#so maybe that all just complements itself

[so-you-melted-22]

You know what, I should learn how to do metal screams!

[d1stalker]

All of You, All of Me [Logan Howlett]

Summary: In a world of black and white, the only person who could bring colour to your life is the last one who'd want to.

Warnings: au where everything is black and white until you meet your soulmate, fem!reader, slow burn, angst, running away from feelings, pining, grovelinggg WC: 14.2k - MASTERLIST - A/N: help i'm sorry i didn't mean for it to get this long, but this fic is my baby

----

You've always cherished the idea of having a soulmate—someone who would love you unconditionally, waiting just for you as you them. The thought of finding that perfect match, the one who complements you in every way, is something you’ve always dreamed of. 

But as you get older, the hope you carry seems to dwindle more and more each year. Everyone around you has found their other half, reveling in the newfound ability to see colours in all their glory, and soaking up every moment of shared affection.

Everyone, except for you.

Your world remains a stark, colourless void, as if the universe is deliberately withholding the one thing you desire most.

And to make matters worse, despite not finding your soulmate, you are unequivocally, irrevocably in love with someone who has.

Logan Howlett.

You can’t remember a time where you didn’t feel anything toward him. His rugged, lone-wolf demeanor snuck its way deep into the crevices of your heart, and made itself a home there.

You and him formed an unlikely friendship, formed through the desire to fight back against all the people who’ve wronged mutants. Over the years, you had accepted the fact that while he wasn’t yours, at least you were alone together. Well, until she came.

Jean Grey.

She was strong, charming, and everything you felt you weren’t. It was no wonder her and Logan were meant to be together—the stoic, brooding mutant and his graceful, strong-willed counterpart. 

You remember the day it happened so vividly, it’s almost like you were the one who found their life partner. You and him had been walking around the mansion, when Charles had called you into his office to meet someone new. One look at their faces when they made eye contact and you knew you’d lost him.

It pained you to see them all over each other, all the time. Your once-regular walks in the garden became rare, then vanished entirely. On missions, he no longer looked out for you; his attention was consumed by protecting her. And as much as it hurt, you couldn’t deny they seemed perfect for each other—just as soulmates should be. You had no right to feel jealous.

Then, just as quickly as she had entered his life, she left it. 

The Pheonix was too strong, ripping her apart from the inside out. The pained scream he let out as not only his heart died, but as the world around him faded back into black and white, was forever ingrained into your memory. 

Logan was never the same after that.

 —

You trudge down the familiar halls of the mansion, your feet heavy with the weight of the day. It’s been long, filled with training sessions, team meetings, and a lot of paperwork. All you want to do is retreat to your room, lose yourself in a book, or maybe just sleep until the ache in your chest dulls.

As you walk, you hear faint commotion down the hallway—a low murmur of voices and the occasional clatter of something being moved. But you pay it no mind, too lost in your thoughts to care. Another mission, another discussion, another moment where you aren’t needed. It’s all so routine now.

Lost in your reverie, you don’t notice the figure walking toward you until it’s too late. You collide with a solid chest, the impact jolting you back to reality.

“Oh, sorry—” you begin, stepping back, but the words die on your lips as you look up.

It’s Logan.

Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, shock rippling through your body as you process his presence. And for a moment, neither of you speak. You just stand there, taking him in—the man who was once your closest friend, the man who was torn apart by grief and loss. His clothes are rumpled, his skin rougher than you remember, like he’s been through hell and back. 

You hadn’t seem him in a long time. After the devastation, he stopped talking to everyone. He holed himself up in his room for days at a time, only coming out in the dead of night to eat. Either that, or he was away on a mission–anything to stay distracted. 

But now, looking at him, there’s something different off. Something you can’t quite place your finger on. Did he always look like that? Maybe it’s the way the light above is reflecting off of him. Or maybe it’s—oh.

Looking around in surprise, you watch as the usually dark, stoic walls explode into a deep, rich shade. The carpet below you—no longer a mural of grey—radiates colors you can’t name. Your hands, his eyes, his hair-

You want to open your mouth and say something, anything, to the man who has caused your world to shift on its axis, but he’s already turned, walking away from you.

“Give me a fuckin’ break.”

----

Brown. Logan’s hair is brown.

After Logan leaves you paralyzed in the hallway, you run to your room, find the book on colors you had stashed in your bedside table, and throw open the cover. In it is a diagram that displays every known colour and their names. You learn that your favorite pair of pants are maroon, your bedsheets are navy green, and the X-Men suits are bright yellow and blue.

You stare at the page, each word blurring as your mind tries to process the impossible. Logan’s hair is brown. The thought keeps repeating in your head like a mantra, over and over again, until it becomes a steady thrum, drowning out everything else.

Brown.

You sit back on your bed, letting the book slip from your hands, the pages crumpling as it hits the floor.

Why him? Why me? Why now?

You begin to fidget, the adrenaline of the prior moment causing your heart to flail in your chest like crazy. You can’t stay here, you think to yourself. The idea of locked in your room with only your thoughts for company does not sound appealing. You need air, something to ground you, something to clear the haze clouding your head. Without thinking, you jump out of bed and find yourself heading up to the roof, the one place where you can breathe without feeling like the walls of the mansion closing in on you.

The trip up the stairs feels longer than ever before, each step heavy under the weight of your mind. It’s like every thought adds ten pounds. When you open the door, the cool night air hits you like a welcomed slap to the face, and you exhale deeply.

Walking to the edge, you lean against the railing. You’re in a daze - wondering if you made up the entire thing in your head. The only proof that you haven't, and that Logan being your soulmate is real, is the colours that coat the mansion’s grounds. The moonlight bathes everything in what you now know as a soft, silver glow, and for a moment, you just stand there, looking out into the distance.

It doesn’t make sense, and the more you try to wrap your head around it, the more tangled your thoughts become. You don’t want to face the possibility of what it could mean, but you can’t just brush it aside either. It has quite literally changed your entire life. 

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath in an attempt to quiet your racing mind. But when you open them again, you freeze.

Logan is standing at the other end of the roof, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the sky. He hasn’t noticed you yet, and for a split second, you consider turning back, retreating before he sees you. It would be a wise idea - he didn’t want to talk to you then, and he probably doesn’t want to talk to you now. But, it an act that can only be seen as your own body betraying you, you take a step forward. 

The sudden movement catches his attention, and his head snaps in your direction, his eyes locking onto yours. 

“Why are you here?” he asks accusingly.

You hesitate, unsure of how to answer. Seeing him out here was the last thing you had expected, and now that he’s in front of you, you are at a loss of words.

Logan’s eyes narrow, and he pushes off the wall, walking toward you. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I needed air,” you manage to say, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I just needed to clear my head.”

“Well, find somewhere else to do it,” he snaps, “I don’t want company.”

“Logan, I—”

“Don’t,” he interrupts, not even bothering to hear you out. “Don’t start. I know what you’re gonna say, and I don’t want to hear it.”

You blink, taken aback, and hurt at his coldness. “What are you talking about?”

He lets out a low, humourless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You think I don’t know what’s going on? God, I… this is all so fucking stupid.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you feel a flush of embarrassment rise to your cheeks. “I wasn’t—”

“Enough!” he barks, his voice echoing in the night. “I’m not interested, alright? Whatever it is you think is happening between us, it’s not real. It’s just some stupid trick of the universe, and I’m not playing along.”

His words hit you like a physical blow - like you’ve just been shot at right in the heart - and you have to bite your lip to keep from crying out. “I don’t understand. I didn’t mean for any of this—”

“Yeah, well, neither did I,” he snaps at you, “And I’m not gonna sit here and pretend like there’s something here,” he gestures between you two, “when there isn’t. You’re not mine, and I’m sure as hell not yours.”

The finality in his tone leaves you breathless, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him. You have nothing to say back, he’s not giving you any slack. The reality of his rejection sinks in with a brutal, crushing weight, you have to put in effort to not stumble over. 

After a long moment, you finally collect yourself. Then, “Okay,” you whisper. “I understand.”

Logan’s expression doesn’t soften; if anything, it grows colder, more distant.

“Good. Then stay away from me.”

You nod, eyes filling with tears. You quickly turn your face away, not wanting him to see just how much he’s hurt you.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, barely audible. “I didn’t mean to make things worse for you.”

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t even acknowledge your apology. He just turns away, his back to you, effectively shutting you out.

You stand there for a long moment, watching him walk away for the second time that night. The colours that seemed so vibrant, so full of life just a moment ago, now feel like a cruel reminder of everything you could never have.

—

When you eventually return to your room, all you can do is lay in bed and stare up at the ceiling as your encounter with Logan on the roof replays in your mind on an endless loop, each harsh word he’d thrown at you cutting deeper than the last. It’s causes pain unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, pain that seems to have no end, no respite.

If he doesn’t want you in his life, you’ll accept that. You have to - it’s not like you have a choice. Soulmates are a two-way street.  

You can’t force him to feel something he doesn’t, can’t make him see you in a way he clearly never will. And you understand, don’t you? You can’t even imagine how difficult this would be for him. Losing your soulmate, and then the universe saying Fuck You and giving you another? 

You’ll never ever forget how wrecked he was when Jean died. How her death shattered him into pieces so small you weren’t–no–you’re still not sure he’ll ever be whole again. 

And you—where do you stand in the grand scheme of things? Just as the unfortunate recipient of a bond that neither of you asked for? Are you even allowed to be upset about this?

—

Waking up the next morning, you honestly wish you hadn’t. You knew you weren’t on good terms with Logan after his little rooftop showcase of emotions, but nothing could have prepared you for the way he starts to treat you.

His face is stuck in a perpetual scowl when you’re in his vicinity. He’s leaving every room the moment you enter, refusing to look at you, speak to you, or acknowledge your presence in any way. It’s as if you’ve become invisible, a ghost haunting the same halls you once shared with him. There’s only one thing you two seem to wordlessly agree on: don’t tell anyone. 

Each day following becomes a struggle, an unbearable test of your strength as you try to make it through without breaking. You begin to avoid Logan as much as he avoids you, but the mansion is only so big, and there are always moments when you catch sight of him in the distance, his broad shoulders hunched, his brooding face glaring daggers in your direction. 

It hurts you every time, an unending torture that leaves you stumbling. Still, you bite your tongue and keep moving, pretending you don’t care.

But you do care. You care more than you want to admit, more than you think is possible. Because despite everything—despite the rejection, the coldness, the anger—you still love him. 

And that’s the cruelest twist of all.

So you endure it, day after day, week after week, month after month. Letting it tear you apart piece by piece, because what else can you do? You carry this burden alone, just as you’ve carried your feelings for him all these years. And maybe one day, the pain will fade, the bond will weaken, and you’ll be able to move on.

—

The only person you tell is Charles.

“What’s on your mind, my child?” he asks one day, while you’re sweeping the dust in his office. 

You hesitate, your gaze dropping to your hands as you focus on cleaning. You know he’s just asking out of courtesy, and that he could easily crawl into your mind and figure it out himself. He probably wouldn’t even need to put in that much effort, given how loud your thoughts are. But still, you don’t yield to his probing.

“Nothing, really,” you mutter, forcing a small smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “Just… tired, I guess.”

Charles watches you carefully, his eyes full of the warmth and compassion he always has, but this time, it makes you feel uncomfortable. Like he can see right through the facade you’re trying so hard to maintain, which you have no doubt, he does. 

“I’m here to help, whatever the burden.”

You want to groan. It’s not like he’s doing it on purpose but damn does it feel like he’s trying to guilt you into confessing that you just recently had your heart shattered. 

“I know, Professor. But… it’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“You forget, I worry about all of you,” he replies gently. “It’s in my nature.”

The chuckle that crawls out your throat is nothing short of bitter. “It’s just… complicated.”

“Complicated doesn’t mean you have to face it alone.”

You bite your lip, trying to keep the emotions at bay. Do you really want to explain to him the insurmountable suffering you’re in, the rejection you faced from the one person who is supposed to be your soulmate? How can you tell him that the bond the universe forged is the very thing tearing you apart?

“It’s just… I don’t know how to make sense of it, Professor,” you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “Everything’s so… wrong.”

He leans forward slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “Wrong how?”

Knowing that you’re teetering into confession territory, you hesitate, needing time to collect your thoughts. 

“Logan… he… we… It’s not supposed to be like this, is it?” you eventually get out. Not your best work, but you know he’d get the gist. 

Understanding dawns in Charles’s eyes, and you can see the sympathy there, the quiet acceptance of the truth you’re struggling to voice. “The bond you share… it’s more than you expected, isn’t it?”

You nod, feeling the tears well up again. “But he doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want me.”

The professor sighs softly, and he looks at you like you’re a lost puppy. “Logan has been through so much, more than most could bear. His heart has been wounded in ways that are difficult to heal, and it’s not surprising that he would resist this new connection.”

“So why me?” you ask. “Why bind me to someone who will never love me?”

Leaning back in his chair, his fingers steepled thoughtfully, he says, “I wish I had an answer for you, my dear. The universe works in mysterious ways, ways that often defy our understanding. But I do know this: the bond you share is there for a reason. Whether it’s meant to bring you closer or to teach you something important… that remains to be seen.”

“It feels like a punishment,” you whisper, the tears finally spilling over. As much as you hate being put on the hot seat, you can admit that it feels good talking to someone about it.  “Every day, it hurts more. And he won’t even look at me. I don’t know how to make it stop.”

“The heartache you’re feeling is profound, but you must understand that it’s not your fault. Logan’s reaction isn’t a reflection of your worth, but of his own pain and fear.”

He reaches out, placing a comforting hand on your own before continuing.

“To love, even when it’s not returned, takes incredible courage. But you must also take care of yourself. Give Logan the space he needs, and in the meantime, allow yourself the grace to heal.”

So you do. In the days that follow your conversation with Charles, you make a promise to yourself—to try, really try, to focus on your own life, to reclaim the parts of yourself that have been overshadowed by the pain of this unrequited love.

The colours are still there, vivid and vibrant, and though they sometimes feel like a bittersweet reminder of what could never be, you find moments where they bring you joy. You marvel at the deep blue of the sky, the rich greens of the trees, the way the sunlight filters through the leaves and paints the world in golden hues. It’s like seeing the world anew, and in those moments, you allow yourself to feel happiness.

Moreover, you busy yourself, volunteering for every assignment that comes your way. The adrenaline, the focus, the purpose—they all help to drown out the pain, even if only temporarily. And when you return from each mission, tired but satisfied, you feel a little more like yourself again.

The mansion, too, becomes less of a prison and more of a home once more. You start spending more time with the others, rejoining them for meals, for training sessions, for movie nights. 

You laugh with Rogue, spar with Scott, and even find yourself engaging in playful banter with Remy. It’s not perfect, and there are still moments where you catch yourself faltering, when the weight of everything threatens to pull you under, but those moments are becoming fewer and farther between.

You’re healing, slowly but surely, and with each passing day, you feel a little stronger, a little more in control of your life—of your emotions. 

But then there are the times when you cross paths with Logan, and those moments are the hardest.

One evening, after returning from a particularly grueling mission, you find yourself heading toward the kitchen, your mind on the sandwich you plan to make. The place is quiet, most of the team out on various assignments, or finishing up on some work, and you relish the peace as you walk down the corridor.

However, just as you reach the kitchen door and push it open, you find Logan standing there, preparing to exit the room at the exact same moment. Your heart lurches, and you stop dead in your tracks, almost like a deer caught in headlights. 

His gaze meets yours, and all you can see is his impassive, stoic expression. He steps back, giving you space to enter, but the tension between you is palpable.

“Sorry,” you mumble, stepping to the side, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

Logan doesn’t say anything, barely nodding—if you could even it that— before brushing past you, his shoulder grazing yours. The brief contact sends a jolt through your system, and you have to force yourself to stay still and not physically react. 

Once he leaves, you let out a shaky breath, your heart still racing from the encounter. It’s been so long since you’ve been this close to him—so long since you’ve seen the deep brown of his hair that you love so much. You hate this. 

Why does he have no reaction to at all? Why is it only you who seems to care? 

Because you are the only one who does care.

You move into the kitchen, still intent on eating, but it’s a challenge. Your hands are trembling.

—

It all comes to a head one night during dinner. In this rare occasion, both you and Logan are in the same room. You’re supposed to be celebrating Rogue and Gambit’s anniversary, and even though you insisted that they share this special moment together alone, they didn’t take no for an answer. 

That’s how you find yourself, sitting at the grand dining table with all your friends, and Logan. 

He’s across from you. Just your luck.

He refuses to spare you a single glance, his eyes staying busy the whole night. And while it’s been months and months of this, you have never gotten used to it. Still, you can’t help but sneak a few looks at that chocolate-coloured hair. Brown. 

Everything seems to be going smoothly, the food is delicious and the dessert even better, but when Gambit presents Rogue with a giant painting, that’s when you slip up. 

“I love how you blended the red with the blue!” You compliment, loving the way he managed to create the perfect contrast between shades. You’re too caught up in staring at the artwork to realize the table as gone deathly quiet, all eyes on you.

