#*technically* it's not as bad as it could have been --

[retrosabers]

𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐝.

FICMAS DAY 5 - UNWRAPPING

A RETROSABERS X PANDAPETALS DOUBLE FEATURE

old man logan x fem!reader

summary: logan didn’t believe in exchanging christmas presents. so, you offer him something you know he can’t refuse. a night where’s he’s free to have you all to himself.

contains: 18+ content below the cut. MINORS DNI. making out, some dry humping if you squint, oral (fem receiving), implied age gap, a dash of angst, swearing

word count: 2.6k

a/n: you thought i’d let a whole season pass without a little taste of some festive smut? absolutely hilarious. this is my first time writing for old man logan, and i think i did pretty alright considering i have yet to watch the movie (i’m terrified of the pain it will bring)

any feedback is always greatly appreciated!

also, don’t be confused by the fact that this says day 5 when i still haven’t posted day 4, i’m writing these bad boys out of order

and finally, a huge shoutout & thanks to the wildly talented @pandapetals for agreeing to do a little collaboration! please go check out her blog and all of her amazing work! <3

FIND HER PART HERE

!! divider by @estrelinha-s !!

FICMAS MASTERLIST

“are you sure your eyes are closed?”

logan grunts. “they’re closed, darlin’. promise.”

he’s been sitting here for almost fifteen minutes now, waiting for you to bring out this so-called “surprise.” from the ambient lighting and freshly washed bed sheets, the man thinks he’s got a general idea of what it is, but you’ve been fiddling in the bathroom too long for him to be certain.

still, he appeases you, and waits patiently at the foot of your bed. even if it’s a little bit uncomfortable on his knees.

meanwhile you’re fussing over every little detail of your appearance in the groggy bathroom mirror.

this was your solution to getting around logan’s “i don’t need anything for christmas” rule. you always begrudgingly abided by it, save for the box of cigars that always mysteriously turnt up in his nightstand on christmas eve. you knew he could never turn it down, no matter how much he tried.

logan could never say no to a smoke break with a nice pack of cubans. and he most certainly couldn’t say no to you.

that's how you decided upon this whole scheme. dolling yourself up and donning a new set of lingerie themed to the occasion, knowing logan had no leg to stand on. because technically, you didn’t buy anything for him. you bought this for you. he just so happened to be the person who was going to help take it off.

or rip it off, knowing your man’s track record of impatience and eagerness.

you share the exact same sentiment, though your tendency to be anile overpowers all else. you know it doesn’t matter if you have a hair or two out of place, or if your lips are slightly over lined. perfection never mattered to logan, but it still didn’t stop you from doing everything in your power to be pretty damn close to it tonight.

even if it meant making him wait a few extra minutes.

you pay your reflection one final glance before sauntering out into the bedroom.

he smells you before he hears you.

your scent wafting into the room captures his attention more than anything else. logan’s senses may not be as keen as they once were, but the fragrance of you was something utterly unmistakable. a sweet yet sultry aroma that he ached to have on his skin, his clothes, anywhere, to keep him grounded. to remind himself that you were real and you were his. it only adds to the anticipation building inside, the mere seconds he has to wait dragging on like hours in his mind.

a wave of lust overtakes you as logan comes into view. somehow just the sight of him is enough to send a bout of arousal down to your core.

that crisp white dress shirt he always wears is unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled up to reveal those chiseled forearms you love to have wrapped around you. the soft glow of the lamp on the bedside table illuminates the weathered curves of his face so beautifully. a contrast to the ruggedness of his position; legs lazily spread wide and long, thick fingers tapping mindlessly against his thigh.

the picture of a real man. and he’s all yours for the taking.

the sound of your footsteps padding against the floor grows louder. obediently, logan’s eyes stay shut, despite the fact that the other aroma you carry is hot and heavy in his nostrils. his upper lip twitches with a knowing smirk.

so this is exactly what he had in mind.

on instinct, his thighs spread even further when he senses your approach, hands itching to find their place on you somehow. when your own stay glued to your sides, he takes that as his cue to do the same.

logan really hates to admit it, but there’s something about this little bit of mystery that’s got him going before you’ve even begun.

“you ready?” your voice comes out breathy, and if logan didn’t know any better he’d think you’re nervous. and truth be told, you were. not that logan wouldn’t get his kicks, you were certain of that. more so that you’d be unable to walk come tomorrow morning.

though neither of you would consider it a bad thing

“yes ma’am,” he grumbles in response, knowing exactly the effect it has on you. the cockiness on his face is inevitable when he hears your breath hitch.

tease. if that’s how he wants to play, you’re in for a long night.

with a quiet sigh, you splay your fingers over the expanse of his broad shoulders. the man takes it as permission, calloused palms wrapping around your calves and not daring to travel any further. he knows he’ll lose any remaining self control if he gets so much as an inch closer to the apex of your thighs.

“okay.” you murmur. “you can open your eyes.”

slowly, those dark irises begin to drink you in. his grip on you tightens as soon as he gets the whole picture, a visible tent forming in his dress slacks almost immediately.

logan thought you were the most beautiful women he’s ever seen under any conditions. didn’t matter if you were sick, if you were bare faced, none of that changed how otherworldly you looked in his eyes. but nothing, and i mean nothing, compared to the sight of you before him right now.

you look like something out of a dream. hair styled in a way that drives him particularly crazy, makeup done to highlight your features so elegantly in the dim light. the best, and quite possibly logan’s favorite part, however, is that your lips are painted a shade of red to perfectly match the ensemble adorning your body. it sparks a slideshow of rather lewd images in his brain, wanting the color scattered across his cheek, his chest, his cock. anywhere you’re willing to brand him.

he’s committed every inch of you to memory by now. countless nights of exploring, mapping out your curves with hand and tongue. and still, everytime he sees you like this, practically offering yourself on a silver platter, he can’t help but stare back as though this is the very first time.

especially when that crimson silk is accentuating your figure so nicely.

“do you like it?” you ask coyly, bottom lip tucked between your teeth like you’re not fully aware of the power you have over him.

logan scoffs out a laugh, dragging his hands higher and higher until they tug at your hips, pulling you to straddle his lap in one swift motion. you squeak at the sudden display of strength, forgetting that despite his age, he was still infinitely stronger than any man you’ve ever met.

even beneath the layers of fabric between you, the sheer size of him was impossible to ignore. fuck, and he wasn’t even fully hard. you bite back a moan at the outline of his length pressed between your legs.

“that answer your question?” he quips back lowly, smirking smugly.

you hum in content, pressing your hands further into his shoulders as you experimentally grind your hips. the pair of you preen at the contact, desperate for any form of relief after being pent up and waiting.

