#it's interesting to think about the pronoun choices in this scene

[alectoperdita]

WIP Snippet Sunday

More stuff from Mob, but from a future chapter either 7 or 8. Finally getting some Jou POV though.

---

"Look, they're not in this life. They're normal," sighed Katsuya without removing the towel from his face.

"You mean they don't know you're..."

"Nah, they know. The amazing part is they don't care. But I don't wanna cause trouble for 'em. They have a white-collar job and everything. Perfectly respectable work."

If you didn't count whatever legal advising was done on Yoshimori's behalf, but hey, the law guaranteed everyone a right to trial and counsel. But Katsuya knew Seto had plenty of other clients. As he told him once, his specialty was actually in corporate governance.

"So why are they with you?" joked Kazuki.

"I'm wondering the same thing, kid," he mumbled under his breath.

Despite Seto's assurance that he wasn't "slumming it," the divide between their education and social class continued to make Katsuya antsy. When they were together, when Seto smiled and laughed for him, Katsuya could put it out of his mind for the time. But when they were apart like now? No matter how he looked at it, he couldn't measure up to Seto's standard.

[hyper-fixates]

Time After Time

Logan Howlett/Wolverine x AFAB!reader (no pronouns/gendered language).

Explicit content (18+)

Word count: 15.2k never let me near him again

Tags/warnings: age-gap due to logan’s mutation (reader’s age not specified), mutant!reader, unprotected sex, teasing, friends to lovers, explicit language, dry humping, storm cameos, fluff, domesticity, the claws come out when he’s close (👁️👁️), detailed descriptions & scenes of nightmares/trauma/PTSD/panic attacks, one (1) ass smack, alcohol consumption, vomiting, biting/marking, angst, soft!logan, creampie, groping/touching, use of “baby” once, aftercare, yearning (kindly let me know if anything was missed!).

Summary: 4 times you end up in Logan’s bed, and the 1 time he does something about it.

Notes: this falls somewhere in between “which could mean nothing” and “we can fix each other” 🫡 (written with a mix of X1 & X2 logan!)

Your heart, despite always being alive and beating, sometimes wakes up before you.

You can feel it before your eyes even have a chance to open. It jolts your sleep-ridden body and collapses your lungs without giving your brain a chance to fight against it. Muscles and limbs feel lifeless and detached from your body, shaking from the sleep that your heart knows wasn’t completely dreamless.

You kick the blankets off of yourself and sit up in a panic, trying to regain some control of your sudden erratic breaths while bringing a lethargic hand to your heaving chest in hopes to ground yourself. It never works.

Maybe your ribs are shrinking and squeezing your lungs, making you delirious from the lack of oxygen, but you know that’s not the case. Your heart feels like it’s being squeezed and broken into a million tiny pieces.

No part of your body feels real, yet you keep your hand on your chest as firmly as you can, trying to focus on controlling the pounding of your heart that’s working so hard with each beat that it hurts. 

“Fuck. Fuck,” you choke out, feeling the tears finally breach and roll down your cheeks as your nervous system catches up to what’s happening.

 Panic. It’s all panic.

You can’t do anything but sit there and let the tears hit the freshly-washed fitted sheet on your bed. So you let it happen. Nothing can stop it.

Trauma is such a fickle thing. One moment you’re fine, and then the next, your heart is screaming at you and forcing your body to process something at 4 a.m. on a random Friday when all you wanted was some goddamn sleep.

There is no choice. Your mind doesn’t give you one.

The tremors subside slowly after a few minutes, giving you the feeling back to your arms and legs, albeit minimal.

You slide to sit at the edge of your bed, resting an elbow on your thigh and setting your chin into your palm with a defeated, yet shaky, huff. 

You look to your window and see that the sun hasn’t even started to rise yet. You’ll be up for the rest of the foreseeable morning, but there’s not much to do so early besides wander aimlessly and think…then think some more. 

You’re confident the professor isn’t even awake at this hour, which says enough about your state. You would typically go visit Storm for some comfort, but she’s been gone fuck-knows-where with Hank and Scott until Sunday at the latest. Thanks, Charles.

A questionable, and probably manic, decision comes to mind. One that’s only two doors down, one over from Storm.

Your impulsive feet make up your mind for you. The cold hardwood floor shocking you further into consciousness as if your heart didn’t do a good enough job.

You tiptoe a couple steps down the hall, forcing yourself to turn and face the large wooden door when you reach it. You just stand there staring at it, unknocking, analyzing the wood grains, suddenly very interested in what type of wood it is and what stain was used to—

“Uh. Are you okay?”

You refocus your eyes onto the man now standing in front of you in the doorway, adorning a barely-zipped school hoodie and black sweats.

“Huh?” You blink a few times, disoriented.

Logan quirks a brow, looking you up and down cautiously. “Are you okay?” He asks again, offering a look of concern—or maybe confusion—that you haven’t seen often. A look that’s never needed to be directed towards you.

You come back to yourself. “But—I…didn’t knock,” you respond, looking equally as confused as him as you point to the door. 

He leans against the edge of the door, face softening. “I could smell you before you passed Storm’s room,” he clarifies, a hint of reluctance in his tone. Oh. 

You feel like a child who has just gained awareness, all too conscious of your situation.

“You’re…awake?” Is all you manage despite probably needing to say much more than that to explain just why exactly you’re standing outside Logan’s room at 4 a.m.

“So are you,” he counters with a curious look. “So let me ask again. Are you okay?” He locks his eyes on yours, probably in hopes to understand why the fuck you’re outside his room at 4 a.m.

“I’m not sure how to answer that,” you say, and it’s the truth. 

You should probably be embarrassed. You show up at Logan’s door unannounced, dressed in a flimsy shirt and matching sweats—thanks, Charles—that can’t fully hide the remaining quivers throughout your body.

Logan pulls his lips together at your admission. You can almost see the wheels turning in his head trying to figure you out.

“Can’t sleep?” He questions, but he knows he’s right.

“Yeah.” You don’t know why you’re making it Logan’s problem, though. Sure, he happens to be awake, but maybe this is all too personal to push on the guy who’s seemingly all pride and no solicitude most of the time.

It’s not that he’s not a good, nice guy, but you don’t know how you would define your relationship, or lack of.

You know each other well enough from existing in the same space over the past couple months, being part of the same “team”, but it’s nothing to call a close friendship like you and Storm. He’s a bit of a rare species in the mansion, not really lingering around.

He cocks his head in a half shrug, the soft points in his hair broken by sleep shake gently with the movement.

“I don’t think I can help you,” he says wearily. “I’m no better. Clearly.” He gestures between you, drawing attention to the fact that you’re both awake. The helpless cannot help the helpless.

“Oh—no, I’m not looking for help. I think I’m beyond that at this point,” you laugh but stop yourself short when Logan doesn’t follow. Tough crowd.

“I, uh, don’t actually know what I’m looking for,” you offer.

You knit your brows together in thought, still wondering why the fuck you’re here. Comfort? Entertainment? Some other unknown third thing?

“I’m not really used to Storm being gone for so long,” you admit. “I just feel…all over the place, I guess.”

Logan considers your vulnerability for a beat, eyes flicking to yours. “I can hear you sometimes,” he says, a knowing—almost sympathetic—look on his face. “We have the same problem.”

You go cold, any expression you had on your face sliding away. You wish the floor could swallow you right now. You know things have been getting worse recently, but you didn’t think anyone could hear that fact. Maybe it shouldn’t come as a surprise from someone who could smell you from down the hallway.

He steps back, pulling his door open further. An invitation.

You don’t move right away. Could this be a false awakening? You’re not sure what you expected when you came to his door, but you also didn’t expect him to open it without you knocking, so you have to suspend disbelief for now. You figured he’d offer a few words of advice and dismiss you, or maybe even tell you to fuck off, but he opened his door wider for you. But you didn’t exactly think any of it through in the first place anyway.

You force your feet to carry you into Logan’s room. It’s not much different from yours; scarce belongings, minimal decor, a small work desk, brown curtains that are drawn back, and a bed. 

“Were you, uh…sleeping before I came?” You sit on the unmade bed, nothing noticeably different from it compared to yours.

He shuts the door quietly, moving to the small desk across the room and filing some scattered papers together neatly.

“Trying to,” he says, keeping his gaze on the desk.

Fucking duh. “Sorry if I disturbed you,” you wince to yourself. 

You see him briefly shake his head at your unnecessary apology. “I had to get up anyway.” His voice is still gravelly from sleep.

It feels like you’re invading his space. But he invited you in. How many others have had the opportunity to be in here? Probably too many. There’s nothing to make this special.

“I’m fucking exhausted,” you sigh, flopping back on his bed defeated. Simply overwhelmed with the uncontrollable repercussions of your mutation.

“Try to sleep. If you want,” he offers, moving to the edge of the bed. “It’s easier said than done, but I have to meet with Charles in an hour.” It’s gruff, but he’s sincere.  

Maybe the professor is awake after all.

You roll your head to the side to look at him. Was he really offering for you to stay in his bed?

“Oh, wow…uh, sure.” It comes off as more of a question, but he quirks his brows in acknowledgment, turning back to the desk and collecting a handful of other miscellaneous papers.

“I have to head downstairs and take care of some things. Stay as long as you need,” he says, zipping his sweater the rest of the way up. Thank God in heaven.

A shy “thanks” is all you manage as you situate yourself on the bed.

Is this fucking weird? You could name a handful of others in the mansion right this second that would kill without hesitation to be where you are. They’d probably kill you specifically to get it. It’s not much of a secret that Logan is the subject of almost all students’ desires. He knows it, too. 

“See you later,” he adds, his lips forming the slightest hint of a caring smile as he sees himself out. You throw one back before the door clicks shut.

Should you be offended that he didn’t stay? That he left so quickly? No, no, he can’t. He couldn’t. Charles is expecting him. The timing is just horrid. But now you’re just…alone…in Logan’s room, expected to sleep because of a random act of kindness in his heart.

Lying in his bed instead of yours is an odd sensation. The sheets and mattress are exactly the same, the pillows are just as fluffy, yet it feels unalike. 

You flop your head on his pillow, tugging the blankets up to your chin. Your fingers graze something by your hip as you settle in, making you push the blanket back down. Leaning over, you see three puncture marks in the mattress, fraying the bedsheet material into feather-soft strands around the deep holes.

Your eyes widen, remembering his words before he invited you in: “We have the same problem.”

Part of your heart fractures for the second time today. Your eyes cross over to the other side of you, seeing a matching set of holes just below the pillow. It’s suddenly easy to understand why no one besides him has been seen coming and going from this room in a while. One day, things just seemed to change. 

Maybe his act of kindness was an act of mercy. Trauma will always find you, and it will make sure you feel it until you either destroy it or it destroys you.

Even the Wolverine isn’t an exception. 

━━━━ ● ━━━━

The gold liquid is gone from the glass as quickly as it was poured.

Your throat clenches and protests the swallow as you try to suppress the urge to gag. You gently set the shot glass back on the counter, watching Storm chase with a piece of lime that does nothing to help the puckered face she makes from the tequila. 

“No more, no more. I can’t.” Your arms anchor you to the counter to stop yourself from swaying too much.

Storm nods, still fighting off the sourness with furrowed brows and a scrunched nose. You giggle at her when she quickly screws the cap back on the bottle, sliding it out of reach.

“You’re a bad influence,” she scolds as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

“No—I’m under the influence,” you counter, a playful smile on your lips. “There’s a difference. You still have your own free will.”

Storm rolls her eyes so hard you only see the whites of them. “We have training tomorrow,” she slurs. “Charles will not be happy if we show up half-conscious.” She rounds the counter to you, grabbing your shoulders for stability, and you do the same.

“He’ll be lucky if we show up at all,” you mumble. 

The dim kitchen lighting embraces the two of you, the rest of the mansion blanketed in darkness with everyone fast asleep—like you both should be.

You close your eyes with a roll of your neck, more giggles falling through your lips as you clumsily grab onto Storm and rock and sway together for a moment, the alcohol quickly catching up to your motor skills. It feels like you’re spinning through time and space, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel fucking euphoric. At this rate, neither of you will be able to make it back to your rooms.

“Am I interrupting something?”

You lose a bit of your balance as you try to find the resonant voice, eyes shooting open. Storm unintentionally startles and stumbles away from you, white hair also jumping from the excitement.

You grab onto the counter again, sucking in a deep breath. “Fuck, don’t do that,” you growl through your teeth, a hand on your chest as you try to calm yourself.

“Don’t do what? Come to the shared kitchen to grab a drink?” Logan huffs a laugh, an amused smile creeps to his lips as he takes in your drunk and shaken state from the entryway.

“Doesn’t anyone sleep in this place?” He mumbles to himself.

“And with that, I’m done for the night,” Storm chuckles, fixing her hair. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Her eyes lock intensely on yours, index finger firmly poking the middle of your chest to make her point for you to show up to training very clear.

“See you, Logan,” she dismisses, stumbling as she passes him.

Logan shakes his head, still smiling. He steps to the fridge, opening the double doors and plucking a bottle of soda from the bottom shelf. No alcohol is readily available in the communal fridge because, after all, you’re all in a school full of kids, so Storm had to get creative; Scott will be missing a rather large bottle from the now not-so-secret stash in his room.

As the alcohol continues to settle in you, you feel more and more lightheaded as it brings you to a new level of euphoria again. You only know this because watching Logan pop the cap of his drink with mindless ease feels a little more exciting than it would be if you were sober. But you’re not sober, and that’s the problem.

“Not gonna follow Storm?” He asks, taking a generous sip from the bottle as he casually places his free hand on the counter to lean on across from you.

A tight smile forms, mostly to yourself. “I don’t think I can make it down the hall,” you laugh in embarrassment. Maybe that last shot was one too many, and it’s not even fully done working its magic yet.

Logan raises a brow. “Want some help?” There’s no judgement in his tone like you expect. Then again, you don’t know what the fuck to expect from him.

Your already half-closed eyes, blurry and unfocused, meet his hazel ones in interest. Another favour?

It’s been two weeks since he let you sleep off the nightmares in his bed. Two weeks since you learned he’s burdened with them, too. You traced the holes in the mattress over and over before you eventually fell asleep, wondering what—or who—could have hurt him so badly. He plays it off cool; you wouldn’t suspect anything from talking to him. The same could probably be said about you.

“I didn’t know wolverine’s were chivalrous,” you tease.

The yellow hue of the lights dance over the quaffed points in his hair, making them appear sharper than usual. You would never admit it, especially to him, but you adore them. They give him an absurd amount of character that you’d expect a guy like him to not care about. 

You’re not exactly complaining about the fitting grey tank-top he has on either.

“Not overly,” he plays along, taking another mouthful of the fizzy drink. “I like to think I’m special,” he says quieter.

“Maybe you are,” you say as you try and straighten yourself to see if you can stand unassisted.

The world tilts as you stand to your full height, eyes rolling into your head from the wave of dizziness. “Wow, okay,” you say to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut to stop the spinning. How many shots did you have again?

A warm hand presses between your shoulders. “Woah, nice and easy. Nice and easy.” Logan appears by your side to steady you, other hand grabbing your elbow to pull you straight. You wobble in his grip, letting him guide your useless, alcohol-ridden body.

His hand on your back rubs a few small, comforting circles as you work to regain your bearings. He watches your expressions intently, looking for the right moment to get you moving back to your room safe and sound.

Your arm crosses over your body out of instinct to grab the hand he has on your elbow for extra support.

“Are you okay?” He asks. He seems to ask you that a lot.

You lean into him, your shoulder to his chest, and you can feel the blackout creeping up on you like humidity from a thunderstorm—it’s usually too late to do anything once you notice it. 

“I drank a lot,” you laugh deeply, rolling your head onto his shoulder to look up at him.

He looks so much more delicate under the ambient lights—his usual defined features have shifted and melted him into someone that doesn’t look like they should be a feared animal out in the world.

Logan all but cradles you, that same look of concern crossing his features from the night you went to his door. The only difference is that you’ve had a generous amount of tequila—and are currently being kept alert by the hot touch of his hands. That’s new.

“Can you walk?” He holds your squinty eye contact, probably searching for any signs of a coherent thought behind the blissful expression on your face. “Or will I have to carry you?” He muses, a hint of a smile crosses his lips as his hand moves up to gently rub over your shoulders. 

Drunk you likes the sound of anything relating to Logan keeping his hands on you right now. You wonder what sober you would think.

“I’m not gonna tell you no, but it feels like I’m floating in a bubble that won’t stop spinning,” you hum as you let the sensation consume your senses. “I might fly away.” You dip your head back off of his shoulder in amusement as you laugh again. 

“Yeah, you’re fucked up,” he mumbles lovingly. Just like anyone else who’s concerned for your well-being would. 

“Hey, kitty cat—I’m perfectly buzzed,” you emphasize the teasing nickname, narrowing your eyes at him sternly as you bring your gaze back to his in defence.

“‘Kitty cat’? Really?” He snorts. “I think you’re past your bedtime by three drinks,” he remarks back with equal levity.

“Then take me to bed if you’re so concerned,” you sigh dramatically, going limp in his arms to make your point. 

Truthfully, you’re probably past your bedtime by five shots. But he doesn’t need to know that. You just know that you can’t control your limbs like you were able to ten minutes ago.

“Maybe I will.” You don’t see it, but he does his quick little eye roll that you’ve seen pointed towards Scott too many times. 

He slides the hand on your elbow down to the backs of your knees, pulling you up off the floor and into his chest as you fall into the arm that was rubbing your back. 

Oh, so it’s gonna be like that. 

An excited—or maybe shocked—noise escapes your mouth as he adjusts you in his arms. You extend your right arm up and over his shoulder to hug his neck and keep yourself stable.

The trip to your room isn’t one that should take long, but each sway from Logan’s steps goes straight to your stomach in waves of queasiness. It feels like forever before you feel him bend awkwardly to turn your doorknob.

You’re fighting to keep yourself conscious the entire time, not wanting to regret missing the feeling of being in his arms.

The room is only lit by the silver moonlight creeping through the window. It’s hard to distinguish anything through your bleary eyes besides Logan’s look of determination to get you in your bed.

He leans down, shuffling you out of his arms and onto the mattress as swiftly as possible. The care of it all pokes at your heart. 

He silently goes around each corner of the bed adjusting the blankets. It may be dark, but the moonlight highlights the peaks of his shoulders as he moves. Your eyes might be involuntarily half-shut, but that doesn’t stop you from staring.

You’re now probably no better than every other mutant in this school.

“Logan,” you start before you can fully process the foolish thing you’re about to say next.

He rounds the bed back to the side you’re huddled on, looking down on you. “Yeah?” The subtle jingle of his dog tag pierces the quiet that’s lingering in the room.

You part your lips to speak but the words die in your throat. They’re replaced by a flood of saliva that has you sitting up at a speed that shouldn’t be possible for someone as intoxicated as you. You cover your mouth with your hand, feeling your stomach churning and finally rejecting the tequila. 

You suddenly feel very awake.

“Hey, hey.” Logan squats down in front of you with his already permanently-furrowed brows pinched closer together than you’ve ever seen before, a hand coming to your shoulder in concern. “What—”

“Bathroom,” you mumble through your palm, eyes rolling shut at the nausea. 

He doesn’t say another word. He pulls you to your feet by your arms, walking behind you fiercely with his hands gripping your shoulders to guide you to the small bathroom across the room.  

You push the door open, falling to your knees in the darkness over the toilet as the mistakes from the night expel themselves from your body through rounds of coughing and gagging. He lingers in the doorway, keeping an eye on you but still giving you privacy.

“Fuck,” you cough, resting your warm forehead on your hand as you slump against the toilet. That definitely sobered you up fast.

Exhaustion hits you like a truck. “Logan…” you croak from your crumpled position on the tile floor. 

He steps in, bending down again to reach your height. You can barely make out the shadow of him in the fading moonlight.

“Just…help me back to bed,” you groan, reaching for his arm as you use the toilet seat to push yourself the rest of the way up. You stumble against him as you try to make it back through the doorway.

He guides you to the bed the same way he did to the bathroom—steering you from behind.

“I’m gonna get you some water,” he says as you settle back into bed, head hitting the pillow with a quiet thud. “Even though you did this to yourself.”

“Fuck off,” you groan.

You close your eyes, hearing his footsteps fade back toward the bathroom. You hear the tap run for a couple seconds before he’s next to you again, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Drink. All of it,” he says firmly, holding the cup out to you.

You sit back up slowly, no doubt lethargic, an unimpressed look on your face that earns you a raised brow that tells you there’s no room to object.

You finish the cup in four mouthfuls, handing it back to him. “Thanks.”

You fall back onto the pillow, no longer feeling like you’re travelling through space and time.

The clothes you’re in are close enough to pyjamas. There’s no sense in undressing in front of Logan, especially with what you were about to say to him before you were rudely interrupted by the consequences of your own actions.

He returns the cup to the bathroom and you pull the blanket over your waist as you hopefully settle in for the rest of the night. You owe him big time for this. The thought of just how exactly you’ll manage that fills you with anxiety.

