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anundyingfidelity · 7 months ago

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HAPPY MISTAKE — Logan Howlett

Summary: Not ever, through all the years of your life, you found someone like Logan. Since he arrived at the school, something brought you together like a magnet. Sadly, not everything came out as you wished it would be. Time is not gentle with mutants, and you try so hard to show him your unconditional love before everything is over, but can you finally accept your feelings for each other? Or yours and Logan's tumultuous relationship through the years.

(PART ONE → PART TWO) | GEN MASTERLIST!

Pairing: Logan x mutant!female!reader.

Word count: 9.6k.

Warnings: slow burn, breaking up(?)/making up, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, eventual smut and unprotected everything, language, character death, time travel, Logan hurting reader unintentionally, wounds and blood. Logan being a whore for both Jean Grey and the reader. Reader has slow aging as Logan and looks around mid 30s in my head. Anthropology teacher!reader. Reader can manipulate light (just like Starlight from The Boys). This takes place between different movies from the franchise, from X-Men 1 to DoFP, so spoilers of the movies ahead.

Notes: Long time no write. Life is horrible but somehow I managed to get this in like two months. I love Logan so fucking much now you don't have an idea. This was also written with Happy Mistake by Lady Gaga in mind. If you'd like to be tagged in the second part let me know or let me know your thoughts on this, it's very much appreciated! I suffered a lot writing it .

𝒊𝒇 𝒊 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒇𝒊𝒙 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏 𝒑𝒊𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒔, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒊'𝒅 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆.

—

2000

“Need any help?”

Logan stopped on his tracks from wandering around the cozy, yet strange place he woke up in. Turning on his feet, he saw your figure standing in the middle of the hallway. He said nothing, but you approached him as you had known him for a very long time.

“I assume you’re the new guy-”

“Where is she?” Logan abruptly interrupted once you stood inches away from him.

“Rogue? She’s fine. And you need to take a little rest.”

“I don’t need medical attention,” he said, looking around to search for a nearby exit. Before he walked away you took his arm in a soft grip.

He was, as much as you could tell, surprised by your boldness. You gave him no time to process his next movements once you talked again, your voice firm and welcoming in a way he had never felt before.

“Please, you need to meet Professor Xavier,” you said. “At least before you go. It’s totally fine if you wanna leave, I don’t recommend it though, but we can offer you a safe place here. We are just like you.”

Logan’s hardened expression relaxed for a moment, sensing no threat coming from you. All he saw in your eyes wasn’t pity, nor anger at him being kind of an asshole at first. It was just authority, the good kind where he also had something to say and decide about.

“Whatcha say, Logan?”

He was so immersed in his thoughts before you called his name, thinking it sounded beautiful falling off your lips. You gave him a half smile as he took in each detail of your face, as if he was memorizing every part of it.

It was the first time someone had been nice to him and it felt strangely good.

For some reason, it felt very good coming from you.

—

Logan just found out from the Professor’s mouth the mansion was a school for mutants. Gifted people, he called them. After learning another powerful mutant was behind him and Rogue, he had no other choice but accept the shelter. He didn’t like the other guys better, playing the teacher with a bunch of teenagers with special or cursed abilities. But besides Storm and Jean, you were the person who had welcomed him the most, even showing him the place and the room he would stay in.

One late night, you sat at the dining table together. Logan was silently drinking a beer outside school hours so the kids wouldn’t see him, and you, reading a bunch of papers from your students that you were missing. He realized how hard you worked, how you would praise your students, how you talked to them outside classes, being the one to actually convince Rogue to enroll in the school. Immediately, he knew you were really something, having much more in common than he thought. And you, living for so long, being both a mutant and a lady for sure had a hard life through time.

“What you teach again?” he suddenly asked, breaking the comfortable silence you shared.

“Anthropology,” you answered, giving him a short glance. “I took this at college a long time ago, and I’ve been alive long enough to know a thing or two,” you explained, putting away a paper after putting an A+ on it proudly. “It’s important to understand ourselves, humankind and mutants… It’s a diverse world and there are lots of cultures, languages and societies we don’t get to know, but it’s beautiful. I think I like to celebrate what makes us unique. I've had the chance to study some of them around the world since I had the time, y’know, and it’s truly amazing. It’s a shame we have to fight between us to make us heard when we could just be kind and empathetic to each other… Sorry, you didn’t ask but, y’know, anyway.”

You shook your head with a curve on your lips, going back to the next paper. Logan had taken the sparks in your eyes as you talked. He half smiled to himself once you buried yourself in your papers again, thinking you sounded just like Professor Xavier. No wonder why he took you in. Probably, if things were different for him, he would’ve found something that could light his face with so much passion just like you did.

“Been alive for almost two hundred years,” Logan said and you looked up to him. “We might have things about the past to share,” he drank from his beer. It was your turn to smile back at him.

“Yeah, well, I’ve lived both horrible but nice things. Couldn’t read or do math without being called a witch,” you chuckled to yourself, but hiding on the inside the awful experiences you had to endure. “Someday, we could go out and grab a coffee or something,” you said with a playful smile.

A light chuckle left your lips, but you and him knew it wasn’t just a joke.

He joined you with a warm smile that lit up his face before disappearing from his lips. “Of course. Count me in.”

—

The sun was shining bright and the weather was great that morning. Some of the students were in the yard playing, having some quality time, and others simply just left to go to the town. It was a good weekend before the next semester started, and it was better now knowing Magneto had been taken to prison after his failed attempt to use Rogue for his plans.

Sipping on your coffee, you saw the students outside. Laughing, running, having a good breakfast picnic. It felt heartwarming just taking this sight, wishing it would always be like this. Your mindful peace was interrupted when Logan entered the kitchen to have a coffee on his own. Visibly, you tensed just a little when he approached you and sat right in front of you at the dining table. The caffeine was not helping at all, you thought.

“Morning,” he greeted you, noticing something was off on you, but hoping it would pass. Maybe you already knew.

“Morning…” your voice came out as a whisper. “How you feeling?”

“Better. What about you?”

You gave a small nod. “Good, thanks for asking.”

A silence fell upon you. Not like the ones you used to share in lonely nights where you prepared your classes and Logan just sat down calmly because he couldn’t sleep. This time it was different. Words won’t come out of your mouth to ask what was really bothering you. You had grown up to like Logan and enjoy his company, but he had a lot of walls upon him, protecting himself of the world and people around him.

However, you understood why he did it. You both have been alive longer than anyone else. You saw people you love dearly dead, being killed because of your flaws. And you really connected to his idea of protecting people by leaving their side. It was better being away. That was until Professor Xavier recruited you. Here, you had a purpose and you helped young people to become the best versions of themselves. You wished Logan could do the same, stay and see he was more of what he thought of himself, but it wouldn’t happen. Right? He had things to sort out on his own.

“Are you leaving soon?”

When you asked the question, Logan knew you had heard something from the Professor. He gave you a nod.

“I need to reconnect with who I was,” he simply answered.

“Right… Wish you all the best there.”

Logan had grown to like you over the past few weeks you shared, exchanging experiences and lessons of life you had taken through the years. For a moment, he looked right into your eyes and smiled. He weirdly smiled, and you could swear he’d miss you too once he is away.

But that warm feeling soon faded away once Jean walked into the kitchen, saying good morning and beaming to the both of you. Logan followed her with his gaze, straightening himself on his seat as she served her own breakfast and an extra plate that you already knew was for Scott. She also began putting fruits and snacks inside a picnic basket while looking all happy and settled, and you knew why Logan had fallen in love with her. It was all over his face.

And you wondered how could he act and talk to you so kindly and sweet, and then look at Jean like that. It was a pain in your heart you tried to dissipate. Everyone knew Jean and Scott were a couple, and the fact that Logan had a not so secret crush on her really played on you. It made you feel like a fool and you had too many heartbreaks and hurted people, putting them in danger due to your mutation, to take initiative and start a relationship - or anything of the sort - again.

Scott made his way inside the kitchen, saying hi to both of you - mostly you. And took the tray with their plates as Jean grabbed the basket, but she let Scott leave the kitchen before.

“Have a good trip, Logan,” she said kindly. “I hope to see you around here soon.”

“Thank you, Jean.”

She smiled one last time before leaving you all alone, Logan following her with his eyes. Just for a second, you wished he could see you like that underneath his facade.

—

You had packed your stuff later that day, deciding a little air and a change for one night would do no wrong. Just as you were walking to the main door, Rogue was saying her goodbyes to Logan after giving him a small hug without really touching him. It was a cute sight how Rogue was able to step into his cold heart. She said goodbye to you as well before leaving the entrance.

“You’re going away too?” Logan asked, rather surprised as you both walked through the door, the sun hitting your skin as soon as you were out of the mansion. He knew your life was at the school.

“Just for the weekend,” you shrug it off.

Logan gave you a nod with a warm smile. “Then have a good trip and enjoy yourself.”

“Thanks. I hope you find what you’ve been looking for.”

“I hope so too,” Logan answered and before he went to take Scott’s bike, he looked at you hesitantly for a couple of seconds. “We should go out and grab some coffee once I’m back.”

Your lips formed a wide smile. “That sounds really nice.”

For a moment, where time felt like hours and not seconds, you stood right out the door, looking at each other. You wanted him to go first, but he was waiting for you to say something. Probably to ride the bike with him, he could leave you somewhere near your destination and feel you close - just be around you for at least five more minutes. But none of that ever happened.

Instead, you studied his face, looking at his deep eyes, and then his lips - those lips you wanted to kiss so bad before, but never had the courage to do so. You didn’t think further, and if something had taken possession over you, you leaned towards him leaving a short, sweet kiss on the corner of his lips.

“Take care,” you mumbled once you pulled away.

Not waiting for his answer, you turned back, pulling your bag to your side stronger than ever and walked the path to the front gates, feeling his gaze all over you until you left the mansion.

He felt such an idiot for not kissing you properly.

—

2003

‘I know what I want, but what do you want?’

Mystique’s words echoed through his head. Logan left the tent so long ago he didn’t know what time it was anymore and the situation kept repeating again and again in his mind. The woman had shifted between Jean, Ororo, and you. The one that icked him the most being Rogue once Mystique had taken her figure in. Storm was a good colleague, Jean was a forbidden love, Rogue was like his little sister, someone he would protect as long as he could, and you… you were a different case. When Mystique was about to kiss him wearing your figure, he finally realized he started feeling things he had prohibited himself for a very long time, and he thought he shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t.

Once or twice you shared experiences about love and partners, but he could tell it hurted you the same way as him. He couldn’t burden breaking your heart, or worse, getting you hurt because of what he was. Logan knew you had the same bad luck in the past, but it didn’t stop any of you to pull towards each other like a magnet.

‘Living for so long does things to you, Logan. I feel we become more aware of what we are.’

Those words you said to him one time remained in his head like a warning, and he took it personally.

Closing his eyes, he leaned against a hard tree trunk some feet away from the tents where the rest of the X-Men rested. He tried to find some peace alone for a few moments when the sounds of steps approaching alerted his senses. Claws out and ready to attack, he spun around the trunk only to stop in a second.

There you were, a bright light emanating from your hand to illuminate your path in the darkness of the woods.

“Logan?”

Quickly, he withdrew his claws and his body relaxed visibly. “Sorry,” he apologized, leaning against the tree one more time.

“Are you okay?” you asked, but you already knew the answer. The exhausted sigh he let out told you everything you needed. You let the soft glow of light floating between you and him, to illuminate both of you under the branches. “You wanna talk?”

He slowly shook his head, mumbling ‘no’. He became startled in the light floating like a firefly, letting his own issues wash away with your sole company. Ironically, everything that was troubling him was you. Softly, you caressed his arm, taking him out of his own thoughts. Your touch didn’t help his poor mind either.

Looking worried about the next mission in Lake Alkali, you feared for him and your team. And your lack of sleep was showing it. But just like Logan, the growing feelings were troubling your head. You had seen him talking with Jean earlier when you landed in the forest - talking too close to your liking once he pulled her for a kiss. But what could you do? Logan was still after Jean even when she had already declined him countless of times, and it didn’t really hurt you. It just felt strange inside. Why would he do that while still being nice to you, quitting being a dick when he wanted because he knew you’d snap back at him. And to be honest, Logan looked as if he liked that about you. But he won’t admit it out loud, and of course, you wouldn’t ask. Men were so damn complicated.

“Well, I only expect things to not get worse…” you finally said in a soft whisper since he wasn’t talking and you stopped your head going further on the matter. And you knew he wouldn’t talk soon either. “And you’re brave for seeking your past.”

Logan locked his eyes with your own, under the soft light. Your tired gaze, your figure, your aura pulling him like he found a treasure in an abandoned cave… He felt so bad for falling for someone like you, who was nothing compared to the crap he was. And then, for the first time in years, he decided to follow his instinct with you.

He leaned towards your figure, his rough hand cupping your cheek gently before pulling you in for a kiss. With a soft sigh you corresponded, your arms around his neck as it turned deeper and harsher. Logan lifted you easily from the ground, your legs tangling around his waist until you felt your back against a rough surface, trapped between the trunk and his body. Soft moans and grunts mingled, your chest pressing against his own, his hips grinding against your crotch. It was obvious you wanted this. Logan desired you so painfully after that day you kissed him goodbye at the mansion, he needed your body and soul. But you had to have answers before giving into the heat of the moment.

Pulling away, you broke the kiss, your forehead resting against his own as you tried to catch your breath. Logan tried to taste you once again, but you placed two of your fingers on his swollen lips.

“Why’d you kiss her?”

He remained silent, brows furrowed and eyes blown in lust. You didn’t make any effort to pull him away. He still had you between his legs, asking a simple question he had no response for.

“We’re adults here, Logan. Just wanna know why before we go further.”

Logan started to remember. He vividly heard Jean and Mystique voicing out and asking the right question.

‘Girls flirt with the bad guy. They take the good guy home.’

‘What do you want?’

“Do you really want me?” he asked in return.

You lifted an eyebrow at his sudden question. “And do you?”

He leaned again for a kiss on your lips, and thankfully for him, you didn’t stop it. But he quickly pulled away and inhaled your sweet scent from the skin on your neck, leaving a path of soft pecks, until he nipped the shell of your ear softly. You shivered under his touch.

“I’d love to have you,” he whispered, softly caressing your cheek with his thumb.

“Come to my tent,” you mumbled. “Sleep with me. But like, seriously, sleep with me ‘cause I’m tired,” you chuckled, hoping to not kill the mood.

Logan smiled for a bit and nodded, pecking your lips one more time before helping you get on your feet on the muddy ground, hands rubbing your sides slowly.

“As long as I have you by my side it’s alright with me.”

—

Jean’s death was hard to swallow.

For weeks, students and teachers mourned her, and you felt sorry for Scott for losing his soulmate. Logan was not in the best shape either. He didn’t attend her funeral, he never had the guts to stand by her grave either, until now. You stopped right behind him and noticed him sighing, under the afternoon sunset. He was tense because of everything, but when you took his hand out of the pocket of his jacket, he held onto you. Your fingers intertwined together, feeling his life depending solely on you, like a rock he needed to support his whole weight.