Rogue's expression is one of gentle confusion, her head tilted slightly as she tries to make sense of your words. “Darling, I thought you couldn’t see colour?”

In any other situation, you’re sure the team would have laughed at how comically large your eyes got, and how all the blood draining from your face makes you look like a gaping fish, but in this moment, nothing is funny. You can feel Logan’s eyes on you, and when you finally muster the courage to glance at him, you see that his all-too familiar glare you’ve been subject to for the last half-year. It makes your heart thud painfully in your chest

“I…” you begin, but you falter. Your mind is going through a thousand thoughts per minute, searching for an excuse you can use to deflect, to pretend it was just a mistake, but the silence is too heavy, too demanding.

Rogue’s confusion deepens, her gaze flickering between you and Logan, who is now staring at you with an expression that’s impossible to read. She starts to say something, but Remy gently places a hand on her arm, shaking his head slightly as if to tell her to let you speak. 

Logan’s gaze stays locked on you for a moment longer. Then, without a word, he pushes his chair back, the legs scraping harshly against the floor. The sound echoes in the silence, and before you can react, he stands up and walks out of the room, his movements stiff, almost mechanical.

The door closes behind him with a quiet click, and the tension in the room thickens. You feel a rush of embarrassment flood through you, your heart sinking as the reality of what just happened crashes over you. 

You lower your head, your eyes stinging with tears that you fight desperately to hold back. But it’s no use. The emotions you’ve been trying to keep buried for so long bubble to the surface, and before you can stop yourself, the tears start to fall. 

“I think I need a moment,” you manage to whisper, your voice trembling as you stand up from the table. Without waiting for a response, you hastily excuse yourself and head for the door, not before mumbling a quick apology to the couple in which you were there for.

Soon you find yourself outside in the gardens, the nightly breeze hitting your face as you make your way to a secluded bench. You can’t even appreciate the beauty in what you see, because all you feel is the overwhelming sense of failure and sadness that threatens to swallow you whole.

Sitting down heavily on the bench, you bury your face in your hands and let go. The sobs come hard and fast, each one ripping through you with a force that leaves you breathless. You’re heartbroken and angry and absolutely over it, but at the same time you feel like a massive asshole because who are you to be upset with a man who’s mourning the loss of a soulmate? 

It’s not fair.

You don’t know how long you sit there, lost in your grief, but eventually, you hear the sound of footsteps approaching. You look up, wiping at your eyes, and see Scott walking toward you.

“Mind if I join you?” he asks gently.

You shake your head, unable to find your voice, and Scott sits down beside you on the bench. 

“I’m sorry,” you croak, “I didn’t mean to ruin the night.”

Scott clicks his tongue in disagreement, his gaze focused on the gardens ahead. “You didn’t ruin anything. It’s clear you’ve been carrying this burden for a long time. It’s no wonder it slipped out tonight.”

“So everyone knows now?” you ask. He nods.

“It wasn’t hard to put two and two together,” he concludes, and you groan, bringing your hands to your face.

“I just… I didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t want to be pitied.”

“Pity isn’t what anyone feels right now,” Scott says softly. “We’re worried about you. You’ve been hurting, and we didn’t see it. That’s on us.”

“It’s not your fault,” you bring your hands down from your face. “I’ve been trying to deal with it on my own. I thought I could handle it, but… clearly I was wrong”

With a serious expression, Scott turns to look at you. “I know what you’re going through, more than you might realize.”

You glance at him, surprised by his words. “You do?”

He nods, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I was in love with Jean, remember? When her and Logan found out they were soulmates… it tore me apart. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to move on, and for a long time, I couldn’t.”

The mention of Jean’s name brings a fresh wave of emotion crashing over you, but there’s also a strange comfort in knowing that Scott understands your pain. “How did you… how did you get through it?”

He sighs, “It wasn’t easy. It took a long time, and I had to accept it.”

You wipe at your eyes again, sniffling as you try to compose yourself. “I’ve been thinking about leaving for a while. Taking a longer mission, just to get away for a bit. Maybe then I can figure out how to move on.”

He is quiet for a moment, considering your words. “If that’s what you need to do, I understand,” he says, “sometimes, a change of scenery can help. Though I think you should try to talk to Logan again.”

Letting out a bitter laugh, you shake your head. “I don’t know if he’ll even listen to me. He’s made it pretty clear how he feels.”

“He’s hurting too,” He decides, “He’s not handling it well, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. You both need closure, and running away won’t give you that.”

“What if it just makes things worse?”

“It might.” Scott places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “But it might also give you both the chance to start healing. You deserve that chance.”

You nod slowly, letting the weight of his words sink in. “I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

“Take the time you need,” he says. “We’re all here for you.”

“Thanks, Scott. That means a lot.” You offer him a small, grateful smile.

With a final nod, he turns and walks back toward the mansion, leaving you once again alone in the quiet of the gardens. You take a deep breath, the idea of leaving still tugs at you, but now, there’s also the thought of confronting Logan—of finding some kind of closure, whatever that might mean.

You really don’t want to do it, and you’re pretty sure it’s just going to end the same way it did last time - with him shutting you out. But Scott’s words echo in your mind, reminding you that healing often requires confrontation, not avoidance.

Goddamn it.

You huff as you stand up from where you’re seated. You can’t keep running from this, can’t keep letting him run from this. You need to talk to Logan, to lay everything out on the table, even if it tears you apart in the process.

Your anxiety builds with each step as you approach his room, and you pause outside his door, your heart pounding so loudly you’re sure he could hear it if he was listening. This is it. There’s no turning back now. With a shaky breath, you finally raise your hand and knock. 

There’s a long, agonizing pause, making you strain to hear any movement on the other side. For a second, the silence causes you think he might not answer, that he might just ignore you like he’s done so many times before. But then, you hear the faint sound of footsteps approaching the door. Your heart catches in your throat as it slowly opens, revealing Logan standing there, his expression hard and unreadable.

The moment he realizes it’s you, his eyes darken, and he immediately moves to close the door, shutting you out yet again. However, you’re not letting him get away that easily. Before the door can fully close, you stick your foot out, blocking it with more force than you intended.

“C’mon, Logan,” you press. “You know we need to talk.”

He freezes, his grip on the door tightening until his knuckles turn white. His jaw clenches and unclenches, nostrils flaring. He still doesn’t look at you, his gaze fixed on some distant point as if he can will you away if he tries hard enough. But he doesn’t push the door shut either. The room is thick with suspense, both of you standing there in a silent standoff.

Finally, with a low growl of frustration, Logan steps back, opening the door just a smidge wider, barely enough for you to squeeze through. It’s a reluctant invitation, but it’s all you need.

“Fine,” he mutters, his voice rough, edged with irritation. “Talk.”

You step into the room, and he closes the door behind you, lingering close to it, as if he’s ready to bolt at any second. You feel vulnerable and exposed. It’s suddenly hard to gather your thoughts when he’s standing so close, when the heat of his presence and the distance he’s placed between is right in your face.

“Why did you come?” Logan questions. He still refuses to look directly at you, his gaze fixed somewhere over your shoulder.

“Because we can’t keep pretending this isn’t happening,” you reply, “We need to talk about what’s going on between us.”

His jaw tightens further, and his teeth grind with barely contained frustration. He finally looks at you, his eyes hard and defensive. “There’s nothing to say,” he says bitterly. “I told you how I feel. I thought that was enough.”

“It’s not enough!” you shoot back, your own frustration bubbling to the surface. “You think you can just push me away, pretend like this bond doesn’t exist, and that’s supposed to solve everything? It doesn’t work like that, Logan.”

He flinches slightly at your words, but his keeps his expression hard. “Well what do you want me to say?” he demands, his voice rising. “That I’m sorry? That I didn’t mean to hurt you? Because I am, and I didn’t. But that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t be what you want me to be.”

His words hurt. 

“I know you told me how you feel,” you start, “but you’ve never let me tell you how I feel. You’ve never given me the chance to say that it’s been tearing me apart.”

A flash of guilt. “I didn’t think… I didn’t think you needed to say it. I already knew.”

“That isn’t fair,” you argue.

“You don’t understand,” he counters, “I lost Jean. I loved her, and when she died, it broke something in me. And now… now I’m supposed to just… move on? With you? It’s not that simple.��

“I never asked you to love me, Logan,” you say, your voice trembling with the intensity of your emotions. “I never pushed for anything more than friendship—it’s not like you gave me the chance! You’ve been shutting me out, ignoring me, making me feel like I’m nothing more than a burden, like I don’t even matter!”

You can see that the pain in your voice hitting him hard, but he doesn’t apologize. Instead, he looks away, his expression conflicted. “I’m trying to protect you,” he mutters, the words sounding hollow even to him

“Protect me?” you echo incredulously. “All you’re doing is make me feel like shit. Like I’m worthless. I can’t even be your friend, to help you through this.”

You pause. “You expect us all to know how you’re feeling, but you can’t even communicate it.”

Logan winces, his eyes flicking up to meet yours, filled with a torment you’ve never seen before. He opens his mouth to say something, but the words seem to get caught in his throat. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he breaks the silence, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I can’t be what you want me to be,” he admits, his tone filled with a deep, aching sadness. “I don’t know how to let you in. Without her, I feel like… I can’t let anyone in.”

Your eyes soften a fraction his confession, but there’s also a deep frustration that burns inside you, a frustration born of months of pain and rejection. 

“You haven’t even tried,” you say softly with a quiet resignation, “You haven’t even tried to let me in, to see what we could have been, even if it was just as friends.”

What follows is a long, nagging silence. You let it linger, giving Logan the chance he needs to think of something to say. But there’s no answer, no promise that things will change, and then you realize, with a sinking feeling, that he’s not going to take that step, too broken to try.

That’s when it really hits you. 

Whatever you were fighting for, was a losing battle from the start. 

You give up.

This time, it is you who turns your back on him. 

“Goodbye, Logan. Take care of yourself.”

You don’t wait for a response. You don’t glance back. You walk out of the room, the door closing softly behind you, and with it, the last remnants of hope you had for something more.

— 

You decide to go on the mission.

It’s nothing complicated. Your task is to survey different regions of Europe, ensuring that there are no burgeoning anti-mutant operations threatening the safety of anyone. The primary goal is gathering information, and quiet observation. No violence, Charles told you in the debrief. 

The lack of immediate danger doesn’t make leaving any easier, though. This is as much about finding yourself as it is about fulfilling your duty.

Rogue and Kitty are with you during your final preparations, helping you pack the essentials and offering support in their own ways. They don’t ask many questions, probably sensing that this decision was not just made on a whim. And for that, you’re grateful.

“I still think you’re crazy for going solo,” Rogue says with a half-smile as she zips up your bag. “But if anyone can handle it, it’s you.”

You manage a small smile in return. “Thanks, Rogue. I just need some time…”

Kitty, who’s been quietly folding clothes and tucking them into your bag, looks up, seriousness clouding her gaze.  “We get it. Just promise you’ll keep in touch, okay? And don’t hesitate to call if you need backup.”

“I promise,” you assure.

She hesitates for a moment before reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small device—the X-Men communicator gadget. She holds it out to you, and you reach your hand out. 

“Here,” she says softly, pressing the device into your hand. “This is so you can update us on your whereabouts, your status, or any important mission details. Even if you don’t need anything, just… let us know you’re okay, alright?”

You look down at the communicator in your hand, and close your fingers around it, nodding as you meet Kitty’s gaze. 

“Alright, I’ll check in regularly. I won’t leave you guys in the dark.”

Rogue finishes the last bit of organization. “You’ve got this,” she says, “And we’ve got your back, even from a distance.” You nod, appreciating their support more than you can express. 

It almost feels like a walk of shame—leaving the mansion. Everyone knows why too, and that makes it a thousand times worse. But you won’t let it get to you. With one last look, you get in your car and begin on the windy path to the airport. 

—

When you arrive in Europe, the first thing that strikes you is the sheer beauty of the landscape. Each city, each town, has its own unique charm, its own story to tell. The bustling uphill streets of Porto, the serene canals of Venice, the ancient ruins of Athens—they all offer a distraction from the turmoil inside you.

The only good part about this whole mess is that you can see colour, and truly appreciate the sights before you.

You move from one place to the next, blending in with the crowds, quietly observing, gathering information, and sending brief updates to the team through the communicator Kitty gave you. Every message is short, to the point, just enough to let them know you’re safe and on track. You don’t share much beyond the essentials, not wanting to burden them with your personal struggles.

Then, in a small café in Rome, you meet a man named Marco. He’s a traveler like you, exploring Europe with a curiosity that matches your own. He’s warm, easygoing, and before long, the two of you strike up a conversation over coffee.

He is charming in a way that makes you feel at ease, his laughter infectious as he shares stories of his travels. You don’t tell him much about yourself, keeping the details of your mission and your mutant abilities hidden. To him, you’re just another traveler, searching for something—though he doesn’t pry into what that something is.

As the days pass, you and Marco continue to cross paths, and it’s nice to have someone to talk to, someone who doesn’t know about your past, about the things you’re running from. With him, you can be anyone, and for the first time in a long while, you start to feel a little lighter. You find yourself laughing more, the weight on your chest lifting a little each day. You don’t talk about the mission, and you certainly don’t talk about Logan.

One evening, as you’re both sitting on the steps of the Spanish Steps in Rome, watching the sunset, he turns to you with a grin. “So, where are you off to next?”

You hesitate, not wanting to reveal too much, but then you smile. “I’m heading to Florence. There are some places I need to check out.”

His eyes light up. “Florence? I’ve been meaning to re-visit. Mind if I tag along?”

A part of you wants to say no, to keep the distance you’ve carefully maintained, but another part—the part that’s been lonely for so long—nods in agreement. “Sure, why not?”

—

Back at the mansion, things haven’t been as positive. The once lively atmosphere has dimmed, replaced by an uneasy tension that lingers in the halls. The X-Men carry on with their duties, but there’s a noticeable shift—a missing piece that everyone feels but no one talks about. Logan, in particular, has become even more withdrawn, if that’s possible. The man who was once brooding and distant now seems even more so, his mood volatile and unpredictable.

His behavior has become a source of concern for the team. He’s always been rough around the edges, but now, it’s like the slightest thing can set him off. He snaps at everyone, his temper flaring at the smallest provocation. On missions, he’s reckless, throwing himself into danger without a second thought, as if he’s trying to outrun something—or someone. 

In many evenings, Logan finds himself in the mansion’s gym, trying to work off the restless energy that’s been plaguing him for months. The room is always empty, save for him, the steady rhythm of his fists pounding against the punching bag being the only sound. Sweat drips down his face, his muscles straining as he channels all his frustration and anger into each punch. Yet, no matter how hard he hits, he can’t seem to shake the thoughts of you that have been haunting him.

This night, door to the gym creaks open, and Logan doesn’t need to look up to know who it is. He can sense the other man’s presence, feel the weight of his gaze as he steps inside. He doesn’t slow his punches, doesn’t acknowledge Scott’s presence, but he knows why he’s here. They’ve had this conversation before—or something like it—but nothing’s changed. Nothing’s gotten better.

Scott watches him for a moment, his expression unreadable. He’s been watching Logan spiral for weeks now, but he’s kept his distance, knowing that he’d only be pushed away. But this can’t go on—Logan can’t keep doing this, can’t keep tearing himself apart over something he refuses to confront.

“She wouldn’t want this,” he finally says, voice cutting through the steady thud of Logan’s fists against the bag.

Logan’s movements falter for just a second before he resumes, his jaw tightening. “Who?” he growls, not bothering to turn around. “Her or Jean?”

Scott doesn’t flinch at the harshness in the other man’s tone. He steps closer, his eyes steady on their target as he answers, “Both.”

Finally, Logan stops. His fists still as he leans against the bag, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His shoulders are tense, the weight of Scott’s words pressing down on him like a physical burden. He doesn’t want to hear this, doesn’t want to be reminded of what he’s lost—of who he’s lost. 

Taking a step closer, Scott’s voice is firm. “Look, I’m not a spiritual person. But I also don’t think the universe messed up with this.”

Clenching, his fists, Logan knows what the other man is getting at, but he doesn’t want to acknowledge it. Doesn’t want to think about what could have been, what he’s been too scared to even consider.

“I know you know how I felt about Jean,” Scott says quietly, knowing he’s breaching a sensitive subject. “Losing her… it killed me too. And if I had been given a chance—a real chance to be with her, to make things right—I would have taken it. No hesitation.”

Logan’s breath hitches at that. The truth is, he’s been running—running from you, from the bond you share, from the possibility of something real. 

“I’m not saying you should chase after her,” he continues. “But I am saying that you need to stop running from her. The universe doesn’t just throw things like this at us for no reason. And you know that.”

The weight of Scott’s words settle over Logan like a shroud. He knows the other man is right—deep down, he’s always known. But that doesn’t make it any easier. The fear, the guilt, the pain of losing Jean—it’s all still there, gnawing at him, holding him back. 