You turn on your side, fingers sliding over the mattress with the movement. They graze familiar strands of feather-soft fabric by the pillow.

This is Logan’s room. Are you just that drunk that you couldn’t tell the difference when he brought you in? Or are your rooms just that similar to each other?

You dip a finger in one of the three holes, hearing the bathroom door click shut as Logan makes his way back. 

“Why am I in your bed?” You see him rustling through some drawers of clothing by the small desk, but he stops when you finish your question.

“You can’t take care of yourself tonight,” he says. “You’re too drunk.” He pulls the grey tank-top off, stuffing it in one of the drawers and shutting it.

You sit up at that, head still foggy and tipsy, watching him move to the foot of the bed across from you. You try to focus your eyes on anything but his bare chest and the dark hair that adorns it and trails down past the waistband of his sweats. His hair is somehow even more wild from mindlessly pulling the tank-top over his head.

“Ah. I was gonna ask you to stay anyway,” you reveal, almost whispering the bold confession.

You were planning to ask before the tequila decided to make another appearance, but maybe doing it this way isn’t so bad either. He did all the heavy-lifting.

A modest, tight-lipped smile graces his lips. “I think you still have some tequila to sleep off.”

Whether or not you still have some shots in your system, what you feel and want right now is real. It’s not influenced by anything besides some mild andronitis created by the fact that you share a common struggle.

“Is it…safe? To share a bed?” The most coherent thought you’ve had all night makes him stiffen from your sudden nervous tone. Your body could easily replace the mattress and become a new home for the deep punctures. 

Your eyelids have been fighting against being pulled shut by alcohol-induced drowsiness, yet your eyes are wider than they’ve been all night in this moment.

You’re sat right in the middle of the bed and Logan comes around to the right, sitting on the edge of the mattress to come down to your level.

“You’re just gonna have to trust me.” His eyes are imploring and apologetic all at once. He understands the prospect of even having you here in the first place.

You nod, sliding over to the left to give him more room. 

Logan wouldn’t put you in harms way, you reason with yourself. He wouldn’t risk potentially killing someone, especially a fellow mutant, if he wasn’t absolutely sure of his mental state. But you also don’t really know his demons.

You roll onto your right side, tugging the blanket up to your chin in comfort. “Why haven’t you been given a new mattress?” You ask as he turns to face you in the same position, his half of the blanket resting at his hip.

The bed dips significantly on his side, almost encouraging you to roll over against him.

“Forgot to ask,” he says quietly, running his right hand through his hair to push the shorter strands off his forehead.

From his tone you can decipher that he actually means “can’t be bothered.” It’s a devastating thing to imagine just how many he goes through, anyway. He probably doesn’t see the point in replacing something that will inevitably have the same fate as the others.

There has to be less than an arms length between you two. It’s a surreal situation to be in considering what you thought you knew about him. A recluse. Standoffish. Maybe it’s all a fluke and the alcohol is severely fucking with your perception of what’s actually happening.

“Thanks for everything,” you whisper as if someone else will overhear.

“Get some sleep,” he insists, rolling onto his back. You do the same.

You stare at the blank ceiling for a while, noticing the exact moment Logan falls asleep; his breathing grows slow and his body runs even hotter than before. 

You think about how he could wake at any moment, claws accidentally sliding right through your stomach from a nightmare or two. You imagine all the others that have been in your position—if they felt scared, if they even knew. 

He asked you to trust him, and that should be enough. 

There is a body full of secrets and hurt sleeping undisturbed next to you with the ability to withstand and regenerate from any physical injury, yet there’s something that hasn’t allowed the same to be done for his mind. 

━━━━

The bright amber sun hits your closed eyes through the window, making you roll your head away onto the other side of the cool pillow.

You want more sleep. Your head feels like a bag of bricks and your body feels like it got beat with them.

You stretch a leg out, gently grazing something solid with your foot. Your eyes shoot open, the night coming back to you as you drift into consciousness. Logan. 

You shoot up, bouncing a little from the momentum.

Logan startles next to you, clearly interrupted from a deep sleep. “What the fuck…” he groans, rubbing a hand over his face, not seeming interested in making a move to sit up with you.

“What time is it?” Your eyes bounce around the room looking for a clock.

He grunts, reaching for a watch on the nightstand. “Seven-forty.”

You needed to be in the Danger Room for 7 o’clock.

“Fuck!” You rip the blanket off, almost tripping as you run to the bathroom.

Logan also wants to roll back over and go back to sleep, but he knows he won’t be able to. He doesn’t work like that. So he just lays there, listening to you swear and make a mess of his bathroom as the clattering of fuck-knows-what fills the room. 

The surprise of how well he slept makes him feel uneasy. Although it definitely wasn’t eight hours, it was uninterrupted. He doesn’t want to credit that to you, though. He wants to believe that he’s getting better overall, and maybe he is, so he can’t offer you any flattery in his mind.

Another distant “fuck” escapes the bathroom, pulling him out of his thoughts. You exit a few minutes later, as refreshed and presentable as you could get yourself, and the sight of Logan still in bed makes something in you ache for another moment of feeling him care and tend to you. Maybe that’s your hangover talking.

“Thanks again. I’ll see you around,” you say hurriedly, offering an apologetic smile as you turn the doorknob to leave.

“Good luck with Charles.” It’s a genuine advisory. Fuck. You’ll be so incredibly lucky if he doesn’t give you more than a stern lecture in front of everyone.

You take a deep breath in and slip out of Logan’s room. There’s not a single cut, mark, or scratch on you, just like he promised.

━━━━ ● ━━━━

“I was told it’ll take a day to fix,” Storm explains with a shrug. “You’ll have to find somewhere or someone to room with until tomorrow. Jean already offered to have me stay with her.” A contrite look passes over her face.

You stand outside your rooms, staring in at the remnants of the mess caused by two terrakinetic kids fucking around in the courtyard when they weren’t supposed to be. They somehow managed to throw, or launch, sizeable tree branches right through each of your windows. Of course it wasn’t on purpose, but the Danger Room exists for a reason—to avoid mishaps like this. 

Shards of glass and fragments of wood splatter your floors. The branches are hanging half-way out both of your windows, caught on the window sills and bobbing in the evening summer wind. The kids are extremely fortunate that neither of you were in your rooms when it happened.

“It’s fine. It’s just one night,” you sigh, rubbing your eyes in frustration. You don’t love how quickly your mind picks out who to go to. It’s already nearing 11 p.m., so you have to work fast. 

Storm squeezes your shoulder in comfort. “The living room is always free,” she suggests with a remorseful smile.

But you don’t want the living room. Stiff couches mixed with students clamouring and passing by at the crack of dawn isn’t exactly a recipe for a good nights rest. As if you usually get one, anyway.

“Not a fucking chance,” you laugh. “I’ll be fine,” you say again, dismissing her worries. You wish her goodnight when she steps by you to head towards Jean’s room at the very end of the hall.

You glare at the mess in your room, not daring to step in. The amount of shattered glass everywhere makes the floor look like a body of water from the reflections of the pale moonlight bouncing and refracting off of the jagged shards.

“Fuck,” you spit through your teeth, solely to yourself.

Not even a full week after Logan saw you at your worst, you’re going to go back and ask for the left side of his bed. Shameless.

You don’t have much of a choice; you’re not comfortable having it be anyone else. It’s only because Logan saw you at your worst that you feel he’s the most logical choice. Already having shared a bed with him this week may also have some weight in your decision.  

You take the few self-assured steps to his room, once again standing in front of his door. This time you feel more confident in approaching the Wolverine in his den.

You knock three times, the piercing sound echoing through the hall.

“You start to miss me or what?” A bare chest enters your view. You note the dog tag hanging from his neck again before you find his unyielding gaze full of ambiguity, wondering why you’re here. Again.

You blink at him slowly in hilarity. “Ha, funny. Can I stay with you tonight?” You ask flatly, not thrilled with the situation, but not completely displeased with being here now. “My window—”

“I know what happened,” he interrupts. “Figured you’d go for the couch in the living room.” He looks at you more pointedly with teasing suspicion. 

“I think you know no one would ever willingly choose to sleep out there,” you reason, running a hand over your face in both shame and defeat.

He makes a face that tells you “touché” and you smirk in satisfaction. “If you don’t mind giving up half of your bed again, I would really appreciate it. I promise I’m not trying to make this a habit,” you sigh. Spending the night in Logan’s bed three times in the past month has to be a record for anyone recently. 

“I don’t think it would be a bad habit,” he argues. Oh. “C’mon.” He gives a jerk of his head to allow you in, his tufts of his hair bristling with the quick movement.

“Thanks,” you squeak. He wants you here? 

He shuts the door behind you, following you to the bed that’s clearly already had him in it. The blanket rests in waves on the mattress that remind you of just how human Logan is despite his reputation and image.

“Do you have an early morning?” You ask, slipping under the blanket.

“No. Charles was feeling nice for once,” he raises his tone sarcastically to rag on Charles’ judgement, which has clearly been a much needed one before now.

“Not an early bird?” You roll onto your right side like last time, facing him as he settles on his back with a deep breath. The bed sinks in again where he lays, your body wanting to give in to the laws of gravity and fall into him.

“Fuck no,” he laughs lightly, eyes crinkling around the corners. It’s self-deprecating, but it’s still a genuine laugh. The condescension from it lingers in the air, all directed at himself in a way that tells you he’s thinking about how inconceivably fucked up he is.

The last time he had a decent sleep was when you were drunk in his bed a few days ago.

“People like us don’t usually get the pleasure of a full eight hours,” he notes, sliding his gaze to yours for a fraction of a second.

He props an arm behind his head, the other resting on his chest and idly twisting the dog tag between his fingers. You watch the thin piece of steel slide and flip easily, the chain tinkling with every movement.

People like us.

“You mean mutants,” you state. You see his jaw tense in what little light there is from the half-moon tonight.

You see his brows pull together. “Yeah.” He has a point.

You think about the mutants you know, how they all have some horrific story about their gifts or family, or both. How they either were shamed by society or experimented on like rats. 

The scenarios are endless. If you can think of it, some mutant has probably lived it.

Your heart sinks to the bottom of your stomach. You and Logan are not isolated or special cases, but you’ve already shared a moment of vulnerability with him when you came to his door all those weeks ago seeking solace for the same thing he fights with: the inescapable ability of remembering.

You pull the blanket tighter against you. “I don’t think you’ll hurt me.” 

He turns his head to you, confusion written on his face. “What?” He stops toying with the dog tag.

“Your claws. I trust you.” You didn’t feel like you were in immediate danger that first night, but you want to reassure him anyway. Or maybe you’re reassuring yourself. 

He hasn’t had to say a single word for you to know his nightmares trigger something instinctive and combative that’s been hardwired into his DNA. In this case, it’s his claws needing to find a home in his mattresses, where another body could potentially lay one night. Like yours is right now.

You noticed the lack of holes in this mattress when you first got to the bed. Maybe you mentioning them last time was enough for him to finally request a new one.

Logan knows he shouldn’t make promises he doesn’t know he’ll be able to keep, but he wants to keep you here tonight, so he improvises. He abandons the dog tag between his fingers completely, turning onto his side and reaching to find your hand under the blanket. You meet him halfway, sliding your fingers between his as your palms lay flat on the bed.

A smile tugs at your lips for a moment. He watches your interlinked fingers, observing the size difference, wondering if he really just did that—and why. 

You assume it’s his way of saying “thank you” for your trust when you probably shouldn’t be putting that much into him.

“Does it hurt?” You whisper, pulling your fingers out from his just enough to caress the divets between his knuckles that conceal the claws.

He knows what you’re asking. “Every time.” He softly pushes his fingers back into yours, squeezing a little. 

There’s a deadly stillness in the room despite his window being cracked. You both know you’re one in the same in a way, and that’s a connection that Logan hasn’t let himself experience. Not everyone likes looking in a mirror.

To be truly seen by someone, wholly, without judgement or fear, is what he deserves. 

“What are you?” He asks, rubbing his index finger back and forth along the top of your hand. “Telekinetic? Psychic?” His curious voice grows quiet, hazel eyes fascinated with you and your lack of a physical mutation, at least nothing that he can see.

It never occurred to you that he didn’t know your mutation, or that you’ve never told him. It was never needed, but it seems unfair that you know about his when he wasn’t the one who told you.

“Ha, close.” Your eyes twinkle as you notice how intently he’s listening. “Psychometric,” you correct, watching his forehead crease.

“Sounds like math,” he quips, readjusting his head on the pillow. He’s close enough that you can feel the heat he’s putting off.

You laugh quietly. “No, it’s extrasensory perception. It lets me see the history of any object or person I touch, but only if I accept the energy,” you explain.

You watch his eyes narrow and you know what he’s thinking, so you quickly interject as he begins to pull his hand out from yours. “I need to touch a pulse point to be able to see anything,” you reassure, feeling his fingers slide back against yours. “The heart remembers everything,” you clarify.

The catch? The person’s memories and past stay with you after you see them. It’s become hard to distinguish what memories are yours or someone else’s. They all become intertwined. Good or bad, violent or gentle. You see it all, and then it’s part of you. Forever.

“I haven’t looked. I promise.” 

“Good. You don’t need to see that shit,” he huffs, eyes wandering over your face. He isn’t sure what he’s looking for, but he’s a little startled for the first time in a while.

“I’m sure I’ve seen it all,” you state. It’s probably not far off from the truth. Your gift came when you were all too young, and plenty of time has passed since then for you to rack up this amount of damage from near-strangers and their lives.

“No, you haven’t.” A sure expression passes over him, shaking his head as best as he can against the pillow. 

“Then I’ll count myself lucky,” you say softly. You have no idea what Logan has experienced, but his demeanor makes you want to stay curious. Not everything needs to be known, and you’re definitely not entitled to it.

A faint smile appears on his lips, then it’s gone just as quick. “Get some sleep,” he rasps. He turns onto his back and his hand abandons yours. 

It’s a complete repeat of last time.

Something twinges in your heart, and you don’t like it. What exactly had you expected from Logan? He’s just doing you a courtesy by letting you stay here for the night. Nothing more. And that’s what you should expect: nothing.

The hum of crickets outside eventually lulls you into a dead sleep. It’s heavy and deep, not a single muscle twitching in your body. Logan breathes steadily next to you, a hand on his chest as the occasional snore fills the air.

From above you two might look like you’re transient, only here in this moment for a short time. And, realistically, you are. 

━━━━

Logan was no where to be seen by the time you woke up, and you made quick work to get out of his room. It always feel wrong to be in someone’s space when they aren’t there.

Just like Storm said, the windows in your rooms were fixed the next day. It looks as though nothing even happened.

“Thank fuck,” you mumble to yourself as you step back into your room.

If you ever have to spend another night in Logan’s bed, you might as well wear a shirt that says “yes, we’re fucking!”, even if it isn’t true. You could deny it all you want, but it won’t stop what students would say. Nothing gets past them, even if it’s behind a closed door.

━━━━ ● ━━━━

“Are you fucking Logan?”

You almost swallow your tongue. “Sorry?” Your brows shoot up in surprise, eyes round in disbelief.

“Are you guys sleeping together?” Storm casually asks as she flicks through the T.V. channels, glancing over to you from her spot on the couch.

You’re sat comfortably in an arm chair, suddenly no longer caring what channel she decides on. “Why would you think that?” Technically you were sleeping together, but not like that. It may never happen again, no matter how badly you want it to.

“Things travel fast around here,” she deflects with a cheeky smile. “And, you know, Logan is…Logan.” She shrugs.

You don’t even know what to say to that. Is there a right or wrong answer?

“It wasn’t like that,” you grumble. “He was doing me a favour. As a friend.” It hasn’t even been a full day since he let you stay with him while pieces of your window laid on your floor, and people are already convinced you’re fucking. 

You haven’t even managed a chaste kiss, despite how much as you want to, never mind his dick being balls deep in you.

“Right.” She emphasizes the word, not convinced. Or just pushing your buttons because she can. 

You roll your eyes. “If anything was happening, you’d be the first to know,” you point out. 

She looks back over to you. “I know,” she says with another, more sincere, smile. “You two would be cute, though.” 

You give her some side-eye, not quite sure if you disagree entirely with that statement. Whatever happens, happens. Logan is not something you can control or influence. He does what—and who—he wants, when he wants. 

━━━━

A bolt of lightening strikes you. You gasp, then release a choked cry, eyes flying open as you claw at your chest in terror.

Your throat tightens and you break out in a cold sweat as you sit up. The soft blanket around you feels constricting. Sporadic and short breaths make you heave as your body registers the horrors in your subconscious. 

There was never any lighting. That’s just what the pain feels like.

The muscles in your shoulders and neck tense from your panicked state as your heart struggles to keep a normal rhythm. You yank the blanket off, feeling weak from fear and the onset of tremors. Your whole body gives up on itself as you sob through broken exhales. Your legs have gone cold, lungs shrinking inch by inch with every passing minute. 

You crawl to the edge of your bed, wanting to just get out and leave—the blanket. The bed. The room. Most of all, you want to escape your own mind.

You sink onto the floor when a foot touches the ground, and you realize walking isn’t in the cards right now. You’re shaking too badly to be able to physically move. All your strength is gone, robbed by your memories.

Balmy tears paint your face in determination, making sure no part of you is left untouched by this spell.

You screw your eyes shut, tears still slipping out with ease anyway. Leaning your back against the bed-frame, you curl into yourself and wrap your arms around your knees on the chilled hardwood.

You try to focus on your breathing to at least slow your heart down to a pace that doesn’t hurt.

Wounded cries rip their way out of you, interrupting the breaths you try to steady. A hand touches your arm and you yelp like an injured dog, flailing at the contact as your arms swing out from around your knees in shock.

“Hey, hey, it’s me. It’s me.” Strong hands quickly wrap around each of your wrists to stop your arms from thrashing.

You try to focus your eyes, blurred and stinging from tears, on the person kneeling closely in front of you.

“L-Logan…” you whisper, balling your fists to try and expel the shakes.

He looks like someone who shouldn’t be able to be concerned about another person, yet the look on his face scares you. Brows pinched together in worry, eyes frantic, lips parted from heavy breaths. All because of you.

“It’s just me,” he hushes your cries. His thumbs stroke the undersides of your wrists tenderly, no doubt feeling your racing pulse. 

You feel disoriented. “Wh…how…” 

“I heard you,” he explains, watching you process everything. He drops your wrists when some recognition passes over your face.

“What do you need?” He follows your gaze as it wanders around the room, trying to keep you from spiralling further.

You look at him for a moment. He’s got his white tank-top on, the black sweats, and an intense need to help you written all over him. Fresh tears burn your cheeks as you come back into reality.

“I want it to fucking stop,” you weep, head falling into your hands in shame.

You don’t want him to see you like this, even though it’s a commonality between you two. It’s too intimate. You’d take him seeing you blackout drunk everyday of the year over this.

Then you do remember that it has stopped. Each time in Logan’s bed. There was silence. Peace. For the whole night. For both of you.

“Tell me what you need,” he says firmly, angling his head down to keep your eyes on him, desperately wanting an answer.

“You.” You suck in an agonizing breath to try and collect yourself.

He doesn’t flinch like you expect him to. If anything, his eyes become more pensive, clearly considering something. Then he shakes his head in wariness.

“C’mon. Let’s get you out of here,” he breathes, voice barely above a whisper. The only sound echoing in the room is your wobbly breathes, your body jerking with each one as you enter the aftermath and begin to go slack.

An arm slides behind your back, his hand grabbing ahold of your side while he pulls your legs over his other arm, picking you up off the floor.

He cradles you against him just like he did when you were drunk, carrying you out of your room.

He left your door open when he came in, and you hope no students heard or saw anything. He tilts to grab the doorknob, shutting it without a sound.

You wipe and rub at your eyes as Logan takes a few steps down the hall, quickly getting to where he needs to go when you feel him lean for his doorknob.

You’re sure a few rogue, leftover tears fall onto his shirt before he manages to sit on his bed lightly, you still curled tightly in his arms. 

His hand pushes on your back for you to sit upright on his lap. “Face me,” he encourages, holding onto your sides as you twist around, bending your legs to slide over his thighs and straddle him loosely. 

You look down at him, he looks up at you, feeling the quivers in your body dissipate as you melt further into his lap. A fondness crosses over both of your tired faces. He rests his arms over your thighs, warm hands linking behind your back as you do the same around his neck. 

It’s nothing provocative or seductive. All you can feel is the care and concern rolling off of him in suffocating waves. He wants you to feel safe, and if that means overrunning your senses with his presence, then that’s what he’ll do.

“Got anything to say?” He murmurs, the fallen strands of hair around the edges of his forehead bristle with each move of his head. The rest of his hair fails to fully resemble the cat-like ears he had earlier in the day. 

What does he want to hear? 

You let your head hang a little, your nose almost brushing his. “I have nothing to say,” you assert, fidgeting with the chain of his dog tag at the nape of his neck. 

You don’t necessarily feel embarrassed about him seeing you in such a helpless state, but you don’t want to simply unload your shit on him. So, in turn, you have nothing to say.