The day was about to end, the sun slowly hiding, giving a beautiful painting of orange and purple in the sky. You thought it would soon become an intense thunderstorm due to Ororo’s mourn - something you had gotten used to the last few days.

“She saved us,” Logan barely mumbled, looking intensely at the grave.

You nodded, even if he could not see you. “Can’t blame her, I’d have done the same.”

Those words cause him to look back at you, wishing it’d be a lie. But inside, Logan knew you really had the guts to sacrifice yourself for others. It was something he remembered both of you talking about some time ago. And you would give everything in your hands to save the ones you love.

Quietly, Logan gave a last glance at Jean’s grave, and guided you inside the mansion. Classes barely started again due to the circumstances and a few kids could be seen around the halls. You accompanied him to the doors of his room, noticing you had been holding hands the whole time. Probably no one really cared, they were too busy trying to go through the grief of losing a loved one. Slowly, you broke the gesture, taking your hand away and Logan immediately missed the heat and comfort of your hand.

“Do you need anything?” you asked in a low voice.

Looking at you, Logan reminisced how you kissed in the woods, the need and lust for each other that couldn’t be. He did sleep in your tent that night, in the comfort of your arms, feeling the warmth of your skin. It was, probably, the first time he had a good, peaceful night of sleep in years. No one had brought that up, but he knew something was there. And he needed to act on it before it was too late.

So he brought up his hands to your face, cupping your cheeks lovingly before planting a kiss on your lips, not caring he was standing in the middle of the hallway where anyone could see what was going on. You leaned against his touch, deepening the kiss until you couldn’t catch a breath. When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead into yours, taking in the beauty of your bright eyes and swollen lips. Everything wandering his mind, making a path right into his cold heart was right in front of him.

“You.”

—

Knocking Professor Xavier's door, you walked inside as soon as his voice announced to come in. You caught your breath seeing Logan by his desk. He just gave you a quick, accomplice glimpse and left the room, closing the door behind. The exchange of glances wasn’t unnoticed by Charles.

“Here’s the report on my subject for this last semester, Professor,” you announced, leaving the folder on the wooden desk.

“Thank you. How’s Logan doing?” he asked all of a sudden, checking the door the man had crossed just seconds ago.

“Excuse me?”

“Do you believe he is comfortable helping the kids?” the old man asked again. He was seeing right through you, and you kind of hated every time he used to do that to you. Nothing could be hidden from Xavier; definitely you couldn’t hide a single thing for the man who took you in decades ago.

“Why would I know that?”

He shrugged it off. “Well, you seem very close lately.”

Close was not the best word to describe your relationship with Logan. Yet, you were sleeping on his bed just the night before. The trace of his kisses, the burn of his beard on your skin, his teeth biting softly your breasts, his rough hands all over your hips… Every touch he left on your body you could still feel it, and you wanted to think he was not just using you. During the past weeks, you were together. Not quite a relationship-thing was established properly, but it was the closest thing any of you could have as for now.

It was a mixture of grief, pain, and hope that had you both still standing. In the end, you understood what he felt. Being alone and alive for so long and then finding a place where people accepted you for who you were was a whole change, even if some years passed by. Though, the time Logan had been spending at the school was nothing but a blink of an eye compared to his past.

“What happened to our team is still affecting us,” you finally said. “I believe we are good friends, yes, we’ve been supporting each other. And he doesn’t know how to deal with the students yet most of the time, but I try to walk him through it.”

Xavier hummed, smiling at the corner of his lips as he eyed the folder you handed him. “I bet you both do.Thanks for bringing your report on time, as always, and I apologize if I am being intrusive. Just please be careful with the noises both of you make at night, we have kids around here.”

Shit.

You swallowed your pride right there and simply gave a nod, feeling the heat burning up your face.

“Will do, Professor.”

—

A loud gasp escaped your lips as you held for dear life on his broad shoulders, hips snapping against your own. His pace was reckless, keeping you on the edge of sin. Grunts mixed with sweet moans, skin hitting skin again and again every time you felt his cock inside you. If possible, your nails could have already left visible scars and marks on his back, scratching and bleeding off his skin as he fucked you senseless.

Logan sucked on the bare skin on your neck, inhaling your scent, feeling your walls clenching around his girth, his hands roughly grabbing the sides of your hips as you moaned his name, over and over, under the moonlight. He looked at you intensely with loving eyes when you came underneath him, eyes flashing that familiar bright light every time a powerful orgasm hit your body. The vulnerable sight of your figure shaking, eyes closing slowly and biting your lip to keep the pretty noises low, made him reach the sweetest high.

With a grunt, he leaned to attack your lips in a heated, wet kiss to moan against your mouth. Logan pulled back to press butterfly kisses on your jaw, until he reached your breasts, feeling himself soften inside your wet heat. His hips were still thrusting just enough to fill you up at a gentle rhythm. Marking you his and only his.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he mumbled against the sensitive skin of your chest. “Remind me why we’re here again.”

You chuckled softly, fingers tangling on his disheveled hair. You just had prepared a small date night out at the shores of a beautiful lake in the woods. No one could bother you if you were alone, and since your relationship was not so secret anymore, you needed him in a place that wasn’t the school. So here you were, laying on your back, fully naked on the picnic blanket, with the Wolverine between your legs, enjoying the calmness of the water, the green grass, the crickets singing around, and the cold of the night.

“Privacy perhaps?” you whispered as his eyes locked on yours.

Softly you touched his cheek with the palm of your hand and he rolled both of you over, until you laid on top of him, legs straddling his waist and your arms on his shoulders to sit on his lap. Silence took over, his hands soothing your hips and the marks he left on your body from the intense love-making.

“I’m so happy we took a couple of days off…”

You waited for Logan to say something. Anything. You wanted to continue, to tell him how you really felt. Instead, you decided it was better leaving it like this. Logan gave you a nod, pulling you for a short kiss.

“Yeah. Me too.”

He wanted to say it out loud, but was too scared to do so.

—

2006

After a couple of long years, the school and the team had to learn how to go through the grief and pain Jean left. Logan had a hard time processing it, just like all your teammates, specially Scott, and of course the students. It didn’t stop you from moving on as time went by though, always remembering her for the great person and mind she was. Going forward and keeping fighting is what she would’ve wanted for everyone, even now that a certain cure for mutants was announced to the public.

You tried to continue your life as a professor at the school, training students, leading young people, and you invited and encouraged Logan to do so countless times. Deep inside, you wished it was you the reason why Logan decided to stay and train young mutants - for you to be the answer to his loneliness. That he knew, for once and all, that he was not alone. You got each other, and you could do something about it. Words unspoken said more than anything, at least you thought so.

It was one of those rare nights where you got some time for yourselves, walking around the city after having a nice and calm dinner. Your shoulders brushed against each other while you walked downtown, your hands hiding inside the pockets of your jacket, protecting them from the cold.

There was a lot on your mind lately, thinking about what you two really were. If there was a stronger feeling in between, or if it was solely because he enjoyed your company and that was it. Both had lived enough to know there was a feeling in the middle. It wasn’t just friends with benefits, or co-workers who sleep together three times a week. Something was blooming deep inside you, but you tried to not give it a lot of attention all those years. Still, it felt like it had to be addressed sooner or later, and this could be the time. In the end, you understood each other perfectly. How painful it was, how living longer than anyone was, how you had to leave everything and everyone behind because you were dangerous…

“Have you ever wondered how’d it feel to have a normal life?” your question came out all of the sudden.

“How come?” He looked at you from the corner of his eye.

You didn’t know if his gaze was judging you but you continued anyway.

“Like living a normal amount of years… Not having these things, genes that make us different. Or special…”

Logan suddenly stopped in his tracks and grabbed your arm softly so you could lock eyes together as he asked. “You’re not thinking of getting that damn cure, aren’t you?”

“Of course not!”

“Then why’d you think that?”

“Because I never had anyone in my life, Logan,” you spat, pulling your arm away from his grip. “I’ve been alive for so long but I can’t promise myself a future. A real one. Not anything, it doesn’t matter if I live forever. Every person I loved before perished.”

Those words shook him out of the rough façade showing on his face. Your gaze told a hundred different stories when he studied your face every time. It was like mirroring himself at some point. You were the first person he ever got to know that has lived as long as he has, and maybe it was the sentimentalism, but he tried to push away those wishes of settling down. Of trying to be normal. Because he was not, and maybe, just maybe, you just didn’t accept it like he did. Probably, he was just giving up. But you weren’t, even after hundreds of years of disgrace continuously happening.

“I thought you’d get this, Logan.”

You mumbled, taking him out of his trance.

“Well, I do, in a way,” he said, but sounded more like an excuse for himself.

“Then why don’t you say it?”

“Wha-”

“Just say it,” you repeated and pointed between you and him. “What is this for you? What are we?”

Logan grabbed on your shoulders gently and leaned towards you, stealing a kiss on the sidewalk, a kiss you obliged with a bittersweet feeling for some reason, but then he whispered. “Darling, you’re everything to me now.”

Yet, you smiled and kissed him back, feeling his lips curve against your own. Well, that wasn’t so hard was it?

—

Needless to say, after the last date, your relationship with Logan had evolved to something more domestic, considering you lived together in your workplace. Affection, holding hands, quick kisses were shared now a little more freely, and you had received a couple of jokes and teases from some students and Storm. But it was fine as long as you had cleared your path with Logan, even if he didn’t act like a partner sometimes.

The certain calmness you felt one day disappeared when Logan and Ororo went to look for Scott, who often had these sad thoughts, and since Jean was his partner, it was thoroughly complicated for him to say the least. When Logan and Ororo came back to the mansion, it was not what you expected to see. Jean was alive and Scott was gone.

It hurted you, knowing first hand that their love wouldn’t be anymore. You met both of them when they were so young, becoming something like their mentor when they used to learn how to control their powers and how to fit in this world that loathed mutants to death. Now, the school was something else. It was a big, special place that was not the same without the brains of Jean, or the enthusiasm and leadership of Scott. Things were different, they had to change because the circumstances told so, and everyone had a difficult time adapting to it. One thing after another left you tired, with no option to run away, even if you wanted to. The complicated circumstances and the relationship you shared with Logan were no help either.

While on your way to check on Jean, who was still under observation after a couple of days, you stopped in your tracks when the heavy door of the med bay slid. Logan, looking all out of his daily self and mad, found you at the entrance, and you felt something different emanating from him.

For what you could see behind him, Jean was still asleep, and the Professor called Logan to come back with a serious voice, but he ignored the older man, instead approaching you.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Logan grasped your arm, his tone lower and deeper than usual.

You quickly pulled off his grip and hissed. “What are you talking about?”

“Jean.”

You felt silent. Of course she was anything he could think of since they found her.

“You knew he was controlling her,” Logan went on and your heart skipped a beat.

The look in your eyes told everything but lies. Logan scoffed and walked away, leaving you standing alone under Professor Xavier’s gaze.

“I’ll talk to him,” you mumbled at your mentor before following Logan, trying to keep his pace until he reached his room.

The whole way you tried to keep it professional, greeting students as normally you would, but when you crossed his door it was impossible to continue with the facade.

“Logan-”

“He’s insane,” he snapped, putting his jacket on and taking his bag out.

“Everything that was done was meant to protect her,” you responded calmly as he placed a handful of clothes inside the bag.

“No, you did it because you are disgusting. I bet this is what should’ve been for me if I refused to cooperate with your circus or something.”

“You don’t know what she is capable of-”

“Yeah, well I don’t wanna hear it anymore. This is so fucked up, even for you,” he continued, bag on his hand taking long strides until you were almost touching noses.

You scoffed, trying to laugh at the irony. “What does that even mean? Do you know how horrible it is to be controlled by the Phoenix inside her?.”

Logan rolled his eyes, not wanting to hear another poor excuse. You continued anyway, looking straight in his eyes before he could leave you hanging with your own words. Exactly like he used to do every damn time when you had an argument. Today, he wouldn’t run away that fast.

“She could kill you in a second and won’t hesitate. For her, we’re nothing. We’re not rivals, we can’t do shit. The only thing we could do was keep her alter ego somewhere hiding inside her mind, or else we wouldn’t be here arguing about something you never witnessed. Because I did and you don’t wanna see that, trust me,” you spat at him. He breathed rage at your words and you knew that it was getting on his nerves seeing the way his hands turned to fists. “And you think this version of her cares for you? Or that she loves you? Jean is gone now, Logan, fucking get over it.”

With last harsh words, you turned around and left the room, closing the door with a thud.

Logan breathed out. He wanted to scream, hit something, run away… Anything to let it out. He was a reckless mess but how could he react and accept Charles was playing with Jean’s mind? And you fucking knew all this time and didn’t say anything? Were his feelings dirty on him right now? Probably. Shit, he took years to finally tell you the truth about his love and affection towards you. He spent months trying to find the right words just to say ‘I love you’, and still, it seemed it wasn’t enough. The forbidden love he felt for Jean never disappeared, and he felt guilty for it.

—

You walked down to the med bay after calming down for a bit. You only needed to check on Jean for a moment and see how she was doing. Years prior, you had witnessed what the Phoenix was capable of, so you didn’t really question Charles’ methods when it came to hide this dangerous side of her inside her mind. You also thought your words might have been a little harsh on Logan, but it was the truth. He didn’t know who the Phoenix was and, if his feelings for Jean resurfaced after believing her being dead, then it wasn’t on you. As much as you loved him, as much as you tried and somehow managed to move on together, he was so easily dragged to her.

The anger you felt before took over you once again, as you found the metal doors of the lab in debris. Quickly, you made your way inside the room and found Jean wasn’t there and that Logan was lying unconscious on the floor. You knelt down by his side, calling him over and over and touching his face and shaking his shoulders until he finally opened his eyes slowly, coming back to reality.

“Logan, what happened?”

“She… she killed Scott. The Phoenix,” he whispered. You could tell he was a little weak and out of breath.

“You’re lucky she just ran away,” you pointed out, helping him to sit down. His eyes were lost in the mess in the room. Tools were destroyed, test tubes broken, crystal was everywhere, and Jean left the reminder of kissing him, yet again, before she escaped. God, he felt so idiotic.

“I’m sorry,” Logan said, looking at you. “Sorry for being a jerk. It’s my fault.”

Taking his cheeks between your hands, you gave him a reassuring look. “We’re gonna find her, okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah, we’ll find her.”

“Come here, we need to alert Charles,” you said, helping him to stand up.

Inside, you knew he wouldn’t really need your help. He was strong and indestructible like the metal on his skull, but he seemed really taken back, and you decided to stay by his side, holding his hand strongly as a way to say sorry as well. It was kind of difficult to see Logan in that state of mind, confused and lost, and you wondered what had happened back there in the lab as you left him in his bedroom, ordering him to rest for a while.

“I’ll be right back,” you assured him with loving eyes.

Logan nodded, following your figure stepping out the room and disappearing in the hallway.

He let out a breath he didn’t know was holding. His mind was having a hard time and his heart felt like breaking, going in two opposite directions, and he hated himself for that. His fate was always the same: losing people he loved and cared for dearly. So seeing Jean back again was as if god or anything up there remembered he existed and brought her back just for him. Or maybe he was just being selfish because he already had you.

