#I think it depends on how old the immortals were

[panlight]

This poll is not Twilight-specific but it's Twilight related. Edward is 100 years old when he and Bella start dating. Some people are good with this, for others it bothers them.

It's fairly common in paranormal/fantasy romances for these sort of gaps to happen between a non-human love interest who is really, really old and a human who is like, 16-25. This is not a Twilight only phenomenon.

What are your Thoughts? Are you cool with Generic Human dating an immortal vampire, ageless angel/demon, or 10,000 year old fae/elf/whatever?

*for example, in Twilight, Edward was 86 years old when Bella was born, he could have still been alive if he were human. In contrast, Carlisle was already about 250 years old when Esme was born, they never would have been alive at the same time without the supernatural context.

[inqvisitor]

i think it says something about the force of the inquisitor’s mind — specifically a faithfully dalish mage inquisitor — that the events of inquisition and trespasser did not immediately turn their brain to dust.

and perhaps that’s just the world of dragon age, that long believed stories of old are bound to shatter at any moment. but in one playthrough, depending on your leanings, they learn that:

the rite of tranquility can be reversed

ameridan was a dalish elf mage who knew that the whole time before he disappeared

that the old gods were not gods at all

that they enslaved the elves of old

that the veil was created by fen’harel and that was the cause of losing their immortality and not the presence of humans

and that their closest advisor in all things spirit (and potentially their great friend and lover) was the dread wolf in the goddamn flesh

not to mention the knowledge of the well of sorrows, which potentially submits them to the will of flemeth/mythal herself.

i truly think sera is the only one who really understands the mental ramifications, in her own way. her hatred of the fade and the crossroads in trespasser makes her at times flat out terrified, and the thought of the veil at one point not existing at all almost gives her a conniption. but it’s more than understandable considering that everything the elves know about the world, about their own history, is a lie.

everything that the inquisitor potentially leaned on to lead their people, a desire to return to the old ways… vanishes in the span of a few days, potentially an evening, with the exalted council.

how do you not lose your mind?

[marsupials-of-mars]

Was thinking about @ckret2 's bill when i wrote this, but it applies to bill more generally. I think the main thing people pick up on, maybe subconsciously, about their bill that makes him feel so accurate is that he feels.

A lot of people (and most people are guilty of this including me whether they mean to or not) tend to write him as a tragic immortal? In the sense that he's been beaten down by time and learned never to care about people, and has lost the ability to care.

And the first part of that is true!

He HAS learned never to care about people! In the tbob love page, he says its stupid to tie yourself to a mortal in a way where your happiness depends on them. He's LEARNED this. But he has NOT lost the ability to care. And he DOES care despite knowing he shouldn't.

He interacts with people genuinely, he legitimately enjoys the company of "lesser" mortal species, he has fun, he thinks about people when they're gone, he's taken lovers, he speaks in phrases hes picked up from past earth decades because he likes how they sound (ya dig?).

And some people are frustrated when he's written suave and unfeeling for this reason, because he is a goofball. But the thing is, he DOES act, in a way, suave and unfeeling when it comes to situations like Ford and Dipper. He plays up his "immortal deity" persona, constantly reminding them of all the knowledge he knows, PROVING his value to them.

But he gets mad! He falls in love! He jokes around because its fun! He gets stupid and reckless when he's upset! He burns bridges when he doesnt get his way! These are all insANELY short-sighted things for a trillion-year-old to care about!

This is why he can relate to people, and why he acts like a kid sometimes. I firmly believe that he stopped aging the day he destroyed his dimension (which is basically canon i think) not only physically but mentally. He legitimately cannot mature, cannot gain wisdom no matter how much he tries.

He has a lot of INTELLIGENCE and KNOWLEGE, but its like giving a child the library of alexandria and infinite time to explore. Sure theyll probably learn some things out of boredom or curiosity, but theres no curriculum. They COULD read it all, but why would they? That's boring and dumb and they want to climb the shelves and make book forts instead.

Now, more specifically about ckret2's Goldie:

He describes himself as a consumate extrovert. He hangs out with mabel and watches tv and goes to the Rainbow club. And while he does these things, he isnt thinking "this is so below me, why should i care about any of this?" He's just trying to have fun, and is knowingly fulfilling his social needs. He believes he and ford WERE friends.

And the most important part of this that im always thinking about is Bill claiming that being friends, enjoying peoples company, loving, playing, and all that is not mutually exclusive with being an all powerful god of destruction to be worshipped by all.

Which makes sense! Because he is INTELLIGENT and he knows that he's more powerful than these people, and he SHOULD be a being that demands their worship, and he needs to find something that lasts, and makes sense in the wake of INFINITY. But he also has the mind of a mortal, and he thinks the same way he always has. And with both of these insights, the ONLY thing that MAKES SENSE is to have his cake and eat it too. Focus on the big picture while also enjoying the present, SIMULTANEOUSLY.

Manipulating ford to his own end that leads him closer to his forever plan, while also bringing him to karaoke and falling in love. Securing his rule and reputation over the nightmare realm, being feared throughout the multiverse, having his fingers in as many pies as possible-- while partying with his henchmaniacs, drinking out of solo cups and flashing the cops.

Its the only thing that stops him from going crazy. If you have a mortal mind thats built to love and lose and feel and party and wisecrack, and you relinguish it to the horrifying prospect of timelessness, if you're always looking at the existential...you are not going to last a trillion years.

[jewelsli]

DC X DP X Captain Marvel/Shazam

So I had this idea for a dc/dp crossover (mostly about billy and danny). Anyway, Danny and Billy are both children around fourteen years old, both are posing as immortal heroes to the Justice League, and both have huge responsibilities that the fate of the universe depends on (Ghost King Danny). In conclusion, I think they would be SCARILY good friends, honestly brothers really.

Here’s how I think it would go (I’m not the greatest writer so bear with me)

Billy had just returned from his latest mission, and not the fun beat-up-some-badguys-then-go-home kind, he had been off-world (and off-dimension at times) near constantly for the past few weeks in some greater beings version of a joke, and had missed the latest JL meeting. He was currently stepping out of the beta tubes after getting what? Four? Hours of sleep. He shook his head, glad that I’m his powered form he couldn’t feel tired like Billy did(and less glad about the faint chattering of the Gods in his head).

‘Okay, time for the meeting!’ He thought with sarcastic joy in his head, pulling his features into a soft smile. He walked down the halls to the meeting room, it may seem like he was going at a fast pace, but compared to how fast he could go, he was currently a snail. He hovered(no not literally) outside the door for a moment before brightening his smile and walking in.