“Bullshit.” He almost rolls his eyes. There’s no real threat of him forcing you to say anything behind it. He won’t pry, but he doesn’t believe you.

An offended look overcomes your face, and you almost pull away. You don’t want to feel the humiliation of elaborating on just why exactly you said you needed him in this moment out of everything else. 

“I just…” You roll your lips together in thought, measuring the words you could say but won’t. “Want to sleep. Here,” you sigh. “I don’t wanna go back.” You deflate in his arms, voice wobbly. 

It’s already who-knows what time, and you need to pacify your wired nervous system; Logan simply holding you has already helped with that more than you want to admit.

His mouth quirks up briefly at that. “What happened to not wanting to make that a habit?” His eyes soften as his arms retract from around your sides, letting you slip easily onto his bed from his lap in a moment of calm, or relief.

Habit, if not resisted, soon becomes necessity.

“Special circumstances,” you reason, already pulling the blanket over you while he keeps his place at the edge of the bed, observing you with amusement.

“Seems like you get into those a lot,” he notes, pushing himself off the mattress.

He steps around to the other side—his designated spot—and slips the tank-top off, letting it drop to the floor. You’re not trying to be a freak, but you watch the whole thing.

The flex of his arms and shoulders are out of your mind as fast as they entered as you watch him hook his thumbs in the waistband of his sweats and pull them downright in front of you, not even turning around or to the side to try and conceal himself.

Your eyes widen, then you reel in your thoughts before they get lost at sea. No one who is sane fucking sleeps in sweatpants. Duh.

But didn’t he the last two times? It’s hard for you to remember, but you’d certainly recall if you were face-to-face with the outline of his di—

“It’s rude to stare, y’know.” Logan pulls his lips together, interrupting your thoughts. You try to not eyeball the bulge too hard, but it basically looked at you first. 

The snug briefs do little to hide anything. They hide nothing, actually.

You almost scoff, but the playfulness in his tone tells you he couldn’t give a shit. He probably likes it anyway. From what you know, he definitely does.

“Oh, yeah, like you’ve ever cared about modesty,” you throw back, averting your gaze to the ceiling anyway.

It’s not that he runs around the mansion naked, but he definitely isn’t shy about what he looks like or against showing some skin. You’ve seen and heard enough over the past few months.

You hear a stifled chuckle as he joins you under the blanket without a retort. He knows you’re right. He’s just glad you’re a little lively and alert.

“Will you be okay for the rest of the night?” He brings both hands behind his head on the pillow, propping himself up a little.

“I should be fine,” you say confidently. “The challenge will be getting back to sleep.” You laugh in exasperation. 

It’s always hard to calm down and get back to a place of tranquility after everything has settled with your mind. You’re pumped full of adrenaline and there’s not much that can curb something that persistent flowing through your body.

You haven’t found anything to help with it. Yet. 

“There’s not many people that’ll understand what you go through,” he starts, voice rough with fatigue. “But I do.”

You look to him, sliding an arm under your pillow as you turn on your side. “How do you…help it.” You’re not sure if you phrased that right. It feels crude to reduce something so complex to the likes of a common cold that has an array of over-the-counter solutions. 

“You don’t. It just has to run its course.” He looks to you, wanting to see your reaction. 

It wasn’t meant to be hurtful or insensitive, but he’s not going to lie to you and say that things can only get better and that the worst is over. Especially for mutants, that’s not always true.

Although you don’t know what Logan lives with every day and sleeps with every night, you do know that his capacity for empathy is still intact. Here you are in his bed after all, seeing and indulging in a side of him that many never will. 

You sigh lightly. “We’re quite the pair.” 

A comfortable half-smirk slips over his lips. “I think we’re just fucked up insomniacs,” he suggests with a breathy exhale that’s close enough to a laugh.

You wish you could slide a thumb over the pulse in his wrist and see what’s haunting him, just to understand what happened to the Wolverine, but you’ve learned that doing so usually isn’t worth the price you’ll pay after. If what’s in his head is horrific enough to cause him to go through a couple mattresses a month, then it won’t do you any good either.

“I sleep pretty good with you,” you offer, seeing how he raises a brow in doubt almost instantly.

He sleeps well with you, too. It kind of rattled him when he noticed a pattern of uninterrupted nights and you being by his side. Not a single mattress ruined on those nights.

“Try not to knee me in the stomach tonight,” he deflects with ease. He takes his hands out from behind his head, sliding his left arm under the pillow as he turns over onto his side and closes his eyes. Facing you.

You mentally smack yourself. Multiple times. You didn’t think you drifted that much when you slept. 

“No promises,” you mutter. You catch a small shake of his head before you let yourself join him in unconsciousness as you mirror each others lonely bodies.

━━━━

Your eyes ache—to open, to move, to touch. Enough crying will do that to you.Your eyelids are heavy, but there’s something else weighing down on you. 

A tired groan crawls from your throat as you try to place yourself for a moment. The morning sun is just beginning to shine too brightly for your liking, and you squish your face deeper into the pillow.

You’re still tipsy with sleep, lying flat on your stomach, but there’s something dense and hot resting over your back. 

You prop yourself up on your forearms, giving yourself a minute to wake up. You twist your hips around to sit yourself up, feeling the thing on your back slide down to your waist. 

The blanket pools around your hips, and you feel a hand reflexively squeeze over the meat of your hip in disapproval of your moving. Something in you clenches at the sensation of something invading the area with ease. A spot reserved for intimacy.

Your head quirks to your right, seeing Logan on his stomach with his right arm thrown over your midsection. 

You blink in surprise, staring at his sleeping body. His hair is sticking up every which way, his head half-off the pillow, his side of the blanket not even covering the curve of his ass anymore. It’s endearing to see the Wolverine in such a normal, human state.

But if someone were to walk in, it would look like you two spent the whole night fucking. A lot. That wakes you up a little more.

You peek over at the nightstand behind him and see the time blinking on his watch. It’s already 8 a.m. 

You rest a hand over his shoulder to gently guide his arm off of you, but you stop yourself. Instead, you lightly trace your fingers down his shoulders and upper back a couple times, occasionally scratching softly over the ridges of muscle.

A shiver quickly rolls through his upper body, but your touch doesn’t fully wake him. He knows it’s just you.

It’s the least you can do for him as a thanks for recovering your broken body from the floor of your room and bringing you here when he didn’t necessarily have to.

It almost feels like instinct to offer comforting gestures to him. There’s something inside you that just pulls to him. You want to be the one that can give him comfort and help him put himself back together. 

You want to be the only one.

━━━━ ● ━━━━

There’s a shadow that’s been following you around the mansion. 

As soon as you stepped out of Logan’s room that morning a few days ago, it started. 

This shadow likes to be nosy about what you’re doing. This shadow likes to be in your space. This shadow wants to be in your space. And he is.

No one has seen Logan out around the mansion this much, including you, and that’s how you noticed he’s basically been attached to your hip ever since he decided your back was a comfortable armrest. 

He’s always just there, like a stray cat begging for food or affection. There to entertain you, banter with you, indulge you, in any way he can, including now as you trail back inside the mansion well behind Storm from an evening walkabout in the garden.

“No smoking in the courtyard,” you sing as you pass him carelessly, not even offering a glance to him in interest. 

You like playing this game. Whatever it is. Constantly poking and prodding at each other to see what you can do to get the other to break in some way, no matter how slight. 

Your heart flutters and flips every time; maybe from the thrill of it all, maybe from the arousal you get from the tension. You hope he feels everything, too.

He turns his head to watch you cross into the entryway. “Blow me,” he throws back playfully through a thick puff of smoke, leaning against the brick wall with a cigar pinched between two fingers.

You suppress a chuckle, keeping your unwavering pace. “Yeah, you wish!” You yell over your shoulder. You know he hears you. He wouldn’t let himself miss it.

Logan smirks and shakes his head in amusement, always impressed with your quick rebuttals that occasionally tent his jeans. He takes one last drag out of spite before following your footsteps inside. 

You have become, by definition, friends…in a way. Even if you sorely cross the line into other territory more often than not. Sexual innuendos and friendly flirting can only go on for so long before the underlying intentions and meaning reflects real desires. 

It’s evolved into more than just borrowing his bed a couple times or helping each other out. It’s surpassed the fear of whatever habit you were afraid of forming from doing so. It’s become a dependency to get that adrenaline high from simply riling each other up.

You have an assumption that if you were to end up in Logan’s bed again, somehow, there will be a point of no return that you’ll be faced with. There aren’t many more excuses that can be used for explaining to yourselves why you’re together in bed before you have to recognize the truth.

That platonic line is being stretched too thin, and you’re not sure how much farther it can go.

━━━━ ● ━━━━

“How’ve you been sleeping?”

“Fine. You?”

“Could be better.” Logan hides his smirk, but you can hear it in his voice.

You narrow your eyes skeptically as he fishes around in the fruit bowl sitting in the middle of the kitchen island.

“How so?” You ask. Your legs swing leisurely as you sit upon the chilled countertop on his left, idly waiting for Storm to show up and go with you to training.

A smug, tight-lipped grin flashes across his face, a green apple rolling around in his palms before he puts it back. “You could be there,” he provokes, his eyes bright.

It’s your turn to raise a brow at him, but you can’t stop your smile. “Oh?”

He turns to you, tenderly grabbing the tops of your thighs and parting them slightly to stand between your legs.

This isn’t the first time he’s done this, and he knows it rouses you in all the right ways. But, neither of you will do anything about it. Not even a brief kiss.

“Come on,” he goads, planting his hands down next to your hips, bringing himself in closer as he bears his weight on his arms. “You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.” He sways his head side to side to emphasize his point.

Fuck. That’s good. 

That may be exactly what you did for him, but it’s now a figure of speech for something else entirely. It’s almost impossible to argue against either way, as if you want to. This is what you’ve been patiently waiting for. 

You put your hands over his as you lean back a little to put some distance between you. “How sweet,” you hum.

His eyes flick from yours to your lips one too many times before you continue. “You start to miss me?” You tease as you lean forward again, echoing what he said to you the night your window got smashed in.

“Smart-ass,” he mutters as you laugh quietly. The tips of your noses barely graze each other as he steps in closer again. You’re almost at the same height like this. 

“Save me the left side,” you advise, bringing your hands to his shoulders as you fondle his white t-shirt between your fingers. You’re so close, and he’s already so warm against you just like this.

“Always do.”

━━━━

You want to rip your heart out of your chest from how hard it’s pounding against your ribs. It’s almost throwing you forward with each heavy beat.

Three resounding knocks fill the hallway as you shuffle on your feet, waiting for Logan to open the door.

It feels like you’re doing something bad. Something parents would warn their kids against. Something greatly envied.

Everything inside you feels on fire. Your thoughts, desires, anxiety, all jumbling together into one distorted state of mind and body.

“Ah, welcome back.” His sarcastic tone makes your face go hot. A satisfied smirk crosses his lips as he runs a hand through his shaggy, unstyled hair. 

You shake your head, pursing your lips. “Knock it off.” You gently shove at his bare chest. Misbehaviour already. But are you really surprised?

Logan grabs your wrist, delicately guiding you into his room. “You enjoy it,” he says lowly, quickly shutting the door as soon as you’re in. 

“Maybe,” you hum in response, pulling away from his grasp and seeking out your side of the bed. Logan follows closely behind, giving your ass a light smack in encouragement before he cuts away to his side while you jolt in shock, a stunned look on your face as you whip your head around to him across the bed.

“Oh, really?” You scoff. He’s biting back a smile, not moving until he knows what you’ll do next. He’s never gone that far before.

“I’m sorry, that was rude—how can I make it up to you?” He almost chokes on a laugh, pulling his dog tag back and forth along the chain while he considers you.

This Logan is very different from the one you were met with the first night he let you in his space. This one is attentive and exuberant, yet he hasn’t given you much up until this point right now. You’ve gotten way too comfortable with him without even doing anything to you. 

In this moment, he isn’t the brooding, animalistic Wolverine many see him as. He’s just Logan—for you. 

You watch him carefully, easing yourself onto the bed. “Get in the fucking bed,” you slap his side of the mattress with a thump of your palm. “And do what you promised earlier,” you stare pointedly at him.

He owes you that “you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours” favour he decided to pull out to get you here. 

“Mm, alright, alright,” he surrenders, a look of amusement still on his face as he kneels onto the bed. “I thought of a pretty good idea for it,” he says softly, crawling to sit next to you on top of the blanket as the bed-frame creaks with the added weight.

Your shoulders almost brush against each other. You shift, turning your body fully toward him. “Oh? Wh—woah!”

You squeal when his strong hands latch onto your sides, lifting you just enough to pull you over his legs to plant you on his lap. He leans back against the headboard, pulling on your thighs so you straddle him tightly. 

He looks devilish when you catch his gaze again, and you know what’s coming. What’s been coming. Your hands find their places on his shoulders, warm and taut, as his hands hold your hips. 

The bond between you will culminate tonight. It will be wrapped in a blanket and trapped between two alike souls that lie heart-to-heart in the dead of night. It will be perpetual.

The heat of him between your legs makes you restless. It’s just you, him, and the darkness in the quiet room you’ve become too familiar with.

“Logan…” you trail off bashfully when you feel something firm through his sweats poke against your cunt. It clearly doesn’t take much to excite him.

“Hm?” He takes you in for a split second, hands running from your hips up to your chest leisurely with a sharp inhale, not yet completely bothered by the fact that you have a shirt on. 

You suck in a shaky breath when your hips accidentally shift over his bulge from his hands pushing and pulling over you.

“What’s the idea?” Your voice wavers.

You know what it is. He knows that. You just want to hear him say it and fill the silence.

“Something I’ve wanted for a while,” he murmurs, eyes hyper-focused on you. 

Your fingers dance their way to the sides of his neck, brushing along the supple skin while you feel muscles and tendons flex with every slight movement. You subtly press the pad of your index finger against the pulse point right under his jaw, just to ground yourself and truly feel that Logan is there in front of you. 

His pulse is steady but hard, much like yours, and the prickle of energy festering against the finger almost makes it go numb from not accepting it into your body. 

“Show me, then.” You smile sweetly, leaning in closer while you tilt his head up with the hand under his jaw, your finger slipping from his pulse and caressing over the dense, coarse hair along his cheek.

Your noses bump while your lips part in anticipation. His eyes flutter as he falls into you and frantically claims your mouth in an unbreakable kiss.

The first kiss. Nothing could tear him from you in this moment.

Your hands cradle his cheeks, keeping him from pulling off too far. His hands scratch and paw at your back, trying to find a way to somehow get you closer against him.

It’s all a little messy, your lips mostly just mashing together without any rhyme or reason, but neither of you care. You only care about how electrifying it feels to finally have Logan and feel how perfectly connected you are together after all these nights. You go together like a key and its lock.

“Logan,” you pant when his mouth releases yours for a fraction of a breath. The seconds between kisses dwindle the more you take from each other.

Your thighs tense as he pulls half an inch away just to reconnect more crazed as his lips lock over your bottom one aimlessly. Something deep inside you trembles and aches.

He grunts, accidentally sucking the tip of your tongue briefly before slotting his lips back over yours in an apology. “Hold on,” he mumbles in a rush against your parted lips. He knows what you’re asking—or trying to ask. He snakes an arm up along your spine and wraps the other around your waist.

Then the world is tilting.

He drops you on your back on the bed from his lap, hovering over you as he distracts you with harsh but pleasing kisses and wet bites along your neck, settling his hips heavily between your thighs. You squirm and feel how bolts of arousal are making your cunt pulse involuntarily. 

Logan groans. “Fuck—I can smell it. I smell you.” He slowly grinds his hips into yours almost reflexively. He squeezes his eyes shut, and you tip your chin up to press a chaste kiss to his slick lips. 

“Taste…if you want to,” you propose, lightly scratching up and down his shoulders and arms, only enough to leave faint red lines for a couple seconds.

Logan’s eyes almost roll into the back of his head before he gives it a small shake, a conflicted look overtaking his face. “Of course I fucking want to, but—fuck—next time. I promise.” He swallows whatever you were going to say with a deep kiss that has you nearly shaking when he sucks on your bottom lip. 

“Let’s just take things easy,” he says roughly, bearing his weight on his left arm while he tries to get your sleep shorts and underwear off.

A promise of a next time makes your brain go fuzzy like static.

“I’ll hold you to it, then,” you resolve, lifting your hips as much as you can for him to lean back and pull away to wrestle your clothes the rest of the way down your legs, discarding them just as quickly.

“I hope you will,” he breathes through a small laugh as he shuffles on his knees. He doesn’t want to completely overwhelm you and scare you off, he just wants to enjoy you in a simple way that won’t entirely ruin you for tomorrow.

He doesn’t know what you can or cannot handle, but he’s going to find out.

The fresh air in the room brushes cooly against your wet cunt. It’s a nice contrast to how fiery your whole body feels, but Logan feels even warmer than you somehow. Maybe wolverine’s just run hot.

His sweats have ridden down his hips from his desperate grinding against you, and the dangerous cut of his v-line grows more and more narrow as the waistband teases the reveal of what’s underneath.

You watch him—palming his dick once as your knees sway side-to-side in waiting. His thumbs hook under the stretchy fabric, working what remains of his clothes down his sturdy thighs.

“It’s rude to stare.” He pops a brow, a smug, arrogant grin quirking his lips.

You push yourself to sit up, considerably shorter than him in this position as he stands on his knees, and walk two fingers up his toned stomach to his chest, avoiding the hard cock between you. 

He looks at you with curiosity until your hand grabs his dog tag in a fist, pulling it towards you. “Then stop showing me your dick,” you say as he leans in to your pulling a little to not have the chain break away.

You knew the night Logan dropped his pants in front of you and let you eye-up his bulge would come back to haunt you. But it’s alluring. Big. Curves a little to the left, barely noticeable. A respectable amount of hair decorates the space between his bellybutton and the base of his cock.

He gives in to the tension on the chain, falling back to the mattress with you and trapping you between his arms as his cock rests heavy on your clit.

“How about I find somewhere to put it?” His smile pushes a whole new wave of arousal from you.

“It would be a damn shame if you didn’t,” you say against his mouth, giving your hips a roll just to tease him before hugging his waist tightly with your knees.

“Good.” He gives you a strong kiss with a small grunt, running his hands over your sides under your shirt. The movement pushes it up, up, up, until you have no choice but to stretch your arms out above you and let him slide it off between more thoughtless kisses, leaving you entirely bare.

He lets you breathe for a moment, dipping his head to bite and suck marks along your collarbones messily. You squeeze around his hips harder, trying to get him to give you something other than his scratchy cheeks rubbing against your skin and the chilled steel of the dog tag dragging over your chest.

The tip of his cock falls and catches over your clit when he moves lower, licking and sucking over your chest like a starved animal finding food for the first time in a week. You gasp from the mixed sensations.

“C’mon, kitty cat, you can do all this while inside m-me,” you say breathily, fingers digging into his shoulders to stop yourself from trembling too much. 

Logan bites over a nipple before pulling himself back up to look at you. “Is that a promise?” He says lowly, that stupid smirk gracing his face again.

“Try it and find out,” you demand, enjoying the sting of the deeper bites blooming on your torso.

He purses his lips, shifting his weight back onto his knees to grab ahold of his cock to angle and guide it in.

“Hm, guess no lube is needed,” he muses when he gets a look at your cunt, sparing you a glance through his lashes.

You roll your eyes shut when your whole body lights up red-hot. “Jesus fucking Christ, Logan,” you slap a hand over your eyes as you grimace. You don’t want to be that aware of your naked self right now.

He suppresses whatever expression was about to cross his face when his cock notches itself between your soaked folds, teasing your hole with the blunt tip. His brows pinch together and you forget the embarrassment from his crude remark.

But he leaves his cock like that, on the precipice of sliding the rest of the way in with a snap of his hips. Instead, he carefully uncurls his upper body to crawl his way back up to you while holding his hips deathly still.

“Alright, stay with me,” he whispers against your neck when you moan, pressing a tender kiss to your rabid pulse in reassurance. 

“O-okay,” you sigh, running a hand through his hair and tugging at the roots while the other squeezes around his arm as best as it can. You’re not even really sure what he’s saying.  

He kisses up your cheek and over to your lips again. You try to keep up with his quick mouth, licking and sucking whatever part you can get ahold of, but you’ve become lost in the feeling of him all over you. 

He’s in your mouth, on your chest, against your stomach, nudging your cunt. Everywhere.

He slips his tongue over yours, securing your lips together at the same time he pushes his cock in halfway. Now you understand what he was saying. 

The lightheadedness from being filled, even just a bit, almost makes you lose yourself. The stretch makes your stomach drop, your legs shake, and your mouth fall open with a whine. 

“A-ah—fuck. Fuck, Logan,” you whimper, fisting his hair with both hands to stop yourself from falling apart.

He groans, either at the grip you have on his hair or how good your cunt feels already, and runs a hand up your left thigh in comfort as you squeeze around his hips tighter to draw him in. 

“Just a bit more,” he soothes, trying to resist the urge to slide into you in one fell swoop. It would be so easy to just let his hips fall into yours and fill your cunt.

