#this is a theory that has not panned out yet

[getvalentined]

Thinking about finally throwing all my FF7 meta analysis and lore deep dive stuff onto a sideblog. It'd be reblogged from here, but I'd be able to organize it a little better, have a directory so people could find things more easily, and maybe it'd stop people from regurgitating things I say word-for-word for brownie points when they can just find and reblog the fucking original post(s).

[he-is-lightning-in-a-bottle]

I'm so relieved!

For a while, I've been scared that My Lovely Liar would make it so Sol Hee couldn't hear Do Ha's lies. I didn't want this to turn into some supernatural fated romance show when the premise (a woman who can hear lies) is otherwise so engaging. Just look at the stellar TV that same premise created in the US with Poker Face. I wanted to see the kdrama romance version of that scenario play out, and I feel like the show is setting us up for it what with the potential political intrigue from Do Ha's mother being a politician, to the murder mystery of Do Ha's ex girlfriend, to Sol Hee working for the rich and powerful and corrupt (ie criminals who are above the law because of money) and clearly being endangered because of it. The second half of this drama has the potential to be quite explosive, and I really wanted Do Ha to be a disproportionately honest person rather than just someone who's immune to Sol Hee's power. The final scene of episode 4 was therefore quite a relief! She heard him lie!!

As for what that particular lie means, I think it's obvious. Lies and Truth aren't the same as Fiction and Fact. They are, unfortunately, more subjective. If Sol Hee heard a man who honestly believes he has no children say, "I am not a father," it would ping as the Truth. Because that man believes it to be true. But he may in Fact be a father and have a child out there who he doesn't know about, a child the mother hid from him for her own reasons. The man didn't lie. He just BELIEVES a lie.

Likewise, Do Ha believes he killed his ex girlfriend. But I think we'll discover the full set of Facts over the series and firmly establish that Do Ha is not a murderer. Maybe he feels guilty because she committed suicide, so he thinks he killed her even though he knows he didn't murder her. Maybe he got black out drunk that night and is afraid he actually did kill her even though all he remembers are incoherent flashes. I think it likely has something to do with his mother, too, given her creepy statement about the victim becoming fish food. (Did she break them up? Did she find the dead girl and cover it all up because she thinks her son is guilty? Worse, did she kill her and gaslight her own son, taking advantage of his PTSD?)

In any case, I am soooo happy she heard him lie, even if the lie sounds scary, because I'd much rather have an intriguing plot than any fated soulmate bullshit.

[i-cant-sing]

Yandere Batfam x reader who cant feel pain

HEhehehe i just remembered a disease and I just had to write about a reader with it x yandere batfam.

Have you guys heard of CIPA? Its "Congenital insensitivity to pain with anhidrosis" which is basically a genetic condition when a patient cant feel pain to any noxious stimulus and can also not sweat, and yall are probably like "but SNoWWW, that doesnt like a diSEase. More like a superpower!!!" um no. You need to be able to feel pain or else you wont know what part of your body has been injured and get help before its too late. You could have thumbtack plunged in your foot and u wouldnt know unless it got infected and u probably saw ur foot changing color.

And now yall are like "but SNoWw, the anhidrosis part, where u cant sweat, sounds nice! who would to look like a sweaty pig in this age????" NO! Sweating is a necessary physiologic phenomenon because it lets your body cool down as it releases heat. If you dont sweat, you'd overheat and DIE!

Okay now that we've covered the basic info, lets get into it:

So, Batfam finds out about reader when she's just running into danger with little to no care for self preservation, and they dismiss it as you being just another dumb teen wanting to be hero and "change the world". Time passes by and Bruce is impressed by your passion and decides to take you under his wing.

It isnt until months later that Bruce discovers something odd about your behaviour. You were standing in the kitchen with the rest of the batkids, laughing and having a good time when he saw Dick had pulled out a hot pan of cookies from the oven and placed it on the aisle. The pan slipped, and without thinking, you had grabbed the hot pan with your bare hands very calmly and placed it back on the aisle, without so much as a hiss of pain or even a sweat.

And now that he thinks about it, Bruce has never seen you sweat. Not during training, not during summer, not even when after you ran laps around the mansion.

With a quick search on the Internet, he finds out about the disease and of course its Dick who he confides in first about his suspicions. Soon, the rest of the batfam has heard the rumours and now they're all watching you keenly to see if its true.

But Jason is the one who tests out the theory quickly by spilling some hot tea on your hand when you were busy talking to Tim about the importance of sleep. The room goes dead silent as they watch your hand turn red, yet you fail to react. It took you a few seconds to realise that they're all looking at you, and when you follow their gaze, it takes you a few seconds to react.

Or fake a reaction.

You shriek, pulling your reddening hand as you run to the sink and run it under cold water, your mind trying to come up with an excuse. But you know its too late when Bruce's hand comes to clasp your shoulder, pulling you away from the sink as his eyes examine your injured hand and... you.

"Bruce I-"

"I know, Y/n." He gives you assuring nod, carefully bandaging your hand as you sat in his office. "You have CIPA, hm?"

You looked down. Why bother lying? He's Batman, he'll find out anyways.

Bruce lifted your head and smiled gently at you. "Its okay. I'm not disappointed in you. I just... you could've told me." You shook your head. "If I did, you would've treated me differently... like a freak."

He sighed. "You are different, but I would've never treated you like a freak. You're not a freak. If anything, between us, I'm more of a freak than you." He was talking about being a hero, but you giggled at the thought of him referring to being a rich dude who cosplays in spandex.

Bruce cupped your cheek and smiled. "I promise, no one will treat you like a freak. But we will have to take some precautions for your safety."

-

He lied. You've never felt more like a freak than you do now.

Every single day would start off with Dick waking you up and sticking a thermometer in your mouth because he needs to make sure that you're not overheating, even though Bruce has set a thermostat in your room that he controls and he's programmed it to turn your room temperature change by the hour.

Then Dick would start checking you all over for any bruises or injuries, even a scratch, that you may have caused yourself in your sleep. Originally, Damian was the one who had a whole checklist as he examined your body, but that all ended the moment you smacked him when he asked you to lift your shirt. Dick would just have you go and check yourself in the bathroom and trust you when you said you're all good. Also, you're much nicer to Dick than you are to the rest of the brothers (its his puppy dog eyes and that sweet voice that compels you to do as he asks. He's just too nice.)

Dick would then lead you to down for breakfast with the family, where Alfred already has your glucometer out because of course, they must check your blood sugar level every day, lest they find out you're diabetic or something. Only then would you be served your meal, which is a highly nutritous, perfeclty seasoned, balanced dish because they want to make sure you dont have any vitamin deficiencies (because how would they know???? you dont feel pain). But you cant eat just yet. No no, whichever brother is closer, most often Jason, will first taste your food to make sure its not too hot to consume (because you dont realise you've burned the roof of your mouth that one time when Tim ate a slice of pizza that was fresh out of the oven and huppahhuffpuhh the morsel out). Jason would then give you the go to eat and you finally do. You make sure to finish the whole plate (because otherwise Bruce will make note of it and then interrogate you "medically" why you didnt feel like eating all of it?)

After breakfast, while the rest of the batkids get to go to school and work, you dont (because Bruce thinks that your immune system could be weak and he cant risk you catching any diseases from the outside.) No, you get a special trip to the infirmary where Bruce and Alfred do a more thorough medical check up, taking your vitals, JOTTING IT DOWN, while Alfred hooks you up to an IV drip of vitamins. And even though they go to such extents to ensure that you're healthy, they still take you to a skilled doctor once a week for regular check ups. Bruce wanted to keep the doctor in the house to do daily check ups, but you talked him out of it that you dont want to feel like a lab rat who has her blood taken every day. Once a week is fine, Bruce.

Once the medical check up is done, Bruce would then take you with him, either to Wayne enterprises where you sit in his office as he imparts you "business education that no school can teach you." which you believe because... well he has managed to triple the Wayne wealth even after his parents death. If he's working from home, then he'll let you accompany him in his home office where you can either read a book he chose for you (because Bruce prefers to homseschool you himself) or do a puzzle/case he created specifically for you. If he's working in the batcave, then he'll let you tag along but you can only work here by brainstorming or doing some computer research, but in no way are you allowed to ever go on field and fight. No, not since your last incident.

Just 2 months ago, you were patrolling with Jason (because Bruce refused to let you go alone now. He just wont risk it) and you encountered some bad guys who were a little more well equipped than you two had expected. A fight broke out, and in the process you got hurt badly. Of course, you didnt realise it because you didnt feel any of the punches or the bone fracturing. Jason could only look at you in dread as you smashed your head against the villain's head until the guy passed out, all while your nose bled, you were covered in bruises from top to bottom, AND you had a bone sticking out of your arm.

"Jay? I think I'm hurt?" You asked as blood coated your teeth.

After that, Bruce forbid you from going out on the field altogether because you just dont know when to stop. If it werent for bones sticking out or blood dripping down your face, you wouldnt know that you've been injured.

Anyways, at lunch, almost everyone has returned from work/school and you get yet another balanced meal (temperature tested by another brother). You're now scheduled for some exercises, usually conducted by Damian (under Dick's supervision because otherwise, you'd just be smacking that devil's spawn.) You guys use the gym in the basement, where Damian makes you run on the treadmill for some time, during which he does not take his eyes off you once because he needs to know when he should stop you, especially since you dont sweat or are even huff. If he didnt keep time, you could probably run for a long time and not realise that your legs or lungs are begging you to stop and take a break. As you hop off the machine, he's immediately taking your temperature. He does it after every exercise he makes you do.

After that is done, you spend time with Tim who likes to have you try on little gadgets that should "help you feel pain", but so far, he hasnt had any luck (but he doesn seem to be doing good in disguising trackers in your daily wear things). Oh and Damian loves to join in because he gets to sneak up on you and prick you with needles to help Tim see if your sensory pathways work. They dont, but you dont need your pain receptors to detect Damian coming up behind you as you smack him when he tries to prick you.

Then dinner is served, and then you're ushered straight to bed where Dick, or more often- Bruce has you do a self check like the one Dick does in the morning, but Bruce also makes sure to check your eyes to see if you "accidentally scratched your cornea" or whatever, tucks you in, tells you that he's so proud of you for how youre handling this and that you can come to him anytime, for anything. He kisses your forehead, wishes you goodnight, and leaves.

Half an hour later, Jason sneaks into your room with the goodies- junk food and video games. You two have the strongest bond because Jason is the one who treats you the most normal, and Jason does it partly to piss off Bruce but partly because he cares about your mental health. He knows it cant be good for you to be cooped up in the mansion under supervision like a bird in a gilded cage.

So sometimes, he sneaks you out of the mansion and takes you out on late night rides on his bike. You can even watch him fight villains, but you're sat far away and can never interferre.

Unfortunately for you two, this sneaking out will have to end because Bruce had recently decided to set up some cameras in your room because he wanted to make sure you slept well without any abnormal breathing patterns. Bruce hopes he doesnt have to use restraints on you, because he's not blind. He knows you're uncomfortable with this intricate routine and knowing your impulsive self, you'd probably break your own bones to get out of these restraints. And then he'll be forced to use sedatives and he really doesnt wanna rely on drugs... he likes your company when you're not droopy.

And as Bruce had anticipated, you broke down. You finally tried to leave, and he could see the color draining your face as you realised that there is no leaving.

"Why isnt the door opening?" You asked Bruce, as his four sons slowly surrounded you.

"You dont have to run away, Y/n-" He tried to calm you down but you flinched away, eyes wide as you looked at him like he was going to harm you.

"Bruce, why isnt the fucking door opening?" Your voice trembled, shooting him teary glare before focusing your eyes back on the boys who were closing in on you.

"You're meant to stay here, inside, where its safe." He answered, heart aching at the alarmed stance you took, your fight-or-flight was going to kick in. He took another step towards you, hands raised in surrender. "We can keep you safe-" thats all it took for you to bolt as the boys began chasing you. Realistically, you knew you couldnt escape them but something about their intensely concerned calls for your name had you jumping out of the window.

Glass shattered and sharp shards embedded themselves in your skin and feet, but you didnt react to them. No, your brain wasnt screaming in pain, it was screaming for you to get out!

Adrenaline pumped you to run into the dark woods surrounding the mansion, but you were soon knocked to the ground by Dick, who cushioned your fall by placing you on top of him as his hands wrapped around your form like a cage. "Y/n, calm down and listen-"

You began thrashing in his arms, screaming in agony. "Let ME GO! YOU'RE HURTING ME-!" Dick's arms loosened instinctively and you took that as a chance to elbow him in the throat and run, thanking some deity for letting Dick forget that you cant feel pain.

But your relief is short lived as Damian catches you and pushes you to the ground harshly. "Damian! Be careful! She could break a bone-"

"Bones can heal, Drake." Damian barked back, pulling you up before he pushed you against tree. "Let me go, you maniac-" Damian's hand clamped around your throat, making you shut up. "You're the one who's a maniac. Look at you! You've fucking hurt yourself because if your astounding stupidity!"

You whimpered, clawing at his hand wrapped around your throat. "Dami- p-please let go- you're hurting me!" You cried out, but your eyes went wide as he squeezed your throat and bared his teeth at you. "Not falling for it, dumbass." So... fooling Damian wasnt as easy a feat as it was fooling Dick.

You stopped the act and looked at him dead serious. "Let me go, Damian, or-"

"Or what?"

Or what? Or what? Did he think you were out of options? Out of escape plans?

You dont know why, but that triggered something inside you.

Damian and Tim could only watch as you suddenly slammed the back of your head against the tree. "Y/n-" He gasped in horror as you leaned your head forward before slamming it back against the hard rough surface. This time, Damian's hand that was wrapped around your neck felt your blood around his fingers.