“careful,” logan grits out in warning. “gonna cum in my pants like a fuckin’ teenager if you keep that up.”

you tsk in response, cocking your head with faux concern. “can’t have that, now can we?”

logan shakes his head at your antics, eyes wandering back over your body once more. before tonight, his favorite set of lingerie you owned was a black lacy number. simple and classic. but the more time he spends inspecting what’s currently adorning your frame, the more he thinks that red might be his new favorite color.

something warm spills over him when he glances at your chest again. something different than what he normally experiences every time he catches a glimpse of your cleavage, anyways.

“is that a bow?” he questions, a little bit amused.

you let out a soft giggle, nodding in reply.

“wanted you to be able to unwrap your present.”

you can count the amount of times logan has laughed, really truly laughed, on one hand. and as much as it sounds like music to your ears, you’re rather confused as to why he’s laughing right now.

“what’s so funny?” you huff, brows knit together and bottom lip jutted in a near pout.

logan averts your inquiry, burying his face in your neck so you can’t see him grinning like an idiot. instead, he busies himself with dragging his lips up and down the column of your throat, reveling in the breathy moans spilling from your lips with each and every press against your skin.

from the moment you met logan howlett, you fantasized about that salt and pepper beard. longed to feel the delicious sting of scruff against every part of you. as addicting as it is, the sensation isn’t enough to keep you completely distracted.

“logan,” you whine, titling your head back to grant him more access. “m’serious.”

he doesn’t halt his ministrations, too consumed with making sure your neck is painted every shade of lavender under the sun. he only stops when you rake your fingers in his hair and physically pull him off, much to both your dismays.

you give him a look. that pursed lips, narrow eyed “what aren’t you saying to me” look that signals he’s going to have to fess up to whatever’s on his mind, or else the evening would be coming to an end right here and now. from the way he’s about to burst through the zipper on his dress slacks, you know he’s not considering weighing options.

logan sighs heavily. if you didn’t know all the variations of the sound, you’d think he was upset with you. but that was far from how the older man felt. he begins to examine your face, observing everything from the slopes of your bone structure, to the color of your irises. he studies your features like an artisan in a gallery, content on not missing a single detail.

after a moment, the corners of his mouth turn up a hair. eyes almost dopey; filled with a lovesickness he never thought could be possible.

“you’re somethin’ else, y’know that?” he murmurs into the air, rough fingertips tracing back and forth across your spine.

you speak the language of logan fluently, knowing exactly what the underlying message of his words were. in reality, he was saying, “what did i do in this life to deserve you? will you ever know how much i love you? i hope you’ll be mine for as long as you’ll have me.”

suddenly his round of laughter from before rings brighter in your ears.

instead of saying another word, you guide his face to yours, connecting your lips in a silent understanding.

logan always kisses you like a man starved, devouring you whole as though every kiss may be the last. there was nothing tame, or tender about the man they once called the wolverine, but you managed to slip between the cracks of his stony disposition, and bring forth all the parts of himself he swore he lost decades ago.

your hands encircle around the back of his neck, logan’s squeezing at the flesh of your hips. he pulls you impossibly closer, pressing the swell of your chest against his own. the feeling of your nipples pebbling through velvet fabric reminds him of the true nature of your current situation.

tonight was for him. his pleasure, his enjoyment. he knew you’d be heavily dissatisfied if he didn’t indulge in what you were offering.

and what kind of man would logan be, if he disappointed his sweet girl?

you’re not expecting him to be so gentle when he turns and flips you over, mouth never once leaving yours. a large hand spread across your back as he lowers you down onto the mattress with a care reserved for you and only you. a fact that adds to your current state of arousal. your legs open like second nature, and logan slots himself between them as though that’s where he was always meant to be.

the whine that leaves you when he pulls away would be embarrassing if it weren’t for the hunger in his stare. those normally hazel pupils now a brownish black that overshadowed bright white. he sits back on his haunches, glazing over your pretty little lingerie with a newfound appreciation.

he reaches to toy with the end of the bow tied snugly between your breasts, a teasing invitation that he graciously accepts.

at a tantalizing pace, he begins to unwrap his present, watching with lustful eyes as more and more skin becomes exposed. you arch your back the slightest bit to get the job done faster, the shoe of impatience now snug on your foot instead of his.

normally, logan would scold, spit something about “being a good girl and waiting.” but he’s just as riled up and eager as you are, and he gives the velvet one final tug that has your breasts springing free.

god you were absolute perfection.

he can’t resist running a thumb over your erect nipples, reveling in the way you squirm over such a small touch. your color coated lips swollen and shiny from his kisses. body already relaxed and pliant, willing to do whatever he so pleases.

a few minutes ago, he would’ve torn your outfit off without second thought and shown no mercy. let the shitty week he was having take control, guide him through the motions of achieving pleasure. but something inside logan urges him to be a little sentimental; take his sweet time on the off chance that he wakes up and discovers this was all a dream.

so he decides that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

the path down to your core was a familiar one, a route he knew like the back of his hand. sloppy, wet kisses trail down your stomach, a small crack in logan’s otherwise composed exterior. by the time he reaches the hem of your panties, tongue teasing beneath the waistband, you’re bursting at the seams with desire, unable to stop yourself from whimpering and bucking your hips upward.

“i gotcha honey,” he whispers against the inside of your thigh, rubbing soft circles with his thumb. “m’gonna take real good care of ya.”

logan knew you were soaked the second you walked into the room. didn’t need to see or feel it to know. still, he indulges his ego and stares proudly at the dark patch in the center of your underwear. knowing it was all his doing, that he was the only one who could get you like this.

when he pulls the fabric to the side and is met with your glistening folds, he can’t help the groan that rumbles in his chest.

“merry fuckin’ christmas to me,” he all but growls before diving right in.

it’s in moments like these where he wishes that photographic memory was his mutation, though he doubts he’ll ever forget this. his perfect girl, laid out so delicately beneath him, basking in the pale moonlight that seeped in between the curtains. his own personal utopia, paradise within the four walls of this rickety building you called home.

logan wonders if maybe he’s finally succumbed to the poison in his bones. because this sure does feel like heaven.

at the very least, it most definitely feels like christmas.

because having the privilege of watching you come undone was the gift that kept on giving all year round.

thanks for reading! <3

taglist: @alastor-simp @j4desblurbs @pandapetals @hextech-bros

!! if you would like to be tagged in the rest of the ficmas blurbs, please send me an inbox message or leave a comment !!

[oblivious-aro]

This was pretty much my exact same thought process a week before I made this post. I do get where you're coming from, but here's a question: when does the episode explicitly condemn Danny for cheating? Does TUE actually say “cheaters deserve to watch their family die”?