Another heated kiss, another few inches. He works his cock into you the rest of the way with ease. You guess the lube thing wasn’t really a joke. His hungry, needy kisses may have also helped with that.

You choke on your gasps, not wanting to get too loud, and Logan does the same. He tries to muffle both of your moans with his mouth, attempting to form complete kisses, but it just turns into you panting against each other as he finally bottoms out, hitting his end. 

Your legs relax around his waist as he deftly rocks his hips in small thrusts to get you familiar with his size, his small grunts filling the air each time you swallow him whole.

You let out a deep breath, dropping your hands back to his tense shoulders. He lines your jaw with soft kisses, fisting the blanket in his hands beside your head.

“Fuck. Already feels too good,” he moans, pressing into you harder and unintentionally rubbing himself over your tender clit.

You smile, squirming while he works down your neck again. “Best of luck,” you huff, amused at the fact that he might not last as long as he wants to.

He brings his face back to yours, a completely blissful expression controlling his features, but there’s still some mischief in his hazel eyes. “Oh? Yeah?”

You hold each other’s gaze, both equally dazed and overwhelmed, and he draws his hips back and pushes into your wet cunt with a complete, strong thrust. The sound of his pelvis hitting against the backs of your thighs makes him laugh in pleasure and satisfaction when you instantly roll your eyes and head back.

Your cunt quivers, gripping him tight, and then it’s Logan’s turn to lose composure. He drops his head to your chest, managing a few deep breaths as he slowly pulls out halfway just to push right back into you, over and over. 

It’s a pace that isn’t quite pure, mindless fucking, but it’s also not somewhere near earnest love-making. It’s something that feels specifically curated for you. Something that feels measured and sincere. 

The strength of his thighs hitting against yours pushes you up the mattress a few inches, and you don’t know whether to gasp or moan. He reaches somewhere deep inside you, and you know he can feel that, too.

A helpless groan slips through Logan’s lips. “Where have you fucking been, huh?” He muses through shaky breaths, the determined plunge of his cock hitting something that makes your muscles tense throughout your body. 

Your fingers tangle in the hair at the base of his neck, keeping him close. “Two doors down,” you giggle, understanding that’s not quite what he was asking.

“Fucking smart-ass,” he grumbles, silencing any further rebuttals with a wet kiss. You don’t think you could manage much more of a conversation even if you wanted to.

The silence is quickly filled with obscene sounds that only seem to leave you wetter and Logan throbbing. You can hear your bodies connecting through your gasping for air and his choked moans, and you can feel the mess you’re making all over him. It’s smeared along the inside of your thighs from how deep he’s been hitting. The squelching only seems to make him fuck into you harder.

Something inside you starts to grow tight and wind up in your core, making you repeatedly clench around him while his cock strokes all the right spots inside you as he makes sure he’s fucking himself in to the base. He doesn’t deprive you of anything. 

He drops his head to your neck, wedging his face in to latch onto the spot right where your neck starts to slope into your shoulder. The dense muscle there gives him something to basically chew on, sinking his teeth in as deep as he can without drawing blood.

“H-hah, Logan,” you whine, tilting your head into the side of his and squirming from the pleasant sting.

You feel his arm move beside you, then you hear the sound of tearing fabric as he gives a particularly brutal snap of his hips, followed by a deep groan against your skin.

You can barely form any thoughts, but you can guess what just happened. If he pulled his hand back, three long, slim holes would probably be where his knuckles are right now.

“Fu-uck, Logan, you just got t-this mattress,” you laugh a little, your words choppy from how hard he’s driving into you now.

He draws back from your neck, seeing your half-lidded eyes trying to focus on him. “Can’t always control it,” he reasons, giving you two short, fleeting kisses as you hear his claws retract from the innocent mattress. 

You see the double-edged sword. You can guess that that’s the same explanation he would probably use for the nightmares. It can go either way, and now you’ve seen both sides.

“It’s okay,” you say in a hushed tone. You cradle his face, and he rests his forehead against yours. “Keep going…keep going,” you coax, face scrunching from your nearing orgasm.

You can feel it in your toes, your stomach, your shoulders—you’re tightening up everywhere, and he can undoubtedly feel it in your cunt as you pulse around him. It grips him just right for a couple seconds before relaxing completely and leaving him to chase for more.

“Keep squeezing me like that and you’ll get whatever you want,” he offers, fighting to maintain his steady pace for both your sakes.

You almost whine, knowing whatever your body does is beyond your control at this point.

“Just—inside.” You can’t even string together a full sentence anymore, but the urgency and stress on the last word makes Logan’s ears perk up.

He presses a soft kiss to your clammy forehead in acknowledgment, the muscles in his arms straining and flexing as he grabs ahold of his own orgasm after a particularly inviting flutter of your walls.

You’re both walking the line, teetering on the edge of utter euphoria, and you know nothing will be the same after. You don’t want it to be. You hope it isn’t.

He reaches an arm back, sliding his hand up your thigh again and slotting it behind the bend in your knee. He pushes forward—only slightly—bringing your leg closer to your stomach to stretch you open for him.

His cock brushes over something new. Something that makes you bite your tongue. The angle lets him fit perfectly against you, not hindered by the flesh of your thigh stopping his hips.

You want to cry from how good it all feels. You want to be suspended in this feeling forever. You want Logan to—

“Focus, baby. Focus on me,” he coos, bringing you back to reality. He holds the side of your head with his other hand affectionately. “Come on…come on, I know you’re almost there,” he encourages with a quick kiss that goes straight to your stomach.

The burn in your thigh from the stretch can’t overpower the sparks of your orgasm, and Logan just fanned the flames with a few little words.

You come with a broken sob, convulsing around his cock while he fucks you through it, submitting to his own orgasm only seconds after with deep, shaky breaths as he empties himself inside your cunt.

He doesn’t pull out or pull away. He relaxes on top of you, sweaty and sticky with cum, and he places the barest whisper of a kiss on your chin, your parted lips, your nose, and then your forehead. 

Your ears ring from your orgasm, eyes still slightly out of focus. Your body trembles from your muscles finally releasing the tension they’ve been caught up in. 

You desperately suck in air, trying to calm your pounding heart, and you just lie there and let Logan walk your body through a cool-down. Soft kisses. Soft touches. Soft looks. Between sweat, cum, and whatever else.

He rocks a little on his knees, weak from his release, and carefully pulls out of you with a huff as he caresses your stomach and thighs appreciatively to wind you down. You get a good look at him. Not a scratch. His hair tells a story, though—one where he’s completely possessed by bliss. 

You probably look like you survived an animal attack.

“Are we even?” Logan says through a kiss against your stomach.

A mindless laugh crawls from your throat, caught up in the feeling of his hands rubbing circles over your hips. “I think I still owe you,” you argue, resting your hands over his as they travel smoothly up your side.

You’ll find a way to make everything up to him. Including the sex. The scale is now tipping to his side too much. All the nights spent in his bed, what he’s done for you, what you’ve done for each other, may just be immeasurable, but that won’t stop you from finding a way to get him back for it all. 

“We’ll figure it out,” he mumbles, snaking back up your body and pressing himself against you. Face-to-face. Chest-to-chest. 

You mindfully run your hands over the sides of his head, trying to tame his hair and style it back to how it was earlier in the night. It doesn’t work. He enjoys it anyway.

“Do I have the pleasure of staying here tonight?” You ask rhetorically, enjoying the warmth of him on top of you against the brisk air creeping in from the cracked window.

Logan blinks. “You can stay every night.” 

A loving smile springs over your face. This may be the beginning of the end to your troubles and worries.  

You—maybe foolishly—trust him. You trust that he won’t accidentally bury his claws in your side during the night, but you’ve had impressive luck with that up until this point. The only thing you can do now is continue to push that luck.

Healing isn’t linear, and you can’t expect someone to fix you, but everyone finds their thing at some point. 

You slither your hand down to his neck, index finger grazing over his pulse again. You feel the energy biting against you.

Your lips graze over his, tempting him to give you a slow, deep kiss. “Can I have the left side?” Rhetorical, again.

Logan chuckles against your mouth. “Always.”

[goddessofvalyria]

BAD BOYS | Modern!Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader x Modern!Aegon Targaryen

Summary: Aemond and Aegon Targaryen are the bad boy of the campus and they absolutely are the kings of every party. One night, they find the good girl of the college and they decide to have a little fun with her.

TW: 18+, MINORS DNI, SMUT, She/Her pronouns, virginity loss, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, sexual tension, sex, threesome. In this Au Aemond doesn't have his disability.

English is not my first language, be kind <3

This is my Masterlist

Words: 6K

Aemond Targaryen is the notorious bad boy of the college campus, a title he shares with his older brother, Aegon. With their striking platinum blonde hair, piercing violet eyes, and the reputation of being a double menace, the Targaryen brothers are known by everyone, admired by many, and feared by some. Tonight, like most nights, they find themselves at the most infamous brotherhood house on campus—the epicenter of their escapades.

Inside, the house is alive with the thumping beat of music, the smell of alcohol, and the heat of too many bodies packed together. Aemond leans casually against a wall, his eyes scanning the room only adds to his dangerous allure. Aegon, meanwhile, is already in the thick of things, flirting with two girls who giggle at his every word.

That’s when they see her.

She stands near the kitchen, sipping from a cup, clearly out of place. She’s a good girl, everyone knows that—keeps her head down, aces all her classes, never seen at parties. Her long hair falls in soft waves around her shoulders, her dress is made of black lace and satin, but there's something about the way she bites her lip, the way her eyes flicker with curiosity as she watches the chaos unfold, that catches Aemond's attention.

Aegon notices his brother’s gaze and follows it, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Interesting choice, brothe,” he says, his voice laced with amusement. “You think she’s up for a little fun?”

Aemond smirks. “Only one way to find out.”

They make their way toward her, weaving through the crowd with a predatory grace. She doesn’t notice them at first, lost in thought as she stares at the scene before her. But then Aegon speaks, his voice smooth and inviting. “What’s a good girl like you doing in a place like this?”

She startles, almost spilling her drink, and looks up at them with wide eyes. “I—I’m here with a friend” she stammers, glancing around, but it’s clear her friend has long since disappeared into the crowd.

Aemond steps closer, his gaze intense, locking onto hers. “And yet, you’re standing here all alone” he observes. “Did you want to be found?”

Her breath hitches at his words, and she looks between them, unsure of what to say. There’s something magnetic about the way they look at her, something that makes her heart race and her stomach twist with nerves. She knows who they are, knows their reputation. But there’s a thrill there, too—a dangerous curiosity.

Aegon senses her hesitation and leans in, his breath warm against her ear as he whispers. “You’ve been a good girl for so long. Don’t you ever want to be a little bad?”

The words send a shiver down her spine. She glances around the room again, as if expecting someone to come to her rescue, but no one pays them any mind. Her gaze returns to them, her cheeks flushed, eyes wide with a mix of fear and desire.

“I…I don’t know” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aemond reaches out, his fingers brushing against her arm. The touch is electric, sending a jolt through her body. “We can show you” he says softly. “If you want.”

There’s a moment of silence, a moment where she could still walk away, but she doesn’t. Instead, she nods, her decision made. They exchange a look of triumph before Aemond takes her hand, leading her through the crowd, with Aegon following closely behind.

They lead her upstairs, away from the noise, away from the prying eyes. The room they enter is dimly lit, a soft glow from a single lamp in the corner. It’s Aegon’s room—messy, with clothes strewn everywhere and an unmade bed that dominates the space.

Aemond closes the door behind them, the click of the lock loud in the quiet room. She stands there, unsure, her heart pounding in her chest. But there’s no turning back now. She wanted this. She wants this.

Aegon steps up behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders, his lips brushing against her ear. “We’ll take care of you” he murmurs, his hands sliding down her arms, pulling her back against his chest. She gasps, the sound caught in her throat as Aemond approaches from the front, his hand reaching up to tilt her chin, forcing her to look up at him.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of” Aemond tells her, his voice low and soothing. “We’ll be gentle… at first.”

Aegon chuckles softly behind her, his lips grazing her neck, making her shiver. “If you want us to stop, just say a word” he adds, his tone light but with a dark edge.

She nods, her voice lost somewhere between fear and excitement. She can feel Aegon’s hands moving lower, down to her waist, pulling her dress up inch by inch. Aemond’s hand on her chin moves down to the neckline of her dress, his fingers tracing the delicate fabric before he slips them underneath, brushing against her skin.

The room feels too hot, the air too thick. She feels Aegon’s lips on her neck, sucking gently, while Aemond’s mouth finds hers, capturing her lips in a soft, exploratory kiss. It’s gentle at first, but soon it deepens, becoming more urgent, more demanding.

She moans into his mouth as Aegon’s hands slide up her thighs, his fingers slipping under the thin fabric of her panties. She feels his fingers stroke her gently, exploring her folds, and she can’t help the soft cry that escapes her lips. Aemond’s lips leave hers to trail kisses down her neck, his hands moving to unbutton her dress.

Her hands reach up, gripping Aegon’s arms, her nails digging into his skin as his fingers find her clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles. She’s overwhelmed, her senses overloaded with the feel of their hands on her, their lips against her skin, the sound of their breath hot and heavy in her ears.

Aemond pushes her dress down her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in a soft heap. She’s standing there in just her panties, feeling exposed, vulnerable, but there’s no going back now. Aegon’s fingers slip inside her, and she gasps, her body arching back against him.

“Gods, you’re so tight” Aegon groans against her ear, his fingers moving inside her, curling just right. She can feel the heat building inside her, the pressure coiling tight in her belly.

Aemond steps back for a moment, watching them with a hungry gaze, his hand reaching down to undo his belt. “You like that, don’t you?” he asks, his voice rough. “Being between us… feeling both of us.”

She nods, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps. “Yes” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

Aemond smiles, a dark, satisfied grin, before he steps forward again, his hands gripping her hips, pulling her down onto the bed. Aegon moves with her, his fingers still buried deep inside her, not stopping for a moment. Aemond is quick to position himself between her legs, his mouth descending on her wetness, licking a long, slow line up her slit.

She cries out, her body trembling, her hands reaching out to grasp the sheets, her knuckles turning white. Aegon’s fingers work inside her, matching the rhythm of Aemond’s tongue, and it’s too much, the pleasure too intense. She can feel herself on the edge, the tension building and building until it finally snaps, sending her over the edge.

She comes with a cry, her body convulsing, her hips bucking up against Aemond’s mouth. He doesn’t stop, his tongue lapping up every drop of her release while Aegon continues to pump his fingers inside her, prolonging her orgasm until she’s a trembling, boneless mess.

When she finally comes down from the high, she’s breathing hard, her body limp against the bed. Aegon pulls his fingers out, licking them clean with a satisfied hum, while Aemond rises, his face glistening with her slick.

“That was just the beginning” Aegon whispers, his lips brushing against her ear. “We’re not done with you yet.”

She swallows hard, her body still trembling, her mind spinning with the promise of what’s to come. She’s crossed a line tonight, and there’s no going back. She’s in their world now, caught between the Targaryen brothers, and for the first time in her life, she doesn’t want to be good anymore. She wants to be theirs.

Her heart is still pounding in her chest, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps as Aegon’s words echo in her mind. "We’re not done with you yet." She knows there’s more to come, and the thought makes her pulse quicken with a mixture of nerves and anticipation.

Aemond wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, a dark look of desire burning in his eye as he stares down at her. “Get on your knees” he commands softly, his voice rough with lust.

She hesitates for a moment, but the heat in his gaze and the memory of the pleasure they just gave her drives her to obey. She pushes herself up onto shaky arms and turns over, her hands and knees sinking into the soft mattress. Behind her, Aegon moves quickly, his hands gripping her hips as he positions himself behind her.

She feels Aegon’s hardness pressing against her entrance, and her breath catches in her throat. This is it. She’s never done this before—never been with anyone like this. The thought both excites and terrifies her, but there’s no turning back now. She wants this. She wants them.

Aemond moves in front of her, his fingers tangling in her hair, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. “Are you ready?” he asks, his tone softer now, almost gentle.

She nods, biting her lip. “Yes” she whispers, her voice trembling with anticipation.

Aegon chuckles softly behind her, his breath warm against her skin. “Relax, sweet girl” he murmurs, his hands squeezing her hips. “We’ll take care of you.”

She takes a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. She feels Aegon’s cock press against her entrance, the blunt tip teasing her, and then he pushes forward, slowly, carefully, breaching her inch by inch. The stretch is intense, a burning sensation that makes her wince, but he goes slow, giving her time to adjust.

Aemond watches her closely, his hand still in her hair, his thumb stroking her cheek. “That’s it” he whispers, his voice soothing. “Breathe through it.”

She does as he says, taking slow, deep breaths as Aegon fills her, stretching her in a way she’s never felt before. There’s a moment of discomfort, a sharp sting of pain as he pushes deeper, but it quickly fades, replaced by a feeling of fullness, of being completely and utterly claimed.

Aegon bottoms out with a low groan, his hands tightening on her hips. “Fuck, you’re so tight” he breathes, his voice rough with restraint. “You feel so good.”

She whimpers, her hands clutching the sheets, her body trembling as she adjusts to the feel of him inside her. Aemond leans down, his lips capturing hers in a deep, possessive kiss, distracting her from the discomfort with the stroke of his tongue, the taste of him overwhelming her senses.

Aegon starts to move, slowly at first, rocking his hips back and forth, each thrust pushing deeper, rubbing against a spot inside her that makes her gasp into Aemond’s mouth. The pain is gone now, replaced by a growing pleasure, a heat that spreads through her veins, igniting her blood.

Aemond breaks the kiss, his breath hot against her lips as he murmurs. “Good girl. You’re taking him so well.”

She moans softly at his words, the praise making her clench around Aegon’s cock, drawing a groan from his lips. He picks up the pace, thrusting harder now, each stroke driving deeper, pushing her closer to the edge.

Aemond moves away for a moment, and she hears the rustle of fabric as he sheds his clothes. He’s back in front of her in an instant, his cock hard and heavy in his hand. He strokes himself slowly, his gaze locked on her face, watching every expression, every gasp and moan that escapes her lips.

“Open your mouth” he orders, his voice low and commanding.

She obeys without hesitation, her lips parting, and he guides his cock to her mouth, sliding it over her tongue. He’s big, and the taste of him is musky, intoxicating. She closes her lips around him, sucking gently, her tongue swirling around the tip.

Aemond groans, his hand tightening in her hair, guiding her head as he slowly thrusts into her mouth, matching the rhythm of Aegon’s thrusts behind her. She’s caught between them, filled from both ends, the pleasure building and building, driving her closer to the brink.

Aegon’s thrusts become harder, more urgent, his grip on her hips bruising. “Gods, you’re perfect” he growls, his voice tight with need. “So fucking perfect.”

Aemond’s thrusts are slow and controlled, each one pushing deeper, filling her mouth, making her throat tighten around him. “Such a good girl” he murmurs, his tone laced with praise and lust. “Taking us both like this. I knew you’d be perfect for us.”

The praise sends a jolt of pleasure straight to her core, making her clench around Aegon’s cock, drawing a strangled groan from his lips. He slams into her harder, his pace frantic now, and she knows he’s close.

The room is filled with the sounds of their bodies moving together, the slap of skin against skin, the wet sounds of her sucking Aemond’s cock, the low, desperate moans and grunts of pleasure. She can feel the pressure building inside her, the coil tightening in her belly, threatening to snap at any moment.

Aegon’s thrusts become erratic, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “I’m gonna come” he warns, his voice strained. “Fuck, I’m gonna come.”

Aemond’s grip on her hair tightens, his cock throbbing in her mouth. “Come with us” he orders, his voice low and commanding. “Let go, sweet girl. Come for us.”

That’s all it takes. The coil snaps, and she’s falling, her orgasm crashing over her like a wave, her body trembling, her walls clenching tight around Aegon’s cock. She moans around Aemond’s cock, the sound vibrating through him, and he lets out a low groan, thrusting deeper, holding her head still as he comes, his release spilling down her throat.

Aegon isn’t far behind, his hips jerking as he finds his release, his cock pulsing inside her, filling her with his warmth. She feels him throb, his cum spilling deep inside her, and it sends another wave of pleasure through her, making her tremble.

They stay like that for a moment, all of them breathing hard, their bodies slick with sweat, tangled together in a mess of limbs and heat. Slowly, Aegon pulls out, his cock slipping free, leaving her feeling empty, spent.

Aemond releases her hair, pulling out of her mouth, his cock softening. He strokes her cheek with his thumb, a satisfied smile on his lips. “You did so well” he praises, his tone soft, almost affectionate.

She collapses onto the bed, her body exhausted, her mind spinning with everything that just happened. She’s just lost her virginity to both of them, been utterly claimed, and she knows she should feel something—regret, shame, something. But all she feels is a deep, bone-deep satisfaction, a contentment that settles over her like a warm blanket.

Aegon lies down beside her, pulling her close against his chest, his lips brushing her temple. “You’re ours now,” he murmurs, his voice soft but firm. “Ours.”