"Its my life and I get to decide how I should live it." You sneered before raising your head again to bash it, but Damian's hand quickly slipped from your neck to the back of your head, cushioning it when you smacked it back, the skin on the back of his hand breaking as it made contact with the bark.

You pushed him away and tried to make a run for it, but Tim grabbed your wrist. You tried to pull away, but he had a death grip on it. "Y/n, stop! You need to listen-"

"Oh is that so? I think I need this." You used your other hand to punch yourself in the face (because Tim would've dodged it if you punched him), making your nose bleed. But you didnt feel any pain, and now you were acting like a super soldier zombie that has no concept of self preservation who is going through fucked up lengths to prove her point.

Your eyes caught the sight of a glass shard poking out of your thigh. "Wanna see something cool?" You pulled out the shard, not paying mind to the blood oozing out. "Y/n, stop-" Tim begged, and you saw Damian froze in the back as you raised the shard.

They didnt know what your next target was- slashing your wrists, slitting your throat, or stabbing your stomach, but fortunately, they didnt have to find out as Jason came up behind you and injected you with a tranquilliser.

Sadly, you never felt the prick or sensed the hero sneaking up behind you.

thoughts? also, what other diseases would u guys like me to write for. i just adore these cool medical abnormalities lol

[agatharkn3ss]

Rio's flower theory (contains spoilers!)

Some people have noticed how Rio's flower kept making appearance in the last episode, so naturally I re-watched it for the 100th time, and made note of every moment we see the flower because I have a theory...

First appearance - Rio presents it to Agatha when she crawls out of the ground

Agatha pushed it out of her hand, but it's unclear what happens to it - I thought maybe it looked like she put it in her coat pocket, but actually I think she just threw it to the ground, she would be too angry to keep it. And so we see the flower back in Rio's hands when she merrily hops along the Road. She doesn't stop playing with it even when they stop to look at the trial house.

The flower (and also her knife) is also present in the trial. As we saw with Agatha's locket, amulets and Joe's spell book, the trial seems to let the witches keep things that are important to them.

When they exit the trial, frantically trying to save Teen, Rio is back playing with the flower again, silently observing Agatha.

This continues until the campfire. Seriously, why is this girl stimming so much?

The interesting bit is when Agatha returns from Teen. Her hands are in her pocket, so we can't see whether she's holding something in her hands or if she's taking something from her pocket. But in the next frame, as she sits down to join the coven, she has that flower in her left hand! I think Rio must have put it on the seat, waiting for her. There are some interesting looks!

Finally, when Rio gets up to go after Agatha, the camera pans out and we see the flower has actually been left back on the log, where Agatha sat... What is the meaning of it?....

So in summary, the flower has some deeper meaning to Rio and she seems to really treasure it, maybe even use it as a stimming device, maybe trying to control her emotions?

Enter the Marvel promo for Death tarot card!

In one hand, we see Death holds her dagger (looking familiar?), in the other hand she holds an object that people believe to be Death's black heart. But it also reminds me the shape of a flower. So what if Rio's flower IS her heart? That she keeps offering to Agatha?

But I wonder if Agatha realises the meaning of the flower yet. In ep.1 she looked a little surprised when Rio says she does have a heart, that it's black and beats for her. It would be hard to believe that if these two were an item for centuries, that they wouldn't end up knowing everything about each other. So Agatha's "you don't have a heart" could just be a snarky, hurtful comment to reflect Rio's possible betrayal (the "job" she had to do) or a more literal fact that she doesn't believe Rio can be truly human in any physical way (no heart, no scars), because she's Lady Death. Or both. So maybe Rio hid that part from her? They certainly seem like they didn't even talk and reconcile after the dramatic events because Agatha seems surprised at Rio's hurt and regret when she tells her "scar story".

Anyway, I digress... In short, I think flower is (or at least symbolises) Rio's heart.

Bonus content - we actually get a glimpse of that flower in ep.1 as it makes its appearance even in Agatha's fake reality. Even though the camera angles make it impossible to see it most of the time, there are scenes when Rio moves her head just enough that we can see a bit of her her clip - which looks eerily like the flower!

While there was no actual flower in their ep.1 fight scene, Agatha is wearing a flowery robe and the wallpaper is all flowers. So I think there is a deeper symbolism there that the show is trying to subtly incorporate - does it all link to the Green Witch powers? Or the language of flowers?

Even Teen places a flower on Sharon's grave, where would he even get it from in that dark place? And finally, Jen uses blue flowers when they summon the green witch (Lilia offers a rock, Agatha adds a leaf and it's not clear what Alice adds - some dust or fruit?)

So... after all that, I don't actually know anything about plants or gardening. So does anyone know what type Rio's flower even is? I mean, there literally is a flower called Rio, could that be a hint or is it too simple?

EDIT: My bad, Rio is a proprietary company name who sells those flowers. But what about this flower called Surprise Lily? (also called Resurrection Lily!) Doesn't look quite like Rio's but I like the name as it would be quite funny if it was true...

[ovaryacted]

WISH YOU KNEW || CH. 1

─ KISS THE GIRL

─ Logan Howlett/Wolverine x fem! reader

SYNOPSIS: Another mundane afternoon rolls around that quickly turns into a new beginning after Logan abruptly meets one of Wade's close friends.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: MDNI/18+. NSFW. NO SMUT. Worst! Logan / Variant! Logan. Friends to lovers vibes. Mutual pining. Sexual tension. Close proximity. Flirting. Playful Banter. Kissing. Alcohol Consumption. Profanity. Logan catching feelings. Wade being an instigator. Age gap implied [Logan is his canon age, reader is mid to late 20s]. Reader has an established friendship w/Wade. Descriptions of reader's clothing. Mentions of other characters.

WC: 7.9K

A/N: Super excited to be posting this today, I hope everyone enjoys it as much as I enjoyed writing it despite it taking me a little while. This whole story and first part is an extensive addition to these headcanons I posted a while back. Huge thank you to @ozarkthedog for the proofread and encouragement to finish this project, and shoutout to my baby @joelsdagger for helping me with the aesthetics and vibes of this post. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated! <3

NAVIGATION | SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT PART | AO3

Leaping into a new reality after everything he’d been through was far from the strangest things Logan had to experience in his incredibly long life. If anything, he was secretly appreciative to be given a second chance, a way to redeem himself from the horrors of his previous timeline and possibly live up to the expectations of his former self.

Though, he imagined things would be much more different. He thought that by now, he’d be living independently with a stable source of income outside of taking odd mercenary jobs alongside Deadpool, of all people. Crashing on the couch of the culprit that brought him into this mess was far from what he wanted, but getting adjusted to this new way of living was taking much longer than he anticipated.

Wade whistled to himself as he stayed busy in the kitchen. Still dressed in his pjs, the pink kiss-the-cook apron was neatly tied around his waist, paired with an obnoxiously crisp chef’s hat. He poured some batter into a flat pan, watching it puff up and sticking his tongue out in concentration as he flipped the pancake, ensuring the edges didn’t burn.

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, usually full of playing reruns on the TV and sleeping off the previous night of copious whiskey drinking. The alternative was dealing with Wade’s get-togethers, where his friends stopped by for game night. Logan could, in theory, stay behind and beat everyone at the table in a good game of poker, but having so many individuals in the tiny one-bedroom apartment he was already sharing with two other people and a dog could be overstimulating. 

The doorbell ringing disrupted the rarely calm atmosphere, sending the hairs on Logan’s nape to rise. He didn’t think it could be Blind Al coming back home so soon unless her daily walk was cut short. Wade made quick work of the pancakes in the current stack, setting them to the side and striding into the entryway to look through the peephole. Squealing to himself, he gave the grumpy man on the couch one more glance as a warning to behave and swung the door open to let an unknown figure come into view.

In walks a new stranger, someone Logan hasn’t had the pleasure of meeting personally. He was presented to Wade’s inner circle once he was brought into this world, surprised at the diverse group of people who tolerated his behavior longer than he had. Your face was refreshing compared to who he usually saw, and your abrupt entrance captivated him.

He diligently observed how you rummaged through the kitchen, tearing open the overhead cabinets and searching for something he couldn’t quite decipher under your mumbles. You have yet to sense an additional presence in the apartment, and you’re too busy in your quest to take a peek at the couch. 

“Where the hell did you put my wine, Wade? I told you to hold it for me, not pop it open.” Your voice cut through the room, hitting Logan’s discerning ears. As strange as it was, he thought the pitch of your voice suited you, or at least what he suspected would closely resemble it.

“Well, happy Sunday to you too, honey bunches. Are you looking for it? Sorry to burst your bubble, but Blind Al drank all of it,” he joked with a devilish grin. There he was again, jerking someone’s chain when given the chance, and yet Logan found himself curious about your dynamic with his roommate.

“Since when did Althea drink wine? I swear if you opened my rosé without telling me, I’m never bringing you anything again,” you playfully threatened as the corner of your lips curled up in a smirk.

A righteous aha! came from you as the bottle manifested in your hand, smiling widely at your successful find. You turned around, spotting Wade in his apron before your eyes moved further to the right, noticing the aged man for the first time since you barged into the apartment. He could see how your pupils dilated at taking him in, the cogs turning in your head as you tried to figure out who he was and his association with Wade.

“Who’s the big guy?” You jutted your chin toward the mutant, forcing Wade to take the initiative to bridge the introduction between you two. 

“Ah, him. Yeah, that’s Logan, the Wolverine. Kinda resurrected him as Marvel Jesus and brought him from his timeline into ours after saving the world. Now we’re happily married with a kid,” Wade said with full confidence, another one of his meddling tactics. 

“Oh, oh. This is Logan?” You tilted your head to study the man in question, all while he fought the urge to raise an eyebrow. Has Wade mentioned him to you before? “So you two are…”

“No, no we’re not,” Logan finally spoke, quickly rising from the couch to end the dubious dialogue. A pout formed on Wade’s face at his friend’s intrusion, no longer feeding into the delusion that they were somehow more than cohabitants.

“Don’t know what he’s told you, but I’m crashing on the couch since your friend brought me here.” Somehow after the brief explanation of how he got here, it sounded even worse coming from Logan’s mouth.

“Peanut, do not embarrass me right now. I know you’re shy about our true love, but sugarplum here is very much an ally,” Wade lifted a finger at him, more comical than the overall discussion, as Logan sighed in annoyance. He figured he might as well introduce himself properly since he’s gotten this far.

“Logan,” he opened his palm to offer a handshake, catching your name grace your lips as you clasped your hand over his. The squeeze you gave him was reassuring, and he reciprocated in kind, holding your gaze and drawing his hand away. 

“I’m guessing how you got here is a long story?” Your eyes dashed to Logan in interest, sparing him the embarrassment of denying the initial claims your mutual friend made without his knowledge.

“Very long.” Before Logan could smack his hand over Wade’s mouth, he closed his eyes, waiting for the raunchy commentary soon to follow.

“That’s what she said!” Wade clapped his hands, receiving a groan from the older man and a chuckle from you.

“You’ll have to tell me about it some time then. I’ll never understand Wade’s quests, all he talks about is who he kills and how much fun he has doing it.”

“Honey, the complexities of the space-time continuum are way too extreme to explain in one sitting. I’m going to need a podcast and a projector to elaborate on it,” while Wade kept responding to you, Logan observed the exchanges between you two, making mental notes as he read your body language. 

“I think you’re banned from the tech stores within the tri-state area, but maybe you can try Amazon,” you offered him, the same lively smile popping up once again. “The new season of Love Island USA drops this weekend. Are we still on for our watch party?”

“You must be fucking crazy if you think I will miss this premiere,” he beamed at you, mimicking your expression of delight.

“Then I’ll bring some of those sweet ‘n salty pretzels you and Althea like next time I stop by,” you announced, kissing Wade’s wrinkly cheek to honor the words threaded onto his apron. Your hand hovered over the front door handle, meeting hazel eyes to the right. “I hope to see you around Logan.”

One final glimpse at them, and you were out the door, the silhouette of your shadow no longer in the older mutant’s peripheral. Wade returned to the kitchen to continue cooking his late breakfast, putting strawberries and maple syrup on a stack of chocolate pancakes and cutting into the sweetened heap. 

“Is she another one of your friends?” Logan asked, his encounter with a new face birthed a sense of novelty that flickered in his mind.

“Mhm. Met her at a grocery store when I was finding something for Blind Al and kept bumping into her throughout the city. We just became friends, plus Althea loves her, probably because she’s always bringing her sweet treats,” Wade answered casually, his mouth half stuffed with the pancakes he bit into.

“Hmm. So I should be worried about seeing more people entering this apartment?”

“She comes for our religious reality TV and movie nights. It’s no biggy, she’s like everyone else I know. Think of me, but with a brain, and maybe not with the whole ‘immortal’ thing I got going on here,” he clarified, the thought of having to deal with anyone remotely similar to Wade filled Logan with inexplicable anxiety. Yet, all he did was shake his head and cross his arms across his chest.

“Great, the more the merrier.”

“You know, maybe if you weren’t such an asshole, you could actually have friends in this world, or even get laid. But instead, you’re too hellbent on being a grouch,” Wade replied, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Maybe I’d have friends and get laid if people didn’t think we were fucking all the time,” Logan reacted defiantly, grabbing hold of Mary Puppins and attaching the leash to her collar, getting ready to take her out on a walk around the neighborhood.

“Live in your truth, Wolvie. Be who you are!” Wade exclaimed again, ignoring Logan’s curses as he stepped through the front door to get some fresh air.