Furthermore, consider this line from the end of the episode:

Remembering this line was my turning point. Clockwork is a very wise character (he was literally just established to be omniscient right before saying this), and he’s the one teaching Danny the lesson TUE wants him to learn. If the lesson is supposed to be ‘cheating is bad’, wouldn't that be completely undone by having Clockwork immediately turn around and, by his own admission, and in those exact words, “cheat”? It’s a very prominent line with a lot of attention called to it, too.

“Cheating is bad” is the kind of moral you’d expect this kind of kids cartoon to make, so I think a lot of us preemptively filled in that blank without truly listening to what the episode was actually saying. I get it, I watched my sister struggle through the public education system while getting practically no help or sympathy from it, and I'm sure a lot of viewers were in the same boat as her. Academic pressure can be a sensitive subject, especially if it looks like a character is being chastised for struggling, but that's not what’s happening here. We jumped the gun. The text doesn’t look down on Danny for wanting to cheat. He’s in a difficult position, and being forced further and further into a corner is a feature of the story, not a bug. Danny's situation feels unfair so that the audience understands why he wants to cheat:

"OK! I get it! You're brilliant, I'm stupid, and I'll never be able to get as high a score as you."

"Guys, come on. I'd love to have spent the last month studying, but I was fighting ghosts! Besides, if you two think this test is so meaningless, why do you even care if I cheat? Why shouldn't I open this up and study the answers, huh?"

TUE’s stance isn’t that “cheating is evil”, it’s “cheating isn’t worth the risk”. Despite what Danny’s been led to (erroneously) believe, he’ll have other chances and opportunities if he does badly on a test, even one this big. There are people in his corner looking out for him (Mr. Lancer gives him to come forward even when he knows Danny stole the answers, and literally offers him a make-up test. Clockwork messes with the timeline just to tell Danny that he’s a good kid who deserves more than one chance), but getting caught cheating really could screw up his future. You could still say that’s an anti-cheating message, but the writers do show more sympathy for Danny than people give them credit for.

I don't think the concepts are that abstract. Everything that happens in the present is presented directly, and the main idea you need to get out of the future stuff (bad stuff happened because Danny got caught cheating) is pretty simple and clear. Everyone I've heard talk about the episode seems to get the basic idea.

As for all these events caused by Clockwork… yeah that's 100% true. But given that Clockwork is all-knowing, the master of time, and clearly sympathetic to Danny, it can only be assumed he’s doing what he can to help Danny. Omniscient/psychic characters are kind of weird like that. They make the stories they’re in a bit messy, and you can't really judge their actions by typical standards (ie. Garnet from Steven Universe). Same with time travel, but I won't go into much into detail, because this post is long enough and discussing rules around time travel can get overly technical, but the gist of it is Clockwork is on Danny’s side, but he’s working under some very specific restraints, either from The Observants or from the natural laws of the timestream.

Danny isn’t being taught that cheating makes him bad, he’s being taught not to place such unhealthy (and unrealistic) importance on his academic performance. Sure, this lesson isn’t explicitly stated in exact words, much like the themes in Teacher of the Year, but I don’t think it’s fair to say that the writers were just trying to condemn Danny in either intent or execution.

And as was the original point of this post, the episode really speaks for itself:

"Maybe that's all anybody needs…a second chance."

"I guess the future isn't as set in stone as you think it is."

"And here we are with you, a fourteen-year-old child, risking everything to save the people you care about. You've given everyone else a second chance. Why not you?"

Me for years: I can't believe The Ultimate Enemy is telling kids they deserve something as horrible as watching your entire family die for cheating on a test!

the Ultimate Enemy:

[1425fivefive]

the people yearn for virginity landoscar (from the kink prompt ask)

“This is your first time, yeah?”

Oscar sort of wants to laugh. Remind Lando that they fucked last night, that Lando shoved him over the desk in their hotel room and fucked Oscar until he was coming all over the lacquered wood, his cock trapped between his stomach and the smooth surface. They’d cleaned it up after, but Oscar reckons you could probably still see a stain if you looked closely.

But Lando’s looking up at him with a breathless expression and Oscar can tell how much this turns him on. The idea of being the first one to have Oscar like this. 

Oscar wonders how much of it’s some twisted little power play on Lando’s part, a shitty attempt to erase what Oscar told him about Mark. And, like, Oscar had fucked girls before Mark. He hadn’t even been a virgin, technically, but Lando had still been pissy about it for days. Only seemed to get over it when Oscar let Lando fuck him bare for the first time.

But Mark’s been around the paddock more lately and Oscar wonders if maybe Lando needs this. Needs to feel like Oscar’s choosing him. Like whatever was going on between Mark and Oscar didn’t just end because Mark finally felt bad about fucking his twenty-two-year-old mentee while he had a wife and kids at home.

Oscar spreads his legs a bit and says, “Yeah, uh, it’s my first time.”

Lando’s eyes go desperate and dark at that, and he turns his head to the side, sucking a mark into Oscar’s thigh.

Oscar can’t hold back a moan, hips hitching toward Lando, silently begging for his fingers. Would a virgin do that? Probably not, Oscar thinks, but it doesn’t matter when Lando’s grabbing the lube and squirting some onto his hand, bringing his fingers down to rub gentle circles over Oscar’s rim.

“Fuck, Osc,” Lando murmurs, eyes dragging up Oscar’s body to land on Oscar’s face. “Feel so fucking tight.”

Oscar whimpers at that. It’s not an act, not when Lando’s telling Oscar how tight he is in this low voice Lando only uses when Lando’s out of his mind with need.

“You like hearing that?” Lando asks. He dips the tip of one finger into Oscar, just the hint of a stretch. “Like hearing how good you’ll feel around my cock?”

Oscar whines, nods.

“Gonna open you up with my fingers, yeah?” Lando asks, pressing his finger a little deeper. “Get you all nice and wet and open for my cock.”

“Fuck, Lando,” Oscar moans. “God, that’s—” He trails off as Lando pushes his finger in, immediately crooking up, dragging over Oscar’s prostate.

Oscar’s back arches off the bed, fingers scrabbling at the sheets.

Lando grins. “That’s the spot, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Oscar pants, grinding back against Lando’s fingers. “Yeah, I—fuck.”

“Anyone ever touched you here?” Lando asks idly, like he’s not fingering Oscar open, driving Oscar out of his mind with need. “Reckon you had no idea how much you like being touched like this.”

Oscar whimpers and shakes his head, frantic. It almost feels like the truth.

Oscar’s always liked having his ass played with but it feels like no one’s ever touched him there before. Everything feels so incredibly heightened, like maybe his body’s convinced itself that this really is his first time. That his first time wasn’t at Mark’s shitty rented flat in Monaco.

