#This is just one interpretation of him and nothing more

[artinventor]

I watched the show only recently and on my own, and only stated my reactions to what has been shown to me on screen, I know perfectly well the difference in headcanon and canon.

Dean didn’t say he didn’t feel the same, if he did that would’ve made it unrequited. They very much left it ambiguous for the viewer to decide by having him only say “don’t do this” and not speaking about it afterward. I’ve watched enough things to know when the writers want something to be clear, they could’ve easily had a scene where Dean tells Sam what happened and how he felt about it, but they didn’t. this is basic media literacy. If you want to interpret it as unrequited then go ahead, I’m not “forcing” anything on anyone I’m just stating my own opinion that you could easily ignore.

My post was mainly about everything else before the confession scene, you can’t exclude everything that came before. That’s what I thought is the main thing to look at when coming up with a conclusion about how Dean feels. They decided last minute to make Cas gay but doing so makes you look back at everything about their relationship, which includes everything Dean has done. Cas was not written to be pining after Dean while Dean doesn’t do anything back. In fact. In the very same season where they know they were writing Cas to be gay, they had Dean be the one to have a breakdown about him being gone in purgatory only 9 episodes before.

Nothing about how their relationship was written in the 12 years since Castiel was introduced has been one-sided. And if it was, the one-sided came from Dean. That was my point. Dean actually has way more intense emotional arcs than Cas does because Castiel has many periods of being dead or going off on his own (which Dean has been shown to hate, and all of that was clear as day on the show, nothing that I headcanoned). So that’s what led me to my own interpretation.

Both characters were written to be “straight” with the gay part to only be something ambiguous or under the surface because they knew it had a big fanbase, but confirming Cas to be gay changes everything. Backtracking on one previously written straight character makes one think about the other one that is linked to him, especially if he was shown to do everything the gay character has done and even more. That’s my whole point here, if it wasn’t clear enough.

I’m sorry but you can’t just officially confirm one half of destiel and then make it seem like its ambiguous for the other,,, dean had a way bigger list of gay crimes than cas like they were BOTH insane about each other and thats how the ship came to be what it is. like I actually thought dean was way more obvious than cas was. You can’t backtrack on only one of them and be like aha he was gay the whole time! And not have me assume the same for the other, like this confession makes you look back at the relationship in its entirety

[shadowsviper]

Baby Saja Headcanons

A little bit of x reader

I absolutely loved the movie and Baby Saja, so I'm making headcanons for him. These are my interpretations of him, obviously, since we don't know anything about the actual character. These aren’t really that serious, they’re like crack headcanons. Idk how many of these I'm making.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Like I've said before, he's 100% sassy.

He has that cutesy baby look for fans but the second he’s home he’s staring his group down with a deadpan face and quips one liners that could evaporate their previous lives

Baby: 🫰❤️

Also Baby: That’s why yo mama and sister dead.

He fucking hates doing aegyo

He was 👌 this close to strangling Jinu when he suggested Baby to do it

Every time he does anything cute he silently cursing at Jinu

The fans eat it up every time so it makes him want to strangle Jinu even more

If you don’t watch him, he will succeed

Your food? His food

Nothing is safe from him when he’s in the vicinity

Especially if it’s anything he can chug down

We saw how he was like with that hot sauce and water bottle, your sauces and drinks aren’t safe

You might have to lock them up to prevent him from drinking them

Before you found out about this habit, the boys had to figure out a way to fight him off because he chugged $300 worth of sauces and drinks

Demon stomachs are way stronger than humans ig

You know how some boyfriends will drink out of their girlfriend’s water bottle even if they have their own??

Yeah that’s Baby. He’ll drink your water from your water bottle even though he has his own

By the end of the day his water bottle is still full while yours is empty

He’ll claim that yours taste better

He was the worst when it came to practice. Jinu had to physically force him to participate otherwise he would just sit out until it’s his turn to rap

His raps were all a few lines (if not less) and so he’ll just sit out again after that

Jinu almost returned him back to Gwi-ma

Baby couldn’t give a fuck less

I wholeheartedly believe he wrote diss tracks for each of the boys and threatens to release them whenever they annoy or piss him off

Those threats happen every week

Gossip king

He acts so nonchalant and bored when he’s not out performing on stage or meeting fans but he’s secretly hearing every bit of tea

None of it has anything to do with him

He comes to you to tell you about it and you’ll be like ??? Who tf are these people???

If you ever find a 12 part video on tiktok and you don’t feel like watching all of it for the tea, give it to him. He’ll do it for you, he’ll watch all 12 parts and then tell you the details even if it’s boring

He’s just nosy af but if the boys ever try to tell the fans no one will believe them

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Ok that’s it for now. If I can think of anything else I’ll make a part 2

[aervera]

Even You Sleep Through It

synopsis. satoru finds peace in curling up beside you, ranting about everything and nothing—only to realize halfway through that you’ve already fallen asleep. contents. sfw, fluff.

MASTERLIST

you’re already halfway asleep by the time he gets home.

the sliding door opens with a familiar click, soft and smooth, followed by the rustle of his coat being peeled off and tossed somewhere it probably doesn’t belong. you don’t open your eyes, not fully. just enough to confirm that, yes—he’s alive. in one piece. loud, glowing, and annoyingly tall. business as usual.

you hear the sigh first.

then—

“you will not believe the day i’ve had.”

you hum faintly into the pillow, cheek squished against the warm cotton of his hoodie you stole hours ago.

gojo, undeterred, flops onto the bed beside you with dramatic flair. you feel the bounce of the mattress, the dip near your hip as he stretches one absurdly long arm across your back like a weighted blanket made of chaos.

“so first of all—nanami lectured me. again. like i’m twelve. because apparently, showing up to a mission ten minutes late is a war crime now.”

he shifts closer, tossing one leg over yours, not caring that you’re basically boneless at this point. his hand slips under your hoodie to rest against your waist, warm and splayed like he’s claiming the whole surface.

“i said, ‘hey, i brought snacks, that’s worth something!’ and he said, ‘you brought dango to a battlefield.’ like okay? and?”

you murmur a sleepy noise that could be interpreted as supportive.

“exactly,” he says, clearly taking it as encouragement.

his voice is all around you now—richer without his blindfold on, deeper when he’s not performing for a crowd. the kind of voice that slides into your ears and settles like velvet behind your ribs.

“and then shoko said i couldn’t keep cursed spirits in the faculty fridge just because i wanted to study them later. which, rude. i labeled them and everything. proper tupperware and all.”

you smile against the pillow, eyes still shut. “you’re insane.”

“y/n, it was scientific research. you wouldn’t understand. you’re too normal. that’s your whole thing. you’re my emotional support civilian.”

you snort.

it’s true. you’re not a civilian, technically. you’ve been a sorcerer long enough to earn the scars on your fingers and the wear in your bones—but next to gojo satoru, everyone’s normal.

you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head, then rest his chin there like a shelf.

“anyway, then i almost vaporized a first-year by accident because they startled me while i was meditating, which is probably their fault more than mine. honestly, it’s like people forget i’m a sensitive guy. i need gentle introductions. soft voices. snacks before confrontation.”

you nod, very slowly. “mmhm.”

“you’re so validating,” he says with a sigh. “this is why i love you. you let me complain and you don’t try to fix it. you’re just like—‘oh no, baby’s mad?’ and i am mad. baby is mad.”

you think about telling him he’s not a baby.

you don’t.

you’re too comfortable.

the weight of him wrapped around you is oddly soothing. you’d never say it to his face, but he feels like a personal heater—sprawled out and ridiculous, all limbs and heat and never-ending commentary.

“also, someone called me a ‘dilf’ today. can you believe that? first of all, i’m not a dad. second of all, i could be, but you’re hoarding the rights.”

you mumble something unintelligible.

“yeah, yeah, ‘shut up, satoru,’ i know,” he says, grinning. “but seriously. the barista looked me in the eye and said, ‘you’d make a really hot single dad.’ and i said, ‘bold of you to assume i’m single. my girlfriend could dropkick you and look good doing it.’”

you yawn. barely hold onto consciousness.

“also—yuuji tried to teach me how to skateboard. that went well until i hit a curb and somersaulted into a vendor stall. the nice old man gave me free takoyaki out of pity.”

you feel his hand move to your side, rubbing lazy circles into the curve of your waist. it’s gentle. almost unconscious.

“then i saw a dog that looked exactly like me. white hair. vaguely threatening energy. barked at a child.”

you laugh, soft and slurred. “you barked at a child?”

“i don’t bark. i’m above barking. i glare. i’m a respectable menace.”

you peek one eye open.

his face is close—resting half on your pillow, hair tousled, eyes unguarded. he looks at you like you’re made of starlight.

“and then,” he adds dramatically, “i came home, exhausted, drained, emotionally neglected—and you weren’t at the door with snacks and applause. betrayal.”

you smile faintly. “you’re so needy.”

“and you’re not needy enough,” he counters. “you don’t demand daily love letters. you don’t insist i serenade you. you don’t weep when i leave for work like the tragic heroine you are.”

you hum, nestling into his chest.

“y/n?”

“mm?”

“are you even listening to me?”

“mhm…”

“no, you’re not. you’re fake listening. you’re sleep-listening.”

you smile without opening your eyes. “go ‘way.”

“never,” he whispers, and the hand on your waist shifts to your hip. “you’re mine.”

you don’t answer this time. can’t. the warmth is dragging you under—his scent, his voice, the slow rhythmic pressure of his thumb against your hip.

still, he doesn’t stop talking.

“you always fall asleep on me. every time. i could be delivering the most brilliant monologue in the world and you’re out by minute four.”

you hear his breath hitch—like he’s checking if you’re still awake.

“…it’s okay, though. you’re cute when you sleep. kind of drooly. occasionally violent if i move too fast.”

you would deny that if you had the strength.

“you know,” he says softly, voice dropping lower, “i think i like this best. you, like this. all quiet. letting me ramble. trusting me enough to sleep before i shut up.”

he shifts closer, tucking his nose against your neck.

“sometimes i think the world could fall apart and i’d still come home to tell you about it. even if you’re too tired to answer. even if you fall asleep halfway through. because it means i made it back. means i get to see you again.”

your lashes flutter, but you don’t speak.

“even if no one else listens,” he whispers, “you do. or you try to. that’s enough for me.”

he presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, then wraps both arms around you like a promise.

you drift.

and somewhere, far beneath dreams, you hear his voice again—

quieter now, like a secret he only tells the dark:

“i love you, y/n. even if you sleep through it.”