“Hey guys!” He said joyfully, glad to see he wasn’t the last to arrive, “sorry about not calling in at the last meeting, my communicator broke and I wasn’t exactly able to get in touch without dropping everything and I couldn’t … do that.” He paused as he noticed a new person at the table, which he vaguely recognized as one of the possible recruits for a new member. Something about them seemed… different, not in a bad way! But still-

Batman grunts… uh… he could never tell if that was good or bad, he looks up at the masked vigilante and waits for him to say something(I mean it was 50/50 whether that was the sentence or if it preceded it) “Marvel,” ah so this was one of the times it was followed by a sentence, “I expect your reports by the next meeting,” darn it “This is Phantom, he was introduced to the League while you were away.” He says with a nod at the new member, who smiled and waved at him. Billy waves back, it would be rude not to right? And sits at his normal spot, which is near(but not directly next to) the white haired hero. He sat still for a solid five seconds before becoming bored, if he knew how these meeting went(and he did) flash would probably show up a minute or two late, leaving about… ten or so minutes. He mentally sighs, turning to face Phantom.

“So…” he says before he can even think of what to ask, the other looking towards him, “Phantom huh? Are you a ghost of some sort?” He asked, he wanted to assume so, but then again Phantom girl wasn’t a ghost, so he might not be. And he would have to be a pretty powerful ghost to be seen by normal people, or maybe he was invisible? No he could tell that the others could see him- and he was getting off track, thank goodness for the speed of mercury or else that train of thought may have stopped him from seeing the other’s answer.

Phantom nodded, tilting his head and then saying “yeah, everyone keeps assuming I’m an alien for some reason? Do you guys not interact with ghosts that often?” Marvel thought for a moment, “The main members don’t really, but The JL dark does, deadman is a member and he’s a ghost. Have you met him yet?” He asked in return after answering his question.

Phantom’s eyes widened, “Deadman? I’ve heard of him but we haven’t met.” He responded, his face stretching into a smile that was bordering on inhuman. “I have yet to meet another ghost that’s a hero, all the ones I’ve met either fought with me or don’t leave the realms,” he sighed. Now it was Billy’s turn to smile. “The realms? As in the infinite realms??? Aw man I’ve been meaning to visit but I haven’t count the time! What’s it like? Does it really have the most diverse population of magical creatures? What about the new ghost prince? I’ve heard he’s much better than the old king!” He spouted with maybe a little bit of speed of mercury, and he really did want to know more about the ghost prince, he had to meet him later.

Before a (surprised looking) Phantom could answer, the meeting was started, he hadn’t noticed the people filtering in until an apologetic speedster sat down between him and the ghost.

Finishing up the meeting, oh gods finally, Marvel could feel how tired Billy was. He stood up to leave but was faced with Phantom looking at him, oh woah he was really tall for being so skinny as tall as he was!(and he was eight feet tall!!!).

“How do you know about the new ghost prince.” Phantom asked in a voice slightly below a normal volume, Billy looked him over, he didn’t seem hostile, just curious, so he thought back to try and remember. “Oh uh, I guess I was informed by some of my… coworkers” he said carefully, hey he couldn’t go ‘oh yeah the gods in my head told me and I’m the champion of magic’ he was trying to avoid the league learning that for goodness sakes!!!(sue him if he didn’t want the magic users of the league to never talk to him normally again or gain more attention from Batman). He saw phantom’s eyes narrow, “These coworkers must be pretty high up on the power chain if they know, the new prince kept the change from the old king to him restricted to those who needed to know,” oh, oops? Wait how did he know then? “So are you in one of these upper circles then?” Marvel asked, getting a small smile from the other, who responded with “Something like that, and who are you getting this info through?” He said, not letting him redirect the conversation as he had hoped he could. “I have a contact from the rock of eternity” he said quickly, hey it was kind of true, he did have contacts there and marvel was the reason why he knew. Phantom made a small ‘:o’ face and simply said “Oh” before glancing at a nearby clock and sighing. “I WILL be asking about that, but until then I have Infinite Realm duties, higher circles and all that.” He muttered the last part before leaving through the window of all places.

Marvel glances at the clock himself and cursed(internally, he would never curse in this form), speaking of the ghost prince, he had a meeting with him.

Yay I did it :D!!!

[thesummerestsolstice]

There's this implication in Tolkien's writing that half-elves are kind-of immortal by default, and that they stop aging unless they choose mortality (though arguably they don't even really age then). See Arwen in the Lord of the Rings, who is several thousand years old and has clearly been living life as an elf, despite never having made the Peredhel choice.

I always wondered why Arwen was given that choice, actually. It seems like the Peredhel choice is mostly given to people who have a mortal parent and an immortal parent (Earendil, since Tuor was definitely mortal when he was born, and arguably Elwing depending on how you see Dior), or at least parents who are undecided (Elrond and Elros are born before Elwing and Earendil make their choices). Arwen is a fair bit more than half-elven, and has two immortal parents. And there's not really any evidence Elros's children got the choice. Why does she get to choose whether she wants to be mortal or immortal?

Now, this could just be some minor world building weirdness, but it raises another very interesting possibility. That Elrond, by the time his children were born, had not committed to being immortal, and was instead undecided. I feel like there's so much to explore in that idea. Maybe Elrond truly wasn't sure about his choice to stay immortal forever until much, much later in his life. Maybe he held off choosing specifically so his children would be able to. Maybe he didn't choose because he didn't want to have to pick between being an elf or a man, and just wanted to be a half-elf in peace.

There's also something very compelling to me about the idea of an Elrond who could have, at any point during the Second or Third Ages, decided to be mortal. Who could have left the grief and struggle of Middle-Earth behind forever, and who, nonetheless, always chose to stay; picking immortality, not once, but a thousand times over the course of his long life, no matter what difficulties he was faced with.

It would also be interesting to explore the idea that most of the people in Elrond's life assume he decided to be fully elven long ago, only to realize that that isn't actually true. I imagine it could be disconcerting, maybe even really anxiety-provoking to realize that someone you were certain would be around forever might not be. I also think it would be really hard for a lot of elves to understand why Elrond might not want to make that choice.

[howlett-n-morgan]

More Than Words

3. An Advantageous Journey

Logan Howlett x OC!Reader

Series Summary: Having lived for over two hundred years and never having the privilege of human touch is the biggest burden imaginable... until someone comes along with the healing ability to withstand the touch of death.

Chapter Warnings: mild language, mentions of scars and blood, a few traumatic events and ptsd symptoms, mostly fluff in this one guys… but LOGAN IS A WARNING. Oh and also I’m not from Canada and only have one Canadian friend so my apologies if Canada is depicted poorly… she was like ‘it’s just like America except there’s more snow and some people speak French’

Chapter Summary: Going back to Canada is supposed to be a quick trip that benefits Logan’s memory, but upon arriving, he seems to think that a fews days need be spent on diversions.