This would’ve been better, Oscar thinks. With the way Lando always pays such close attention to him, to how his body’s reacting, to whether something feels good. Oscar can’t help but think that would’ve been nice. Nicer at least than whatever the fuck Mark did. Pressed Oscar down onto the bed and told him to relax in that gruff voice of his that doesn’t leave any room for argument.

“Gonna give you another,” Lando murmurs. He bends down to press a kiss to Oscar’s stomach and adds, “Okay?”

Oscar’s not sure why he feels tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. But he nods, whimpering at the feeling of Lando pushing another finger into him.

“Good, Osc,” Lando says softly, starting to fuck his fingers in and out of Oscar, still gentle, so fucking gentle.

When Lando presses a third finger to Oscar’s rim, Oscar must make some noise of discomfort because Lando retreats immediately, pressing a soft kiss to Oscar’s stomach. He ducks his head down and licks over the head of Oscar’s cock, grinning when Oscar lets out a shocked moan.

“Fuck, baby,” Lando breathes, staring up at Oscar with something that looks like awe. “Has anyone ever sucked your cock before?”

Oscar whimpers, shakes his head. It doesn’t feel like a lie.

“Fucking hell,” Lando says, letting out a delirious laugh. “I get to be the first to taste you?”

“Yeah,” Oscar whines, voice high and choked. “Wanted you to be my first.”

“Jesus, I—” Lando doesn’t finish his sentence, just leans down and suck Oscar cock into his mouth, moaning around Oscar’s cock.

Oscar keens, head thrashing to the side, hand flying down to Lando’s curls, desperate to ground himself. But Lando knows exactly how to suck Oscar’s cock, knows that wrapping a loose fist around the base and sliding it in sync with his mouth will have Oscar right on the edge in no time at all. Lando’s showy about it, flashing his eyes up to Oscar’s, grinning around Oscar’s cock, dragging his pink tongue up the length and suckling at the head. It makes Oscar feel insane, makes Oscar worry he might come before Lando even gets his cock in him.

Oscar’s so caught up in it that he almost doesn’t notice Lando pressing a third finger into him, only figures it out when his rim tries to tighten and can’t, stretched too wide around Lando’s thick fingers.

Lando seems to notice Oscar’s rim fluttering uselessly because he pulls off Oscar’s cock with a groan, staring down at where his fingers are disappearing into Oscar.

“God,” Lando moans, fucking his fingers into Oscar, watching Oscar’s rim stretch.

Oscar flushes under the attention, humiliated and turned on by the idea of Lando staring at him there.

“Don’t,” Oscar pleads, thighs trying to close, stopped by Lando’s body between them.

“Why?” Lando asks, still watching his fingers fuck into Oscar, fingers hitting Oscar’s prostate each time. “You’re so pretty down here.”

Oscar lets out a strangled noise, toes curling, fingers tightening on the sheets, body drawing tight tight tight. He doesn’t realize he’s going to come before it’s already happening, his orgasm spilling out of him like he’s letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He’s letting out these awful, shuddering moans, staring down at his cock with a shocked expression as he keeps spurting across his stomach.

Lando lets out a desperate noise but he works Oscar through it, keeps his fingers pressed against Oscar’s prostate, thrusting steadily as Oscar keeps coming.

As Oscar finally stops coming, he slumps against the bed, thighs splaying open, chest heaving.

“Jesus,” Lando breathes, fingers still buried inside Oscar.

Oscar can’t look at him, suddenly, horribly humiliated by how easily he came. He tosses his arms over his eyes, inhaling a shaky breath.

But he feels something wet dragging over his stomach and he has to lift his arms up, looking down to find Lando licking over his stomach, lapping up his come.

“Fuck, Lando,” Oscar breathes. “You don’t—m’sorry.”

Lando pulls off, frowning. “Why’re you sorry?”

“Just like—for coming so early,” Oscar says, flushing at having to say it out loud.

Lando snorts. “All good.” He presses another kiss to Oscar’s stomach, before propping his chin there, smirking up at Oscar. “Guess you really are a virgin.”

Oscar wants to be annoyed but all he can do is let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head.

“Plus, like, we’re young,” Lando says with a shrug. “Reckon you can go again. Still need to, like, officially deflower you and all.”

Oscar’s about to say something, but Lando’s shuffling back down to lick over Oscar’s softening cock, eyes crinkling when Oscar lets out a high, desperate whimper.

[phoenixkaptain]

Really all three of the Sonic movies are a masterclass in making films geared towards fans while still creating new stories, but Sonic 3 especially because like. They listened! The fans said “we don’t like all these human parts” and the movie went “alright” and there are almost no scenes starring solely the human characters. Even in scenes prominently featuring them, Sonic and friends either show up (making the scene no longer solely focused on humans) or they’re focused in some way on what Sonic’s doing. Like damn man, they really… Listened? And accepted the criticism they received?? And improved??? And they even technically made the wedding subplot in 2 relevent to the plot????

I really liked the movie! Part of that is my fondness for Shadow, who I will never ever get over being the saddest little ultimate lifeform in the whole world. And movie Shadow really ticks all the boxes, I mean- the way he talks so stiltedly? The way he skates? The way he teleports? The fact that he doesn’t even initiate the majority of fights? The fluffiest little ultimate lifeform in ever, truly, 2024/10 for the year of Shadow-

I like this Shadow. The opening scene of him escaping is just beautiful. Him being all drenched filled me with an urge to blowdry him so he could puff up like a lil angry cat. He’s so legitimately awkward and confused watching the Eggmans that I watched his expression more than what either Robotnik was doing. He looks so confused! He’s over there like “somehow, the human has grown weirder with age… and here I thought humans were supposed to grow wiser…”

Also Maria’s face when Shadow gets sad because the movie they’re watching is called “Alien Freak” or whatever??? Beautiful, amazing, outstanding, give this lady an Oscar.

Sonic’s relationship with Shadow throughout the movie is so fun to watch progress. He just canNOT stand this guy!!! This new hedgehog who has definitely been around longer than him!!! Let Sonic be angy, it is so cute.

Tails and Knuckles are also very cute, though they feel a lot more sidelined. Which, I mean, literally every single character aside from Sonic, Shadow, and Robotnik have no character arc. And that’s fine! That’s good, even! Side characters don’t need to be focused on so intently! It only feels strange because Sonic 2 was so different in where it focused, but it isn’t a bad thing! Do I wish there was more Tails? Always. Do I think Knuckles was great just because he could have punched through the barrier really at any moment? Absolutely. I think the characters fit their roles in the movie very well.