[biteyoubiteme]

meet me in montauk teaser

choi soobin x fem!reader

𓅪 synopsis: do you ever truly forget a person? even those whom you have specifically paid to be removed from your mind? no matter how hard some try, some people can never be forgotten because the love and the hurt can be found in even the smallest things. memories easily triggered by nothing more than running your fingers through the grains of sand on the beach where you met, not once but twice. ⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝ warnings: fem!reader, angst, romance, bit of a science fiction au, soulmate trope ish, depression, mentions of pregnancy, miscarriage, postpartum depression, smut, more to be added/subject to change/full warnings to be posted with fic

estimated word count: ~25k I could be lying I don't know how to estimate word counts so we will actually see how far off I am or just right when it’s posted lol ⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝ release date: july 2025

ོ ⸝⸝⸝ now playing: back to me- the marías an: this is based off the movie Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, most of the movie is spent going through memories and this is a bit of my interpretation of that although not as heavily as the movie does it. i hope that you guys like this one its very heavy but i love it and was looking for a bit of an outlet and its helped me a lot and i hope you guys can find something you like in it as well <333

[m.list]

With beomgyu on one side, teasing him, and taehyun on the other, telling soobin he should have given you his number, he looked back at you across the street, looking back at him. And it didn't matter if he looked like a madman, he turned back, hand cupping his mouth as he shouted across that nearly empty New York street right at the head of the subway stairs, “Do you work tomorrow?” 

The question had pulled everyone to a stop, your face heating up, not caring if yeonjun and Kai joked over the clear crush you had formed over a single beach trip, “On Monday! You'll visit me, right?” 

“I wouldn't miss it!” Not when he had found someone so interesting, he forgot himself enough to shout into the busy city just to catch one more line with you. And while both of you left in the opposite direction, you still wore identical, hazy, love-struck, love-sick smiles all the way home. 

It had been instant then, and it was instant now. The unfurrowing of your life lines not crossing once, but twice, when the two of you had done everything in your power to forget one another. 

The treatment had been offered as a last ditch effort to pull your relationship out of a sinking ship. A lifeline tossed into the water, thrashing with unrelenting emotions, drowning the both of you until the waves were too high and too heavy to fight. But it had not been like that at first; your ship was just sailing, and the masts were heavy and strong with each gust of wind heading your way. No low going self-implosion waiting on your horizon. At least not just yet. 

Because at the start of it all, on that Monday morning, soobin had called in sick, faked a strained voice with the aid of his sleep-ridden one, and made sure to secure the full day without a blink of an eye. He didn't know when you started your shift, if it was in the afternoon or even at night; all he knew was that he would be there waiting to be checked out with your favorite novel tucked in the crook of his elbow. 

He hadn't gotten your number, and distance made the heart grow fonder, so the only replay in his mind was the way you made him laugh and the way he wanted to see you laughing right along with him. And when he arrived, you hadn’t been in sight, the checkout counters bare of people, just as the rest of the store. His languid stroll only made him take in the place as you might have seen it. The towering light washed wooden shelves holding far too many books to not make the place feel cramped in the best way possible. Ladders sitting at the edge of each aisle waited, and he wondered how often you must have had to climb up one for a customer scared to reach a height they hadn't been expecting for a paperback. 

And as he rounded that last corner, he ran into you with your apron on, the bookstore logo tattooed on the front in delicate green stitching above the neatly done black of your name. “You came,” your voice hooking him in the way it was just so easily said, an exhale that he had been waiting to feel the second he saw you again. Because it had been a bit like holding his breath. His anxious mind worked to ask him the question: Was she really like how he remembered her, or was it just the salt and the sand influencing his mind? 

But it hadn't been the beach, not when you stood so vividly alive there, just as you had sitting next to him on the shore and the train. “I told you I wouldn't miss it,” because anything he had been feeling washed away, and he was just a boy in a store flirting with a girl he felt like he had known for a lifetime.

⸝⸝⸝

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[olgasaysso]

The apothecary diaries made me realize something very interesting about how women perceive power...

I can't be the only one who noticed that in stories written by women power is often compared to a prison or a cage meanwhile in the ones written by men it's mostly fun and freedom.

It is that women tend to see power as more of an responsibility and men think of it as the ability to do whatever they want?

The apothecary diaries made me think of it first. I discovered with surprise that I actually like the emperor, which I almost never do. Any guy that has relationship with more than one woman at once tends to disgust me, especially if he's in a position of power but for some reason not him.

Because the emperor is as much a prisoner as the 2000 women in the rear palace. Maybe even more because as long as he doesn't touch them, they're allowed to leave.

Like on one hand, he's the most powerful man in the empire. He calls the shots, right?

But on the other hand, he can't even properly protect Lishu from being sold to some pedofile by her father. The only way he could protect her was to make her his concubine and how f*cked up is that? She's like a daughter to him and the only way he could protect her was by marrying her? And then he couldn't even spend time with her anymore because that would be read wrong.

It's the fact that 3 of his children died because there was no proper medic to save them due to the fact that they don't allow non eunuchs to treat them and forbid women practicing medicine... when he doesn't even care about that. He hasn't blinked once at Maomao running around the inner palace and being a doctor.

At first when I was watching the story I thought of how horrible it was that he didn't even visit Lady Lihua after their son died. But then it made me think of how he's literally not allowed to get attached because of his position and how hard it is for him? The fact that he couldn't even provide enough support for Lady Ah-Duo so she doesn't lose her uterus? The fact that she switched their baby with his brother and he had to watch his son grow up "away" from him?

There's so much more to this, especially with Jinshis approach to power and I could go on an on but I think I made my point.

And when I started comparing the stories written by women to those by men... Women tend to write power as more of a burden than a gift.

After watching TAD I watched solo leveling.

And for those of you who don't know, it's basically a story about a guy who suddenly "discovers" that he's like a character in a game (not exactly but it's be too long to explain) and basically finds out that he has endless potential and over the course of the story he becomes the most powerful being in the entire universe.

And there's a moment where he's talking to his little sisters friend that gets very misread as something inappropriate by another character.

This other character points out, kindly, to Sung Jinwoo that the girl is a minor.

Sun Jinwoo doesn't understand so he just looks at him and asks "so?".

And so the guy immediately gets scared and never mentions it again despite the two of them being friends.

This moment is kind of played for laughs. Nothing actually happened, Sung Jinwoo is a good guy so he wouldn't.

But he could. Nobody could do anything to stop him.

And when I watched that I laughed too. But then I thought of how terrifying that is. To have someone be so above the law, this untouchable. Who can do anything he pleases because no one will ever stop him.

But that's never actually adressed in the show other than to show us how cool this is.

It this was written by Natsu Hyūga there'd probably be a million different situations to show us how fucked up this is and how it weighs on the main character.

In the apothecary diaries Jinshi doesn't even want to ask anything directly of Maomao because he doesn't want her to interpret it as an order.

[applepixls]

15 years later, bbc’s 2010’s sherlock is widely regarded as massive queerbaiting that left a lot of people disappointed but i think theres more value in a different reading even though the outcome was disappointing

admittedly i am one of the people disappointed by the lack of romance despite clear signals and such between john and sherlock and ive always thought of the ‘sherlock is ace’ claim as the writers hiding behind a less known identity as a way of saying ‘you cant get on us for not being woke enough’ but i need to propose a read that genuinely helps me cope with existing

sherlock being aro/ace means that despite having nothing other than platonic attraction towards john will go out of his way to keep him safe, pull him out of the line of fire, plan his wedding, save him from himself. and john in this interpretation is exactly the same. sherlock is his friend and ex-flatmate and he will do anything for him. he will trust him blindly, he is willing to die, kill and live for him.

this also means that mary, johns romantic partner, encourages their friendship, even leading them to get closer and telling them to stick together because she knows they need each other and will find as much fulfillment in that relationship as any other type of relationship and doesnt feel threatened by their friendship.

sherlock pledges himself to john, mary and rosie with the intention of repaying them for all theyve done for him

all of this means to me, an aro/ace person, that this exists. it can happen, it can work. there will be people out there who are willing to jump to battle stations with me just because we are friends. there will be people whose partners wont be jealous or insist we be less close and understand how much i need friendship to survive. this reading of sherlock gives me hope that there are people out there for me. that i can be ok.

[katerinaaqu]

I was reading some of your Odysseus's analysis and I love how you brought up his religious facet because I really think is a big part of who he is as an person and how it affects his decisions, specially during the war. To me Odysseus had always been the king of Compartmentalization; he is the one that is able to push his emotions down in order to act accordingly to whatever he thinks can please the Gods at any given moment, and thus save himself and his allies at the process- the problem is that he is human and Compartmentalization can only bring you so far so ofc it would eventually come to eat on him... that is essentially what a big chunk of the Odessy is for. Particularly when he was with Calypso- like OBVIOUSLY the constant abuse played a huge role on his dumpster fire of an mental health but the fact he was completely stagnant without the capacity to jump from one task to the other couldn't had helped matters either....

☝️☝️☝️ THIS MY DEAR ANON SIMPLY THIS ☝️☝️☝️

For starters I am really honored that you liked my analysis and that you saw exactly what I wanted to convey with that potential of Odysseus and that part of his character that everyone seems to forget; his religious nature and how he is literally living his life in the religious piousness

And I couldn't have said it better myself! Yes he does push his emotions down, suppresses them even, when gods speak. When gods demand, humans should shut the fuck up and respond accordingly, that seems to be Odysseus's motto in life. The gods demanded Iphigenia, the gods should have Iphigenia, no matter how bad Odysseus might feel or not feel so his emotions of sorrow or regret come second before his need to obey the gods. Then the gods demanded that they stop attacking the walls of Troy? Odysseus would turn the heel around and run! It doesn't matter if Diomedes is there. If he chooses to disobey the gods is his problem and his choice. Circe demands this price to set his men free? Yeah he would sell his body to get it. Calypso had to have him in order to secure his survival? Yeah Odysseus would do it. The gods demand from him to do a trip to the ends of the world to repent his hubris? Odysseus will damn well be on a new ship and sail there or walk there for all the world is concerned he has to see that thing through no matter what.

This is why he did what he did in the times before or during the war. This is why he chose to stay behind for retribution sacrifices to the gods and why he came back for Agamemnon even if he desired nothing else than go home with his fleet but is also this blind faith that has him being beloved by the gods like Athena or Zeus.

