#your characterization and thought into her

[mcrdvcks]

heyy i have a request for logan and reader where they get in an argument which results in either reader gives him the silent treatment or they both do and just ignore each other until logan does something about it!!

how you get the girl

summary: After an argument with Logan, you both stop talking to each other. word count: 7.6k+ pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader notes: this somehow became much longer than i thought it would, lol. also, i wrote in emma frost, but i based her characterization off of her in marvel rivals (so what if it's a videogame? she's hot asf-) also, i wrote something similar a while back with old man logan! check it out here: things i wish you said warnings/tags: angst, angst, angst (like... so much), happy ending, asshole!logan, bamf!reader, don't settle for less than you deserve y'all, silent treatment

You sighed as you stepped through the mansion doors, exhaustion settling heavy in your shoulders. Your day had been long—endlessly long—and teaching mutant teenagers about control and responsibility had felt particularly draining today.

You glanced around, hoping for Logan. Seeing him always eased the tightness in your chest after a bad day. But as your eyes scanned the foyer, there was no sign of him.

“Hey, Ororo,” you greeted softly as you saw her passing by. “Seen Logan?”

Ororo paused, offering you a gentle smile. “I believe he’s outside. He seemed a bit… restless today.”

You nodded, feeling unease curl slightly in your stomach. “Thanks.”

Outside, you found him sitting on the steps of the mansion’s back porch, cigar in hand, expression dark and contemplative as he stared into the distance.

“Hey,” you called gently, stepping up beside him.

He barely glanced at you. “Hey.”

His voice was flat, the usual warmth gone. You frowned, hesitating only a second before sitting next to him. “Rough day?”

“Something like that,” he muttered, taking a slow drag and releasing the smoke into the chilly air.

You studied his profile carefully. Logan was closed off more often than not, but this felt different—like he’d already decided to shut you out.

“Logan,” you prompted softly. “Talk to me.”

He sighed, frustration evident in the way his jaw tightened. “Nothing to talk about. Leave it.”

“Clearly, there’s something. You don’t have to pretend—”

“I said leave it,” he snapped, his voice sharper than he’d intended.

You recoiled slightly, hurt flickering across your face. “I’m just trying to help—”

“Yeah, well, maybe you shouldn’t,” Logan said abruptly, his eyes finally flicking to yours, harsh and defensive. “Maybe you shouldn’t try so hard, Y/N.”

Anger twisted tightly in your chest, clashing against your exhaustion. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means exactly what it sounds like,” he growled, flicking his cigar onto the grass. “You’re always pushin’, always tryin’ to fix somethin’ you got no damn business fixin’. Maybe you’d be better off not carin’ so damn much.”

“You think I enjoy pushing you?” You stood abruptly, disbelief turning quickly into hurt. “Logan, all I’ve ever done is care about you.”

“Yeah, and look how well that's goin', sweetheart,” he shot back bitterly, rising to his feet. “Maybe you'd save yourself some trouble if you didn't count on me so damn much.”

Your heart sank, pain sharp and immediate. You swallowed, feeling your throat tighten painfully. “So that's it, huh? Caring about you is the problem?”

He didn’t respond, jaw clenched, gaze hard and distant.

You shook your head, stepping back. “Fine. Message received, loud and clear.”

Turning quickly, you walked back toward the mansion without another word, refusing to let him see the tears already threatening to spill. Logan remained rooted to the spot, fists clenched at his sides, the angry words he'd hurled at you already burning bitterly in his throat.

He watched you leave, regret creeping in even as he stubbornly refused to call you back.

And just like that, silence fell between you both—thick, heavy, and painfully loud.

---

You always had a hard time sleeping. Before dating Logan you would just pop some sleeping pills—a little more than the recommended dose—and hope for the best. But when you started dating, and sharing a bed, you found it a little easier to fall asleep.

The warmth of being held, him rubbing your back, murmuring sweet nothings. But tonight, you popped those sleeping pills and curled up in bed long before Logan got there.

You were awake, eyes closed, breaths slow and careful when you heard the bedroom door open softly. Logan’s footsteps were quiet, almost hesitant as he paused at the edge of the bed, lingering for a long moment. You could feel his gaze heavy on your back, the mattress dipping slightly as he sat down carefully on his side.

Neither of you spoke, and the tension filled every silent second. You focused intently on keeping your breathing steady, even as your chest felt unbearably tight.

"Y/N?" Logan’s voice was quiet, almost tentative. A careful prod in the silence.

You didn’t answer, pretending instead that sleep had already claimed you.

Logan exhaled softly—frustration, regret, maybe both. He shifted beside you, and for a brief moment you thought he’d reach out, rest his hand on your shoulder, try to make things right. But instead, he settled down, turning his back to yours, the heavy sigh that slipped from him enough proof that he was just as stubborn as you.

Sleep came eventually, but it was restless and filled with vague, half-formed dreams that left you tired when morning came. Logan’s side of the bed was empty and cold, no lingering warmth to suggest he’d stayed beside you long.

The silence persisted.

You dressed quickly and quietly, making your way down to breakfast where the usual bustle of the X-Mansion filled the room with chatter. Logan was already there, hunched over his coffee and glaring down at the newspaper like it had personally offended him. You pointedly avoided looking at him as you poured yourself coffee and quietly moved toward an empty seat by Jean and Scott.

"Morning, Y/N," Jean greeted softly, her eyes flicking to Logan briefly before landing back on you. Her expression shifted subtly, perceptive as always. "Everything okay?"

"Fine," you answered shortly, sipping your coffee and focusing on the table.

Across the room, Logan shifted slightly in his chair, clearly listening.

Jean glanced at Scott, who wisely decided to stay out of it, turning back to his breakfast without comment. Jean lowered her voice, leaning closer. "If you need to talk—"

"I said it's fine," you snapped, sharper than you intended. You sighed immediately after, guilt tugging at your chest as you glanced at her apologetically. "Sorry. I didn't sleep well."

Jean squeezed your arm gently. "Understood."

You didn’t look over, but you felt Logan’s eyes on you from across the room, heavy and intent. Ignoring him took effort—every fiber of your being wanted to turn, snap something sarcastic, or glare at him—but instead, you deliberately kept your attention on your coffee and Jean's quiet, sympathetic presence beside you.

It went similarly during dinner. You sat in your regular spot, except you were the first one at the table. No Jean across from you, no Ororo on your left, and certainly no Logan to your right.

You felt a presence sit down next to you, but you kept your eyes down on your plate, not looking over.

"I take it this seat isn't usually vacant?" a smooth voice drawled softly beside you.

You stiffened immediately at the sound of Emma Frost's unmistakably confident tone, the way she seemed to relish the tension. Slowly, you forced yourself to glance over, keeping your expression carefully neutral.

"Usually isn't," you replied evenly, offering nothing more.

Emma tilted her head slightly, regarding you with a cool, appraising gaze. "Trouble in paradise?"

You exhaled slowly through your nose, irritation flaring sharply beneath your forced calm. "Is there something I can do for you, Emma?"

She smiled faintly, picking up her glass and sipping elegantly before placing it down again with an almost deliberate precision. "Not particularly. But seeing as how Logan's sulking on the other side of the room like a wounded puppy, I figured I'd make use of the empty seat. You know how much I enjoy shaking things up."

You frowned, unable to resist the quick glance over your shoulder. Logan sat by himself at the far end of the table, a plate barely touched in front of him. His jaw was tight, eyes glaring daggers into Emma's back. When your eyes met his briefly, he quickly looked away, annoyance clear in every stiff movement.