All in all, I like Shadow. He is the saddest little ultimate hedgehog lifeform in the history of ever. He isn’t even all that angry for most of the movie. He’s just sad and lost and hopeless and it’s very depressing! Guy really tried to taunt his way into being killed, and I just think him trying to irritate Sonic into committing murder is funny, especially since it very nearly worked. Also, the scenes of Shadow jumpscaring everyone makes me assume that he has been jumpscaring people for years, which causes me to imagine that there were many occasions of GUN agents finding a Shadow where there was not a Shadow five seconds before. When did he get into the cupboard? How long has he been standing behind that door? Can we put a bell on the hedgehog, please, this is getting out of hand!

In my imagined future Shadow series where Shadow becomes friends with Sonic and pals, Maddie makes him wear a little bell so he stops giving everyone heart attacks. He still manages to give everyone heart attacks. I like to think they will occasionally wake up to find him standing at the foot of the bed ominously. Shadow is a eldritch cat monster, I’m pretty sure that was made canon-

Anyway. TLDR: 10/10 movie. The creators listened to the criticism they received on the second movie and made changes. Shadow was perfect. Sonic being taken off guard by Shadow will never not be funny, nor will their banter grow old. The dog has subtitles and I can only assume it’s because Knuckles and only Knuckles can understand him. Stone’s love was reciprocated in the very end. And yeah, I’m with the menacing hedgehog, Gabriella should have just killed Juan and Pablo both and been done with it.

[rainebelowzero]

May I request an abduction-play story? :3 (sorry I didn't know how to word this x3)

Kurt Kunkle X Dom Male Reader

notes: sorry this took so long :') anyways, I think this is the last request I had in my inbox and I have lots of time on my hands so please request stuff, also I love all of you guys, I've seen so many people that have been around since the beginning in my notifications so I wanna thank you guys for sticking around and also welcome the new people, I plan to be way more active so don't worry, I won't disappear again😋

cws: kidnapping, having sex on stream, roleplay (technically), the reader is mentioned to be an influencer but it's up to you if that's real or just part of the roleplay, using spit as lube (i know that's cringeworthy in real life but lets just pretend its an acceptable replacement for lube in this)

‘What the fuck?’ You think, your eyes opening hazily. You're….in some room, but not one you recognize. Your head hurts, and you can't even remember where you were before this. You were leaving a party one of your influencer friends was having, but other than that, you couldn't remember what happened.

You look around and realize you're tied to a chair, and you try to yank your arms back but they refuse to budge, making you wince at how tight the rope is. You huff, leaning back in the chair, trying to examine your surroundings and figure out what to do next.

Suddenly, a man comes into the room, a crazed look in his eyes despite his calm demeanor as he stares at you, holding his phone. You squint up at him.

“I wasn't expecting y-you to be awake yet.” He says with a small laugh. “Do you…remember anything?”

You don't even really want to talk to him, but knowing it's probably the only way to get out of this, you do so begrudgingly.

“...no.”

Kurt frowns, almost like a kicked puppy. “But..you said you would give me a shout out, you can’t- you don't r-remember any of that?” He asks disappointedly, his voice whiny and kind of annoying to you.

But something else he said…you said you would give him a shout out? It makes you remember what happened better. He was your weird Spree driver that you got on your way home. He made the conversation super awkward when he brought up your following and kept asking to collab, so you agreed to give him a shout out just so he would leave you alone. You drank out of a water bottle and then…you woke up here.

You glare at him.

“You're that fucking freak from the rideshare, aren't you? What the fuck is wrong with you?” You ask, once again pulling at the rope.

Kurt frowns again, moving a little bit closer.

“There's no need for insults." He says softly.

“This is seriously pathetic, you expect me to, what, just tell people to follow you? Maybe make better content, dude.” You say with a bitter laugh.

He looks genuinely hurt by what you said, and for some reason it briefly makes you feel bad, though that feeling instantly goes away. It makes you realize that he might be easy to manipulate. You could work with that.

“H-hey, I work hard on my content! And I’ve- I have a lot of fans.” He replies defensively. You put on a fake guilty expression.

“You're right,” Saying that makes you cringe, but you continue. “I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry. But I can't get into my phone if I'm tied up.”

You can see him considering letting you out, but then he grins and leans forward, pulling your phone out of your pocket.

“That's okay, I can do it myself.” He joyfully holds up the phone to unlock it with the face ID, but he frowns again when you start shutting your eyes and moving your head to stop him from unlocking it.

He grabs the back of your head, trying to force you to stay still to unlock the phone. You wince and glare even harder at him before turning your head and spitting at him, hitting him in the face. He steps back, shocked with wide eyes as he loses his grip on your hair. You swear you can see his face flush as he wipes it off, suddenly very fidgety. You squint, watching him as he avoids eye contact with you, his hand holding the phone slack at his side.

“Were you fucking into that?” You ask. This man is a freak. Little does he know, there isn't a person alive you can't outfreak.

You finally see a way to get untied, and you slide forward a little bit, spreading your legs as you stare at the man.

“Your name is Kurt, right?” You ask, lifting your leg and nudging him with your shoe, trying to get him to come closer. He does, hesitantly. He nods at your question, glancing down at your lap and then back at your face.

You're slightly uncomfortable with the silence, but it seemed like it was going to work, so you kept going with it. “Well, Kurt…I could give you something way better than views.”

He shakes his head. “There isn't really a-anything better.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes. “Fine, I'll….I don't know, give you a way to get views if you untie me.” He seems more interested after you say that. He gets closer, reaching behind you and untying the rope, and you rub your wrists because of the pain of the rope digging into you. You glance back up at Kurt, and pull him into your lap. He looks surprised, for some reason even though you were pretty obvious with your intentions.

One of your hands grabs hold of his waist while the other slides down, taking your phone out of his hand. You can feel and see his growing erection, his face flushed as he stares down at you.

“You want to be famous, right?” You ask. He nods, looking pretty pathetic, which makes a feeling of warmth shoot down to your dick. You open your streaming app and go live, pointing the camera towards Kurt’s face. It makes his clothed cock twitch, and you gently nudge him to get off of you. He does, and he gets on his knees as you shove your pants down. Nestled in between your legs, face resting on your thigh, you continue to record as the viewers slowly trickle in, the chat confused about what's happening or commenting on the man in front of you.

Kurt slowly lifts a hand, pulling your semi-hard cock out of your boxers, visibly drooling when he sees it. He looks up at you and the camera as if asking for permission, and you give him a little nod, burying your free hand in his hair. He starts to move his hand slowly, watching it twitch and grow harder before hesitantly pressing his lips to the tip.

“Look at the camera, Kurt.” You say, and his eyes lock on the phone as he licks and sucks at the head of your cock.

You start to push his head down, and he enthusiastically takes more of you into his mouth, even when he starts to gag. You pull his head back up and then push him back down, and he lets you, completely giving up control of the situation almost immediately. His eyes never leave the phone, and you take a glance at the amount of viewers.