However like it happens with someone who has way too much religious zeal obviously the results can be catastrophic to yourself and to others in a practical manner. I mean Odysseus too paid the price for he was always hated secretly by his peers for his behavior to please the gods because in the eyes of everyone he did it just to get glory or just because he is who he is. Odysseus might have had some ulterior motive about himself or the others but it seems that his religious beliefs play a huge part in the way he conducts himself in regards to the interactions he has with others which is another reason why I am sad that I do not see more people talk about it or representing in their stories and work or that makes me happy when more people see the potential of!!!

As for the last part I am actually very intrigued by this interpretation indeed!!!! And if I am allowed an addition, it is also why he is desperate. He is paying the price, he is pleasing the goddess...and yet he cannot escape. As you said he remains stagnant. Unlike his case with Circe where he receives her trust and her knowledge and later her help with Calypso he just receives his survival for another day. The price he pays will not get him anywhere and that is definitely NOT a good thing for his already crumbling psyche indeed and it COULD be another reason why death seems his only way out at that point.

Because nothing he used to go by in his life works anymore

His piousness was stained by hubris. His decisions to please the gods did nothing for him (or so it seemed to him) and his unpleasant sacrifices brought the fate upon him. He is desperate and he is alone. If I dare use the parallel "he opened his legs for her" and has nothing in return out of his situation. And he has no way out. His brains, his wisdom, his tactics or even his schemes are not doing anything for him and neither are his prayers or his sacrifices and attempts to please this goddess work! It DEFINITELY has a lot of potential as a line of thought and adds even more confusion to his already confused mind!

Thank you Anon for this great addition!

[mango-sunset]

DC X MARVEL: Dick Grayson is Richard Parker, with a twist.

AU where somewhere during Dick's time in spiral, something happens and his identity is erased from everyone's memory and now the only people who remember him are the people who know him as Agent 37. Everything else beyond that is just gone. In the void. Like it never existed in the first place.

After he finds this out, he decides to stay in spiral after realizing he has no where else to go. Even after he's able to complete his mission, he stays. After all, where would he go? His home is something only he remembers.

Anyways, some time passes, how much is for interpretation/the writer to decide, and spiral ends up finding an dimensional rift, a crack between their dimension and another. After a lot of discussion on what the best course of action is, they decide the best course of action is to have one agent, go to the other side to close it on that end, and another to close it on theirs.

Dick, having nothing left to lose, makes the sacrifice of being the one to close it from the other side. After they're able to successfully close the rift, he takes his time getting used to his new world. After exploring and getting used to this new reality he was in, he decided to settle down and become a police officer in Queens New York where he met Ben. Where the 2 quickly became brothers in everything but blood. Everything after this is Richards Parker's story. Up to the point of the plane crash.

After some time, Him and Mary decided to finally settle down with Peter and Teresa. As more time passes, the family grows bigger with the birth of the twins Kaine Parker & Ben Parker are born.

And now in the present day, Peter is Spider-man, mentoring young Miles Morales. Teresa works for shield, following in her parent's footsteps. Kaine and Ben traveling the world, trying to find their place in it. And Dick and Mary are scientists with their own company, seeing with their kids are doing now and feeling nothing but pride & enjoy.

But something is wrong. And the rift that was once closed so many years ago, has reopened.

What happens afterwards? Idk but here are some ideas I have

Peter ends up in Gotham, trying to find his way home, but his presence there is slowly making everyone remember Dick.

The world's are colliding like 2 black holes, and the heroes of both worlds are trying to stop it.

At some point in the DC universe, everyone ends up remembering Dick. Maybe after a huge fight with some alien magic users, so they reopen the rift, trying to find him.

Maybe both Richard and Peter are sent to Gotham, maybe Richard was trying to protect Peter from a magic attack and ended up getting hit with him. Or maybe vice versa and the person that casts the spell could tell he wasn't from this world and sent Richard back to where he came from but Peter ended up protecting him and now they're both in Gotham.

And here are some little background things I would add if I was better at writing:

Richard and Mary use to be very close friends with the Osborn's. But after they find out about the experiments and the truth behind Norman's work, well, you can only guess what would happen.

Harry and Peter are still very close, even after everything. Kanie and Ben aren't really big fan of him though..

Richard doesn't like being around Tony Stark to much. (he reminds him too much of Bruce. Especially Bruce's Brucie Wayne persona)

Tony has two kids, Megan and Harley. Both are very close with Peter.

Mary has reddish brown hair and green eyes

Richard knew that Peter was Spider-man right off the bat. Decides to pick up being a vigilante again for a bit to teach him the ropes, doesn't stay a vigilante for long and ends up becoming his GITC.

Peter looks exactly like Richard physically but with his mom's color palette.

Likewise, Teresa looks exactly like Mary physically but has Richards color palette. As a little treat.

Kaine has Dick's hair color and his Mary eye color, while Ben has Mary's hair color and Dick's eye color. They have a mix of both of their physical features.

Richard refers to all of his kids as his little Robins, the same way his mother used to for him.

He taught everyone in the family how to fly like a Glying Grayson.

Peter's full name is Peter Benjamin Grayson-Parker. Maybe his middle name is Bruce instead?? It would keep his initials PBP. But Benjamin just feels right.

I had the idea that Teresa's name is a reference to Tara Markov/Terra considering how similar the name is, and that her middle name is Cassidy, a combination of Stephanie's and Cassandra names to honour them both. So her full name would be Teresa Cassidy Grayson-Parker. But that's just an idea lol.

Kaine is honestly pretty similar to Jason based off what I know about him, so why not his full name be Kaine Jason Grayson-Parker. A nice little tribute to his little brother.

Ben's full name is Benjamin Riley Grayson-Parker, nothing much to say that I'm sorry Ben :(( but maybe when the twins are born, both Ben and May are dead, so that's why he has their names... I'm just spending it ideas at this point.

That's all I have for now :p I'm sorry if there's any grammar mistakes I'm writing this at 2:00 AM using Voice-To-Text. If anyone ends up writing this PLEASE send me the link!!! I will forever be in your debt 🙏 🙏 🙏

[just-dreaming-marvel]

The Librarian & The Wolverine ~ The End ~ Part 1

THE LIBRARIAN & THE WOLVERINE MASTERLIST

< previous: The World ~ Part 2

Word Count: 6,860ish

Summary: You and Logan come home. Your condition worsens.

Warning(s): insecurities, time jumps, PTSD, dissociation, injuries, memory loss

Notes: Welp. After this, there will be a part 2 of this chapter and an epilogue. Please share your thoughts, opinions, hopes, etc.

The gates of the school opened slowly in the pale light of dawn. The SUV rumbled up the long drive, tires crunching softly over gravel wet with dew. Logan gripped the steering wheel tight than necessary, jaw clenched. You sat beside him, head resting against the cool windowpane, your eyes half-closed. He glanced at you. You were too tired to even pretend you were okay.  The bleeding stopped hours ago. The worst of the fog had passed. But something inside you hadn’t quite returned. There was a quietness in your body now— not peace, but resignation. Fragile acceptance. Logan parked near the front steps.

Your eyes opened slowly. “Are we there?” you murmured.

“Yeah,” he answered, voice rough. You tried to open your door but he quickly stopped you. “No, baby. Let me.”

You didn’t argue. You were too tired. He rounded the car, opened your door, and helped you out. His arm slipped around your waist— protective, grounding— and you leaned into him fully. The front doors opened before you reached the steps. Jean, Ororo, Scott, Hank, and Charles— all waiting.

Jean stepped forward, eyes soft. “We’ve got your rooms ready.”

“We also have your apartment ready,” Ororo added.

“I’ll stay with her,” Logan said without hesitation.

“Of course,” Charles nodded.

“First,” Hank stepped up, “we need to run some scans.”

Logan nodded. You don’t speak. You just let Logan guide you up the steps, one arm beneath your knees when your body began to shake again. Inside the mansion, everything was too bright. Voices were hushed, footsteps silent. You kept your eyes down as Logan carried you, cheek pressed against his shoulder.

The others followed but gave space. Jean walked ahead to open the doors, Hank adjusted the scanner as they approached the infirmary, and Ororo kept her hand gently on your back when Logan finally lowered you onto the exam bed. You quickly grabbed his hand.

“I’ll be quick,” Hank promised gently.

Logan sat beside you on the edge of the bed, your hand cradled between his. He watched every moment Hank made, eyes tracking each machine, each wire, each flicker of light. You didn’t look at the machines. You focused on Logan.

“I don’t want to do this again,” you whispered.

He squeezed your hand. “I know.”

“I don’t feel like myself.”

“You’re still you.”

“You don’t know that.”

Logan leaned forward, pressing his forehead gently to yours. “I do. I know you better than anyone.”

Jean’s hand brushed your shoulder. “We’ll figure this out.”

You nodded faintly, too worn to speak again. The machines hummed to life. You barely flicked when they touched you. Hours passed. When it was finally over, Hank handed Charles the data with a grim look. They said nothing in front of you. Just quiet glances, a few exchanged words in minds instead of mouths.

Logan caught it. “Tell us.”

Charles hesitated. “She needs rest first.”

“I’m not leaving her in the dark.”

Hank sighed. “We need more time to interpret what we’re seeing. It’s… complicated.”

“You’re tellin’ me that after all this, you still don’t know what they did to her?”

“No. We know what they did. But we don’t know how to undo it. Not yet.”

“You’ve had almost three years and—“

You tugged Logan’s hand. “I’m… tired…”

“You should take her to the apartment,” Ororo suggested.

Logan nodded. He lifted you into his arms. Your weight was nothing to him. But the way you clung to him— like you didn’t trust the ground beneath you— shattered him in a new way. 

Logan got you situated in bed as soon as the two of you reached the apartment. You curled into the pillows and blankets, exhausted beyond what your body should bear.

Logan knelt in front of you. “Sleep,” he urged. “I’ll be right here.”

“You promise?”