Aemond lies down on her other side, his arm draped over her waist, his lips pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder. “Ours” he echoes, his tone just as possessive.

She knows she should feel overwhelmed, maybe even scared, but she doesn’t. She feels safe, secure, like she belongs here, between them. She closes her eyes, a soft smile playing on her lips as she lets herself relax, lets herself be theirs.

Tonight, she gave herself to them, and she doesn’t regret a single moment.

The days after that night feel like a blur.

She tries to focus on her studies, tries to keep her head down like she always has, but she can’t stop thinking about the Targaryen brothers. Her body still hums with the memory of their touch, the taste of their skin still lingering on her lips. She’s replayed that night over and over in her mind, each time her cheeks flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and desire. She wonders if they think about it, too.

Aegon, apparently, does not. She sees him a few times around campus, always with a new girl on his arm, always with that same cocky grin on his face. He doesn’t even acknowledge her when they pass each other in the quad, his attention already focused on his next conquest. It stings a little, the way he brushes her off so easily, but she knew what she was getting into. Aegon is Aegon. She wasn’t expecting anything more.

But Aemond… Aemond is different.

She catches glimpses of him in the library, in the dining hall, his intense gaze always seeming to find hers across the room. There’s something there, something lingering in the way he looks at her. She feels it, too, a pull she can’t quite explain. He doesn’t approach her, doesn’t speak to her, but she knows he’s watching, waiting.

It’s a Friday night when she finally sees him again. She’s in her dorm room, curled up on her bed with a book, trying to distract herself from the noise of the party raging in the common room down the hall. Her roommate is there, too, laughing loudly with a few friends, the sound of music and chatter bleeding through the thin walls. She tries to focus on the words in front of her, but her mind keeps drifting, her thoughts wandering back to him.

And then, there’s a knock on her door.

She hesitates for a moment, glancing at the clock. It’s late, almost midnight. She wonders who it could be, maybe her roommate’s friends needing something, but when she opens the door, her breath catches in her throat. It’s Aemond.

He’s standing there, looking as effortlessly handsome as ever, his silver hair falling into his eyes, a leather jacket slung over his shoulder. He looks different tonight—less composed, more raw. His gaze is intense, his eye fixed on hers, and she feels that familiar heat rise in her cheeks.

“Aemond...” she breathes, her voice barely audible over the noise from the hallway. “What are you doing here?”

He steps closer, into her room, closing the door behind him. “I didn’t feel like going to the party” he says simply, his voice low and steady. “Thought I’d come see you instead.”

She swallows hard, her heart racing in her chest. “Why?” she asks, genuinely curious. “Aren’t there a hundred other girls who’d want your attention?”

He smirks, his lips curling up at the corners. “Probably” he admits. “But I’m not interested in them.”

There’s a charged silence between them, the air thick with tension. She feels a shiver run down her spine, her body reacting to the look in his eyes, the way he’s watching her like he wants to devour her.

He takes a step closer, his hand reaching up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing against her skin. “Are you going to invite me in?” he asks, his voice a low, seductive purr.

She nods, stepping back to let him in. He moves past her, his presence filling the small room, making it feel even smaller. She closes the door behind them, the sound of the party muffling to a dull roar outside.

He’s on her in an instant, his lips crashing down on hers, his hands gripping her waist, pulling her against him. She melts into the kiss, her arms wrapping around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair. He kisses her like he’s been starving for her, like he’s been waiting for this moment since the last time they were together.

He pushes her back towards the bed, his hands roaming over her body, pulling her close, his lips never leaving hers. She falls back onto the mattress, pulling him down on top of her, her legs parting to make room for him between them.

He pulls back for a moment, his gaze dark and hungry as he looks down at her. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you” he admits, his voice rough. “About how you felt… how you tasted.”

She shivers at his words, a moan slipping from her lips. “Me too” she confesses, her voice breathless.

He grins, a wicked, knowing grin, before he kisses her again, his lips trailing down her neck, over her collarbone. He tugs at her shirt, pulling it over her head, his lips trailing down her chest, his hands working to unhook her bra.

She gasps as his mouth finds her nipple, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak, his teeth grazing it just enough to make her arch her back. His hands are everywhere—sliding up her sides, gripping her thighs, pulling her closer.

He moves lower, kissing down her stomach, his fingers hooking in the waistband of her shorts, pulling them down along with her panties.

He spreads her legs wider, his gaze fixed on her wetness, his mouth watering. “You’re already so wet for me” he murmurs, his voice husky with desire. “Do you know how crazy that drives me?”

She bites her lip, her breath hitching as he lowers his head, his tongue flicking out to taste her. She cries out, her hips bucking up off the bed, but he holds her down, his hands gripping her thighs, keeping her still as he licks and sucks, his tongue swirling around her clit, teasing her entrance.

He’s relentless, his mouth working her over, his tongue driving her wild. She feels the pleasure building, a slow burn that starts in her core and spreads through her entire body. She can’t think, can’t breathe, her mind a haze of pleasure and need.

He slides two fingers inside her, curling them just right, hitting that spot that makes her see stars. She cries out, her hands fisting in the sheets, her body trembling with need. He works his fingers in and out of her, his mouth still on her clit, sucking harder, licking faster.

She feels it building, that pressure inside her, coiling tighter and tighter, threatening to snap. “Aemond” she gasps, her voice a desperate plea. “I’m— I’m gonna—”

“Come for me” he growls against her skin, his fingers curling inside her, his tongue flicking her clit. “Come on, I want to feel you come.”

That’s all it takes. The coil snaps, and she’s falling, her orgasm crashing over her in a wave of pure, blinding pleasure. She screams, her body convulsing, her walls clenching tight around his fingers. She feels something release inside her, a gush of liquid soaking the sheets beneath her, and she realizes with a shock that she’s squirting.

He groans against her, his fingers working her through it, his mouth never leaving her clit, licking up every drop of her release. He pulls back after a moment, his chin glistening with her wetness, a satisfied grin on his lips.

“Fuck” she breathes, her body still trembling, her mind spinning. “I’ve never… I didn’t know I could…”

He chuckles, his gaze softening as he wipes his chin with the back of his hand. “There’s a lot you don’t know about yourself” he says softly, his hand reaching up to stroke her cheek. “But I’d like to find out.”

She smiles up at him, her heart swelling in her chest.

"Stay with me" she whispers. "I want you. Just you."

He doesn’t need to be told twice. His mouth crashes down on hers, the kiss hungry and desperate, his hands roaming over her body, pulling her close. She melts against him, her hands finding his shoulders, her fingers digging into his skin as she kisses him back with equal fervor.

Aemond’s hands are everywhere—sliding under her shirt, gripping her waist, then moving to cup her breasts through her bra. He pushes her back towards the bed again, and she falls onto it with a soft gasp, pulling him down with her. His lips leave hers, trailing down her neck, biting and sucking at the sensitive skin there, leaving marks that she knows will be there tomorrow.

He yanks her shirt off, tossing it aside, and then his hands are on her bra, unclasping it with a deftness that makes her head spin. He pulls it off her, his lips immediately closing around one of her nipples, sucking and biting, his other hand pinching and rolling the other. She cries out, arching her back, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

"Aemond" she gasps, her body on fire, every nerve ending alive with sensation. "Please..."

He pulls back, his lips leaving her skin, his eye dark with desire as he looks down at her. "Please what?" he taunts, his voice a low growl.

"Please” she repeats, her voice desperate. "I need you."

Aemond grins, a wicked, knowing grin, before his hands move down to her shorts and pulling them down her legs, leaving her in just her panties. He slides them down too, tossing them aside, leaving her completely bare before him.

He looks at her for a moment, his gaze sweeping over her body, taking in every curve, every inch of her exposed skin. She feels her cheeks flush under his scrutiny, but the way he’s looking at her makes her feel powerful, makes her feel wanted.

“You’re beautiful” he murmurs, his voice soft, almost reverent. He leans down, his lips trailing kisses down her stomach, his hands spreading her thighs apart. She shivers, her breath hitching in her throat as she feels his hot breath against her core.

He doesn’t waste any time. His tongue flicks out, teasing her clit, and she cries out, her hips bucking up off the bed. He holds her down, his fingers digging into her thighs, keeping her in place as he devours her, his tongue swirling around her clit, then dipping lower to tease her entrance.

She’s already so sensitive from their earlier activities, and the feel of his mouth on her, the way he’s licking and sucking, drives her wild. She can’t think, can’t breathe, her mind a haze of pleasure and need. She feels that familiar heat building in her core, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter, threatening to snap.

“Aemond” she gasps, her voice a desperate plea. “I’m— I’m gonna—”

“Cum for me” he growls against her, his tongue flicking her clit harder, his fingers sliding inside her, curling just right, hitting that spot that makes her see stars. “I want to feel you come all over my tongue.”

That’s all it takes. The coil snaps, and she’s falling, her orgasm crashing over her like a wave, her body trembling, her walls clenching tight around his fingers. She feels herself squirt again, a gush of liquid soaking the sheets beneath her, and she hears Aemond groan in satisfaction, his tongue lapping up every drop of her release.

He doesn’t stop, his fingers still moving inside her, his mouth still on her clit, and she feels another orgasm building almost immediately, her body still sensitive, still on edge. She cries out, her hands fisting in the sheets, her body arching off the bed as another wave of pleasure crashes over her, her second orgasm even more intense than the first.

Aemond finally pulls back, his lips glistening with her wetness, a satisfied grin on his lips. He moves up her body, his hands gripping her hips, pulling her closer. “You taste so fucking good” he growls, his lips crashing down on hers, making her taste herself on his tongue.

She moans into his mouth, her hands sliding down to his jeans, fumbling with the button. She can feel his hardness pressing against her thigh, and she wants him, needs him inside her. “Please,” she whispers against his lips, her fingers finally undoing his jeans, pushing them down his hips. “I need you, Aemond. I need you inside me.”

He groans, his hand wrapping around his cock, guiding it to her entrance. He slides the tip over her clit, teasing her, making her squirm beneath him. “Beg for it” he orders, his voice a low growl.

“Please” she gasps, her hands gripping his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin. “Please Aemond, I need you. Fuck me, please.”

He doesn’t need any more encouragement. As he puts a condom, he thrusts into her, hard and deep, filling her completely. She cries out, her body arching off the bed, her nails raking down his back. He feels so good, so big, stretching her in a way that makes her toes curl, makes her mind go blank.

He sets a brutal pace, his hips slamming into hers, each thrust driving deeper, hitting that spot inside her that makes her see stars. She wraps her legs around his waist, pulling him closer, her hips meeting his with every thrust, the sound of their bodies slapping together filling the room.

Aemond grunts, his teeth gritted, his fingers digging into her hips. “You feel so fucking good” he groans, his voice strained with effort. “So fucking tight. Gods, I could fuck you forever.”

She moans in response, her body trembling, the pleasure building again, higher and higher, threatening to consume her. She can feel another orgasm building, her body on the brink, and she knows she’s not going to last much longer. “Aemond,” she gasps, her voice a desperate plea. “I’m—”

“Come for me” he orders, his thrusts becoming harder, more frantic. “Come all over my cock.”

That’s all it takes. She’s falling again, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave, her body convulsing, her walls clenching tight around him. She screams his name, her nails digging into his shoulders, her body arching off the bed as the pleasure consumes her.

Aemond groans, his hips jerking, his own release hitting him like a freight train. He thrusts into her one last time, burying himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing as he spills inside her, filling her with his warmth.

They stay like that for a moment, both of them breathing hard, their bodies slick with sweat, tangled together in a mess of limbs and heat. Slowly, Aemond pulls out, rolling onto his back beside her, his chest heaving with exertion.

She turns her head to look at him, a satisfied smile on her lips. “That was… incredible” she breathes, her voice barely more than a whisper.

He lies down beside her, pulling her close, their bodies tangled together in the soft sheets. He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a cigarette, lighting it with a match. He takes a long drag, the smoke curling up around them, before passing it to her.

She takes it hesitantly, taking a small puff, coughing a little. He laughs softly, his hand stroking her hair, soothing her. “You’re not as much of a good girl as everyone thinks, are you?” he muses, his tone teasing.

She shrugs, a small smile playing on her lips. “I do what I have to” she admits. “For the scholarships, for the grades.I’m not as perfect as people think.”

He smiles, a genuine smile that reaches his eye, making him look almost boyish. “Good” he says softly. “I don’t want perfect. I want real.”

“Good” she asks. "And what about you?"

"About me?" he answers. "I'm quite good to all the subjects and I like metal and rock music"

She feels her heart flutter at his words, a warmth spreading through her chest. She takes another drag of the cigarette, feeling the smoke fill her lungs, then lets it out in a slow, steady exhale. “The night is still young” he says, a playful glint in his eyes. “Want to go for a ride?”

She grins, that wicked, dangerous grin that makes her heart race. “I’d love to.”

They get dressed quickly, laughter filling the small room as they stumble over each other, the high of their shared moment still buzzing in their veins.

They make their way outside, the cool night air hitting their skin, the sounds of the party fading into the background.

He leads her to his bike, a sleek, powerful machine that looks as dangerous as it does exciting. He swings his leg over it with practiced ease, the leather of his jacket creaking with the movement, and holds out a hand to her. She takes it without hesitation, her heart racing with anticipation as she climbs on behind him, her arms wrapping tightly around his waist.

Aemond revs the engine, the deep, throaty roar vibrating through them both, sending a thrill down her spine. She feels the bike rumble beneath her, powerful and alive, just like the man in front of her. She leans into his back, feeling the warmth of his body through his jacket, the scent of leather and smoke filling her senses.

“Hold on tight” he murmurs over his shoulder, a wicked grin on his lips.

And then they’re off, speeding down the dark, empty streets, the wind whipping through their hair. The world around them blurs as they race through the night, the lights of the campus fading into the distance. She feels a rush of adrenaline, a wild, exhilarating freedom she’s never felt before. She tightens her grip on Aemond, pressing closer, the thrill of the ride mixed with the intoxicating feeling of his body against hers.

They disappear into the darkness, leaving behind the noise and chaos of the campus, the cold night air biting at their skin. Aemond drives fast, weaving through the streets with a confidence that makes her feel safe, even as her heart pounds in her chest. She doesn’t know where they’re going, and she doesn’t care. She’s with him, and that’s all that matters.

They ride for what feels like hours, the city lights blurring into a distant glow behind them. Aemond takes them out to the open road, the dark highway stretching out before them, endless and inviting. She leans her head against his back, closing her eyes, losing herself in the moment, in the feeling of being free, of being alive.

Eventually, he slows down, pulling off onto a secluded overlook that offers a breathtaking view of the city below, twinkling like a sea of stars. He cuts the engine, and the sudden silence is almost deafening after the roar of the bike. She lets out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, her heart still racing with the thrill of the ride.

Aemond turns to look at her, his eye searching hers, his expression soft in the moonlight. “You okay?” he asks, his voice low and rough, laced with concern.

She nods, a wide smile spreading across her face. “More than okay” she replies, her voice breathless with excitement. “That was… amazing.”

He smiles, a real, genuine smile that makes her heart skip a beat. “Good” he says softly, reaching out to brush a stray hair from her face. “I’m glad.”

They sit there for a moment, the city spread out before them, the quiet of the night wrapping around them. She feels a sense of peace settle over her, a contentment she hasn’t felt in a long time.

Aemond turns slightly, his hand still on her cheek, his thumb brushing against her skin. “You’re different” he murmurs, his gaze intense. “Not like the other girls and I know that you hate hearing that.”

She tilts her head, looking up at him with curiosity. “I'm different because I am myself and yes, I hate when you say that I'm different"

She feels her heart flutter at his words, a warmth spreading through her chest. She leans in, pressing her lips to his, a soft, tender kiss. He kisses her back, his hand sliding to the back of her neck, pulling her closer.

They stay like that for a long moment, lost in each other, in the quiet of the night. When they finally pull back, their foreheads rest together, their breaths mingling in the cool night air.

“I don’t want this to end” she whispers, her voice barely more than a breath.

He smiles, his hand tightening on her waist. “It doesn’t have to” he murmurs, his tone filled with promise.

She nods, her heart full, her body warm with the promise of what’s to come. They may have started as just a night of fun, but now, as they sit together under the stars, she knows that this is only the beginning.

[rainstormwrite]

The new update is now public.

Hello again, people!

That's it. This is the day.

The new update is now public.

(You're required to start a new playthrough if you don't want any game-breaking bugs, by the way.)

What's done:

All three routes are finished.

All the POVs are rewritten to be in the third person (they actually feel way better than I thought they would be).

Some parts of the first fight scene are fixed and clarified.

Some pronoun bugs are fixed.

What's planned:

…

Writing another update, obviously.

Word count:

Including command lines: 271245 Excluding command lines: 260837

But, I would ask you to temper your expectations in terms of the new content's single playthrough length. I'm going to paraphrase this from my previous post: the actual amount of content that was added with this new update is somewhere between 15 to 25 pages (approximately).

Even though the word count increased from 53k to 260k, the only event to happen in this update is one conversation/confrontation (ridiculous, I know). This is primarily due to the overwhelming amount of variable text that changes depending on your earlier choices and due to the number of routes you can take. If you're interested in the reasons for me to decide to do that, check out my previous post.

So, basically, each reader will experience the new content very differently but may not get as much satisfaction due to its shortness. If that is the case, I can only suggest you make another playthrough with different choices, but, if that's not your cup of tea, I would totally understand. But, overall, the game is very… how do I put it..? Multiple-playthroughs-friendly, I'd say.

Safe to say, the update will be incredibly polarizing, no doubt, but I'm always open to feedback.

And, even though I haven't found any bugs or inconsistencies, I am obviously aware that someone else may find them, so, if you are that someone, please report the bugs to me.

I think that's all regarding the update itself, so go ahead and play it. Hope you will like it!

PLAY THE UPDATE

Now, onto other interesting things…

From this point onward, I'm starting to take writing seriously, and that's why I've finally decided to open my Patreon page.

I've made a free introductory post there that explains what I'll be offering, but, right off the bat, I want to tell you that I can't offer you things that other creators are usually offering: Q&As and What-if scenarios. If we're talking about Q&As, I don't want to do them because I consider mystery to be a big part of my work, so I don't really want to wiggle around every question that people will ask me because it won't be fair to them and won't feel good to me. As for What-if scenarios, I don't want to write out some hypothetical scenarios when I can spend that time to progress the plot forward in the actual story. And, trust me, if I'm going to spread my attention too thin, I'm never going to finish this project… And I don't think you and I want that.

What I will provide, however, are progress updates, sneak peeks, early access, and monthly side stories, which the community will be able to choose by voting.

So, I'd advise you to read through the new update first, decide whether you're willing to put up with my approach to the content, and then consider subscribing if what I offer on Patreon is enough for you. If, after all that, you decide to become a member, I'll be very grateful to you. If not, I will still appreciate you being interested in my work and taking the time to read through it.

Thanks for tuning in, and have a pleasant day or a peaceful night!

[zforzelma]

A list* of Shakespeare characters for which casting a trans actor is the strongest choice.

Take a look at your complete works of Shakespeare. You can pack so much Gender in those plays. I am of the opinion that casting should be undertaken to highlight the text and make new discoveries.

Really, any Shakespeare role can and should be played by a trans person of any variety, but there are some roles in particular that I think would unfold incredible revelations about the text. I'm leaving out magical characters and fools because that's too obvious.

Lysander - Mids; why don't you want me to marry your daughter? Say it, you coward.

Helena - Mids; This one would be psychologically intense for the actress, so really only attempt if you've got a good therapist. Having a trans woman in this role would be such a gut-punch for so much of the text, I honestly think it would make the audience uncomfortable at some parts. To which I say: GOOD.

I have so many more.

Viola - 12th; Also pretty psychologically intense with all the cross dressing, and the wow-you-look-just-like-your-brother, but her equivocation about gender in her conversations with Orsino would absolutely sing.

Orlando - As You Like It; His older brother won't let him go to college with the other men. Proves himself by winning in a wrestling match. Doesn't recognize his crush when she's cross dressing.

Mercutio - R&J; At this point I feel like everyone knows Mercutio is a nonbinary lesbian or trans masc. Right? Like, we all know that. Jokes aside, I think his difficult relationship with masculinity and honor would be interesting if interpreted by a trans actor.

Hamlet - Hamlet; Obviously. I mean duh. trans masc, trans fem, man, woman, both or neither. Any queer person probably gets Hamlet on a visceral level better than any cis straight person. Who's even casting a cis man as Hamlet in the year of our lord 2023? Yawn.

Laertes - Hamlet; Yeah I don't know what it is. This one is purely vibes based.

Macduff - Macbeth; I actually made Macduff a woman, changed all the pronouns and made him a lesbian when I directed, and I'd probably do that again. But I think Duff could also - or alternately - be trans. I think it would say something interesting about violence of his journey, the scene with future King Malcolm, and the fact that Duff is the one to behead ol' Mack.

What do you guys think? Did I miss an obvious one?