There’s something else too, something he’s been trying to ignore but can’t any longer: the way he feels about you, the way he’s always felt, even if he couldn’t admit it to himself. One of the first thought’s that ran through his head when his world re-erupted into colour was that, had this happened before Jean, maybe it could have worked. Maybe he could have been what you wanted, felt something real.

Scott takes a step back, giving Logan the space he needs. “Just think about it,” he says softly. “Think about what you really want. And don’t wait until it’s too late to figure it out.”

Logan doesn’t respond, but Scott doesn’t need him to. He’s said what he needed to say, and now it’s up to him to decide what comes next. With a final look, Scott turns and leaves the gym, the door closing softly behind him.

The clawed mutant stands there for a long time, his fists still clenched, his mind racing. He knows he can’t keep doing this—can’t keep tearing himself apart over something he can’t change, something he’s too afraid to confront.

But change is terrifying, especially when it means facing the truth. The truth that maybe, just maybe, the bond he shares with you is something worth fighting for. Something that Jean wouldn’t want him to throw away.

With a deep, shuddering breath, Logan finally lets his fists unclench, the tension in his body slowly ebbing away. He doesn’t have all the answers—hell, he barely knows where to start—but he knows one thing for sure: he's can’t run away anymore. Not from this, not from you.

—

You’ve now spent days in Florence, wandering through the Uffizi Gallery, marveling at the works of the Renaissance masters, and evenings enjoying the quiet serenity of the Arno River. With you, Marco. You’ve grown to trust him. He’s never made you uncomfortable, never had any intentions to take advantage of you, and knows all the best restaurants. 

But there’s always been a small, nagging doubt that you’ve pushed aside—a feeling that something isn’t quite right. You’ve ignored it, convincing yourself that you’re just being paranoid after everything you’ve been through. After all, he has been nothing but kind, always knowing the right thing to say, always showing up just when you need someone.

It isn’t until the two of you are exploring a quieter part of Florence, that the doubt flares into something more. You’re walking through an old, narrow alleyway, the kind that tourists rarely venture into, when Marco suggests you take a shortcut through a small, unmarked door in the side of a building.

“I found this place the last time I was here,” Marco says, his smile as easy as ever. “It’s a hidden gem, leads right to a beautiful courtyard. You’ll love it.”

You hesitate, something in his tone—or maybe it’s the way his eyes gleam just a little too brightly—sets off alarm bells in your mind. You’ve come to trust him though, haven’t you? You’ve traveled together for weeks, shared countless stories and laughs. Surely, he wouldn’t lead you into danger.

Still, as you step through the door, the darkened space beyond immediately feels wrong. The air is colder, damp, and the walls are lined with strange, unidentifiable equipment. You glance back at Marco, and that’s when you see it—the change in his expression. The warmth is gone, replaced by something cold and calculating.

Before you can react, you feel a sharp prick in your arm. Your vision blurs, and your body goes numb almost instantly. You stumble back, trying to push away, but your legs give out, and you collapse to the floor.

Marco looms over you, the smile gone from his face, replaced by a look of triumph. “Did you really think I didn’t know?” he sneers, his voice dripping with disdain. “You’re a mutant, and you thought you could hide it from me?”

The world around you spins as the drug takes full effect, but you force your mind to stay focused. “What… why?” you manage to whisper, the betrayal cutting deep.

“Why?” He laughs, the sound harsh and devoid of any warmth. “Because mutants like you are worth a fortune. My clients pay top dollar for… research subjects. And you, my dear, are about to make me very, very rich.”

You try to move, to fight back, but your body refuses to respond. Panic rises in your chest as he kneels beside you, pulling out a small device that looks like a portable scanner. He runs it over you, and it emits a low hum as it registers your vital signs, confirming what he already knows. You’re weak. 

“You won’t get away with this,” you say.

“Oh, but I already have,” he replies with cruel satisfaction. “No one knows where you are. And even if they did, it’ll be too late by the time they find you.”

With the last bit of strength you can muster, you reach into your pocket, fingers trembling as you fumble with the X-Men communicator that Kitty gave you. His attention is momentarily distracted as he prepares a syringe filled with a clear liquid, and you seize the opportunity. You manage to pull out the communicator, your fingers barely able to grip it. Then, with a deep breath, you press the SOS button, the screen flashing to life.

You type in the message as quickly as you can, your vision blurring even more as the drug takes hold. 

Location: Florence. 

Message: Help.

Just as you hit send, Marco notices what you’re doing. His eyes widen in anger, and he grabs your wrist, yanking the communicator out of your hand. “You little—!” he snarls, but it’s too late. The message has already been sent.

His face contorts in rage as he slams the gadget against the ground, smashing it to pieces. He glares down at you, his hand tightening painfully around your wrist. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you? But it doesn’t matter. They’ll never get here in time.”

Your strength is nearly gone, the drug pulling you into unconsciousness, but you manage one last defiant look. “You won’t win,” you whisper with the last of your energy.

Marco releases your wrist with a sneer, standing up and looking down at you with contempt again. “We’ll see about that,” he mutters before turning away, leaving you on the cold, hard floor as darkness overtakes you. 

You can only hope they—that Logan—will reach you in time.

—

The signal comes through during a meeting. A sudden, loud beep cuts through the room,  and everyone freezes, their attention immediately drawn to the source of the sound. To Kitty’s pocket. It’s the X-Men communicator, the one linked to your device. 

Logan’s head snaps up, his eyes narrowing as he recognizes the tone. He’s on his feet before anyone else can react, his heart pounding in his chest. “What the hell was that?” he demands, his voice tense with urgency.

Kitty quickly pulls it out of her pocket, her eyes widening as she reads the message that’s flashed across the screen. Her face pales, and she looks up at the others, her voice trembling as she speaks. “It’s from her… Florence… Help.”

There’s a brief pause, maybe a second long in length, and then the room erupts into a flurry of movement. 

Chairs scrape against the floor as the team rises to their feet, already preparing for action. But Logan is the first to react, his face a mask of fury and determination. “I’m going,” he growls, already heading for the door.

“Logan, wait!” Scott steps forward, blocking Logan’s path with a firm hand on his chest. 

“Get out of my way, Summers,” He snarls, his voice filled with barely controlled rage. “I’m not waiting around while she’s in danger.”

“We can’t just rush in without a plan,” Scott insists, trying to keep his own emotions in check. “We need to know what we’re dealing with.”

Logan shoves the other mutant’s hand away, his eyes blazing with anger. “She sent an SOS, Scott! She needs help, and we’re wasting time standing here talking about it!”

The rest of the team watches the confrontation with anxious eyes, knowing that things could easily escalate. Logan’s been on edge for weeks, and the urgency of the situation—of you— has pushed him to the brink. 

“Logan,” Ororo interjects, “We understand how you feel, but we need to think this through. If this is a trap—”

“I don’t give a damn if it’s a trap!” He snaps, his voice rising. “She’s part of our team! We can’t just leave her there!”

“That’s not what we’re saying,” Scott tries to reason, but Logan isn’t having it.

“Then what the hell are you sayin’?” He demands, his frustration boiling over. “Why are we wasting time when we should be getting her out of there?”

There’s a brief, uncomfortable silence, and then it’s Rogue who steps forward, conflicted. “Logan… what if… what if she doesn’t want to see you?”

He freezes, the words hitting him harder than any physical blow could. He stares at Rogue, disbelief and anger warring in his eyes. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he growls.

Rogue swallows, her eyes filled with worry. “She left because she needed time, Logan. Because things between you two… they weren’t good. Maybe she—maybe she doesn’t want you to be the one to save her.”

Clenching his hands into fists, his body is taut with tension. “Fuck that!” he roars with a fierce, protective rage. “She’s part of our team! She sent that message to us, to the X-Men, because she needs our help. I don’t care what’s happened between us, I’m not leavin’ her there!”

The room falls silent, the weight of Logan’s words settling over everyone. They know Logan is right—she’s part of the team, and they can’t leave her behind. But they also know that the situation is more complicated than that.

Scott takes a deep breath, his gaze steady as he looks at Logan. “We’re not saying we shouldn’t go after her, Logan. We’re saying that you need to be prepared for whatever we might find when we get there. She might be in a bad place, and she might not be ready to face you.”

“I don’t care,” he says after a brief pause, his voice quieter now, but no less determined. “I’m going to get her out of there. Whether she wants to see me or not, I’m not lettin’ her go through this alone.”

Scott studies Logan for a long moment, then finally nods. “Alright. But we do this together, as a team.”

Logan nods, his jaw set in a grim line. “Fine. Let’s go.”

—

Your eyes snap open, the dim light of the room piercing your vision. You’re in a large, abandoned warehouse. Your head feels heavy, like it’s filled with cotton, and there’s a dull, throbbing pain at the base of your skull. As you try to move, you realize with a jolt of fear that you’re restrained, your arms and legs strapped tightly to a chair. Panic flares in your chest, and you struggle against the bonds, but they don’t budge.

And then you see him—Marco, standing a few feet away, watching you with a smirk that sends a chill down your spine. His eyes gleam with satisfaction, and you realize with horror that you’ve been caught, trapped in whatever twisted game he’s been playing.

“Ah, you’re awake,” he says, voice dripping with mock concern. “I was starting to wonder if I’d given you too much of the sedative. But it seems you’re tougher than I thought.”

You try to respond, but a gag in your mouth muffles your words, turning them into incoherent sounds. You glare at him your eyes burning with fury.

He only chuckles, clearly amused by your resistance. “Oh, don’t bother trying to speak. We wouldn’t want you calling for help, now would we? Though, I must say, I’m impressed you managed to send that little SOS before I caught on. Clever, but ultimately futile.”

He steps closer, his eyes narrowing as he looks you over, his expression turning cold. “You know, I’ve dealt with a lot of mutants in my time, but there’s something special about you. Something… unique.” He reaches out and grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Too bad your powers won’t do you any good here. The drug I gave you should keep you nice and powerless for the foreseeable future.”

Straining against the bonds, you continue to try to break free, but he drug in your system dulls your abilities, leaving you feeling weak and vulnerable. All you can do is stare at him with hatred as he continues to taunt you.

“Such fire in your eyes,” Marco murmurs, almost to himself. “It’s a shame you’ll never see the light of day again. But don’t worry—I’ll make sure your abilities are put to good use.”

He lets go of your chin, his hand trailing down to your shoulder in a way that makes your skin crawl. “Now, let’s see what we can do to make you a little more… compliant.”

Just as he reaches into his coat pocket, presumably for another syringe, a sudden, loud crash echoes through the warehouse. The sound of splintering wood and shattering glass fills the air, followed by the unmistakable hum of energy blasts and the heavy thud of boots on the concrete floor.

The X-Men have arrived.

Marco���s eyes widen in surprise and then narrow in anger. He spins around, barking orders at the security guards scattered throughout the warehouse. “Stop them! Don’t let them get near her!”

The guards rush forward, weapons drawn, but they’re no match for your friends. The familiar sounds of battle flood your ears—Rogue’s powerful punches, Scott’s optic blasts, and Storm’s lightning crackling through the air. You struggle against your restraints again, desperate to free yourself, but it’s no use. 

Then, you catch a glimpse of Logan. He’s fighting his way toward you, his claws out, slicing through anyone who gets in his way. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, your eyes meet his, and you can see the raw determination in his gaze. He’s coming for you.

But just as he takes a step forward, something changes. He hesitates. You can’t hear what he’s thinking, but you can see the conflict on his face—the way he seems to second-guess himself, the way his steps falter. Your heart sinks as you realize he’s unsure, almost as if he's torn between wanting to save you and fearing that you don’t want him to.

In that split second of hesitation, Rogue swoops in, landing beside you with a determined look on her face. She doesn’t waste any time, using her strength to tear through the restraints that bind you. “We’ve got you, sugah,” she says, her voice steady and reassuring as she pulls the gag from your mouth. “You’re safe now.”

You nod, your throat too dry and your body too weak to speak. Your muscles scream in protest as you try to stand, but she quickly wraps an arm around you, helping you to your feet. You’re shaky, your body still reeling from the effects of the drug, but you’re free. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Logan still standing there, his eyes locked on you, his expression unreadable. He wanted to save you. He wanted to be the one to pull you out of that nightmare, but something held him back.

Rogue helps you toward the exit as the rest of the team continues to subdue the guards and Marco. You lean heavily on her, your legs barely able to support your weight, but you force yourself to keep moving. 

And when everyone else has back in the jet, hugging you and comforting you, you look over to Logan, who sits far away, on the opposite side, refusing to meet your gaze. 

—

Returning to the mansion feels like stepping back into a familiar, comforting embrace. You missed the soft, warm bed in your room, the quiet serenity of the gardens, and the comforting presence of your friends. It's been a few days since the whole ordeal in Florence, and the drug has finally worked its way out of your system. Your strength has returned, and physically, you feel like yourself again. The mansion, too, seems unchanged—still the safe haven you’ve always known.

But as the days pass, you begin to notice that while many things have returned to normal, some things have not. You’ve seen most of your friends, their faces lighting up when they see you, their hugs tight and full of relief. There have been quiet conversations and laughter, shared meals in the kitchen, and moments that remind you why this place is home.

Except, there’s one person you haven’t seen. Logan.

His absence is like a shadow that follows you wherever you go. You’ve felt his presence in the mansion—heard his voice in the halls, the sound of his footsteps on the floorboards—but he’s kept his distance. He hasn’t sought you out, hasn’t tried to talk to you, and that stings more than you want to admit.

You’ve tried to stay strong, to remind yourself of the resilience you found during your time away. You’ve reminded yourself over and over that you don’t need anyone else to validate your worth, that you can stand on your own. Yet the longer Logan avoids you, the harder it is to hold on to that strength. The old wounds, the ones you thought had begun to heal, start to ache again, and you can’t help but wonder if anything has really changed at all.

More often than not, you find yourself retreating to the front lawn. The sun is warm on your skin as you lie down in the grass, a book in hand. The soft rustling of leaves in the breeze and the distant hum of life inside the mansion create a peaceful background, and for a moment, you manage to lose yourself in the pages of your book.

Still, even here, in the sanctuary of the garden, the thoughts you’ve been trying to push aside keep creeping back in. The memory of Florence, of Logan’s hesitation, lingers like a bitter aftertaste. You replay the moment over and over in your mind, trying to make sense of it, trying to understand why he stopped, why he didn’t come for you.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t notice the shadow that falls across your page until a deep, familiar voice breaks the silence.

“I’m glad you’re alright.”

The voice startles you, and you jerk slightly, looking up to see Logan standing above you. His expression is guarded, as if he’s not sure how you’ll react to his presence. There’s a tautness to his posture, a stiffness that you recognize all too well. 

For a moment, you just stare at him, caught off guard by the suddenness of his appearance. He’s as rugged and intimidating as ever, but there’s something different in his eyes—something a tad bit softer. You close your book, sitting up slowly as you meet his gaze. The question that’s been gnawing at you since Florence rises to the surface, and you know you can’t keep it inside any longer.

“What happened?” you ask, your voice steady but filled with quiet intensity. “In Florence?”

His jaw tightens, and he looks away for a moment, his gaze shifting to the trees in the distance. He doesn’t answer immediately, and the silence stretches out between you, thick with unspoken words. 

You just watch him, waiting for an explanation, but there’s a part of you that’s already bracing for disappointment. You’ve been here before, waiting for Logan to decide what happens next, to take the lead. And you’re tired of it. You’re tired of being the one left in the dark, of being the one who has to wait for him to be ready.

Finally, he lets out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly as if the weight of the world is pressing down on him. “I… I hesitated,” he admits huskily, almost in a growl. “I wanted to save you. Hell, I was going to. But then… I didn’t know if you wanted me to.”

His confession hangs in the air, and you feel a mix of emotions—surprise, confusion, and sadness. You hadn’t expected this, hadn’t realized that his hesitation was rooted in something so painfully human.

“Why wouldn’t I want you to?” you ask softly, searching his face for answers.

Logan finally looks at you, really looks at you, and the raw emotion in his eyes takes your breath away. “Because of everything that’s happened between us. Because I pushed you away. I hurt you, and I thought… maybe you’d be better off if it wasn’t me.”

You shake your head, trying to make sense of his reasoning. “Logan, this can’t keep being about what you think is best,” you begin. “And it’s not about who saves who. It’s about being there when it counts. You were there. You came for me.”

He doesn’t have a response to that, at least not right away. He looks down at the ground, his fists unclenching, his shoulders slumping even further. It’s like he’s carrying the weight of everything he’s done, everything he’s failed to do, and it’s crushing him. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally manages to get out. “For everything.”

You stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I know I’ve messed up,” he continues. “I know I haven’t been there for you like I should’ve. But I’m here now. And if you’ll let me… I want to try to make things right.”

You know you should be happy—this is everything you’ve wanted to hear from him for so long. But it’s also too much, too late. The doubt, the pain, it can’t just disappear with a snap of your fingers.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that,” you admit. 