You were everything for him. A couple of years might be just a short glimpse for both of you, but he was able to feel peace and calm next to you, and he was sure you did as well. Because some nights, that was all you could talk about. Logan didn’t mind hearing you for hours, it reminded him he was alive. With you, but his stupid instinct had to act.

It was his fault Jean had left. The kiss, the whole act of embracing each other’s bodies for at least two minutes, and then her breakdown, begging for him to kill her… All of that was enough to bring out the beast inside her. And he felt such a jerk now for following his desires. He already had you. Wasn’t that enough?

His thoughts were interrupted once you arrived again, finding him sitting at the end of the bed exactly as you had left him there. Sensing something different on him, you sat down by his side and rubbed his hand gently.

“We might know where she’s going,” you whispered.

“I’ll go,” Logan said before you could finish.

“I’m not sure if I should ask, but are you okay? You could do some rest,” you suggested, since seeing the redhead was clearly getting some kind of reaction from him.

“No, I need to go,” he said. But Logan could read your face perfectly, and he knew you didn’t really like the idea of him leaving the mansion. You turned your eyes, scanning the room and avoiding his gaze.

You had the need to ask what exactly had happened back there with Jean, but you didn’t want to start a fight either. Feeling Logan’s hand on your shoulder, he leaned to kiss your forehead goodbye. Maybe you were the one who should stay, check the kids, the school…

“It’ll be fine,” he mumbled, voice low and deep, as if trying to convince you, but himself as well. You nodded with your arms around his neck, giving him a hug that felt like some sort of apology you weren’t able to say out loud. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”

And how you’d wish things would be fine.

—

The school has been very quiet lately. Too silent even for his taste. At nights like these, he could still feel the vigor and presence of the students running around, grabbing something to eat, planning to go out for a while... Instead, Logan found himself in a place that was mourning. Grieving the loss of Jean, Scott and Charles.

The feelings inside were complicated. He didn’t really feel the same, and the disgrace and remorse of his actions were growing on him. They were still haunting him; every day, every single night. You knew it too. It was impossible to ignore the nightmares each time he woke up from seeing Jean’s lifeless body fall against his own after he gave what she wished for the most: death.

And then, there was you. He noticed how difficult it was getting for you to sleep. You tried to hide your sorrow into your work, studying even more, keeping yourself busy with the school and not thinking about anything else. Since Charles was gone, Ororo took his place and you were her second hand. But you pushed yourself too hard.

Tonight he found your bedroom empty. He didn’t find you on his either, so he went to the place he knew you would be: your classroom. The door was half opened, the dim light of the lamp on your desk barely illuminated the papers on the surface. He found you deeply concentrated reading on something, hands on the sides of your head hiding your face.

“Hey,” he softly mumbled, stepping inside the empty classroom.

You quickly straightened yourself on the chair, wiping your cheeks and tried to look decent for a moment.

“Hey,” you replied back, low voice.

“Come to bed,” he said, coming to stand before you, his hand on your shoulder comforting and soothing you, making its way to the side of your neck. His big palm on your cheek, caressing the skin stained with your tears as if it was the most delicate thing. He took a look at the mess of papers and old books you loved too much to get rid of, scattered on the wooden surface.

“No, I- I can’t. Need to finish these by tomorrow…”

Logan gave you a nod and a grimace before taking your hand, motioning to come closer. You stood up, knowing he was trying to get you out of the work that was consuming you.

He observed every feature on your face, the sadness in your stare couldn’t be hidden. He just knew you too well, just like the palm of his hand, and he wanted to make you forget. At least for a little. You had taken care of him, helped him with your presence and your unique aura, bringing him comfort and peace to his broken mind. He wanted you to be fine. To feel loved.

Logan leaned just exactly to brush his lips with your own, teasing a kiss that he longed too much, his hands around your waist pulling you towards him.

“Can you just let me take care of you?”

Swallowing hard the knot on your throat, you curled your lips as much as the grief let you. “Yes,” you nodded.

With this, Logan leaned until your lips connected. Your arms around his neck pulled him as closer as you could get, feeling his chest against your own, his strong hands around your waist, softly touching you above your clothes.

Logan slowly walked you until your back hit the desk, hands roaming on your ass down to your legs, placing you to sit down over the loose pages. It might ruin the work a little, but none of you cared. Everything in your head was him, between your legs, running his wet mouth down your jaw, his stubble burning your skin as you gasped gently. Lying on your back on the desk, he began descending down your breasts, unbuttoning your blouse until he exposed you to the cold of the room.

He stopped right on your trousers, and gave you a quick glance. You were so eager, wet already. He could sense it. Your eyes were glowing and you were already trying to catch your breath by just his kisses and touch.

“You locked the door?” you whispered.

“Damn right I did,” he voiced, hoarse and low voice from just thinking of railing you right there and then.

“Then don’t stop.”

At your command, he unzipped your trousers, letting them fall down along with your heels on the floor. He then leaned to take your lips in a sloppy kiss, more urgent this time of feeling you close. You moaned, nails scratching his skin. His calloused hands explored your bare legs and things, creating friction with his hips with slow, controlled thrusts against your crotch. Logan left a trail of kisses down to your breasts, licking and tasting the saltiness of your body.

You urged him to go down where you ached the most, hand tangling on his hair. His hands grabbed the back of your thighs, spreading to him until his nose was almost buried on your panties, smelling and taking the sweetness of your scent, licking softly with his wet tongue over the fabric. A trail of moans and curses left your lips. He pulled your panties aside before diving in your pussy, licking your folds and teasing your hole with two of his fingers.

“Logan…”

His name repeatedly left your mouth like a plea, his fingers now inside you, stretching your walls for him. The noises grew obscene and nasty as he ate you out like a sweet craving he had been denying himself the pleasure for so long.

He was growing hard just by hearing your whimpers, and he needed you. You always were a fucking longing for him. Your words, your intelligence, your beauty… Everything he needed, you had it. And still, he didn’t have any idea of how such a rational, smart woman like you learned to love him so deeply.

You tugged on his hair, hips thrusting up to meet his growling mouth. You were so close, felt almost there where you wanted, but he pulled away before you finished.

Logan unzipped his jeans leaning back, admiring your blissed out eyes and glistened figure.

“Come here,” you begged in a whisper, tangling your legs around his waist.

He let out a low, dirty chuckle, feeling your hands on his boxers, freeing his erection.

“So fucking eager,” Logan breathed kissing your lips, hands supporting his weight at the sides of your head on the desk.

You tasted yourself within the kiss and you moaned at his words, your hand pumped him just enough to feel his pre cum leaking already, lining his dick with your cunt. Inch by inch, he entered slowly so you could get used to his size. Logan pecked your lips gently, kissing your cheeks and the side of your neck to get into your sensitive skin. You tugged on his white shirt so he could remove it and he ripped your bra apart right after. He loved to feel your chest pressed against his own. You gasped but paid no mind, instead urging him to move inside you.

“Shit, Logan please-”

A particular harsh trust caught your breath on your throat. You held onto dear life with your hands on his shoulders. He pounded into you rock hard and deep. So damn deep the desk was shrieking under, papers fell off and the lamp moved at the same rhythm but you hoped it won’t break.

Logan growled, inhaling your scent and tasting the sweat forming on your collarbone, your breasts bouncing against his chest. He felt your nails trailing down his back, and oh, how he wished he could get damn scars on just by fucking you like this. But the view of you, squirming under him, eyes closed, being a whimpering mess… All because of him. He was so insanely in love with your fucked out expression every time.

Your walls clenched, close to the sweet end. Logan felt himself twitching inside your warm pussy and his thrusts were getting erratic and sloppy. He filled you up, reaching his own climax first, hot white ropes of cum painting your insides. Your pussy milked him all the way as he kept spliting you open until you let yourself go, legs trembling around his waist.

For a moment, you stayed like this, with him kissing your shoulder and caressing your thigh, taking in the aftermath of your intense lovemaking.

“Thank you…”

Your whisper forced him to look up at you. There it was, that loving, sweet gaze you had reserved just for him.

He nodded, palm on your jaw holding you gently. “Of course…”

For some reason, he wanted to voice out for once those stupid three words.

I love you.

Or at least hoped you would do it first.

—

The night was cold under the moonlight, almost freezing. He wondered how he got trapped there, between the messy, withered shrubbery, fog, and the trees of a forest he never recalled knowing. He was alert, senses to the limit in case something might attack him. He felt as if he was being watched, but there were no eyes he could find around. He couldn’t see much like that.

But then a voice started to call his name from afar, claws coming out immediately as he sharpened his senses to find the owner. One, two, three times he heard, trying to find the person who was calling but there was only darkness. His heart skipped a beat when someone spoke behind him.

“Logan…”

He turned on his feet and he felt like dying again. “Jean?”

He withdrew his claws back immediately. The redhead smiled, coming closer until she touched his cheek with a soft hand before pulling away. “How are you, Logan?”

“What-”

“Are you happy now?” she asked, beaming brightly as if they were in a casual conversation instead of the darkness of the woods.

His brows furrowed. She couldn’t be real. She wasn’t there with him. Jean was gone, he had killed her because it was what she wanted. It was her way out to get what she needed; it was the key to her freedom…

“What do you mean?”

“With her… Be careful. You could kill her. Just like me,” Jean whispered, tears forming in her eyes.

Logan stepped back, trying to get away. He shook his head in disbelief, not knowing exactly why Jean was saying this to him.

“No… You’re not real…”

“Everything you love is destined to death and chaos, Logan. You shouldn’t be there,” Jean continued, her eyes switching from her usual tone to a deep black. The ground began trembling under their feet with each step of her, wind building up around. Logan felt truly scared, but somehow he couldn’t run, just stand there as she approached. “All she will know is a life of suffering if you stay. She doesn’t need that.”

“Jean-”

“She doesn’t need you!”

“Jean!”

And then it happened so fast. His claws buried on her chest, the Phoenix disappearing and leaving her to die. Jean collapsed against his body and Logan reminisced about the events of that battle, where he had to choose to be selfish or liberate her from her own demons. Logan wasn’t sure why he stabbed her like this. And when he thought Jean was dead in his arms, she started to call his name again. This time, he heard it far away.

Logan.

Logan…

Logan!

His eyes went wide open. And there you were, by his side on the bed, calling for him with a pain grimace on your face. His claws buried on your stomach.

“Logan…” you gasped and he pulled the claws out, but you were already bleeding, your nightshirt and the mattress stained.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry- I-”

“It’s okay,” you managed to say as he caressed your cheek before taking you in his arms hurriedly and quickly made the way out of your room through the halls. “The nightmares… I know, Logan…”

“God, I’m so sorry, please forgive me. Hank!” Logan stood outside the scientist’s door. “Hank, I need your help!”

The commotion caused some of the students to peek from their doors, and Logan waited outside what he felt it was forever under the gazes of the teenagers. It wasn’t the first time he had caused the same accident. The door opened, finally revealing a sleepy Hank putting his glasses on.

There was no need to explain what had happened.

—

“She’ll be stable soon,” Hank informed once he let Logan inside the med bay. “If you hadn’t brought her soon…”

Logan swallowed the knot on his throat, watching your unconscious figure on the stretcher. You already had received blood to cover up what you lost because of the wounds, and Logan’s claws were not minor weapons. His mind was a mess, confusion taking over. He didn’t know how he let this happen. He had nightmares pretty often, yes, but nothing like this.

Maybe Jean was right. Maybe she was trying to warn him about something. Or Jean was just trying to protect you from him. The last one felt more realistic. Logan wouldn’t hurt you, not ever. You talked about how dangerous it was to sleep together not so long ago, but you had insisted on staying. It was the first time something felt so damn real in his dreams and he wished you wouldn’t let him in your room that night…

“She’ll wake up, right?” Logan asked.

“Absolutely,” Hank nodded. “I will need to monitor her vital signs though, hopefully within a day or two she will be normal again… At least she’ll be stable until the wounds heal completely.”

Of course, Logan thought. You didn’t have a healing factor just like him.

“I’ll be right back,” Hank announced before stepping out of the room, leaving Logan alone.

He felt so guilty for doing this to you. For everything. For being the cause of your suffering now. He was a threat and mentally unstable. He was strong thanks to his genes, but he was weak on the inside. He promised countless times to protect you, but he couldn’t avoid hurting you himself. It didn’t matter that it was a very bad dream that felt disgustingly real, he had failed and hurted someone who truly loved. Again.

Taking your hand gently into his, he leaned to plant a kiss on your forehead, wishing it would be just another game from his mind.

But it wasn’t. Now, he had the person he loved the most lying unconscious and hurted because he would let his darkest thoughts consume him.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, watching you sleep peacefully. “I should have said it sooner.”

PART TWO

#logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x you #logan howlett x female reader #wolverine smut #logan howlett smut #logan howlett angst #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine angst #james logan howlett #x men fanfiction #wolverine fanfiction #hugh jackman fanfiction #hugh jackman wolverine

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danielleargentino · 5 months ago

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blackbright stuff + rant for todayyy!!!! happy holidays everybody :))

christmas blackbright . hell yeah

silly doodles for a twitter thing.

ms paint thing i did in 10 minutes based on a song i really really like (luna roja by soda stereo). please listen to it i'm begging youuuu. if you do tell me your thoughts on the tags pleasepleaseple

very quick aziracrow gomens thing . not a fan but felt like sharing you know. whatever man. i might edit it later though

blackbright body hcs andd the little rant!! i've been thinking about them and how i want to interpret their relationship . so i've decided that my drawings will feature an au where bobby was kidnapped and rescued a short time after turnabout for tomorrow. very important warning i need to do research and stuff for this, these are just my initial thoughts on the matter. stuff will probably change.

he and simon reunite, they had worked together 7 years ago on some cases and met again much later a week before bobby's abduction (which was a bit before the events on dual destinies). now that they're meeting once more, feelings are weird and complex.

the phantom has affected them both a lot, the trauma is fresh and simon didn't even get a chance to process his feelings of betrayal before bobby appears again and now he's feeling so many things at once he thinks he might die. they have a slowburn that also goes super quick ? how do i explain it.

after a month or two, they impulsively move in together because they can't stand how lonely their respective houses are. they're pretty much the only ones who can understand each other, they need each other a lot; but they also feel like running away and from the other and hiding forever.

simon needs constant reassurance that bobby is himself and not the phantom; on occasions he can't look at him in the eyes, he feels unsafe with him at times and has to leave and look for other's company and comfort. still, he also wants to cling to bobby and never let him leave again, to know him properly, to learn to love him healthily.

bobby on the other hand feels horribly guilty, responsible for the things the phantom had done and the damage he'd caused simon even before taking his form. the way simon looks at him sometimes makes him feel dangerous, but because of that he needs to be there for simon, to help him heal, to give him all the love he's been deprived of.

they have to work a lot on their problems, attend a lot of therapy and take some time off work, and, slowly but surely, learn to trust and love each other.

aaghdhs whatever these are just sketchy thoughts please don't be mean if you don't like them i will cry a lot and die

same au, three years after aa5 just like in the previous picture because. i like to draw them healed and happy. but i will draw more of their process.

...about that, however, i won't be able to draw on my computer for like two weeks starting this saturday, since i'm going on vacation. i really hope i can buy a new drawing tablet when i come back, tho!

thank you if you read everything <3 wishing you all a happy new year in advance too!