"You picked the wrong day, Emma," you said shortly, picking at your food with renewed agitation. "I'm not in the mood."

"Oh, darling, that's precisely why I picked today," Emma replied smoothly, completely unfazed by your sharpness. "It's hardly ever interesting around here when things are peaceful."

"You could just leave," you pointed out flatly. "Then you wouldn't have to worry about boredom."

Emma laughed softly, the sound like expensive silk—cold and smooth and utterly unbothered. "And miss moments like this? Please. Watching Logan stew is just icing on the cake."

You didn't answer, instead focusing pointedly on your food. Despite your best efforts to ignore her, Emma seemed thoroughly content to remain, sipping her drink and occasionally casting you sidelong glances.

Finally, you broke the silence, irritation fraying your voice. "Did you need something specific, Emma?"

"Actually, yes." She leaned forward slightly, voice lowering conspiratorially. "I'm genuinely curious—how long are you going to keep up this little silent-treatment game? You two are rather notorious for being nauseatingly affectionate."

"None of your business," you muttered stiffly.

"Oh, come now, Y/N." Emma's lips curved slowly, eyes glittering with something sharp and dangerous. "Everyone in this mansion can feel the tension rolling off both of you. Honestly, you're both exhausting."

You pushed your plate away abruptly, your appetite utterly gone. "Emma, whatever game you're playing, go play it somewhere else. I've had a long day."

She arched a delicate brow, unfazed. "Believe it or not, I'm doing you a favor."

"How exactly is this a favor?"

She glanced pointedly across the room, eyes briefly landing on Logan before returning to you, perfectly composed. "He's stubborn and prideful. If you expect him to break first, you may be waiting quite some time."

You refused to look over, despite the overwhelming urge. "Again, none of your business."

Emma shrugged lightly, leaning back in Logan's chair, legs crossed elegantly beneath the table. "Suit yourself. But in my experience—and believe me, I've dealt with men like Logan—these standoffs rarely end with dignity intact."

You narrowed your eyes, finally turning your head fully to face her, your tone sharp. "And just what are you suggesting, exactly? That I go apologize when he's the one who—"

"I'm not suggesting anything," Emma interrupted calmly, her eyes cool but surprisingly sincere. "I simply dislike the tedious atmosphere your stubbornness creates. Handle it or don't, I honestly don't care. But this silence is exhausting for everyone."

She stood gracefully, smoothing her clothes as she cast a last amused glance toward Logan, whose expression was now practically murderous. Emma smiled faintly, clearly pleased by the reaction she'd provoked. "Good luck, Y/N. For your sake, I hope this resolves sooner rather than later."

You watched her go, jaw clenched tightly, a swirl of anger and embarrassment twisting uneasily in your gut. Before you could even consider Emma's words further, footsteps approached again. You glanced up sharply, expecting Emma to have returned to further antagonize you.

Instead, it was Ororo. Her gentle expression was cautious but kind, a stark contrast to Emma's calculating smirk.

"Do I even want to ask what that was about?" Ororo asked softly, taking the seat Emma had just vacated.

You sighed, rubbing a tired hand over your face. "Emma being Emma."

Ororo hummed softly, eyes drifting briefly across the room. "Logan looks particularly irritable tonight."

"Yeah," you said shortly, biting the inside of your cheek as you stabbed at your food half-heartedly. "He's made it very clear he wants space."

Ororo studied you quietly for a moment, thoughtful. "Perhaps it's less about wanting space and more about needing it."

You looked at her sharply, frustration bubbling up. "What does that even mean?"

Ororo's eyes were sympathetic but firm. "You know Logan better than most. He isn't good at asking for help or accepting comfort. It's easier for him to push people away."

"And I'm supposed to just accept that?" you asked, the anger in your voice giving way slightly to hurt. "He said things, Ororo—things he can't just take back."

"No," she agreed softly, "but he can apologize. If given the chance."

You shook your head slightly, swallowing down a lump of emotion you didn't want to deal with. "I don't think he plans to."

Ororo reached over, squeezing your arm gently. "Just because he's stubborn doesn't mean he isn't sorry. Give him some time."

You nodded stiffly, blinking quickly to chase away the prickling tears of frustration gathering at the corners of your eyes. "Maybe. I just... I don't know."

She smiled gently, leaning in and speaking softly enough for only you to hear. "He misses you. Anyone can see that."

You didn't answer immediately, the ache in your chest twisting tighter at her words. Your eyes betrayed you, drifting across the dining hall despite yourself, and finding Logan's gaze already locked onto yours. For a long moment, neither of you looked away, stubbornness and hurt caught between you, tangled and raw.

Eventually, Logan broke first, his jaw working tightly as he pushed away from the table roughly, leaving the dining room without another glance your way. You swallowed down the tight lump in your throat, staring blankly at the empty doorway he'd disappeared through.

Ororo sighed softly, understanding in her eyes. "He'll come around, Y/N. Logan always does."

You managed a small, humorless laugh, shaking your head slowly. "I wouldn't be so sure this time."

She squeezed your hand softly, sympathy in her voice. "I am."

You didn't answer, your mind stuck replaying the fight, Logan’s harsh words still echoing painfully in your chest. And as much as you wished it didn't bother you, Emma's smug voice kept slipping back in too—reminding you that waiting him out could be a long, miserable ordeal.

So you resolved to do just that—to wait. Logan was stubborn, but you could be stubborn too. If he wanted silence, you’d give him all the silence he could handle.

It was Logan's move now.

---

Sometimes the mall was relaxing. You could walk around, buy new candles, find a few nice shirts, and even get a pretzel and a coffee.

Today, it felt like an escape—somewhere to be without Logan’s heavy presence lingering in every corner of the mansion. It was the third day of your stalemate. No conversations, no hellos, no goodnights, nothing. Just tense silence and carefully avoided eye contact.

So you wandered slowly, idly browsing a display of candles labeled with names like "Lavender Fields," "Cozy Cottage," and "Stormy Nights." You lifted one of them to your nose, inhaling deeply before setting it back down with a sigh.

"That good, huh?"

You turned, startled, to see Jean standing behind you, a small smile on her face.

"Oh. Hey, Jean," you said, setting the candle down gently. "Didn't see you there."

"Clearly," Jean teased softly. She glanced around the shop. "Retail therapy?"

"More like avoidance therapy," you admitted dryly.

Jean hummed knowingly, falling into step beside you as you moved toward another shelf. "Still not speaking to Logan?"

You sighed, reaching for another candle absently. "He started it."

She chuckled softly, glancing over the label on the candle you'd picked up. "I'm sure he did. But are you going to let him end it, too?"

You groaned lightly. "Please, I had this conversation twice already. Once with Ororo, once with Emma—of all people—and I really don't need another lecture."

Jean laughed quietly, picking up her own candle. "Fair enough. No lectures, just friendly observation."

You shot her a wary look. "Which is?"

She smiled gently. "Logan doesn't know how to fix it."

"Logan hasn't even tried," you said stiffly, placing the candle back down with unnecessary force. "He made it pretty clear I'm the problem."

Jean shook her head slowly. "That's not true, and you know it. He's hurting too. He's just too stubborn to admit it."

"Stubborn is an understatement," you muttered, wandering toward the clothing racks. Jean followed easily, letting the silence sit between you for a moment.

She fingered through some shirts, pausing to look at you seriously. "Would it really kill you to reach out first?"

You glanced at her sharply. "Why do I have to be the one?"