There’s pain on his face. “I get it,” he says, his voice rough but steady. “I know I’ve got a lot to make up for. And I know it’s not going to happen overnight. But I’m willing to do whatever it takes, if it means I can earn your trust back.”

“I need time. I need time to figure out where I stand, and where you stand with me.”

He nods slowly, his gaze dropping to the ground again. “Take all the time you need,” he says quietly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I appreciate that,” With a small nod, you stand up, brushing the grass off your clothes. “I need time,” you repeat, more for your own benefit than his.

“And you’ve got it,” Logan replies. “As much as you need.”

—

Days turn into weeks, and weeks into months. You focus on yourself, on healing the wounds that were reopened during your conversation with Logan. It feels strange, being the one who needs space, but you know it’s necessary. You find things to take your mind off him: you train more, read more, spend more time with Rogue, Kitty, or Remy. It’s nice.

But Logan… Logan doesn’t give up. He knows you need time, and he respects that. He doesn’t push, doesn’t pressure you to make a decision, but he makes it clear through his actions that he hasn’t forgotten about you, and more importantly, that he isn’t going anywhere.

It starts with the small things—things so subtle that you almost don’t notice at first. You probably wouldn’t have suspected anything if you hadn’t known the kind of person he is. He’s nothing if not persistent. He knows you better than you realize—the rift he created after Jean’s death muddling with your memory—and he uses that knowledge to quietly, almost imperceptibly, work his way back into your life.

In the mornings, you wake up to find your favorite snacks waiting for you in the kitchen, carefully placed where you’d be sure to see them. He never mentions it, never takes credit, but you know it’s him. It’s in the way he glances at you from the corner of his eye as you take a bite, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He never makes a big deal out of it—just a quiet, unspoken gesture that says, I’m thinking of you.

Then there are the late-night training sessions. You go down to the Danger Room or the gym, hoping to clear your mind with a bit of solitary exercise, only to find Logan already there. At first, you’re tempted to leave, to find somewhere else to work out, but something in his demeanor stops you. He doesn’t approach you, doesn’t speak unless you initiate it. Instead, he just… exists beside you, his presence steady and reassuring, like a rock in the storm.

It’s in these moments that you begin to see a different side of Logan—one that’s patient, understanding, and perhaps a little unsure of himself. He follows your lead, mirroring your exercises or silently spotting you during weightlifting, always attentive to your needs without ever making you feel pressured or overwhelmed. He’s just there, offering his support in the quietest, most understated way possible.

And then there are the little surprises in your room—small, thoughtful gestures that you can’t help but notice. A favorite book you’d mentioned in passing suddenly appears on your nightstand, its pages pristine and waiting for you to dive into. The time-worn leather straps on your gear are suddenly replaced with new ones that fit perfectly, the stitching unmistakably done by Logan’s hand. Even your plants, the ones you’d worried would wither away while you were on a mission, seem to thrive in your absence, the soil freshly watered and the leaves turned toward the sun.

He never asks for thanks, never draws attention to what he’s doing. It’s all done quietly, behind the scenes, as if he’s afraid that if you notice too much, you might push him away. But you do notice. How could you not?

At first, you try to ignore it, telling yourself that these gestures don’t change anything, that they’re just a way for Logan to assuage his guilt. You tell yourself that he’s just doing this because he feels bad, because he wants to make up for the past, not because he actually cares. You’ve built walls around your heart for a reason, and you’re not ready to let them down just because he’s being nice.

But over time, those small gestures begin to chip away at those walls, brick by brick. You start to realize that Logan isn’t just going through the motions—he’s really paying attention, noticing the little things that make you who you are. It isn’t just about the snacks or the books or the plants—it’s about the way he remembers the details of your life, the things that matter to you, the things that make you feel seen and understood.

After a particularly long and stressful day, you return to your room exhausted, and all you want is to collapse into bed and forget the world for a while. But when you walk in, you find a small bouquet of wildflowers sitting on your nightstand, the beautiful colors a stark contrast to the dark thoughts that have been swirling in your mind all day. There’s no note, no explanation—there never is—but you know who left them.

You just stand there, staring at the flowers, your heart squeezing in your chest. It’s such a simple gesture, and yet it means so much. You’d forgotten that Logan knew how much you love wildflowers—you’d mentioned it once, years ago. The way they’re resilient, thriving even in the harshest conditions, blooming where others wouldn’t. It’s as if he’s telling you that he sees that strength in you, that he admires it.

And it’s then, in the quiet of your room, surrounded by the small, thoughtful gestures that Logan has left behind, that you realize something. This isn’t just about making up for the past. Logan is showing you, in the only way he knows how, that he wants this. Wants you.

He's finally picked up the pieces of him that fell apart after Jean’s death, and he is willing to pick up the pieces of you that fell apart after his rejection.

So, one evening, months after that fateful conversation on the lawn, you find yourself standing in the common room, staring at the fireplace, lost in thought. The mansion is quiet, the rest of the team either out on a mission or asleep. It’s just you and the flickering flames, the soft crackling of the fire the only sound in the room.

But when you hear footsteps behind you, heavy and deliberate, you know instantly who it is. Without turning, you can sense his presence, the way he moves with that quiet confidence, the way the air seems to shift when he is near. Logan has always had a way of grounding you, even when you don’t want him to.

He walks up beside you, stopping just short of touching you, his warmth radiating in the small space between your bodies. He doesn’t say anything at first, doesn’t ask why you’re here or try to force a conversation. He just stands there, his hands shoved into his pockets, waiting patiently, giving you the time you need. It’s something you’ve come to appreciate about him in recent months��his newfound ability to just be, without pushing or demanding more than you’re ready to give.

"I’ve been thinking," you say finally, your voice soft, as you continue to gaze into the flames.

"Yeah?" Logan asks, his tone careful, as if he’s afraid of saying the wrong thing.

You turn to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. "You’ve been… different. Doing all these little things… I see them, you know."

Logan’s eyes meet yours, and for the first time in a long time, you see hope there. "I just wanted you to know that I care. That I’m sorry," he says, with so much emotion. “You were never a burden to me.”

You swallow hard. "It’s hard for me, Logan," you admit, "I’ve been hurt before, and I’m scared. Scared that if I let myself love you again, you’ll just… break me."

He steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. "I’d never hurt you again," he says, "I’d rather cut off my own damn hand than hurt you. The past is the past, and you are my future."

That’s enough to make your walls crumble completely. You know, deep down, that Logan is telling the truth. That he’s willing to do whatever it takes to earn your trust again.

And in that moment, you realize that maybe, just maybe, you’re ready to let him.

You don’t say anything. Instead, you let your actions speak for you. You close the distance between you, standing on your toes as you press your lips to his in a gentle, tentative kiss. Logan freezes for a split second, as if he can’t believe this is really happening, but then he kisses you back, his arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close, holding you as if he never wants to let go.

The kiss is slow, tender, full of everything that has been building between you for so long. It isn’t just a kiss—it’s a promise, a commitment to try again, to rebuild what has been broken. When you finally pull back, your breath mingling with his, you rest your head on his shoulder. "I’m still scared," you whisper.

"I know," Logan replies, his arms tightening around you. "But I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. We’ll take this slow, darlin’. Whatever you need."

You nod. "Okay."

Logan smiles then, a real, genuine smile that makes your heart flutter in a way it hasn’t in years. It’s a smile full of relief, of gratitude, of love—a smile that tells you that he understands just how much this moment means, just how much you’re giving him by letting him back into your heart.

—

The time that follows is a slow, steady journey of rebuilding trust. Logan is true to his word—he is patient, understanding, and surprisingly tender in ways you hadn’t expected. The small gestures continue—coffee waiting for you in the morning, a gentle hand on your back during missions, quiet moments of companionship where no words are needed.

You can feel the doubts you’ve been holding onto slowly begin to fade. Each time Logan shows up for you, each time he puts your needs above his own, it chips away at the fear that has kept you guarded for so long. It’s in the way he listens when you talk, truly listens, as if every word you say matters. It’s in the way he looks at you—not with the same fury he once had, but with a steady, enduring affection that speaks of something deeper.

With Jean, he loved her because she was his soulmate, she was who the universe destined him to be with. He loved her because that’s what he thought he had to do.

With you, he has a choice. He doesn’t need to acknowledge the bond, but he chooses to. He chooses to everyday and he’ll never stop. He loves you because he wants to, not because he has to.

One evening, you find yourself sitting on the mansion’s porch watching the sunset. Logan joins you without a word, sitting close enough that your shoulders brush. 

“You’ve been quiet today,” he says softly, breaking the comfortable silence.

“I’ve just been thinking,” you reply, leaning your head on his shoulder. It’s a simple gesture, but one that speaks volumes about how far you’ve come in trusting him again.

“’Bout what?” he asks, his voice gentle.

“About us,” you say, your voice steady. “About how things have changed. How… how good they’ve been.”

Logan’s hand finds yours, his fingers lacing through yours in a way that feels so natural, so right. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you echo, squeezing his hand. “I’m not scared anymore, Logan. Not like I was.”

He turns to face you, his eyes searching yours. “You sure?”

You nod, smiling softly. “I’m sure. You’ve shown me that this bond means something to you, that you’re not going to hurt me. And… I want this. I want us.”

Logan’s face lights up with so much love, that it takes your breath away. He leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “I’m glad, darlin’. Because I want us too. More than anything.”

—

It isn’t long before the rest of the X-Men begin to notice the change in Logan as well. At first, it’s subtle—small things like the way he looks at you during briefings, or the way he seems to be more patient, more relaxed when you’re around. But over time, it becomes impossible to ignore.

During a training session in the Danger Room, you’re paired with Logan for a simulated mission. The others watch as Logan moves with you in perfect sync, his focus not just on the mission but on you—making sure you’re safe, supporting you when needed, and trusting you completely. It’s a far cry from the Logan they had seen when he was in mourning, where his moves were rash and careless.

After the session, as you and Logan leave the Danger Room, you catch sight of Ororo and Scott exchanging a look, the kind of look that speaks volumes, full of surprise and a touch of amusement.

“What?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as you approach them.

Ororo smiles warmly, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Nothing, just… noticing how good you two are together.”

Scott nods in agreement, his expression softening as he glances at Logan. “Yeah, it’s… different, finally seeing him like this. In a good way.”

Logan shrugs, but there’s no hiding the small smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. “What’re you guys talking about?”

“Just that it’s nice to see you happy, Logan,” Ororo says gently. “Really happy.”

Logan looks at you then, his smile growing as he meets your gaze. “Yeah. It is.”

More members of the team begin to notice the change in Logan as time goes on. Rogue, who has always had a soft spot for him, comments on how he seems more at ease, less burdened by the weight of his past. Hank, ever the observer, points out how Logan’s demeanor has shifted—less brooding, more open. Even Charles, who has seen Logan through his darkest times, pulls you aside one day to express his approval.

“I must say,” Charles says, his tone warm and approving, “I haven’t seen Logan like this in a very long time. Whatever you two have managed to sort out, it’s working.”

And it is. Slowly but surely, the wounds that had once held you back have healed. The doubts that had kept you from fully embracing your relationship with Logan have faded, replaced by a deep, abiding love. It isn’t just the little gestures anymore—it’s the way Logan makes you feel seen, heard, and cherished in a way that no one else ever has.

—

“I never thought we’d get here,” you admit one night whilst looking up at the stars.

Logan looks at you, his expression tender. “Neither did I,” he says, his voice full of sincerity. “But I’m damn glad we did.”

You smile, leaning into him as he wraps his arm around your shoulders. “I love you, Logan. And I trust you. Completely.”

His grip tightens slightly, as if to hold onto the moment, to hold onto you. “I love you too, darlin’. I never thought I’d feel this way about someone.”

You know what he’s trying to say. So without thinking, you reach up and cup his face, drawing him closer until your lips are just a breath away from his. “Show me,” you whisper, your voice low and filled with desire.

He doesn’t need any more encouragement. He closes the small gap between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that is soft at first, almost tentative, as if he’s savoring the feel of you. 

You can feel the heat between you building, the kiss growing more fervent as your hands roam over his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt, then into his hair. Brown. 

His hands slide up your back, one hand tangling in your hair as he angles your head, deepening the kiss further until you’re both breathless.

When you finally pull back, your foreheads resting against each other’s, you’re both panting, your hearts racing in sync. His eyes are dark with desire, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he holds you close.

“You’re everything to me,” he murmurs. “I never thought I’d get my happy ending, but here you are… and I’m never lettin’ you go.”

You smile, feeling the last remnants of pain melt away, replaced by a certainty that this is where you’re meant to be. “And I’m never leaving,” you whisper back, sealing your words with another kiss that quickly reignites the fire between you.

This kiss is hungrier, more urgent, as if you both need to make up for lost time. Logan’s hands roam your body with a possessiveness that sends shivers down your spine, his touch igniting a fire in your core.

That night, you lose yourself in him, in the way he tastes, in the way he makes love to you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world. Because this time, you’re not just in love—you’re in love with a man who loves you back, fully and completely. 

And that makes all the difference.

----

a/n: i love you if you made it this far. please check out my new series The Feeling's Mutual

[power-handmaiden]

Day 302: Eaten Right By The Physical Manifestation Of My Pride And Excitement That The Lead Character Of My First Traditionally Published Horror Novel Is On The Autism Spectrum Just Like Me

First off, this is another tingler I can link you to! I wouldn't call it a "free" tingler like some others because Dr. Tingle is asking for a donation to the Autistic Self Advocacy Network on this one. (They're a great organization that does great work, you should follow the donation link if you're able!)

I want to first mention something Dr. Tingle says in his notes on this one, not something in the tingler itself: "most of the characters i write are probably a little on the spectrum because they are comin from inside chucks head."  So... having read almost every tingler up to the beginning of 2023 now, this is something I've thought about a lot but only remarked upon a couple times. It's something that becomes even clearer to me when we get an explicitly autistic tingler protagonist because, in the context of tinglers, she fits right in. She's a very normal protagonist. That isn't the vibe of  most autistic characters in most media, but in the Tingleverse, she's your regular relatable main character. Simply seeing how much she fits in reminds me just how neurodivergent the beautiful Tingleverse is.

(Maybe a neurotypical reader would find other tingler characters' autistic traits easier to see on their own, not by comparison like this, and also worth mentioning more often? I don't know. I don't know if there are even any neurotypical people out there reading this many tinglers. Don't ask me, I'm the guy who delights in updating their tingler spreadsheet.)

Anyway, it really complements the message of this tingler, the way the protagonist feels so right as a part of the Tingleverse. It's natural that she feels proud, despite all the anxieties she has over the publication of her novel. I'm glad Dr. Tingle captured this joyous moment, in this story that also makes readers who relate feel like we're taking part in the celebration, too.

[chocochococoffee]

I saw your post asking for cumplane prompts and I couldn't resist giving one:

Fusion au (ala steven universe) where SQQ and SQH can only fuse with one another because fusing with anyone else would reveal them as transmigrators

yayyy thanks for the ask! i did a fanfic for you. its short tho. iis doneeeee but i cant really link it since android tumblr is shit and aint letting me hyperlink. i hate it

https://archiveofourown.org/works/57639514

here

-----

Sometimes Shen Yuan felt that he was thrown inside a nightmare. Airplane called it a fanfic, but didn't call his bro out for being wrong. Gemstones here, alien attacks there, the world the System had for them wasn't Proud Immortal Demon Way anymore. 

Where to start, though? Oh, from the Very Start.

PIDW was meant to be a stallion xianxia. Cheap, easily sellable, you could add whatever bullshit and people would eat it with gusto because Magic Chinese Bullshit solved all problems, no matter what Cucumber would say against it. Now... whatever this world had instead was a mix of intergalactic/sci-fi with some touches of modified xianxia for whatever meaning cultivating could have in their now very touchable, colourful cores. What was this, Land of the Lustrous? Cang Qiong sect itself felt like a direct ripoff outta it. There was no buddhist father of the sects in their mountain though, just a lot of rowdy humanized stones polishing themselves to perfection. Sometimes they polished each other with dual cultivation. Airplane cackled madly when Shen Qingqiu had furiously mentioned it to him, skin dark green in embarrassment. No matter how edited, the core (haha, geddit?) was still the same.

For being a modified xianxia, now that their cores had become actual gems a lot of their training had become a lot more literal. Tangible, even. Airplane decided that it was easier than all the soul and aura bullshit he had written eons ago.

So yeah. Gems. Literal aliens running the whole mountain, training humans (it wasn't the case for every sect, though) and other gems for polishing into immortality. Of course the head figures of every house would have to be gem people, most of them coming from pure lineages. According to some history books, gems had colonized their plane centuries ago. Something about the quality of the soil and the nice fauna.

Airplane had called bullshit on that, he knew it was because of the specialized porn.

Fusion they had called it, the process of becoming one with another gem, the act of purest feelings that would result in a better, stronger core. 