Logan held on to the leash with one hand as he walked down the block with Dogpool, taking in the acquainted streets and ignoring the looks that came his way. Thankfully, after being in Wade’s world for a while, the stares have transitioned from hate to mere tolerance, aiding his adjustment. As he turned the corner, his intrigue spiked as he thought more of his brief interaction with you, another of Wade’s friends who will inevitably return for a visit. 

Who are you?

Sticking to Wade’s words, you stopped by the apartment more than Logan expected. You’d come by and drop off some dinner and pastry dishes bought on your way home from work when you had the chance, and you shared what you got with Wade and Blind Al. For the most part, you made delivery stops to Wade’s place once every other week, walking into the space with a couple of pans of food and placing it on the nearest kitchen counter. You’d stay for a few minutes talking to either Wade or Althea, giving each of them a friendly kiss on the cheek or the top of their head before heading home.

Logan wouldn’t always be around when you visited the other two, missing you by a few minutes when he would be fulfilling a job or out and about. Still, when he was home, he’d be in the background observing you, talking to everyone while keeping himself at arm’s length. You supposed he had the whole grumpy, mysterious vibe that made him tough to approach. So, instead, you’d offer him a cordial wave and a mutter of his name, at least something that acknowledges him when he was in the same space as you.

Week by week, your face became a regular thing for Logan, mainly on Saturdays when you joined Wade in watching whatever current reality TV show was occupying your attention. The brutish man would be on his way to the local bar when you rang the doorbell, dressed in some comfy loungewear and your tote bag full of snacks.

Logan made it a habit not to intrude on your time with Wade. He was already with him for most of the day, the least he could do was respect your time when granted. That didn’t mean he wasn’t wondering what you were like outside of being friends with his companion.

Eventually, he got his moment.

A Thursday afternoon rolled around when Logan came home from the gym to an empty apartment, a rare occurrence he planned to relish. A note on the fridge from Wade mentioned he was out with Big Al and Mary Puppins doing God knows what, not that he wanted to know nor ask. He took a shower to rinse off the grime from his workout, threw on a ribbed tank and sweats, and headed to the kitchen for a cold beer. Popping the bottle cap off, he managed to take one sip before the front doorbell rang, his eyes squinting at the entrance and internally sighing as his moment of tranquility was interrupted.

Leaving the bottle on the counter and opening the door, he was surprised to find you on the other side of the threshold with a covered tin foil pan, no doubt containing something edible. You were still in your work clothes: a pencil skirt and button-down shirt on your body with heels to match, your purse hanging off one of your shoulders.

“Oh, hey, Logan. Came to drop this stuff off for Wade. Do you mind?”

“Nah, ain’t a problem,” Logan shifted to the side to grant you entry, eyeing the back of your head as you wandered past him and into the kitchen.

“I’m guessing Wade and Al are out?” you asked the man as you handled your business, inserting the tin pan into the fridge and closing it with your hip.

“Yeah. Probably doing something I shouldn’t worry about.” You laughed at that, a light sound that he preserved in the imprints of his consciousness.

“Let’s hope they don’t bring back some cocaine. Lord knows the last thing that lady needs is a sniff of powder.” It was Logan’s turn to chuckle, the rumble of a hum you considered equivalent to a laugh.

“So it’s just you in here?” you said as you placed your work bag on the nearest surface, an attempt to rest your arm from lugging the extra weight around.

“Just me,” his broad shoulders lifted and dropped as he leaned against the kitchen wall. “They’ll be back in a bit. You can wait for them if you want, and I can head out.”

“You don’t need to do that. Do I really make you that uncomfortable?” you raised an eyebrow at him as his features softened at your inquiry.

“Uncomfortable isn’t the right word,” he shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest again, the muscles in his biceps tightening as he did so. “You and Wade, you’re close, were close before I got here. Not trying to bother what you two have going on.”  

You hummed then, standing straight on one leg and entering a more relaxed stance. Logan could tell by your body language that you weren’t disturbed or intimidated by him, which he assumed was a good sign.

“Sure, I’ve known Wade and Al for a while, but I don’t mind having you around. You’re a little hard to talk to. Figured you were one of those types who liked to brood in silence, at least from what Wade told me.”

“What exactly did he tell you about me?” Logan contested, looking directly at you when he could.

“Do you want to hear the pg-13 or the explicit version? He had a lot to say. Not sure you’d be too happy about it, though,” Logan’s lips pursed, and his eyebrows furrowed at the thought. Knowing Wade, he probably said more than enough, and everything under the sun that wasn’t true.

“Fucker has a big mouth,” he almost took back what he said until he caught your nod of agreement, easing him a bit.

“He doesn’t know when to stop talking, but I can’t hate him for it. He’s just…honest, maybe a little too honest,” you claimed. “If you’re that worried about what he said, I didn’t take any of it literally. You’ll just have to prove him wrong.”

Logan’s sight bounced to you, curiosity laced in your stare as you glanced at him. For a moment, he was taking another read at you again, debating if you were as trustworthy as Wade makes you seem. He sensed your heartbeat and the steady pulse at your neck, even in pace, without a singular beat missing in rhythm. You were already here, and he reasoned he’d have to get used to all of Wade’s acquaintances sooner or later. Why not add you to the mix?

“Guess so,” his lips slightly turned upwards as his focus remained on you, deeming it acceptable to quit hiding in the background. A beat of silence filled the kitchen, one watching the other and your eyes unmoving from Logan’s face. For a split second, your pulse spiked with an intake of breath and releasing it, shaking you out of the sudden trance.

“I gotta go, but tell the deadly duo that there’s tiramisu in the fridge. You can take a piece too, I know they can be stingy,” you grabbed your work bag and threw it over your shoulder again, heading for the front door and offering Logan one last smile. “Don’t be a stranger.”

There you were, out the door again and off to your place with only the conversation you shared and the tiramisu you brought as proof of your presence. Logan huffed a breath and reached for the beer bottle sitting on the counter, making his way to the couch. He plopped down, sipping away at the lukewarm beverage and throwing his head back along the edge, staring at the ceiling with your words playing on loop in the space between his ears.

Don’t be a stranger.

He tries to deny the slight tug of warmth fluttering in his chest, manifesting into an exhale and a shake of his head, followed by another sip of his drink to wash it down.

He makes sure he won’t be.

Integrating Logan into your established dynamic with Wade and Althea was seemingly effortless. You didn’t make a big fuss about forcing him into joining the weekly TV binging when he was home, but it was nice to hear more of your voice directed at him occasionally. Whenever you stopped by Wade’s place with baked pastries or dishes, Logan hovered in the backdrop, returning your gestures when you threw one his way.

He liked having you around, not to mention the food you dropped off would fill him with a sense of comfort he hadn’t felt in a long time. Once, you handed Wade these red velvet cookies Althea liked from a downtown bakery. Logan side-eyed them munching away at the baked goods, silently judging them for satisfying their sweet tooth to such an extent. His facade was maintained until the middle of the night when Wade and Al were asleep in the bedroom, walking on muted footsteps to finish the rest of the cookies in the pan. He goes back to playing the part of being the nonchalant roommate once the sun rises, pretending to be shocked when Wade starts pointing fingers and gets into a blaming match with the blind woman he shares a bed with.

It was a matter of time before you offered more than just food, keeping the newest member of your friendly circle in mind the next time you decided what to bring to the household. There was a double knock on the door, and Wade was on the other end, waiting for you with girlish excitement.

“Hey, Wadey. Hi Althea,” you wiggled your fingers at the elderly woman. Dropping the pans on the dinner table, everyone gathered around the middle of the apartment, anxiously lingering to see what you had brought. 

“Finally, I’ve been waiting for this all fucking week,” Wade approved happily, nudging you by the shoulder. “Show daddy the goods! Come to papa.”

You giggled and unwrapped two tin containers, unveiling baked lasagna and penne a la vodka. You could practically hear everyone’s stomach rumbling at the collective awe of the food in front of them, still warm to the touch as the scent of the meal wafted through the apartment.

“Thought Italian would be good, so I called this restaurant a while ago to set some dishes aside for pick-up. Got devil’s food cake too, I hope you’re in the mood for chocolate,” you voiced, smacking Wade’s hand away that threatened to dip into the pasta.

“Honestly, I think we should get married. You don’t even have to see me at all. As long as you bring me food like this, I’ll give you one kill a week.” Wade’s proposal made you smirk. Though it was tempting, you knew better than to get associated with the mess of his job.

“Don’t want to be a homewrecker,” you gestured to Logan, who rolled his eyes. “I did bring something for the grump, too. Consider it a very late welcome to this world gift.” 

He watched as you handed him a paper bag, your fingers wrapping around what appeared to be the neck of a bottle. Logan held the familiar weight in his large hands, peeling back the bag to drag out a nicely sized whiskey bottle, Johnnie Walker, to be exact.

He didn’t realize how high his eyebrows raised at receiving a gift, much less something from you. The food containers did get bigger after Wade complained about somebody eating everything after 24 hours. But knowing you were somehow thinking about him revived that pulse in his chest.

“Thank you,” he said genuinely, russet irises focused in your direction. “Really, this is nice.”

“It’s the least I could do since I’m always coming over here,” you said, appreciating Logan’s kindness and mirroring his grateful expression.

There it was again, the beat of silence that entranced the both of you when you entered the same room. The space between Logan’s ribs ached, a strange and unnerving thumping that carried a wave of unfamiliarity.

“Are we going to fucking eat or what?” Blind Al muttered out loud, disrupting the moment you shared with Logan.

“Aht aht, being greedy isn’t nice, Althea. I’m still pissed you ate the corner piece of the brownies I called dibs on last week,” Wade squinted his eyes as he blamed the elderly woman for a crime she didn’t commit. That was, in fact, Logan.

“Motherfucker, if we stand here any longer, the lasagna will get cold,” Althea criticized, the two bickering amongst themselves beside you. You shake your head in disbelief, going to the kitchen to grab some plates, with Logan following behind to help you bring the utensils and cups.

“You want to stay a while?” The suggestion tumbled out of him without thinking, anxious that he had just shot himself in the foot. When your smile reappeared, his worries passed.

“Yeah, I got time,” you held a few plates, heading to the dinner table to join the others in fighting over the pieces of lasagna.

Logan reached other milestones in your bond over the upcoming weeks when you invited them to dinner at your apartment to celebrate your recent job promotion. He didn’t know why he stressed about which shirt to wear or how to style his hair, wanting to put some effort into his appearance this time. Deciding on a red flannel and a leather jacket, he didn’t say a word when Wade was messing around with wigs to wear for the evening.

After a few threats of slicing Wade’s head off if he didn’t hurry the fuck up, they were on their way to your place. An 8-minute walk around the neighborhood and a buzz of the intercom later, you happily greeted the two men at the front door. Stepping aside to let them both pass, you briefly eyed the breadth of Logan’s back flexing under his jacket as he trekked inside, closing the door behind them.

“Al didn’t come along?” you questioned, half expecting the elderly woman to join you.

“Nope, she’s fast asleep. You know how old people are, strict curfews and powdery smells,” Wade quipped, glancing around the table to see what you had prepared.

“Surprised you don’t have a wig on right now,” you lightly jested, straightening the collar of Wade’s polo and approving of his outfit choice.

“I was deciding between a short bob and a tapered fade when Logan threatened to tear me limb from limb. I think that’s his way of flirting.”

At the mention of the other male, your gaze landed on him as he surveyed his surroundings. Your apartment was nice, small yes, but homey, just enough for one person. The living room consisted of your TV and a plush couch, a colorful blanket thrown over its edge, and a leather armchair beside the windows draped in sheer curtains. Two sets of bookshelves rested on the walls closest to the entryway, a collection of books and knick-knacks filled the shelves, a mix of genres from thrillers to romance to fantasy. He took in the setting of your space one last time before pivoting to face you.

“Sorry, Wilson, but you’re not my type,” Logan replied, his hands digging into the pocket of his jeans.

“He’s in denial and emotionally constipated. Don’t worry, Wolvie. I will wait for you forever, as long as you return home to me.” Logan ignored him, mumbling a quiet shut the fuck up under his breath.

The rest of the night went by smoothly, and Logan used it as an opportunity to learn more about you. Through conversing with Wade, he discovered you work at a media studio further downtown. Initially, you were just a journalist pitching stories that would sometimes be published or given the spotlight. Your promotion now makes you the head of your department, giving you more creative control over the stories you want to be told, something you’ve worked hard to get. In your own words, you were happy that bitch Janice at your office didn’t get the role, and now she will have to deal with you being her superior.

Logan liked how you smiled from ear to ear after being so accomplished, and when he mentioned he was glad it worked out, the way your face lit up wasn’t overlooked.

Munching into the lamb chop you cooked for tonight, Wade retells the stories of the recent mercenary jobs he’s completed with Logan by his side, throwing innuendos and graphic details of his missions between every couple of sentences. You listened to him talk, drinking your wine and resting your chin on your hand, nodding and providing commentary when needed.

At some points in the conversation, Logan would jump in when Wade allowed him to, roping him in to tell you about the cool shit he can do with his claws. Your eyes sparkled at Logan’s words, hanging on to whatever came out of him and holding it close as if it would be the last time you’d hear him speak. He couldn’t bring himself to deny that having your attention on him felt good, and when he let Wade control the dialogue again, his eyes would stay on you for a second longer, sipping on the beer you saved for him.

He hopes you didn’t notice.

Other times, Logan joined you and Wade on the couch for reality TV and movie nights, something he figured would help him become more of a social butterfly. Though he didn’t always understand the current events of 90 Day Fiancé or Love Island USA, you didn’t mind catching him up on the episode that played despite Wade itching to give out spoiler warnings.