He kissed your cheek. “Always.”

~~~

The sun had barely started to rise. Logan was already awake, quietly making coffee in the kitchen, waiting for you. You said that you needed the bathroom first thing. He hadn’t though much of it, not until he heard the thud. It was sharp, sudden, and echoing down the hallway.

“Darlin’?” He called, already moving.

No answer. He reached the door in seconds, claws out before he realized it. His instincts screamed at him— something’s wrong.

“Sweetheart?” He tried again, knocking. “You okay?”

Still nothing. Logan didn’t waste another second. The door cracked under the force of his boot. And what he saw stopped his heart. You were crumpled on the floor beside the toilet— one leg tangled awkwardly, your robe twisted around your limbs, blood trailing from your temple were your head had caught the tub on the way down. And your eyes were vacant.

“No!” The word tripped from his throat as he dropped to the floor. “No, no, no— baby— hey— HEY! Look at me! Come on, look at me!”

His hands were already trying to stop the bleeding. He cradled your head gently, checking for your pulse— it was there, but weak. His breasting hitched at he tried to reach you.

“You’re okay. You’re okay. It’s just a dumb, sweetheart.”

He shook slight as he pulled you into his lap and took the phone from his pocket. He pressed the emergency button that went straight to mansion.

“Logan?” Scott answered.

“I need Jean, now!” Logan could barely recognize his own voice. “She slipped. She’s bleeding. She’s not— she’s not back.”

“We’re on the way.”

His voice broke. He held you closer, rocking slightly. “Stay with me. Don’t leave. Please don’t leave me again.”

Logan couldn’t tell how long he sat there, holding your limp body in his arms. It could’ve been second or hours. All he knew was the feeling of your skin against his, too cold, and the sound of your breathing, shallow and wrong. He pressed his forehead to yours.

“Not like this,” he whispered. “You don’t get to go on a damn bathroom floor.”

Logan hated how fragile you felt and how helpless he was. He hated the silence in your mind— that eerie, echoing void where you should have been. He wasn’t even aware of the tears until they hit your cheek.

Jean burst through the door first. Hank and the others were right behind her. Logan didn’t look up, just held you tighter.

“She slipped,” he muttered. “She hit the tub. I didn’t— I wasn’t—“

“Logan,” Jean said gently, kneeling. “We’ve got her now.”

He didn’t move.

“Logan,” Hank said, firmer. “Please.”

Reluctantly, he let Jean pull you from his lap. He rose, fists clenched, claws halfway out before he forced them back. His eyes didn’t leave you once. 

“I’ll poke around her mind,” Jean told everyone. “Set up the equipment in the extra bedroom.

“What?” Logan questioned.

“We brought equipment for your apartment so that we didn’t have to bring her to and from the mansion all the time unless absolutely necessary.”

Logan nodded. “Thank you.”

~~~

Logan was kept in the hallway, pacing, while the others worked in the small third bedroom of the apartment. Scott and Ororo were out there with him, while Jean and Hank were in the room with you. Eventually, Jean opened the door and let them back in.

“She’s back,” she said softly. “It wasn’t like other deep slips.”

“What do you mean?” Logan wondered.

“She didn’t fight me. She wanted out, but couldn’t find the way. She came running as soon as I called.”

“And her head?”

“Concussion,” Hank answered. “Nothing catastrophic, but between the fall and her neurological condition, she’s going to feel it. Headaches. Sensory issues. Nausea. Possibly disorientation for a while.”

“She could’ve died… on the damn bathroom floor.”

“She didn’t,” Jean said. “She’s alive. You found her in time and got us over here.”

“I should’ve been there. I was there. It still wasn’t fast enough.”

“Logan,” Ororo placed a hand on his shoulder. “You can’t go everywhere with her, every second. You called. You stayed calm. You got her help. That saved her again.”

You groaned quietly and Logan shot across the room. 

“Sweetheart,” he whispered. “You with me?”

You blinked up at him, dazed and confused. “Logan…?”

“Yeah, baby. You took a fall. You’re okay.”

You squinted, wincing. “My head hurts.”

“I know, darlin’,” he took your hand and kissed your knuckles. “You’ve got a concussion. But you’re gonna be alright.”

Your lip trembled as tears welled in your eyes. “I slipped…”

“I know. But you came back. That’s what matters… You always come back to me.”

“I try.”

“You do.”

~~~

The lights were low. Just enough to see, but not enough to hurt. Logan had your bundled gently in one of his flannel shirts. He had already drawn the curtains of your shared room, turned off the lights, and made the bed with ridiculous care. You winced as he helped you sign, the pain behind your eyes a dull, pulsing throb.

“Slow,” he murmured, holding you steady with one arm and tucking a pillow behind you with the other. “Just breathe.”

“Trying…” you mumbled, shutting your eyes. “Everything spins when I move.”

“I know. Don’t gotta do anything now. Just rest.” He brought over a cold cloth and eased it across your temple with the gentlest touch you’d ever felt.

“You’re fussing.”

“You cracked your damn head open. I’ll fuss all I want.”

You reached for his hand. “I don’t wanna sleep yet.”

“You won’t. Not for a while. Hank said we gotta watch you for the next twelve hours. I’ll wake you every hour. Ask you dumb questions. Keep you here with me.”

“What kind of dumb questions?”

“Like what’s your name, what’s the date, how much you love me.”

You gave a lot, sleepy laugh. “Trick question. I love you more than anything.”

“I hate seein’ you like this. Hurts more than anything else ever has.”

“I’m sorry—“

“Don’t. Please, don’t, baby.” He kissed your forehead. “I got you, sweetheart. Even like this.”

And he did. Logan helped you sip water. He massaged your scalp where it didn’t hurt. He sat with you in bed, back against the headboard, letting you rest against his chest while he read aloud in a low, gravel-soft choice. It was something easy and slow. 

And every hour on the dot, he whispered, “Hey, you with me?”

You would nod or mumble or just press your hand to his chest in answer. He never stopped watching over you. Even long after you had fallen into light sleep, Logan stayed up— one hand stroking your back, the other holding the book steady, the words blurring with the fear he didn’t dare say out loud.

Don’t let this be the beginning of goodbye.

~~~

Logan hadn’t moved much in hours. You were curled against him, half-asleep, the cool compress dampening his shirt where it touched your temple. You were having the expected side effects— the headaches, the disorientation, the nausea. But that didn’t stop the way every hour that passed clawed at his nerves. Every time your hand twitched or your breath hitched, Logan held his own breath.

“Hey,” he whispered again. “You with me?”

Your eyes cracked open. You nodded weakly. “Hurts,” you mumbled. “My head hurts.”

“I know, darlin’. You’re doing so good. Just hang on.”

You dozed again, forehead furrowed, body too warm. Logan could feel it under his hands— the way your temperature shifted, the tremble in your muscles. Suddenly, you took a sharp breath and your hand spasmed. You pushed off him, dizzy, and clumsy.

“Logan—“

“Hey, hey.” He was already moving, catching you as you half-slid out of bed, one arm around your waist, the other already guiding. “Bathroom, let’s go. I got you.”

You barely made it to the toilet. He crouched beside you as you threw up. Your whole body trembled with the effort. It wasn’t much— you hadn’t eaten much— but it left you shaking and barely upright. Logan didn’t flinch or gag or let go. He just rubbed your back in slow, steady circles and murmured the softest thing she could think of.

“You’re alright. I’ve got you… You’re safe… I’m right here, baby. Always.”

When you slumped sideways, exhausted and groaning, he caught you, lifted you like you weighed nothing, and sat on the bathroom floor with you cradled in his lap. Your head dropped to his shoulder.

“M’sorry,” you mumbled, barely audible.

“Don’t. Don’t ever apologize for needing me.”

Logan cleaned your face with a warm cloth, wiped your mouth, and held you until the shaking stopped. Then he helps you brush your teeth— slow and gentle— even when your knees gave out again and he had to hold you upright. He carried you back to bed and tucked you in. He took a step away to get you more water, but you weakly grabbed his wrist.

“No,” you rasped, tears already threatening your lashes. “Stay.”

“I ain’t going anywhere,” he whispered. 

Logan gently curled behind you, arm around your waist. He kissed your shoulder. He listened as your breathing evened out to a light sleep. And he promised himself— again— that no matter what came next, he’d be strong enough to keep you through it. Even if it tore him apart.

~~~

The first thing you felt was arm when you woke. Logan’s arm was wrapped around your waist, hand resting lightly over your stomach. You could feel his chest rise and fall, in a slow, measured rhythm. He was still awake, you could tell by the way his thumb rubbed slow, soothing circles across your side. You shifted slightly, testing the ache in your skull. It was still there— dull and throbbing, but no longer sharp or dizzying.

“…Logan?” Your voice was scratchy, tentative.

He stirred immediately. “Hey. You back with me?”

You turned in his arms, enough to face him. He looked tired— more tired than you had ever seen him. He had dark circles under his eyes, jaw tense, lips pressed into a thin line. But the moment your eyes met his, that worry cracked just a little.

“I think so,” you said softly. “I feel… clearer.”

He exhaled. “Good… that’s good.”

You reached up, touching his cheek. “You didn’t sleep.”

“Couldn’t risk it.”

“Thank you… for last night. For all of it.”

“Don’t gotta thank me… you scared the hell outta me.”

“I keep doing that… and scare myself.”

He pulled you tighter against his chest. “You’re still here… still with me… that’s all that matters.”

~~~

It had taken nearly an hour to convince him. You promised to move slowly and sit if the dizziness came back. You promised you wouldn’t try to do anything except shuffle around the room and maybe brush your teeth. Logan still looked like he wanted to put you in a protective bubble.

“Alright,” he grunted, standing close. “Let’s see it.”

You carefully peeled the blankets away and let your feet touch the floor, cold and grounding. Your legs wobbled as you pushed to standing, and Logan was there instantly— one hand hovering, not touching unless you started to fall.

You gave him a look. “I’m okay.”

“You were pukin’ and concussed. I ain’t exactly goin’ relax easy.”

“I’m not made of glass.”

“No, you’re made of something a hell of a lot more precious than that.”

You looked away bashfully, biting down your grin. “I’m going to walk to the sink.”

“Mmhm.”

You took one step, then two more. You stopped and breathed when you felt your pulse behind your eyes. Logan was still there. Not crowding, but close. When you made it to the bathroom, he handed you your toothbrush without a word. He waited while you brushed, watching in the mirror like your reflection might fade. 

“I’m fine,” you whispered again.

“I know,” he replied, but his voice cracked.

You reached out and caught his hand. “Thank you for watching over me.”

He gave your hand a squeeze but didn’t reply. Before you knew it you were back in bed, propped up on pillows, with a mug of tea in hand. Logan had forced himself to sit across the room for a bit— not hovering or pacing. Just there, sharpening one of his old combat knives in slow, meditative strokes. But his eyes kept flicking back to you. Every time your head dipped too far or you winced or your breathing changed by just a fraction.