Word Count: 15.3k (God help me-)

“Then how were they able to cut you up?”  Poor phrasing, but he was never one for a gentle touch in his wording.  “Same way you were able to,” you reminded him, rolling up your sleeve to show where his claw marks had almost completely healed over. “Adamantium.” “Adamantium? You’re kidding,” he almost found it funny, the irony of it all. He’s the only one who can touch you, but he’s also the only one who can hurt you. “How’d they figure that out?”

The professor was the first one to speak to Logan the morning you both planned on leaving the mansion. Everyone was made aware of this, but few people understood why it was so necessary. Even Scott, who had endured some of the same treatment as you and Logan, did not know how to justify such a spontaneous trip in the midst of all the chaos surrounding mutants. Especially after the recent situation with Magneto.

It could be dangerous, but above all things, it could also bring answers. And Logan needed answers. About who he was, what he did, and where he’s supposed to go, now. The pain from his nightmares has subsided only a small bit while being here with everyone. He wants to make them go away for good. 

When Charles sits him down in the study that morning, he thinks he understands why. You’re a very important member of the team. He wants to make sure you return, and without a scratch. It makes sense in his mind… but the professor has other ideas for the conversation. 

“How long do you both plan on being away?” He asks, keeping a tether on Logan’s mind in case he is even the slightest bit dishonest. 

“Not sure,” he began with a sigh, sitting back into the seat he’d been given. “I guess it depends.”

“On what, exactly?” Charles kept his questioning thorough, but not for the reason of interrogating him. 

“On what we find.” Logan shrugged his shoulders and raised a brow. He really had no idea what he was going into when you said you’d take him to Stryker’s old bunker. “Guessing from the nightmares I’ve had, it’s not really a nice place.”

“Well, I assure you,” Charles began, turning his chair to the side and reaching for some documents on his desk. “You are in the best of hands. The very best. I just hope you know how lucky you really are.”

“Lucky? How so?” Logan’s curiosity wandered. He knew you were a valuable member of the team, and he was grateful that you would offer him such a strenuous task on your own shoulders, but he caught on that there was more that Charles hadn’t spoken. 

“Alice is a rare mutant. Like you, she can stand the tests of time, and never waiver. She is nearly immortal, and takes her job of protecting others very seriously.” 

“I picked that up,” Logan nodded in agreement. “She cares a lot about saving people.”

“She cares even more for those who are close to her,” the old man warned, his expression becoming more solemn and serious. “She will go to incredible lengths to keep her loved ones out of harm’s way.”

Logan was beginning to wonder where the point was in all of this. He knew you were the type to look out for others above yourself. You were an X-man, it kind of came as a job requirement… but more than that, he knew you were kinder than most people were, and the help you extended to him was not just a simple favor. 

“She has never experienced a bond like she has with you… with human touch.”

He understands now. Your powers, and the impact they have had on you is immense. You have to keep everyone at arm’s length, except for him. He can be let in, and he can do the things that others can’t.

“What exactly are you telling me?” Logan pondered, gruffly. Even with the professor’s point being made, he was still curious as to why he would bring this all up.

“I’m telling you to be careful. She’s already grown strongly attached to you for the sake of your touch, and will likely become fonder in these days to come. I ask you to think about and consider her feelings when you take her with you… If you hurt her, the consequences would be unimaginable.”

Logan does consider them, for a split second he considers them. He knows you’re fond of him, otherwise this escapade would not even be happening… but he also knows that his ability to touch you is the defining factor. His feelings for someone else block out any signs that your interest in him could further develop, at least past what it is already. Even with all this in mind, Logan is a smartass, and wants to tempt the man in charge by challenging his threat. 

“I can imagine quite a bit,” he smirked, nodding his head side to side. 

Charles did not take that comedically whatsoever, and Logan didn’t really expect him to. It was probably a bad idea to open his mouth in the first place. 

“You mock me when I’m trying to help you?” 

“No sir,” he let out with a breath. 

“The consequences I speak of would not be dealt by I or any of her colleagues…”

“Then by who?” Logan asked, his voice not raised, but becoming more prominent as the conversation became more pointed than it was before. “Is there some big bad monster I should be worried about?” 

Charles sighed. He wasn’t getting anywhere, and Logan only seemed to become irritated the more he spoke. He took a glance into the man’s mind, and found that a beautiful woman with long red hair rested among his thoughts, though he should not be thinking about the woman that is most definitely taken. 

“I can see that your mind is clouded by thoughts of someone else,” Xavier changed the subject, tapping into the specific thoughts and trying to gather more details. It appears this conversation was mostly for nothing. Charles sighs, “Do not hurt Alice, Logan. If you do, her pain will become yours.”

“I won’t hurt her,” Logan stood up, assuming this was the last of the professor’s advisory words. He was becoming quickly annoyed with how little the man trusted him, and how intrusive he’d been this whole time. 

He wouldn’t lead you on, but he wouldn’t shut you out, either. You’d been so helpful to him, he wasn’t going to push away the one piece of his past that just might bring everything together. That would be foolish of him. 

“Logan,” The professor stopped him one more time, and he turned to look at the man, sitting straight and with a firm gaze from his wheelchair. “When the time is right, ask her about a man named Charlie.”

Logan sighed, filing that thought away in his mind before heading back upstairs to pack some of his belongings together. 

-

You never wanted to go back to Canada. 

You swore after you got out the first time that nothing good could ever come out of Canada and you stuck to that belief. 

But you’d met Logan in Canada, and he wasn’t so bad. Scott, too… although he’d been a teenager at the time and was much more annoying back then.

“On your way already?” Ororo was leaning in your doorway when you looked up, watching you stuff your travel backpack until it could barely zip up on the side. 

“About to be,” you heaved it up onto your back, adjusting your posture to hold it correctly, then walked to meet her at the door. “I wasn’t going to leave without saying goodbye.”

She grabbed your hand, covered in your little green gloves. “Keep in touch, will you?” 

“I will, I promise,” you nodded gently. “I won’t stay away for long.”

“You say that now,” she crossed her arms and shook her head jokingly. “But going away with a guy that looks like that? And he’s the only man in the world that can touch you? Baby, I’ll be lucky if I ever see you again.”

You laughed along with her, giving a warm smile and a nod. “He’s something…”

“He’s ready to go,” Logan teased, coming up behind Ororo.

You blushed, knowing he probably heard the conversation while leaving his room. You avoided making eye contact with him yet, just gave a thin lip smile while looking back to your dear friend and saying your last goodbyes. You only wished you could hug her close to you, for all the years she’s spent in your corner. 

“I guess I’ll see you around, Ro.” 

“Don’t be a stranger… Call me when you can.” She gave you a strong look, indicating that she was serious, and not just playing along for the sake of goodbyes.

“You know I will…” you trailed, giving her one more squeeze of the hand before walking behind Logan towards the stairs. 

Once at the bottom, there was just a slight obstacle. Rogue caught you both leaving, and had a few words to say. 