#ace attorney #bobby fulbright #simon blackquill #blackbright #my art

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belovedmusings · 1 year ago

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Take me down slow, control, and abuse me.

Choso Kamo x You x Suguru Geto

Explicit Themes 18+ (🚫Minors DNI🚫)

Part eight of the 'Two + One' story. Click for story masterlist.

Guitarist! Choso Kamo is your boyfriend, and he just woke you up in the middle of the night after he heard you having a certain dream about his bandmate, Suguru. This is the subsequent conversation.

Relevant tags: sexual tension, thoughts of infidelity, characters with questionable morals, Choso is sweet and loyal, slow burn, no "y/n" for immersion, 2nd POV, reader has no defining characteristics, explicit smut, cowgirl, riding, nipple play (fem receiving), oral sex (male receiving), soft and tender sex, love bites, creampie

Recommended songs to listen to while reading: Use Me (PLAZA), I Wanna Be Yours (Arctic Monkeys), fue mejor (Kali Uchis, SZA)

A/N: Enjoy ;)

Read on Ao3 if you prefer!

Or read below cut:

His eyes are locked on yours. There’s no vindication—just confusion. You can’t lie to him. It hurts too much to even think about telling this precious man you love an untruth.

“Choso,” You begin, slicing through the tension-thick air. There’s a lump already forming in your throat, and you brace yourself to lose the man you love. “I…I need to be honest with you.”

Worry instantly etches into his features. “…all right.”

“When I said I just thought he was good-looking, that…that wasn’t the entire truth. I…ever since we met him, I-I’ve been attracted to him but I-I…I love you so much, the guilt is eating me alive.”

It all comes out in a rush, the truth of your feelings, and it takes him a moment to catch up with you to process your words.

He digests the initial part first. “Ever…since we met him? You mean, at my audition?”

You nod shamefully. It’s begun–and you decide now is the best time to just get it all out. There’s no way he’s going to accept everything you’ve done, because you know you wouldn’t, but you just can’t keep hiding things from him. This is the man you love, and what is love without honesty?

After you start, it just pours out of you.

Everything that has happened. Initiating sex in the car after you left his house because he’d turned you on, listening to his voice on repeat through the band’s songs, the fantasizing, the stolen moments that happened in Suguru’s kitchen, then backstage at their concert, then three times again that same night, once at the bar, then in the car, then in your living room after Choso had been carried to bed, then two months later when you brought him back to talk after running into him at the grocery store. All of the forbidden touches, the heated words, the almost-kisses–you spill it all. He deserves to know. He’s too good of a person to be with someone as horrible as you.

By the time you finish, the two of you had sat up in bed, a bedside lamp on to illuminate the room. Sleep is lost on you both now.

For a while, he just sits there in silence, eyes trained on the foot of the bed. It feels stuffy yet cold, and you wonder if you’ve stopped breathing at some point, waiting for his response. You’re not even sure what you expect. How can anyone possibly react to something like what you just told him?

Your heart drops through you at the first sight of a tear sliding down his cheek. He hasn’t said anything, but it’s clear that he’s hurting.

What have you done? You were given the most precious boyfriend in the world and you’ve screwed it up by being selfish and undisciplined?

He parts his lips, searching for the words. They only come after another beat of silence.

“...all of that…” He begins in a gravelly voice, one you know he uses when he’s holding back his emotions, “and…all I can think about is…I’m in the way of you and him, aren’t I?”

You had no idea what you expected, but that reaction is ten-thousand times worse than anything you could’ve conjured up in your head.

“No,” Your own voice shakes, you’re hurt because you hurt Choso, “You’re not…you’re not in the way, you’re my boyfriend. I love you.”

“But you want him,” He replies, voice strained. His eyes are still averted from you. “And he wants you. Not just a little, either.”

What argument can you make? You just have to speak from the heart. “Choso, I swear to god, I love you and Suguru hasn’t affected the way I feel about you in the slightest.”

“But I’m not your only option,” He says, monotony terribly forced as more tears stream down his cheeks. “And your other option is Suguru. The guy who is everything I am and more.”

You wonder if the crack you just felt in your heart was audible. “What?”

“He can give you the things I can…and the things I can’t.”

You need to fix this now.

“You’re the man I love,” You say, “Choso, what we have is so special, and–”

“I want what’s best for you,” Choso interrupts you, finally meeting your eyes. They’re glassy and weighted. “I just want you to be happy. He can make you happy.”

“No,” You instantly say, “No, loving you is what makes me happy. Being with you makes me happy. I don’t want to leave you, Choso. I don’t.”

“If you’re happy with me, then why…why do you want Suguru that badly?”

The full truth. What has exactly cemented itself within your soul–you need to bear it to him now.

“Choso,” You begin, taking his hands and locked eyes with him. “I need you to believe me when I say that I have never ever second-guessed my feelings for you. I know that I am in love with you, and every single moment with you is a blessing that I will forever be grateful for. It’s just that…since I met Suguru, I’ve begun imagining what it would be like with him. Also, not instead. I want you in my life, I want you loving me, I want you to be my boyfriend now and forever, and more if that’s what comes with our future. But I…honestly, I want Suguru there too.”

Choso looks perplexed for a moment, eyes flitting between yours as he once again absorbs all of your words. “...you want him…too?”

Your next nod is earnest yet careful. “Yes. I know it’s ridiculous, selfish, and impossible, but I love and cherish you so much…and I want Suguru. I could never be without you, Chos’, and I sure as hell could never ever replace you with him. I don’t even know if Suguru and I are actually compatible and would go anywhere. Please, believe me.”

He draws in a slow breath, eyes never leaving yours.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that you have to deal with this, and with me,” You add, “And I understand if you want me gone, I know even thinking that is horrible, and I am the worst person on Earth for hurting you.”

“I don’t want you gone,” He immediately says, surprising you thoroughly.

“What? But I’m…I’m pretty sure all of this qualifies me as some sort of heartless…whore.”

He furrows his eyebrows, shaking his head vehemently. “You are not a whore. Do you go out every time I’m gone and sleep with random men you meet? Do you message more online? Do you send them pictures?”

“N-no, of course not.”

“You’re not a whore,” He says again, sighing heavily. “It’s…this is Suguru we’re talking about. Just Suguru. And this has gone on since we met him, for what…the better half of a year now? More than that? You haven’t even kissed him, let alone slept with him. You just…you just have a lot of affection to give.”

You look down at your lap. “It’s probably just physical, anyway…”

“You said you told him you wanted more, though, after he said that’s what he wants,” Choso points out. “Don’t sugarcoat it for me.”

“No, I-I mean, I’ve barely been around him. Who’s to say it isn’t just lust?” You feel like you’re backtracking, but also like maybe you’re telling the truth. You don’t know anymore. “Maybe I was just caught up in it all when he said it. We could end up not liking each other at all if we really got to know each other…”

After you trail off, no words fill the space between you two for another few moments.

“So,” he exhales, “You want him…too. In what sense?”

“Well,” You begin unsurely. “I…don’t know.”

“Do you think if you slept with him, your curiosity would go away?”

There’s a seriousness that hangs in the air, one that you can’t help but feel is unwelcome.

“What?”

“I just…don’t see another solution to this. Because I love the band, and Suguru made it clear he wants me to stay. That means that at some point, you two are going to have to be around each other. If you…end up alone, it could mean you two just give in, and none of us want that. Suguru doesn’t want to go behind my back, you don’t want to cheat on me, and I don’t want either of you to betray me.”

“But I still don’t see how the correct solution is for me to sleep with him,” You reply rather bluntly, bewildered.

“Because then I’d know about it,” Choso explains. “I mean, listen…I don’t like the idea of the woman I love sleeping with another man, but this isn’t just some guy, it’s Suguru. I know he’s a good man. I know he respects me. So if I…allowed you to…see what he’s all about, then no one would be lying to anyone. There would be no problem.”

Your eyes narrow. Is your boyfriend seriously suggesting you sleep with Suguru?

“But…what about your feelings? I’d still be…getting intimate with another man. Wouldn’t that bother you?” You question him, running a hand through your hair.

“It’s not bothering me as much as it should,” He admits, “Because…all this time, all those moments, and neither of you said ‘forget about him’ and did it behind my back. Yes, you two have gotten close, but you’ve stopped yourselves. So…I know you both care about me. It sounds so strange coming from me, but…I’d let you do it, love.”

All you can do is draw in a deep breath. What is he even saying?

He’s seriously giving you the go-ahead? To sleep with Suguru?

“All I ask is…for you to agree to a few things,” Choso adds, “You’d use protection…and…don’t kiss him.”

Don’t kiss him.

A flash of Suguru’s lip rings comes to mind like the shutter of a camera, and you steel yourself. No kissing him. Something you’d fantasized about for the longest time…barred.

But he’s letting you sleep with Suguru.

So what if you can’t kiss him?

“Okay,” You nod, then you hear yourself, and you shake your head, “W-wait, no, Choso, I can’t do this to you. You can’t be okay with this!”

“But I am,” He insists, reaching up and touching your face. There is only a gentleness in his eyes, no hint of anger or animosity towards you in them. “I love you, and I want to give you the world. If I can give you this by simply allowing you, I will.”

“But it’s sex,” You argue, “For crying out loud, Choso, how can you be okay with this? I’d never be okay if you wanted to sleep with another woman!”

“That’s okay,” He assures you, “It is sex, and to the two of us it means something different. For me, it’s exclusive. For you, it's an expression. I don’t like sleeping with anyone I’m not in love with, but for you, it’s more about who you find attractive. I trust you. I know you’ll never leave me, you’ve made that clear. If, throughout this entire thing, you’ve fantasized about Suguru yet never resented me or started finding faults in me, wishing I was him…I know you love me.”

“I do,” is what you reply with immediately. “I love you so much, Chos’.”

“See? I trust you,” He repeats. “If you wanted to cheat you’d have done so by now.”

For a while, you just remain silent.

Is he really giving you a pass? To have sex with Suguru? Just like that?

“Will you look at me differently? And him?” You ask, searching his eyes with yours.

“You’re always going to be the woman I love,” Choso shakes his head. “And he’s always going to be Suguru.”

“What about when we’re all together? When you’re in the same room as me and him? Will you be able to take it?”

Choso consider your words for a moment before nodding. “Yes. I will. Things will probably be less tense now that it’s out in the open, don’t you think?”

“…well, possibly, yes.”

There is about a full minute of absolutely no sound in the room. You don’t know what to say. You weren’t expecting a full fight, because you know that’s not what Choso is about, but you sure as hell weren’t expecting this either. How are you supposed to react?

Choso has given you his permission to sleep with Suguru. You can actually do what you’ve been wanting to do–well, mostly–and more than anything, right now you’re just feeling…weird.

“Chos’, I…I don’t know what to say…”

He shakes his head. “You don’t have to. We’ve talked it over and said everything we need to say.”

Well, he’s right. You’ve asked about his feelings, about his reaction, he knows the dirty details of your thoughts…and this is the end result. The boyfriend you have been in love with since before this entire mess has started still loves you even after everything you’ve considered doing, and everything you’ve done, and what’s more is that he is green-lighting even more that you never thought he’d be okay with.

Your eyes happen upon him, and you really take him in. The way his layered hair falls in messy strands around his face, the soft droop of his chocolate eyes, smeared with his trademark purple eyeliner. You follow the shape of his jaw, the curve of his Adam’s apple down to his neck, further to the collar of his shirt, where you remember he has that tattoo of your name on his heart. More than ever now, you understand that he’d gotten that done with utmost sincerity. So much emotion sweeps over you in a tidal wave–you love your boyfriend so much, and you’re sorry he’s even in this position, whether he’s okay with it or not.

There isn’t much time between after you’ve had that thought and when you climb into his lap, kissing him in a way that you hope conveys everything you’re feeling for him at the moment.

Choso responds eagerly, and soon layers come off, the black ink of your name etched into his breast on full display. It’s a lot of touching and grinding–you try to knead your affection into him with your hands and the way you move your hips on his, feeling him getting hard beneath you, your lips reaching any expanse of skin of his that they can reach.

You kiss down his frame, paying special attention to the delicate part of his neck where it meets his shoulder and leaving a mark there. It’s easy to elicit noises from him, soft and breathy in nature, and you keep going, leaving a path of claims as you devour his body slowly.

Soon, you wind up between his legs, face beside his stiff length, but before you pay it any mind, you give attention to his thighs, a place you know is particularly sensitive. That’s when the sounds leaving his lips become more pronounced, abdomen rising and falling with each new mark you bite into the flesh there.

By the time you take him into your mouth, his cock is maroon-hard and weeping, the bitterness mixing with the flavor of his musk. The both of you moan at the same time, and his hands thread into your hair, gently holding it back as you suck, rising and sinking down on him over and over in the way you know drives him mad. His noises string together, strained groans and soft whimpers mixing to create a beautiful enough symphony that even that itself is music he creates. His thumbs caress your cheeks and you feel his eyes admiring you as you suck him off, a rosy blush spreading over your face.

When he’s good and soaked, and when he’s near his peak, twitching on your tongue with the threat of release, you pull off, looking up at him.

His eyebrows are drawn up, hair messily splayed across his pillow from his writhing, a crimson over the bridge of his nose. He’s panting, chest rising and falling rigidly, deep exhales painting the air.

“You’re so beautiful,” You tell him breathlessly, climbing back up his now mark-ridden body, straddling his hips with your legs. You take him into your hand and guide him towards your heat, allowing it inside as you seat yourself down.

“Oh, fuck,” He grunts, hands finding your waist instinctively. You can feel him throbbing inside of you, having been edged already, and you know it won’t take him long to reach his peak.

He knows this, and so when you start rolling your hips, keeping him fully inside, he begins roaming his palms over your skin, doing his best to bring you to the edge as well. The two of you move in a way that can only be disguised as a sensual, intimate dance. His hands find your breasts, teasing your nipples with the pads of his thumbs, then running a palm down your front until he finds your clit. He starts rubbing it to the tempo of your movements, and little gasps leave your mouth, spurring on more impassioned grinds from you.

You look down at him, staring up at you with reverent, lidded eyes, and you know that no matter what you do with Suguru, it can never replace what you have with Choso.

“I love you,” You murmur, leaning down and initiating a hungry kiss.

He returns it with fervor, speaking into your wet cavern with a reciprocal, “I love you,” before chasing it down with his tongue. He starts meeting your movements with his own, intensity increasing until soon he’s moaning down your throat and cumming deep inside, your own orgasm rippling through you at the same time.

He holds you close and you don’t stop showering him with your love, intent on making sure he knows how much he means to you.

What comes next can wait until tomorrow.

a/n: you get to have your cake and eat it too in this universe, mmm hmm, mm hmm. now...what will happen next?

Please don't copy or repost, but feel free to reblog and share!

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mdhwrites · 9 months ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/everysongineverykey/709979889023008768/the-owl-house-was-really-like-oh-yeah-by-the-way-a?source=share

Thoughts on this post?

So my immediate thoughts were two things: One was that I always feel awkward responding to other posts because I try not to shit stir most of the time. Two though was that I just agreed with it. The reality of the Hexside kids is purely played for laughs despite being horribly traumatizing on pretty much every level. That's just true.