“200 people here so far.” You tell Kurt. He lets out a muffled moan, his eyes starting to tear up as he continues to let you manipulate his movements, bobbing his head up and down. You start to get rougher, making him take you down to the base before pulling him back up for air, and then shoving him back down, drool dripping down his chin.

He gags almost every time you shove him back down, but that only turns you one more, your cock slick with his spit. You pull his head up again, watching the tears run down his cheeks.

“Tell ‘em your channel, Kurt.” You urge him as he gasps for breath.

“K- Kurtsworld- Kurtsworld96 on e-everything.” He responds shakily, still staring at the camera. You push him back down without any warning, thrusting in and out of his throat.

“If you guys wanna see more of this cockslut, go follow him.” You say teasingly as the sounds of him choking and gagging on your cock fill the background. He whines around you, and you can tell even the thought of him getting more followers because of this was turning him on even more.

You force his head back up, saliva connecting the tip of your cock and his lips as he looks ruined, spit and tears running down his face. You slap your dick against his face a few times and he moans softly, staring up at you and your phone, the amount of viewers climbing higher and higher as you make sure you give them a good view of his face. His phone goes off a few times across the room, and he whines again as you push him back a little bit and stand up. You move the chair and gesture for him to lay down on the floor, which he does instantly. You kneel between his legs, roughly getting his pants and underwear off, his cock throbbing as it's exposed to the cold air.

You press yours against his, wrapping your free hand around both of them as you make sure you're still filming. You jerk the both of you off, making Kurt squirm and moan, his cock practically leaking. The size difference between you and Kurt makes the pool of heat in your stomach even warmer. You take your hand away, gesturing for Kurt to turn over. It takes him a second to register, but he does, and you use your free hand to lift his hips, getting him into the position you want. His ass presses against your hips, your cock against his hole.

You realize you don't have any lube on hand, so you move back a little bit and spit down onto his hole, making him whimper. You do the same for your hand, wrapping it around your cock and pumping it a few times, using that and your precum to make yourself slick enough.

You move the phone so that you're holding it directly in front of you, letting them watch as you rub the tip of your cock against Kurt’s tight hole, thrusting against it a few times and hearing his soft moans. He wiggles his hips a little bit, trying to get you to speed up, so you start to push yourself into him. He gasps, moaning as you get a little less than half way in. His hands are desperately trying to grab onto something, and you groan as his walls squeeze tight around you.

His hole greedily sucks you in, and once you're fully in, you roll your hips a little bit, making him whine. You start to thrust in and out of him, gripping his waist tightly. He pushes his hips back, fucking himself back onto you the best he could, letting out loud moans and whimpers. You were a little surprised he was that vocal, but you weren't complaining at all. His legs shake, his forehead pressed against the floor. The people in the chat are saying all kinds of things about Kurt as the view count gets higher.

You reach forward, slipping two of your fingers into his mouth. He starts sucking immediately, moaning around them as his tongue laps at them hungrily. You pull them back out, swiping the saliva you collected against his hole to keep it slick enough to keep going. His cock throbs again, rubbing against the floor, which can't be comfortable, but he seems to not mind, clenching tightly around you. You groan again, squeezing his ass and pulling him back into you at a quicker pace.

His moans and whines get louder, more high pitched and you can feel he's getting closer. You bury your hand in his hair, pulling his head up and holding the phone in front of him, turning the camera around so he can see himself and the amount of people currently watching. He moans loudly, his eyes rolling back as he cums. He shoots his load against the floor underneath him, clamping down tight around you. It makes you feel your own release approaching, and you bury yourself deep inside of him, causing him to whimper from the oversensitivity as you dump your seed into him, thoroughly stuffing the man who had kidnapped you.

He falls fully onto the ground, panting heavily as you pull out and end the stream, Kurt laying there shaking, and you, completely satisfied.

BONUS

You wipe sweat from your forehead as you catch your own breath, and after a little bit, Kurt turns and sits up, his used hole leaking your cum. Your demeanor changes and you gently run a hand down his arm.

“Did I do good?” He asks, exhausted.

You lean forward, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “You did. Just don't tie the rope as tight next time, that really hurt.” You say, putting your phone down, rubbing at the soreness in your wrist as Kurt nods, getting comfortable against your chest.

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

As a person who was genuinely made uncomfortable when I discovered Viv does all this crap like 🍇-romantification, I appreciate this blog so far.

For months I've been trying not to interact with hazbin because of viv's actions, which genuinely makes me sad cause I really liked the show (not including episode 4).

I understand darker skin not suiting your style (like mine) or having trouble with different proportions of characters due to where they're from or something (like me) but the fact that she made all the bad guys that way really doesn't scream "I have trouble drawing ____!"

⚠️YOU ARE NOT REQUIRED TO REPLY OR READ FULLY⚠️

Hi! Totally get this all dw, I just got out of the hospital however so if I explain weird please forgive me 😬 also dont take all of this as me giving specifically you a lecture, this is just me letting my thoughts flow out to whoever is reading 🤝

Also theres leaks in this! If you people don’t want leaks be sure to not read past “read more”!!

Its been brought to my attention that the information in the next paragraph is not true and Vivzie did not design or draw these characters! So she apparently just actually can’t draw them at all

Viv has absolutely no problem drawing POC! I mean just look at the human designs for the succubi in Helluva boss

These designs are wonderful and very diverse! But out of these characters, the ones that are important are Verosika and Vortex and even then these characters are side characters. And on top of that, technically they’re only really coded as POC since these aren’t their true bodily forms, but hey thats a topic for another time. Let’s just ignore that for now and say they 100% are POC, they’re still side characters. She can draw POC wonderfully, she just has issues… making them important.

For characters like Alastor (who was only made POC to get away with demonising a closed religion) we don’t see him as his human form. I mean to be fair why would we- but also why did he turn white when he died?? Why did his entire hair texture change. This is a problem for Vivzie where she doesn’t want to commit to representation or feels she doesn’t need to. Vivzie could’ve made Alastor’s design look more like his leaked human design or couldve just altered his colours a bit, but she didn’t do this because she feels so connected to her original high school OC design that she cant bring herself to change him. Like look at this.

Yeah it’s got a different style, but this is the same guy; he’s just weirdly marketable now. It’s incredibly easy to tell that Vivzie didn’t want to change him if she didn’t 100% have to. Lets take a look at Alastor’s old human design.

This guy definitely looks like he could be Alastor! He’s got the same sort of hair but shorter in the back and a little more combed, but looking at this you can still tell it’s Alastor. However this guy doesn’t exactly seem mixed, right? That’s because he isn’t! Back way way in ye olden days when Alastor went from race ambiguous to white, he just kind of looked like that! And there’s no problem with him being white! Good for him on doing that! I guess!? But when you look his design now, things start to come off as a bit odd.