You’d admit, you felt bad leaving her here, especially when you’d been so adamant to her before that you were going to teach her about her powers and how to get used to them without the fear of hurting others. It’s only now that you realize you won’t be able to help in the most detrimental stages of her mutant education… but you would return. You knew you would. 

You had to help Logan, first. He was the priority. He saved your life once, and it was time to pay that debt forward. 

Logan had left his dog tags with Rogue, along with a promise that he would be back. Of course he would… Or maybe he wouldn’t. You never thought about what could happen if he should find his memories and remember who he is. He might have loved ones and a family to return to…

“She’s got a crush on you,” you mentioned to him once you were out of the house. You looked at him, and he seemed unsurprised. “And she trusts you…”

“I figured that much,” he smirked, walking towards the main garage around the side of the large house. 

“Did you mean it?” 

“Did I mean what?” He turned to ask you, his features twisted in confusion. 

You sighed, stopping at the garage door but making no motion to use the lock pad to open it. 

“When you said you were going to come back…” you trailed, scanning your thumb print on the pad so the door would fold up. State of the art technology for the lock, but the same old door from the seventies. 

It took him longer than you expected to answer the question, but you figured since it held some weight, it was good that he thought it out clearly. 

“Yeah, I meant it.”

You looked to him, the decision he made was worn on his face and it was easy to see he was telling the truth. 

“Good,” you nodded, walking inside first and grabbing your keys from your pocket. Logan immediately gave you a glance of mischief, and walked in the other direction. 

“Logan, no…”

“Logan, yes,” he taunted, going over to sit on the motorcycle that belonged to Scott. You weren’t going to play this game with him.

“We are not going all the way to Canada on a bike.” You were trying to be the reasonable one here, but he was so damn stubborn. Two could play that game, you were stubborn, too. “Get in the car.”

“Get on the bike,” he nodded behind him, the open seat looking appealing for only a moment. “I know you want to…”

“No, I don’t…” you opened the driver’s side door, and climbed in, shutting it behind you… but he didn’t budge from the damn motorcycle. 

When he turned it on, the engine roaring to life and revving from the motions of his hand, you closed your eyes for a split second before doing the worst thing you could have possibly done. You climbed out of the car and went to the motorcycle, swinging a leg over and holding onto him with a big huff. He knew you did it for show, not because you were actually upset. 

“Comfy?” He threw a smirk over his shoulder, and you huffed again for emphasis. 

“No.”

He just laughed, pulling out of the garage and onto the road. 

You would admit, the wind in your hair, and the lovely smell of the pine trees lining the streets was wonderful. All the sights on the way to your destination were quite lovely, and though you could see them from your car just the same, it wouldn’t feel like this. 

This feels like flying, almost, with the breeze beneath your wings, and the sounds of nature as you pass through. 

Logan can almost sense your smile when you drive by a particular area full of color changing aspens, the scenery surrounding you felt almost like a dream, something from out of a movie. 

He never said anything to taunt you about being right, or made a comment about how much you seemed to be enjoying yourself. It was silent between you both for hours, until the sun began had set, and you’d finally crossed the border into Canada. 

“We’re gonna have to stop soon for the night,” he mentioned when you’d pulled off the road to get something to eat. Just a little rest-stop… gas stations, fast food, the works. You’d spotted a sign a few miles back for a motel, but weren’t sure where to go in order to get there. 

“Fill up the tank, I’ll go inside and ask about directions,” you told him, swinging your leg off of the bike and walking away. 

He was certain that this dynamic between the two of you was working well already, and that he didn’t need to heed Charle’s words as much as he originally intended. You seemed to go with the flow of things, and were rather easy to get along with… and you didn’t seem to be super into him like the professor said you would be. You cared about him, sure… but he cared about you too, and without crossing any lines. 

Filling up the bike, he leaned against the metal machinery, his head dozing back and forth from his tired state. It wasn’t until you returned, holding a map and a bag of gas station pastries that he was fully aware again. 

“The guy marked that motel out for me on the map,” you said, unfolding the paper and showing it to him, the red marker lining the road and the turn off. “It’s two exits down.”

“Easy enough.” He took a look at the marked location for himself, waiting for the gas pump to finish topping off the tank.

“I got you a donut,” you said, handing him a paper bag like your own. You’d pulled a maple donut from yours, so he was appalled to find that his was not also a maple donut. 

“Chocolate?” His eyebrows raised, only teasing you, but still just slightly butthurt about the donut. 

“You don’t like chocolate?” You furrowed your eyebrows, talking with your mouth full of the first bite you took.

“Did they not have any other maple glazed?” he nodded to yours, the joking nature still filling his tone. 

“This was the last one.” You reasoned. You found it a little funny, but felt a little bad at the same time. 

He huffed, shaking his head, but then you smiled sweetly, holding out the donut with a single bite taken to him. 

“I’ll trade you,” you offered, knowing that in the end, it was just a donut compared to the grand scheme of things. 

“Thanks,” he muttered gratefully, a sideways smile spreading on his cheeks. He’ll admit, it was a sweet gesture, no matter how small. He handed you the chocolate donut, and took a bite out of the one you gave him. “Maple donuts are for real Canadians.”

“You’re Canadian?” you asked, a bit of surprise coming from you. You met him in Canada, but it was somehow still a shock to you. He seemed very American when you first met him, and even now. 

“S’one of the only things I can remember,” he nodded, his demeanor livening up quickly, and all because of a donut.

“Huh,” you stared off, wondering if he’d known Stryker for long before his memory faltered. Clearly he’d been abused by the man, but to what extent, you weren’t sure. You have bits and pieces of memories from that era, and most were just feelings of the energy around you.

“You didn’t know?” 

“You didn’t tell me…” you trailed, enjoying the chocolate donut, despite maple donuts being better. Him enjoying it was satisfying enough.

“We should get out of here,” he yawned, crumpling up the paper bag and tossing it into a nearby trash can. “Road is dark, and I’m tired.”

“Big, strong, manly… but gets tired on a little road trip?” You teased, finishing up the pastry before throwing away the trash and getting back on the bike with him.

“You try steering this thing all day.” He threw a smirk over his shoulder, revving the engine. 

“I would, if you’d let me,” you chided, another taunt that you knew wouldn’t end in your favor. He’d never be caught dead on the back of a motorcycle like this with someone else behind the handles.

“Not a chance…” 

-

Having checked into the small motel, you ached for a shower, but given that Logan was practically falling asleep already, you let him go first. 

Maybe it was a mistake, he’d been in there for a while, and you thought maybe all the hot water would be gone by the time it was your turn. You just hoped he hadn’t fallen asleep in there, propped against the shower wall. 

You might just shower tomorrow at this point, unwilling to wait for the water to heat back up. 

With a sigh, you changed into something a little more comfortable, the pair of sweatpants and sweater that were shoved to the bottom of your giant backpack. It was wrinkled as all hell from the journey, but you knew that didn’t matter. It was cozy, and warm, and being in Canada as late fall was setting in meant you needed to be as warm as possible. 