"Because you're the emotionally mature one," Jean teased gently. "And because Logan is—"

"Emotionally constipated?" you supplied flatly.

Jean laughed brightly, nodding. "Yes, exactly."

You smiled slightly despite yourself, turning back to the shirts. "If I do it, then it becomes a pattern. It’ll only ever be me running to him for a mistake he made. I don’t want to be the kind of girl who has no self-worth.”

Jean exhaled softly, setting the shirt she’d been looking at back on the rack. "I get that, Y/N. But I don’t think Logan sees it that way. He’s… complicated."

You snorted lightly, shaking your head. "That’s the understatement of the century."

Jean nudged you playfully, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Okay, more than complicated. He's stubborn, prideful, emotionally closed-off—"

"Are you trying to help or convince me to leave him?" you interrupted dryly, earning a small laugh from Jean.

"Listen," Jean said softly, turning serious again. "You and Logan are good together. He’s better when he’s with you—softer, happier. And you’re more grounded, more confident. The two of you… you balance each other out."

You chewed your lip thoughtfully, avoiding her eyes. "Maybe. But I don’t know how many times I can do this. How many times I can put my heart out there, only for him to stomp all over it when he's having a bad day."

Jean was quiet a moment, her voice gentle when she finally spoke. "That's valid, Y/N. Completely valid. But ask yourself honestly—is it really worth this much misery just to prove a point?"

You stayed silent, unable to answer right away. You didn’t want to lose your pride, your self-respect—but you missed Logan terribly. The stubborn silence that filled every space between you was becoming unbearable.

Jean sighed, resting a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Just… think about it. Okay?"

"Yeah," you murmured softly, giving her a small nod. "I'll think about it."

---

Returning to the mansion was like stepping back into the cold tension you'd managed to briefly escape. You half-expected to see Logan brooding somewhere, cigar smoke trailing behind him like a dark cloud—but he wasn't in the common room, wasn't lingering around the halls, wasn't out back.

Instead, you found Scott, grading papers at the kitchen island, glasses sliding low on his nose. He looked up when he heard you come in, giving you an awkward, sympathetic smile.

"Hey, Y/N," he greeted softly. "You doing okay?"

"Fine," you replied automatically, grabbing a glass to fill with water.

Scott raised an eyebrow, putting down his pen. "You don’t have to pretend. Logan’s been a moody nightmare, so I can’t imagine things are fine."

You chuckled humorlessly. "You don’t have to deal with it. I'm pretty sure he's avoiding me at all costs."

Scott shrugged, leaning back on his stool. "Maybe. Or maybe he doesn’t know how to approach you after… you know."

You turned, leaning your hip against the counter as you faced him. "What did he say to you?"

Scott hesitated, clearly uncomfortable being in the middle. "He didn’t say much. Just snapped at pretty much everyone who asked him about it. You know how he is."

"Yeah, unfortunately, I do," you sighed tiredly, sipping your water slowly.

"He’s miserable though," Scott added quietly. "Whatever happened… it’s eating him up."

You shook your head slowly. "Then he should be the one doing something about it."

Scott gave you a faint, sympathetic smile. "I'm not arguing with you there."

You pushed away from the counter, moving towards the hall. "Thanks for caring, Scott. But I'm tired of everyone making excuses for him."

"Hey, I'm not," Scott called after you softly. "Just stating facts."

You waved a dismissive hand, offering him a tired smile as you left the kitchen.

---

The next morning, you were in the kitchen making tea for your thermos when Logan walked in. Despite every part of you wanting to just rush out, you didn’t. You stayed calm and continued making your tea, adding a little bit of milk and sugar.

Logan came next to you, grabbing a mug and pouring himself some coffee from the pot. “You doin’ okay?” He asked.

You let out a quiet breath, “yeah, fine.”

Taking Jean’s advice, you stayed, waiting—hoping—that Logan would say something, anything else. But nothing came. He stood there, silent, sipping his coffee.

You let the silence stretch on, hoping against hope he’d speak first, that he’d find something, anything to say.

But Logan remained quiet, his gaze firmly fixed on the countertop, the tension in the room thickening with every passing second. Finally, the realization settled heavy in your chest—he wasn't going to say anything.

He wasn't going to apologize.

You sighed quietly, feeling something crack inside your chest as disappointment seeped through your veins. Without another word, you closed your thermos, deliberately not looking at him as you turned to leave the kitchen.

"Y/N," Logan called suddenly, his voice rough, hesitant, stopping you mid-step.

You paused at the threshold of the kitchen, not turning to face him. Instead, you stared straight ahead, waiting.

Logan hesitated again, and you could practically feel the frustration radiating off him. "Nevermind," he finally muttered.

You clenched your jaw tightly, disappointment turning quickly into quiet, simmering anger. "Right," you said softly, barely louder than a whisper. "That's what I thought."

Then you walked out, leaving him standing there, the silence heavy in your wake.

The rest of your day passed in a numb blur of classes and grading assignments, Logan's stubbornness gnawing at the edges of your thoughts, distracting you in ways you wished it wouldn't. You'd hoped—maybe foolishly—that he'd at least have tried to talk to you again by dinner.

But he didn't.

In fact, when dinner came around, Logan was nowhere in sight. His absence, though annoying, felt intentional. Like he was deliberately trying to avoid even the slightest possibility of confrontation.

You sat quietly at your usual spot, ignoring the sympathetic looks Jean shot your way, ignoring Emma's knowing smirk from across the room. You kept your head down and finished dinner quickly, the silence between you and Logan stretching unbearably through the meal.

Later, as you curled up alone in bed, your mind was restless. You glanced at the clock—nearly midnight—and Logan still hadn't come upstairs. His avoidance was clear, and it hurt more than you'd care to admit. Sleep felt impossible, your heart and mind racing despite the exhaustion settling deep in your bones.

When the bedroom door finally opened an hour later, your heart skipped a beat, eyes shut tight as you pretended to sleep.

Logan hesitated in the doorway, lingering silently for what felt like forever. Finally, he moved into the room, sitting heavily on the edge of the bed.

You kept your breathing steady, your back to him, waiting anxiously to see if he'd finally break. If he'd finally say what you desperately wanted—needed—to hear.

Instead, after several tense, silent moments, Logan stood up again, footsteps soft and cautious as he left the room. The door clicked quietly shut behind him, leaving you alone once more, the ache in your chest growing sharper by the minute.

The next day dragged, each class feeling longer and more draining than the last. You tried your best to act unaffected, smiling tightly at the students and nodding absently at your colleagues. But beneath the carefully maintained facade, your mind kept returning to Logan, replaying every cold, tense moment since your fight.

"You look exhausted," Ororo observed gently later that afternoon, finding you alone in your classroom, leaning heavily against your desk.

You sighed, rubbing your temples tiredly. "Understatement of the century."

"Still not resolved?" she asked softly, stepping further into the room.

You shook your head. "He's not speaking, I'm not speaking. It's just... silence."

Ororo sat beside you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Maybe someone has to be brave enough to break it."

You laughed quietly, without humor. "Why does that someone always have to be me?"

"Because you have patience," Ororo said gently. "Because you love him enough to push through the stubbornness."

"And he doesn't?" you challenged bitterly.

Ororo gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze, understanding shining in her eyes. "Logan loves you deeply. He just... struggles. You know that."

You sighed deeply, exhaustion creeping into your bones. "I know. I just... don't know if I can keep doing this. I don't know how many more times I can be the one who bends."