* this is not at all a comprehensive list

[stormblessed95]

Who Thoughts and Theories

First, it's such a good song. I'm genuinely so in love with it, with Jimins vocals, with his dance, with his backup dancers. I'm so impressed with how hard he worked and all the choices he contributed to it. While this is the only song on the album that Jimin doesn't have writing credits on, he was still very much involved in every aspect of the songs creation and it was written with the feelings Jimin wished to portray. I talk briefly about what I believe the overall feelings that Jimin was trying to express in the album Muse, here:

And of course because you should refresh yourself on the song and get that extra stream in before you read....

I'll otherwise just be talking about what I think, my thoughts, my feelings and my theories about Who, the song and the MV in this post. These are of course just my opinions, coming from my perspectives. You are free to agree or disagree as much as you want.

First, I want to say that regardless of the pronouns used in the song, I don't think it has any bearing on Jimins sexuality. People (read: homophobes) cannot use this song as a way to try to say Jimin can't be queer. Not only is that nonsensical and ignoring the fact that Jimin would be closeted if he is queer. But it's also ignoring the way Jimin speaks about the song, which is solely in gender neutral terms. From the original lyrics being "you" instead of "she."

To the way he says "people" instead of "girls/women" about the scene where people walk past him as the options of who he could be looking for. Along with the fact that the billboard with a man's eyes drop right after he sings "who is my heart Waiting for?"

The way that Jimin dances with both men and women and the scene then when they come together, it's absolutely giving west side story. Which is my personal opinion. Which one of the themes of west side story is love striving to rise above the hatred.... And idk about you, but I think that can easily relate to queer love as well. But again, personal opinion only! So this BS that I know everyone rolled their eyes at with the "this proved he is straight" nonsense, is at its core.... Nonsense...

Speaking of his dance, this thread has absolutely nothing to do with what I'll talk about in this post but is so cool and FULL of Jimin appreciation and you should check it out if you want!

Jimin switched aspect ratios of film during his MV of Who. An ARMY linked together all the times he changed ratios, which you can watch here:

As well as going through multiple different types of media: television, comic strips, movie, billboards, etc. Jimin is showing us multiple different storylines within his MV. This same person from above goes into great detail about how all this can show the various details of storylines and storytelling. It's a good read, worth checking out

It's super interesting the way the words play across the screen during certain parts of the MV and how it changes the screen ratios as well. I would love an actual interpretation from Jimin or the MV director over what they actually mean or if it was just in the 90s theme with zero correlation or meanings, but I doubt we will ever get that. So all we can do is guess and make our own interpretations. Which will be affected by our own personal biases. That's the beauty of art though!

The ones I'll point out that I'll say something about are:

Play, both in the corners at times and on the little TV's around the MV

Auto calibration, with the burning wrecked car, where the words flash quickly across the screen at the bottom, right before hand too, the screen ratio had changed again too. And it changes again as he does his partner choreo with the girl

Rewind, which appears during the bridge. Right after the billboard falls and the screen ratio had changed again

And then pause at the very end before the whole screen cuts.... And then we get the end screen with the words play again, basically looping the video, and the Smeraldo Flower

So let's talk about it!

It's interesting that the video basically loops, it's really giving storytelling. Jimin being an actor basically. "Play" being inside the story for the most part. And it's interesting that those parts happen right before a lot of the partnering choreo too. Auto calibration means bringing something back into an acceptable range. Which if we relate this at all to queerness, it's absolutely giving "don't stray too far out of that closet." And it does happen right after Jimin dances with men, before dancing with the woman again. And play is back in the little TV's. It's giving, trying to be perfect and fit into expectations and be in the perfect storybook. And at the end, Jimin is left behind by all the dancers and the billboard drops at "who is my heart Waiting for" and it's clearer and clearer that it really is most likely JKs eyes. If not, it's absolutely a man's eyes and that is screaming queer energy. And even if it is just a promo of some kind, since we don't know the connection between the eyes, JK, "keep going" and AYS yet, it's WILD to put Jikook promo in this type of love song. And yet, these are the two that publicly claimed the song serendipity as theirs. So it tracks.

And when we get to rewind, it's at the same time as he is talking about "people" walking by him as potentials for his perfect match, as well as how he is not able to "match" any of the women he attempts to meet with through dance in his short walk. It is also right after that billboard with ?Jungkook? drops too. Interesting. Trying to get back into the original story perhaps? Perhaps it's not working so well?

Pause. Off. Smeraldo Flower which represents the Truth Untold.... Speaking yourself. Loving yourself. Being true to who you are..... Which is maybe not what was the perfect story that was being depicted through the MV. Who knows! But that is the end. Just to loop around and start again with Play. Where he literally tells us with Muse to "please misunderstand." Again, just interesting. And if you are following my thoughts here, you already know why that is "interesting."

It's giving closeted queer energy and it's giving I like people, not genders and it's giving love.

Which brings me to the very LAST thing I want to talk about. Sorry, I know this is already SO LONG. Jimin is singing amongst natural disasters. So did V and JK actually too. They are singing about declaring love in the middle of some kind of disaster. And I can't stop thinking about that honestly.

It's giving peak grand gesture kinda romance. It's giving intimacy found between two people in love no matter where they are or how loud the world might be around them. It's giving raw and honest declarations of intent and love type vibes. And i just love that they are into and going for that exaggerated confession scene and storybook kinda romance. It's absolutely tracks for who they are as people and the romance they've all talked about wanting too. And who else do we know who always seems to like doing grand gesture type romantic BS for someone else?

Anyway! This is the feeling that people write epic romances about. Your favorite ships? It's the same type of feeling that's inspired here. Let me try to explain this in some kinda way....

It's a trope. "Love conquers all" where it doesn't matter what life throws at you. All the trials, the tribulations, the natural disasters, the normal disasters, any and all shortcomings or failures you might face in life.... The moment of being with the one you love? Of being vulnerable and baring your soul with another person who means the world to you? Making sure they understand how much they mean to you and how much you love them? That's always going to be the most important thing and moment. That is the significance of the intimacy and the romance displayed.

It's the peak, idealistic version of the best relationship you could find yourself in. Nothing and no one matters more than the moments you create with your loved one, even in the middle of a raging horrific apocalyptic disaster ridden world.

And how sometimes, just building up to that confession can make things feel like a horrific apocalyptic disaster ridden world, until you confess. And you let those feelings out. And it's okay. All those disasters quiet down, maybe you even start to enjoy the rain. It was your emotions all along. And then you discover that hey, maybe the reason I'm feeling so calm now is actually BECAUSE of this person I love. Being with them calms my mind, brings me safety, happiness and joy.

Sometimes, in the middle of all the madness and chaos of the world... You are only minutes away from finding that moment with that person that's going to give you something infinite. Something that no natural disaster can destroy or take away from you. Something, and/or someone, so precious.

And there is something so beautiful in depicting this in their love songs. It's inspirational. As well as humorous in regards to Seven. Lol

I'll just finish this off with a link to this twitter user as this moment just came out, and it's about rebirth, but I do low-key agree with them here 😂

And anyway, that was my essay! Lol if you read all of this. Bless you and thank you! You are appreciated! A reminder that this is all just personal opinions. You are free to agree or disagree as you choose!

[ravenstargames]

✦ Lost in Limbo Masterpost ✦

Everything you need to know about the game so far! 💜

When you finally quit your dead-end job and move back to your mother's house in the ever-peaceful town of Faybourne, you think things could only get better. However, the moment you set foot in your childhood home, a harrowing nightmare long forgotten reappears to haunt you once more.

A tower that crumbles in the vastness of a bleeding sky. A voice that mourns and yearns for something.

Torn away from your peaceful life and thrown into a world of danger and deceit, you are at the mercy of the Seven Sovereigns of Limbo, almighty gods that have sworn to be your protectors...as long as you prove yourself useful.

As the consequences of a plan set in motion long ago start to unveil, will love be the key to your freedom, or the first chapter of your downfall?

To obtain every CG, we reccommend playing the demo twice and testing different options! 

🔮 JOIN OUR KICKSTARTER PRE-LAUNCH!

✦ PLAY OUR DEMO NOW ON:

🔮 STEAM (MAC, LINUX, WINDOWS)

🔮 ITCH.IO (MAC, LINUX, WINDOWS)

🔮 GOOGLE PLAY

✦ THE STORY ✦

Lost in Limbo is a dark fantasy & romance visual novel taking place in the mysterious realm of Limbo. Take the role of River Winchester (full name and pronouns changeable), a human dealing with common-life problems, as you find yourself trapped in a foreign world.

Try to survive and go back to your family with the help of the Seven Sovereigns, gods who rule over Limbo and have sworn to be your protectors...even if their intentions may be completely different.

Which of the Seven Sovereigns will be in charge of your life is up to fate, but whether you fall in love or in disgrace... is up to you.

✦ THE GAME ✦

✦ Lost in Limbo is rated +17 and will include flashing lights, mild horror, disturbing imagery, mild jumpscares, implicit and suggestive sexual scenes and discussions, sensitive topics such as toxic family relationships, anxiety, depression, depictions of alcohol / drug use, etc. Each route will have content warnings available for the player. 

✦ The game and demo will be released on itchio and then steam. Other platforms (mobile/nintendo switch) are being considered and will depend on future kickstarter stretch goals.

Keep reading to know more about the game and the choice system, the cast, the MC and the Demo release!

✦ The game WILL NEVER depict gruesome scenes such as torture, sexual assault or any kind of overly cruel violence. The game has some fighting, a few deaths, and some unsettling descriptions, though!

✦ There will be four different choice systems that will give shape to your playthrough:

Trust Points centered around your Love Interest; a low level of trust can translate into Bad Endings*.

Plot-driving choices that will shape the story and its possible endings and the fate of the side characters.

Personality choices that will determine the Main Character's relationship with their Love Interest, as well as how the MC reacts to certain events, their abilities, hobbies, etc.

Flavor choices! These don't impact the game directly, but are there for the main objective of the game: having fun!

*In Lost in Limbo, there's not only one correct answer and one wrong answer. There's different ways of earning trust points without having to stick for the "one and only right answer", and mistakes can be redeemed...sometimes.

✦ Lost in Limbo treats consensual sex as a natural, integral and positive part of the game. Every Love Interest will approach it differently based on their experiences and their preferences; the player will have the choice whether to engage or not* without being penalized.

*Amon's route is strongly centered around the sexual tension between him and the MC, and how this attraction quickly develops into a physical relationship. Sexual scenes will be more frequent than in the rest of the routes and can be skipped, but happen nonetheless.

✦ This is a LGBT+ game.

✦ THE CAST ✦

The Seven Sovereigns: Because a family of gods can be a father and his six children...with all the problems that this entails.

✦ Lost in Limbo features seven Love interests and a wide cast of secondary characters yet to be revealed. Each Love Interest is in a different stage of their lives and has a past and personality that molds their relationship with the MC into different kinds of romance.

✦ The routes will be episodic, meaning that the game will update regularly with new chapters instead of the complete routes being released all at once.

As the older sibling, Amon had plenty of time to learn how to be a god living amongst mortals, and yet, that hasn't stopped him from indulging in mundane pleasures...greatly so.

A frantic-paced and intense romance in which a physical relationship blooms into love with a great deal of hardships to overcome.

Dedicated and brave, Praefectus Raeya takes her role as Limbo's protector extremely seriously, but the truth behind the realm's darkest times will soon put her loyalty to the test.

A woman bound by duty and a romance full of yearning and mutual pining. A route centered around trust, forgiveness and finding the strenght to fix what's broken.

Pronounced [ɡaˈel]

Master of the Grand Houses, Gael is admired for his humble and altruistic persona, but a dangerous secret has kept him away from love his whole life.

A fake-marriage scenario turns into a forbidden romance for a man who has been denied affection since the day he was created.

Stripped of their name and shunned after commiting treason, the Sovereign now known as Lord Envy lives a life of solitude—if only he could get rid of his siblings.

An enemies-to-lovers romance, a betrayed heart that needs healing, and a god who constantly denies themselves from being happy.

Kind and caring, Ara is not only determined to make your time in Limbo a happy thing to remember, but also to make things go back to the way they were, no matter the cost.

A charming and playful romance and the tale of a girl who takes matters into her own hands—for better or worse.

As the youngest sibling, no one expects anything from Xal, not even himself. He is seen as a good-for-nothing and a poor excuse of a god, but you two are about to prove everyone wrong.

A first love romance about a young god who was born in the wrong side of the universe, and how someone can be the reason to try again where you once failed.

Creator of Limbo, Father Pride has to watch over the safety of his realm and the happiness of his family. However, the life of the God of Limbo can be solitary...and that solitude can lead to one's demise.

A convoluted love story about a god that can't let go, as much as he wants to. A dramatic route where the right decision is never the easiest to make.

Pride's route is the sometimes hopeless tale of an all-mighty god brought to his knees. His good ending will be "harder" to obtain than the rest of the cast. It'll be the last route being written and produced because of its weight plot-wise.

✦ THE MC ✦

River Winchester (name and pronouns changeable) quit their job and had to move back to their childhood town to live with their mother and grandmother. Old family dynamics and the dread of an unknown future await them—as well as a cryptic nightmare they have been having since they were a kid.

A past buried under years of lies must come to light sooner or later, if you are able to put together the pieces of the puzzle and live to tell the tale.

✦ The MC is written as a young adult who is at least 21 years old. The player can headcanon their character as any age they desire, but every route is written so the MC is of an age similar to that of the chosen love interest, except for Father Pride who is older than the MC.

✦ The MC is a strong-willed individual who isn't afraid to jump into action. In the game, you'll be able to channel these characteristics in different ways. River is funny, kind and a bit too stubborn—but you choose how to manage those traits and whether to let them shine or not. The game will remember, so if you are not too athletic, maybe hitting that monster with a chair isn't a very good idea.

✦ The MC also has some default tastes, hobbies and memories. During the game, you'll be able to personalize how the Main Character feels about their interests, add new ones, or reflect about how the past affected them. The characters will remember this.

✦ THE DEMO ✦

FEATURES:

The first version of Lost in Limbo's prologue

Customizable first name, last name and pronouns of the MC (she/her, he/him, they/them) or use a default name; River Winchester.

Over ~42k words (around three hours of gameplay)

Seven CGs (one per character) + mini-CGs to enhance the experience!

Over 25 different choices (some of them timed!)

If you have made it this far—thank you for your time! We are sorry for the obnoxiously long post. We hope it has been useful to at least solve some questions you may have about the game. You can always ask us anything and we will reply as soon as possible! 💜

[nenilein]

Hello! Apologies for sending an ask out of the blue but considering your familiarity with localisation differences in persona 4/golden, I was wondering if anything comes to your mind regarding this aspect and how the game depicts queerness and queer themes? Thank you!

Heya! Don't worry, I was thinking people would probably ask stuff like this. After all, I already replied to somebody's tags asking this same thing previously, but I know not many people saw that, so let me use the chance to go into more detail:

Unfortunately, Persona 4's treatment of queer themes is not a result of the translation. The only things that were down to translation choices were small things, such as which pronouns are used in which situation (because Japanese does not at all have the same concept of third person pronouns as English, and the way first person classifiers that mean "I" work is very complex and a lot more vibes-based than actually tied to gender.)

But for the most part, everything is pretty much the same. Kanji's reaction to Chie mumbling about something being "off" about how he interacted with Naoto that first time, the tent scene, Yosuke's extreme insecurity in his own sexuality in addition to everyone else's... I think maybe the only thing that's a biiit better in Japanese is that Teddie is kiiinda genderfluid in Japanese, with the artbook outright stating that he doesn't necessarily consider himself "male" when he's in his bear form, unless it's necessary for a joke.

A lot of this can be traced to the really odd relationship the game's director, Katsura Hashino, has to queer themes. In interviews about Catherine Fullbody (a game which infamously has a rather weirdly handled gay romance route which, however, is notably also the only romance route in the game that cannot possibly result in a bad ending), he talks about how he's always admired queer people for being "strong" and wanted to write queer stories, but couldn't really do it until Fullbody because Atlus higher ups were afraid of backlash from the fans.

Traces of this are actually seen in Persona 4 Vanilla's data, where remnants of a surprisingly well done romance route for YOSUKE, of all people, are still present. That route made it far enough into development to have voiced lines in both, English and Japanese. However, it was dummied out in the final game and its script content was removed. Yosuke STILL has the "girlfriend flag" in the code that all the female romance options also have, but in the finished game it only checks whether you can hug him during his social link or not. Everything else was dummied out. You can still find the voice files on the cutting room floor if you want:

And yes, the "I like you" line is unambiguously romantic in Japanese. His wording is very hard to misinterpret.

However, in the finished game and the rest of the franchise Yosuke's bisexuality was reduced to an in-joke of the developers. It's most poignant in Persona Q (the first one), where if you get the "marriage" scene with Yosuke in the second dungeon, his reactions differ WILDLY depending on which Protagonist you are playing as, far more than other male characters. With Makoto Yuki he acts nonchallant and deadpan about it. With Yu Narukami he acts like a blushy Tsundere and panics constantly. So, yeah.

Okay, so, if the director had interest in writing queer stories since before Persona 4, why is Persona 4 the way it is then?

Well, because - and there's no way around it - he sucks at it.

Katsura Hashino has to be one of the clumsiest "gay activists" I've ever seen in my whole darn life. He finds queer people "cool", but seemingly never had any queer writers or sensitivity readers on his teams and it's caused enormous blunders in how these themes have been handled. For example, when after Persona 3 it was pointed out to him that the writing of the female characters in interaction with the male characters was bad, he immediately hired more female writers and gave them free reign for how to handle the female characters from then on out. But apparently the same thing never happened with his mishandling of queer themes. He wants Catherine's Erica and Rin to be empowering figures for trans women and gay men, but makes a lot of blunders in how he has other characters interact with them to the point it buries his good intentions. Erica's boyfriend having gay panic upon realizing she's trans is treated as "funny and cute", even by Erica herself. Rin technically being a monogender alien really undermines his story of becoming more secure in his sexuality. It goes on and on like that.

The intention with Naoto's story was to point out the extreme sexism in Japanese society and how it forces female nerds to find alternate modes of self-expression, but the clumsy choice of including surgery themes in Naoto's dungeon completely buried that for especially western queer audiences. Most people don't even remember Naoto's dungeon was outright modeled after a Kamen Rider villain hideout. They completely shot themselves in the foot with this one. Additionally, the way Naoto is handled AFTER the dungeon makes her (I'm using that pronoun because she calls herself a "woman" in Japanese in the game) seem more like someone who's on the verge of discovering they are X-gender (the japanese word for "nonbinary") than a repressed girl. Like, right down to how she has Rise help her experiment with clothes in the canonical drama CDs only to realize she really is uncomfortable with skirts and go for an androgynous but less restrictive look going forward. The way she dresses in the Golden epilogue and P4D is pretty X-gender core if you ask me. If they had leaned into that they could have genuinely have had something AMAZING, while also presenting the themes of sexism they wanted to explore, but the lack of queer sensitivity readers kind of ruined it.

Same for Kanji. The way they write him makes it seem like he's bisexual or pansexual, rather than straight, but they kinda shove that part of him aside after his dungeon is done, leaving his actual orientation up in the air and wasting a really good chance for representation. NOW, given what happened to Yosuke's social link, it's quite possible the original intent WAS to explore this more and it got cut, but as it stands, we'll never know. The huge problem of the internalized toxic stereotypes his Shadow presented never being reflected on and put into their right context in the rest of the game, when his social link could've given a great opportunity for that is also a huge shame.

All of this happened because of Atlus being unwilling to let their writers go all out with queer themes in fears of alienating a cishet audience AND because Hashino never sat his writing team down with any actual queer writers to sort this shit out and learn how to get across what the team was ACTUALLY trying to say. Now, given, Persona 4 was far from the only Japanese media property with that exact issue at the time, but it hurts especially much in its case because of the game's themes of exploring the truth to its logical conclusion, as well as psychology. These are issues that a remake REALLY would do well to address and correct. I feel like they actually will HAVE to do that, because sensitivity readers have become the NORM in handling these themes now in Japanese media, rather than the exception. You can thank trail blazing mainstream works like Zombie Land Saga for that.

All in all, Persona 4's handling of queer themes is an exercise in frustration that I hope is corrected soon.

[meldingintheunderdark]

The Drow twins and Halsin

Notwithstanding Halsin's peculiar predisposition with drow, yet another interesting topic about the man tbh, the foursome is honestly quite sad.

First things first, solo romanced Halsin ends up as a mute bear. There is none of the daring flirt present with Astarion and Shadowheart. Absolutely tragic. While I understand dirty talking to an ever changing PC would have been a logistical nightmare for Larian, the scene feels rather stale. But it's nothing compared with Halsin's behavior before, during and after the "Underdark experience".

Halsin: An intriguing pair. Takes me back to my youth... Sszazar: Interested, Halsin? Halsin: More than interested, if you feel the same. [...] Sszazar: I would like to hire both of you. And I hope my partner will join us as well. Halsin: So long as all are willing, I see no reason why we should deny ourselves...

Whilst I've read comments arguing Halsin is not enthusiastic at all or cocky and happy to show off, I disagree with the lack of nuance.