You curled up on the queen bed closest to the heater with your book, which you’d deemed necessity enough to bring on this escapade to another country.

When Logan finally emerged, he’d adorned a pair of flannel pants, and a gray t-shirt, which was admittedly a bit small for him. The fabric hugged his body a bit tighter than he was used to, but good lord almighty… this man looked stunning. 

The dim light from the bathroom, mixed with the warm glow from your bedside lamp while you read, it made him look like he glistened. The stray water drops on his face and neck, and the quickly curling upwards strands of his damp hair. You never guessed that his hair just did that naturally. You found yourself staring a little too long, and as soon as Logan picked up on it, dropping the towel he used to dry his hair, he chanced a look in your direction. Quickly your eyes found the pages of your book again, and you kept a straight face, hoping nothing would be said about it.

“That a good book?” he smirked, knowing that you could barely even focus on it a second ago. 

“Mhm,” you zoned in on the words, reading them over and over, but none of what they mean stuck in your head. You could only think about what you just saw, and what you still could see if only you turned your gaze. 

“It looks old,” he commented on the bent pages and old fabric cover. It looked worn and well loved. 

“It is old. I got it on the day it was released in nineteen fifty-three.”

He whistled lowly, his eyebrows raising in surprise. “You read it a lot?”

“Once a year,” you mumbled, still acting engrossed with the page you’d been stuck on since he entered the room. “It’s my favorite book.”

“What’s it about?” He sat down on the edge of his bed, leaning forward and looking at you tiredly. He was exhausted, wasn’t he? Why didn’t he just say goodnight and go to bed?

“The future… the way the author thinks our societies will begin to crumble,” you explained, turning towards him and letting the book fall on your chest, pages still open. “Books will be outlawed, and a group called the firemen will be required to burn any that are found.”

“Sounds interesting… also sounds a little miserable. Why’s it your favorite?” He grinned, throwing his sheets and blankets up and lying beneath them, keeping his head propped up on his hand so he wouldn’t fall asleep yet. The warm glow of your bedside lamp cast him in such a pretty glow…

“I think it feels very real to me, in a way…”

“You think books are gonna be outlawed?” He laughed slightly, clearly finding himself misunderstanding your meaning. 

“No, but with the way things are playing out, it feels like a projection of what’s to come. Of course, they will make the enemies of the future out to be mutants, not books.”

“And these… firemen,” he put finger quotes around the word, trying to be hypothetical about the situation. “You think there will be groups like that?” 

“Mutant hunters? Absolutely… They’re already out there, just look at what happened to us,” you sighed, the facts of the matter weighing you down, even though it had been a pleasant conversation. You enjoyed talking about your favorite book, but everyone in the mansion had already heard about it a thousand times. It was refreshing to get a new audience to share thoughts with. 

“I never thought about it that way…” he furrowed his brow, his eyes drooping with every second passed. He had to be fighting sleep for his life. 

“Mutants are supposed to be the future… but we’ll never see that future if we have to battle extinction.” 

He didn’t reply, his mind elsewhere. You watched him carefully, his face looking deep in thought. You returned to your book by the time he finally spoke up again. 

“You’ll have to let me borrow that book sometime,” he rolled over as he said it, so when you glanced over at him, his back was facing you. “G’night, Alice.”

“Night, Logan…”

-

In the morning, you woke up later than usual, no alarm clock or imminent threat looming to pull you from your slumber. It was nice, being able to wake up naturally for the first time in years. You felt so well rested that you nearly forgot where you were. The chill air of the morning surrounded you just outside of the thick blankets and sheets you were under, but it wasn’t unpleasant, it was refreshing. 

When you opened your eyes, you began to recall everything slowly. Sitting up, you find that Logan isn’t in the bed across from you, or in the room at all. You furrow your brow and stand to your feet, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes when a note catches your eye. 

Placed on a tiny table by the janky minifridge, there’s a paper bag and a torn off napkin with some words scribbled on it. 

Be back soon… got you something.

Inside the paper bag was a maple donut. It looked really good, too. Much better than the fifty-cent one you’d traded to him the night before. 

You smiled and took a bite, eating while going about your morning routine, wanting to shower and  get ready to leave the motel. You weren’t sure what Logan was up to, but with him being Canadian and all, you’re sure he’s just happy to be back. 

He knocked on the door, the latch lock seeming to have been flipped over when he left. 

You dropped your change of clothes back onto your bed, running over to the door and letting him in. He seemed to have a relaxed grin on his face, and looking at his clothing, there was a light sheen of icy water coating his leather jacket. 

“C’mere,” he pulled you along, completely barefoot and still in your pajamas. 

Once outside, you saw that the grounds were covered with just a small dusting of snow. It wasn’t thick, or freezing, but it was still falling around you, and you suddenly didn’t mind getting dragged away from the warm room. 

“It’s snowing already?” You asked in confusion, as if he had the answer. 

“It’s Canada, what did you expect?” 

You just continued to enjoy the pretty sights around you, then realized your feet were still bare and you were likely going to make yourself sick if you didn’t go back inside. 

“Let me go shower and we can check out,” you muttered, looking at him and finding he was just as captured by the beauty of a quickly approaching winter wonderland. 

“I’ll make sure the bike is thawed out,” he joked, nodding to you. 

After you went back inside, he walked around to the front to where the bike was parked in the covered area. It wasn’t too cold, but it would still need some time for the metal to heat up. He’d been able to start the motor not too long after, and pulled it around the side of the motel to be closer to where you had stayed. 

He should have knocked before going inside, and he regrets not doing so, but upon opening the door to you half dressed, having yet to pull up your jeans, he seems to be frozen in place. You don’t notice him at first, and with the second glance he gets, he sees all the scars littered over your legs and hips. He remembers the first night when you’d put all the pieces together, knowing you’d met him before. You knew about his past, and he got a peek into yours. You'd told him a man named Stryker gave you those scars.

“Shit, Logan…” You trailed, yanking up your jeans faster and hopping your feet to speed up the process. When you noticed he’d just been standing there you panicked, and nearly fell down trying to get your pants up. “Don’t you knock?”

“I’m sorry,” he blinked himself out of it, furrowing his brow and dripping his eyes. He had to physically shake himself from the trance. “I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine,” you stopped him, grabbing your things and packing them away, sliding your backpack on and walking past him. Your hair was still wet from your shower, but you didn’t want to stay inside and let the moment linger any longer. “Let’s get out of here, we still have a long way to drive.”

-

The hike through the fresh snow had been a little uncomfortable, mostly happening in silence. Since this morning, you’d barely spoken a word to him. You’d ridden miles and miles on the back of the bike without talking. Usually he was the silent type himself, but he’d felt bad for what happened, even after apologizing, so he decided it rested on his shoulders to break the quiet streak.