She smiled softly, her voice kind. "I understand, Y/N. I just don't think either of you want to lose each other. You need to decide if being right is worth more than being happy."

Ororo's words lingered heavily with you throughout the evening, your thoughts swirling restlessly as you climbed into bed again—alone, once more. Logan hadn't returned, and you wondered bitterly where he'd chosen to spend the night instead.

You lay awake, eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling, tension knotting your stomach until sleep finally, mercifully, claimed you.

When morning came, you felt groggy and unrested, each movement heavy with fatigue. You went through your morning routine numbly, showering and dressing without enthusiasm. Eventually, you made your way downstairs to the kitchen, dreading another quiet standoff.

Instead, you found Logan already there, leaning against the counter, staring into his mug as steam rose softly around his face. You paused in the doorway, debating whether you should just turn around and walk out again.

But Logan looked up, his eyes meeting yours and holding your gaze firmly.

"Morning," he greeted quietly, voice rough and cautious.

"Morning," you returned carefully, stepping further into the kitchen and deliberately looking away as you moved to fill your thermos.

For a long, tense moment, Logan said nothing else, merely watching you with that unreadable expression that frustrated you endlessly.

"Y/N," he finally started, voice uncertain, hesitant.

You turned slowly, lifting an eyebrow expectantly. "Yeah?"

He paused, visibly struggling, eyes dropping to his coffee again. "About... about the other night—"

"What about it, Logan?" you interrupted, heart thudding painfully in your chest.

He clenched his jaw briefly, frustration flickering in his gaze. "I didn't mean it the way it came out."

You scoffed softly, shaking your head as disappointment settled bitterly in your throat. "That's your apology? 'I didn't mean it'?"

Logan sighed, annoyance flashing in his eyes. "Dammit, Y/N, I'm tryin' here."

"Are you?" you challenged sharply, voice low and fierce. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're doing everything you possibly can to avoid actually apologizing."

He stared at you, jaw tight, irritation radiating off him in waves. "Maybe I ain't good at sayin' I'm sorry."

"No kidding," you muttered bitterly, turning away again, angrily twisting the lid onto your thermos.

Silence settled thickly around you both, tension coiled and ready to snap at any moment.

"You know what, Logan?" you finally said quietly, voice shaking slightly. "I’m not asking for much. I’m just asking for you to say you're sorry and for you to mean it.”

He stood there, mug clenched tightly in his fist, jaw set and eyes stormy. He opened his mouth briefly, then shut it again sharply, frustration clear on his face.

"I’m not askin' you to pretend it didn’t happen," Logan muttered roughly, voice tense. "I messed up. Ain’t denyin' it."

You exhaled slowly, forcing yourself to remain steady despite your shaking hands. "Then say it. Tell me you're sorry."

He glared at the countertop, stubborn pride still holding his words back. "It ain’t as simple as that."

"Actually, Logan, it really is," you snapped quietly, hurt and anger intertwining. "It's two words. Two simple words."

"Yeah, well," he muttered, voice low and defensive, "I told ya I'm not good at this."

"Logan," you began sharply, your patience fraying quickly, "it's not about you being 'good' at it. It's about you acknowledging you hurt me."

He ran a hand through his hair roughly, frustration evident in every line of his posture. "You think I don't know I hurt you? You think I ain't been kickin' myself every damn minute since?"

You shook your head slowly, feeling exhausted down to your bones. "I don't know, Logan. You've barely looked at me, you don't speak to me, and when you finally do—it's this. Defensive and angry and completely closed off."

"I'm tryin' to tell you—"

"No," you interrupted sharply, voice shaking with emotion, "you're trying to get out of apologizing. You’re trying to get me to move past it without ever having to actually deal with it."

He slammed his mug down hard enough to make you jump, coffee sloshing onto the counter. "Dammit, Y/N! What do you want from me? Blood?"

"I want an apology, Logan," you snapped, voice breaking slightly, eyes stinging with angry, frustrated tears. "That's it. I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me you regret what you said."

His jaw clenched tightly, eyes blazing. "Yeah, well maybe words don't come easy for me. Maybe you ain't figured that out yet."

You turned fully to face him, swallowing past the tight lump in your throat. "Oh, I figured it out a long time ago. I just hoped—maybe stupidly—that I was worth the effort."

His expression faltered briefly, a flicker of guilt and uncertainty crossing his features. "You are, dammit," he ground out roughly, frustration clear. "I ain't sayin' you're not worth it—"

"Then prove it," you challenged fiercely, stepping closer, your eyes locked onto his. "Stop telling me all the reasons you can't and start giving me a reason to believe you actually care."

He stared back, stubborn silence heavy between you both. You waited, chest aching, heart pounding—but Logan said nothing.

"Right," you finally whispered, disappointment bitter on your tongue. "I get it."

Turning away abruptly, you grabbed your thermos from the counter and left the kitchen without another word. You refused to look back, refused to see whatever expression might have flickered across Logan’s face, refused to let yourself feel hope or guilt or anything except the quiet, simmering hurt that had taken root deep inside your chest.

The rest of your day passed in miserable quiet. Teaching felt exhausting, conversations draining. You avoided common areas, avoided the dining hall, avoided anywhere Logan might be. Every interaction felt superficial and forced, every smile brittle.

When night finally fell, you stayed in your classroom far later than necessary, grading papers until your eyes blurred and your head ached. Eventually, though, you couldn't put it off any longer. Slowly, reluctantly, you headed back toward your shared room, heart heavy with dread.

Logan was already there, standing by the window, staring out into the dark grounds. He glanced your way when you walked in, eyes guarded, jaw tight.

"You're back late," he muttered, tone carefully neutral.

"Needed to finish grading," you replied stiffly, moving around him to grab pajamas from the dresser.

Logan hesitated, shifting slightly, tension clear in the set of his shoulders. "You eat yet?"

"Not hungry," you said flatly, refusing to look at him.

He sighed quietly, frustration evident. "Y/N—"

"I'm tired, Logan," you interrupted shortly, your voice quiet but firm. "I really don't want to do this right now."

He turned sharply, glaring your way. "Don't wanna do what, exactly?"

"This," you said bitterly, finally meeting his gaze head-on. "The tense small-talk. The pretending we're fine when we're obviously not. If you're not ready to apologize, fine. But don't expect me to act like everything's normal."

Logan’s eyes darkened, irritation flashing clearly. "So what, then? We just stay quiet forever? Act like strangers?"

"Until you figure out how to apologize?" you challenged quietly, frustration and exhaustion clear. "Maybe we should."

Logan's jaw twitched, eyes narrowing, fists clenched at his sides. "You really wanna play it that way?"

"No," you whispered tiredly, turning away to hide the sudden tears blurring your vision. "I don't want this at all."

He said nothing else, and neither did you. Instead, you grabbed your pajamas and disappeared into the bathroom, changing slowly, your heart heavy and aching. When you finally emerged, Logan had already climbed into bed, his back facing your side of the mattress.

You hesitated briefly, exhaustion warring with stubbornness. Eventually, your tiredness won out, and you climbed into bed beside him, careful to keep distance between your bodies. The mattress felt miles wide, the silence deafening.

You lay awake, staring at the wall, frustration and hurt twisting tightly in your chest. Beside you, Logan's breathing was heavy and uneven, clearly awake, clearly as restless as you were.

Neither of you spoke.

The next morning was no better. You dressed in tense silence, moved around each other stiffly, carefully avoiding any sort of interaction.