You’d be situated between them on the small couch, the popcorn bowl on your lap, and sharing it with Wade, who wore his patterned PJs. Although Logan was relatively quiet while you watched the TV screen, you’d let him take a handful of popcorn, washing it down with a drink to enjoy a somewhat tasteful combination.

What he didn’t expect from you was how welcoming you were of his touch. Of course, given that the couch wasn’t that large, you’d be hip to hip with Logan and Wade on either side of you. The larger man did his best to stay in his corner of the couch and to manspread less to give you space, but you stayed close to him.

Maybe too close.

One night, his arm slipped from its perch on the edge of the couch, dropping on your shoulder and causing you to jolt from the sudden contact.

“Shit, my bad,” he was fast to mutter an apology, but you were just as quick to shake your head, quelling his worries.

“It’s fine. I don’t mind, really.” You were permitting him to leave his arm on your shoulders, and he wasn’t going to say no to that, the heavy bulk of muscle making a new home over the width of your back.

The fleeting touches persisted when you watched Australia for Wade’s sake, suddenly growing fascinated with the main male character and proclaiming Logan somehow favored him. He grumbled, zoning out of the movie and not realizing Wade had fallen asleep within the first hour. It was just you and him for a while until you also dozed off near the two-hour mark, still with 45 minutes left.

Logan had lost track of the plot within the first 30 minutes, so he no longer cared for the film. He focused on your torso, slowly leaning into his body on the couch, gravitating toward his warmth. Instinctively, he moved his arm on your shoulder, bringing you closer so you were flush with his chest, snuggling against the stability of his figure.

Logan swears he could hear a happy hum fall from your lips in the form of a sigh, getting more than comfortable against the man who had become a new addition to your life. If you were awake, he was sure you could hear how hard his heart was beating inside of him, providing a comforting squeeze to your arm to signal he was still here with you.

For the next little while, he’ll enjoy his current position without qualms, and he can imagine just for a second that this was a part of your usual interactions. This is as close as he’s going to get anyway.

“You like her.” Wade’s voice filtered through the static noise of Logan’s channel surfing, settling on a Tom and Jerry episode that played in the background, his head twisting to scrutinize the pain in the ass he called a roommate. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh, you know,” he grinned mischievously, “Honey bunches, you have the hots for her.”

The neurons in Logan’s brain fired at rapid speed as he comprehended what his friend was insinuating. Sure, he liked having you around and looked forward to when you stopped by every week to sit on the couch. He ignores how you smell or breathe next to him or how you don’t mind when his arm is on your shoulder. He doesn’t care that you inch the slightest bit closer to him, hip to hip, eyes still on the screen during movie nights. He dismisses how you look at him, how you smile when he’s in your space, and how his heart skips a beat when it happens.

“No, I don’t." He knew he was lying.

“Really?” Wade’s Cheshire smile broadened, dissecting Logan by the minute. “You sure, Logan? Are you sure your stone-cold skeleton doesn’t melt when you graze your fingers together?”

“What is this? Couple’s therapy? Shut the fuck up and drop it.” Logan’s mask was cracking the more Wade badgered him about his suppressed emotions, and frankly, he wasn’t sure how long he could keep the truth from his friend or himself. 

“Oh shit…Wolvie, you’re in denial. Are you scared of rejection?” Wade covered his mouth in faux shock, taking Logan’s deep scowl with pride as he hit a nerve. “It’s alright, Casanova, no need to be worried about your unrequited love life. I’ve watched enough episodes of The Bachelor and The Bachelorette to put romancers to shame. I will make this happen.”

“Wade. Drop it.” The threat came out with a paired growl, the mutant’s fingers curling into a tight fist as the skin of his knuckles split to unsheath the blades embedded between them.

“This is now a telenovela baby. Just imagine how much we’d make with you two as the leads. ‘Loving the Wolverine.’ The title is a work in progress, but we’ll revisit that later.”

“Wilson.” Logan’s nostrils flared, the metal claws fully out with a sharp schling. The vein in his forehead bulged as his blood pressure skyrocketed from his anger, ready to slice the man any second now.

“You can be angry all you want, but feelings are feelings. And if you don’t say something soon, I fucking will!” The apartment filled with a loud squeal as Logan pierced Wade’s thigh with one hand, the other aiming for his torso, puncturing him through his hoodie.

As pissed as Logan wanted to be towards Wade, he knew he was right. Whatever sentiments had developed between you and him were undefined, and he hated himself for believing there was a chance it could be anything beyond friendly. You were younger than him, a given anyway, with an established life he didn’t want to ruin or get too involved with. Why would you choose him when you could have anyone else?

It wouldn’t work, not in his book. As Logan continued to puncture Wade’s body like a voodoo doll in the name of stress relief, he still had a hard time ignoring how he felt. He doesn’t think he will anytime soon.

His inner turmoil peaked when Wade hosted another get-together at the apartment, and of course, he invited you. He mentioned this would be a chance to set you guys up, and Logan tried his hardest not to shove his claws into his head or ruin the vibe before the party started.

The people closest to the host bustled into the apartment the following Friday night, along with the few new additions brought back from the void. Logan was entertained by talking to Laura and watched the entryway every few minutes to see when you’d walk through it. The time couldn’t come soon enough, the familiar notes of your scent hit his nose the second Wade opened the front door to let you inside, showing the assortment of alcohol bottles you brought to make cosmopolitans.

From where he sat on the couch, he studied your appearance. He raked his eyes over the casual jeans that hugged your thighs and the low neckline of your top, the jewelry adorning your neck brought more than enough attention to the dip of your collarbones.

Logan must’ve been starting too hard when you caught him in the act, your mouth bending up when you noticed him. Without a word, he only smiled at you, drinking his beer to wash down the incessant pounding in his body.

You busied yourself with making drinks in the kitchen, periodically darting to watch Logan while he mingled as much as his social battery allowed. You chatted with the other partygoers, catching up with Vanessa to ask how things were going with Wade and talking to the bubbly Yukio, who stood beside her girlfriend as you joined in teasing the host for the party hat on his head.

Everyone eventually had a red solo cup in their hand, uttering their thanks to you as the influx of a new alcoholic thirst quencher streamed through their bodies. The space to the right of Logan was empty after Laura rose to steal more chips from the dinner table. You took your chance, having a plastic cup in one hand as you strolled over to the gentleman sitting comfortably on the couch.

“That seat taken?” you asked, the bister eyes you’ve come to adore ran over your features, glinting slightly under the hanging light above.

“It’s free now,” Logan jerked his head to gesture you to sit beside him, the smell of your perfume hitting his senses when you walked past him. He swallowed his beer again, hoping it would help curb his growing urges.

“Avoiding me, huh?” The lively tone of your voice conveyed something he couldn’t precisely define despite it making him nervous. “Didn’t get up to say hi or anything…”

“You were busy making drinks for everybody, wanted to have you focused. Don’t want anyone to get alcohol poisoning from fucked up proportions.” You chuckled at his words, rolling your eyes and spinning the ice in your cup.

“Surprised you’re even here. Did Wade force you to stay around this time?”

Yes, he did. That was what he wanted to say, but one glance at your face, and he couldn’t be mad that he listened to the bastard for once.

“Decided to be a little social,” he answered calmly, the tip of his bottle lined up with his lips.

“You? Social? That’s a first.”

“Are you complaining, bub?” he remarked, turning to you with a raised eyebrow and a teasing attitude.

“No, not at all,” you shook your head, giddy in anticipation of what qualified as “social” for the man next to you. “Nothing wrong with trying new things.”

The world tuned out as you conversed with the older mutant, taking every word in stride. Believe it or not, Logan could talk for a while if you ignore the curse words he adds every other sentence. Still, it was nice to just talk to him, even if your sight wandered. On your second cosmo and probably Logan’s fourth beer, the distance between you on the couch closed with each shift of your hips, leaning into the back of the couch and facing him while he rested against the length of it.

With each passing word from Logan, you watched his jaw flex and his lips part as he spoke—counting the wrinkles of skin beside the slight hints of gray at his temples. You took another sip of your mixed drink, discreetly running your eyes down the column of his throat and his collarbone, peering at the coarse hair that peeked from his flannel’s first two undone buttons.

You didn’t know if he could read the signs of your desires or sense the palpable tension brewing in the air, but you remained willfully ignorant. Oblivious to you, the notion was reciprocated when you spoke, rambling about stuff with your job to bits and pieces of your childhood. Logan’s eyes never left your face, landing on the shimmer of your glossy lips or the pendant that dangled on your chest when you weren’t looking.

In the next breath, the topic changed to something concerning Wade’s most embarrassing instances and jokes that would only come from him. Logan must’ve said something right when you broke out in a fit of laughter, deep and hearty, as it came straight from your stomach and emitted through your chest. He didn’t say anything to disturb your moment, commemorating your eyes scrunching up and your mouth opening wide to laugh harder. He didn’t jolt when you smacked his sternum a few times, the warmth of your touch radiating through the layers of his clothes.

He craved more of it.

“I think you’re spending too much time with Wade. He’s rubbing off on you,” you calmed down from your laughing fit and wiped the tears that threatened to spill.

“Maybe. Gotta tolerate the guy,” Logan was carefree as he spoke despite the stirring emotions.

Your hand was still on his chest, resting comfortably on his body. You didn’t move it as quickly as you should, nor would Logan tell you to take it away. Grazing your thumb over the fabric of his shirt, you whizzed lowly to yourself, the alcohol pumping through your body, loosening your inhibitions as you continued to touch him.

Much to Logan’s disappointment, you pulled your hand away, looking over his shoulder to see Peter showing off the chain that connected his nipples to whatever was underneath his pants. Downing the rest of your beverage, you placed the cup on the coffee table, sitting up straighter.

“I think that’s my cue to leave. It’s getting late anyway.” The nagging voice in your head pressed a question you wanted to admit, an invitation you knew wouldn’t work if asked incorrectly. Thankfully, you didn’t need to speak out loud.

“Let me walk you home,” Logan suggested through the racket, firm and determined in his proposition. “Could use the fresh air if I’m being honest.”

You didn’t need much effort to say yes.

“Sure.” You rose from the couch to say goodbye to everyone, giving kisses on the cheek and hugs when warranted, your last stop being Wade. He looked between you and Logan, throwing the older man a thumbs up as he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.

Side by side, you walked down the block, Logan keeping you on the opposite side of the street and serving as a barrier between you and the road. He didn’t reach out for your hand despite the urge to hold you steady, nor did you hold on to his bicep as you strode beside him. But you both talked on your joint stroll, confessing things amongst yourselves that would otherwise be omitted by all the noise.

He followed you through the lobby of your apartment complex, up the flights of stairs that dropped you off on the second floor to your front door. He remained vigilant, standing behind your figure as you inserted your key into the lock, guarding you until your door opened and looming as you spun to face him again.

“Thank you for walking me. It was nice,” you expressed, the cosmopolitans you consumed earlier heightened the glassiness in your eyes.

“Ain’t a problem. It was good to get off the couch,” his hands went to his pockets. “You gonna be alright by yourself?”

“Yeah, I’m a big girl. I can handle a little alcohol,” you snorted, the sound bringing a grin to his face.

As your hazy vision landed on him, he felt the pull in his chest again, the one that comes when time and space stop moving in that beat of silence shared only between you two. He sensed the change in your demeanor, the increased pumping of your heart, and the rush of your blood flowing faster.

Logan halted his breathing when you stepped forward. You preemptively set a hand on his chest and tipped upwards to kiss his stubbled cheek.

“Really, thank you, Logan.” Your serene voice was muted when you said his name, sweet on your tongue that drew him in like a siren’s song. He’d do anything to hear you say it like that again, and again, and again.

“Any time,” you held his gaze, eyes going from his tawny pupils to the tip of his nose and plush lips. He was right there, right in front of you, and the only thing you had in mind was to get a proper feel of him.

There was a jolt of hesitation, taking a step back to get more space between you until you felt the heavy weight of Logan’s palm reaching for your hip. He kept you in place, squeezing your frame and curling his hand to your lower back. Your heart hammered in your ribcage, glimpsing up at him one more time as his head tilted towards you, the only signal you needed to get what you both yearned for.

Your lips landed on his, soft and gentle, testing his reaction. Logan didn’t let you venture too far from him, holding you close and kissing you more fervently, opening his mouth to make room for your tongue as it traced his bottom lip. The groan that reverberated deep within him grew louder when your hands went up to drive through his hair, changing your position to have your back against the entryway of your apartment.

You whimpered when he squeezed your waist, a sound that would haunt his dreams for the next upcoming nights, causing him to push further against you. Your fingers tugged at the collar of his flannel, seeking more of him than you could reach. The metal of his belt buckle pressed into your lower stomach, a faint moan tumbling out of your mouth that Logan hungrily swallowed.

“Do you want to come inside?” you breathlessly invited him as you pulled away, face heated to the touch and body thrumming with a need you didn’t expect. He could read your reactions, almost smell your arousal in the air, but the last thing he wanted to do was fall into the pattern he was familiar with when it came to partners. You deserved better than that, better than just a fun night, even if that’s what you wanted.

“I want to, I do,” Logan tried to say, already noticing your look of disappointment at his upcoming rejection. “But, maybe we can try this again when you don’t taste like fucking vodka and cranberries?” You laughed a bit, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, relishing the tingling sensation left behind from his kisses.

“Thought you didn’t mind alcohol?”

“Vodka isn’t my favorite. More of a dark liquor kind of guy.” Even as he spoke to you, his hands stayed on your body, a reassuring weight you didn’t want to leave your midriff.