Fusion could also be done within humans, for some reason. He had guessed that the trace minerals inside the alien gems were very accepting of the chelating qualities of the organic complements in humans.

As a result, everyone wanted to fuse. Forget dual cultivation, it was the actual Goal of the gems. It was part of all sects training, it was a required step for perfection.

And everyone could fuse and de-fuse. They could do multiple fusions too! Fusion threesomes, foursomes, maybe more! 

"Do you really believe in that bullshit?" Shen Qingqiu had asked Airplane, now Shang Qinghua, while drinking, while lazing and acting unmannerly outside of every eye put on him. While relaxing in front of the only one who could see him really relax. "Is fusing really a step to happiness?? Today even my own students are asking me why I don't do fusions with anyone in Cang Qiong. They are asking me if I am broken."

Shang Qinghua knew from where those words came from. He had been the one who warned Shen Qingqiu of what fusing really meant.

He had done it once when younger, and he had broken his partner's mind.

They couldn't take all the information inside Airplane's mind and soul. Two lives were too much for a person, even more if they had the information of the world itself.

And yet...

"Not gonna lie to you bro, I do like the idea of fusing. Even Qingge has benefited of it - I believe that it can work miracles sometimes. Just... not with us. Fucking system doomed us sexless." He took a sip of his own baijiu. Tasty shit. 

"Fusionless."

"Whatever, it feels like sex."

Shen Qingqiu had known of his only experience. It had broken him to see that he was unable to participate on one of the best features that the PIDW fanfic they lived in had to offer.

"Your Only sex experience, you mean." 

"Whuh? You come here to call me out while drinking my wine? Pfwuh, you ungrateful child. At least I Have fused once, you are still a Green Sapling compared to Me"

"Well I AM green! And this is bullshit."

To follow the design, Cucumber was also a gem. It was an implicit requirement to be the head of a sect in Cang Qiong. He, though, was not what Shen Jiu had been. 

Everyone knew of the new Shen Qingqiu proud stone, a malachite that had grown from his chest in needles towards his shoulders and neck, a problem not only made his skin get greener shades whenever his emotions ran too strongly but also that required lots of tailoring attempts thus ending with sluttier clothes, making him shine through the hallways of the sects quite literally. He didn't really know how his core had evolved from an olivine to a malachite, their compositions were different, no? And Shang Qinghua had been the only one who knew of the peridot on Shen Jiu's chest, the knew he had guarded and hid all his life, a secret that not even Yue Qingyuan knew at all.

Bullshit world. Bullshit System restrictions also.

"But no, I didn't come here to 'call you out', you swine. I came here with a proposition"

"Whoa, this is new. Are you feeling too alone without Binghe, now?"

"Binghe has nothing to do with this! It... it is more about my. Our. Uh. Our mental health. I was thinking that maybe we could try fusing? We are two people in the same conditions and I thought that maybe the restrictions that affect others shouldn't affect us... wait, what is with that face??"

Qinghua sweated, the astonishment making him acquire an orange tone. "How many cups of baijiu did you drink?? I am not trying anything unless you are sober -- I am sure sober Cucumber wouldn't even try to touch me unless to hit me with your fa-- ouch!" He was hit with Qingqiu's fan.

"I am Not Drunk, Qinghua, I have just started my second cup. My opinion will not change, also, I am telling you -- agh, you are right, this may have something to do with Binghe after all. Today Mu Qingfan even tried to recommend me some fusing to Take my mind out of my Binghe's 'demise' and... you know, it has been one year since I had to thrown him into Jue Di Gorge... Medicines aren't making any effect right now and you heard me, I may be kind of desperate, though, If I am asking this to you so... can you try to listen to me once without being an ironic piece of shit??" 

And sure thing, all that sentence had been acidic as fuck but the pain clad under that was veridic.

For mental health huh... 

"Cucumber bro, you know how this means much more than just treatment, right?"

"I know"

"This also means you will have to understand me, within the fusing bonds and outside of them. You will have to treat me well if we are agreeing to it, even if its just to Try."

"Yeah I will... I am willing to try."

Airplane cackled. "Try?? God, you really are unromantic, you little shit. Go drink some water, let the alcohol flush away first. If I am going to try fusion sexing with you I will not do it with baijiu on the body."

"Hey, I am taller than you!!" But he obeyed his instruction without retaliation, and Airplane thought that may be a start.

When Airplane fused for the first and last time it had been with his roommate, a promising An Ding prospect which meant he was also a tired and hopeless kid with great abilities in math. He had been funny and ridiculous, and also a human. 

He was now six feet under and Airplane excelled in math as a memento of their last dance.

Now they had written their own goodbye letters to their peers and friends, if anything went wrong.

"The best way to start a fusion is by dancing."

"I know, there are many types of courtship dances and Qing Jing teaches more than twenty of them. In my last life I had two left feet and now look at me, master of dances I will never use."

"Oh, not even on me, bro?"

"If you are like me we wouldn't even sync if it isn't something from the modern world, our world."

True that, plus Airplane still had maintained his two left feet from his other life. An Ding never cared to teach them things as frivolous as that, confident on the innate abilities of their own students to learn on their own. Something that Qinghua had planned to change in a near future, of course all depending on how the Binghe domination trope went.

"Got any plans, Cucumber bro? I may have stayed in this world for too long, my mind is already a bit hazy..."

"Hmm. What about Caramelldansen?"

"HELL, NO"

"Gangnam Style?"

"You want us to fuck or to laugh until a heart attack!?"

"Language!"

"Meanie. Hmm, what about Let it Go?"

"Are you kidding me?"

"You know the choreography? I do."

"... of course you would"

It took them a few tries, and they didn't know the choreography as well as they had memed in their own original lives, but they, in time, learnt that the best way to fuse was when in sync with the other, and if it had meant them to be embraced to each other while laughing, it was enough.

"Shizun, what does this mean??"

If the whole of Cang Qiong had taken their reckless union and odd choice of partner with dismayed eyes and mean suspicion, Binghe had been on top if that mountain. Three years training in the underworld had felt like a millennia, and it may as well have been that amount of years considering that coming back may have meant that An Ding and Qing Jing had fused as their leaders had not only become an extremely stable gem, but also decided to keep fused longer and longer. Chrysocolla may have been an invention born two years ago, and may the citrine sparkles shine oddly on their black and green eyes, but the happiness they radiated may have been depicted in books as the bright blue-green colour that made their own robes and hair.

Even when separated they had changed each other, Shen Qingqiu's core turning into what looked more like Azurite, and Qinghua's secret Citrine core changing into various forms of Agate.

"Shizun, are you really happy this way?" Binghe had asked Shen Qingqiu while suddenly missing his green spikes. His new blue robes may not mix well with Qing Jing altogether but it couldn't that it was a beautiful colour.

"Mm, I may be? Now I know many things that I didn't before." He had smiled, finally satisfied. He now had all the information that even Qinghua had reprived to himself and the rest of the world in his mind, thing that became even more ckearer when together, and Qinghua had now someone who loved him and his inventions near. Qingqiu himself had learnt to love his real life inventions too, he could even pass Mobei-jun and see what Qinhua adored in him, too. That was a funny thought, but he had two years of unlearning and relearning new things, enough to be more accepting of what their future could be.

"You think you can convince Shang Qinghua if I can join you?"

If he had fused with Qinghua for that reunion he would've surely not sputtered his tea. That was a certainty.

[vechter]

ok. just read batman and robin: year one (2024) #1 and my initial takeaways:

this was thing that surprised me the most. it's only been three weeks since mary and john fell? and dick's out as robin already? he seems to have limited training but that could just be how he's being written as an eager and somewhat impulsive kid.

there's a part of me that is wondering if there is an element to this where dick is putting on an act, because we get a couple of references to the mask versus person debate:

bruce's narration is extremely well written, especially this part, where you can see just how much he understands the grief of being orphaned and how much of that grief and rage still drives you:

sidenote: the art is stellar!!! like just look at how beautiful gotham looks here. chris samnee killed it. it's exactly what i want out of a robin!dick comic.

like this is soooo good, even when it's just shadow and light contrast. truly outstanding art.

love the element of dick flipping around as he talks— it is very true to his character. also love how you can see the beginnings of how sharp and intuitive dick is.

beginnings of bruce and dick banter!! big fan of bruce already being aware and impressed with dick's comfort and ease at heights. a little bit of uncertainty about how much of this is dick's relative crime-fighting inexperience and how much of it is the unfamiliarity of fighting alongside bruce. like it has only been three weeks!!! very accelerated timeline. has he warmed up to bruce that fast?

waid's definitely not shying away from how they're new as a crime-fighting duo and it's going to take them a while to get to that seamless partnership we all know and love. just look at these:

bruce being so effusive with his praise for dick... yeah that's that good shit. plus, we're getting some insight into how much they're still learning each other. also the colour palette here is amazing. the tone complements the events itself soooo well. love how they're being juxtaposed against the light like that.

it'll take a while for them to find their footing! but you can already see how much bruce worries. the panel in caps, with that overt and expressive body language... yeah, i love it. listen, i love a bruce wayne who has only known dick grayson for three weeks and is already beginning to show signs that he's never going to be normal about him:

mixed feelings on two-face as their first rogue but i do trust waid to do it right. there's a bigger evil at play so i'm definitely intrigued. the art for harvey was amazing as well.

bruce smiling here... hmm. some mixed feelings about this too mostly bc of how the accelerated the timeline is. like dick has seen his parents killed, apprehended the killer, probably been updated about gotham and what kind of city it is... so for him to have this much optimism about the stakes. but at the same, he did meet bruce, a good man who took him in and brought him justice. and ultimately, he is a child so maybe that optimism isn't out of place.

possibly, waid is building up to the dark and light element of batman and robin? also, look at dick's sad n droopy lil face aw man

anyway, this seems like a really good expository issue. i'm definitely invested. there is a bit of tonal dissonance (between what is said and what is being depicted) but i'm willing to give the benefit of the doubt here. good, true-to-character writing (although the art is the biggest selling point for me)

[andiftheycare]

Stsg au where overworked salary man Suguru doesn’t need more problems in his life, but alas there’s someone — or maybe multiple someones, who knows — who keeps stealing his umbrella every time he goes to buy his lunch/after work drinks at the konbini next to his office.

Which at first is, well, annoying.

It’s typhoon season and he might miss the last train because his umbrella is gone, and he has to ask the cashier if they have more umbrellas in stock because of course they’re all sold out when he looks for one in the aisle. It’s end of day — okay, it’s past 11pm — and it’s pouring outside.

So they manage to find a new umbrella for him, Suguru pays the cashier those 500 yen (internally cursing the thief) and goes on with his life.

Except that it happens again. And again. And again.

Suguru starts to keep a stash of coins in his drawer in the office because the occurrence it’s now a routine, and because there aren’t other konbini in the area that are as conveniently located nor that serve his favourite bento box.

Changing location isn’t an option.

Except that of course Suguru is not always lucky. Sometimes umbrellas actually sold out. Day after day, the pained part-time worker gets more and more confused on why this is happening only to Suguru. No other customer is affected.

“You could keep your own umbrella with you instead of leaving it in the rack?”

“It’d mess up the shop floor.” Suguru says, tired, and the part timer nods slightly, scratching his pink haired head. “Besides, I don’t see why I shouldn’t put it there. I’m not the one at fault here.”

“I’d offer to let you look at the security tapes but the umbrella rack is in a blind spot.” He sounds apologetic. “My manager would kill me if I were to move it.”

Suguru had met his manager, a guy called Sukuna that seemed more fit to run a local Yakuza gang than a couple of connivence stores, so yeah, he wouldn’t want to put the part timer in any tricky situation. It’s just an umbrella.

It doesn’t matter that he ends up walking drenched into his meetings, or covering under the konbini’s canopy until the rain calms down in the evenings, or living with a perennial running nose.

He wonders if there is some karma involved. Did he do something to be targeted by all the umbrella thieves in the prefecture? It’s a punishment for a past life where he mass murdered a village?

Whatever. He doesn’t believe in those things anyway.

Until. He’s smoking in front of the store, air wet and fresh, and he shouldn’t lit anything there, really, it’s way out of the store smoking area, but Suguru’s so tired he feels it in his bones, in the lines of his muscles. It’s all encompassing, at times, that type of tiredness, to the point it’s a struggle wake up in the morning, to process thoughts and emotion outside of business calculations.

Mostly, thought, it transforms him into a crueler version of himself. One that, deep down, only craves a long night of sleep.

“Geez, you look awful.”

Suguru blinks slowly. He stops playing with his lighter - which flame is struggling to re-lit the cigarette, Suguru’s hand covering it in an attempt to keep it alive - and looks towards the voice.

There’s another man.

He’s wearing a suit in a way that would send any HR rappresentative into a coma. His style is unfazed by company regulations, crinkled and complemented by a lopsided tie. His hair are white which, itself, it’s at least breaking four of his company contractual clauses on bleaching your hair.

Under the white background of the konbini’s neon lights, his eyes are a shadowed blue.

Those, Suguru thinks, can’t be real.

“And, well, clearly you can’t talk? But it’s not a first, I’d let you—“

“Who the fuck are you?”

The man purses his lips. They’re pretty, like the rest of him, but Suguru hasn’t felt like kissing anyone in a long time, so the thought is passing and feeble.

“Mate, I was trying to cheer you up. You look like you need it.”

Why is he speaking so informally to him? Is this man insane? Suguru patience wears thin when he works over hour. “You have a weird sense of humor.”

“I’m Satoru,” he said, and Suguru frowns at him.

“I’m not calling you by your first name.”

The man pouts at him. He’s tall — taller than him, taller than Nanami, — and build in a way that weirdly makes Suguru wonder if he could take him in a fight. This is how he knows he’s losing it.

“So formal.”

“So informal” he spits back, letting go of any hope of getting nicotine in his body.

The man - Satoru, although thinking of a stranger in those terms is too intimate for his liking - tilts his head and cracks a smile “it’s part of my charm.”

Fucking no.

“If you’re hoping to—“

The automatic doors of the shop slide open, the familiar welcome song of the konbini chain announcing an extremely self satisfied part timer. He waves an umbrella at Suguru “Geto-San, I found one!”

The white haired man raises his eyebrows, and repeats “Geto-San?”

Suguru doesn’t dignify that with more than a scornful stare.

“It’s an old one, Kugisaki found it in the back of our changing room. It’s been there forever so I think can keep it.”

“Eh? Nobara has never been so precious about me getting wet.”

The boy directs his attention to the man, and it’s suddenly clear they know each other. “I don’t think she likes Gojo-sensei as much.”

There’s an audible gasp, a quick change in demeanour that makes him look comical and reminds Suguru of those animes Nanako and Mimiko watch on the weekend while having breakfast.

Suguru doesn’t listen to whatever conversation passes between Gojo and Itadori, staring vaguely at his new umbrella, dread sinking into him as he thinks of his long train home, of how maybe he’d manage to sleep four hours if he’s lucky. Of how he’s waisting his precious time there.

“Well,” Satoru says, eyes glistening with mirth as he lays them on Suguru. “I guess we’re not sharing an umbrella to the station then.”

It lands as a joke but Suguru isn’t sure this man is joking.

“Yuk,” Itadori says. “That’s very romantic of you, sensei”

“Whatever,” Suguru says, and opens the umbrella. He’s not gifting this man more of his presence.

“Next time,” Gojo says, but this time he’s weary of Itadori, and leans in Suguru’s personal space as he steps on the rain. Water falls on Gojo’s shoulders, staining his shirt, and his voice’s low, his tone promising nothing good, “Maybe I can help you loosen up a little?”

Gojo’s grinning and Suguru hasn’t been hit on so hard in a long time. He’s flirted at often, and he likes to flirt back, see the power his words have on people, how easy it is to have things his way if he plays along. He knows the rules of that game, where not to cross the line.

Yet. This man just has.

He regards him with a brief stare. There’s a vague picture forming in his brain of what this Gojo would look like on his knees, pretty lips around his cock, and Suguru recoils.

It’s wrong. It’s so vivid you’d think he’d actually seen Gojo sucking a dick before. And he hasn’t and doesn’t want to. Suguru’s better than that, more centred, so his stomach doesn’t churn at the idea.

Maybe it has been way too long. Maybe he needs a fuck, although he rarely — if not never — feels in the mood.

He waves at Itadori. Then, whispering, he parts from Gojo with a “Fuck off.”

Suguru doesn’t think about him as he drags himself home, checks on the girls, and lies down in his suit, sleep taking him in seconds, alarm ripping him away from the quiet peace of his night in what seem like few minutes.

He wakes while it’s still dark outside, still raining.

At lunch, Suguru does what every sane person in his predicament would do. Umbrella in hand, he marches to the konbini’s printer, tapping away on the stickers design options.

He prints a curse.

Surely, he could’ve been more creative with it. And if he was to listen to his inner voice, he would’ve been more violent. Instead, he prints out:

Stealing will turn you into a frog

Childish. Appropriate for a childish thief.

He sticks it on his umbrella’s handle, and leaves it in the rack. Wonders if he’d end up with a frog on his hands.

