just make sure to keep an eye out!

Thanks for the ask!

[krispyweiss]

Livingston Taylor at Grandview Heights High School, Grandview Heights, Ohio, March 22, 2025

Whenever he finds himself “moderately discouraged” by the news, Livingston Taylor picks up his acoustic guitar and sings “Over the Rainbow.”

He did so again at his March 22 show at Grandview Heights High School, getting the auditorium to sing along in a sublime moment of Liv’s shades-of-older-brother-James’ vocals floating softly under some 300 hushed voices before rising to the top for the resolving question: Why can’t I?

So ended Taylor’s latest performance for Six String Concerts, the Central Ohio nonprofit concert series he helped launch by headlining its first gig all the way back in 1988.

There was something appropriate about a college professor - Taylor taught stage performance classes, counting Susan Tedeschi and Molly Tuttle among his students, at Berklee College of Music for more than three decades - working his craft in a high school. And Taylor, dressed in a sweater vest and bow tie with a rainbow guitar strap, made the most of his 85 minutes, with a combination of hilarity (“I don’t get this look by not teaching college,” he said), originals like “Kitty Hawk, December 1903” and such covers as “Getting to Know You,” Laura Nyro’s “Sweet Blindness” and other “Wizard of Oz” numbers like “If I Only Had a Brain” and “The Merry Old Land of Oz.”

The setting was so intimate, Taylor delivered much of his between-song banter off-mic as he walked between the U.S. flag and Ohio burgee flanking the stage like a comedian doing a bit. He was self-deprecating and reflective as he talked about the fleeting muse; his favorite songwriters (Rogers and Hammerstein, Goffin and King among them); and gave the audience permission to leave early if the single-set format left them antsy or bored.

“I’m glad to have you as long as I can,” he said.

The same could be said for the fans who raptly absorbed such originals as “Everybody’s Just Like Me” and laughed heartily at “Olympic Guitar,” in which Taylor doubles as a musical athlete who got a chance at a medal after Leo Kottke was injured, and the TV network’s color commentator.

Taylor, 74, also played piano, where he offered the new - and utterly devastating - “Too Old to Dream,” and banjo, on which he played “Henry” and a medley of “Jailhouse Rock,” “To All the Girls I’ve Loved Before,” “You’re So Vain” and “New York, New York,” thus showcasing numbers that “should never, ever, be played on the banjo.”

But Taylor is a master of making things work that otherwise shouldn’t, whether revealing the hidden beauty in the theme from “Arthur” and “Here You Come Again” or by illustrating how humor can easily fit into the generally serious genre of folk music, as when the titular “Railroad Bill” goes rogue and refuses to save a kitten stuck in a tree:

I’m the writer, goddam, I got the pen in my hand/and you’re supposed to listen to me, Taylor sung before switching roles.

He said, you asshole/why should I listen to you, you should be listening to me instead/he said I’m a railroad man and if I was real, I’d separate your face from your head

While that thankfully didn’t happen, one thing did: on a Saturday night in Ohio’s capital, where protests were the order of the afternoon, Taylor - at least temporarily - separated Mr. and Mrs. Sound Bites’ more-than-moderate discouragement their brains in a much-needed respite from a world going mad.

Grade card: Livingston Taylor at Grandview Heights High School - 3/22/25 - A

3/23/25

[illarian-rambling]

🐹 for the OC ask game?

Confession: I've never played a Pokémon game in my life. I just had the cards as a kid cause I thought the art looked pretty, so I'm not really sure how to answer this one.

In lieu of that, I'm gonna answer about a game I know way too much about: dnd!

🎲 If your OC played a pen and paper RPG, what class would they pick? Warrior, mage, thief, ranger, cleric, paladin, druid, necromancer, bard (or other, if that’s not enough).

Izjik would be a gloomstalker ranger with a 3 level dip into battlemaster fighter to help facilitate that melee build. She'd have good strength, dex, and con, but abysmal everything else. Her maneuvers would be tripping attack, goading attack, and ambush.

Sepo would be a swashbuckler rogue with expertise in stealth and intimidation. His charisma would be high just for that intimidation, and his panache ability would just be him giving people a death glare. He'd duel wield daggers.

Twenari - despite being in Illari terms, a sorcerer who gets magic from her blood - acts much more like a wizard in the practical sense. She'd be an evocation wizard with the warcaster feat. Later on, she'd probably take a dip into artificer.

Djek would be a thief rogue/shadow sorcerer multiclass with high dex and charisma, but low strength and con. I thought about making him an arcane trickster, but he does damage with his magic that would fit closer to a sorcerer. He'd definitely be higher into rogue than sorcerer.

Astra would be an artillerist artificer, despite fighting like a full caster, rather than a hald caster. The arcane cannon ability could be reflavored as her ribbon coat, while her infusions are all the gadgets she makes. She'd probably take the skilled feat.

Mashal is pure battlemaster fighter. He has high strength and con, but utterly terrible wisdom. His maneuvers would be bait and switch, disarming attack, and riposte. He'd also have the mage slayer feat.

Ivander would have one level of celestial warlock for flavor, then the rest would be in inquisitive rogue, as he doesn't really use magic all that much, but he is one hell of a detective. He'd abuse tf out of steady aim and probably take the gunner feat.

Elsind's main battle strength is being slippery and they fight without weapons, so I guess that makes them a monk? I'd say way of long death monk because they're pretty tanky, but he's too nervous to do much fighting.

Avymere, as much as I love making fighters, fits way too well to be anything but an oath of devotion paladin, even if they have no divine magic in the actual story. I feel like they'd have the sentinel feat as well.

Thanks for the question, and forgive me for derailing it, I just love talking about dnd :)