“Then you can make it up to me with dinner. That sounds good?” You were cheeky in your response, refusing to let the prospect pass you by, and Logan wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” he warmed at your proposal and accepted one more kiss as he let you part from him.

“I’ll see you around, Logan.”

It was the last thing you said to him before you closed your front door, leaving him in the hallway to deal with the feelings washing over him. He could still discern your heart beating on the other side of the door, probably grounding your breathing and walking further into your apartment. His eyes fell to his feet, mind running a mile a minute and exhaling, deciding to take the longer way home back to Wade and Blind Al.

The apartment was empty when he came back. Althea had fallen asleep in bed, and Wade was busy cleaning up the leftover mess in the dining room. The lopsided party hat was still on his head, brown eyes scanning Logan’s features and analyzing him.

“Well, that was fast. Thought you’d last a bit longer, peanut,” Wade mocked with a grin, detecting the leftover gloss on Logan’s lips and a spot on his face. “I’m guessing Cupid was successful tonight?”

“Not another word,” Logan was back to his prickly mood, murmuring under his breath that he was going to the bathroom to take a piss, locking the door behind him.

He looked in the mirror and noticed the faint shimmer of your lip gloss still on his features, leaving your mark on him without realizing it. He chuckled, smirked wide to himself, and privately enjoyed the remnants of your touch.

He’ll make a note to pick places to take you out in the morning. For now, he’ll appreciate this feeling for as long as possible.

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

[twistedmionn]

Twisted Wonderland iceberg

Explanations ahead (slight spoiler warning)

Tier 1:

everything is self-explanatory, I think

Tier 2:

Haruhi = the protagonist of Ouran High School Host Club. She's a girl who dresses up as a boy (correct me if I'm wrong) and many players who have a female MC consider theirs to be like Haruhi. [EDIT: Thanks for the anon pointing out that I misspelled the name!]

Tier 3:

self-explanatory

Tier 4:

A fair amount of people headcanon Vil as a trans woman because he presents androgynously/feminine and doesn't care about gender roles. This has also caused discussion in the fandom because breaking gender roles ≠ trans.

Tier 5:

People sometimes wish TWST was more like a dating sim and had character/dorm routes.

Some people headcanon that Silver is based on Prince Philip (from Sleeping Beauty) and/or is a prince himself. I haven't played all of book 7 yet (only the parts out in the ENG server) so idk if the theory has been proven right.

Lilia is old and hints at dying soon.

Hot NPCs, such as Deuce's mom and Sebek's grandpa.

Ace and Deuce have expressed interest in Yuu at various points in the game.

Genshin VAs: Leona/Alhaitham, Silver/Kazuha, Idia/Razor are the ones I can think of

Tier 6:

A beastman (I think it was Jack) has stated that he has problems talking to animals, and Ruggie's talent at it is considered something special.

The tweels are considered intersex by some due to eel anatomy (I'm no eel expert).

Kalim is considered the real villain by some due to never really bothering to help Jamil.

Epel's backstory/attitude has many elements that a fair amount of trans men relate to.

There are theories that Lilia and Sebek are twisted from Peter Pan characters. I'm unsure about Silver, but I think I've read something about him being from another movie, too!

Tier 7:

Some people headcanon that Ace has experienced domestic abuse.

There's a theory that Ace will betray Yuu.

Cater has two sisters who boss him around, which is a resemblance to Cinderella.

Malleus might have two pps because well... dragon.

Epel and Deuce had a whole ass beach date. Deuce constantly cares for him and broke the school rules in order to make Epel feel better. Their scenes together (the settings) looked straight out of a shoujo manga. If Epel were a girl, this ship would be considered canon by most.

I'm not sure EXACTLY which languages Jade's VA speaks, but I do remember that he knows German.

In one of his Halloween vignettes, Ruggie — as opposed to Lilia — has indirectly expressed that he has no interest in romance/relationships.

Tier 8:

UH.

[photogirl894]

A couple points of note before we venture into Bad Batch season 3 tomorrow...

Let us remember a few things before Bad Batch season 3 begins tomorrow.

It is NOT Dave Filoni that we "blame" for any emotional trauma. It is Jennifer Corbett and Brad Rau 😝 He may be one of the executive producers, but Filoni hasn't been involved in the writing of this show since the pilot, it's all Jennifer and Brad.

Our theories/headcanons are NOT canon! Which also means that if your theories don't pan out, it's NOT "bad writing". WE are not the tellers of this story, we are the receivers of it. We do not determine how this season is going to go. That is Jennifer, Brad and Lucasfilm. So don't get mad and pissy if certain theories don't happen or if things didn't go the way you thought they would. (Unless anyone dies, then you have every right to be mad 😝)

BE! PATIENT!! If we haven't seen certain characters in a while...be patient. They might show up in the next episode or two. You never know. If we haven't had certain questions answered yet...be patient. They'll most likely get answered in time. There are 16 episodes, so not everything is gonna happen at once. It's okay to wonder, but don't be getting mad that certain things haven't happened yet. We've got a couple months of this and it's gonna be a very long ride if you're not patient!

If things happen in the show that you don't agree with, but other people do, don't be rude about it. Either just keep scrolling and don't engage with discussions about those topics if you're not gonna be nice about them or just block the posts/people who talk about them. It's not that hard!

ACT YOUR AGE!! A good majority of us in this fandom are adults. ACT like adults and don't get pissy about things. Get as emotional as you want (cuz we all know it's inevitable), but still be mature about it all. Follow all of the above points and you should be fine. Don't be hateful, don't be rude, don't act like you're better than anyone, etc.

If anyone has other things they think the fandom needs reminding of before tomorrow, feel free to add them!

Otherwise...once more unto the breach, my friends 🥺 We're in for a long, emotional ride, so let's get through it together!

[shutupineedtothink]

Alright, y’all really got me goin on this “we’re still in the trial” idea, so here’s the potential evidence:

Spoilers below the cut in case I turn out to be right lol.

The color grading when they got back on the road was Weird. Almost orange, when the road has been very blue tinted overall this whole time

Maybe the orange-y ness is because there’s still a blood moon but we didn’t pan up to see it?

Or maybe its just visual code for “this is not the real Road”

Jen and Alice both came out of their trials having gained something, confidence for Jen and freedom (from the curse) for Alice. Agatha really walks out with nothing except more trauma. If we go with the theory that the Road is making them deal with their trauma in order to overcome it, then the trial isn’t over. Agatha has more work to do. (We have to face our worst fears.) On the other hand, maybe Agatha just failed her trial. Maybe that means she gets another one later. Idk.

I keep wondering where we would go back to if we were still in the trial, and I think it’s when they first spelled DEATH with the ouija board and Rio laughed. At that point, everything that happened after that was her game to play. She knows Agatha’s past, and she’s trying to get her to face her inner demons, show some fucking vulnerability, and acknowledge that maybe she wasn’t born evil. Rio (and/or The Road) wants her to face her past so that she can show up as her real self, the Agatha she’s known all along 👀 (and to get Agatha to stop freaking running away from her). Rio’s still the only one who sees her (te veo), even Agatha can’t see herself. Rio exists separate from the events of the trial, and yet she’s still on Agatha’s side, being the protector she needs even as everyone else is slowly turning against her. With a little bit of crazy/murderous intent thrown in of course bc that’s how she is.

Also can’t get over the look Rio throws at Agatha as she climbs the ladder to get out of the house. It reads as frustration to me, like really, you’re running away from this again? You’re gonna keep pushing this down and repeating the same old patterns instead of facing your trauma again? Jesus fuck what do I have to do to get through to this woman.

I was originally thinking this was playing out as is due to the fact that we end on Teen/Billy and his powers, with Agatha basically gone. But then it occurred to me that those last few minutes were truly her worst fear manifested, that he began to hate her, turned on her, and became evil himself, partly due to her own taunting. Her worst fear is that SHE will turn the boy she thinks could be her son evil, passing it down because it’s an innate thing inside her, just like her mother said.

Bonus points: IF we’re still back in the trial, Alice isn’t dead, Jen was never quite as vicious as all that (that was Agatha’s own mind berating her), and Teen is still “Teen” and never went on a murder spree to kill the coven. But imo, everyone still remembers this version of events, which makes for some hella interesting character moves all around. Particularly for Alice, Teen, and Agatha. I actually have a whole headcannon for how this plays out, but idk if I should share it or not, because it will be ALL the spoilers if it happens.

Thoughts?

[lovemyromance]

After I finished reading the books and the bonus chapter I thought there was a 50% chance that the next book could be about elriel and 50% it could be about gwynriel, especially when I saw how popular gwynriel was. I didn’t pick up on any of the lightsinger hints. I feel like most people don’t pick up on them the first time they read the books. Without the lightsinger theory, the bonus chapter seems to introduce gwyn as a possible love interest for az.

With everything we learn in hofas and what Sarah said in the today interview, I think she’s more likely to write elriel. But that doesn’t mean that elucien or gwynriel can’t happen, after all she said she writes based on vibes and she’s prone to change love interests.

*I don't even care if this is a troll ask I already had a draft along these lines saved so thanks for letting me use it*

Walk with me, 🚶🏽‍♀️

I mean, I agree. If I had ONLY read the bonus chapter and none of the other books, then yeah I'd say he starts the BC with Elain and ends with Gwyn. So he could go either way.

But that would be ignoring the rest of the books outside the singular, 5page bonus chapter 🤷🏻‍♀️

Though you're right, truly, SJM can take it any which way she wants. You see it as 50/50 chance between Elriel and Gwynriel, I see it as 99/1, SJM herself could be 75/25 who knows! She could do 0/0 and make Azriel end up with Eris too!

And yet - when you read that last sentence - where I claimed SJM could write Azris endgame just as likely as she could write Gwynriel or Elriel - I'm sure a part of you disagreed, didn't it?

"There's no way Azris is as likely as Gwynriel!"

You're right. It's not. You know that. I know that. And you know why we both believe it's unlikely that SJM will throw away both Elriel and Gwynriel in favor of Azris?

It's because SJM doesn't just "switch love interests" without buildup.

We all knows she can do whatever she wants - she's the author. But I think it's kind of an inaccurate statement to say "she's prone to switching love interests", point blank. She NEVER has done that without proper buildup.

SJM has two ways she "changes" a love interest:

1. A main character has a minor relationship that is summarized in a passing sentence or paragraph long thought about their ex/current lover. They might not have even been in an actual relationship just had romantic feelings at one point. Either way, it's never a focus of the story.

Ex: Hunt & Shahar, Feyre & Isaac Hale, Elain & Greyson, Mor & Azriel (and cassian ig), Bryce & Connor, Hypaxia & Ruhn

2. A main character has a full blown relationship with another main character and they fully explore all stages of falling in love, lust, breaking up, and then moving on to another character.

Ex: Tamlin/Feyre/Rhys; Dorian/Aelin/Chaol/Rowan

She does it both ways. Here's the difference though:

The first method is minor stakes. It's typically just the beginning of a relationship, or a retrospective point of view. There is very rarely any physical intimacy. It is also typically only the female's point of view.

In my opinion, it shouldn't really even count as a love interest switch up. It is so small in the scale of things and it never pans out or is given any importance in the main story. It fizzles out after the first 10 pages (not literally guys chill), basically.

Then we get to the second method of her "love interest switch". She doesnt do this one often, and it takes MULTIPLE books to cover. It is about a MAIN FEMALE character. The Feyre & Aelins, if you will.

Both of those situations were not something that was just sprung on us without adequate build up.

Feyre fell in love with Tamlin. Met Rhys. Slowly fell OUT of love with Tamlin. Then fell in love with Rhys. It took her 3 books.

They did not have a romance in ACOTAR while she was still falling for Tamlin. That would've been like if she went to Calanmai, saw Rhys, and then decided she didn't want Tamlin and only wanted Rhys from then.

Aelin & Dorian and Aelin & Chaol were two relationships that were FULLY fleshed out. She did not abruptly leave Chaol and immediately fall for Rowan. These aren't instances where anything happened abruptly in a bonus chapter or even in ONE book- these "switch ups" happened over multiple books.

Now let's look at Elain and Azriel.

In the context of the series, let's evaluate where these two stand in the two ways SJM does a love interest switch up:

1. Minor character romance switch up

- Are Azriel & Elain minor characters? ❌ no

- Did they share only one sentence or paragraph thinking about each other? ❌ no, they had multiple major scenes together

- Was it from a female POV? ❌ no

- do they only briefly show physical intimacy? Yes ✅

So clearly, Azriel and Elain don't fit into the first type of "switch up" she does. The only criteria they fit is that they have had one scene of minor physical intimacy.

2. Major character love interest switch

- Are Azriel & Elain main characters at this point? Yes ✅

- Did Azriel & Elain get a chance to fully explore their relationship and fall in love? No ❌

- Did Azriel & Elain get multiple books to cover this changing of feelings? No ❌

So clearly, Azriel and Elain don't fit into the second type of "switch up" she does either. The only criteria they fit is that they are both major characters right now.

Now what did we conclude as a result of this long ass post, if yall are still with me on this 10k hike?

Azriel & Elain have had buildup together that cannot be ignored.

They have been the main focus (Azriel's Hybern camp rescue of Elain was VERY similar to Nesta saving/willing to die for Cassain)

They have had clear romantic feelings for each other as evidenced by the bonus chapter

They have obstacles in place now (thanks Rhys).

There's foreshadowing in droves scattered throughout the bonus chapters and books.