Then I saw the tag saying it wasn't a criticism.

So was it okay for Hexside to be treated like this? Wartwood had a similar rebellion and it had its own silly things like a themed food Friday and people still being their quirky selves. It works there however because while dealing with what life throws at you is a theme of the work, trauma specifically isn't really. It's there, I've talked about how smart Amphibia is with it to keep its tone consistent but that subtlety also makes it so that not dwelling on it is fine.

If I were to give TOH S3 a theme of some sort... It WOULD be trauma. I don't think it does this theme well, at all, but it is a consistent motif. Hunter's trauma about Belos, Luz's trauma about... Fucking everything if I'm frank but her core trauma is resolved at least once in each episode, technically twice in the finale. They graft on trauma out of nowhere for Willow. She's never dependable Willow, soft spoken and never complaining at all times, but now she is so she has some sort of trauma to deal with while also dealing with Hunter's new trauma of losing Flapjack. One could even argue that Belos has it running throughout because his desperation is potentially fueled by trauma of losing his brother and having his world shatter around him by his brother betraying what ostensibly would have been both of theirs core beliefs. You even have the Collector going through his shit with having been trapped alone for so long.

And then you have Hexside where no one cares about how traumatic all of this has been... Except Boscha. And Boscha is played subtlely, much closer to Amphibia, rather than the capital t TRAUMA that the rest of the cast is going through. As such, most people who watched didn't give a shit and just saw it as a half baked redemption arc rather than continuing a theme because yeah, why would you? What does she even have to say about trauma? That you'll get kicked even harder while you're down and the only option is to move on by yourself and just pretend like it didn't happen?

And that's honestly a problem with the theme in general. So much of the answer to "How do I deal with this," for TOH is to go "I'm awesome and amazing and fuck you for ever thinking otherwise!" It's the conclusion for Hunter's trauma with Belos, we don't get a conclusion with Flapjack really, it's the statement that Luz makes for her character finish of just how much she wants the entire world to recognize she's a bombass nerd -_-, and it's even how the series wraps up with only Luz getting the Titan's power and only her, while she quotes her favorite books, actually attacking Belos. This is your reminder that all the co-op attacks with King and Eda were done far away from Belos, fighting random slime for literally no reason besides the fact that both Luz and the show got lost for about a minute. Willow is the only one where compassion for needing to actually, you know, process your pain and be supported and helped with it might be the answer but again, it's not a core trauma to the character. It's a clumsily grafted on element that also has Willow force Hunter to confront his trauma with Flapjack which IS the answer for him so it's also contradictory. It's not given nearly the same weight as the stuff with Hunter and Belos or ALL OF LUZ where their answers are just 'deal with it'.

(Bonus points to Luz's core problem theoretically being that she was WRONG about Philip and at least two of the endings to that trauma, with her friends and with the Titan, are her being told "You're wrong for worrying," like that would help at all.)

So then you have Hexside where their trauma is ignore and played for laughs so you can just do normal fantasy rebellion stuff mixed with teen rebellion stuff. It's not bad when measured that way but it's contradictory to many of the points that the whole abridged season is trying to make. It's an element that conflicts with your core theme. It's akin to how we're supposed to take Hunter leaving the EC seriously and as this grand pain of his... And then also have people mocking Lilith for it and even having her go "I'm realizing I was bad at my job" back in S2 because fuck her and her trauma I guess.

And don't tell me it's because it's a kid's show. Boscha could have easily been the surrogate for all of Hexside and then you kick out Miki and just have Boscha to deal with. Focus the episode around getting her to open up, be defenseless, maybe almost get turned into a puppet for it as it seems her fears were justified... Before she looks up to find she's behind one of Matt's pillars and everyone is coming out to help protect Boscha. Because the only reason they've gotten through this is together and while they're happy Boscha has actually helped them despite her pain, she shouldn't be dealing with this alone. All of them will do better if they share this pain and so we get them kicking the ass of one of the Collector's hunter stars and the plan be to ride it up to the Archive for the main crew before they get snatched off of it. It has more to say about the complexities of trauma and how you can't just power through it, allows an acknowledgement of what this world has done to these people, all while still allowing the rest of Hexside besides Boscha to be silly and upbeat because they've been doing what they need to handle all of this.

So yeah, I think the blog itself is correct. I think calling itself not criticism though means ignoring what all of these conflicting elements mean for the season overall. Yeah, it's a cute segment as is but when you have a show like TOH that is trying SO HARD to say something... Shouldn't we be critical of when it's failing to do that or even muffling it's own voice?

Because the hex on this side of the Isles could have been used to do something more but instead was treated like a cute charm to fill time. That's not okay. See you next tale.

======+++++======

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

#the owl house criticism #toh critical #toh #the owl house

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lesmisletters-daily · 3 months ago

Text

A Place Where Convictions Are In Process Of Formation

Les Mis Letters reading club explores one chapter of Les Misérables every day. Join us on Discord, Substack - or share your thoughts right here on tumblr - today's tag is #lm 1.7.9

He advanced a pace, closed the door mechanically behind him, and remained standing, contemplating what he saw.

It was a vast and badly lighted apartment, now full of uproar, now full of silence, where all the apparatus of a criminal case, with its petty and mournful gravity in the midst of the throng, was in process of development.

At the one end of the hall, the one where he was, were judges, with abstracted air, in threadbare robes, who were gnawing their nails or closing their eyelids; at the other end, a ragged crowd; lawyers in all sorts of attitudes; soldiers with hard but honest faces; ancient, spotted woodwork, a dirty ceiling, tables covered with serge that was yellow rather than green; doors blackened by handmarks; tap-room lamps which emitted more smoke than light, suspended from nails in the wainscot; on the tables candles in brass candlesticks; darkness, ugliness, sadness; and from all this there was disengaged an austere and august impression, for one there felt that grand human thing which is called the law, and that grand divine thing which is called justice.

No one in all that throng paid any attention to him; all glances were directed towards a single point, a wooden bench placed against a small door, in the stretch of wall on the President’s left; on this bench, illuminated by several candles, sat a man between two gendarmes.

This man was the man.

He did not seek him; he saw him; his eyes went thither naturally, as though they had known beforehand where that figure was.

He thought he was looking at himself, grown old; not absolutely the same in face, of course, but exactly similar in attitude and aspect, with his bristling hair, with that wild and uneasy eye, with that blouse, just as it was on the day when he entered D——, full of hatred, concealing his soul in that hideous mass of frightful thoughts which he had spent nineteen years in collecting on the floor of the prison.

He said to himself with a shudder, “Good God! shall I become like that again?”

This creature seemed to be at least sixty; there was something indescribably coarse, stupid, and frightened about him.

At the sound made by the opening door, people had drawn aside to make way for him; the President had turned his head, and, understanding that the personage who had just entered was the mayor of M. sur M., he had bowed to him; the attorney-general, who had seen M. Madeleine at M. sur M., whither the duties of his office had called him more than once, recognized him and saluted him also: he had hardly perceived it; he was the victim of a sort of hallucination; he was watching.

Judges, clerks, gendarmes, a throng of cruelly curious heads, all these he had already beheld once, in days gone by, twenty-seven years before; he had encountered those fatal things once more; there they were; they moved; they existed; it was no longer an effort of his memory, a mirage of his thought; they were real gendarmes and real judges, a real crowd, and real men of flesh and blood: it was all over; he beheld the monstrous aspects of his past reappear and live once more around him, with all that there is formidable in reality.

All this was yawning before him.

He was horrified by it; he shut his eyes, and exclaimed in the deepest recesses of his soul, “Never!”

And by a tragic play of destiny which made all his ideas tremble, and rendered him nearly mad, it was another self of his that was there! all called that man who was being tried Jean Valjean.

Under his very eyes, unheard-of vision, he had a sort of representation of the most horrible moment of his life, enacted by his spectre.

Everything was there; the apparatus was the same, the hour of the night, the faces of the judges, of soldiers, and of spectators; all were the same, only above the President’s head there hung a crucifix, something which the courts had lacked at the time of his condemnation: God had been absent when he had been judged.

There was a chair behind him; he dropped into it, terrified at the thought that he might be seen; when he was seated, he took advantage of a pile of cardboard boxes, which stood on the judge’s desk, to conceal his face from the whole room; he could now see without being seen; he had fully regained consciousness of the reality of things; gradually he recovered; he attained that phase of composure where it is possible to listen.

M. Bamatabois was one of the jurors.

He looked for Javert, but did not see him; the seat of the witnesses was hidden from him by the clerk’s table, and then, as we have just said, the hall was sparely lighted.

At the moment of this entrance, the defendant’s lawyer had just finished his plea.

The attention of all was excited to the highest pitch; the affair had lasted for three hours: for three hours that crowd had been watching a strange man, a miserable specimen of humanity, either profoundly stupid or profoundly subtle, gradually bending beneath the weight of a terrible likeness. This man, as the reader already knows, was a vagabond who had been found in a field carrying a branch laden with ripe apples, broken in the orchard of a neighbor, called the Pierron orchard. Who was this man? an examination had been made; witnesses had been heard, and they were unanimous; light had abounded throughout the entire debate; the accusation said: “We have in our grasp not only a marauder, a stealer of fruit; we have here, in our hands, a bandit, an old offender who has broken his ban, an ex-convict, a miscreant of the most dangerous description, a malefactor named Jean Valjean, whom justice has long been in search of, and who, eight years ago, on emerging from the galleys at Toulon, committed a highway robbery, accompanied by violence, on the person of a child, a Savoyard named Little Gervais; a crime provided for by article 383 of the Penal Code, the right to try him for which we reserve hereafter, when his identity shall have been judicially established. He has just committed a fresh theft; it is a case of a second offence; condemn him for the fresh deed; later on he will be judged for the old crime.” In the face of this accusation, in the face of the unanimity of the witnesses, the accused appeared to be astonished more than anything else; he made signs and gestures which were meant to convey No, or else he stared at the ceiling: he spoke with difficulty, replied with embarrassment, but his whole person, from head to foot, was a denial; he was an idiot in the presence of all these minds ranged in order of battle around him, and like a stranger in the midst of this society which was seizing fast upon him; nevertheless, it was a question of the most menacing future for him; the likeness increased every moment, and the entire crowd surveyed, with more anxiety than he did himself, that sentence freighted with calamity, which descended ever closer over his head; there was even a glimpse of a possibility afforded; besides the galleys, a possible death penalty, in case his identity were established, and the affair of Little Gervais were to end thereafter in condemnation. Who was this man? what was the nature of his apathy? was it imbecility or craft? Did he understand too well, or did he not understand at all? these were questions which divided the crowd, and seemed to divide the jury; there was something both terrible and puzzling in this case: the drama was not only melancholy; it was also obscure.

The counsel for the defence had spoken tolerably well, in that provincial tongue which has long constituted the eloquence of the bar, and which was formerly employed by all advocates, at Paris as well as at Romorantin or at Montbrison, and which to-day, having become classic, is no longer spoken except by the official orators of magistracy, to whom it is suited on account of its grave sonorousness and its majestic stride; a tongue in which a husband is called a consort, and a woman a spouse; Paris, the centre of art and civilization; the king, the monarch; Monseigneur the Bishop, a sainted pontiff; the district-attorney, the eloquent interpreter of public prosecution; the arguments, the accents which we have just listened to; the age of Louis XIV., the grand age; a theatre, the temple of Melpomene; the reigning family, the august blood of our kings; a concert, a musical solemnity; the General Commandant of the province, the illustrious warrior, who, etc.; the pupils in the seminary, these tender levities; errors imputed to newspapers, the imposture which distills its venom through the columns of those organs; etc. The lawyer had, accordingly, begun with an explanation as to the theft of the apples,—an awkward matter couched in fine style; but Bénigne Bossuet himself was obliged to allude to a chicken in the midst of a funeral oration, and he extricated himself from the situation in stately fashion. The lawyer established the fact that the theft of the apples had not been circumstantially proved. His client, whom he, in his character of counsel, persisted in calling Champmathieu, had not been seen scaling that wall nor breaking that branch by any one. He had been taken with that branch (which the lawyer preferred to call a bough) in his possession; but he said that he had found it broken off and lying on the ground, and had picked it up. Where was there any proof to the contrary? No doubt that branch had been broken off and concealed after the scaling of the wall, then thrown away by the alarmed marauder; there was no doubt that there had been a thief in the case.

But what proof was there that that thief had been Champmathieu? One thing only. His character as an ex-convict. The lawyer did not deny that that character appeared to be, unhappily, well attested; the accused had resided at Faverolles; the accused had exercised the calling of a tree-pruner there; the name of Champmathieu might well have had its origin in Jean Mathieu; all that was true,—in short, four witnesses recognize Champmathieu, positively and without hesitation, as that convict, Jean Valjean; to these signs, to this testimony, the counsel could oppose nothing but the denial of his client, the denial of an interested party; but supposing that he was the convict Jean Valjean, did that prove that he was the thief of the apples? that was a presumption at the most, not a proof. The prisoner, it was true, and his counsel, “in good faith,” was obliged to admit it, had adopted “a bad system of defence.” He obstinately denied everything, the theft and his character of convict. An admission upon this last point would certainly have been better, and would have won for him the indulgence of his judges; the counsel had advised him to do this; but the accused had obstinately refused, thinking, no doubt, that he would save everything by admitting nothing. It was an error; but ought not the paucity of this intelligence to be taken into consideration? This man was visibly stupid. Long-continued wretchedness in the galleys, long misery outside the galleys, had brutalized him, etc. He defended himself badly; was that a reason for condemning him? As for the affair with Little Gervais, the counsel need not discuss it; it did not enter into the case. The lawyer wound up by beseeching the jury and the court, if the identity of Jean Valjean appeared to them to be evident, to apply to him the police penalties which are provided for a criminal who has broken his ban, and not the frightful chastisement which descends upon the convict guilty of a second offence.

The district-attorney answered the counsel for the defence. He was violent and florid, as district-attorneys usually are.