End of… part 1???? Sorry I just wanted to write a stupid au hc and this happened???

So this is now also on Twitter here because I thought it fitted as a threadfic?? We’ll see.

PART: 2, 2.2, 3

[nqmonarch]

happy valentine's day!! <3 honestly anything for aventurine is fine, probably like what are your thoughts about him?

Happy very belated Valentine's day! I hope yours was wonderful anon!

Anyway I think my thoughts about Aventurine are uh... definitely out there. Normally when I write stuff I like to read the character's little lore things and read over character's quotes to make sure I'm depicting them well but Aventurine doesn't have much of that and my overall thoughts on him are straight up just my thoughts which are...

Aw he's baby :). I can't take him seriously x.x like I feel like under that haha let's gamble it all away front he is both terrifying but also so weak and vulnerable. Like I want to hold him in my arms and tell him he has meaning but at the same time I think he may be some kind of masochist (hot), I don't know he just gives off those vibes he's like "use me, as long as it's fun." Like okay man.

Aventurine is both the most and least predictable person you've ever met. His existence itself is like a gamble you can never tell what will come next, will it be the cocky and confident Aventurine edging you on to take his carefully laid out bait? Or would it be the pathetic Aventurine hiding beneath the surface of all his actions who's begging to be comforted?

He acts so nonchalant for someone that cares so much. It was the only reason you still tolerated him. You also cared about Aventurine but he didn't need to know that. He also didn't need to know about the lengths you went to in order to keep him out of trouble.

The two of you getting together was a miracle in itself. Because Aventurine would've never asked you out seriously. He would've teased you about it, and about your lack of a partner. Maybe he would've made a bet or two to make you hang out with him on a date. But he was too scared of commitment to give it a label.

Of course he would be scared of commitment when everything he's ever had, he's lost and everything he's gained isn't his own. How else would he be able to gamble everything he knows to be true so easily? It pissed you off to an extent, and made you hesitant to commit. What if that fucker used you in a bet? He probably wouldn't but everything with Aventurine was a gamble.

So one day after the idiot had almost gotten himself in trouble, only to be saved by his luck, you had angrily grabbed him by his neck and pressed him against the wall.

You were fine with him betting nearly everything from millions of credits to rare items. He wasn't allowed to bet his life though. Not when you were around. Because his life was yours. You wouldn't let Aventurine die.

Through an unorganized and incoherent train of thoughts you tried to express yourself to Aventurine and at first he teased you,

"You really care about me that much? You're a better friend than I thought you would be, how useful!"

But as those thoughts straightened out more into a heartfelt confession he began to quiet and freeze. Maybe if this was a game to him he'd be able to maintain his light hearted facade but you hoped you meant more. You'd known him for a while after all, and better than anyone else.

Aventurine, struggling to articulate his thoughts, only nodded at the end. Then you kissed him. His lips were hesitant against yours but his hands gripped onto your arms tightly, refusing to let go. He didn't want to seem desperate, he didn't want to seem like he cared, but the silent plea of his arms wrapping around you spoke words.

For the most part he acted as a complement to your personality. When you didn't go after him, he went after you always in an attempt to sweep you off your feet unexpectedly. When you went after him, he'd lay still and let himself be attacked unable to defend himself as a blush rose up his neck to his ears and cheeks.

A serious relationship was something new for the both of you. And given how Aventurine acted, and how you struggled to explain your emotions, the two of you ran into communication issues often.

But despite it all the two of you made it through. After all how can one better express love than saving the other's life?

Aventurine had foolishly bet his life again, this time for some inconsequential thing. The two of you had been talking to a new "friend" of his, that ended up having ties with your past. As such they'd managed to come across some minor family heirloom of yours and for some reason trying to barter with it for information.

You could've cared less but Aventurine for some reason took the bait. Inviting this "friend" to a gamble, in which if he won then he would receive Aventurine's life and assets something you thought to be overly dramatic. If Aventurine won he'd receive the heirloom and the information you'd actually come here for, the information that would allow you to blackmail the government of this planet into giving into the IPC.

Aventurine managed to lose, but it's not like it mattered. Since your bullet was through his "friend's" head in the next second. As he died you registered a small clicking sound and shielded yourself and Aventurine as the body exploded. Really? What a pain.

"The IPC will work even harder to get you killed if they know about this," You couldn't help but mutter, a frown on your face, "Is there anyone left we can contact for this?" Aventurine still had more contacts than you unsurprisingly.

Failure was always met with death for people like him.

"You want to talk to more people than me?" He spoke with mock offense and before you could retort he held out some papers, "He was useful until the very end." He joked and you frowned.

Your voice was beginning to raise in anger, "Did you have to go ahead and bet your life?"

He took a step closer, the documents disappearing, "You made the opening for me. Come on, don't be mad," His voice was coy as he grabbed your hand in his.

You didn't like it when he bet his life. If he was going to take such poor care of himself then his life would be safer in your hands. Aventurine had already begun to lead the way to your next destination and your eyes rested on him, analyzing every detail. They continued without pause until they found his neck, you wanted to cover that barcode on his neck up with bites.

When you got back to the hotel room you were staying at you found the heirloom resting on the bed, and you let out an aggravated sigh. "That bastard... I told him I didn't care about it." And you didn't but you opened up the music box nonetheless and a tune began to play out.

A few moments after it began you felt arms wrap around you and hot breath on your neck. You closed your eyes and leaned into Aventurine, "Your life will always be the most important thing to me," You spoke softly.

He stiffened and then relaxed, "That's a terrible decision."

He was annoying. Hard to communicate with. He was also always a gamble, you could never predict him. But he kept life interesting, he was interesting, and amusing. You didn't want such an adorable person to die.

Maybe one day the two of you would be able to have a completely serious conversation but that'd be a while, and for now you were content with the man that loves you who you love back.

Aventurine trying to avoid affection like an insect avoiding rain drops but you're a motherfucking tsunami.

I CANT BELIEVE I FINISHED THIS IT WAS SITTING IN MY DRAFTS FOR SO LONG

I started it like a week after I got it and then had writers block on what to do but anyway yeah this is my take on ya boy Aventurine. He's kinda pathetic but I'm into that.

[demigoddessqueens]

Hiii, how are you? If your requests are open, could i please get one with connor kenway and a latina reader? Maybe about them sharing their culture with each other, like her teaching him Portuguese or Spanish while he teaches her parts of his traditions? Please ignore if your asks aren't open.

Have a nice day/night!

(Ps:could i maybe be the 👩🏻‍🌾 anon?)

Awww this adorable 🥰 🥹 Connor is such a sweetheart he’d be eager to learn everything!!

And of course you can be the 👩🏻‍🌾 anon!! 😁

Masterlist 10

You two are so different from each other but complement each other at the same time

While you can be a bit more easy-going and talkative to others, he’s moreso by your side just admiring how friendly you are

LOVES when you cook for him!! The spices, flavor, memories behind your dishes are all valuable to the young man

Sometimes Asks Miriam and Norris for advice if they can help him

Learning languages with each other becomes a love language in of itself

If you like to dance, he’ll entertain that side of you as well. Mostly just as an excuse to hold you close in his arms

Calling each other affectionate nicknames in each other’s respective languages

If you have an accent, Connor just feels weak in the knees whenever you’re talking, especially when you say certain words

[frostbitemutt]

some general yandere javier escuella hcs pleaseee

First request, nice.

Yandere! Javier Escuella hcs

!WARNINGS!: Gender Netrual darling, Yandere trope, forced relationship, possessive behavior, obssesive behavior and thoughts, murder, violence, stalking, kidnapping, manipulation

Main Traits

:|Possessive/Protective/Manipulative/Smothering|

✹ Mr.Esculla, previously a notorious bounty hunter, revolutionary, fleeing from his home country why? For killing a high ranking government official over a woman. Now an outlaw roaming America, wanted dead or alive in both countries. That's who you've unintentionally caught the attention of.

✹ I'm going to assume baseline here that you're part of the gang. Dosen't matter too much if you joined before or after him, he'll latch on either way. Over time, you'll naturally get to know each other, it's kinda hard not to. From minimal interactions, to a well formed friendship. I don't see his obsession coming about if you two have only had a couple chats

✹ As stated above, when his obsession sets in, it expresses itself through him displaying more possessive, protective, manipulative, and smothering behavior. Along with a few others. Those are simply the most blatant ones.

✹ His possessiveness shines through when you're out and about. Interacting with other folk. People that aren't him. Javier? Oh, no, he don't like that. Harsh glares at townsfolk who stand a bit too close, a swift death to drunken bastards who leer at you, and long drawn out deaths to any potential crushes or lovers you got.

✹ In a sick way he thinks he's protecting you. Keeping you distant from certain camp members like Micah, Arthur, maybe even John. Especially as the chapters go on. The drunkard he drowned? He would have tried to attack you. Stalking? No, no, no. You have it wrong. He's making sure you're safe. You don't know what's good for you.

✹ All just another way to manipulate you into falling for him. Trying to coax you into seeing him as more than a buddy. You trust him don't you? You'd believe him over the others right? He's done so much for you. He'd never mean you any harm. He just wants what's best for you. Some other members of the gang.. they don't care as much as he does. So just stick with him alright?

✹ He's big on smothering you with his attention. Purring out complements to see how you react, akward attempts at flirting, giving you fancy pocket watches he found, offering to upgrade your weapons for you, and getting you new clothes. Then if you allow it, he'll lean into you, pull you into half hugs, a resting hand on your shoulder, or full hugs that linger for a bit too long. It's very obvious to any bystander that he's smitten.

✹ Of course he'll stalk you, like a lot of yanderes do. He'll sit near your tent, watching you sleep, maybe even steal a thing or two. Not limited to clothes, hair, and jewelry. If you're a real heavy sleeper he'll just sit right beside you. Prodding and poking at you oh so gently, enough to where you won't stir. Itching for some kind of contact.

✹ Let's say now hypothetically you attempt to run, leave the gang, or just cut contact with him in general. Once again the reason dosent matter too much, could be you found out his behavior, you wanna leave outlaw life behind, or you sided with Arthur and John during that final showdown.

✹ That? Running from him? That's not gonna go over too well. He isn't one for letting go. He's almost insulted really. After all he's done for you? The loyalty he's shown you? Yeah, no. You're staying with him. Wether you want to oe not.

✹ His bounty hunting experience really shows, tracking you down by any means, shoe prints in the dirt, horse hoof prints, questioning around town, and just suspecting where you'd go. Inevitably he finds you. After a short tussle, or none at all if he sneaks up on you, you're being tied and tossed onto the back of his horse.

✹ Now, generally he dosen't hurt you. He tries his best not to be too harsh with his handling of you. He dosen't like seeing you hurt. If you got a dollar for each time he's gone ballistic at an odriscoll or cop that managed to get in a hit on you during a shootout, it would be enough to go to Tahiti.

✹ The one exception is here, you trying to part from him. He'll cause you injury if it means halting your plans. Nothing too severe. Of course. He isn't trying to kill you here. That'd kinda ruin the whole thing.

✹ You can complain all you want, shout at him, cry. His mind is set after you've tried to run. Don't worry though. It'll be just you two now! Off to start a new life together in Mexico. No more Arthur. No more Dutch. No more gang. No more Pinkertons. Just you and him.

[queervocasongtourn]

Queer Vocaloid Song Tournament: Side A, Round 1

Please listen to all songs before voting!

Shama by NILFRUITS feat. VFlower

VS

Zero Talking by Harumaki Gohan feat. Hatsune Miku

Propaganda under the cut!

SHAMA

"extremely potent yearning, the powerful dynamic of safety in disguise but a dangerous freedom in truth, beautiful characters…what more can you ask for?"

"if i am being completely honest i dont actually get everything that happened in shama - that can be left to all the other people who are more knowledgeable about nilfruits songs than me and immediately thought of submitting this - but I immediately thought of this song because its so SO good. the song itself is incredible and the mv adds on to make it an even greater work!! i might not know all of shama's story, but what i do know is that shama's a fantastic song regardless and i'll go crazy whenever i hear it. and i also do know that clay and kalmia (especially clay) are some great lgbtq+ rep in a vocaloid song!!! the section from 2:00-2:36, when accompanied by the mv, is maybe one of my favorite moments in any vocaloid song. what follows is also great! as propaganda i am begging the reader to go listen to shama with the mv if they haven't. i don't want to explain it because i don't entirely know how to but they're fucking gay and i really like how the mv shows this!"

"sapphic 👍👍"

"Okay so this one is kinda hard to explain but the MV is some flavour of queer for sure. Just… watch it and you'll get what I mean"

"a femme-fatale prisoner and one of her guards have a doomed romance..! the mv is by wooma, who uses a graphic colour palette to complement nilfruits's addictive guitar melody. this song is also the first in a series, so if you're interested in the prisoner's backstory, you can watch the other works to find out more :-)"

ZERO TALKING

"tbf most harugoha songs are so #yuri but this one has an actual kiss. royalty x maid childhood friends who have drifted apart over the years and the royal lady (unsure of her english title, in japanese shes just named daireijo) desperately wants to just Talk to her dearest maid dorothy again but can't get anywhere with it (hence the title). In the final chorus of the MV she has enough and kisses dorothy on the lips. They're referred to as "sisters" sometimes but this is a reference to the classic catholic school yuri trope where an older girl will take in a younger one as a "younger sister" and they have a sort of romantic friendship going on. They're like definitely not actually sisters it would make no sense. It's such a good song. the bass in it is really good. please listen to harumaki gohan"

"despite the sister term scare that happened when the mv first came out this mv is about a princess and her maid who used to be friends and i believe grew apart and the princess is trying to reconnect with her friend. also first harumaki gohan mv kiss iirc!! the song is also just a brainworm in general i looped it so much it was stuck in my head for months"

"The song is about a girl who has a strained relationship with another girl, and who wishes for things to go back to the way they were (the maid doesn't talk to her anymore). The use of "sister" is also not literal, instead being a term found in yuri to describe a relationship between women (often shorten to S/esu), as well as the comparison between the two girls and the story of orihime and hikoboshi, as well as the fact they literally kiss in the song. I don't know if you can really deny it with that."

"this was in my head for weeks and weeks after it released!! the mv really makes it, the surprise near the end is so cool"

"😳"

"ZERO TALKING TALKING TALKING .Harumakigohan is the king of vocaloid yuri rn but oh my god first on-screen kiss in his songs!!! For a cute song about a princess trying to win back the affection of her childhood friend now employed as a head maid at her castle. just listen to the beat and tell me u are not enthralled. the lil "pop" noise in the song when they smooch is adorable. the song is so catchy it's ridculous i just hit that shit on loop."

[daily-rayless]

15 Years of Minako

It's time for another character appreciation post – the last of 2024 – and we've come down almost fifteen years to the day for a very, very special character. I first played Persona 3 in 2008, and I enjoyed it, but it was in 2009 when Persona 3: Portable was announced that my interest in the game rocketed up through the roof and into the stratosphere. Because, guys -- we were going to get a female protagonist.

September 2009

I don't know what my earliest art for Minako/Hamuko/Kotone was, but this is the earliest I could find. She had no canonical name yet. Her game hadn't been released in the States. As you can see, I wasn't even quite sure what her hair was supposed to be doing back there. But I was still excited.

December 2009

I've talked before about why having a female protagonist matters so much to me. The short version is that in an ideal world, where male protagonists weren't such a continuous majority, maybe it wouldn't; but that world doesn't exist, so it does matter, it matters to me. Minato has always been a fairly take-him-or-leave-him character for me. Minako? I was into her before the game was even released.

March 2010

I was intrigued by her design, her bright red eyes, her fluffy curls, the way her vibe was so different from Minato's. And, actually, her vibe is somewhat at odds with the game itself. P3 is a game of sad blues and sickly greens and grungy reds. Minako is all bright reds and pinks, tropical orange, soft yellow, warm brown. They could have taken the easy route and just done a gender-flipped Minato, a blue-haired girl, quiet, rather closed-off and antisocial. They didn't. They gave us someone new, somehow who visually contradicts the status quo.

September 2010

And, once I played the game, I saw that not only was her design very different, she had a different personality – different dialogue choices from Minato, a different mood. As far as the major plot points went, she did the same things as Minato, but she felt like her own person, not a gender-flip. She does change the status quo. You can diverge from Minato's narrative in some small but significant ways, but even if you choose not to, playing as Minako still feels different from the original version.

December 2010

And, miraculously, playing the game lived up to my own dangerously hyped expectations. Getting new insights into the female members of SEES without the tropey baggage of being a male hero romancing them; Social Linking the male members while getting the option to romance them or not. The original Persona 3, with Minato, is a great game, but Minato had to romance all of the girls and he couldn't even Social Link the guys. Minako's route gives you a deeper, broader experience when it comes to the core cast.