The natural flow of the story supports Elriel

The POV before Elain's book is Azriel's not Lucien's

SJM is on the Today show talking about rejected mates

SJM has made Azriel step into the role Lucien should have been playing for Elain

If you're willing to ignore this and say "Gwynriel could have a 50/50 percent chance of happening bc of the singular bonus chapter" ... then go ahead. But don't act surprised when you get the next book in your hands and it's indeed Elriel 🤷🏻‍♀️

There is always a slight chance the author could do anything. That's like if I said "yeah - in every soccer game there's a chance the goalie could stop blocking shots and let the other team win."

Like yes. Quite literally they could do that. It's up to them.

But is it likely? No.

Will it go against everything they've set up and trained for? Yes.

SJM could write Gwynriel. She could write Azris then too, as that has equal buildup. She could write Nezris or Azquin. She could write anything. But that minuscule possibly of "anything could happen" doesn't affect typical calculations when it comes to statistics, so I don't know why it's playing a part here. SJM's plot does not defy the normal laws of physics and chance🙄

So at the end of this long walk, if you're still with me, I just want yall to know that yes SJM could do anything she wants she's the author - but Elriel is the most likely conclusion by far.

[gl1tched-g0th]

Happy Pride. Can we celebrate by, just for the month, having fandoms not be weird about lesbians/lesbian-coded characters.

Can we acknowledge that just because a woman character exists, and doesn't stare directly into the camera like an episode of the Office to say "I Do Not Like Men", that doesn't mean they aren't lesbian?

Can we please acknowledge how fandoms, especially cartoon spaces, are not normal about lesbians and lesbian coding. Can we acknowledge that lesbian is not a "dirty" or "taboo" word, and that it is okay to admit that a character is just a flat out lesbian.

Can we not try to maneuver our way around it by saying "well they could be bi/pan!", like so many people do with lesbian characters. For example:

-Amity from TOH, confirmed lesbian. People still argue that she's bisexual, because she drew herself with a fictional nonbinary character from a book once in the entire show.

-Velma from Scooby Doo, confirmed lesbian. When she got confirmed, people still argued she was bi because she dated men in past shows/specials - despite her being visibly uncomfortable in the relationships in question. Some even argued it was "bi-erasure" to make her a lesbian, which is insane to me.

-Amaya from The Dragon Prince, confirmed lesbian. Before she was confirmed, people said she was a "bicon" instead of lesbian, despite her showing no interest in men within the show. All she did was have a male interpreter (because shes DEAF and needs one), and people immediately paired them together.

-Ellie Williams from TLOU, confirmed lesbian. She shows no interest in men, states multiple times that men are "not her type", has only dated/had crushes on women within all games, the show, and even the comic, and yet people still claim she's bi.

-Robin Buckley from Stranger Things, confirmed lesbian. There's not much I can say here. She came out as a lesbian in the show, and people still call her bisexual. The jokes write themselves.

-Sammy from Camp Cretaceous/Chaos Theory, lesbian-coded. She's often headcanoned as anything but lesbian, often excused with "she never Outright said she's a lesbian like Yaz said she was bi", or that a few crew members said she was meant to be ambiguous. Yet I see nobody questioning why she specifically - the only other main female character, and who has never shown interest in men - is being kept that way.

-Vanessa from The Hollow, lesbian-coded. Developed a friendship with a male character, but has never expressed romantic interest in men. Laughing at a joke made by the opposite gender, and wanting to impress a male character because of a need for validation are not signs of romantic interest, by the way.

I am not saying you can't headcanon characters as bi, or that bi people are "evil", or trying to ""police"" who you ship together or whatever else excuse people use to derail conversations about this. There is a frequent pattern within fandoms where a lesbian (coded) character exists + has any relationship with a man ever + doesn't explicitly state they don't like men = not a lesbian. And fuck, even when they DO say they don't like men, they are still seen as bi.

Queer-coding is just as eminent as having a character be confirmed as queer. And, surprisingly (sarcasm) that also applies to lesbian coded characters. Lesbian characters do not need to "prove" their lesbianism to the viewers by hating/isolating themselves from men to be lesbians. They do not need to say outright that they don't like men in order to be lesbian coded. They can have relationships with men without being romantically interested in them. Lesbians have been fighting for so long to not be seen as "needing" to be with men in order to just. exist.

And believe me I could go on a whole rant about how this entire issue has roots in misogyny within the community, or how some people still haven't unlearned the idea of how a man and woman can have an 100% platonic relationship, or how people treat calling a character lesbian as a "last resort", but this post is already a wall of text as it is.

Please just be normal about lesbians in media.

[fluffernuttermushroom]

KND Community Challenge

1: when did you start watching the show?

 I think it was near the end of 2023? I was introduced to the fandom by one of the comics that @fallen-gabrielle posted. I was a fan of old fashioned cartoons already and loved the unique art style! A few comics and several episodes later, I was hooked!

2: favorite season?

I haven’t watched trough the entire series yet(Currently on season 3). But Iike season three for all the new characters introduced!

3: favorite episode?

T.U.R.N.I.P.

T.H.E.-F.L.Y.

Q.U.I.E.T.

G.R.O.W.-U.P.

D.O.G.F.I.G.H.T.

F.U.T.U.R.E.

U.T.O.P.I.A.

4: hated episode?

P.I.N.K.E.Y.E. (ick)

5: favorite character?

Favorite character(s)!

Rachel(I often feel her ‘I have been everyone’s councilor at this point and I am tired of people’ feeling. Is this an INFJ thing?),

Hoagie(He reminds me of my cousin + we have the shared love for bad puns & dad jokes!),

Abby(Cool!),

Sally Sanban(I am obsessed with her for some reason),

Nigel’s grandson(Same reason with Sally. Dunno why), 

6: did you cry when you watch OP INTERVIEWS?

I didn't cry but It felt quite bitter sweet. I’m the sort of person who watches the end before finishing a series. So I kind of scrolled through the entire wiki and watched I.N.T.E.R.V.I.E.W.S. before actually watching the C:KND. It is an inevitable fate for all kids to grow up to grow old and gray at some point. But I have never seen characters grown up in a cartoon before. The whole episode made KND hit a bit too close to home to me. 

Ironically the episode that made me upset the most ended up being one of the reasons that I like about the KND. 

You will grow up

But you will never grow out of some things

7: funniest moment?

Wally saying “C’mon she already has every single rainbow monkey there is!”

And then watching in horror as the rainbow monkey aircraft coming into view before saying;

“Oh yeah, except that one.”

8: saddest moment?

Abby giving up in Operation M.A.U.R.I.C.E. after facing that every one she knows and loves in the KND will turn into teens & forget about her eventually. 

9: favorite KND artist?

Again, can’t pick just one! This is going to be long so the list of artists and why I like them are listed below

10: favorite canon KND ship?

3x4 and 2x5

11: favorite headcanon KND ship?

Ummm... can’t choose! Straight, Gay, Lesbian, Pan, Poly, Platonic I love & have them all!

I have a lot of different head cannons for different scenarios.

But the ones in my fanfiction are currently 1x362, 60x86, 2xAce(the kid), 83x84, 23x35

12: what's one thing you love about the fandom?

The thousands of fan theories, fan fiction with their own interesting head cannons, multiple aus and crossovers, and of course the beautiful fanart with unique art styles!

13: what's one thing you hate about the fandom?

Those weird pedo & insest shippers that keep spawning out of nowhere

14: do you wish there were more die hard KND fans in the fandom?

YES. A thousand times YES.

15: when did you start drawing KND art?

Near the start of May 2024 and have been drawing almost daily ever since! But It’s mostly animation plans and sketches so I don’t post often nowadays 

:P

16: how old were you when you started drawing KND art?

Hm, will answer that on my birthday.

17: how old are you now and are you still drawing KND art?

Same with the answer above! I will answer on my birthday

18: what's one thing you wish would stop in the fandom?

The pedo & insest ships, art thefts, rude requests and just disrespecting other people.

19: quick pick your favorite 2×4?

M.A.R.B.L.E.(Mustardy Armament Releases Big Loud Explosion) and 

G.A.R.G.O.C.Y.C.L.E.(Granite Augmented Rocket Glider Outstandingly Creates Your Cool Looking Escape)!

20: what's your Codename?

Numbuh 9.24!

(KND Community Challenge Template Credits To @arudan)

+Answer to question number 9

@fallen-gabrielle: The one who brought me into the fandom + has a lot of lovely AUs!

@midnight-the-goth-artist: Satisfies my inner goth, has helluva boss inspired art

@gen-toon: Beautiful angles & poses

@numbuh02: The scratchy art style!

@artsygirl0315: Her OCs remind me of ENA! And they interact with the fandom often

@elijaheldridge: FLOOF EVERY WHERE

@mixxxerlyishere: OC with a unique design! 

@scarlett-v-the-fox: The head cannons for minor KND characters are really intricate

@bluccoli: Rare fellow Korean KND artist & takes a lot of requests!

@gettan49: Still reading ‘Operation:  BEYOND’ it’s a really well made fanfiction

@parasite-doll: Always love the creepy art style

@mixx0: The sillies (OCs)

@kandykatz: Uses the tumblr aesthetics to it’s full extent + draws hair really well!

@bluepastels29: Insane attention to detail to her cloth designs

@numbuh900: G:KND OCs!

@numbuh-72: Great at KND edits! It looks like a part of the show if I don’t look closely

@ohlookanothercartoontofallinto: Lineless art. LINELESS ART.

@kndrules: Sector V as grown-up comics!

@sok-knd: Uses brushes really well & has a lot of different art styles 

@kukiiisblog: 3x4 art in webtoon + old cartoon style

@numbuhinfinitys: Reyna and their  cute shenanigans with the delightful children

@your-genious-artistic-girl: I dunno how she makes line arts that clear! Mine are always squiggley

@pennywhistle2021: Numbuh 30c art! Most of the fan art of 30c that I find on deviant art is theirs

@knd1234isme: Numbuh 4 in every form possible

@torra-and-the-toons: Has really specific Nigel head cannons + old cartoons!

@spicedwatermel0n: Not picky with ships & is understanding with others 

@kidsnextdoor-doodles: Moonbabies :)

@pinkmeanschaos: KND genderbend everything! And a fellow 60 x 86 shipper

@bugtoonz: Pastel art! Their art is always easy on the eyes

@rubiisun: The art style always gives me a fluffy feeling

@kommandonuovidiavoli: Everyones favorite grandma :) Penny’s chaotic nature always tickles me

@rainbowbeam231: Uses colors really well with her OCs!

@totallynoteggos: Unique concept with making the (Y/N) self insert as and OC!

@some-loozzr: Good with lighting! + The spank-happy sector V members look so scrappy I love them

[atinylittlepain]

Maybe, probably, definitely

college!steve harrington x f!oc

A continuation of Warm. Steve and Andy are keeping things casual... or maybe not.

18+ 90s au in which I fuck with the timeline, smut, two scrungly idiots in love, Robin and Eddie being Robin and Eddie, generally a fun little silly little time okay? okay.

.................................................

“Nah, I don’t think so.”

“Please, it’s so obvious.”

“I just think it’s unlikely, is all. He had like, women losing their minds over him, still does.”

“Okay, and? Have you seen the videos of him and Clarence kissing?” Easy, easy, and warm in her little corner kitchen, something steaming and savory stirring in the pot on the stove, her hip bumping against his every time she steps away and back to add a pinch or a glug of something else to the soup, making his cheeks round and pinken every time she slides half a smile his way. He laughs, shakes his head, and she pulls a face at him, pointing her wooden spoon at his chest.

“What’s so unbelievable about Bruce being bisexual?” 

“Nothing, nothing, I just don’t think there’s enough evidence for or against your theory yet.”

“So you’re a Springsteen agnostic?” Two bowls and two spoons and one bowl and one spoon is for him, and how lovely, how lovely to have a place here with her, slipping into her spot in front of the stove to serve them both while she slices a few pieces of bread.

“Gonna have to see a little more evidence, honey.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll keep building my case. Robin agrees with me, you know.” He’s not sure what he makes of Andy and Robin being friends before they had even been introduced. It had caught him off guard, Andy coming with him to one of Eddie’s gigs, and her and Robin chatting with an easy familiarity. Robin had failed to mention that they’re both in some kind of feminist consciousness-raising group on campus, and have been for two years. 

“Well, Robin thinks everyone’s a little gay so, I’m still not convinced.” Darkness On the Edge of Town is crackling and crooning in her cassette deck, Springsteen walking Streets of Fire, sending them both into a little sway at the counter, the light turning blue and dim in the little square window above the sink, frost filaments and threads around the edges of the panes. And the bread she’s slicing is from some friend of a friend who’s gotten into sourdough, because Andy has friends who get into sourdough, though when she pulls the loaf apart it looks more like chewed gum than bread in the middle. They make do with a few tortillas fried and folded with a fistful of cheese in a pan instead, settling down around each other with steaming bowls on the couch. 

“Oh hey, Syl, hey, baby.” The baby in question is digging her claws into his pants leg and crawling up his thigh. Steve hadn’t met Sylvia until the third or fourth time he stayed over, woken up from a deep, warm sleep to something tugging at his scalp. He thought it had been Andy being a little mean in that way he likes, a halfway delirious smile spreading and bleary eyes opening and he had been very wrong, met with the sight of a creature curled up next to his face and chewing on the ends of his hair. Emphasis on the word creature, not cat, no. And when he returned to his own apartment that morning and told Robin he met Sylvia, she had promptly said oh, the ballsack cat, yeah. He was inclined to agree with her on that title, and is still inclined to agree now, watching the hairless animal’s wrinkles curl and fold as she climbs up his chest, bap, bap, bapping at his throat while Steve holds his bowl of soup overhead and out of her swiping range. Andy keeps telling him that Sylvia likes him, even as she curls her hand around the cat’s middle to peel her off him, her claws catching in his sweater and she really likes you, Stevie. Yeah, he’s not so sure about that. But Andy’s cooed Stevie softens him, just a little. 