Clearly, during the initial talk to hire or not the twins, the bear is down to have fun with them and, from my pov, the fact they are drow is the driving force motivating his choice. He craves drow as much as he despises them (Lolth-sworn).

Sorn Orlith: I can't quite believe it - a night of passion with the famous Halsin? I might faint before I can expend myself. Nym Orlith: Legends spread of you throughout the city... We heard tell that you can change into a bear. Halsin: I hadn't realised I was that popular. But we must give the people what they want, mustn't we?

It's interesting to note the first allusion to his traumas happens during said talk. Furthermore, as soon as they're in complete darkness, Sorn immediately admits they know who he is. The twins explain that Menzoberranzan drow (they seem to hint they fled this city) aren't merely spreading rumors about Halsin but legends. In other words, his traumatic years are widely distributed folktales, retold over and over again. We know that legends are altered over time, thus I wonder if details are embellished. Since Nym mentions his wildshape the instant Sorn is quiet, I do believe his traumas are now a bunch of raunchy, bawdy tales Menzoberranzan drow like to share when they're feeling naughty.

Of course, some stories may come from his other visits. Unfortunately, the canon doesn't give sufficient info to differentiate their content, let alone their sources.

So, Halsin is already thinking about his captors, moreover he is physically vulnerable because they're all blind and butt naked, then he is hit with this information.

Halsin: I hadn't realised I was that popular.

This sentence alone is worth analyzing.

Halsin is already aware he is popular amongst drow (and everyone else with good taste in men). This is probably related to one of his statements during his love confession :

Halsin: And I've been to the Underdark. Many times.

He returned to the Underdark despite his traumas (or rather because of them), therefore he has surely been exposed to his fame. Some of it, at least, because the emphasis "[...] that popular" implies he doesn't know how famous he actually is. He is now exposed to the glaring fact that he is (and his traumas as well) fetishized to a certain extent by Menzoberranzan drow.

Halsin: [...] But we must give the people what they want, mustn't we?

English isn't my first language, so my interpretation may be erroneous. Nevertheless, the use of "we" instead of "I" intrigues me. In my opinion, the pronoun is very significant. Why does Halsin switch from "I" to "we" the very next sentence? Because he is diluting the first person with the pronoun "we". He's distancing himself.

"But I must give the people what they want, mustn't I?" sounds harsher. He must do it. It's an obligation. He's compelled to do so. The pronoun "we" helps him feel safer. He's trying to have control in the given situation. People write novels about Astarion dissociating, rightfully so, yet I believe that "I" vs "we" is a form of dissociation too. He sees the twins. He thinks about his captors. He is sexually attracted to the twins. He was and still is trauma-bound to his captors. He learns his traumas are saucy tales in total obscurity, naked.

But it isn't the icing on the cake yet.

If we rewind to the very beginning, who are Sorn and Nym? They're prostitutes. They are paid 1000 gold to service their clients. And yet...

Sorn Orlith: Will tonight at last be the night I die during an act of pleasure? [...] Nym Orlith: Doesn't it...? How does it even fit? [...] *The drow are filled with awe at your and Halsin's habits throughout the night, time and time again.*

In the end, Halsin is servicing them, like he did with his captors. He shifts to a bear because they want it. Their overeager reactions and the narrator line may indicate they are thrilled to get the famed bear and have him at their entire disposal. He is a legend. Do they truly ackowledge him as a common, but thick af, wood elf? Or do they solely see the mysterious hero of some spicy tales? I particularly dislike the scene because it seems Halsin and, in my case, Sszazar are observed rather than pleased by the twins. I suspect that for Sorn and Nym Halsin is an exotic toy and not a normal client.

Also, he only shifts back to his hunk self when the twins are out of the picture. In the closing shot of them all napping, he's still a bear. I assume he spent the whole night as a bear. Is it merely to become the best pillow available? I bet his wildshape make him feel safer.

Halsin: Indeed. Our time with them was... certainly bracing. Takes me back to some youthful misadventures in the Underdark.

Last but not least, the option to ask Halsin about his "misadventures" in the Underdark is available thanks to this encounter. Technically, Halsin can reveal his traumas without ever leaving the Underdark room at Sharess' Caress. His years of suffering are at the forefront of his thoughts and he opens up about them the moment he's asked by the one person who reciprocates care.

To conclude, I think Halsin did not have a grand time during the foursome, even if he appears eager at first. I don't believe the night was downright traumatizing, however it did reopen old festering wounds. His decisions are heavily influenced by his unhealed, unaddressed traumas.

It does bother me to read countless lame takes about Astarion vs Halsin, as if one deserves more care and attention than the other. They're both terribly traumatized. Because Halsin reacts differently to his traumas, because he is not the perfect, ideal victim, too many fans disregard his pain. The way I see it, the foursome is full of hints about his traumas. He's not dumping everything out of nowhere when morning comes. His pain was here all along. It's a fascinating encounter.

[rui-drawsbox]

hmm im curious. whats olba about :0?

Oh anon you have no idea of what you just asked-- let me get my teacher costume

AHEM

OLBA or Our Life: Beginnings & Always it's a visual novel where you can play the perfect life you never got and cry about how much you wanted it after you finish it :DD (available on Steam for pc and Itch.io for both pc/mac and android!)

You play as-- well, you (or not, you choose)! You can choose your name, last name, pronouns, appearance, personality, hobbies, everything except your family, but you wouldn't like to change them for anything after you meet them.

You start the game as an innocent 8 years old kid that meets a random guy that tells you that he just moved across the street, he also tells you about his son: Cove! who has the same age as you. This guy tries to bribe you with 20 dollars, you can accept or refuse (or run! i like that option), either way you end up in a poppy hill behind your house and find the so famous Cove! He tells (cry) you that his parents just divorced and that he miss his mom ( :c ), you can comfort him or not, but you two still will be found by both of your families and have to go home.

That's the prologue! Gameplay aspect: it consists in 3 Steps of your life: 8, 13 and 18 years old! Each Step comes with 5 Moments, where you can spend time with (mainly) cove, if you're playing the base game. Talking about base game! You can complete it in around 5 hours (that's what took me the first time i think), and it comes with a 4th Step that work as an epilogue!

There are 6 paid DLC's (and a free one that is a name pack), 3 are other 15 moments for the first 3 Steps, 1 is a wedding dlc for our lovely Cove <3 (we'll get to him in no time), and the last 2 are extra content for two characters you'll meet in your very first playthough: Derek in Step 2 and Baxter in Step 3 (you should know this one very well if you follow me lmao), each with 5 moments extra for their assigned Step and their own Step 4 where you can follow and give proper closure to their stories!

I'll try to not ramble a lot because it's something you just need to experience yourself to get it but-- i will introduce you to the love interests! (or friendship interests, you don't need to crush on anyone to have a great time)

Cove Holden! Our lovely neighbor that we see almost everyday for like 10 years! You could also call him the second main character after you, since you learn more about him and his family during all the game. He's an introvert and ocean nerd (in the cutest way possible), depending on your choices you can shape his personality/style and become best buddies, the sweetest couple or just remain neighbours that never really got along. (you'll learn to love him, platonic or not, trust me)

Another perk of the game is that no matter what you do there's not "wrong or right" (unless you feel bad for the characters, like me), your actions does have consequences but there's nothing like a "bad ending/good ending", after all it's just your life, it goes on no matter what! Unless you want to reach a specific scene you found online you'll never have to use a guide for anything.

Derek Suarez! A caring guy! mabye a little too much, he's the oldest brother of 3 and that shaped him in a way that he always feels responsible of everything😔. During his storyline you'll help him to learn how to relax and lean on other people :D!

Baxter Ward! A monochromatic gentleman, mischievous as a cat and emotionally repressed like a pressure cooker <3. Struggles a lot with making deep conections and being emotionally vulnerable, you can imagine about what goes his storyline lol.

He's my favorite, if you haven't noticed. He has that infuriating charm that only someone that unironically says "Hallelujah" has. A very dramatic route, he's a very dramatic guy, you should see how he texts in step 3 aghsdas.

Also! all the side characters are super likeable, from your family to the baker of that bakery that is metioned a few times!

ANYWAYS, in conclusion: this is a very relaxing game! If you like visual novels you should definitely give it a try, the amount of replayability this game has is insane. My recommendations for when you play are:

Try the base game first! If you like it you can buy the moments dlcs (theyre only 3$ each!), mabye the wedding dlc after that (if you want to marry cove that is, this one is 2$ btw), Derek's dlc and Baxter's dlc (5$ each) for last. Those are pretty much the release order but i that's also the order i enjoy the most!

(play this game at least 2 times trying different choices/personality, the differences are ughhhh/pos)

When you're playing for the first time you should play the moments left to right. On later playthroughs you should change the order to find new dialogues! theyre small things but omg theyre so fun

Have fun! do whatever you want, i literally said there's no bad or good ending, take advantage of it and be as foward or shy as you want, be a little shit or a literal angel! That is your life we're talking about.

[n0maku]

Some details from the Undertale Legends of Localization book

271 pages! If the localization of Undertale into Japanese interests you, I suggest getting the book off of Fangamer yourself. Anyhow, here's some details I noted from my reading:

-"mt.ebott is "toby" backwards, inspired by mt. itoi from MOTHER" (translation note from Toby to 8-4). This detail is also mentioned at another point in the book.

-An image of the debug tool that 8-4 developed to quickly jump to points in the game has "No Mercy" as a tab...(?) selector...(?). I don't quite recall what other names have been used for the route 'officially', so found it interesting enough to note. It is also referred to as such a few other times in the book.

-The name they used for the fallen human (shown in their debug tool menu image) is "Rose".

-Toby instructed the translators to keep ICE-E somewhere, even if to keep it funny the wordsearch got changed to something else.

-It has been known by people already, but the book notes how each item has three names! One standard name, one abbreviated for battle menus, and one abbreviated for battle menus during serious scenes. I think I recall some post calling it "Serious Mode"...? For example, the Butterscotch Pie goes in the battle menu from "ButtsPie", to "Pie" in the Toriel fight from "Serious Mode" . (Though, it says they cut the abbreviating for the Japanese translation as there were less space needed for the item names. I guess that means the japanese version didn't get any 'silly' item name variations...?)

Now, this gets pretty long, so I'll just put a readmore here...

-The translation of the Wrong Number Song comes up in the book, and it actually references that the main fan theory for who the "G" is is Gaster! BUT it reveals nothing about it basically. Toby remained mysterious about the "G..." person referenced in the call, with his note on it being "Character's name beginning with "G"... Actually, it might be suitably bizarre if you leave this line completely intact in English." Disappointing, but admittedly expected that this book wouldn't give any more details about it.

Apparently initially the localization team also thought it was meant to be "Gaster" and put a "Ga--" in an early draft, but it got overruled by Toby's decision to keep the call in English.

-A section emphasizes how while Monster Kid's dialogue uses ore, a more masculine pronoun, ". . .Toby designed the character to have no clear gender," and "Monster Kid's gender is never specified in the original script." I personally found it nice how the section asserted Monster Kid's gender neutrality and emphasized the pronoun choices being more purely used to reflect character, and chosen after consultation with Toby. -Onionsan's unclear gender led to the translators choosing for them to use watashi (which the section describes as a "polite, somewhat gender-neutral" pronoun), or simply "Onionsan" (which works to emphasize their childish vibes). -There is nothing about Frisk/their name is never mentioned. A section on Parsnik only notes that Hard Mode is accessed when you "give yourself a certain human's name." -Apparently Toby says Alphys is pronounced "al-feez"

-It is noted that Toby did not mean to reference the "it's over 9000!" meme with the dialogue "OH YES! MTT-BRAND OVENS CAN REACH TEMPERATURES UP TO NINE-THOUSAND DEGREES!" -For the (slightly inaccurate) Kitchen quote CHECK text (two lovers standing over the cauldron of hell...), Toby asked the translators to just translate it directly instead of grabbing the exact lines from the Japanese version of Kitchen. The section emphasizes how Toby was so unattached to it being a reference that he specifically requested the translators to not bother with it.

-There is a section on Entry Number 17 (the wingdings one, not the unused alphys one)! However, it is not referred to as such, merely vaguely talking about it- how most people never see some of the lines in Undertale, and the process of translating the wingdings. (They wrote out the Japanese translation with English spelling, keeping the same wingdings font.)

The image examples they use are images of the wingdings "THE DARKNESS KEEPS GROWING" and it translating to wingdings "YAMIHA NOUDO WA MASHITE YUKU". Funnily enough, the section notes ". . .it almost feels like these messages contain dark secrets. . ." and ". . .the localization team wanted to preserve the 'dark, mysterious, and unreadable' vibe in Japanese too." "Dark" twice... ha ha, these writers, I swear...

Sadly, no mention of Gaster or any other insight on the entry. An example sentence they use for Wingdings is "I EAT BUGS EVERY DAY," so uhhh maybe that's a clue that he's a bug eater? (I'm joking...) -"Asriel Dreemurr" being an anagram of "Serial Murderer" is confirmed to be intentional by Toby. -Toby notes how the "But it refused" line has two meanings: One, that it can mean "refused to die," secondly, that it can mean "'re-fused', referring to how the heart fragments fuse back together again." It's another thing that's been noted by some people, but a neat detail regardless!

Alright, that's what I've got...! There's a lot of other stuff, like how dialogue that was referencing other games was handled, (which is a LOT), but these notes are what I found the most personally interesting and relevant to Undertale.

[wanderingwomanwondering]

Maddie’s word choice when Buck told her about his date with Tommy in 705 was so gentle and supportive, as we’ve all discussed. But her words were also SO SLICK!!!

She was treading lightly because she of course knew that this was a sensitive time for Buck AND she also did some math in her head over the course of the conversation and realized that there’s a piece of the equation that Buck is missing. She couldn’t just give Buck the answer though. Some puzzles he’s gotta work out on his own.

So. Looking more closely at the actual dialogue…

Buck gives Maddie the rundown of the evening’s happenings. Maddie notices the date’s pronoun. Then:

Buck: Yeah, okay, I was on a date with a guy. Again, not-not really the point.

Maddie: Mmm, it could very much be the point.

Remember, Buck is upset with himself for lying to Eddie *and doesn’t understand why he did that* He thinks it’s about dating a man in general. I think Maddie suspects it’s actually about Buck’s unrealized/unexpressed feelings for Eddie. The lie Buck is reeling over probably isn’t about dating a man, but about dating the wrong man.

Back to the conversation. Buck explains his allyship, then:

Maddie: So-so now you’re more than an ally?

Buck: It was my first time, it was dinner and a movie, and I - I didn’t even make it to the movie.

Maddie is following Buck’s reasoning in the ally part of the conversation, but clearly not quite vibing with parts of it. She’s in support mode, basically honoring Buck’s process and his journey. But still trying to navigate her own in the moment reactions without freaking Buck out. Treading lightly.

After Buck’s last remark above, cue Maddie’s haunted facial expression in which she clearly reviews countless past events and conversations with Buck in light of his new discovery about himself:

Maddie: Wow.

Buck: What, ‘wow’?

Maddie: No, not ‘wow’. Like, ‘Wow. I didn’t think that’s where your interests would lie.”

From my perspective she clearly and firmly rejected the ‘wow, you’re queer, what the hell. Way to be a massive enigma little brother’ interpretation…because obviously she would reject that. But that second clarification ‘wow’ doesn’t mean what Buck thought it meant. I honestly do NOT think she was saying ‘I didn’t think/know that you might be into guys too’.

Maddie is basically Buck mom for all intents and purposes, and she knows him well. To be fair, most people close to Buck know him better than he knows himself in key ways so with Maddie’s canon comments about Buck’s sexuality over the years, there’s no way she didn’t have her hunches. Period. What I think Maddie actually meant was that she didn’t think Buck had eyes for any guy but Eddie at this point. After doing the new math in her head real quick, of course.

I think that tracks with what she said a little later and how she said it:

Maddie: Okay, I don’t think you’re a fraud, I just think that maybe you’re not sure of your own feelings yet. And if there’s something that you need to tell Eddie, you will. Just, in your own time.

Between that line and her facial expressions, Maddie was on a damn journey! Imho it took everything in her to not just say ‘Wait what?! Eddie is your person my guy let’s be so for real right now’. She was a mix of confused and exasperated in the home stretch of that conversation lol. Still she showed up, met Buck where he was at, and supported him.

Then to top off that whole ‘coming out’ and ‘feeling like a fraud’ scene, Maddie says to Buck “so tell me about the hot pilot” and the scene immediately transitions to Eddie in bed with Marisol. Yeah, Eddie is the hot pilot in question. Buck just hasn’t figured it out yet, and Maddie realizes **all of that** now!

[benegesseritofficial]

Pushing Daisies has immediately struck me as extraordinarily queer coded. Enjoy my rant.

This show came out in 2007 and yet Ned is an extremely gentle man in every aspect of his characterization. He was emotionally wounded as a child, a fact we linger on and explore at length. He drives people away but in an incredibly passive way. He isn't interested at all in the hot woman throwing herself at him. The only person he's interested in was his childhood best friend. The man is passive, sweet, and a romantic; not someone who would chase you but a prize to be won.

Chuck is literally named Chuck. Sure her name is Charlotte but when we first meet her she's in a dinosaur costume and her name is Chuck. No one's called her Chuck since Ned, and when he does again she only wants him to call her Chuck. Almost immediately everyone calls her Chuck. Also... Charolette Charles? Charolette is the feminine form of Charles. Gender fuckery is afoot from square one. And she's assertive. She has no trouble talking over Ned, or any other man for that matter. She cares deeply about feelings and emotions and her perceptions of right and wrong, and she will steamroll anyone who tries to contradict her. She kisses Ned first. She figures out how she can safely kiss Ned. They both wanted it but she's the one who starts problem solving. Now, her actress Anna Friel is slender, her hair is long, and she is dressed exclusively like a 1950s fashion model. She's 5'5", but dwarfed by Lee Pace's 6'5". But what if she wasn't? What if she was opposite a man who wasn't a fucking tree? What if these lines and actions were given to a woman who wasn't a size 2? What if Anna Friel wore jeans for even one scene while Chuck interrupts and problem solves and takes action? Well, the audience might start to notice that the character isn't very feminine at all. Chuck is all character and very little gender. She could really be played by anyone.

And finally, Olive. Dear, sweet, Olive, longing after a man who shuts down one half her advances and doesn't seem to notice the other half. Olive, who is bold and brash and catty and fun and (apparently, by the costuming department's choices) obsessed with '70s fashion. It's 2007. A gay writer cannot express his struggles longing after a straight man who will never care for him. Not in so many words. But he could write most of that character. He could just swap a few little details and pronouns. By the time a minuscule, high voiced actress is reading Olive's lines, the average straight viewer would never even guess. But there Olive is; a readymade gay icon, over the top and feminine and unapologetically attracted to men. Everything a more feminine gay man wishes he could be out in the open. Olive can tell gay men's stories when they couldn't use their own voices. Relatedly, once you see her and Chuck's aunts as drag queens, you just can't unsee it. When Olive first meets those two, they take her under their wing as a kindred spirit. In the course of telling a story, it's not a trope or action that makes much sense for straight women. Younger women don't seek out and value the advice of old women. Not on TV, not in the cultural wisdom of 2007 or today. Gay men on the other hand. Drag queens on the other hand. If you were in the culture, you understood to value your elders when they bestowed wisdom.

And none of that addressing the situation. Ned absolutely cannot touch the person he's in love with. He and Chuck kiss in (I think) the third episode. Chuck isn't a love interest, she is arguably his girlfriend for most of the series. And yet, a forced wall must remain between them. Chuck has to remain in disguise when they're in public. They are together, but still feel they have to restrain themselves. There is no clear future for their relationship, no matter how in love they are. Much like a gay couple might feel, years before widespread societal acceptance and legal recognition of their relationship. It isn't safe, and only a few close friends can know.

[thewrongmoon]

El's Possible Queercoding

been meaning to actually documents my findings on this for awhile, so I'm gonna go over some reasons I think its possible that El is gay, specifically just how I think she may be attracted to girls, whether you think that means lesbian, bisexual, pan, etc etc.

El's interest in femininity:

I think to further understand why El has an interest in feminine things, we have to look at how she was raised:

The children in the lab were pretty much stripped of a gender identity entirely. They all had the same haircut and hospital gowns. They all played with the same toys, most of which were puzzle games which have no societally assigned gender. It's worth noting that these short haircuts do have a masculine association (at least in modern western culture) and the kids also pretty much solely interacted with men. Really the only indication of their gender was the pronouns that they used for them.

The concept of different genders acting differently was probably completely foreign to El when she had just escaped the lab. We can see that she tries to strip in front of Mike, Lucas and Dustin and is confused when they all react negatively.

Being surrounded by all this masculinity, seeing someone feminine like Nancy for the first time (or at least the first time in years) is magical to El.

El takes a very quick interest in feminine things. Long hair, pastel colors, dresses...

What sparks more of a queer connotation is her interest in the feminine form. We see her appreciate the ballerina in Nancy's music box, which would very well just be because she thinks the dress is pretty or something, but she also singles out the figure on Mike's trophy.