You finally smiled, warm and tired. “You’re doing it again.”

“Doin’ what?”

“Watching me like I’m gonna vanish.”

“It’s ‘cause you did and you could.” He sheathed the blade and came over to sit on the edge of the bed. One hand brushed against your knee. “You scared me.”

“I know.” You grabbed his hand and tugged him to sit at your side. You leaned into him as he put an arm around you. “It’s getting harder to bounce back…”

“Doesn’t matter. However long it takes, however sought it gets, I’ll still be right here.”

You nodded, letting the silence envelop the two of you for a few minutes before you spoke up again. Much quieter than before. “Did you ever think loving me would be this hard?”

He tensed before moving enough for the two of you to look at each other. “No. I didn’t.”

You swallowed.

“But not ‘cause I thought it’d be easy. I just didn’t care. I knew from the second I met you that you were gonna change everything. And I let you. Hell— I wanted you to. Yes, I’ve nearly lost you too many times. And yeah, it’s hard. Some days I feel like I’m drowning in it. But loving you? That part’s never been hard.”

Your throat tightened. “You mean that?”

“Always.” He leaned in until his forehead brushed against yours. “I will never stop fighting to keep you— to love you.”

“Even when I slip away?”

“I will always bring you back. No matter how far. No matter how long it takes.”

You shifted to be curled into his chest more. “I don’t want to slip again.”

He pulled you in tighter. “We’ll fight it.”

~~~

Eventually— about a month later— you got better and found yourself a routine at the mansion. But the thing was, you smiled too quickly now. You laughed a little too sharply. You jumped at sounds that never used to startle you. And everyone noticed.

In the library, Jamie paused mid-sentence when you flinched at the snap of a binder closing behind you. He covered it with a joke, but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Ororo saw the way you constantly kept a hand on a table, a wall, the edge of a bookshelf— grounding yourself. And how you would pause before touching anything with print. Sometimes she caught you whispering beneath your breath like you were begging yourself to stay.

Jean and Charles didn’t need to read your thoughts. Your body language screamed loud enough. Even other students picked up on it. They spoke softer around you now.

And Logan? He felt it all like a weight in his chest. He watched you flick your fingers, tug your sleeves, glance at your reflection in passing windows like you were checking to make sure you were still there. You didn’t leet him out of your sight when you could help it. If he left a room, even for a moment, you followed with your eyes. Not possessively— desperately. Like he was the only thing tethering you to this place. But what gutted him most was how quiet you were when you thought no one was listening. The soft repetitions to yourself while shelving books. The quiet breaths counted in fours to keep the panic down. 

The muttered, trembling words, “Stay here. Stay here. Don’t go.”

Logan didn’t say anything yet. Not because he didn’t want to— but because he knew that if he tried, he would hold you too tightly. He would ask you to stop being afraid when fear was your body’s way of trying to survive. So instead, he stayed close. He carried your tea to the library so you didn’t have to fetch it. He offered his hand before you reached for a wall. He sat beside your during lunch, letting your leg press against his under the table. He waited. But even waiting felt like holding his breath.

~~~

The library was quiet, warm with afternoon sun. You were shelving again, hands shaking just slightly as you moved from section to section. The stack of books in your arms rattled gently with each step.

“Author, title, subject,” you murmured under your breath, over and over. You were forgetting where your books went. “Author, title, subject. Keep moving. Keep it straight.” 

Your fingers ghosted over the spine of a book, then jerked back like it had burned you. Your breath caught.

“Stay here. Stay here. Stay here,” you whispered, a chant now. “Not now. Not here. Not yet.”

You didn’t see Logan at first. He had come in quietly, just to check on you, not wanting to hover. But the second he heard your voice— that voice, soft and panicked and spiraling— he moved fast. You were trembling when he got to you. One hand was still gripping a book, the other pressed to the shelf beside you. Your eyes were locked on the floor, blinking too fast. He didn’t speak. He just reached out, gently wrapping a hand around your wrist. You flinched and then looked up. Logan’s face was tight, lined with concern, but his touch stayed soft. His thumb stroked your pulse point once, twice.

“You with me?” He asked, voice quiet, steady.

It took a second for you to nod— only because for that brief moment, you didn’t remember who had a hold of your wrist. Eventually, you did nod and your eyes welled up with tears.

“I— I didn’t slip,” your words cracked.

“I know,” he stepped closer. “You didn’t. You’re right here.”

You tried to breathe, but the sob broke through before you could stop it. And then it was like a dam burst. The books hit the floor. Your arms curled into your chest. You leaned into him hard, and he caught you instantly, wrapping you up in his arms like nothing else mattered.

“I’m trying,” you sobbed. “I’m trying so hard not to fall apart.”

“I know you are,” he whispered, cradling the back of your head. “You’re doing everything right. You hear me? Everything.”

You clung to him, crying silently now, hands fisting in his shirt. And he didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just held you like he could absorb the tremors himself. Minutes passed and finally, your breathing evened.

Your voice was barely audible when you spoke up again, “I didn’t slip.”

He pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes. “No. You didn’t. You fought. You won.”

“But it doesn’t feel like a win.”

~~~

The sun was just beginning to climb high when you stepped out into the courtyard. Jean and Ororo were already waiting. They smiled when they saw you.

“There she is,” Jean said warmly, coming over to link arms with you. “Ready for some fresh air and terrible overpriced coffee?”

Ororo raised a brow with a teasing smirk. “And possibly a bookstore you’ve never raided before.”

You smiled— genuinely, even if a little nervous. “Sounds like heaven.”

Behind you, the door creaked open.

“Wait.” Logan’s voice was rougher than usual. He stepped out into the courtyard, arms crossed, expression already steeped in stubborn disapproval. “Where exactly are you going?” He was addressing Jean and Ororo, but his eyes didn’t leave you.

You sighed. “Just into town. Coffee. Maybe the bookstore. I want to try.”

Logan walked closer. “You had a panic attack two days ago. You slipped briefly a week before that. And you want to go out in public with no backup?”

Jean gave him a gentle, but firm look. “Logan. We’ll be with her the whole time.”

“She’s not ready.”

“It’s not a battlefield, Logan,” Ororo said coolly. “It’s Main Street.”

Logan looked back at you. You could see the fear written all over his face, even as he fried to keep his voice calm. You reached for his hand.

“I want to try,” you told him softly. “Just for a couple hours. I’ve been doing better. You said it yourself.”

His jaw clenched. “That doesn’t mean I’m ready to let you out of my sight.”

“I’m not asking you to let me do anything. I’m telling you what I need. Just a little time. With them.”

He was silent for a moment. Then, finally, his hand curled around yours. His thumb brushed the back of your knuckles. “Promise me you’ll call if anything feels wrong.”

“I will.”

“And Jean,” he shifted his gaze, “if she so much as flinches, I expect you to bring her back immediately.”

Jean gave a solemn nod. “You have my word.”

Logan looked at you again. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

“I know.” You gave him a kiss on his lips. “I love you.”

He quickly pulled you in for another kiss. “Love ya too. Be safe. And call me.”

~~~

Laughter echoed off the brick walls of a tucked-away cafe patio. You sat between Jean and Ororo. The table was cluttered with shared pastries and coffee cups, half-emptied and abandoned in favor of conversation. You were laughing. Ororo had just finished a story about a first-year mutant who accidentally shorted out the hallway speakers during music class by belting Whitney Houston too passionately. Jean mimed the reaction, hands thrown dramatically to the ceiling, and you almost choked from laughing.

For the first time since returning from your world travels, you didn’t feel like a patient or a ticking clock. You were just you.”

“I thin this is the most relaxed I’ve seen you in months,” Jean said gently.

“It feels… good,” you admitted. “Like I’m in control of my body again.”

Ororo smiled. “We never doubted you could find your way back.”

“Logan never doubted either… Even when I did.”

“He’s proud of you.”

You nodded. “I just hope he’s okay right now.”

~~~

He was definitely not okay.

“Where the hell is Jamie?” Logan barked as he pushed open the kitchen door. “You seen him?”

Hank blinked behind his mug. “I believe he’s—“

“Don’t care. Tell him to check the bookstore downtown. Now.”

“Logan. I’m sure they’re—“

“They’re late. Fifteen minutes past when Jean said they’d be back. Fifteen minutes is long enough for things to go sideways.”

He stormed out before Hank could respond. Next, he cornered Kurt in the rec room.

“You can teleport,” Logan stated, stalking towards Kurt. “Go check in on them. Just a peek. Make sure no one is following them and that nothing has happened to Y/N.”

“Aren’t they… getting coffee?” Kurt nervously questioned.

“Exactly. Prime moment for someone to slip something in a cup.”

“You are deeply unwell.”

Logan growled and stormed off again, muttering to himself. At one point, he shoved open the library doors, stared inside for a beat too long, then slammed them shut and stalked back down the hallway like the floor offended him. 

When he passed by Charles’ office, the professor called out without even looking up, “They’re fine, Logan.”

Logan didn’t stop walking. “I’ll believe that when she’s home.”

~~~

You stepped out of the bookstore with a small paper bag tucked beneath your arm. 

“I still can’t believe you convinced the bookstore owner to let you organize his back shelf,” Jean teased.

You gave a sheepish shrug. “It was painful.”

“He said she was like a ‘calm hurricane with very specific decimal demands’,” Ororo added dryly. “He meant it as a compliment, I’m sure.”

You laughed. As you climbed into the backseat of the car, you glanced at the clock on the desk.

“We’re late,” you noted, stomach twisting.

Jean didn’t even flinch. “Only by an hour.”

Ororo smirked as she started the car. “Which means Logan has had approximately fifteen meltdowns.”

Your smile faltered slightly. “Maybe we should’ve called.”

Jean glanced back at you. “He’s going to grumble and growl and stare holes though the wall— but the second he sees you smiling, he’ll breathe again.”