“Are you playing this weekend?” 

“Yeah, just a round robin thing on Saturday with some other teams.”

“Can I come watch?

“If you want to, I don’t know if it’s gonna be that interesting though.” Andy had come to watch a few of his club basketball games last weekend, and yeah, maybe a little puff of pride in his chest, maybe hustling a little faster, maybe taking more shots. And afterward, when his team mates asked him if that was his girl cheering for him on the bleachers, he had sniffed, and pointedly informed them that she’s not a girl, she’s a woman. 

“On the contrary, I think those shorts you wear are very interesting.”

“Are you objectifying me right now?” Her thumb and forefinger pinch together, smile scrunching to the side as she tries to hold in a laugh. 

“What can I say, you have a very objectifiable ass.” 

“I knew it, knew you just wanted me for my body.” An easy shuffle, both of them dissolving in a breath of laughter and soup bowls being set aside and Andy’s aw poor baby, how’s it feel coming out breathless as she settles her thighs around his hips, making him bark a single high note when her hands creep down his back and down into his back pockets and squeezing as best she can with her hands squished between him and the couch.

“If you rip these tights I’m never kissing you again.” His hands wandering, bunching up the dark green fabric of her dress, pretty thing that he watched flutter around her shins on the walk from class to her apartment. He palms her ass, fingers pressing greedy into the fat covered by knit brown tights, little pinch, little pull of the fabric and snapped back, making her huff at him.

“I don’t think I could if I tried. They’re fucking thick, how am I gonna get you out of these, huh?”

“It’s cold out, Steven. I need them to stay warm.” And of course, of course, if she pitches one down the middle he’s gonna swing, his grin turning smarmy as he tilts his chin up to smack a kiss to her mouth that lands more on her cheek with the way she ducks him, him mouthing into her skin I’ll keep you warm, honey. 

Andy cut all her hair off recently, leaving a spiky bob that’s a little too short to be called a bob and he likes it. Before, he’d hide his face in the fan of her hair, tucking his nose into the juncture of her neck and breathing deeply. Now it’s wildly easy access to let his mouth drag up the column of her throat, making her squirm in his hands, little tug to his hair where her fingers are threaded through mean. And somewhere in the background the piano is spilling out a desperate tune and Clarence is breathing hard into his sax and Bruce is whining in that dark rasp about proving it all night, girl, I’ll prove it all night for your love and he’s humming the words into her sternum while they stumble and shrug off the couch, a small whirlwind of him rucking her dress up and up and off and she’s in nothing but that damn pair of tights, her spine curling beneath his hands when he ducks his head down and presses the open heat of his mouth over her nipple, long sigh, and another stumble up against the wall next to her bedroom door. 

He’s doomed, he knows it. How badly he wants her, and when he gets her, how needy, how greedy. Got up at seven this morning to walk across campus and shovel her stoop because she had complained about nearly slipping the other day, and it was worth it when she came down still in her robe and soft an sleepy and pulled him inside to press kisses to the already red tips of his ears and his cheeks and his nose, let him sit with a warm cup of coffee and watch her roll those tights up her legs while she told him about a paper she’s writing about Jane Ussher’s conception of critical realism. He did his best to listen, to hold onto the details even as his brain wandered to the soft drop of her breasts as she leaned over herself. And it’s extra terrible, he thinks, that she seems to want him just as much, or close to it, at least, her hands slipping up under his sweater, the light scratch of her nails against his stomach, swallowing the whine that loosens in his chest when her fingers dip under the waistband of his jeans. Hands and teeth and tongues and give and take and an indignant chirp from somewhere at their feet when he steps on what he’s pretty sure was a paw, a murmured sorry ball– sorry, Sylvia when he closes the bedroom door before the cat can slip inside with them because no, not making that mistake again. And when he turns back around, he finds her standing there devastatingly smug, because she knows, she knows how freakishly foolish she has turned him, her hands on her hips and still in her tights and that little spill of softness over the waist of them and he wants to put his mouth there, there, and bite down just a little. Normal want, right? Right. 

“Come here.” She says it again, quiet c’mere with her shoulder hiked up and her cheek dropped to the slope of it and he’s never saying no to that, bare feet padding and hands finding the soft spill of her waist, her hips, tugging down and down and down on his knees and he’s got her laughing with how he holds onto her ankle to help her step out of the rolled-down fabric of her tights, pressing a kiss to the notch of bone there for good measure. Being with her, around her, he finds himself doing things he would have scoffed at, things the king would have scoffed at. But she makes him feel young and dumb in that giddy, good way, new, makes him forget the rules he had made for himself to make things like this easier. There is nothing, he has realized, that has been quite like this. 

For all the teasing, all the little taunts, she’s gentle where it counts. Makes him feel like something good, something real beneath her hands and her mouth, gentle when she pulls off his sweater and smooths back his hair from his face, always doing that with a kiss pressed to a temple, his brow, the crinkle that pulls next to his eye because he’s always smiling like a fool around her. And when they’re both bare, a little breathless from all the little pets, little kisses, curled around each other with her duvet tugged down around their hips because sweat is starting to build and pool in the soft hollows of their skin, they hold onto each other through the soft shake of it, hips and bellies and that sweet, simple sate. He comes with his face pressed against her heart, sweat and salt stinging his eyes and her hands holding him steady and she hums his name as a high sound in her throat, and he thinks that this could maybe, probably, definitely be called love. 

“Hmm.”

“Hmm?” He can see the shadow of her smile, the streetlight outside casting a warm wash over the bed, shadows of snowfall speckled on her cheek.

“Should probably get a shower.”

“Probably.” Even as he says it he’s pulling her closer, her feet hooked around his ankles, bare chest to bare chest and her hands tucked under his arms, thumbs brushing down the rungs of his ribs, sweat cooling a little humid, the beat of their hearts lulling slow in the aftermath.

“I don’t have class in the morning, do you?”

“At eleven, macroeconomics.”

“How bleak, gonna solve the debt crisis?”

“For you, I’ll try.”

“Oh please, Steve, you can’t just say stuff like that.” Little shove to his chest, though he just holds her tighter.

“Why not?”

“You’re gross. We’re gross.” 

“The grossest, honey.” 

“I like that.”

“What, being gross?”

“No, you calling me honey, I like that. No one’s called me that before, it’s cute.” He likes the feeling of the soft, melting line of her body pressed snug against his, her words breathed out on a sigh somewhere between sleep and not. 

“Noted, honey.” 

“You’re such a dick, Do you wanna do breakfast in the morning?” A quiet mmhmm, mmhmm? mmhmm from both of them. Sleep, he finds, comes easily like this. 

And in the morning, they wake up in a different tangle, both on their stomachs, her arm slung between his shoulder blades and his hand curled around her hip. They move with half-opened eyes and hoarse voices, hot shower and cool bathroom tiles and he’ll just wear his clothes from yesterday to class, he doesn’t care. But she still offers him a clean sweatshirt from that co-op she said she worked at freshman year (don’t laugh, Steven, I had free produce for months) and he puts it on, leaves the hood up to smell more of her while he watches her move around her kitchen from the little table tucked into the corner of the room. Sylvia pads over, sniffs at his bare feet and licks his pinky toe before clawing up the leg of his jeans with her front paws, stretching out and peering up at him. He gives her a cursory pat between her ears, and she doesn’t seem to care for that, a low rumbling noise that sounds like a complaint as she pushes off of his leg and slinks over to settle on the arm of the couch. 

“I have this leftover pumpkin bread, do you want some?” Said over her shoulder while she stirs eggs in a pan, her jeans half-unbuttoned and the hem of her sweater rolled up to expose the bare round of her hip. And it’s a simple thought, but it’s true, he likes looking at her. 

“Is it from the friend who got into sourdough?” 

“Be nice, she just started. And no, it’s from that bakery we went to last weekend.” And so there’s scrambled eggs with sharp cheese, how he likes them, and chopped peppers, how she likes them, and strong coffee, how they both like it, and a heel of pumpkin bread just starting to go stale that they make easy work of, breaking off pieces and dipping it into their coffee, quiet and their knees brushing with how close they are on chairs tucked into her small table. 

He leaves her place with a warm stomach and a swimming mind and the kiss she pressed to his cheek still blooming heat even in the snap of snow and cold. And whatever the professor lectures about in his eleven o’clock class is lost to him, sorry, he’s there but not there. There but still in the doorway of her apartment, and her all but shooing him off because I made you breakfast, that’s enough domesticity for the day, mean but not meaning it. He’d linger in her doorway all day if she let him, he thinks, fail all his classes, be presumed dead to the world, and he’d probably enjoy doing it. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Robin in the kitchen when he gets back to their apartment, dipping a banana directly into the peanut butter jar, and he doesn’t have enough of a mind to scold her for it.

“Nothing’s wrong with me.”

“Where’d you get that sweatshirt? Is it new? I haven’t seen it before.” 

“It’s Andy’s.”

“Oh, that’s what’s wrong with you. Did you sleep over? I didn’t hear you come home last night. How is your lady friend?” A waggle of her eyebrows as she pockets her last bite of banana in her cheek. He tries to side step her, and she mimes his movement easy enough, blocking his exit from their kitchen, her grin spreading. 

“Rob, please, I have a paper I need to–” 

“Oh, oh, I know that look.” And before he can ask her what she means by that she’s already shouting down the hall for Eddie because emergency family meeting is needed in the kitchen, thank you very much.

“What’s going on?” Easier to ride this out, to let Robin tug him into the living room and sit him down, Eddie on her heels.

“Steve’s in love.” 

“What? Robin–”

“Wait, with cool girl? Fuck, what’s her name again?”

“This is seriously none of your business, and–”

“Andy, with the boots, you met her last week.”

“We’re both casual, it’s casual, it’s a casual–”

“That’s right. I like her. Good work, Steven, you somehow found someone normal and cool this time. Remember that last chick?” 

“Hey–”

“With the hair?”

“She was–”

“And that perfume, woof.”

“Andy isn’t–”

“I’m pretty sure she was eating my leftovers out of the fridge, you know.” 

“I’m not–”

“No, really? Wouldn’t put it past her, that girl was—”

“Are you two done yet?” Mercifully, it’s enough to get them to stop their little back and forth, mouths shutting and faces turning to look at him like twin imps. 

“You’re in love, Steve, and before you say something like ugh Robin, no I’m not, ugh Robin, how could you possibly know that, I know these things, okay?”

“I don’t talk like that.” Eddie taps in, Robin standing smug with her arms crossed over her chest.

“She’s right, man, you’ve been kinda, well, yeah.” 

“What does that mean?” And what follows is another volley between his wretched roommates, Steve somewhere in the middle, dumbstruck.

“Sighing around the apartment like a kicked dog.”

“Getting snitty when you’re about to leave for one of your dates.”

“You smile like a freak when she’s around. Like a creepy, beautiful, vaguely Germanic doll.”

“You talk about her all the time. Like, all the time.” 

“You’re in love, man.”

“Indubitably so.”

“Hey, I say congrats, I actually like this one. Rob?” 

“I concur, bring her for dinner, this family meeting is adjourned.” Just like that, Robin rubbing her hands together in one loud clap and Steve doesn't even have a chance to get a word in edgewise, both her and Eddie already in their coats and their shoes and out the door because they both have class in twenty and bye, loverboy. He’s left on the couch in something close to a stupor. 

Maybe, probably, definitely he thinks. Though he’s not going to admit that to Robin or Eddie. God forbid they get one right. 

[therethatstar]

im working on a short phumpeem au.

something about soulmates. or perhaps nothing about soulmates. just phum losing his mind over how pretty peem is. you know…the old regular shmegular

here’s a little peak. the rest will be edited and posted … whenever 😅

***

In the realism of it all, soulmates don’t exist.

Phum knows this among many other things.

You meet people, you fall in love and the world doesn’t set on fire and you don’t perish into flames.

Yet, it’s an idealism that humans fall back into, the theory of your soul being just one half of another.

And Phum thinks about it sometimes. Soulmates.

He sometimes wondered what it would be like to meet his soulmate. If the stars will collapse, if the world will stop spinning. Will the earth orbits its focus until it sinks and immerses itself into the very moment where he looks into his soulmate’s eyes for the first time.

Because Phum feels it, regardless of realism and idealism, an invisible grip that tips over in his chest. And it’s the whole ordeal, hook line and sinker. And yet, it’s not. The world doesn’t stop, the constellation above him doesn't come crashing down. Phum’s breath isn’t being stolen and his eyes aren’t popping out of his skull. In all the ways it has been told over and over in books and movies.

And yet it’s all of those things. Phum looks into the man’s eyes, and everything shifts, ever so slightly. His heart rate is a racketing mess and he feels his breath get knocked out of his chest. And everything stops, yet it doesn’t. It’s all in his head, it’s in the pure need to taste the moment on his tongue; relishing in the way the desire is seeping through the veins that run through every core of his being and he craves for it so fervidly that he’s willing to drink in the lies. The abstract idea of soulmates.

And perhaps, when it all comes down to it, soulmates is merely a deceptive belief to one’s mind; but Phum, for once, doesn’t mind selling his soul and conscience to such false perception of reality. Just once.

Because after all, soulmates never really deal with realism.

Phum can hear the meat sizzling on the stone pan as Pun sings along to something by Radiohead and every time his eyes drift to the man across from the bar countertop, the man is looking at him. Entirely too confident to seem shameless about it.

Phum averts his eyes to the few customers that they have and he feels the way his chest tightens from being under such scrutinizing eyes, lack of breath centering around his heart.