“I’ve been thinking… those scars,” he tried to broach the subject lightly, looking at you with a careful eye. “You’d said you were bulletproof, and fireproof. I had it in my head that you were impenetrable.”

“I am,” you gave him a flat stare, nodding your head a little.

“Then how were they able to cut you up?” 

Poor phrasing, but he was never one for a gentle touch in his wording. 

“Same way you were able to,” you reminded him, rolling up your sleeve to show where his claw marks had almost completely healed over. “Adamantium.”

“Adamantium? You’re kidding,” he almost found it funny, the irony of it all. He’s the only one who can touch you, but he’s also the only one who can hurt you. “How’d they figure that out?”

You kept on with your trek through the forest, the explanation rolling around in your head before you told him aloud.

“They’d been trying to take me apart for years, and all I’d do is rot in a cell… then they found a mutant called Lava, and she was the only person who could melt the adamantium they’d discovered. I guess they ran out of options with me… so,” you sighed, raising your eyebrows and trying to keep composure while talking about it. Opening up to him did little to help his own memory, but you did so anyway. Because he asked. “They coated a surgical set in adamantium to see what would happen… and it worked. They started taking parts of me wherever I could spare them.”

He had come to a slow stop, but you hadn’t noticed, continuing through the forest on your own, trying to make it to the edge of the lake before it got too dark. You at least wanted to pinpoint the location for tomorrow’s journey through the past. 

You turned around to see him standing dead still, a look on his face the likes of which you couldn’t decipher… What was he thinking behind those pretty eyes? 

“Logan, you okay?” 

He blinked out of his thoughts. You wondered if maybe he was remembering something and you’d stopped him. 

“Yeah, I just,” he shook his head and caught up with you, the solemn look not leaving his face. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

You shrugged, keeping in stride with him, not falling behind or going ahead this time. The conversation helped ease the awkwardness that came before in the silence. “It’s alright. It was a while ago… besides, you were the one who saved me, you don’t need to be the one apologizing.”

The hike kept on in a much more comfortable silence. The sun would be going down soon, and you didn’t want to spend the night out in the woods, especially when it had been starting to snow today. 

When you came across the small stream, leading to the edge of the lake, you picked up speed. 

“Should be right up here,” you told him, leading the way through the mucky ground, moist with melted snow and mud. 

You’d seen it before he did. You stopped in your tracks the second you looked across. 

He caught up, taking a look for himself, but quickly growing concerned with howtense and unmoving you were. Your expression had changed from the relaxed one it had been wearing to a firm yet frightened stare. It was eerily quiet, and you couldn’t move your feet. Your hands balled into fists and one at a time, the memories of this place came rushing back. Just seeing the base, abandoned and covered in rust, was enough to make you want to cry. You felt all the loneliness, all the pain, and all the lost hope that used to plague you in this very place.

“You okay, kid?” Logan came closer, and you nodded, putting on a brave face and turning to him with a forced look of calmness. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you even managed a stiff smile, but you refused to turn back towards the base, letting your shoulder have the pleasure of the view instead. “It’s getting dark, though.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, watching as you were quickly back on the path you came from, trying to keep the composure that you weren’t sure would hold. “Alright.”

He trailed on after you, and just before the sun was all the way below the mountains, you’d managed to get back to the road. The bike was cold again, but thankfully it started without a problem. 

He’d tried too hard to get to a comfortable place with you, but again he felt back at square one, sitting in awkward silence like he did this morning. Your hold on him wasn’t as tight as usual, and you didn’t seem to care how unsteady it was with every turn of the bike. 

You rode down the street about ten miles or so before coming across a small fishing town, with restaurants, bars, neighborhood markets, and even a cozy little motel. Much better looking than the one you’d stayed in the night previous.

He’d been the one to get checked in tonight, getting everything settled and making sure you were comfortable. You still weren’t in a chatty mood, but you’d loosened up just enough to have civil conversation, and answer the questions he would ask you. 

He let you take the first shower tonight, and you were out in only a few minutes, racing to get tucked into bed as quickly as possible. 

He took his time, knowing you were probably just going through the motions of being here, and he needed to let you experience it at your own pace. After all, you remember this place, and he doesn’t. The only thing he recalls are the torturous nightmares that plague his sleep. That alone tells him all he needs to know about the horrors and chaos this place caused.

He’s surprised to find you still awake when he gets out of the shower, towel around his hips and water running over his body. He thought you’d be asleep, so out of habit he didn’t bring his clothes in with him to change. 

He sees you’re reading your book, the one about the future. You’re so engrossed in it, your eyes never leaving the pages. He wonders if it’s a coping tool, a comfort item of sorts. He’d never thought of a book as a security blanket before, being written words on paper.

He didn’t say anything yet, unwilling to interrupt how calm you seemed to be now. Just grabbed his clothes and went back to the bathroom. 

Maybe going back there tomorrow isn’t a good idea. He appreciates the openness of your heart to do such a favor for him, but he doesn't want to cause you distress for his own gain. You’ve shown him where it is. He knows how to find it on his own, now. If he can convince you to stay back here, he’ll go on his own, find the answers himself. 

When he emerges the second time, you’ve laid your book down on the bedside table, placing a bookmark between the worn pages before settling yourself. He sits down on the edge of his own bed, and makes eye contact. You don’t break it first, but you remain silent. A man of few words, but he seemed to be the more chatty one today.

“I didn’t say anything before, but you seemed a little, uh… scared, earlier.”

You didn’t change the expression you wore, but somehow he could feel the shift in your emotions. He just wanted to ask and see if this was too much for you.

“I wasn’t scared, just remembered some stuff is all,” You sighed out, laying down and still looking over at him here and there, but not willing to speak more than what you’d said.

“You wanna talk about it?” 

It was an open offer, but he already knew the answer. For someone who seemed so extroverted and talkative when he met you, you’d somehow turned into a reserved and silent little girl since this morning.

“No…” You trailed, the word coming out soft and gentle.

“Okay,” he nodded, getting comfortable before rolling over and calling out to you as you turned out the light. “Goodnight…”

“Night, Logan.”

-

In the morning, you were already awake, clinging to your knees as you focused very hard on looking out the window by your bed. When he looked at the clock and read six, he figured you must not have slept well. He barely slept most of the time. His regeneration made it easy to stay awake days at a time, and he only needed a few hours to function. Not to mention he was often plagued with nightmares. He hasn’t had them the past few nights, which he finds strange, but at the same time, he isn’t complaining whatsoever. 

He swung his legs out of bed when he saw you were unmoving, just like yesterday at the lake. 

“Hey,” he placed a hand at your shoulder, softly breaking you from your endless stare. “You doin’ alright?” 

“Yeah, I just woke up a little early.”