You nodded softly, hoping she was right.

~~~

The doors hadn’t even fully opened when Logan stormed into view. You had barely stepped into the entrance hall when you saw him— pacing like a caged animal, jaw clenched, hands fisted, and eyes scanning every corner like he expected a threat to leap from the shadows. When his eyes landed on you— whole, calm, and smiling— he froze.

“Logan,” you called softly.

Logan was on you in three strides. Not rough, but close. His hands found your arms like he was checking for injuries, one sliding to cup your face, tilting it gently side to side, like he needed to see all of you.

“You okay?” He asked, voice rough.

“I’m fine,” you answered.

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

He exhaled, finally. His forehead dropped to yours, fingers still brushing your shoulders, chest rising and falling too fast.

“You always assume the worst,” you teased gently.

“‘Cause the worst always finds us eventually.”

“But not today.”

“Not today.”

~~~

You were radiant. After girls day, something inside you had unlocked. You glided through the mansion with ease— laughing with students, sipping tea in the garden, helping Ororo in the greenhouse. You even offered to reorganize a forgotten section of the mansion’s archive room. It was like a spark had finally caught fire inside you again, like hope had muscle now.

Jean spotted you in the hallway, arms full of folders, and raised a brow. “You running on coffee or adrenaline?”

You grinned. “A bit of both.”

In the distance, Logan stood in the doorway of the rec room, watching you with the kind of quiet intensity that screamed panic to anyone who knew him. It wasn’t that he didn’t love seeing you like this. It was everything he had prayed for— confidence in your stride, a smile that didn’t look borrowed, the lack of trembling. But still, his hands wouldn’t unclench. 

Every time you paused mid-sentence or blinked a little too long, his heart seized. He would question if it was a slip— if it was the slip. When you reached for a book in the library later that afternoon, Logan was right behind you— too fast— and you turned, startled.

“Logan,” you said, confused. “You okay?”

He nodded, jaw tight. “Just… checkin’.”

You tilted your head. “You’ve been checking all day.”

“I’ve got instincts,” he muttered, trying not to look like he was scanning you for sings of mental collapse.

You stepped closer, cupping his cheek. “I’m really okay.”

He didn’t answer, just leaned into your touch and let out a breath like it hurt.

~~~

You danced around the kitchen in the mansion while dinner simmered on the stove, humming a tune under your breath. Both of you were too lazy to go home. Logan stood by the counter, eyes tracking you like you were a storm he could read but not predict. At one point, you laughed aloud— head tilted back, eyes gleaming. He nearly flinched. You noticed.

You crossed the room and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “You’re waiting for the shoe to drop.”

His silence said enough.

You softened. “Maybe it won’t tonight.”

He swallowed. “Maybe.”

But in his chest, the weight never left. Because when you burned this bright, Logan had learned, it often meant the darkness wasn’t far behind.

~~~

You woke up to warmth. A strong, steady warmth pressed against your back, an arm wrapped protectively around your waist, your hand resting over a calloused one on your chest. It felt safe. But it didn’t make sense.

Panic flickered to life in your lungs as your eyes adjusted to the unfamiliar dark, to the faint outline of a man beside you— so close. His breathing deep and even. His body a fortress around you. Your heart thundered. You didn’t know who he was. You didn’t know where you were. You screamed.

You shoved back, limbs scrambling, sheets tangled, falling off the edge of the bed and hitting the ground with a hard thud. Your breath came fast and broken. You reached for something, anything, to defend yourself— knowing a lamp over in the process.

The man— Logan— was already on his feet. “Hey, hey! Sweetheart! It’s me— It’s Logan. You’re okay, you’re safe.”

“Don’t come near me!” You cried, backing away.

His expression shattered. The door slammed opened behind him. Jean was there first, followed by Scott, Ororo, and Hank. 

Charles’ voice echoed sharply through the mansion’s intercom. “Jean— calm her. Now.”

But Jean didn’t move right away. She just stared at you. Because you looked terrified.

Logan’s arms were raised, still frozen where he stood. “Please,” his voice was low and broken. “Don’t be afraid of me.”

You didn’t hear him. Or if you did, you couldn’t understand.

Jean stepped forward cautiously. “you’re at the school. You’re home. No one’s going to hurt you.”

Ororo whispered something into the communicator. Logan didn’t hear it over the sound of you sobbing.

~~~

Hours passed. The sedative Jean had finally administered wore off slowly. You laid in the infirmary bed, trembling, Charles beside you. 

“You were in the bed with someone,” he said gently, testing your awareness.

You flinched. “I— I didn’t know him.”

Charles looked towards the hallway window. Logan stood there, staring. He hadn’t moved since you were brought down here.

“His name is Logan,” Charles said quietly. “He’s… someone very important to you.”

“I don’t remember,” you whispered, tears slipping down your cheeks. “Why don’t I remember?”

“You will. It’s in your mind. Just… sleeping.”

~~~

It took until just after sunrise the next morning. It was the smell. The scent of cigars and old leather. Then the sound. The way his boots sounded when he stepped back into the room.

And then his voice, cracked and exhausted, “I’m here.”

Something clicked. Like a light turning back on in the back of your mind.

Your head shot up. Eyes wide. “Logan.”

He froze. Hope didn’t even dare to cross his face yet. “You remember?”

You nodded, slowly. “I remember… your hands. Your voice.” You frowned. “The sweater… the one I wore two days ago. You hate it.”

He exhaled, his knees almost giving. “I do.”

He didn’t touch you at first. But then you reached for him— shaking. And he was there. One the edge of your bed, wrapping his arms around you, burying his face in your shoulder like he could anchor you there with the force of his hold.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, crying again.

“No,” he said fiercely, voice rough and hoarse. “No apologies. Not from you. Not ever.”

Outside the infirmary room, the team sat quietly, listening to the sounds of your sobs fading into Logan’s soft, steady voice murmuring over and over, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

~~~

You didn’t speak. Not really. You answered when directly asked— with a nod, a soft hum, or a monosyllable at most. But mostly, you let the others guide you like a ghost floating through your own life.

Jean checked in when you arrived at the mansion every morning. She was gentle and careful, always giving you the out before you had to take it.

Ororo brought food at regular hours. She sat with you when Logan had to quickly do something. 

Jamie helped you run the library between his own classes.

Logan was constant. He never asked for more than you could give. He would offer his hand when you paused too long in a hallway, or pull a chair close enough for you to lean on when you couldn’t trust your legs. He didn’t push. But he stayed. And you needed that more than you could ever say.

Days passed like watercolor bleeding on paper— formless, gentle, and impossible to hold onto. You followed the routines they offered you.

You sat in the library for thirty minutes to an hour a day.

You joined Logan for short walks outside.

You stood beside Ororo while she watered the plants in the greenhouse.

You sat quietly at dinner, untouched plate in front of you, just listening.

But still, you didn’t laugh or read or reach. And your voice— once so filled with facts and trivia and half-sung quotes— felt like it had been locked away in a part of you that even you couldn’t touch anymore. 

At night, Logan would sit beside the bed, or lie on top of the covers, book in hand, reading aloud. Sometimes history. Sometimes romance. Sometimes the same page twice when he noticed your eyes had gone glassy. You didn’t stop him. Sometimes you even reached out in the dark and touched his shirt. Just to feel him there. But you never said a word. Not for two weeks.

~~~

The library had always been your sanctuary— once alive with whispers and the smell of old paper, of history tucked neatly into rows. You were there again now, seated in your usual chair, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders even though it wasn’t cold. Jamie was shelving nearby. He talked quietly as he worked— mostly just nonsense, funny things he’d overheard or trivia he thought you would like. You didn’t respond, but he didn’t seem to mind. You were trying. You were here. That was enough for him.

Until suddenly, the words on the page in front of you began to blur. Not like sleep or exhaustion. But like static. Like your brain was going under again. Your hand twitched. You pressed it last to the arm of the chair.

You opened your mouth. “Jamie.”

His head whipped around at the sound of your voice— soft, but clear. Your first in weeks.

“I think…” the room was tilting. “I think I’m going to slip.”

Panic flickered in his eyes, but he crouched beside you quickly, trying to stay calm for you sake. “Okay. Okay— hey. Stay with me, alright?”

You turned your face towards him, voice barely a whisper now. “Get Logan.”

Jamie bolted. You could hear the sudden flurry of movement— his footsteps pounding down the hallway, shouting Logan’s name. But your body was already slipping. Your fingers curled against the armrest, and your eyes clouded. You fought it, you tried. But the library— the books— they all began to buzz again, a dull static like too many voices at once, clawing through your mind. Then familiar hands. Warm, rough, and purely Logan’s.

He was kneeling in front of you, his voice steady but barely concealing the edge of fear. “I got you. Look at me, sweetheart. Come on.”

You blinked— vision swimming— but your gaze landed on him.

“I’m here.” He cupped your face. “You told Jamie to come get me. That’s you. You’re still here.”

You reached out and gripped his shirt. The world slipped sideways again. 

But Logan was there, grounding you. “Stay with. You don’t gotta do this alone.”

“Don’t want to be lost again…” you rasped.

“You won’t be. I swear it.”

“Can’t… forget you… again.”

He pressed his forehead to yours, breathing with you, willing you to match him. “You won’t, baby. I’m here. I’m with you.”

You were really trying to stay. Harder than you had ever tried before.

“I’m right here. You got this. Just breathe, darlin’. In and out. Match me.”

You tried, but then your breath caught. Your eyes glazed over and you went limp. Logan caught you before your head dropped, arms wrapping around you protectively as your body slumped against him. He didn’t panic. He just hurt. 

“Logan?” Jamie whispered form where he hovered nearby.

“She’s gone,” Logan stated. “But she fought. You saw her fight.”

Jamie nodded, eyes wide.

Logan glanced around the library— the place that had once been your haven and now flickered too close to the source of your pain. He tightened his grip around you, one arm beneath your legs, the other steady at your back. “I’m getting her out of here.”

Jamie was already clearing the path before Logan could even ask. Logan stood with you in his arms and didn’t stop moving. He took you out of the library, away from the shelves. Away from the buzzing energy that your brain kept trying to read like a thousand open pages.

“I got you,” Logan whispered as he walked, lips pressed to your temple. “You hear me? I got you. Just rest. I’ll carry you until you find your way back.”

Jamie followed, glancing back at the empty library with a sick feeling in his chest. Logan didn’t stop until he had you in your shared room. He laid you on the bed like you were made of glass.

It took too much time. But eventually, you came back.

“Logan?” You rasped.

He was still at your side, holding your hand. “I’m here.”

“I tried…”

“I know.” He kissed your forehead. “I saw. You did more than anyone could’ve asked. You fought it.”