He congratulated the counsel for the defence on his “loyalty,” and skilfully took advantage of this loyalty. He reached the accused through all the concessions made by his lawyer. The advocate had seemed to admit that the prisoner was Jean Valjean. He took note of this. So this man was Jean Valjean. This point had been conceded to the accusation and could no longer be disputed. Here, by means of a clever autonomasia which went back to the sources and causes of crime, the district-attorney thundered against the immorality of the romantic school, then dawning under the name of the Satanic school, which had been bestowed upon it by the critics of the Quotidienne and the Oriflamme; he attributed, not without some probability, to the influence of this perverse literature the crime of Champmathieu, or rather, to speak more correctly, of Jean Valjean. Having exhausted these considerations, he passed on to Jean Valjean himself. Who was this Jean Valjean? Description of Jean Valjean: a monster spewed forth, etc. The model for this sort of description is contained in the tale of Théramène, which is not useful to tragedy, but which every day renders great services to judicial eloquence. The audience and the jury “shuddered.” The description finished, the district-attorney resumed with an oratorical turn calculated to raise the enthusiasm of the journal of the prefecture to the highest pitch on the following day: And it is such a man, etc., etc., etc., vagabond, beggar, without means of existence, etc., etc., inured by his past life to culpable deeds, and but little reformed by his sojourn in the galleys, as was proved by the crime committed against Little Gervais, etc., etc.; it is such a man, caught upon the highway in the very act of theft, a few paces from a wall that had been scaled, still holding in his hand the object stolen, who denies the crime, the theft, the climbing the wall; denies everything; denies even his own identity! In addition to a hundred other proofs, to which we will not recur, four witnesses recognize him—Javert, the upright inspector of police; Javert, and three of his former companions in infamy, the convicts Brevet, Chenildieu, and Cochepaille. What does he offer in opposition to this overwhelming unanimity? His denial. What obduracy! You will do justice, gentlemen of the jury, etc., etc. While the district-attorney was speaking, the accused listened to him open-mouthed, with a sort of amazement in which some admiration was assuredly blended. He was evidently surprised that a man could talk like that. From time to time, at those “energetic” moments of the prosecutor’s speech, when eloquence which cannot contain itself overflows in a flood of withering epithets and envelops the accused like a storm, he moved his head slowly from right to left and from left to right in the sort of mute and melancholy protest with which he had contented himself since the beginning of the argument. Two or three times the spectators who were nearest to him heard him say in a low voice, “That is what comes of not having asked M. Baloup.” The district-attorney directed the attention of the jury to this stupid attitude, evidently deliberate, which denoted not imbecility, but craft, skill, a habit of deceiving justice, and which set forth in all its nakedness the “profound perversity” of this man. He ended by making his reserves on the affair of Little Gervais and demanding a severe sentence.

At that time, as the reader will remember, it was penal servitude for life.

The counsel for the defence rose, began by complimenting Monsieur l’Avocat-General on his “admirable speech,” then replied as best he could; but he weakened; the ground was evidently slipping away from under his feet.

#lm 1.7.9

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babiebom · 2 years ago

Text

When You Fall (vii)

A/N: sorry for not updating this in a while it’s hard for me to get the inspiration to put my thoughts on the page y’know? It’s like whatever I write won’t be as good as it is in my head. At this point this is like a once a month upload and I feel like that’s too slow :(

Tw:talks of depression, talks of medications, guilt. Lmk if there’s more I should tag

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Finally home again, you tense up as soon as you shut the door behind you. It was different, depression when you’re surrounded by distractions and depression when you’re alone. The creaking of the house filled you with loneliness. When you were little it was always your grandparents inside, the house warm and smelling of food and baked goods. Then it was just your grandfather, the house still warm but no longer smelling good. Now it’s just you, with a house that was only warm because it was springtime and the sun was warming everything it touched.

Tears start to prick your eyes and you wonder when your medication would be making its appearance. It was only recently that your emotions started to overwhelm you, the reason clear as day and you hated the fact that you couldn’t bounce back like you usually did. It wasn’t the first time someone in your family had died, nor will it be the last but it wasn’t like when your grandmother died when you were young, you were able to get over it then, this time you weren’t able to process and get over it at all. Processing hadn’t even started, it’s just been an immediate descent into an endless black hole.

Guilt almost overcomes you as doubts start making their way into your mind. You wanted to believe Harvey would never prescribe you anything horrible, you wanted to believe that things were going to get better once you had your medicine, but it was hard to not hear things about taking meds for mental health; all the side effects and body changes that people go through. The chance that the medicine can make things worse, the chance that the medicine can make you feel nothing at all. It was scary, and something that you hadn’t experienced up until this point. Harvey was great with prescribing you the meds, but in the back of your mind the want to flush them as soon as you get them tries to get your attention and make itself seem like a good idea.

Well, at least you can work on your farm or something while you have time. You rested all day yesterday, today can be dedicated to bettering your land. Putting on your work clothes, you move to open the door. Honestly maybe you should start looking out the window or a peep hole or something because having to stifle a scream when you see Marnie’s face is embarrassing.

“Marnie!” You try to act like she didn’t just jumpscare you into next year. “It’s nice to see you this morning!” You had only met the woman once like a week ago, and seeing her on your doorstep was kind of weird. Behind her was a huge fluffy dog who was wagging its tail, staring up at you with the sweetest eyes you’ve ever seen; and in her arms an orange cat who seemed all too happy to be getting pets and being held.

“Hello Y/N! You see these animals here? I found them sitting together outside the entrance to your farm! I think they might be strays…poor little things.”

You nod and stare at her, what was the point of all this? If she thought they were strays why is she here talking about them? It has to be obvious out of everyone in the town you’d know the least about who owns them. Though, they were extremely cute…

The dog plops down on the front porch, it’s tail still wagging as it stares up at you. Now that you think about it, there’s an old dog house somewhere in the property, your grandfather had a dog before, so maybe you could ask if you could keep it, maybe the cat too. It would be better than being alone all day. Marnie waits a beat before speaking again, staring at the dog fondly.

“I think they like this place! Hey, um…don’t you think this farm could use some animals?”

Like your prayers were answered you smile at her, “yeah, sure. I can keep them! Farm is big and empty anyways…”

She hands the orange cat to you and steps back. “Do you have a name for either of them?” You nod immediately, knowing exactly what you wanted to name them it was so easy.

“Mango and Shadow.” You say with confidence. The cat was orange, and fruit themed names were always cute, and the dog, while brown, already seemed as if it was going to follow you around all day like a fluffy shadow anyways.

“Well, you both be good, now…okay?” Marnie seemed a little sad as if she wanted to keep them, she probably had no room for them with all of her animals. She leaves down the path back towards her own place.

Excitedly, you hurry and set the cat down grabbing your watering can and other farming supplies. Now that you had company, doing work and being home wasn’t so daunting. Shadow immediately follows after you, her tail wagging so quickly you could feel the air from it. Mango watched from the porch, lying on the stairs. They were both going to be inside with you, that’s for sure, but now you needed to fix the dog house, and buy animal supplies. Your new fur babies needed to immediately be spoiled (and cleaned), and you had absolutely nothing prepared for them.

Life has to get better from now on, right? Now you have two pets to take care of…now you have reasons to want to get better. Hopefully it makes the path to recovery easier.

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loganremade · 7 months ago

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hi, it’s been three days since i decided to take a break. to say i miss this place is an understatement, after all this is the community where i feel the safest and happiest. i’ve been thinking a lot, and maybe this isn’t the time to say everything i want to say, and god knows i can misspeak and say the wrong things, but i keep thinking and thinking and thinking and i have to let this out or else i’ll spiral.

it’s no secret i didn’t like liam’s actions in the past couple of months, with everything coming to a head when maya opened up about her troubled relationship with him. i was very angry and upset, and though i still believe the criticism was valid, i said things i shouldn’t have. i placed myself in a position of morality, of being better than others, because i criticized liam. in the process i ended up hurting people. these are things i will always regret. i’m so deeply sorry to those i hurt with my words. i wish i could take them back, but i can’t, so i will live with the consequences of them.

i want to make it 100% clear, i never, ever wished for things to end the way they did. i’ve always believed in accountability and working toward becoming a better person, and i will always believe it’s possible to do so. in my mind, i couldn’t support liam anymore, but i hoped he would seek help, heal and become the best version of himself. knowing that will never happen hurts beyond belief.

my biggest regret is being too antagonistic toward him. to not have given him more grace as he struggled with addiction. i know firsthand how addiction can destroy even the kindest, most wonderful people. i was blinded by so much anger that i couldn’t see beyond it. i’m by no means justifying his actions, and i still believe that holding him accountable was the right thing to do, because it came from a place of wanting him to become better, but now, maybe too late, i realize situations like these aren’t always black or white.

yesterday, i was scrolling through my liam tag. back then i used nicknames for each of the guys. louis was solecito, harry was lunita, zayn was principito, niall was amorcito, and liam, he was coranzoncito, little heart. i never got around to change it, so some of the posts i reblogged about liam were still tagged as corazoncito. seeing it made me break down again. a reminder of the love i once held for him. the one i forgot. he was my little heart.

navigating all of these complicated feelings of grief has been hard. i felt like i didn’t have any right to mourn him. hell, i’ve had anons telling me i was a horrible person for mourning an abuser, and at the same time a hypocrite for even daring to mourn him, seeing as i didn’t like him anymore. but fuck it, fuck it all, all these feelings i have are real. i won’t and can’t let anyone dictate how i feel, and i feel a profound sadness and pain over his death. i will mourn him. i will let myself feel all of it. the sadness, the pain, the anger, the confusion, all of it.

liam, you weren’t perfect, but none of us are. i want to remember you for everything you were, the good and the bad. i want to remember you not as liam payne™, but as liam, the human. the one that made mistakes but also brought so much joy. the one who hurt people but also brought comfort to people. the one who touched the hearts and souls of many people. i wish things had ended differently. i wish you had a chance to heal. i hope wherever you are you’ve found peace.

please take care of and be gentle toward each other, i love you guys.

#logan.txt

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muniimyg · 10 months ago

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just read the tags on your last ask and caught something interesting 😭

how does your therapist feel about your fanfics only if you are comfortable sharing that or you can ignore this ask!

Asking cause I used to write fanfics when I was like 15-19 years and I’m not that old (I’m 23 now😭🔫) yet but yeah have lost touch with my that side and considered telling my therapist about this..

anyway thank you and I love your fics!!

tw: anxiety & depression

she hasn’t read them or anything LOL but we jus talked abt how i use writing fanfics to help me process what i’m going thru as well as mapping out different perspectives… we’ve never discussed it in detail but she thinks it’s a healthy hobby for me. to be fair, she knows i’m delusional and aspire to marry yoongi so 😀

anyways..

because of the relationships i’ve grown up around,, i struggled a lot with communicating and dependency. also think that because of my anxiety and depression,, i’ve always found art in different mediums to be a great way to express and cope with the trauma or triggers i have. writing, as cliché as it sounds, has always been the greatest form of escape for me. it’s ironic cos as much as i use it to escape, i’ve also never been more found when i write 😍🤞🏽

also,, i’ve been writing fanfics for a while (but i only got decent at it now) since i was 12 actually…

on quotev,,, harry styles ofc…

then on wattpad for 5sos… i wrote a fanfic called 50 reasons why i won’t go out with you and my username was like cth-bluez or smt LOL

i stopped writing from 2016-2021 and then picked it up again when i got into bts and it was covid times! (my writing was HORRIBLE btw…) so its been 4ish years back in it and it’s been……. funny

we’re the same age btw! so we’ve lived the same amount of years and therefore i don’t have much to say about it.. except for the fact that i understand and see you. regardless if it’s burnout or not having enough time; writing is hard. getting back into it is hard !!! so to me,, to even think about writing again,,, is enough and i can’t wait for whatever stories you have to share with the world 🌟

not to be all sentimental but HAHAA i think my writing speaks for itself in terms of passion and growth. i’ve stressed abt updates, i’ve hated my own characters, i’ve had sleepless nights for writing concepts that got like 13 notes … i’ve had seasons of silence where it felt like i was jus writing to an empty crowd (which i truly was),,, but things change and before you know it you have strangers asking you about your writing journey 😹 don’t get me wrong,, there are definitely things that i’ve posted and absolutely hate atm,, and there are things that i think are my pride and joy… but that’s jus what it is. writing and its complexity of being everything and nothing to you all at once 🫶🏻

i think you should tell your therapist abt it! sometimes it’s nice to speak about the things we love(d) and lost in the past. you never know.. maybe it’s time to begin again :) yk what they sayyyyyyy

do it scared, do it tired, do it broke, do it alone, do it unsure, but do it anyway and then do it again

#ask muni #💌: anon #🌷: kimi update #🤍: fave ask #but also if u dont wanna write no need to write ya feel #they say write abt smt u hate or love #but never write abt anything in between #love ya #hope to read ur work soon :p

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batsyforyou · 1 year ago

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Telling John Sheppard You Want a Baby

Tags: Baby, getting shot at, gate travel

Author's Note: I hope y'all enjoy cause I did!

“I want a baby.”

He paused and looked at you. Shit “You do?”

At first asks if you want a baby-baby or dog-baby?

Sheppard kinda wants out, is half terrified and the other half scared shitless.

But after you have your discussion he’ll eventually come around to the idea.

Meaning it takes him several weeks, maybe a month or two

“Really?” “I mean, yea sure, if you want.”

And once he does agree he later realizes that when you do get pregnant you will have to be sent to Earth, in fact he is the first to ship you out the gate

Not only because Atlantis is getting attacked once a week but he is deathly afraid that McKay will somehow unleash a new plague onto the populace of Atlantis

And in the Quarantine episode the thought of his wife with his unborn child in possible danger while he is stuck in a room sets him into protect mode and the chair flying out the window much faster.

Though once he figures out that there isn’t an outbreak or that no one is attacking them he calms some

If this doesn’t get your butt booted to Earth I don’t know what will

At first he just thinks he’ll wing it, like how hard can it be?

But then he talks to Telya and gains a whole new set of fears and concerns

So he buys a parenting book and has it shipped to Atlantis and takes notes from Telya when he can

He desperately wants you safe but feels horribly guilty at the relieved feeling he gets when you aren’t on base anymore

He thinks the feeling is from him not having to help you with the pregnancy (but in reality it's just that he knows your safe back on Earth and far from any danger)

Therefore he immediately feels like a horrible partner and tries his best to send you letters and transmissions so he can be there with you through the screen

So he can be as supportive as possible

He even asks General O’Neill to check up on you every now and then

He is worried sick about you though and can’t sleep at night over it, there isn’t a moment he isn’t thinking about you

Some part of him is worried that he is missing out though

And when you send him pictures of the bump as your belly grows he becomes equal parts excited and terrified (Again)

Though he wouldn’t change it for the world knowing that he has a family back there waiting for him

The thought alone means everything to him

He doesn’t want to be like his dad

Maybe that’s why he’s so scared cuz he didn’t have a good role model.

When you go into labor he is probably in the middle of getting shot at so when he comes back to base and hears from Elizabeth that you’d given birth he feels like he’d faint on the spot.

When the thought processes in his brain though he first asks if you were alright and if you made it and then his second thought is

Is it a girl?