At breakfast, you sat alone, barely eating, gaze locked firmly onto your plate. Logan sat across the room, sipping coffee and glaring at nothing. Jean, Scott, and Ororo glanced between you both warily, clearly uncomfortable with the heavy tension filling the room.

Emma sat down by you, her nails clinking against her mug.

“You’re not gonna tell me to apologize to him, are you? Because I’ve already heard that, and I’m not doing it.”

Emma’s perfectly manicured eyebrow arched upward, an amused smirk pulling at her lips. “Oh, darling, trust me. I'm the last person who'd encourage you to do that.”

You blinked, slightly taken aback by her quick and confident reply. “Really?”

“Please,” Emma scoffed lightly, elegantly stirring sugar into her tea. “Logan may have the emotional range of a teaspoon, but that’s his problem, not yours. Frankly, I’m impressed you've put up with his nonsense this long.”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help a small, humorless laugh. “At least someone’s on my side.”

Emma shrugged gracefully, sipping her tea calmly. “You’ve gotten far too comfortable letting Logan off the hook simply because he finds genuine emotional expression inconvenient. You're right to hold your ground. He's an adult, Y/N. It's long past time he acted like one.”

You sighed deeply, stabbing your fork into your untouched breakfast. “It's exhausting. Everyone else keeps making excuses for him. 'Oh, it's just Logan.' 'He doesn't mean it.' 'He's trying.' At what point do those excuses stop being enough?”

Emma watched you thoughtfully, her voice softening just a fraction. “They stopped being enough the moment you had to start justifying basic decency and accountability.”

You looked up, surprise flickering briefly through your eyes. Emma wasn’t exactly known for her empathy, yet here she was—making more sense than anyone else had so far.

“So, you agree? I'm not asking for too much?”

She leaned back slightly, lips curving into a knowing smile. “You’re barely asking for the bare minimum, darling. Logan may find this terribly challenging, but that's his burden. Not yours. If he can't manage a simple apology when he's clearly in the wrong, he's got no business being in a relationship.”

The bluntness of her words stung, but there was something comforting in her honesty.

“Harsh,” you murmured softly, your gaze drifting across the dining hall toward Logan, who was doing a poor job of pretending not to glance your way every few moments.

“But true,” Emma insisted firmly. “You've spent enough time apologizing for both of you. If he wants you back, he can bloody well put in some effort. And if not—well, perhaps he's doing you a favor.”

Your chest tightened painfully at the thought, but you nodded slowly, considering her words. “I guess I never looked at it that way.”

She placed a delicate hand over yours, her voice surprisingly gentle. “I know it hurts, Y/N. But remember, you’re worth far more than constantly bending to accommodate his pride.”

A soft sigh slipped from your lips, exhaustion and resignation heavy in the sound. “It would just be easier if he’d meet me halfway. Hell, I'd even settle for a quarter of the way at this point.”

Emma squeezed your hand lightly, an uncharacteristically supportive gesture. “Don’t lower your expectations just to make it easy for him. Logan’s been coddled for too long. If he genuinely cares, he’ll figure it out.”

You glanced up sharply, meeting her cool, unyielding gaze. “And if he doesn't?”

“Then at least you'll know exactly where you stand,” Emma said calmly, sipping her tea once more. “Uncertainty, darling, is far worse than a painful truth.”

You looked down at your plate again, pushing your food around absently. “I just—I've never been good at giving up.”

Emma laughed softly, leaning back in her seat. “Then don’t. You're not giving up—you're giving him an opportunity. The choice is his. Stop trying to make it easier.”

The dining hall doors opened, breaking the tense moment as a group of students bustled in, chatting loudly. Emma rose elegantly, gathering her empty cup.

“I have to go terrify my next class into submission,” she said lightly, flashing you a smirk. “But think about what I said.”

You nodded, offering her a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Emma.”

“Don't thank me yet,” she teased dryly, her eyes flicking briefly toward Logan's brooding figure across the room. “Save it for when he finally manages to scrape together a coherent apology.”

She turned on her heel, exiting the hall gracefully, leaving you alone again. You sighed softly, considering her words carefully. Emma's perspective was harsh, blunt—but undeniably fair. It was refreshing, even comforting, compared to the gentle yet endlessly patient suggestions from Jean and Ororo.

---

That night, the cycle continued. You would be in bed, wide awake, when Logan walked in and finally stayed, getting into bed, facing away from you.

Except this time, you couldn’t take it any longer. Couldn’t take the fact that you had to try and fall asleep like a wooden plank, or the fact that you missed curling up to Logan.

Perhaps, above all, it was the fact that you felt like you were trapped in bed, a place you were supposed to relax.

You slowly sat up, legs dangling off the side of the bed as you grabbed your two pillows and moved to your desk to grab your throw blanket.

Behind you, you felt the mattress shift. Logan stirred slightly, but you refused to glance over your shoulder. Silently, you picked up your phone and charger, determined to move somewhere else—anywhere else—that felt less suffocating.

“What’re you doin’?” Logan’s voice was gruff, thick with sleep, but you could hear the alertness beneath.

You paused for a moment, gathering your resolve before speaking. “Going to sleep somewhere else.”

Logan sat up, the rustle of blankets loud in the quiet room. “It’s past midnight. Where the hell else are you gonna sleep?”

“The couch,” you answered flatly, still not looking at him as you bundled your things together. “Or maybe my classroom. It doesn’t really matter.”

He exhaled heavily, frustration evident in the rough sound. “Y/N, c’mon. Don’t do that.”

“Why not?” you snapped bitterly, finally turning to face him. “We’re already practically strangers. Might as well make it official.”

Logan clenched his jaw, clearly struggling with what to say. He ran a rough hand through his hair, eyes dark and unreadable in the dim moonlight. “You don’t gotta do that. Just come back to bed.”

“Why?” you challenged, anger simmering beneath the quiet hurt in your voice. “So we can lay here in angry silence? Pretend this isn’t happening? I’m exhausted, Logan. I’m tired of pretending.”

“You think I ain’t tired too?” Logan growled softly, frustration deepening in his voice. “You think this is easy for me?”

You sighed heavily, gripping your pillow tighter. “No, Logan, I don’t think it’s easy. But I also don’t think it’s fair that I’m always the one trying to make things right. I shouldn’t have to beg you for an apology. I deserve better than that.”

He swallowed visibly, his eyes narrowing slightly in the shadows, jaw working. “I know.”

Those two simple words caught you off guard, your anger faltering momentarily. You stared at him, unsure how to respond.

“You know?” you repeated carefully, guardedly.

“Yeah,” he muttered roughly, dropping his gaze. “I know. You deserve a hell of a lot better than me.”

Your heart twisted painfully at the defeat in his voice. “Logan—”

He shook his head sharply, cutting you off. “Don’t try and argue that. It’s the truth. I ain’t good at this. I ain’t good at talkin’ things through, I ain’t good at apologizin’ when I screw up. And I know I screw up—a lot. So, yeah. You do deserve better.”

Your grip loosened slightly on the pillow, uncertainty creeping in. “You don’t get to make that decision for me.”

“I ain’t makin’ decisions,” Logan said flatly, frustration flickering back into his voice. “Just statin’ facts.”

You stepped closer, setting your blanket and pillow down on the chair. “Then try, Logan. Just try. You think I don’t know you’re bad at this? I do. But I also know you’re capable of more. And if I didn’t think that, we wouldn’t still be here.”

He looked up at you sharply, his gaze intense, searching yours carefully. For a long, tense moment, neither of you moved, neither of you spoke.