This is where you non-leakers go read somethin else

This is an entirely different person now. Not just race wise, but personality, the way he presents himself in the arts pose, and just overall the actual look of the character. He looks conniving yes, but he doesn’t look like Alastor. This is not a face matchup.

Now, you definitely can have your ugly little red thing design and still use that human one! You just have to not be too chicken to actually change your character so it makes sense. Let me demonstrate.

Shocking how easily this design can fit the human one while still maintaining the original aesthetic of the base design isn’t it! This Alastor looks like the provided new human design. If you don’t want the character to change, don’t change them physically. And if you do, follow through on it and don’t be a wimp. I don’t see whats so hard to grasp about that to this lady. If you want to keep that same ugly fucking bob then just keep him white. She literally only changed his race so she can use it as an excuse to appropriate vodou. Vivzie can draw POC, she just doesn’t want to when it comes to actually having to change a character. Anyway, good day!

[madly-enthusiastic]

So... since yall won't be able to ask me shit until January, I robbed @voxtechsmells idea of making headcanons for Lucifer! (With their consent, obviously, duh.) SOOO, here it goes!

Let's begin this shit!

#1. Lucifer often talks with his ducks even though they technically can't answer him BUT, BUT, BUT, BUUUUT- Lucifer can use a bit of his magic to manifest his own thoughts on the ducks so they'd have the same thoughts and ideas like him, for example, he could give a duck his sense of justice, which would make the duck judge anything Lucifer says or does, it'd help him understand social clues!

#2, If someone scares Lucifer, it's possible that he can lose his physical form (yes, his physical form is a receptacle to his angelic form) for a short period before he goes back but it'd be needed to be the scare of his life, if anyone saw his true form, they'd have their eyes burn by the lights and would try to take their eyes off 💖 (It only happened two times that people saw his true form)

#3. He loves Alastor. This one doesn’t need an explanation. Radioapple. (Quick reminder, @voxtechsmells is the principal person I have role-plays with and their Alastor is ASSEXUAL. Understood, pal? If you make any bad comments about it, I'll kick your ass along with my bestie.)

#4. He has an entire set of ducks in which every single one of them has names, stories and relatives. The city they all live in is New Duckiyor (or Charlie's old bedroom in the palace), the trama fuctions around the twins: Officer Dexter Quackingtong and the ringmaster Dennis Quackingtong. Their principal trama is the fact that they were separated when they were 3 years old after a divorce between their parents and now, they're trying to talk more with each other but it's difficult due to the different ways they have been raised. (YES I MADE A FUCKING LORE FOR THIS AND NO, YOU DON'T HAVE THE RIGHT TO TELL ME THIS IS WRONG.)

#5. Lucifer is panssexual. Just that. He's the sin of Pride and he'd take pride in the fact he understands that no matter what form people take, they'll still be beautiful in their own ways.

I guess that's it? Again, thank you @voxtechsmells for allowing me to rob your idea and make my head canons as well! (Luv u, bestie 💖)

[izelthewashbear]

Good news: we finally know why c!Martyn fell off between his win in Limited life, and then his recent placements in Secret life and Wild life!

Bad news: Not angsty enough.

Worry not, for I have already thought of three (3) alternative reasons for why Martyn fell off the way he did!

(disclaimer: this post is NOT meant to signify that Eyes and Ears is a bad AU by any means. I respect the decisions that Martyn makes (as much as I wanna toss this man into a wall sometimes), but I decided to give this one thing my own little spin, since I've already been thinking about it for a while. Enjoy!)

These headcanons are placed in a particular order: 1 fits pretty well into EaE AU and technically could be canon if Martyn likes it ig?, 2 is a pretty neutral one that could fit into any AU or interpretation (+ is the closest one to what Martyn said on his lore stream, but a little different) and 3 is one I personally use in my own AU, called Preservers AU, or The ones who watch, the ones who listen, the ones who kill AU (WLK for short).

1. Martyn got fucked up the same way Cleo and Pearl did in Double life.

While doing research into EaE and watching Limited Life lore stream a while back, one particular thing caught my attention. As you may remember, in session 6, Cleo and Pearl were absent and Gem and Lizzie came to fill in for them. I really liked what Martyn lored there - the idea that Double Life messed up with them so much (especially Pearl, but Cleo too) that even after "resting" in the eternal fuckass void that the Watchers throw them into (the void has no name, so may I propose the name I use in my own AU - The Midway, as in the middle of the way between different worlds) they weren't quite in the right mindset to enter the games again - hence, for example, Pearl talking about Tilly in ep 1 of LimL. So, their souls got snached by the Watchers, threw into the void like into a microwave when you need to heat up your food for just a minute longer, and their conciousnesses were replaced with Gem and Lizze's.

And what if the same should've happened to Martyn?

Let's be honest, winning this series messes everyone up, especially if it ends by you backstabbing the only person who was nice to you the whole season (+ some random guy who just happened to be too close to your sword). Especially if we take into account the interpretation that Martyn got briefly possessed by the Watchers as he killed them ("time is delicious" yada yada yada, we know what you are sir). I can totally believe that this win messed with him enough that at the beginning of Secret life, he was still a bit woozy, a bit disjointed. That would explain him being the first yellow, first red, as well as ending up in the bottom half of the leaderboard for the first time. Funny how he was still the only person to never fail a task, I guess even when fucked up by the Watchers he still has his 300 IQ.

But why didn't the Watchers snatch him during Secret life and put him back into the aforementioned void? Cuz they like torturing him too much and they were like "naaaaaah he'll be fineeee" (he wasn't). Or, they wanted to, but they accidentally snatched the wrong blond guy (aka Tango) (just like in Wild life, they mixed up their blondes again and got Martyn killed before Jimmy).

2. The nihilism route

Martyn's explanation during the lore stream was that c!Martyn, after he won, stopped caring about his performance and decided to chill out a bit, hence him doing worse and worse each subsequent season. But c'mon dude, where's the angst? So I propose a slightly changed version.

You go through four painful, draining, exhausting death games. Each time you die too early to reach your goal. You see your friends die, and you die painfully as well. Until one day, it happens. You win, you kill everyone. You're ecstatic, now you can fix everything, free everyone, change everyone's fate and be free-

And then you're tossed into a new game. All your happy murder time didn't matter. You're right back where you started. Not to mention, the one you were fighting for isn't around, still. So what do you do? Wallow in sorrow, of course! You're all stuck and you're all fucked! There is no escape! Nothing matters! (/neg)

So yeah what Martyn said but make it sadder

3. The Watchers hate you, personally (spoilers for my AU! + if it sounds stupid out of context I'm sorry)

(TW for body horror, oops)

So I'm no stranger to writing horrible fates to characters I really like (and unfortunately that includes c!Martyn, this guy is just too fun to mangle repeatedly). In my AU, after a win, each player is granted a singular wish from the Watchers - and that wish is twisted into a sick version, making up the new game. WLK!Martyn, the nosey bastard he is, asked to know everything about the Watchers - all their secrets, all their knowledge, how to defeat them. Watchers said "bet" and in return, gouged out his eye and replaced it with their own, "lending" him some of their powers (with the side effects being migraines, insomnia, being flashed with horrifying visions, throbbing pains in half of his skull and falling off in general). So uh yeah, guy that loses an eye in such a fashion and doesn't have any time to recover will probably have a hard time placing high again.