“You got a chef with good music taste back there,” the man points his eyes towards the kitchen, fingers grazing the glass of his drink, lips lifted subtly.

Phum wants to laugh, Pun is hardly a chef and Radiohead is overrated but he’s not about to say that.

Phum smiles back, “I’ll make sure to let him know.”

The man doesn’t say anything to that, eyes quietly watching. He glances down at Phum's shirt and Phum’s gaze naturally follows him, “fan of Naruto?”

“Who isn’t a fan of Kakashi Hatake?”

The man raises his eyes at that, chuckling under his breath, “so a fan of pretty looking boys.”

The man quirks his mouth so slightly, sizing Phum up and Phum knows that he knows Phum is watching him. He sips the drink from the frosted glass and there’s this hint of shy abrasiveness like he doesn’t know what he’s doing. Like he doesn’t know what he looks like to Phum. Or at least, he wants Phum to think so. It’s for show, Phum knows this among many other things but yet, he trips over over regardless. Head first into a void that feels completely bottomless, sucking him into the pit blackness.

“You could say that,” Phum answers him, eyes shifting to the door in case they have any customers coming in. He turns back to the man who sits there, looking at him, arms crossed over the hardwood countertop, so fucking pretty under the cheap lamplights and Phum never had such a desire to see someone in broad daylight before, wondering if the sun has anything on someone that looks like the man sitting across from him.

The wetness of the man’s lips is all too distracting and Phum’s heart yanks. It hasn’t stopped yanking ever since this man stepped into the restaurant. And he has all of Phum’s attention with the way he’s staring at him under his dark lashes, “do I pass the test?”

Phum must have got all up in his head because his brain comes to an immediate halt as he looks away from his shiny lips, “huh?”

“You like boys who are pretty. Do I pass the test?”

He stares at Phum, at Kakashi on his shirt, then right into his eyes. Waiting. Anticipating. Like he knows the response Phum would give. Like Phum is just one of the guys. Just a guy. Someone. No one altogether.

Phum doesn’t answer, instead he says, “can I have your name?”

Because among other things, Phum needs to know his name. From the moment the man stepped inside the diner, Phum’s heart had tossed a line to him and sank its hook in, catching on the vessels and he’s so drawn to this practically stranger of man that his heart and body and mind no longer feel like they belong to him.

And soulmates aren’t real. Phum reminds himself.

The man squints his eyes at him, there are small wrinkles at the corners of his brown orbs and Phum has the sudden urge to sooth them away with his fingers, his mouth.

“Normally, you tell yours first before you ask for someone else’s.”

“Not big on formally.”

This time the man laughs, genuinely laughing, “or subtlety. It’s Peem. Since you seem so eager to know.”

Peem.

Phum easily gives in, “I was.”

Peem is looking at him now, dark, measured, almost unabashedly staring at him, almost shamelessly. Almost. Phum wouldn’t even mind that. Shamelessness would look ridiculously good on Peem, all bare and slicked with sweat under the dim light. Peem meets his eyes and they stay there. “Your place or mine?”

And Phum is no longer 19, freshly entering university and learning the normality of hooking up for the sake of hooking up. Phum is in his mid 20s and he has done this far too many times. Because sex is sex. Desire feeds desire. And afterall, humans are just the animals that feed on intimate connections. Yet his brain short circuits at the blunt suggestion, something rewires, reroutes, shifts its entire focal point, “um…give me 30 minutes. We close in 30 minutes.”

Peem makes a face at that, nose slightly scrunched up and it’s cute. It’s such a misleading front he’s putting up. A contradiction to the way he dresses all in black and the way he talks like he wants Phum to taste his names on his lips, over and over. Peem looks far too lethal for someone who looks like the softest, sweetest, prettiest thing anyone has ever seen.

“I give you 10 minutes, max. I’m not waiting any longer.”

Demanding. Entirely too fucking certain. Like he knows Phum isn’t much of a type to put up a fight. Like he has Phum exactly where he wants him, weak and pathetic under his mercy.

And Peem must have known this. How ethereal he is under these artificial restaurant lights, an enticing little thing with the way the glint of the fainted brightness hits him just right, gleaming at the high of his cheekbones. And Phum can see the dip of his thin waist underneath the silk button down, imagining what it would be like to imprint his fingers on the curve of his hips, feeling the flex of his muscles between his hands.

“Do you–” and Phum lets the words trail off, a little too dazed, brian and mouth running on a different frequency. There are questions that sit at the tip of his tongue. Do you like quiet walks under the moonlit night? Do you like your hand being held? Do you always size men down to their knees? Do you like being kissed? On the lips. At the curve of your long neck. Between your shoulder blades. Between your legs after I make you wet down there. Instead, Phum asks, “do you always get what you want?”

And perhaps, he’s throwing Peem off a loop but Phum isn’t trying too, he’s genuinely curious if Peem does it on purpose. Demands for what he wants, knowing that he will get it. Inevitably.

Peem doesn’t answer, instead he slips off the stool, placing the dollar bills on the countertop, glancing back at Phum. At his lips, his gaze lingers, “guess we’ll find out.”

[bitethehnd]

omg i’ve had the biggest brainrot over ur naomi & taylor!reader & rewatching the eras tour i have 🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️ thoughts

i can imagine reader! having a chat w naomi when they’re ready to make it official and actually tell everyone they’re together (god knows everyone’s figured it out but shh let them have their moment) & reader! asks if they can make it official during the show but doesn’t tell Naomi how,, they’re just like trust me it’ll be good and naomi is like ok !! anything for u !! & during karma reader! sings “karma is my baby on the screen, coming straight home to me!” & they somehow get naomi’s live reaction on the big screen megatron thing of reader fully making it official to everyone mid show and they’re just in AWE

& in the same show when reader! sings “you’re in love” they do a lil speech about how this song was written for someone else completely and after everything that went down, they hated this songs because it brought back so many bad memories (or something) but now they have someone who makes them feel like this song is the reason for existence again and it just cuts to lil naomi sobbing aAAA i truly love that fic so much i still have so many thoughts about it thank u thank u thank u

⊹ ‧₊˚ ౨ৎ you are in love

pairing : naomi mcpherson x popstar!reader

a/n : ANON I LOVE YOUR BRAIN KISS KISS

at this point during your eras tour, the two of you are already together. you think you’re all sneaky but literally everyone knows… naomi looks at you like you gave them the moon so it’s quite obvious, but everyone lets you two have your fun!

the first people you told were obviously katie and jo. they both had fake surprised looks on their faces but said the two of you deserved to be happy. then ensue the countless jokes and comments from jo.

the boys were thrilled too! since phoebe had also opened for you, she had taken a guess that you two had a thing for each other and then her suspicions were confirmed. julien fist pumped naomi and lucy gave you a big hug!! you guys are adorable fr.

next came telling the world about the relationship. you two held off for a few months, wanting privacy, but it seemed twitter was already aware of it. everyone had their theories and some were so outrageous that you just wanted to tell everyone yourself.

you told naomi your feelings on the matter and they immediately agreed, no questions asked. they were ready to show you off and not have to hide. you suggested doing it during your next show, and like anon said, naomi is just like “whatever my princess wants, she gets!!! anything for her!!”

you quickly put your plan into motion. you decided your surprise song for the next show would be “you are in love” from 1989. it perfectly described how you felt about naomi. you came up with some ideas for the speech you would give before hand and it went something like this…

“the next song that i’m going to play is one that i haven’t performed in so long. i wrote it about someone who i thought was going to be my forever, but it just didn’t end up that way and it left me with some sad memories. i have never felt the need to play this song since then, but now everything has changed. even if i originally wrote this about someone else, my partner renewed it into something so pure and now has a reason to exist again. i love you.”

the camera doesn’t pan to naomi just yet, since you wanted to build suspense. for dramatic effect, of course. but jo and katie make sure to get their reaction on video. it’s just naomi basically happy crying and laughing with tears under their eyes. even when you guys are a whole stadium apart, the invisible string between you is there.

when it was finally time for the last era of songs, from midnights, you were planning to do a lyric swap in “karma.” the actual lyric was “karma is my girlfriend,” but obviously naomi was not a girl and the song originally wasn’t written about them, you planned to change it to something that made you happier. when the time came to sing “karma,” you looked right into the vip section where naomi was and sang “karma is my baby on the screen, coming straight home to me!” cut to the camera panning to naomi and they’re just giddy, laughing and crying all at the same time. when you told them you were going to make it official, this is definitely not how they imagined it, but they weren’t complaining.

you just wanted to show the world your love for them and honestly didn’t give a shit what anyone thought. the two of you just existed in your own little bubble, feeling like you were just singing to them.

after the show was over and naomi practically sprinted backstage, their beaming smile lit up the room as they saw you. they pulled you in for a fierce hug and pressed gentle kisses to your forehead.

“that was the sweetest thing in the entire world, baby. i love you so much.”

“so you liked it? it wasn’t too much?”

“never. that was, like, magical. can’t believe you did all that for me.”

“i’d do anything for you, nom.”

© bitethehnd

[agatharkn3ss]

Episode 6 initial thoughts

Ok, so first things first - I can't pretend, I'm feeling pretty smug right now, I posted this before the episode aired. So when I saw Lilia in the first few minutes, I literally screamed... Predicting the sigil story right is going to be my humble brag for the rest of the year.

My Teen theories didn't pan out quite as well, but at least I got some of it - the bar mitzvah, the reincarnation and his resulting confusion, the reason, why he wanted the locket and that he was missing Tommy... And I got Ralph Bohner right!!!!

where is that blue pentacle scene going to come in then, I wonder?

I loved how Billy has actually crossed paths with everyone from the coven!

Lorna Wu was the inspiration for the Road. Should've seen that coming.

William/Billy story is a sad one, but I mostly feel bad for the parents. They don't even know they lost their son!

Billy is the BLACK HEART!

I need to cool down first, but it looks like Rio is the master manipulator here. Is she after Billy? Couldn't get the body when William died so she's trying to right the wrong?

I am certain Rio feels connected to Billy because of his literal "near death experience". She knew about the black heart and she knew how he was looking for the locket ("are you hiding evidence?" the second Billy attempts to break in). Maybe she can read him like he can read minds?

Is it possible she can traverse/predict time too? She seemed to know what Lilia was going to say about Salem Seven in the last episode.

OR Rio was sent to Agatha from the future, from Lilia as Lilia dies and Rio comes to collect her? So that Rio warns Agatha about Salem Seven? Aghrrrrr blurb. I need to sleep on it.

I laughed so hard at the whole "Agnes" stage. I have watched Agatha's pov in ep.1 so many times, that I can almost quote what she thought he was saying and I just couldn't stop giggling. Beautifully done.

Oh, the reunion talk. Kathryn, I love you so much. Every line was funny and meaningful and full of all sorts of emotions. It was the highlight of the whole episode. This is the reason and the reminder that we are watching "Agatha all along" and not "Billy"

Wonder if Billy knows that Lilia and Jen are alive? Did Rio save them? Or Alice? Either way, he didn't seem THAT bothered. So much for his previous speech about killing witches not being "for him".

Now that Billy hype is over, can we go back to focusing on Agatha for the rest of the show? Please, thank you.

[mlchaelwheeler]

Is the end scene of S4 actually Will's "Vecna vision"?

I just want to quick point out that this possibility was first pointed out by @heroesbyler in this post. I'll be adding some of my own evidence to Stav's original idea, as well as doing some theorizing.

So we know S5 is going to pick up right where S4 left off. We also know that S5 is action-packed from the start. Let's take a look at the final scene of S4, starting from when Will feels Vecna outside Hopper's cabin.

Look how warm the lighting is in this scene! It has warm hues, particularly yellow and orange. However, the minute Will feels Vecna in the back of his neck, the lighting immediately changes.

The scene becomes much darker, the lighting turning towards a blue/grey hue. This is the moment I believe Will entered his trance from Vecna. Let's take a look at the lighting in the scene where Max entered her Vecna vision.

Look familiar? The scene starts out in very bright lighting then quickly shifts to darkness. Why isn't the lighting for Will's vision so starkly different? It's because this is a plot device to throw off the audience's suspicions after S4. No one expected Will to get tranced right at the end. No one would expect the scenes they believe to be real to actually be fabricated by Vecna. It's called suspense! It's a stunning plot twist!

This isn't my only evidence though. Another strange thing about the final scene is that the grass/flowers are decaying right in front of the characters' eyes. El picks up a flower and it disentegrates to pieces. That seems weird, given how far they're standing from a gate.

The nearest gate is way in the distance, perhaps even a mile away. Why is only the grass by the characters rotting? The ground by other gates we've seen looks perfectly normal.

I believe this is because where Vecna goes, things rot. Think back to Chrissy's vision. The table of food she runs across is rotted and decaying. The pit Fred falls into also is rotting and greyish. It's hard to tell with Max's vision, since the entire ground is covered by fog. Yet we can probably assume that where Vecna walks (or around him) is where the ground rots, just like what we see only near the characters in the final scene of S4.

Extra Byler theory about Will's vision:

The final scene makes a big show of Jopper and Jancy holding hands, with Mike and Will standing close to each other, but not touching. There is even a zoom shot on Hopper grabbing Joyce's hand for extra emphasis.

What if Will's vision in S5 starts out with Mike grabbing his hand? Will is startled, but smiles. The camera pans down to their hands linked, only for Mike's hand to fade, replaced by Vecna's. "This is what you've always wanted, right William?" This would be a great parallel to Vecna posing as both Susan and Billy to inflict maximal trauma on Max. Imagine if Vecna is in that final scene, but disguised as Mike.