Finally, Logan exhaled slowly, his voice gruff but softer than before. “I didn’t mean what I said that night. ‘Bout you carin’ too much.”

You nodded slightly, crossing your arms protectively. “It sure felt like you did.”

Logan’s jaw tightened briefly, frustration evident, but he didn’t look away. “I lashed out. It was a rough day. Lotta old memories comin’ back—things I thought I put behind me. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“Then why did you?” you asked softly, your anger fading slowly, replaced by the ache of exhaustion. “You’re supposed to trust me, Logan. To lean on me. Instead, you pushed me away.”

He swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper when he spoke. “I got scared.”

Your chest tightened, surprised by the raw honesty in his voice. Logan wasn’t someone who admitted fear lightly—if ever. You moved even closer, your tone gentle now. “Scared of what?”

“Losin’ you,” he admitted quietly, the words tumbling out with obvious difficulty. “Eventually, you’ll realize you can do better than some stubborn, broken-down asshole like me. It’s just a matter of time.”

Your breath caught slightly, heart aching at the vulnerability in his voice. “Logan,” you whispered softly, “do you really think I’d still be here if I didn’t want to be?”

He shrugged slightly, not meeting your eyes. “Sometimes, I dunno.”

Slowly, you moved back to sit beside him on the bed, careful to keep a cautious distance, but close enough to show you weren’t running. “Well, you should know by now. I’m here because I want to be. But you have to let me in, Logan. You have to give me something to work with. I can’t be the only one putting in the effort.”

Logan’s hand twitched slightly, hesitantly reaching out until it brushed yours, fingers tentative. “I know. I ain’t makin’ excuses, just… tellin’ you the truth. I’m not good at apologies. Never have been.”

You watched him for a long moment, the careful honesty in his eyes slowly chipping away at your anger. “Maybe it doesn’t have to be a perfect apology,” you said gently. “Maybe it just needs to be real.”

He nodded slightly, throat working as he forced the words out. “I’m sorry, Y/N. For what I said, for pushin’ you away, for makin’ you feel like I didn’t care. I do. More than you know.”

You let out a slow breath, your shoulders relaxing a little as the words sank in. “That’s all I needed, Logan. Just that.”

He sighed softly, relief evident in the slump of his shoulders. His fingers tightened around yours, more confident now. “So, you stayin’?”

You hesitated, looking down at your entwined fingers, the comfort and warmth of his touch grounding you in a way you’d desperately missed. “Only if you promise we’re done with the silent treatment. I can’t keep living like that. If we fight, we talk it out. Even if it’s hard.”

He gave a low, rough chuckle, a faint smile flickering briefly across his face. “Deal. Even if I’m terrible at it.”

“I’ll take terrible over nothing,” you murmured, smiling softly despite yourself. “At least it’s a start.”

Slowly, Logan reached out, carefully wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you gently against him. You sighed, relaxing into his familiar warmth, exhaustion and relief mingling together until you felt tears stinging your eyes.

“I really am sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered, lips brushing gently against your temple. “I ain’t ever meant to hurt you.”

“I know,” you whispered back quietly, your voice soft but firm. “But you did. And that means you have to make it right.”

“I will,” he promised quietly, his voice rough with sincerity. “Whatever it takes.”

You nodded against his chest, allowing yourself to finally relax fully into his embrace. It wouldn’t fix everything—not immediately, at least—but it was a start. And right now, that was enough.

For the first time in days, the silence that fell between you was comfortable. The tension was still there, buried beneath careful apologies and cautious promises, but finally, you felt hope beginning to thread its way back into your heart.

And tonight, as you allowed Logan to hold you close again, you knew with quiet certainty that no matter how frustrating he could be, no matter how stubborn and closed-off he seemed, he was worth the effort.

And finally, finally, you were sure—without a shadow of a doubt—that Logan believed you were worth the effort too.

[lovetei]

PLEASUE GYARU READER WHOSE LIKE A LITTLE SHY Y'KNOW BUT WEARS THIS BOLD FASHION AND MAKEUP ?? WITH THE DEMON BROTHERS AND MAYBE DIAVOLO IF YOU WANT ?? I DONT MIND

I am so fucking tired

GYARU CHOU KAWAII

This is short, I'm sorry :((

--------------------------------------------------

The characters reaction to a GYARU!MC whose sense of fashion is bold but their personality says otherwise

Warnings: Grammar errors, spelling errors, no proofreading, readers gender is not specified, gyaru is a japanese subculture and fashion style characterized by an over-the-top westernized feminine look and “frivolous” behavior like partying at clubs

Versions: Demon brothers, Side Characters

Links: Masterlist

--------------------------------------------------

LUCIFER

"At first, I assumed they would be similar to Asmo considering their sense of fashion. Loud, party animals and high pitch voice. But then, they dropped her lip gloss and started quivering so much. They looked at us as if we're gonna eat them alive..."

He wasn't surprised by your fashion sense, let's be honest. Asmodeus probably dressed like that in the past.

And he's seen similar styles back then when he had to visit Tokyo

Though, your personality is the one that shocked him.

Once you get close, he'll even pay for your thrift store shopping spree and nail appointment

MAMMON

"The duality is insane. Theg got pink nails, glitter eyeliner, and just apologized to the table for bumping into it."

Let's be honest, leopard prints would look SO hot on him

So he probably dressed similarly to you before on some modeling gig, but maybe less intense

But these type of fashion is pretty common in Devildom, don't worry!

So he's so worried that... You're... So... Shy?

MC, you're wearing six-inch high heels that can probably kill someone, have some confidence!

LEVIATHAN

"They looks like a final boss but then theg stutters like a low quality NPC... When they arrived, I thought they will bully me when in fact, they're scared that I will bully them."

You both bumped intro each other one time

And then you bowed to apologize

The he bowed too

Then you looked up to look at each other.

You thought he looked mean, and he thought you looked mean

So you two bowed deeper

SATAN

"We met in class. They're wearing fishnets and a short skirt then asked me if they can sit in the back "so no one will notice them." I just sighed. Then, one time, they handed me a neon pink glittery pen to borrow then bowed like we're doing a tea ceremony."

At first he thought you're so shiny.

And polite...

Like a polite disco ball.

Though, he admires you fashion sense and personality

He wished he can compliment you but he's afraid you'll combust

ASMODEUS

"Girl, I saw their eyeliner and I know that took an hour and a breakdown. And their lashes is so long, it's so long it waves before they does. I commend them, it really takes a lot of guts to wear platform heels and still be nervous ordering in the cafeteria."

You're his discontinued dream

Oh please, wearing leopard prints, high platform heels, neon pink, and THICK eyeliner is his dream

But lucifer said it's too expensive to continue as an everyday fashion...

BEELZEBUB

"I saw them call a vending machine "Mister robot" while paying for a can of soda... Sure... Then I helped them open the can because they're having a hard due to their long nails and they said thank you so many times..."

He gets protective of you because you're so shy

He's always behind you so he looks like a bodyguard/jock bf of a mean bully vibed human

He's the type to eat chips on your bed while you take an hour to prepare for school

BELPHEGOR

"They're so bling bling I could see them through my eyelids. And her hails, oh those nails, they're always clacking on something like they're typing Morse code or something. Though, we vibe."

He always get flashbanged

Since you speak so low, he would always think he's dreaming of your voice when you're in fact trying to ask him something

He's probably emo back then so... No judge here.