Your little smile was forced, and he could tell, but didn’t say anything to negate your response. He just sat down beside you on the edge of the bed, looking outside the window where your gaze lingered. There was nothing specific to look at, just a view of the parking lot, and a few trees framed a small log cabin bar next door. 

“I uh… I had an idea last night…” he trailed, gaining your attention as you turned to him. “What if we took a few days.”

“What do you mean?” you furrowed your brows, tilting your head as you laid it on your curled up knees. 

“I mean, what if we don’t go to the base right away?” he suggested with a shrug. It had been a good idea in his head, to straggle behind a few days, and make the journey through the past when you were more settled. “I could tell the way it got to you last night, after you saw it.”

“Logan, I’m fine. Promise,” you nodded your head as if to assure yourself, but even as you were doing it you knew it didn’t look convincing. 

“You weren’t fine,” he corrected, unafraid to voice his concerns by now. “Look, you brought me here, and I’m really grateful… but you were uncomfortable to even look at that place, and I could see that.”

You huffed out a sigh, shaking your head and trying to seem like there was no reason for concern. You didn’t want him to back out after coming all this way just on your account. This was for him, not for you. 

“I’ll be okay,” you put on a more stern face, grabbing his hand. The gesture was more for your own comfort rather than his, but even still, you meant what you said. “I’d spent a long time trying to forget that place, and last night everything just sort of came back… but as long as you’re there, I’ll be okay.”

He listened constantly, the warmth of your touch was always so energizing to him. It made him feel like he was somehow stronger and charged with determination. He figured it had something to do with your mutation, and his ability to survive it. Not just survive, but thrive on it.

“You saved me from Stryker, Logan,” you let your legs fall from their curled position, scooting just a bit closer to him, his eyes never leaving yours, and his hand still lingered around the skin of your own. “I feel safe when I’m with you.”

His chest tightened when he heard those words. He’d realized only now what the professor's words meant a few mornings ago. He recalls exactly how they were said, and why. 

Don’t hurt her, Logan. 

It wasn’t just about the ability to touch, which he would admit was definitely a struggle in itself when he’d thought about how long you’ve been alive, with no one to cling to. Aside from the skin to skin contact, you trusted him. You felt safe in his presence. Most of all, you were doing all of this for him without asking anything in return, and he figured you didn’t even care if you got anything out of it in the long run. 

Charles didn’t want Logan to fall all over you in immediate love and commitment. He just wanted him to take care of you, attend to you and make sure you weren’t without comfort, especially in this terrible place you were headed. 

Her pain will become your own. 

It wasn’t about you becoming vengeful if you got hurt, and it wasn’t about your loved ones making him pay for his actions. He understood that now, too. It was about the guilt and shame he would feel for not having been there to help you should anything happen. Should this very situation happen. He won’t let you go it alone. 

“C’mere,” he sat further back, raising his other arm and beckoning you to sit closer with him. 

You didn’t even hesitate to climb under his wing so to speak, and lean against him as he’d gestured for you to do. He wrapped that arm around you, his head resting over top of your soft and slightly unruly morning hair. His other hand stayed in yours, unbudging for the time you sat there. 

At one point you’d felt so calm you closed your eyes, just absorbing his energy and feeling the comfort from it. It was a rough and hard facade at first, but his energy held layers, and the more you relaxed into him, the better you could feel what lies beneath. You could feel his gentleness, and his soft spirit, willing him to go wherever the wind blows. You could feel the slight sadness and confusion that he seemed to internalize every day. Probably from lacking his past, the memories and the people he used to have before Stryker messed him up. 

“I think taking a few days doesn’t sound so bad, you know?” You said quietly, just loud enough to reach his ears. 

“Yeah?” he smiled, looking down at you when you nodded. Your expression was happier than it had been before, the traces of fear were gone from your eyes. “It’ll be fun. I’ll show you a good time, then maybe you can change your mind about Canada.”

“Unlikely,” you laughed softly, your own smile taking over as you met his eyes. “You’re not so bad, for a Canadian, though.”

“I’ll take what I can get.”

He’d stuck to his word. 

He’d shown you a good time around the small town, though he claims he’s never been there before. All the small business families were very kind and embracing, although it got to a point where talking to them was becoming detrimental to the length of your trip. Everywhere you went into, whether it be a shop, a small town bakery, or even an entertainment hub, there were people recommending things to do and see. And of course, you were not one to say no to an Adventure. 

On the back of the motorcycle, you’d gone practically all over the town, meeting people, and always being introduced the same way by Logan. 

‘I’m Canadian, she’s not… She doesn’t like it here much, I wanna change her mind.’

You laughed almost every time at the way the people would react, but would nod gleefully when they made suggestions on activities. You found yourself liking Canada, but only because Logan was here. He was making you laugh, and smile wider than you think you ever have. Not even three days into this endeavor, and already you’ve decided you’re falling for him. 

You don’t know how deeply he reciprocates those feelings, because he’s a flirt with nearly everyone… but the soft and gentle moments, like this morning, lead you to believe there’s something else there. Some part of him that is drawn to you like you are to him. 

His lingering touch on the small of your back when he opens the door and guides you through, or the arm slung around your shoulder to steer you in a different direction when something interesting catches his eye. Even the way he nonchalantly fixes your hair when he’s talking to you and the wind blows it out of place. It’s all so casual in the way it happens, and yet, it means everything to someone like you. Someone who has lived for two centuries without the normalcy of touch and comfort from another person. 

You try not to focus too much on what it means, and decide to live in the moment to enjoy each time those little touches happen. 

By the end of the day, you think maybe he’s taking you back to the ‘Cozy Pine Tree Inn’ that you were rooming at… but instead he pulls into the parking lot across the sidewalk. 

The half-working neon sign over the porch read ‘Jackalope Neighborhood Pub’ and when you looked inside, there must have been about ten people total, including the two bartenders behind the counter. 

It wasn’t a huge place to begin with, and the population of the town was probably less than the amount of students you had each week, but it was cozy, and you appreciated the warmth of it all, even though it was brutally cold. 

“Go on inside, I gotta put this under that covering in case it snows,” he encouraged, letting you hop off with a spring in your step. 

The inside was just as you thought it would be. Cozy, warm, dimly lit. The walls were covered in old pictures and heads of various hunted animals from up in the mountains. Sitting down at the bar, you shed your jacket and let it hang on the back of your low-back stool, keeping your gloves on for safety.

“Hi there, pretty darlin,” a man came up beside you, a smile on his face and a drunken twinkle in his eye. 

“Hi,” you smiled back kindly, nodding to him.

“Never seen you here before, I guess you’re new,” he came a bit closer, and even though he didn’t try anything yet, it made you nervous when people get this close. Your skin is covered, but it still makes you uneasy.

“I’m just visiting, actually… I live in New York.”