February 2011

Her being female adds nuanced conflict to her rivalry/friendship with Junpei, brings introspective weight to Akihiko's protectiveness, complements rather than undercuts Yukari's attempts to assert herself and not be dependent like her mother. Mitsuru doesn't have to step down as SEES' chagrined leader and cede her authority to this new boy – she cedes it to another girl. Tropes can be done badly or well, and these aren't inherently better than Minato's route, but Minako's tropes are often less typical, thus they feel more original – thus, to me, they're more interesting.

May 2011

I want to make clear that while I prefer Minako over Minato, I'm not arguing she's the better character or should be the default. And I'm pausing to say this because, unfortunately, ever since Minako first arrived on the scene, she's brought her own tension to an often already combative fandom.

December 2012

“She's not canon!” You used to hear that. As if the protagonist of a game that had been made and published and could be played wasn't canon. “Yeah, but she's not really canon!” It felt like there was a push within parts of the fandom to devalue Minako as a character, delegitimize her.

February 2013

Unfortunately, it feels as if this attitude is somewhat shared by Atlus itself. While Minako got a game route, a stage play, and is featured in promotional art, her absence in the Persona 3 remake is glaring. I'm not sure what I think Atlus is trying to say by omitting her, if anything. I'm just so disappointed that Minako's route, the route that gives you the most variety in plot points and character exploration for the main cast, wasn't deemed worthy of remaking.

January 2014

Minako, that brave, funny, smart, defiant protagonist, wasn't deemed worthy.

January 2015

Like many silent protagonists, Minako's a character open to a lot of interpretations. Broadly speaking, the game allows you to pick dialogue options for a reserved Minako or a more forceful Minako. But whichever way you go, if you've played the game, you know she's a character with pain buried deep inside her.

November 2016

Her fandom, her specific fandom, often sees her as a girl who smiles and sparkles and fights to cover that pain. Looking at Minato, you wouldn't be surprised to learn he's troubled. But Minako will make you believe she's confident and happy for a very long time until something breaks that illusion and you realize there are secrets in that smile.

August 2018

Minako is passionate, enduring, stubbornly brave.

October 2022

But she's not canon, right?

June 2023

She's not really a character. She's just a theoretical scenario Persona played with briefly, then discarded.

September 2024

Too bad for us.

[theamityelf]

(Undead AU Masterlist)

Not to suddenly kick down the (not even closed) door on this AU, and I don't even know how canon this idea will end up being to the AU in the long run, but I was just thinking, and I'm not sure if this counts as body horror or gore, but uh...

I kind of want Makoto to get seriously, permanently injured, taking care of his classmates.

Like, the thought I had was, one of them bites his finger off.

(It has to be one of his classmates, for the angst.)

Bonus points if it's after he's found out about Nagito killing reserve course students.

Makoto's class is getting rowdier and more feral, because he hasn't been accepting food from Nagito, so they're stuck with whatever animals he's able to hunt. And even running himself ragged for hours at a time, it isn't enough. They're all hungry. It's two weeks until the next delivery from outside, and they're hungry. He brings in a crane, they pick it clean in no time, they're all still hungry. (He's hungry, too.)

But that isn't when it happens.

(That would vindicate Nagito's human-hunting a little too definitively.)

Eventually, he finds a spot on campus where he hasn't hunted much, and animals still show up there. He's able to bring back enough for everyone to eat a decent amount.

It's a long walk from the classroom, but he can do it, if it keeps them fed.

They get irritable when he leaves, especially now that he's been staying out longer, but he has to do it.

There are a lot of ways it could happen. Maybe he's trying to get a bone out of someone's mouth before they choke. Maybe someone is trying to eat something rancid. Whatever the case, he's doing something that would normally be reasonably safe for him, but his friends have been so on edge (and maybe his reflexes are dulled by hunger and exhaustion) and he gets a finger bitten off.

(It has to be someone other than Junko who does it. I'm thinking Byakuya, Sayaka, Leon. Someone he's close to, who will feel really bad about it.)

Makoto cries out in pain, and the classroom just devolves into chaos.

Nagito gets a frantic knock on his door, which he hurries to answer.

Hina doesn't even wait for his surprised look to settle; she just picks him up and runs back with him.

Nagito's heart is pounding, as he wonders what could have happened. Makoto must be hurt, for Asahina to be this frantic.

(Because he was grabbed so quickly, he wasn't able to shut the door behind himself. Fuyuhiko, Mahiru, and Akane follow Hina. Peko follows Fuyuhiko. And a few others just escape; he'll have to find them and herd them back later.)

No one has escaped the 78th class's room, despite having the opportunity.

He can't see Makoto at first, but he can guess where he is. Ogami is definitely protecting something, not letting any of her classmates near it– even Kirigiri and Togami, who are making genuine efforts to get close.

Asahina sets Nagito down, and he hurries past Ogami (She allows it.) to find Makoto curled up in a corner, barely awake and bleeding from what remains of his finger.

He's lost a lot of blood.

Nagito hurries to the classroom first aid kit. The part of him that isn't alight with panic manages to feel grateful that Hope's Peak saw fit to complement his pre-existing knowledge of first aid with more specific information on treating major injuries like this.

He needs to stop the bleeding. He needs to clean it. (Already, too much time has passed without anything to prevent infection.)

Even just taking hold of the hand that lost the finger gets pained sobs out of Makoto. Handling the injury itself is miserable work for both of them.

Even so, it takes Makoto alarmingly long to register that he's there. He's already partway through bandaging him by the time eye contact is attempted.

"Hey," Makoto says hoarsely.

(It's maybe the second or third time they've spoken since he found out the truth. Their last interaction wasn't hostile, but it was strained.)

"Hey," Nagito says. Then, "No, no! Stay awake. Don't pass out."

It's really bad for him to lose this much blood. Nagito knows he hasn't been getting enough food. It's amazing he's been keeping his class fed.

Makoto whimpers as Nagito keeps bundling the injury.

"I'm sorry," Nagito says. "I know it hurts, but I can't just leave it as is."

"It's okay," Makoto says. "Don't be scared." He sounds delirious. Not entirely present.

"Stay awake. Keep talking. How have you been?"

"Missed you. Um, did you see my finger, or did they swallow it?"

"I don't know. I hurried right over. Regardless, no one here knows how to reattach it."

"I know. I've just...never not had it before?"

Nagito smiles despite himself. "If I see it, I'll be sure to save it for you."

"Thank you. Thanks, Nagito."

The fact that he said it twice makes Nagito slightly misty-eyed, which isn't normal for him at all. "Of course. I'll take care of everything. Don't worry at all, okay?"

"I'm okay. Just need a little rest."

"No. Just sit here. I'm going to bring you something to eat. Mahiru, make sure he doesn't pass out while I'm gone."

Mahiru's path to them is momentarily blocked by Ogami, but the kouhai subsides after a sufficiently stern look from the former.

"I'll be right back." Nagito cups Makoto's cheek with a bloodstained hand. "Just wait here."

[notademon10]

Kris has a crush on Susie and I can prove it

GREETINGS, I HAVE COME WITH KNOWLEDGE THAT I WOULD LIKE TO SHARE.

First of all, my goal is to demonstrate that Suselle ISN'T the only ship that's being built up, but Krusie aswell. (That doesn't mean that Suselle doesn't have any evidence)

WHERE THE HELL DO I BEGIN????

Evidence

To begin with, when you give Susie Tea to Kris, they'll get a 120 heal, with extra dialogue, which is as follows:

S: STOP LOOKING AT ME!

R: (They seem into it.)

This is very interesting, since not only is it the tea that heals the most to Kris, it also implies that they are 'into' Susie, which has romantic connotations.

Of course, this isn't everything, because the Susie fight has some secrets in there as well.

When you have the 'option' to fight Susie in Scarlet Forest, if you wait long enough, the heart will move by itself and choose Let's not fight for a split second. You can actually see it on ANY playthrough if you look closely.

In the fight, there's an act you can do with either Susie or Lancer, which says Anything, and if you click it for the first time on either of them, Kris will complement them over how their hair flows in the wind. If you do this on Susie though, she will say 'Really?...Shut up and fight!' Granted, this isn't very solid, as Kris will say the exact same thing to Lancer.

There's ALSO the fact that after the Spamton NEO fight, the game makes a point of the fact that Kris wants to be hugged by Susie, not Ralsei.

I would also like to mention Poppups, of all things... One of the many interactions Kris can have with them is 'You unconsciously clicked on a popup about "monsters 4 humans" "in your area"

This shows that Kris is romantically interested in monsters. Perhaps they already have a crush?

NOW I BEGIN WITH THE MINDFUCKERY: KRIS' RED SOUL MAIN TRAIT: Love

We KNOW this is the case because of Papyrus. In one of his phonecalls for Hotland, he says: "MAYBE L STANDS FOR LOVE"

Undyne: "But isn't love supposed to be FIREY RED?! Like a cartoony human-heart?

Then, they talk about how Undyne turns people's hearts into green.

And, well, all the main human's souls have been exactly that: firey red cartoony human-hearts. Which is very interesting, because the only times they go out of our control is when they have to do with either Susie, or when they show their FIREY RED EYES, after all- they ARE the window to the soul. In fact, at the end of ch 2, when Kris takes out the soul, the first thing they do is look at Susie in front of her, before doing all the weird things they do.

Conversely, the only time when we can completely control them is in the weird route, which has connotations of a toxic romantic relationship (remember the ThornRING?). After all, LOVE can mean two VERY different things.

This also means that the red soul can't be the player's soul, as they are just as likely to be Love than Perseverence, for example.

AND FINALLY: THE SWEEPSTAKES

This is important because in new girl, Kris takes a bite of the already bitten apple by Susie, which could be interpreted as planting an indirect kiss. There's also the fact that Kris never tells their mom about Susie, showing that they don't want her to get punished. And how could I forget about the very mysterious thing they said to her that somehow managed to get under Susie's skin? I honestly don't have a solid answer for this, but I just mentioned this just in case.

End

And that's everything, I think? This post was originally going to be about Susie's own crushes, but the evidence for Kris' crush on Susie was so unfathomably big this HAD to be it's own post. I just hope I made you think about the relationships of these characters a bit more. I would also like to add that I have more theories in my head that aren't just shipping, so if you want more, let me know by reposting and liking. Consider following as well. That's all.

PS: I MADE A PART 2!!!!

[blackcherryvelvet0909]

History Repeats Itself (Diasomnia Centric; Lilia & Sebek)

Pairings: Lilia & Baul, Lilia & Sebek, Sebek & Epel, Sebek & Deuce, Deuce & Epel, Sebek & Jack, Epel & Jack, Deuce & Jack, Sebek/Reader (MC/Yuu) implied

Content Warning: Mild spoilers for Chapter 7 (Diasomnia chapter), romantic implications, physical attraction

Note: This is a slight interjection to the Beach Episode series and others. I've been experiencing burnout due to current life circumstances and I'm trying to get back in the groove. Listing the pairings separately cause there's not exactly a main one here. Thank you to those who are currently supporting me, and to those who reblogged my emergency commissions post. It's very much appreciated. I wish I could hug you all. I hope you enjoy the fic in celebration of Chapter 7 beginning in the EN server <3

The townsfolk parted as the soldiers made their way through the town square and out of the capital. The castle loomed not too far behind them; if one looked closely, they could almost spy a feminine horned figure briefly watching them go before disappearing from one of the grand windows. At the head of the small battalion was the Phantom General, Lilia Vanrogue: arguably the army’s most fearsome warrior. One either eyed the man with fear, respect, longing, or some combination of those. Those gazes were cast to his other comrades as well, though not as noticeable. Lilia had grown quite used to the ogling now. He couldn’t tell you whether or not he liked such attention, however. 

The man that walked beside him, Baul Zigvolt, was another fae that commanded respect - unspoken and spoken. Though the times he demanded that respect were often to rowdy new recruits. Despite his booming voice and towering figure, the man was all bark and some bite. Baul put on quite the show, but he was a bit softer than the general nearly two heads shorter than him. You could never say that to his face unless you were honorable Vanrouge, however. Commander Zigvolt would surely bite your head off otherwise - figuratively. 

There were other sides to the man and his loud mouth, ones only known by those who fought alongside him. Like the fact that it seemed his hunger knew no bounds. Some days he could eat his entire body weight in food - maybe a bit more if he’d gone a day or so with minimal sustenance. When you spent days upon days, weeks upon weeks, sometimes even months, with the fae, you got to learn much about him. There were little things only the most keen could pick up on, though. One of those quirks made itself known to the observant Lilia as he noticed Baul step away from him and slow his pace. Lilia raised a brow as he glanced back to see just where the commander had wandered off to - the question was quickly answered. 

It appeared Baul didn’t even notice he’d lagged behind. He was oblivious to the puzzled looks from his fellow men-in-arms. His eyes were solely focused on a fair maid a small several steps away. She busied herself sweeping the stoop of a small shop, one Lilia knew to sell food and other goods one needed to live. Either the fae lady worked at the establishment or owned it; Lilia doubted she was sweeping the stoop just in good nature. Her hair was tied back in a braided bun, a few baby hairs wisping about her forehead and behind her pointed ears as she worked. The dark green of her dress complemented her pale skin, that dress and black apron framing her figure perfectly - her curvaceous figure. 

It looked like Baul had the good sense and decency to try and keep his gaze away from her curves, the way her body moved, but he just couldn’t. Paired with the way his pale green orbs seemed to almost sparkle when he beheld the rest of her visage, the soldier was absolutely mesmerized. So much so he didn’t notice that he was heading straight for a wooden beam that held up a little trinket stand in the center of town. Lilia said not a word. An almost wicked smile tugged at his lips as he simply watched the fae slowly but surely come up to the beam, then smack right into it with a loud ‘WHAM!’ The look on Baul’s face when he realized his blunder - the thought of holding back his booming laughter nary crossed the general’s mind. 

The bellowed cackle startled more than one individual. Nearly all eyes were on the general and his commander: the former who was almost keeled over in hilarity, and the latter whose pale skin was now glowing red. Some were frightened by the spine chilling laughter, while others began to laugh and giggle along with him - but a lot quieter. Whoever would have the courage to try and outmatch Lilia Vanrouge in anything was a fool. No one knew that better than the soldiers who’d come to a brief halt to witness the little spectacle. Once frozen on the spot, Baul quickly, yet mildly clumsily, regained his composure. He ignored the pain that radiated through his face and forehead in favor of trying to save his image. 

At the same time, Lilia and Baul spared a glance back at the little maid. She, too, stared at Baul, yellow eyes wide with a mix of confusion and surprise. It looked as though she’d stopped mid-sweep, as she held the broom mid motion. Baul quickly turned away from her, clearing his throat more times than needed be. Lilia held his smirk, crimson eyes cut to Baul like daggers, though this time they held no ill intent - only mischief. Commander Zigvolt ignored him as he continued marching on, a bit faster than before. Lilia matched his speed, and so did the other soldiers as they followed after him. 

When they finally passed the gates of the city and trudged out into the vast forest surrounding it, Lilia began his relentless teasing. “Pretty little thing, wasn’t she?” he asked Baul, rhetorically. “Very soft-looking, too. A stark contrast to your figure, to be sure.” Baul silently nodded. Lilia persisted. 

“Her biceps were particularly plump, from what I could make out. Very endearing.” Though Lilia was nowhere near close enough to whisper in the man’s ear, Baul heard the suggestion loud and clear. “Were you thinking about grabbing a nibble before we headed out?~” 

“NO!” While every other soldier jumped in surprise at the outburst, Lilia didn’t flinch. His smile only widened into a grin as his eyes narrowed deviously. “It is far inappropriate to even suggest that! Of all the indecency-!” Baul seemed to catch himself yelling. He took a deep breath in, held it for a few seconds, then exhaled. 

“Lil- General Vanrouge, please refrain from making such suggestions again.” His next words - a plea - came out as a hiss. “I beg you.” 

Lilia feigned ignorance and shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not sure what you’re on about. The lady runs a grocery, or at least works in it, doesn’t she? I simply thought you wanted to grab a spare ration before we departed.” 

Lilia could see the gears turning in Baul’s head. For a moment, it looked as though he actually believed him, almost ready to apologize. And then the next he saw through Lilia’s rouse and glared down at him. “It is uncouth of a man in your position to lie.” 

The general huffed in amusement as he glanced to the side and scanned the area to his right. “Again, no idea what you mean.” 

“You’re impossible,” Baul grumbled. 

“And you’re thinking about that woman being in your arms right now,” Lilia retaliated. 

Only a fool would challenge the general to a duel.

Fool, thy name is Baul Zigvolt. 

***

“HOW DARE YOU MAKE SUCH AN ACCUSATION!” Sebek’s voice boomed, bouncing off the high ceilings of the hallway. “YOU THINK ME SO UNCOUTH, SO CRUDE, AS TO ACT IN SUCH A WAY?!”

“‘M jus’ callin’ it like ah see it,” Epel replied, a thoroughly amused lint to his words. “Fer someone so high ‘n mighty, ah didn’t think you’d ogle the prefect like that.” 