[fantasyforbeginners]

I find it really interesting how you seem to kind of separate foils as its own thing, and I’m curious about how that works. For example, I know that Katara and Azula are definitely foils - both girls are prodigy benders, associated with blue, lost a mother, etc, but Katara’s compassionate, and Azula’s cruel. I like that contrast, but I never understood that’s contrast’s doing from a standpoint for the narrative as a whole, separate from say, plot or characterization.

So foils are built off two things: the similarities, like you listed, and the differences (Katara being the one to save Aang and Zuko whereas Azula inflicts violence; the compassion and cruelty, as mentioned). We also get into how Katara gives and believes in agency (i.e. her disagreements with Aang in the Avatar State) and disagreeing in a thoughtful manner (much like Aang: "no, Katara, you do have a choice") that contrasts with bloodbending — invasive control, fear and threats, etc — and which is Azula's mainstay: "All your life you've used fear to control people..." "Well what choice do I have?" Azula says that 'fear is the only reliable way' but that doubles as 'control is the only reliable way,' poor girl.

This all ties back into ATLA's thing of "is it your own destiny? Or is it a destiny someone else has tried to force on you?" vs "Aang's following his destiny his way / you have always followed your own path"

Katara's compassion reinforces as well in bringing down the divides between nations. She frees and befriends an Air Nomad; she reaches out to Earth Kingdom kids with understanding and aid (Haru, Jet); Katara symbolically unites the North and South Water Tribes; she and Aang reach out to Zuko and Iroh, even though they're Fire Nation and their enemy. In Azula's worldview, there should be no connection or distinction: everything is either Fire (superior in every way) or not-Fire and an obstacle to remove or ignore.

A lot of the 1st and 3rd paragraphs though is implicit narrative subtext. ATLA never has a character say "balance can only be restored through all the Nations working together" even though the show Hinges on the very concept and reinforces it over and over again, with the White Lotus just being an older all-male version of the Gaang (at least one bender of each type sans air but Iroh honestly takes Aang's role; a sword master, etc).

So the contrast between the two girls helps create their characterization; their characterization contributes to their foil relationship; and that foils dynamic helps build ATLA's narrative and thematic messaging. It is plausible, after all, to have two characters who have parallels but don't quite achieve foil status (Mai and Yue, or Mai and Toph for example), and a show can have a strong narrative / characterization without really having any foils (Jurassic World: Camp Cretaceous is a good example).

Honestly my favourite foil dynamic of all time has to be Viren and Callum from The Dragon Prince because they are an immaculate villain-antihero-hero foils dynamic built throughout 7 seasons. The Dragon Prince uses foils so well it's kind of incredible, and I do think uses them in a more complex way than ATLA — Viren and Callum have narrative, thematic, and heavy characterization similarities, while also still maintaining contrasts — so if you want to learn more about them and how to do them well, I'd rec the show just for that (and its worldbuilding, and ethical dilemmas, and queer rep).

For a quick overview of what I mean while avoiding not too many spoilers:

Callum is Dragon Prince's core protagonist; Viren is its main antagonist (S1-S3) and then he has an atonement arc (S4-S6). They are both mages: Callum becomes a primal mage (neutral to positive magic system), and Viren is the High Mage of Katolis and practices primarily dark magic (a malevolent magic system). They both have kings who are also their brothers, and mysterious elves who directly encourage their magical paths and journeys—Callum's has his best interests in heart, Viren's very much does not.

While the main difference between them is that Viren primarily seeks magic and power for a sense of self-importance — eventually forsaking and damaging his family unit — Callum seeks magic and power to protect his loved ones; he'd never forsake them. What the show then displays, then, is that like Viren once upon a time, Callum's road to hell is paved with good intentions (Viren did and does love his family) even if he never falls prey to the same political ambitions, there's still heavy Consequences for the magical choices he's making. Viren, meanwhile, moves towards where Callum stands, loving his family again and learning to make selfless choices even if he's never forgiven. Callum even becomes High Mage, just like Viren, and uses Viren's staff / takes it as his.

They both say shit like:

VIREN: If it's love, then nothing else matters. Do what you must. (6x06) VERSION OF CALLUM: It's not about you, is it? If you love her, you'll be the you that can save her. You'll do what you must.

And like, everyone in TDP kind of has foil bonds like this. Viren and Callum's is definitely the most developed central foil relationship, but Claudia and Rayla — whose foil dynamic reminds me of a messier Azula and Katara, respectively, are Also like this to an absurd degree. Whereas in ATLA Katara doesn't really have any personality similarities to Azula except perhaps like, determination and maybe a temper, TDP is out here letting the antagonists make good choices and the protagonists make crappy ones because they are so painfully similar it hurts.

[ghoulinfuschia]

hey! i dunno if you'll see this, but dude, intermission is phenomenal. it's okay to not be a fan of your past works anymore—i definitely have done that with my own stuff. i'm so sorry you've received hatred for it and that's what's driven you away. you didn't deserve that and don't still. (and as a massive fan of v here, i think you characterized her incredibly well, actually.)

thank you for being here. i've followed you/your art since before intermission and always thought it was gorgeous. wishing you nothing but the best, and take a break/care if you need at all! you've got this :]

bonus bird comment, you remind me of a tree swallow /pos

Thank you!! :,3 I appreciate your kindness and will do my best to make Catalyst the best it can be!

[riovidalupdates]

I don’t really believe that Aubrey/Rio will be back to the MCU and I totally get not trusting marvel if she does but it’s annoying how everyone is saying that without Agatha they don’t want her back when practically no one says they don’t want Agatha back if Rio isn’t there when marvel without Jac can ruin her character just as easily

There could be so much to explore about Rio/Death but most of the fandom only want her simping for Agatha that’s all she’s good for as a character for most and it shows

This is a very valid take that I feel isn’t talked about as often as it should be.

I would love for Aubrey to come back as Rio, but as some of you suggest, I don’t know if she would be up to come back. It would be fun, but yeah, Marvel has a poor track record of how they handle their female characters and their stories (ex: Wanda, Carol, America, Natasha, etc), so I would love to see how they would handle Rio Vidal/Death if she were to return. Jac creates beautiful characterizations for these women only for most men to ruin them.

As for Agatha and Rio, i do think Rio kind of gets left in the dust when it comes to her central story as death. She’s this important cosmic entity that quietly literally controls the essence of nature and gathering those who have died. In the comics, Death has a few key storylines that really show why she’s an important character. She also has a sister, Life, who you know embodies everything alive. So, all this kind of knowledge would be awesome to watch . Obviously, I know nothing is 100% comic accurate or anything, but having the idea of what could be shared when it comes to death is what I mean.

It’s a shame to kind of see Rio as nothing more than just the lover of Agatha Harkness. Which yes, she is, but there’s more to their story as a couple and as individuals. Additionally, there’s a lot more to Agatha that we still don’t know. Like I want to know the purpose of the darkhold, we never got an answer to that, why she is afraid to see Nicky, etc.

So, yeah, I wish Rio Vidal was seen more as her own character than just as Death, the woman who loves Agatha Harkness.

If any of you want to share more on your thought about if Aubrey Plaza will return or not, or anything else that you want to share regarding the future of Marvel, you’re more than welcome to share in inbox! :)

[vynnyal]

Of all games why this one

[welcometogrouchland]

Babygirl I can concieve of stephcass dynamics you couldn't even imagine (arospec Cass not understanding why "probably bi but has a job so she doesn't have time to think about that" Steph apparently needs a man (she doesn't, it would just be nice) and doesn't want to platonically settle down with cass in their old age)

[ozcarma]

Does anyone else feel like the incinerator gun chair room from Zero Time Dilemma would have better fit C Team instead of D Team

[possamble]

yes!!! getting good grade in farcille!!!