It could also be made into a non-WLK version where the Watchers mangled him in some other way. Sorry Listeners but you can't save your boy from that, he too far gone

So I hope you liked my little ramble! If you have any of your own ideas, interpretations or even questions lemme know, I love loring and I wanna outlore the lore guy one day :3

[turtleblogatlast]

Leo getting hit with a truth curse but instead of forcing him to admit to super sad or worrying things it’s things like “it was me who broke the remote” “I saw Mikey prank Donnie and helped hide it because it’s way funnier if he didn’t know who it was” “I rip my clothes to look more like Raph’s because he’s really cool” “my stripes aren’t even red they’re pink!”

[nelkcats]

Do not accept candy from strangers

Danny made a lot of stupid decisions in his life, several, so many that he couldn't even begin to count them, but according to him that was great when it came to learning from his mistakes.

So, it's no wonder that on his one day off he decided to do everything he was told not to do:

1. Leave Amity

2. Reveal himself to the world

3. Accept things from a stranger

The first 2 were reasonable, considering the situation with the GIW and how 80% of the population did not believe ghosts existed, the last was a warning Jazz made sure to instill in him.

But Danny was dead (more or less), and what harm could it do to eat a candy or two? It's not like he could poison himself.

The answer was a lot of harm; Technically no one offered him the fallen Kryptonite on the ground (he just thought it looked delicious), and both Lex Luthor and Superman weren't paying attention to him during their epic battle or whatever.

So Danny just picked it up and ate it, well, ate several (Lex was throwing them away like a candy trail, the halfa had fun thinking of Hansel and Gretel), Superman looked worried as he heard "Lex's evil plans to surround him with Kryptonite."

But instead of finding a perfect circle surrounding him, he found a teenager, a young white-haired boy who was rolling on the ground and complaining of a stomach ache.

Danny could almost hear Frostbite's voice scolding him for eating candy off the floor, damn it, and some of the candy wasn't even pure! They looked manufactured and stale. Danny glared at Luthor before deciding it wasn't worth it and going back to his task of complaining.

[sysig]

You keep underestimating others and it’ll come back to bite you (Patreon)

[al-luviec]

juvie buddies

[lunarharp]

pretty & cute witch men

[cinderellaenjoyer]

Lautski thank you for not having a girl who can be demonised by the fandom for 'getting in the way of the Ship'

[404-art-found]

I saw a blorbo template and blacked out. my blorbo blingus

template under cut

[eri-pl]

Silm Advent calendar 8: Roads**

**Edit: I messed up the prompt, today it should be a different prompt, sorry, anyway it's too late to write a new one, so enjoy!

Elros climbed. He should have thought of himself as Minyatur now, but this name felt stiff, like new shoes not yet walked in enough. At least his actual shoes were comfortable, even on this long road, and the air was pleasantly warm, but not hot.

The road spiralled up, the lower part of it clearly visible, bright in the sun, descending into the still-worked-on main road that cut straight from the east to the west of the island. Andor was beautiful. And yet, there was much to do, and fairly so: if nothing had been left for their work, it would not feel like a real home build with their own hands.

His thoughts went to the white sapling he'd recently planted and named after his grandmother.

It was partially a coincidence, partially an expression of longing. He'd never met her. Nor his great-grandmother, obviously. Everyone said she had been beautiful. Everyone — well, all the Eldar — seemed shocked when Elros made his choice, and not even out of love. How could he explain to them?

And yet the plant — a little echo of the Undying Lands, a reminder of days when the world had been new — was immensely beautiful.

And yet it would die one day.

How did this thought come to him? But it felt true: an echo was not the thing itself, and the tree too belonged to the world of things that passed.

As did Elros.

But before that would happen, he had much to do. Build roads. Find a queen and raise a heir. See the white tree grow. Decide whom to hate and whom to mourn. Build more roads.

Now, he climbed.

Tar-Palantir descended from the tower. It took longer than it used to, and when he'd been there, his eyes grew tired of staring at the fog-shrouded sea quicker than he would expect it. His days were growing short and cold—just as the days of the year—and yet there were many things he needed to finish.

He shouldn't have started this melioration project, it became more and more complex as new problems arose — usually ones needing more gold from the treasury — and there was barely time for anything else. Yet, he needed that time. Maybe if he talked with Pharazôn again... He had been so sweet as a boy, there surely was something left of that... Maybe if he made more speeches to the people... Or lowered the taxes—but the roads—

"Do you need everything, my king?"

Tar-Palantir blinked. He had been standing with closed eyes again, lost in thought. "No, I—"

Something stopped him mid-sentence and —as they sometimes used to— words came to him. "It is close. When Nimloth dies, our downfall shall come."

It then left, leaving him lost and full of apprehension.

The White Tree had been there for nearly three millennia, how could it die? Hadn't it been a gift from those who do not perish? But Númenóre had been such a gift too. And yet, it wasn't free of death. Quite the opposite. Everything on this side of the Sundering Seas was doomed.

No, there had to be hope. Somewhere. Some day.

But his sight was not keen enough to pierce thorough the fog and Tar-Palantir was left shivering in the darkness of a cold autumn dusk.

It was so high. Aragorn was accustomed well to heights and to contasts of temperature, but not so to stunning views. And definitely not to seeing white towers, now intensely repaired, and green hills cut by roads, and knowing he was— he was the king of this land.

And yet, was he? Or was he just a pretender whose claims would fade with his death?

Arwen wouldn't come, surely, he asked for way too much and it was not the time of legends anymore, it was the time of Men and the Fourth Age was dawning and yet he would not choose any queen from the race of Men unless— but surely she would not.

A forest filled his imagination and someone danced there, bright and beautiful and beyond—

Aragorn shook his head and resumed the conversation with his companion.

As he turned at Mithrandir's request, just at the edge of the snow he saw a sapling, its flowers as white in the sun as the untouched snow, its leaves silver like a memory he had no way of remembering, and its smell, the cold, the mountaintop above him— Aragorn halted.

"You can proceed," said Mithrandir softly.

The king took the sapling carefully and turned back to the lands—his lands—below.