He rushes to send in his leave and Elizabeth makes him stay away from Atlantis for at least six months so he can take care of you and enjoy the all the firsts with you as a personal favor to him

When he makes it to the hospital to meet your baby for the first time he is a nervous wreck

He takes slow steps towards you as you hold the baby and first praises you and kisses your head then once he gathers the courage he looks down at his baby for the first time and his heart melts

Its a girl

He doesn’t take her from you but he lets her grab his finger and he wouldn’t change that moment for anything

Though the next moment was pretty nuts

As a nurse comes in with another bundle of joy and you smile up at him and tell him

“We had twins”

*faints*

But he loves all three of his girls with everything he has and Lorne is the proudest uncle ever

Overall Sheppard is a solid 7/10 partner but you could have mentioned the twins sooner btw

Masterlist

#John Sheppard x reader #John Sheppard x fem reader #john sheppard #Stargate #stargate atlantis #sga #Atlantis #tw babies

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z-eel · 2 months ago

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peter and regulus are definitely that couple who has the absolute worst backstory of getting together and is somehow in the healthiest relationship you know. most of it comes down to that black family money paying for EXTENSIVE therapy. honestly i see one of their unhealthiest traits later being that they literally can’t argue without it being such a convoluted process that they both get frustrated and give up on the fight entirely. regulus has a physical coping skills tool kit that they have to consult and peter has to have it in an email to react normally

i also LOVE that he was hooking up with people who remind him of peter. he’s like when we first… broke up… i told sirius i was in love with the idea of you loving me which i still think is true but thinking back on who i was hooking up with… it may just be you i want. not anyone wanting me

and peter who has been finally moving on from sirius and also kind of treating this sore spot from being in an unrequited love for so long is just melting for regulus. he can’t stop thinking about the regulus who would curl up in his arms and pretend to sleep longer so he’d hold him (peter thinks it was regulus basically not allowing himself to be held, regulus thinks it’s that peter didn’t want to hold him, truth is a bit of both) and now he’s confessing to him

i think peter would move about few months into their relationship. they definitely take a while to have sex again and they’re taking everything slow and i can see peter laying in bed after the third time they have sex there and thinking “i’ve got to move as soon as i can actually and i think it’d be better for us”

i also think when he mentions that he’s moving to sirius, sirius is like you and my brother ARENT MOVING TOGETHER and peter has to immediately be like we are nowhere NEAR moving together. just me. into a less emotionally charged apartment

i think regulus’s favorite thing about peter’s new apartment is he doesn’t feel as anxious when he kisses him in the doorway. even just hello kisses would make him antsy on a bad day, but in the new apartment the moment he’s over the threshold he’s kissing peter hello like it’s his favorite thing to do

healthy regupete is now my world. you really can just ship regulus with anyone these days (affectionately to reggie)

-💫🐀

tag this whole fucking relationship with undealt trauma, horrible coping mechanisms, identity porn, good ol miscommunication and i think we'd have a best seller.

i fucking hate those healthy couple that literally never have one bad thing to say to each other, like you know you can't break up now right? you break up and i no longer believe in love, that's healthy regupete for me.

Sirius freaking out at the idea of Peter moving in with Regulus kills me. like i get he's being protective but Sirius doesn't any right to involve his opinion, i would think Regulus and Peter would have seriously talked it out for days ahead if time just to see where they were at mentally.

for the longest time their relationship has always had a thrid person, so when they enter this new stage they almost never let Sirius influence anything they do.

no wait cuz regupete apartment hunting would be cute, like Peter would want Regulus to also join him so that he would approve his final choice because he wants Regulus to also enjoy the place. Regulus and Peter holding hands as they do walk throughs, and Regulus pointing out what he like and making suggestions as where they could put furniture as if they're moving together.

they feel like a real couple, like Regulus can look down and see how Peter's finger entangle with his and how he'll squeeze it every once in a while and this person showing them the apartment see them holding hands and refers to them as a couple and Peter NEVER DENIES IT, in fact he make a effort to constantly bring it up. yeah my boyfriend and i.... Reggie baby what do think... I'm not sure if my boyfriend... i think I'll talk it over with my boyfriend... Ahhhhhhhhh

all of that plus the moving.... they knows they won't be moving in together for a good while but feels real close to it and it just lights them up from the inside, because when they do move in it's going to feel just like this and so much more.

healthy regupete is good and all but NOTHING will beat soft regupete. and yeah you can ship Regulus with anyone but some just hit different.

#marauders #peter pettigrew #regulus black #regupete #zeel answers #regulus x peter #peter x regulus

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dear-gods-wtf · 11 months ago

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{2} Waterboy- P. Jackson🔱.

By Mari_coppolo on Wattpad.

Status: On going.

Chapters: 121.

Time: 23h 44m.

Updates: Starting to write new Act (no updates)

—Table of Contents—

✨Act One✨ (The Demigod Diaries)

“Take 1”

“Take 2”

“Take 3”

“Take 4”

“Take 5”

“Take 6”

“It wasn’t my intention to crash on their date, but look who’s back!”

“I’m ADHD, of course I do things at the same time. I just don’t finish them.”

“He was a skater boy, She said see you later boy.”

“Happy one month anniversary…? *Jazz hands*”

“In Portuguese it’s called Vaca Preta, but no cows were harmed in the process.”

“Dude made a list and didn’t even told me.”

“I’m really bad at hide and seek, please don’t do this to me.”

“North, what are those? These are not clothes!”

“Welcome to Camp Half-Blood… I guess. A cookie would’ve been good. No? Okay.”

“Everyone kills someone at least once in their life. Take a chill pill.”

“Free Prophecies! Who wants a Prophecy? It’s free, come get one!”

“Visiting a friend.”

“So, I found this place. Hey, calm down! It found me, okay?”

“That, kids, is why we don’t hold things for too long.”

“Fucked up hard. Omgs that’s depressing. All good in the end (partially).”

“I’m going insane. Can you see my eye twitching?”

“In a span of seven months… everything can change.”

“Wanna know what I had? I wish it was drugs, but it’s only a nightmare”

⚓️Act Two⚓️ (The Mark of Athena)

“Fuck New Rome, I just want Percy.”

“ *breathe in* AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH”

“My Monster High lunch box is cooler than your Rainbow High one.”

“I’m the prettiest witch you’ve ever seen. After Hecate.”

“I love you, but please, shut up before I punch you.”

“Wanna change weapons? No? I’ll just stab myself then.”

"No, please! Don't send me back there! This is torture!!"

"Want something to drink? Water? Oh, we only have Vodka at home."

"As we can see, I know how to dance funk."

"Greeks in Rio. Wait, he's Roman, actually. Greeks and Romans in Rio."

"Duel of demigods and Fast & Furious shit."

"Mom, can we please DON'T keep them?"

"Man up, Percy. She's just a girl. It's not that hard. (It was hard.)"

"Got grounded by a small satyr with anger issues."

"Welcome back! On today's episode; Sex Education."

"Can I just hit my head on the wall, now?"

Spilling the tea. Quite literally."

"Romans are obsessed with us."

"Just had a massive horrible war flashback."

"It's Whack a Doodle Time."

"Shrimpzilla, the movie. Available on every streaming platform but Netflix."

"Damn, broski! Who ever made those brownies understood the assignment."

"Guess Hercules is an asshole... are all the gods assholes?"

"Visitors should only be received after noon. Not before that."

"My girlfriend tries to seduce our way out."

"Mr. D (or B, I dunno) this one's for you, bro."

"We drop Annabeth off at the daycare (Don't recommend bringing in your child.)"

"Ghosts are fucking stupid, seriously."

"In case of desperation, have a cookie."

"Five Nights at Freddy type of shit."

"I walked all the way here just to walk back. How cool is that?"

"Thirsty. But not Taemin's thirsty. We just need water."

"Feel like drowning today, wanna tag along?"

"My eyes! What the fuck, dude! You blinded me with that horrible view!"

"Wanna watch the fireworks with me? It's a date."

"Can I scream in rage right now?"

"Now, kids, it's not nice to punch people older than one hundred years."

"Never, I repeat, never celebrate before you're in a safe place."

"We are not getting separated again."

"If I could just go back in time."

💀Act Three💀(The House of Hades)

"I'm not a mountain girl."

"I don't even know what I want for breakfast, imagine for my future."

"As Ever After High once said; The end is only the beginning."

"For everyone who ever told me to go to hell; Fuck you, I just arrived."

"Crazy? I was crazy once."

"Of all monsters, IT HAD TO BE THAT BITCH??"

"Things can get better-Never mind, they can't."

"Robbed by dwarfs. This gotta be a fucking joke."

"I adopt two dwarfs. Jason, make that shortie joke again and I'll beat you up."

"You won't believe what just happened."

"My life at this point could be resumed with one phrase; What the fuck?"

"Well, now I know that I can't turn into a Rhino."

"Why the fuck did I suggest that?"

"Got scolded by my boyfriend."

"I hate dreaming."

"That one K-pop song- Going crazy. Doesn't need to be specific."

"Give plastic to the turtles."

"Are you really reading this chapter?"

"Well, that's fucked up."

"It's like I'm paying for my sins."

"We are safe! For a short amount of time."

"Demi-dreams are weird as fuck."

"Going to meet one of my girlfriend's step-brothers-If we consider."

"Cupid can stick his arrow up his motherfucking ass."

"I have seen a lot in life, but this scene was traumatizing."

"Drakon slayer."

"I'll never lose this flower."

"I hate French cold goddesses."

"Love speaks too loud."

"Another help to the list."

"We're quite dead."

"I think Misery has a kink."

"Maybe, just maybe, I would've preferred to die than being here with her."

"It is bad, but not that bad... just bad."

"Might be doing something wrong, but I'm Leo Valdez, so it's going as scripted."

"Seriously, gods sometimes are really dumb."

"Percy amazes me even more at each minute we spend together."

"Teenagers scares me. Especially if they are a certain son of Hades."

"Yee-haw!"

"We found the little bitch."

"Well guys, I have to think of something to keep me going."

"It locked."

"I got this idea but I have a feeling you won't like it that much."

"Do you think he would give me an autograph before I die?"

"If they are going to have a baby... does that mean that... they fucked?"

"This place could offer better food and drinks."

"Roses are red, Violets are blue. I'm the son of Mars, who's gonna fuck you."

"Bob is cool as fuck, Tartarus is an asshole. Anyone disagree?"

"I would prefer to take the stairs if that meant you were coming with us."

"Fuck the pina coladas."

"What a ridiculous mother you have, sir Minotaur."

"I don't like labyrinths."

"The gods should learn to NOT STAND BY THE FUCKING SIDE. ACT, BITCH."

"We did it."

"What a cool picnic. (The only good part was the food and the company.)"

"A hug can recharge your energy."

"The stars are brighter tonight."

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ariparri · 2 years ago

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Flowers For Your Garden

The Hogwarts Mystery Cardverse is an AU that takes place in a fantasy land called Cinderhaven. There are five regions, four of them representing a suit of cards; Spades, Clubs, Hearts, Diamonds. The final region representing the Jokers.

HPHM Cardverse Masterlist

Warnings: Diego trying to impress Veruca

Tag List: @catohphm @lifeofkaze @eternalchaoschocolaterain @oneirataxia-girl @akikocho

If you want to be updated on content for the AU, let me know and I'll put you on the tag list!

I had this in the drafts for a while! Wanted to get this done last month, but so many things were going on. Still currently dealing with the aftermath of Typhoon Mawar TmT Also, sorry if I portrayed the MCs poorly I tried qwq I kind of gave up in the end, and didn't bother proofreading =w=

Weeks after the civil war, the Country of Spades has continued the process of restoring its home to its former glory. Machinery that were used during the war have been refined back to their original intended uses, building and mining. The streets were easily cleared of debris and destroyed buildings were quick to have the wreckage removed.

Along with the people, Clubs have provided medical aide and man power to help remove debris and rebuild some infrastructures. Diamonds has offered funding for businesses and people who need help with damage repairs. What surprised the people of Spades the most was the Jokers offering to host the children and the elderly while Spades continued the restoration. They have even offered to hold Rakepick’s devoted followers as prisoners, or more so to have them forced to take part in a comedic act where they are the targets of humiliation.

With Hearts’ contribution, they have helped with clearing the railroad tracks between the mountain path connecting Spades to Hearts so the train can operate again. Upon the last meeting between both the officials, Spades' Ace, Bill Weasley, had mentioned that Queen Veruca was upset after seeing the damage done to the garden she frequented. Wanting to make up for his horrible first meeting with Veruca, King Diego had taken it upon himself and prepared a new shipment for the country after the tracks were cleared.

The royal gardener, Sarahi Silvers, was tasked with gathering bundles of flowers, seedlings, sprouts and potted trees for Spades' restoration. King Diego had hand picked the types of flowers to be planted in Spades' parks. With all the florals in the kingdom, he wanted the perfect ones to be sent to Spades. Sarahi went through each of the plants, making sure everything was accounted for on the list as they were placed on the carts. Seeing that everything was there, Sarahi gave the guards a thumbs up for them to finish loading up the carts.

Standing by the gates, she waves them off as they head to the stations with the shipment. If the stations aren't crowded, the shipment should be able to reach Spades within a day.

~ Next Day • Country of Spades ~

Back in the Country of Spades, the newly appointed Jack, Rowan Khanna, rushes through the corridors of the palace, nearly bumping into the staff and workers trying to restore and clean up the damage from the war. The palace was the last thing Veruca wanted repaired as she wanted the resources to be used more for the people.

Hastily passing by people trying not to knock more things over, Rowan makes her way to the main garden of the palace. Excited by the latest supply delivery Rowan hopes the letter will bring some comfort to her friend. Afterall, the Country's acting Queen, Veruca McQuaid, cared more about her home than most people realized.

On the other side of the palace, Veruca stands in the middle of what remains of the main garden. What was once a beautiful place to relax during the day has now been wrecked in the midst of the war. As depressing as the sight before her, a melancholic aura hangs heavy in the remains of the garden. Her priority right now is to make sure homes and businesses were attended to first before public spaces like the parks.

Though Veruca cannot help the doleful look as she made her way towards the broken down gazebo. This very garden was her favorite place in the palace. When her brother, Coby, was still the King, they would have lunch in the gazebo on days Coby was free. That was quality time for the McQuaid siblings, that he would make sure everything was already prepared and would send away any servant or guard to prevent any interruptions.

Oh how she misses those simple days. Days where she didn't have to worry about getting stopped on the street by guards abusing their authority or constantly looking over her shoulder for someone following her.

If Veruca closes her eyes, she can remember how lush the plot of grass was, contoured by connected flower bushes and shrubs. The gazebo standing near the back of the garden, surrounded by a plethora of more exotic species. The flower beds were slightly overgrown, but looked otherwise in great shape; they were a unique, miniature world.

A couple of benches were carefully placed in specific locations of the garden, almost taking people by the hand in order to show them the best sights. Grass and plants had crawl their way over and around the garden, eager to claim all pieces of land.

The gazebo demanded all attention, but in doing so also drew the attention to everything near it. The flower beds often looked fantastic, and the flower bushes and shrubs certainly attracted attention too, but the spotlight was always on the gazebo.

Veruca hoped to restore the garden to what it once was. But how and where were they even going to start? Some of the flowers were not native to Spades, and the gazebo was designed by an architect from Diamonds. The last thing Veruca wanted to do was ask the regions for more assistance when they have already offered more than enough support for the country. Veruca has already owed enough people a favor for their assistance in the rebellion, she would hate to add more to ongoing list.

The sound of dead grass and twigs being crushed break Veruca out of her train of thoughts. She turns her gaze over towards the entrance of the garden to see Rowan rushing over to her, an envelope in her hand.

"Veruca, there you are! We just got a delivery from Hearts." The Jack holds up the envelope, the Hearts official stamp in clear view. "They sent an entire abundle of floral sprouts and potted trees. King Diego says it should be enough to help restore the plant life here."

Taking the envelope from Rowan, Veruca reads over the letter contained inside of it. "I hope these flowers can help return the Country's true glow with all their beautiful colors." Unexpected, but pleasantly surprised by the gesture, Veruca cannot help but smile. "So the King of Hearts can be genuine."

Rowan nods, "Despite his showmanship, King Diego does show genuine compassion towards others. It was a surprise though when he greeted you with that ridiculous comment."