[horsechestnut]

Reading Batgirl 2000 is making me want to write a Dark Batman fic.

[dsc4]

YOUR TAGS!!! 😭😭💖 thank you sm I'm so gladddd you like my silly story! Hope and Sterling are my favs too and ILYSM for notice that about new hope and her relationship with her kids 🥺🫶🏽 hope you like this week's drama with Dora! 🫂

i read them a couple hours ago but im still processing what happened with dora 😭😭 like on one hand im SOOO HAPPY that her bigger issues are coming to light and she's getting her consequences, but at the same time it's sad to see it play out in such quick succession. like boom her dad surprises her and she gets defensive and shows her true colors, then she goes outside and sees her brother and her situationship talking about their own relationship. maybe i would pass away if i was pandora, but also if i was pandora, i would not be slacking as bad as she was 😭

but i LOVEEE how you wrote sterling in the whole scene. i was gonna pick out one line and then i was rereading, like damn all of these are bangers.. it's the way he's so communicative with his daughter that gets me.. everything he says makes sense from his end, but it wont reach her bc the current pandora will never realize what she did wrong orz

[izartn]

s2 bridgerton rant criticism!!! not very serious just me venting

Anyways we have grandma at home, and bc she cant read subtitles we have Bridgerton s2 in the background and its sooooo shitty. (I had watcehd s1 and 3 previously plus charlotte but not 2 lol)

Like. Bridgerton is trashy fun romcom stuff right? Tahts why people watch it. And LOL S2 its not even fun trash but just like. Wow the mains are idiots. (a much worse sin in my eyes) So glad I have earphones this is insufferable.

Like. I'm sorry so many people like that show lmfao even my mother is like; wtf this guy is so shitty in second view, as shes watching it with gran again xd.

Somehow the pseudo modernity of Bridgerton make it so much more infuriating when the guy is an idiot. Specially bc his whole family is begging him to do the modern thing and look for love. Idiot. Inconsiderate. Why does Kate want that guy scapes me, it doesn't make any lick of sense yikes.

[yu-ziyuan]

i love you jiang yanli shes like an oc to me. she got fridged in the book so now i get to say anything i want about her and no one can prove me wrong because she barely gets any agency in canon so we dont know WHAT shed do given the chance

[tamaharu]

rose in the novelization is so funny. shes like god this dude is arrogant and stupid. i can tell hes waiting for me to ask him what hes doing so im not doing that. and shes correct because the doctor gets antsy two minutes later and tells her what hes doing.

[wizardattic]

reading an m/m fic that i wasn’t really interested in for crumbs of a female character that was barely in the show and i get to the part where she actually has lines and oh my god. i have never seen a worse case of SHE WOULD NOT FUCKING SAY THAT

[timelyquantums]

tribbie characterization and my own personal grievances

these are purely based off of what ive seen floating around, but i digress. its been super annoying to me to see the way her character gets misconstrued. first things first to establish, however, is that tribbie's character tropes combines a lot of strange concepts; she's both multiple entities and one entity, as well as being simultaneously older and younger than the whole cast (and also, in this case, i'm not going to debate the anime trope of "younger characters who are actually older," simply because that's not what this is here for), and so, in general, i think it's good to pin down.

my main points are, of course: tribbie, trianne, and triannon are simultaneously the same entity, while also being different entities and the question of pronouns; the question of tribios; and tribbie is the oldest chrysos heir, but her younger stature makes sense with the information given in amphoreus so far.

to start off with tribbie, trianne, and triannon; i've seen a lot of posts refer to them as sisters or triplets. this isn't necessarily correct to the actual aspect: for one, tribbie, trianne, and triannon typically refer to themselves as "us/we" when in first person. additionally, there is explicit evidence in the book (unlocked at the end of the first section of the quest) that they are part of the original larger whole of tribios, someone who was split into a lot more pieces than the three we know (this lines up with a quote from phainon, who states that "tribbie has given a lot up for amphoreus," albeit this is a paraphrased quote from my memory), meaning that, by all technicalities, the three are simply aspects of a larger soul. for this reason, i refuse to refer to them as sisters - primarily because they aren't. additionally, getting to the question of pronouns; there's no reason to maintain using they/them when talking about tribbie herself. the reason i state this is because the use of "us/we" from the three, when talking to one directly, they are completely fine with being referred to as she/her. additionally, as a factor that i feel is likely easily missed, occasionally tribbie herself (and this is specifially tribbie, as i have not seen this happen when trianne or triannon speak) will drop the "us/we" and refer to herself with the pronoun of "i". this is something im tying into my next point:

the closest to the original entity of tribios is tribbie. this seems like it should be a no brainer - tribbie's name is the closest to tribios, afterall, contrarily to trianne or triannon - and when combined with tribbie occasionally dropping an "i" instead of "us/we", it's something to keep in mind. additionally, shown in tribbies original drip, as well as one of her eidolons, trianne and triannon are showcased as plushies. not to mention that tribbie is shown preference in who is named for the actual playable character: why skip trianne and triannon in the name, if not for tribbie being the closest to the original person of tribios?

my last point is tribbie as the first chrysos heir. this isn't easy to miss in the slightest, in my opinion, (although i have seen people completely miss it on instagram), what with every other chrysos heir we've met so far not only showing deference to her, but referring to her as "teacher". bringing back to the point of phainon saying that "tribbie has given a lot up for amphoreus," and that we already know tribbie has janus' coreflame, it's likely the coreflame itself caused the split in the entity of tribios. i don't think it's impossible that the split also caused a regression, which is why tribbie's age is in such a weird area: she clearly has knowledge that transcends the rest of the chrysos heirs, but commonly is childish because she is, in her current state, a child. i cannot stress enough that this seems to have been used in a way to specifically showcase that of what she gave up. this leaves out the parts from the book that we know were lost prior to arriving at amphoreus, meaning that a lot of tribbie's character ends up being tied very specifically into the concept of "losing yourself."

"why write this post, tenor?" well you see, tribbie happens to have instantly become one of my favorite characters from the entire amphoreus quest, and seeing her characterization get missed has been incredibly annoying, so i guess the main goal was just to make a little short stop to understand the character better. another big reason for this is a personal grievance of my own: the parentification of the relationships tribbie has, either with characters she actually knows (mostly, i've seen it with mydei) or that of the (what i presume to be a joke, but it grates on me nonetheless) constant pairings with argenti due to their red hair. lore wise, i cannot stress enough how much i fucking hate this bit: tribbie is from amphoreus, a planet which you cannot find without a member of the garden of recollection - and thus if argenti shows up during amphoreus' plot at all i might actually throw something - meaning that there is literally no way for tribbie to even know argenti at all. speaking generally, taken as a legitimate headcanon of a parent and child, this does a disservice to both characters; not to mention that there is feasibly no way for them to interact at all. this is ignoring that she's likely older than every character currently in game (or, well, it's pointing towards that. amphoreus' timeline is confusing at best, which works in setting, but is super annoying when i have a headache), which makes me feel that parentifiying any relationship tribbie has with, quite frankly anyone, does a disservice to her character as a whole, especially because it ignores the complexities in her character and relationships with everyone else (i use tribbie here, but i'm talking about all three - trianne and triannon do have different personalities and seem to have slightly different relationships with the people of okhema and the chrysos heirs - but i digress), and ultimately even taking it as the joke its likely to be read as is downright insulting to her character as a whole.