You looked around confused. “The library?”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re here. You’re with me. That’s all that matters.”

next: The End ~ Part 2 >

[numericalbridge]

Another thing about the insincere 'but why no one talks about the flaws!!!!' posts is that fans who make those posts often conflate several things:

First, when popular white guy characters have their flaws sanded down by the fandom it usually takes the form of whump-ification, woobie-fication or in some fandoms of making him super powerful and the perfect ideal hero. The focus is firmly on the character and his suffering or reliability, his flaws are removed because he is the fandom's special guy and everything is centered on him. And it's his fans who are doing it. And often these works and headcanons and characterization dominate fanworks and fanon.

But with over-hated characters of color like Darius TOH or Mel Arcane, or sometimes with white women who stand in the path of a ship or who are turned into everyone's mom, when their flaws are supposedly removed it isn't done because these fans love their characters so much. Instead it is usually done because they are needed in the role of protecting and serving other characters or because the fandom doesn't know how to process their flaws in a normal way. You can even tell because there rarely will be any of the same plots where the character receives care or is rescued and everyone worries about them (like, others had noticed it too - there is literally almost no comfort fics centered on Darius in toh fandom, and among those that are there maybe one or two has the same whump-y characterization that the white characters of the same narrative importance, like Alador, get). And this 'removal' of flaws is usually done not by fans who care that much about the character, but by primarly fans of other characters. Sometimes they manage to demonize the character and still turn them into a one dimensional comfort provider.

And then, there are actual fans of the unpopular and/or demonized characters who are usually perfectly aware of the real flaws, but just want to focus on something positive about the characters, yet receive disproportionate push back, and suddenly a big portion of fandom acts like not constantly focusing on the flaws is equal to not admiting that the flaws exist (although often the fanon flaws are not canon). And with unpopular characters even if some fans of the character might remove the flaws and choose an interpretation that is too soft, it still doesnt reach the same overwhelming ammount as with woobie white favourites, yet is treated with more agression.

And fandoms tend to conflate all these phenomena and churn out constant barrage of 'why no one talks about the flaws of this unpopular/overly hated character!' when 1. fandom already can't shut up about the flaws 2. those who sand down the flaws to make the character into a prop to a resident woobie more often are fans of the said woobie, but the fans of the unpopular character get blamed instead, when usually they are the ones to first call that out 3. with other characters, even outright villains, it is considered normal to not focus on the flaws and create all kinds of cutesy fanworks and favourable interpretations, yet when it's an unpopular character of color suddenly that becomes a problem. And you can tell with which characters it will become a problem before even going into fandom tags (hint: it has nothing to do with the canon severity of their actions/flaws)

[jekyllnvibes]

Please, be free, yap about your VotV world! About your Kel! What was his arrival to dunkeltaler like? Is your Kel based off of your playstyle? What's his relationship with his Ena? Why so many Kerfur-omegas? When the rozitals came, did he go out and get scanned by a scout? What's his favorite encounter that he's had with aliens so far? Least favorite? Most confusing?

(Free permission to yapsalot ask. Have fun!!) (Hopefully I didn't overwhelm you with questions!)

(apologies if this is the second time the ask comes through, as I encountered an error the first time I attempted to ask)

I Would Die For You Thank You-

My universe is based on my playthrough!! I also interpret a lot of the Meta aspects of the game in a very fun way that I'll get into with Kel!

My Dr. Kel is somewhat mentally prepared for the Horrors in Dunkeltaler when he arrives, and is Confident about facing them, because he's a Little Fucking Weirdo on a Very Deep Level. As a bit of background before becoming the canary, he's always been odd. He has a heavy interest in the paranormal, especially on a cosmic level (it's part of why he became an astronomer in the first place), and has had a lot of minor encounters with the paranormal in the past (he swears to this day he had an honest to god interview with Mothman on spring break in America, but really he just wrote a bunch of questions on a piece of paper and left it in the woods near one of the nuclear bunkers Mothman has been sighted at and found them all answered the next day in very bad handwriting. It definitely was Mothman.) When he gets the letter inviting him to Dunkeltaler for a six figure salary after just a few months of work, Almost STRAIGHT OUT of university he's incredibly suspicious, and decides to do a little digging on the area and it's surroundings via some paranormal hobbyist forums, and finds out that there's a Weird amount of people who've gone missing there that ASO keeps saying just. Died in accidents because they're alone in the woods handling heavy machinery and electronics with no one around to help. But also ASO never seems to hire more than one person at a time despite this... Suspicious.... As well, there's a few accounts of trespassers and people who live within about a hundred miles of the area talking about seeing weird phenomena. Lights in the forest, strange shapes in the sky. Well, Kel is a lil bit of a fucking madman with very little self preservation and a whole lot of curiosity, so he takes the position Immediately despite not trusting ASO at all with this new information in mind, because he specifically wants to get paid just to hang out in what seems to be a paranormal hot bed doing what he wants to do as a job anyways. He's already prepared for Dunkeltaler to be weird and probably dangerous, just not sure how weird and dangerous.

Additional lore for this Kel, he isn't aware of it when he arrives, (and neither is ASO or they wouldn't have sent him) but he is Mildly Anomalous. He's sensitive to the paranormal, it's why he's able to sense things in his general vicinity without seeing them or hearing them, and he's *borderline fucking indestructible on top of that.* He's had a lot of accidents that should have killed him, does things that would usually debilitate other people without even half the negative effects, he's been hit by a bus going a good 40 mph and just got up and dusted himself off with only some scrapes and sprains, stayed up for a full six days with Zero sleep running on nothing but coffee and caffeine pills and was completely coherent the entire time. As he is In Dunkeltaler, he starts to become aware of his own Anomalous Nature, and starts Abusing The Fuck Out Of It to not just Survive but Thrive there.

His relationship with Ena is great originally, they're very close, Ena graduated a little before him and starts at ASO pretty much immediately, and he gets a job with her there soon after, just lower in the chain of command/information, but once he gets the letter and does his research into Dunkeltaler, he starts being suspicious and distant with her because he doesn't trust that she's telling him everything she knows, or that she actually cares as much as she says she does. (She does care, and she DOES know more than she's letting on, but she isn't willing to risk her job with ASO, especially because she has seen Kel's indestructibility first hand and feels like if there is anyone who could be a canary without dying, it's him.)

His first few nights are spent pretty peacefully cleaning and selling the garbage for points. The first thing he bought for himself, was a coffee maker and 7 bags of coffee, so that he wouldn't need to sleep as often and could spend more time exploring and decoding the mysteries of Dunkeltaler. The second thing he bought was Kerfur Red, who he named Rascal.

Without like, writing a whole chronological timeline, Kel finds out after a handful of events that he's not just sort of weird and hardy, he's straight up some kind of Anomalous Freak, because he has Full Memory of other timelines where he's died, can sense other anomalies pretty easily, and also... Now that he does know that, he starts experimenting with how much he can do On Purpose. Every instance of the game crashing because Kel is somewhere he can't escape (the red fern dimension, the dark maze when clipping into the map, etc.) is Kel Himself just. Resetting the timeline. Though he finds that whatever Anomalous part of himself is capable of this is only capable of doing so with the help of whatever the hell is going on in Dunkeltaler too, because he can't access anything before having arrived there. Every instance of the game crashing because he's encountered an entity or event that does so however, is because that entity did it to him, and he's always pissed about it because he was "BUSY YOU FUCK- DAMMIT I JUST SENT OFF MY REPORT FOR THE DAY!" He can't lock in hard enough to do so when he's freaked out and anxious though, which is where Meta Paranoia comes in. Eventually he figures out how to exist and communicate with himself in concurrent timelines, and learns that the mailbox outside Alpha seems to exist Outside of time and space, because "of Course it fucking does, nothing in this forest is ever fucking normal- Myself included, whatever fine, cool, we can use this-" and then decides to use it to gain access to normally limited resources. Specifically, *Omega Kerfur Parts.* He tells himself he does this for the extra robotic protection, and to have multiple Kerfurs out running jobs at the same time for Extreme Efficiency, and that's true but... He's also just lonely still. Rascal and the Arirals make good company, but the Arirals aren't usually direct in communication or hanging out with him, and Rascal is out gathering hash codes, fixing transformers, and fixing servers a lot. It would be nice to have the extra bodies around. (Sidenote, after a few months in Dunkeltaler and spending time with his Kerfur's with borderline no direct communication with anyone else except through emails and the Arirals being Weird but Funny, he just says fuck it and asks to marry all of his Kerfurs, they are canonically a very weird little polycule.)

As for his encounters with the Not So Locals, his favorite interaction he's ever had is waking up to the Arirals having fed him yogurt in his sleep while staying in the treehouse. He thought it was really fucking weird, but also very funny and he THINKS it's their way of saying they Like Him A Whole Lot despite still shoving him down and stealing his food regularly. His least favorite is the first time he actually Noticed the greys flying over his base, because they dropped a corpse in the parking lot which Fucking Exploded on impact, which was both horrifying and disgusting, and he's pretty sure was a declaration of war considering they started sending the weird bio-weapons pretty soon after.

He let the Rozital scouts scan him, but was very upset and surprised when they tried to Kill Him afterwards. He's pretty sure it's because he is an anomaly, and the scouts seem to be very defensive (or maybe something else?? Maybe they consider him a *resource* to be harvested... He tries not to dwell on that because it freaks him out and avoids direct contact with the Rozitals afterwards regardless, using Whisker to observe them instead at the hole later on,) towards anomalous entities within Dunkeltaler. He has a generally good opinion of the Rozitals despite this, as they've been pretty neutral to him otherwise, and he appreciated the giant warning hologram before whatever went on with the Yellow Wisps happened, though he's also at least 80% sure the wisps were there because of them in the first place, and he wasn't happy having to reorganize and clean everything when the impact ruined all of his hard work to clean up everything.

Some extra little bits of trivia I wanna share:

-Kel has a large indoor garden in the second floor hallway because he thought it looked like a greenhouse anyways and got tired of Buying Food all of the time.

-He likes fishing in his very large amount of free time.

-He built his Kerfur Polycule in this order: Rascal, Butter, Pico, and Whisker.

-Rascal collects reports, only responds it/it's pronouns, and is easily agitated.

-Butter fixes Transformers and responds only to She/Her pronouns. She Gets Stuck the most out of all of the Kerfurs.

-Pico fixes Servers, seems to primarily prefer He/Him pronouns but will also occasionally refuse to respond unless Kel switches to using They/Them, and gets the most excited for pats and snuggles.