“I WAS NOT OGLING THEM!” Sebek protested, louder than before. “I…I simply was distracted by how audacious you humans are! To see the prefect address our upperclassmen so casually - no respect whatsoever!”

“I think they’ve come to respect each other equally, due to [Name] helping them out with their overblots.” Deuce adjusted his hold on his textbooks, which were now tucked under his arm. “I mean, they don’t refer to them by name yet, aside from Kalim, but I’ve seen a change in their interactions.” Deuce smiled at the thought. “Either way, I’m just happy they’re all doing better.” 

“Yer tellin’ me,” Epel agreed. “Vil’s been on my ass less since he got over his overblot. Think that’s in part thanks to the pre- [Name].” He scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry, still tryin’ ta remember it’s fine to call them by name, not the stupid title.” 

“Hmph.” Sebek smirked. “Quite a thing to believe; I can’t say I’m surprised. You humans are the species with the least respect for others. You could not even begin to comprehend what such titles command.” 

“Oh, shove it up yer ass, Sebek!” Epel groaned. “Gon’ punch ya in the face one of these days, ah swear!” A devious grin then spread across Epel’s face as he thought of something. “Oooor ah could just tell them you got a crush on ‘em~” 

“A WHAT?!” Sebek balked. 

“Y’know, a crush,” Deuce offered. “It’s when-”

“I KNOW WHAT IT IS! WHAT DO YOU TAKE ME FOR, A HUMAN?!” Ironic, since the prince the freshman so worshiped was one of the most oblivious boys on campus. Sebek shook his head in denial of Epel’s accusation. “You would be telling the prefect falsehoods, human. I hold no such feelings for them.” 

“Uh huh, surrrre ya don’t~” Epel drawled. “Definitely not - not when ya stare at ‘em all the time every chance ya get.” Red began to flood Sebek’s cheeks; Epel noticed, grin widening as he continued. “Not when ya carry the books and bags and whatever other shit they got whenever ya walk with them. You especially don’t like ‘em when ah catch you smilin’ whenever they thank-”

“I WILL LISTEN TO THIS SLANDER NO LONGER!” Sebek interjected, again loudly. His face was as red as Deuce's magestone, however. The one who watched them knew it wasn’t just out of embarrassment and anger. “IS THERE NO END TO YOUR HUMAN-?” 

“Oi!” The freshman stopped in their tracks, and Sebek stopped his scolding, as they all turned to look at the beastman suddenly before them. “Keep it down! You’re going to give me and every beastman in the building a headache!” 

Sebek was more embarrassed now than he was before. He huffed as he closed his eyes and turned his head away from Jack. “Apologies.” 

Jack rubbed the back of his ear as he winced. “Almost had to run to the infirmary,” he grumbled. 

“C’mon, let’s go.” Deuce cut in. “We’ll be late for class if we don’t get moving.” 

“Least this time we’re all in the same period,” Epel mumbled as the little group turned the corner and headed down the adjacent hall. 

The unnoticed eavesdropper behind them smiled to himself as he watched them go. He shook his head as he let out a small chuckle at the boy’s, Sebek’s, antics. “Just like your grandfather,” Lilia regaled to himself. The fae finally let his footsteps be heard as he walked down the hall, then rounded the corner into the one going in the opposite direction of the freshmen. “At least you haven’t slammed into an obstacle - yet.” Emphasis on ‘yet’ as the boy was still young and had plenty of time for such fumbles. One often found themselves in them in the throes of love, especially at the early stages. 

Sebek’s grandmother would no doubt agree.

[beautifulsnake2162020]

Rambling Fan Review of the donghua Heaven Official's Blessing (English dub)

I just need to ramble for a bit after finishing the entire series (PLEASE TELL ME THERE IS A SEASON 3!).

Quick Quick review version: I LOVE IT even if I didn't read the novels yet. Highly recommended.

Quick review version: Why is this so underrated?! Would me fangirling about it make Season 3 to arrive faster? I GET THE HYPE NOW!

Actual review/rambling:

So just to be clear on a few things so that everyone is on the same page:

I deliberately chose the English dub once I saw it was an option because my brain needs to rest from all my academic readings and it was too tired to read the subtitles;

There is nothing professional about this review - it's just me writing all my feelings after crying on the closing montage of season 2. Considering that I was emotionally crying on the closing montage of Season 1, I don't know why I'm surprised at myself for doing the same on the Season 2 montage;

I read some spoilers from the wikia pages because I want to know if Hualian gets a happy ending or if I have to write one for them;

I am horny for James Cheek's Hua Cheng voice;

Having said that I am so impressed with his vocal chemistry with Howard Wang's Xie Lian. When I read the novels (when life finally allows me to do so), their voices will be the voices in my head for Hua Cheng and Xie Lian;

I watched some of Kictor's videos on TGCF , specifically this video but I stopped at around the 12 minute mark since I was confused at first midway on the first episode on who was supposed to be Xie Lian's love interest. I initially thought it was going to be a love triangle with Xie Lian being fought over. I was impatient and I needed to know just the background details. I can confidently say that I think this video helped me in clarifying some things and I think the emotional reveals still work;

I am very aware that there were certain scenes that needs to be changed because of China's censorship laws and that the novels have more leeway;

A part of my brain is already making outlines for fanfiction for Hualian; and

The most important point - It is okay to disagree with me. This is just my opinion on what touched me the most while watching the story unfold.

Okay now to the fangirl rambling:

As I type this to the youtube loop of Red Supreme by Hu Xia I've got a lot of positively emotional feelings.

I LOVE how their love story unfolds. How they save each other and they complement each other so well.

I especially love how the story within itself shows why Hualian loves each other even though they may not expressly say it but it is so obvious from their actions to each other and their internal monologue that we are given every now and then.

Season 1 is about showing that Hua Cheng's reason for existing is his love for Xie Lian.

Season 2 is about showing why Hua Cheng's feelings are from genuine love for Xie Lian.

If anything their love story teaches an important lesson: Hope doesn't have to be perfect to be effective.

At the start of Season 1, everyone in Heaven has given up hope on Xie Lian being nothing more than a waste of space who has the audacity to ascend three times and it seems like everyone except Ling Wen who after informing him of his debt because of the damage his latest ascension caused was able to help him get a task to quickly get more credit to pay off the debt (to be honest I still don't really understand the currency of Heaven but maybe that's kinda the point that the story is trying to make in that in a place supposedly of paradise this should be ridiculous. Mortals believing themselves reaching heaven will grant them freedom only to be subjected to the current system in place). And it is this little piece of hope that leads him to Hua Cheng who is the very proof that he has managed to greatly affect someone by giving them hope when they wanted to give up. Xie Lian may think later on that he might have said something ridiculous but to Hua Cheng who wanted to commit suicide, his very existence is the hope he needed to change his perspective on life and it is because of Xie Lian telling him to make him the purpose of Hua Cheng's life that Hua Cheng finally got to live. Even if now he is a ghost, from the brief time he actually truly lived life, that experience showed him what are the things that matters the most. And him achieving greatness in the form of being one of if not the most dangerous calamity that Heaven had to face. So much so that he has killed 33 Gods and has gained a reputation of being someone who is essentially the God killer. He did all of this because Xie Lian saw him in a time when no one wanted to see Hua Cheng, much more help him. This is mirrored in Ban Yue who kept the hope that Xie Lian gave her when he shared with her his dream of saving the world. Something he is later embarrassed about but it was enough for her to do her best to change things, even when it involved the massacre within the city walls. And once again this is shown in Lang Qianqiu to whom Xie Lian was a mentor to (I forgot the word they used for mentor but you get what I mean), when he taught him that it is not the royal family but the people that makes a nation thrive and this lead to Qianqiu leading a peaceful reign and united the nations of Xianle and accomplishing what several others had hoped for.

And this is where these relationships begin to act as a foil to show why the Hualian relationship works.

Ban Yue was misguided and did not have enough experience to trust in herself to know the difference between right and wrong and the subtly gray area in between. While influenced by Pei Jr, she also isn't wrong for saying that she also had some responsibility. But she thinks that the beatings she took in her afterlife is her penance for what she did on that day. It was self-destructive because while she may not say it out loud a part of her feels like she deserves to be treated badly after what she has done. And it was only after they saved her - that she begins to start moving on.

When Xie Lian started to become a God that was hated, he was also self-destructive and feeling like maybe he did deserve it. It was during this time that Hua Cheng still in his mortal lifetime declared that he will never forget Xie Lian. While this may or may not have influenced Xie Lian into moving on from any past mistakes, we do know that he may have not confronted any negative feelings enough that he still has a mental breakdown when the truth is revealed to Lang Qiangqiu. And so Hua Cheng provided Xie Lian that space and person to not be alone while confronting these feelings and thoughts all the while also reassuring Xie Lian that he is not a bad person for what he has done.

Speaking of being viewed as a bad person, we also come to the flaw of Lang Qiangqiu's perspective on Xie Lian. Both Lang Qiangqiu and Hue Cheng admired Xie Lian for saving them and wanted to be like their savior. But there is a difference: Lang Qiangqiu despite having more interactions with Xie Lian as his student, grew up idolizing him so much that he did not notice that the image he made of Xie Lian in his head is either a savior who could do no wrong or the traitor who killed his family and all of their lessons and experiences together were lies so that Xie Lian could kill his entire family. This simplistic reduction of Xie Lian which had carried out even in Lang Qiangqiu's life as a martial God, is not the true Xie Lian who was somewhere in between. Seeing him as nothing more than a savior prevents him from thinking of the times when Xie Lian was the killer rather than the savior. And seeing him as nothing more than a traitor would make him blind in the things that Xie Lian was genuinely trying to teach him to make him better than generations before.

Meanwhile Hue Cheng only had a few but significant interactions with Xie Lian that doesn't simply reduce Xie Lian as either one or the other. He knows enough to know that Xie Lian is altruistic and would do anything that would make the world better. Whether that was disrupting a procession in his honor to save a bandaged child from being killed from a fall or what seems to be the massacre of the Yong An royal family with only the heir remaining, he knows Xie Lian has enough reason to do the things that he did, though he may not know all the facts of the story. And to talk with the God he loved when said God was feeling hopeless and was in despair because people now hate him and are destroying his temples made Hue Cheng realize that even Gods feels remorse, upset, tired, and hopeless. I think this is the moment that Hue Cheng truly becomes devoted to Xie Lian. I forgot who in the Hualian tumblr community said it but I have to agree that this very human moment of Xie Lian being in despair is the catalyst in Hue Cheng's life to be the person whom the God he loves could turn to when he needs support from someone. And what better support could a God have than the most devoted follower that would become the most dangerous and notorious Ghost King among the four calamities. Him being a ghost is also the very thing that ensures Xie Lian continues to exist. These two interactions he has had was enough to not paint a simple picture of Xie Lian in Hue Cheng's mind which allowed him more than Lang Qiangqiu more contemplation on Hue Cheng's part on who the actual Xie Lian is while also allowing room to get to know him more.

Add this to how he is disgusted by how Heaven is for allowing Xie Lian to be taken for granted and which made him realize that beneath the beautiful veneer it is still a system which seems to hinder rather than actually help both Gods and mortals alike - being the most powerful and dangerous Ghost to warrant being a threat to Heaven truly was the best option for Hue Cheng.

And I know this has already been said but it is beautiful that even now in the early stages of their relationship both of them wants to be there for each other. Xie Lian was always there in some form or another for Hue Cheng and Hue Cheng is always there for Xie Lian no matter what disguise or form he takes. They both complement each other's weaknesses. Xie Lian tends to overthink and sometimes doesn't allow himself to truly feel because of his religious sect. Hue Cheng while also calculating tends to take action more because of either efficiency or boredom. Xie Lian apologizing to Hue Cheng for giving him half-truths and thinking about the damages he caused while Hue Cheng apologizes for wounding Xie Lian was so beautiful in that they both love each other to think they deserve retribution from the other when it is so obvious they want their relationship to be repaired.

Hue Cheng is the one being that Xie Lian could truly be himself with and Xie Lian is the one being that keeps Hue Cheng living even though he himself is no longer mortal. And that is such a beautiful love story.

[v-tired-queer]

So You're A Queer Kid and You Spot a Fellow Queer In Public: A Very Quick Guide Because I Have Class in an Hour

I just saw (and reblogged) a post talking about how queer kids will all too commonly approach a fellow queer person in public and unfortunately, are putting others--and themselves--in potentially dangerous situations, not to mention just straight (*snorts*) out uncomfortable. So I got to thinking, "Did . . . did anyone teach the baby gays how to interact with fellow queers in public . . . ?" because, lets face it--technology is advancing, and weather you think it's a good or bad thing, that doesn't change the fact that culture changes with it, especially for kids, teens and young adults. Even language changes for them, like it did for us (I do, in fact, use Vine Language, but I have no idea what drip, rizz or cap is, and at this point, I'm too afraid to ask).

So, queer kids: first of all, hi, nice to meet you! I--a demiflux lesbian--know it's exciting to meet or see another queer person in public, outside of the internet, but remember: safety comes first. So, as stated in the title, here's a quick guide to interacting with other queers in public.

Don't: Assume Anything

Seeing a patch on a jacket or dyed hair and a lot of piercings doesn't always indicate that that person is queer. Maybe they're an ally and wearing the patch in solidarity with a loved one, or maybe they just like alt fashion. Of course there's every possibility that this person is queer, but remember that looks =/= sexuality or gender identity. I'm absolutely positive that you've passed by or met a lot more queer people in public than you realize because a lot of us don't "look" queer. For example, I'm fem presenting and wear a lot of floral print dresses, heels and makeup--a lot of people assume I'm straight (which, rude.) So remember, looks won't always tell you if someone is also queer or not.

Don't: Ask

You know that policy that the US military had called Don't Ask, Don't Tell? Basically, it allowed queer people to enter the military but only on a hush-hush agreement--higher ups didn't ask, and you, as a queer person, didn't tell. Unfortunately, being in public spaces, it's kind of like that. The world just isn't as safe as we'd all like it to be, so we have to be careful. That means not asking someone their sexuality or gender identity in public, where others could hear. If the wrong person overhears that conversation, it could trigger a whole host of bad situations for everyone involved.

Not to mention, it can just be plain uncomfortable. Not every queer person wants to be approached about their sexuality or gender identity. Use your discretion. If someone looks like they really don't want to be approached, respect that.

You also want to be careful about accidentally outing someone. If someone is out with another person, but has a pin on their bag, that doesn't always mean that that person knows about the other person's presumed queerness. For example, when I was a young girl, my mom took me into the city, to buy some new clothes. I used to have a pin with the pride flag on it on my bag, but I wasn't out to her yet. Someone flat out announcing my sexuality to mom because of a pin would have outed me way before I was ready to come out to her. So remember to be discreet.

Do: Complement Them

So, you see a person, you've deduced that they're probably queer, just like you--yay! That's a very exciting thing. I still get excited when I see other members of the community out in public. But again, safety comes first. So, how can you low-key let them know that you know? Complement them! But you want to do it in a safe way, too.

See a patch on their jacket? Complement their jacket, not necessarily the patch itself.

A person has a lot of pins on their bag and one or more is representative of who they are as a queer person? Compliment their pins, plural.

There's a person with blue hair that is just giving off That Vibe? Don't ask if they're queer, just smile and complement their hair.

Trust me, we'll know what you're talking about.

Do: Use Code in Social Settings

I. Freaking. LOVE queer codes. Basically, back in the day, there were a couple of ways that someone could discreetly ask another person if they were queer. For example, asking someone--usually a gay man--"Are you a friend of Dorothy?" was a way of asking if they're gay, Dorothy being a reference to the Wizard of Oz, as the actress who played Dorothy, Judy Garland, is widely considered to be a queer icon. I couldn't find any information on her sexuality, but I did find that a lot of queer people related to her back in the day, if not on a sexuality level than on a personal one.

There was also the green carnations, started by Oscar Wilde, as a subtle cue to fellow queer men that you yourself were a queer man. For women, you could give another woman violets as a representation of sapphic love and desire. Though, to be honest, I'm not sure how well known this one was, especially after the fall of using floriography, or the Victorian language of flowers (which can also be used to express negative feelings for someone, too, just so you know--don't like someone? Send 'em a bouquet. They probably won't get it, but you will).

Queer code still exists and is used to this day! For example, sometimes a sapphic person will ask someone if they listen to Girl In Red, which is a modern way to discreetly ask if someone is also sapphic.

Queer code should really only be used in a social setting. If you're at a café, and you spot someone who is fem presenting, and they seem open to conversation and you want to actually meet fellow queer people, you can ask if they listen to Girl In Red. But remember to read the room, and the person. Not a place where conversation can be had? Then probably not the appropriate place to be using queer code.

Long Story Short

While spotting a fellow queer out in the wild is a very exciting thing, remember that safety and comfort for everyone involved comes first. You never want to accidentally out someone, or put you and them in an unsafe situation. Use common sense and manners.

Happy socializing! 🏳️‍🌈🩷🏳️‍⚧️