A tight frown appeared on Veruca's face, "Hm, yes. Bill wasn't joking about Hearts and their obsession with beauty." A tired sigh escapes from her lips, "well come on then, let's go see what they had to offer." She nudges Rowan by the arm before making her way to the entrance. A small laugh was heard as Rowan comes rushing over to her side. "You're going to be impressed by the array of florals Hearts has. I wasn't even aware some of them were native to the Kingdom!"

The two made their way to the palace gates discussing what was next on their line of business. Bill was helping with the construction work while Veruca's family was helping in any way they can to provide for those who lost their homes. Rowan's family was working harder to provide materials and products for the people. Everyone was doing everything they could to rebuild Spades. Even Peregrine Pierce, a Trades Tracker, has even offered products and services from his company. Mister Pierce was a huge help during the rebellion, he was able to provide most of the rebels with equipment and gear without any of Rakepick's soldiers suspecting it.

"Everything seems to be going in order. The roads are being reconstructed, and most of the homes and facilities are in repair." Rowan addresses, flipping through the papers on her clip board. "I say if things continue to go this smoothly, we'll be done with all the repairs in no time!"

Veruca simply nods, "That's good. I want nothing more than for the people to go back to their old lives, before I plan to do anything else."

"I know, the staff here are surprised you haven't started the building plan for the palace's repairs."

"The palace can wait, the people should be able to sleep comfortably first. They're my priority right now."

The two women stepped through the palace doors, walking down the steps leading towards the gates. Three carts fully decked with plants and other gardening supplies, ranging from sprouts and seedlings to potted trees and shrubs. The carts were full with a beautiful array of florals, each one with its own unique set of gorgeous colors. They felt so out of place in the ruined remains of the palace entrance, surrounded by grey from smoke and soot. But still, these plants can help bring back some color in the country and lift people's spirits.

"Wow," amazed by the rainbow assortment, Veruca admires the way they shine under the sunlight. Taking her time to examine each of the greenery the Queen was impressed with Hearts' flora and vegetation. "You weren't kidding Rowan. I don't think I've ever seen some of these plants before."

Rowan lets out a small chuckle, "I knew you'd be impressed. Here take a look at this set right here!" The Jack takes a hold of one of the potted plants, holding it up carefully for Veruca to see. "These are Alstroemerias, also known as lily of the Incas. They come in many different colors. Their outer petals are solid colors while the inner petals are flecked or striped with darker colors. Beautiful aren't they?"

"They indeed are," Leaning closer to the plant, "perhaps we can–" the strong scent of the plant causes Veruca's face scrunches up, "we can– ah– achoo!" The sudden gush of air caused the pollen to spread.

"Bless you!" Rowan chimed, offering her handkerchief to Veruca. "Thank you," Veruca takes the cloth, sniffling a bit before wiping her nose. Her face scrunches up once again as she breathes in the pollen. Sneezing again, Veruca holds the handkerchief to her face.

"Veruca, are you alright?" Rowan puts the lily down quickly coming to Veruca's side. "You're not looking too well."

True to her words, Veruca's face was flushed. Her eyes were red with tears forming on her waterlines, slight swelling was beginning to form. A dull, throbbing pain was pounding against her head. Bringing her hand up to her head, she massages her temple to try and ease the pain.

She takes deep breaths, finding it hard to breathe despite her runny nose and congestion. Her throat and mouth begin to itch, coughing, clearing her throat and running her tongue on the roof of her mouth to try and soothe the itch. Her attempts were futile though as it just made the itch worse.

"I think–" another sneeze cuts Veruca off, "I think I'm allergic to… the pollen…" Rowan lets out a huff, "I'll say! You're definitely having an allergic reaction!" Taking Veruca by the hand, Rowan leads her back towards the palace. As soon as they were inside, the Head Maid, Aishe Durrant, comes rushing towards them.

"Aishe make some herbal tea, and call for a doctor. Her majesty is having an allergic reaction." Aishe nods hastily, running to call a doctor. Rowan helps Veruca to her chambers, guiding her to the bed before heading towards the private bathroom. She searched through the cabinets, sifting through the contents hoping to find something to help alleviate Veruca's condition. Finding a small bottle, Rowan checks the label. Painkillers. While it might not help much with the itchy throat or watery eyes, it could help with the headache.

Taking the bottle, Rowan heads back into the main room to see Aishe placing the tray of tea on the nightstand. Madam Strout, one of Spades' best healers despite being somewhat inattentive and naive, stands beside Aishe as she examines Veruca's condition. "So this is your first time having an allergic reaction?"

"Yes, doctor." The queen confirmed with a curt nod. "I have been around many flowers before, being able to breathe in the pollen until today." She sniffs, before coughing into a tissue.

"Mhmm," Madam Strout quickly wrote down the information on her clipboard, "and it was a lily that had caused your sudden allergic reaction." She stated, "The alstroemerias to be exact."

Veruca could only give a slight nod before another coughing fit starts. She swallows hard, taking deep breaths to try and steady herself. Rowan frowns seeing her friend in this condition, though she cannot do much but stand by as Madam Strout continues her assessment. The doctor nods her head, tapping her pen against the clipboard before turning her gaze towards the queen. "Well your majesty, your allergies are not severe. We are able to provide you medication."

"Oh that's good," Veruca gives her a small, shaky smile, "what are they, and when will I be able to take them?"

"With the alstroemerias being planted here, we can give you allergy shots to help your body build a resistance to the pollen. Yet remember since it will be your first time taking the shot, the medication will take some time for it to take effect." Madam Strout sorts through her medical bag, "I can prepare the medication for later and have it sent once it's complete. For now, you can take these allergy pills to ease the other symptoms."

"Thank you for your help, Madam Strout." Rowan takes the pills from Strout, grateful that Veruca's condition wasn't as bad as she thought, "I was really worried there for a second."

A soft chuckle left Madam Strout's lips, "Of course my dear. Now remember, call me if her majesty's condition gets worse." Madam Strout waves at the two women as she follows Aishe out of the room.

"Well, having an allergic reaction was not how I planned to end the day." Veruca sighs, throwing herself down onto her pillow. Rowan can only hum in agreement, "If I had known you were allergic, I wouldn't have brought the flower so close to you."

"It wasn't your fault, Ro. It's not like I knew I was allergic to those flowers too." Shaking her head, Veruca once again lets out another sigh. Taking one of the pills from the bottle Madam Strout provided for her, Veruca swallows the tablet. "I have never seen those flowers until today!"

Rowan stays silent for a moment, analyzing her friend before a smile takes over her face. "Well, we can place blame on King Diego. After all, he was the one to send it!" Even though she was joking, Rowan is already thinking of what she was going to say to the King of Hearts when she sends them a letter. Seeing the mischievous glint in her friend's eyes, Veruca can't help but laugh. "Oh alright, but go easy on him. It's not like he knew about my allergies as well."

"Of course, of course your majesty!"

~ Kingdom of Hearts ~

Back at the Kingdom of Hearts, the Royal messenger wolf cub awaits the postman outside the castle walls. Taking a short break from the day’s hard work of going around the kingdom delivering letters from the royal court and townsfolk, Borf was resting under the shade provided by the tree near the gate. After all, Borf was a good hardworking boy, and he deserved a little nap.

His ears perked at the sound of an engine running, alerting him of another presence. Instantly awake, Borf gets up from his laying position and stands guard. Facing the entrance, his blue eyes searched for the new presence approaching the castle. Finding that it was just postman's vehicle pulling up to castle gates Borf's tail wags expectantly. The postman steps out of the vehicle, waving towards the excited wolf cub hopping in place before it trots towards the postman.

Letting out a content sound from being petted, Borf sits to enjoy the attention the man is giving him while the postman places the navy blue envelope in his messenger bag. Accepting the treat with a happy bark, Borf waits till the postman leaves the castle grounds before turning around and heading back inside the castle.

A happy bark catches Chiara's attention and she turns to see Borf skipping over to her. "Hey there, Borf." Chiara crouches down to Borf's level, a smile adorning her face, "Did you retrieve the letter from the postman?" Another bark from the cub tells Chiara that he has received it, before turning around to show off his bag. Chiara takes the envelope from Borf and pet him on the head, "Good job, boy." Standing up with the letter in hand, Chiara makes her way to the monarchs sitting under one of the big trees in the garden.

The messenger cub makes his way through the massive corridors or the castle. His grey coat along with his red and gold vest shine under the bright lights as he walks by. Borf has completed one part of his task, retrieve a letter from the postman, and now he has to deliver it to the Jack of Hearts. He makes his way to the private garden the monarchs occupy for their usual tea time. Upon reaching the doorway, Borf wags his tail once his eyes land on his owner, Chiara Lobosca, the Jack of Hearts. Her silver hair is the first thing he notices.

Diego's eyes light up at the news, "Ah, wonderful! I have been expecting their letter." He sets his teacup down and readjusts his position to lean back against his chair. "I wonder if her majesty is quite pleased by the array of florals she has received."

"Your majesties, we have received a letter from Spades." Chiara calls out, catching the King and Queen's attention. The silver, spades shaped wax seal catches their eyes as it shines under the sunlight. "It must be their response about yesterday's shipment."

Carewyn, the dutiful Queen of Hearts, squints her eyes at her fellow monarch as she sets her own cup down. "An array of florals?"

"Nothing but the best!" Nodded Diego, feeling proud of his noble deed. "I had heard from their Ace, Bill Weasley, that her majesty wishes to restore the gardens and parks. So I–"

"Tasked Sarahi to pick out every floral arrangement you had requested and shipped them off to Spades." Carewyn cuts in, waving her hand to signal Chiara to open the letter. "Well, she is better at handling floral than you are."

"Absolutely! She was our best person to handle it. All the assortments were gorgeous," Diego exclaims, happily snacking on the tea cakes. After dusting his hands clean of any crumbs, he clears his throat, "Chiara, what has the Queen of Spades said in her letter? I'm sure she and her people adored our gift."

"Actually, it's from the Jack, Rowan Khanna." Noticing the slight disappointment in the King's eyes, Carewyn raises her brow as Chiara lets out a small chuckle before reading the note.

"Dear King Diego, we appreciate the shipment you have provided and will happily plant every flower and tree around the country. Her Majesty was quite fond of the alstroemerias–"

"Ah I knew the lilies would be perfect for her majesty!" Diego raises his cup, making a small cheer before bringing it close to his lips.

"However," Chiara interjects, cutting Diego's celebration short, "despite her majesty's appreciation for the flowers, they have triggered an allergic reaction and her majesty is now on bed rest until it passes. Her majesty has ordered that the alstroemerias will still be planted, yet it will be on the far east side of the country by the tracks by the mountain path. The next time you send something over, please make sure it will not potentially kill our queen."

As Chiara finished reading the letter a loud thud resonated from the table. Both women looked to see Diego's head faced down on the table, his teacup knocked over on the side. Muttering can be heard, yet he dared not to make any movements. "Uh, Sire…?" Chiara called, Borf walking over to the King before nudging his foot. "Are you okay?"

More mumbling from the King, "That's twice… twice I messed up my impression to her… Stupid Diego, how could you be so stupid?!"

Slightly amused by Diego's moping, yet is in disbelief by his intentions, Carewyn lets out an exasperated sigh. "Diego, you didn't think to ask what flowers Veruca or her council would want for their parks?" A groan was her response followed by a mumbled 'I wanted to surprise her.' Carewyn pinches the bridge of her nose, "Oh you surprised her, alright."

Diego turns his gaze away, looking anywhere but the two women with a pout on his face. "I'm not trying to make a fool out of her."

"It's hard to root for you when you're fumbling terribly over a woman." Carewyn claims, resting her elbows against the table and her chin upon her hands. A sly smile graced her features. "You've never been so shaken up over a woman before. Are you perhaps fond of the Acting Queen of Spades?"

"Right, because the only one who is making a fool out of themself is you, my Lord!" Chiara chimes, earning a soft chuckle from Carewyn and a huff from Diego. "Hey, you're supposed to be on my side here!"

Before Diego can answer, Carewyn raises her hand to silence him. "Veruca is clearly not like the women here in Hearts. They did not lead a rebellion and lost their only brother to a tyrant. Veruca is dealing with more than what we manage. You understand that, right?" She sternly holds his gaze, the seriousness of her words getting to him. "I know you're not trying to hurt her, nor were you intentionally being ingenuine. But do you understand that simply giving Veruca flowers without knowing her wasn't going to turn out in your favor?"

Not being able to turn his gaze away, Diego nodded, "I do… I do, I just–" he lets out a deep breath, "The way she looked at me when we first met… It was almost similar to the glint in your eyes when we met but more… intense. I felt chills throughout my entire body, and I liked it." Chuckling as he recalled their first meeting with the acting queen. "And then I acted on impulse! Said the first thing on my mind, tried to fix it and I blew it!"

The two women laughed thinking back on the memory. Carewyn left Chiara to continue the lecture as she took Veruca around the castle. The silver haired Jack remembers her king pouting as he watched Veruca follow Carewyn. He probably wasn't aware of it at the time, but he was quite smitten by Veruca.

Another sigh is heard, "I was hoping that by giving Spades flowers and trees for their parks, I'd be able to make it up to Veruca for our first meeting. I don't want her to think I see nothing past her beauty."

A moment of silence passes, letting Diego's words sink in before Carewyn hums in acknowledgement, "Remember the music box you gave me for Christmas?" She asks, receiving a nod, "You went out of your way to give me something when I was feeling down." She gave him a pointed look, "You can give thoughtful gifts when you are being genuine and sincere."

Diego remains quiet. Carewyn and Chiara are right, Veruca doesn't need a thousand flowers. And her reaction to their first meeting proved that she was not the type to accept compliments so empty like that. He can remember the look of absolute disgust when he asked what else was there to beauty. And he still remembers the hard hit to the head and the lectures about his poor choice of words. He truly was making a fool out of himself.

Seeing the realization dawn on his face, a knowing smile graces Carewyn's face. "So you now understand, that you have this whole thing backwards." She stands up from her seat, "You're treating her like she's one of your fangirls. We ladies of Spades are more inclined to accept praises when we earn them." Carewyn pats Diego on his shoulder before heading towards the archway entrances, "I can help you, but first," turning around, she gives Diego one last earnest look, "stop trying to mindlessly impress her and get to know the woman. Veruca will be more appreciative of you and your gifts if you are genuine about it." Carewyn then exits the garden, leaving behind Diego and Chiara.

"She's right, Sire." Stated the Jack, breaking Diego out from his thoughts. "And her majesty won't be the only one to help you. There's also me to help," Borf lets out a bark reminding them of his presence, "and also Borf!" The wolf cub barks once again in agreement. "It's honestly getting quite sad to see you try so hard only to fail."

Diego laughs, shaking his head. "Of course. I appreciate the help from all of you." Chiara smiles before handing him the letter. "We aren't the only ones offering our aide, it seems even the Jack of Spades herself is willing to give you some advice."

Taking the letter, Diego reads past the lines. He lets out another small laugh as he reads the words written at the bottom of the paper under where Rowan had signed.

'PS If you really want to impress her majesty, her favorite flowers are carnations.'

#hphm cardverse #veruca mcquaid #diego caplan #carewyn cromwell #rowan khanna #chiara lobosca #borf #hogwarts mystery #hphm #harry potter hogwarts mystery #writing 💙

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