-Whisker is for scouting and observation, does not seem to care what pronouns Kel refers to them with, and gets themself into the most trouble. They have been taken by the vore event twice (though Kel (me,) can't remember if those both occurred in the Same iteration of their primary timeline or not,) and has been dismantled by entities more than any of the other Kerfurs.

-Kel keeps a bin full of extra food in the basement which he only uses to attract and catch roaches, because those on top of fish, are his only reliably renewable source of protein which don't cost points

-He gets excited about The Meat Rain because it's free meat, but the first time he encountered the Mysterious Meat was when Rascal was still on wheels and became possessed just to lead him to it in the woods, and it freaked him out really hard. Nothing in Dunkeltaler scares him anymore based on just it's existence though. Has to be a full threat to him bodily to make him anxious at this point.

-Kel is aware something is in the meat locker, but keeps trying to break into it anyways, because it's very unlikely any worse than anything else he's encountered, he wants to catalogue it, and he's jealous that it has access to racks of ribs and he does not.

-Kel sleeps in the bed with all four of his robot spouses, and it is never comfortable, but it does make him feel less paranoid and he likes the affection.

-Kel thinks Furfur is kinda hot and summoned him on purpose just to ogle him for a while.

Edit: YALL HELP I DIDNT KNOW YOU COULD BUY KERFUR OMEGA PARTS AFTER BUILDING ONE ONCE

[flightyalrighty]

*Waves in greeting from across the Internet*

(Don't know if you've gotten questions like this before but wanted to see what you'd think, considering how much you seem to like Shadow.)

Q: Concerning Shadow's title of Ultimate Life Form, do you think that it is something empowering he should wear with pride, or a curse/burden to be freed of which, among other things, shackles him to horrific and unrealistic expectations?

I feel like this question is kinda like a litmus test for why a person may like Shadow.

Personally, I think there's nuance to be found here. To me, Shadow feels both those ways about being "The Ultimate Lifeform," but how he feels about it bounces between one or the other depending on his mood. He is The Ultimate Lifeform, a being of great power that demands respect when he's trying to intimidate someone or achieving his goals -- Goals only he is capable of achieving, with what he is and all that. Obviously. He's the Ultimate Lifeform, so of course he should be the one to step in and solve the problem. He was designed to be an unstoppable force...

... So when he fails, he has to mentally come to grips with that failure in a way that, I feel, is more difficult for him than, say, if Sonic fails. Sonic is natural. His failures are natural. Shadow is unnatural. His failures. Are. Unnatural. They are not meant to happen. It's arrogance until it's not. His status is just as much a rope he holds to climb a mountain as it is a noose around his neck. A source of confidence, and Gerald Robotnik's judgemental gaze.

He's proud. He's an achiever. He's a pillar of strength. Until he slips.

So, how he (may) feel is how I feel. Depending on his mood, Shadow's Ultimate Lifeform title is both a boon to him and a great and terrible weight. He draws strength and self-loathing from it in equal amounts. That's simply how I interpret it, anyway.

[ohitslen]

*Vampirizes your Vashwood*

keep reading for more :)

If there needs to be much closer close-up please let me know!

[arcade-confetti]

Like literally I would absolutely take a boring or nothingburger Jaybin over anger violence route they keep going with like I cannot stress this enough

[nicki0kaye]

Route 1)

Zeb is Kallus' self-appointed handler, gutted by grief but refusing to leave the responsibility of Kallus' physical safety and upkeep to anyone else. He rambles to Kallus during their time together, telling him stories about every Spectre, and even some from Lasan. He's aware this information is being saved somewhere, but has no idea Kallus is aware of it. Is there and is listening.

Then, one day, the conversation steers into the realm of User Permissions--aka who on the team is allowed to order Kallus to repeat what he's learned. This is how Zeb learns Kallus is not a User and cannot change things without being granted access by an established User. Once that clicks, Zeb assigns Kallus User access, and, bc Kallus is reckless and impatient and thinks he can do everything himself, he starts editing his own programming which quickly results in a seizure. Zeb, distraught, lowers him to the ground and calls Medical.

When the seizing stops, Kallus reports "Updates paused. Review change long?" and then, slowly, refocuses his eyes on Zeb. His expression is still entirely neutral, but his eyes search Zeb's, gaze growing more sharp and aware by the moment.

Zeb tells him to just go slower with the updates, while gently brushing Kallus' bangs into their proper place.

"New message from User A.Kallus. Open?" Zeb swallows and agrees. "Message; 'didn't mean to scare you. I'm alright. Thank you for the admin privileges. Only took you 43 days, 17 hours and 26 minutes. Tsk tsk.' End message." “I don’t speak spy-droid, you—“ and then the tears start, silently, as Zeb bows over him and starts to cry into his chest. “You smug isb so-and-so—“ strangled by his throat and muffled by his shirt. "New mes--open? Opening message; 'easy. Don't cry. I haven't gotten to unlocking autonomous movement yet. At least put my arms around you for me. Zeb. Zeb, it's alright. Soft hearted rebel. Don't tell me you were worried.' End--."

Kallus of course has to go to Medbay to get checked out and reprimanded by my OC Deacon, who makes it clear they will be rolling back the restrictions VERY SLOWLY after this stunt. Holy crap, you could have fried your own brain, goddamn.

which means Kallus is stuck in pose-able doll mode for a few more days, giving Zeb time to start becoming EXTREMELY self-conscious about how touchy-feely he's been with Kallus while he was sure Kallus wasn't aware. This is despite the fact any time Kallus does touch him voluntarily, it's a Fucking Death Grip, as Kallus' impulse control is Shot and he Cannot temper his desire to touch and be touched by Zeb.

By the time Kallus is entirely mobile under his own power (but has put off access to expression or tone of voice bc he's afraid he will similarly have no control over either of those), Zeb has decided that Zeb is the worst person in the world for taking advantage of his friend and that Kallus should want nothing to do with him.

Which of course comes out eventually. Sabine is trying to play wingman for these idiots by talking about star-crossed rivals while watching one of the Spectre's favorite teledramas, but Zeb is VISIBLY upset and asks her how young she was when she was taught how to twist the knife.

Zeb's discomfort is interpreted by Kallus as; 'the idea of liking me freaks him out, primarily when other people are Aware of it'. Meanwhile Sabine refuses to enable and asks outright "if you two are on the same page, I don't see what the problem is."

“Kal ain’t even in the same book, Bine," Zeb says, "and I don’t want him dwelling on — what’s happened.”

At which point Kallus gets up and just Leaves without another word.

Zeb follows, tries to apologize for Sabine overstepping, which makes Kallus crack;

He will not be Zeb's shame. He will not be the object on which Zeb channels his guilt. He is entirely capable of speaking for himself now, entirely capable of choosing who he spends his time with, and Zeb is ignoring that fact and deciding for him how he's allowed to feel.

Zeb, of course, feels awful about that, but Kallus doesn't stop;

"'The day I regained mobility, I clutched at you. It wasn't a conscious choice, I needed to. I needed it. I wanted it. I couldn't hide how much I wanted it, my hands moved on their own. I have. Missed. It. All the ways you used to…so very casually remind me I have a body, and it does not repulse you. And that it can feel good to exist.'"

Then, later;

"'If I was in danger, I would have removed myself from it. I would have hurt you for hurting me. You didn't assault me, Zeb. I couldn't consent, but I would have, had I had the choice. I don't blame you, because you did not take my choice away.'" His hands are working in and out of fists at his side. He wants to touch Zeb so badly, but it still seems so fraught and. He couldn't stand it if Zeb flinched away from him now. He's just as bad about hearing what Zeb is saying and still being terrified that he's secretly right about Zeb's repulsion. "'I prolonged that helplessness, because I did not want you to stop.'"

Then, after they both admit they were hiding the depth of their feelings from one another in fear of losin the friendship, Kallus asks;

"'Will you treat me like you did before? Before the admin privileges. Keep me close?'" “You mean protect you?” It’s gentle. “Or you wanna be spoiled a little and treated like you’re breakable?” Kallus' lashes don't exactly flutter but. They definitely twitch as his eyes duck Zeb's for a moment. Embarrassed. Shy. "Yes."

Zeb agrees and;

Zeb takes a minute to remember how it was, especially at first. Then he slides his grip to Kallus’ wrist and puts the small of his other hand on his back— guiding him by two points like he did when they were worried about him bouncing off of walls. Kallus isn't the same stiff bodied automoton--this time he steps in even closer, leaning side to side, shoulder to shoulder. His eyes do unfocus some, but it's a much softer look than the near empty dolls eyes Zeb had to deal with the first few months. He can't sigh, but his body is relaxed in Zeb's hold. It's…more comforting than he knows how to express

and from there the rest of the RP is just fluff around them being as romantic as they can while Kallus' means of expression are still so limited.

have I posted Lobot!Kallus? I keep meaning to I genuinely can't remember

vacant, only speaks when spoken to, has to be guided by hand bc his spacial awareness has been intentionally fucked with, is either In There behind all the programming, unable to jailbreak himself without permission which no one has thought to give him OR has been fractured so severely, his identity may as well be gone or only exists as a subroutine that only triggers under certain circumstances and is so buried by restrictions it's unrecognizable.

just things I do to my favorite characters uwu

[introspectivememories]

thinking about shanks and buggy and how the love was there!!! it was there and it was clear and it was real and it was tangible and it still was not enough!!! the love was there when they grew up together and the love was there when they traveled the world together and the love was there when shanks gave up on the one piece for buggy and the love was there when shanks dived into the ocean to save buggy and the love was there when they promised to go to raftel together on their own ships and the love was there when they lived together in loguetown in the hiatus before roger died and the love was there when buggy damaged luffy's hat and the love was there still when they saw each other at marineford after two decades and shanks still trusted buggy to get the strawhat back to luffy and the love was there still, still, still, when rogers' body was cooling on the execution stand and his blood was being washed away by the rain and shanks put out his hand, palm faced up in supplication, and said "i'm not going after the one piece" and said the words he's been saying since he was a child, a plea, a prayer, "come with me buggy" and buggy who had given up on his hopes and dreams, crushed under the promise of shanks' shining future and his brilliant potential, humiliated by his cowardice and his belief in his would-be king, his friend, his brother, his shanks, slaps his hand away, closes his ears to the plea, the prayer, the devotion shanks is saying, and said "i'll never come with you!" the love was there still and it was not enough.