Obviously I don't mean anything explicit by pointing this out, but as a lesbian I remember having a similar reaction to things like mannequins of women at a young age.

There's definitely a duality of her longing for a childhood where she's able to express her femininity that I don't want to dismiss, though. There's a shot where she stares at Nancy's childhood photos, and it's pretty clear she's wondering what her life would be like if she were raised like a normal girl. That storyline is further explored when she visits the Ives in season 2.

El was also previously not interested in Mike's nerdier hobbies, but when Max shows her comics, specifically ones with female superheroes, El is intrigued. She assumed comics were just about boys at first. We all poke fun at Mike for having a crush on Superman, but maybe we should stop to question if El had a thing for Wonder Woman?

Fashion choices - Mirroring other girls:

A classic quandary for anyone with same-sex attraction. Do I want to be them, or do I want to be with them?

We talk a lot about how Mike tries to wear and do things Eddie does (this was confirmed by the costume department), and how that totally makes it look like he has kind of a crush on him. But what about El?

In season 1 we definitely assume El wants to be Nancy. Her attempts of mirroring her are clumsy and largely influenced by Mike, Dustin and Lucas. After the wig comes off she just gives up, surrendering to her fate of never being "pretty."

In season 2, she wears mostly boys clothes provided by Hopper. The main makeover of this season is done by Kali, who turns El into her mini-me. This time we see El refer to her new look as "bitchin'" rather than "pretty."

Her new look is very punk inspired. Punk subculture has close ties with the LGBT community. As the punk scene is all about questioning/rejecting societal norms, queer people flocked to it.

In season 3, her makeover revolves around Max. While Max tells El to pick something that she likes, El still kind of chooses to resemble Max. In the beginning of s3, her hair looks like this:

But after her trip to the mall with Max, she chooses to part her hair to the right like she does.

They later have both their hair tied up:

Middle parts for both of them:

This is all to say, she mirrors Max's looks, because she likes Max. Not necessarily romantically? And there's also no way to tell if she's doing this consciously. But I feel like there's something in El's brain that just goes "pretty girl = I have to steal her look"

Which brings us to season 4:

Now, there's no makeover scene for her in this one. Disappointing, I know. But she's had a considerable glow up since season 3.

Her hair is now down past her shoulders. Now you may be wondering who her style inspiration is. And the obvious answer is Joyce, because she looks just like her.

But I would actually like to propose an alternative to her hair style inspo:

We can see that Angela pulls up the sides of her hair but still has bangs framing her face, similarly to how El styles hers.

Angela is an awful human being who bullies her, but she's also everything El wants to be: pretty, well dressed, well-liked by the people at school. This is precisely why she chooses her to lie about being friends with. She thinks Angela is cool, so Mike will think El is cool if he sees she's friends with her.

Let's move on to her fashion.

El's style is dependent entirely on layering in this season. But she has one staple in her closet, which we also see in seasons 2 and 3-- flannel.

The wardrobe department head has stated that they specifically wanted it to seem like she was wearing clothes from Will's closet.

Will has always been associated with flannel, wearing it almost exclusively in every season besides season 3. This is interesting because flannel is generally seen as masculine, and gay men are usually stereotyped as more feminine. He does wear those short shorts in s3 though so I guess it balances out idk, this is besides the point, moving on:

Flannels when worn on women are associated closely with lesbians. There is some historical basis here; back when women were first being allowed to wear pants (1940s), lesbians were some of the first to jump on it. Jeans were seen as most normal for women to wear, and flannel was usually paired with it. Flannel was warm, durable and practical. A lot of women in the work force wore it because it held up well. Usually work boots (doc martens in particular) were worn as well, which is why they are also associated with the queer community today (though it was more of a practicality thing than a fashion thing back then.)

From my research, it seems like lesbians wearing flannel became a stereotype in more popular media sometime during the 90s. This doesn't necessarily mean it didn't exist during the 80s, I honestly wish I could find more info on when exactly it became a well-known signifier of lesbians, but alas, I cannot find any good sources. Doesn't change the fact that we as an audience know of it's existence, though.

Wearing flannel definitely makes El stick out from the crowd. It was probably considered really normal in Indiana, where the temperatures are cold, but in California you really have no use for flannel in your wardrobe. The late 80s was also known for it's focus on loud colors and bold prints, which isn't at all like the muted, practical nature of flannel. You would definitely see waaay more men than women wearing it.

So El being seen almost exclusively in more masculine fashions would have probably been one of the points of bullying for her. I think her neurodivergent coding was also a factor, but that's an analysis for another time.

El's bullying: possibly homophobically charged?

So this is the furthest stretch I'm gonna make in this post. But upon noticing how often she wears flannel, I jokingly said in my head, "I wonder if they just saw her constantly wearing flannel and assumed she was a lesbian and that's why they started bullying her." And then I was like oh wait but what if actually that's what it was.

I'm assuming she was probably labeled as a tomboy for just wearing her brother's clothes. But then I began to imagine her interactions with girls like Angela which would have caused their hatred for her.

El has a habit of calling other girls "pretty." One of the first thing she seems to notice about other girls, actually. So imagine that Angela sees this girl in men's clothing, and the first thing El probably does with her is call her pretty. Would it be a stretch to assume Angela may have thought El was hitting on her?

I don't think she was, I honestly don't know if El knows how to hit on someone at all. But the perception of Angela and the school at large could have just been... "Jane is a lesbian."

We see other girls avoiding her. This would be a good reason (not morally, but logically, especially considering the time period) for them to do so.

There's also this line from Angela: (0:09-0:14)

Now, I first noticed this when editing a completely different video. And I had to rewatch this clip like 50 times to see if I was crazy or not (I still might be, lol.) But, does it not sound like Angela is.. saying "boyfriend" in quotes?

So I went back to rewatch Angela entering the roller rink, and her and her friend group seem surprised that she has a boyfriend. Now this could be just because El is unpopular and has no friends (that they know if.) But just like Ted Wheeler saying "our son with a girl?" could just be a dig at Mike being a nerd, other context makes me wanna look closer into this line.

Did they maybe think El only got a boyfriend to mask her "real" sexuality? It's definitely possible.

Paralleling El to other characters who are queer or labeled as so

This is a point I'm going to need to further expand upon on a later date. But in watching movies off the s4 inspo board, I've found a couple where the characters are meant to parallel El:

Let The Right One In-

I have a whole post on this parallel, if you want to read it.

So basically, El is Oskar in this parallel. Oskar is a character who is bullied for 2 things: being fat (this is better shown in the book the movie is based upon) and being possibly gay (this is also shown better in the book.)

Oskar does end up having a romantic relationship with a character who is gender-nonconforming. Not gonna go into that particular character's exact gender bc it's kind of debatable and their backstory is sad, but the character, in their own words, is "not a girl." Oskar himself seems to be bisexual, again, you could maybe debate this, but he is non-straight at the very least.

The character he's in a relationship with, Eli, has also had their gender identity stripped away from them, which could make another interesting parallel to El, character wise.

Welcome To The Dollhouse-

So this parallel is a bit less concrete, but the only one I could draw from it is that, once again, the main character being bullied is referenced in El's own bullying.

The main character of this film, Dawn, is bullied for two things: being "ugly" and being a lesbian. She is not actually a lesbian, but the kids bully her for being one, and girls avoid her. One goes as far to claim she was "making a pass at her" when all Dawn did was have a conversation with her.

Being paralleled to two different characters who were bullied for being gay is definitely a weird coincidence.

El's relationship with Max:

El has pretty unarguably romantic themes with Max.

It could just be the Duffers trying to break free from a trope, but in S4 Max takes up a damsel in distress role while El takes on a hero role, for like, the 4th time, please give this girl a break omg.

We see both Mike and Lucas attempt to save El/Max, but at the end of the season Max and El save each other. You could say this was with the power of platonic love, but there are some lines that really make you question if it could be something more.

Conclusion:

I feel like El being gay is a theory that has some legs to stand on! You could definitely go even further and find a lot of rainbow imagery with her, maybe some other small details. This was just my own findings.

[uta-makura]

The other day I was rewatching Chishiya's last scene at the hospital, and being the translation nerd that I am, I started focusing on the dialogue choices the Netflix subtitles took. I was a little baffled because some decisions felt a little out of place to me. Now, I only studied Japanese for about three or four years (which is very little when you've got an ideogram-built language in your hands), but I still felt like taking a look at the entire original dialogue. and boy was it interesting.

So I ended up writing an analysis on Chishiya and Niragi's last conversation, comparing the source text (in Japanese) and the Netflix subtitles' target text (in English). I watched using the subtitles without closed captions, so those are what I'm going to be referencing. I then ended up writing my own personal translation of their conversation. Please take note that I'm not an English native and that while fluent in English I might've lost some nuances.

If you're interested in some details of Chishiya's (and/or Niragi's) psychology that I believe got a little lost in the target text, bear with me and let's have a look at their conversation! In the first part I'm going write down both the source text and Netflix's target text (without cc), and in the second part I'm going to examine what those word choices mean and suggest my own personal translation when I feel it necessary. So - here we go!

韮木 / Niragi: 何か / Can I help you? (1)

苣屋 / Chishiya: あなたも心肺停止を体験されたらしいですね / Apparently, your heart stopped as well. (2)

韮木 / Niragi: よく知ってますね / How do you know that? (3)

苣屋 / Chishiya: 俺もだ / It happened to me too. (4)

韮木 / Niragi: 奇遇だな / What a coincidence. (5)

苣屋 / Chishiya: 死にかけたことで、何か変わりました? / Since you almost died, did anything change with you? (6)

韮木 / Niragi: どうかな。まあ、見た目が派手になったくれえだな。そっちは? / I don't know. Well, I guess I look flashier than before. What about you? (7)

苣屋 / Chishiya: 随分とダメな生き方をしてきたから、これからはもう少しマジな生き方ができそうな気がする。そんなところかな / Since I've wasted my life until now, I think I'll be able to live a more useful life from now on. That's about all. (8)

韮木 / Niragi: ろくでもねえ野郎だったのか、お前も / So you were a good-for-nothing jerk too, huh? (9)

苣屋 / Chishiya: まあね / Yeah. (10)

(1) [Lit. Something?] Here we see Niragi initiating a conversation with a stranger using directly the informal speech (known as ため口 tameguchi). It is very uncommon in japanese culture to approach an unknown person without using formal speech, thus this immediately frames his real-world character as someone who's direct and on the defensive. In my opinion, it is better translated with "Need something?", because I'd say it's a bit more aggressive and fits the character portrayal better.

(2) [Lit. Apparently, you happened to experience a cardiopulmonar arrest as well.] The first line coming from real-world Chishiya tells us two very important things about him. The first thing we notice is that he uses very technical, surgical words that definitely come from his medical knowledge: 心肺停止 shinpaiteishi is a complex word, not very much used in informal conversations. I believe that using a simple "your heart stopped" in the target text undermines Chishiya's portrayal as someone who's pretty knowledgeable about medical terms. So what I would do is write directly in the target text "cardiopulmonar arrest". The second thing we notice is the fact that, unlike Niragi, he approaches him using formal speech (known as 丁寧語 teineigo). This kind of talk is the most common and polite way to speak with an unknown person. He even uses the most respectful second-person pronoun, あなた anata, which comes out as quite detached as well.

(3) [Lit. You know that well?] Niragi's line is a direct response to Chishiya's display of medical knowledge. The most curious thing about this line, though, is the fact that Niragi appears to correct himself and use teineigo as well!This seems to be pretty unprecedented for his character, who's previously always been showed as aggressive and as direct as possible. Instead, here he falls in line with his interlocutor's formal speech use and acts polite as well. He's baffled by his vocabulary, sure, but he also replies in an equally respectful way.

(4) [Lit. Me, too.] It's funny, because what we see is a back-and-forth between tameguchi and teineigo: here Chishiya is the one using informal speech. Unfortunately European languages make this type of transition almost impossible to convey, but I think it is curious that after Niragi has adapted to the polite form common between strangers, Chishiya feels that no, perhaps informal speech is what feels more right. It's almost like he seems to acknowledge an unconscious feeling of already knowing that other person in some way.

(5) [Lit. What a fortuitous meeting.] Chishiya's switch seems to have made Niragi subtly more comfortable because he goes back to using tameguchi. Also, while I think "coincidence" is a pretty good translation, it fails to 100% convey the fact that 奇遇 kigū points at the coincidence of meeting someone. It's not simply "what a coincidence we both had a cardiac arrest"; its meaning is more along the lines of "what a coincidence that we both ended up sharing this hospital room". So once again the dialogue implicitly suggests that the two characters have some sort of connection.

(6) [Lit. Since you came close to death, did anything change?] The back-and-forth continues because Chishiya now returns to teineigo. He seems to keep the stranger at arm's length and to feel confused about whether he knows this person or not. Also, Chishiya doesn't ask whether anything changed with Niragi, because what he says is "did anything change at all?". His question is broad, referencing what could a personality trait, a new worldview, or something else entirely.

(7) [Lit. Who knows. Well, my appeareance has probably become more flamboyant. And you?] Some things to notice here as well. First of all, Niragi keeps using tameguchi; his speech pattern is pretty brash, considering the other person is officially a complete stranger who's settled on teineigo. He even uses そっち socchi as a second-person pronoun, which is not aggressive, but definitely feels colloquial. Another word choice I wanted to look at was the term 派手 hade. Now, this made me raise my eyebrows, because according to Weblio's Japanese-to-English dictionary, some of the meanings of this word are "flamboyant", "gay", "showy", "gaudy", "loud". Niragi is essentially comparing himself at the flashy way queer people are known to dress in (especially in Japan, where gay men in particular are still subject to stereotyping as funny and colorful people).

(8) [Lit. Since my way of living has been without purpose until now, I have a feeling that my way of living will be able to be a little more useful from now on. That's about it.] I'll give you three seconds to guess what Chishiya does in this line. Ready? 3, 2, 1... yes, of course he switches to tameguchi again. Once again his instinct must be telling he's got some sort of previous knowledge of this other person, and so he drops teineigo definitely. Moving on, a change that I think is important to apply to the target text is the translation of 気がする ki ga suru. It does not mean "I think" (which is a conscious action we make) and instead conveys the idea of "I have a feeling that", "I feel like" (which portrays a subconscious feeling we can't always explain). Borderland Chishiya had experiences that brought him to a conscious change of heart, but of course Real-life Chishiya doesn't know that, so what he references is a simple sensation he gets.

(9) [Lit. So you too were a worthless asshole.] Tameguchi remains the speech manner through which the conversation is carried. Niragi makes it even more personal because he uses the second-person pronoun お前 omae, which is specifically masculine in use and extremely forward, often used to directly confront the interlocutor. The word 野郎 yarō is one of the few Japanese strong insults and covers a variety of English epithets like "bastard", "son of a bitch", "asshole". Now the nuance may very but I think "jerk" is a little too mild for both the term used and Niragi's usual speech. We also see the use of the adjective ろくでもない rokudemonai, which can mean "good-for-nothing", but also "worthless", "insignificant", "up to no good", "without purpose". Once again, the nuance used here may vary.

(10) [Lit. Well.] Chishiya concludes their conversation with one of the colloquial expressions we see him using during the series, which is non-committal and generic. You could also translate it as "I suppose", "Yeah", "You could say so".

It was very interesting for me to observe how in the space of a few lines the two characters went from using polite speech and respectful pronouns to a way more informal and direct way of speaking, in just a matter of minutes. I also enjoyed seeing Chishiya's medical background making an appeareance in the source text, and his hesitance towards using an informal speech pattern with someone he doesn't remember meeting, but feels like knowing. I think there's a lot here that gets expressed in an implicit manner and in the source text only!

I definitely had a lot of fun writing this analysis, so since I'm kind of in an Alice in Borderland brainrot I may in the future consider observing the translation process of other (more important) scenes. But this was a fun approach to begin with. Thank you for reading if you've come this far!

[stormblessed95]

I have a question

Like Crazy is probably the most queercoded in Jimins songs, right after Filter.

But the song also begins with the pronoun "She's saying Baby come and follow me"

Some fans on Twitter are saying this is a reference to a gf or something.

Whats your take on this?

Hi! Thanks for your ask. Sorry for the delay in replying! And to start, I think it's fairly clear that I don't think Jimin is straight, in my opinion, based off my views. But in that same vein, I think he also likes women. I mean, he has shared previous school crushes on a girl with us. So a "she" in the lyrics of a love song, wouldn't ever really throw me off personally. But that's just me. On top of that, Jimin did share his notes of his lyric writing process for his songs on FACE. And we can see for Like Crazy, his original planned lyrics said "baby" in place of "she." So that probably got changed for a better flow, either he did that himself, or it was suggested to him by RM, Pdogg or one of the other people who helped and gave input to the song. Either way, I don't think it's indicative of a girlfriend or an ex girlfriend in anything factual. But everyone can think what they will and have their own opinions of it for sure.

Now, for me, honestly there is a lot of queer coding through this whole MV and through subsequent performances/choreo/promotions for this song as well. Lyric breakdown can be found here before we go further:

Music Video:

And my first post about Like Crazy, where I talk about the song as a whole, what I think it's about AND touch on the queerness of Jimins gender expression throughout the MV:

To expand upon that, the choreo is a huge part of that and this person did a pretty good job breaking that down and sharing their theory over the dance too.

On top of in the extra content for FACE, similar references get lowkey pointed out in the FACE Playlist video, both in the LC MV and the Playlist video. Which you can watch here

During the Set Me Free portion, things line up very similarly to Freddie's "I want to break free" video, where he cross dresses. And for those who don't know, he fairly openly queer as an artist. He was involved with both men and women regardless of never openly stating or confirming his sexuality (that I know of). In the video, we also see Jimin looking through vinyls, including Queen and Nirvana. AND in the LC MV set, we see on the wall writing that says "Set Me Free" "Moon" "Wake" among others AND a Queen sticker too.

I want to break free video:

He talks and makes references to accepting both sides of himself a lot. It's in his stylistic choices, his art, how he expresses himself. And it's been a repeated theme for AWHILE now and if you aren't seeing it... it's because you don't want to

To get deeper into it, some of the historic queer imagery and iconography Jimin used in this MV specifically and just in FACE promotions in general... would include Philip Johnson, the architect of the Glass House, openly gay and where the term "the glass closet" was coined from. A photo of his is once again in the FACE Playlist video.

Robert Mapplethorpe, his portrait on the jeans Jimin wore through the MV and several images in his photobook I believe too. A photographer specializing in male and female nude works, among other things. Including his most controversial work being his documentation of the gay male BDSM subculture scene.

In the photobook, he is pictured several times in an outfit where he is wearing Jean Paul Gaultier y/series Bodymorph jeans. Specifically he is wearing the "woman" set. The designer Specifically described this series as exploring and playing with the concepts of gender, he liked the idea of there being a mens set, and a womens set and them being able to overlap each other. The bodymorph clothing sets have naked human body prints on them. So!Yoon who recently worked with and is friends with RM (if not friendly with the other members too) also recently wore these in her album release as well. You can interpret him wearing these as you choose of course. I personally think it's speaks fairly clearly to the same things I was talking about above, with him referencing all things gender and how he is leaning into the more typical feminine iconography here with these pants for his softer side of the photoshoot for his album.

I think looking at the designs for both sets also makes it more clear which ahem, set, Jimin is wearing too. Lol and how some of the models are mixing the sets (including So!Yoon wearing the women's set as well in a diff color)

And lastly, while it might not have to do with the album directly, it does involve Jimin and is worth mentioning here as it was lowkey part of album promotions. During the first ever performance aired of Like Crazy on the Jimin Fallon show, Jimin worked with 8 backup dancers and one of them was nonbinary and shared their experience and how comfortable, welcoming, non judged and appreciated Jimin and staff made them feel the whole time. How they got to just be who they were the whole time. It speaks the type of environment Jimin cultivates around himself all the time.

Performance video:

And during the teaser that was shared of Jimin working on his album with Pdogg and others. They talked about how for 10 months, Jimin basically lived in Pdoggs house. They all just lived together and ate, slept, breathed this album. Lol and in the hallway of Pdogg's house, we see that he has a Stonewall rainbow art piece. Which if that is what that is, is very special to have the education over Stonewall and the support of for that in your home in Korea. I won't speak to it either way, if that is what it is, great. If it's not. I'm just going to enjoy a rainbow in the same shot as Jimin regardless. Lol

Teaser video:

At this point, there is deep references to historic queer iconography in so much of Jimins art, it's fair to say we aren't guessing anymore. He is as out as he can be without explicitly saying anything. For me personally at least. And no one is owed an explicit coming out from anyone for any reason. If you listen to what he says, what he sings about, what he photographs, what he dances, what he shares with us? It's all right there too see. So plainly. Queer people have always had to talk and listen between the lines. It's there if you want to see it. And it's fair for queer armys and queer people to react and talk about the continuous use of queer icons and imagery Jimin has used over the years. It's not assuming anything. It's just listening to what he is telling us and sharing.

Thank you for the ask. And thanks to anyone who read the whole thing. 💜