No, you didn’t owe him an explanation, but you felt the only way to keep him at bay would be to answer his curiosities as quickly as you could, not giving him room to think about anything else. 

“Why don’t I buy you a drink? A pretty girl in a place like this needs a drink.”

“I’m okay, but thank you. I’m actually here with someone, he’ll be back in a second,” you spoke quicker when the man took another step beside you, leaning up against the bar now and reaching for your hand. 

“Awe, c’mon… m’sure your buddy won’t mind,” he tried to grab at your forearm in a teasing manner, but you pulled your hands from the counter, pulling your sleeves down to cover the skin of your wrist that your gloves didn’t quite shield.

“Don’t touch me,” you rushed out, a panic beginning to pour over your words. “You could get hurt.”

“I could get hurt, huh? You're gonna hurt me, pretty thing?”

“You don’t understand,” you breathed shallow, trying to keep calm to no avail. “Please, just leave me alone.”

“Baby, I think you want me to stay right here,” he again got closer, trying to cage you in by bringing his arms on both sides of you and trapping your stool in front of him. 

Simply trying to get out of the situation without causing a scene, you leaned forward against the bar, pushing at one arm to try and sneak out… but as it turns out, you didn’t even have to.

Logan pulled the man away by his neck, looking him face to face and giving a harsh but somehow unbothered stare. This man was of no real threat to him, clearly.

“Leave my girl alone…” he let out calmly, though it was filled with threat. You knew he’d only added the possession for effective purposes, but you felt your heart stutter in your chest at the sound of it. 

The man didn’t even speak another word, rushing off to the other side of the bar. He wasn’t a small man by any means, but Logan, standing at six foot two, with a strong build and a deep temperament was sure to scare anyone off. 

Logan sat down at the bar next to you, ordering a beer for himself, and a whiskey for you. He owed you some payback Jack Daniel’s, if he remembers correctly. 

“Thanks,” you threw him a smile and a nod, which he returned. 

“Guy’s a creep,” he let out, his brows raised and an eager look on his face when the beer bottle was set in front of him. “Hope he didn’t ruin Canada for you.”

You laughed for what had to be the hundredth time today, shaking your head. 

“Of course, not. The only thing that could ruin it is what we actually came here to do,” you joked, sipping on your drink as soon as it was put in front of you. 

There was a beat of silence, before a thought that popped into Logan’s mind turned into a question. 

“So, how long have you been at the school?” 

You gave him a glance, tilting your head and trying to think of an answer that made sense.

“Well that depends, do you mean as it is today? Or when it first started?” You found yourself turning towards him more instead of facing the bar.

“Uh, all of it?” 

He took another swig and chuckled at the strangeness of your insistence for elaboration. It was a long and complicated story, but you had to find a simple and short way to explain it.

“Charles found me by cerebro a long time ago, when I was in New York City studying for my history degree,” you took another drink, eyes watching the ice swirl around the bottom of the glass as you tipped it in different directions. “He snatched me up, and a bunch of other mutants, and we saved the world… Which I guess is a typical Tuesday now, but back then it was a big deal for us. The professor had opened the school, but I left right after some of the others did..”

“You left? Why?” His confusion stemmed from what he’s seen. That place was your home, and those people were your family. He doesn’t know why any mutant would want to leave the walls of that mansion, where it was safe.

You shrugged, a bit hesitant to even try and remember what the real reasoning was. “It was the sixties, everyone wanted their own path of freedom. That was the thing back then, wasn't it? Free love, free drugs, free spirits.”

He raised a brow, looking at you with a bit of surprise, which faded just as fast. 

“I keep forgetting how old you are,” he smirked, huffing a small laugh and shaking his head. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were barely an adult.”

You often thought about that. What you would have looked like if you’d been able to grow older. Would your face have thinned out from its girlish fullness? Would you have formed little crows feet at the corners of your eyes? Would you even resemble the same person you’ve looked in the mirror to see for all these years?

“If you want to be technical, I’m physically twenty.”

“Awe, just a baby,” he teased, giving you a slight elbow to the arm. “So is that part of your mutation, then?” 

“No, actually,” you began, throwing back the rest of your drink before explaining further. “The way my body works is like anyone else’s… I have to have energy and sustenance to survive, all that nonsense…”

He’d been very interested to find out about you, since he’d yet to find anything out about himself. Especially since he’d figured your mutation was the reason for your long life span. 

“But since I’m made up of different kinds of energy, matter, antimatter, and a third substance unknown to science yet, I can draw sustenance from things other than food and rest.”

“Like what?” 

You took your little green glove off one hand, and reached for his forearm, which he was currently leaning on against the bar. You focused on doing what you’d done the night that Rogue had injured him, forcing energy into him instead of taking it. 

“You feel that?” 

His eyes got a bit wider, and he watched your hand, there was just the slightest bit of an iridescent glow around his skin where you touched him. It was vague and unnoticeable if you weren’t really looking, and he was. “Yeah…”

“It’s called energy transference. I absorb energy from everything around me, and I can use it to create things… shields, small detonations, and as I recently found out with you, the ability to restore energy from depletion,” you listed, trying to get to the point, but of course, he didn’t understand how it was all connected. 

“And what, it keeps you from aging?” he asked, like it didn’t make any sense, and to be fair, you didn’t really lead with the cause, so you understood his confusion. 

“Not really, no…” you thought back to the day it all happened, so many years ago and yet you’ll never forget it. “When I absorb energy, it sustains me… but when I turned twenty, I was struck by lightning.”

He let out a low whistle, thinking to himself that it was a wild turn of events in your background that he wasn’t expecting. 

“The professor thinks it caused a power surge in my anatomy. Being able to absorb the strike instead of it killing me, my cells were able to store that energy and prevent me from aging.” 

He understood now, blinking a few times as the process settled into his mind. He wonders what else your powers can do, but doesn’t want to keep pushing you on it. 

“Huh,” he looked to the bar for a minute, eyes going over the spot on his arm that still held just the slightest glow of energy without being easily seen. “I don’t really age all that much either…”

“I heard,” you replied, giving him a once over. He was probably one of the most beautiful men you’d ever come across, and knowing that his aging process was also stunted was nearly a blessing in your eyes. 

“I still do, just real slow,” he explained, running a hand through his hair, the kitty ears becoming more prominent when he did. “Guessing by how little I’ve changed in the last fifteen years, I might be close to your age. Maybe a little younger… I just don’t remember.”

His tone falls into a solemness in the end, and you frown at the change in his energy. He’d been having a good time until now, when he started to think about his past, but there was nothing to find. You again reached out for him, taking his hand like you’d grown accustomed to in the past few days. Touching him would never become dull, or feel any less important. You suspected that years from now you would still feel the same tingly and warm sensation from being able to meet his skin to yours.

“You will,” you promised. Even if it takes you a lifetime, you’ll help him find himself. His past, and who he was. 

-

The next day was Sunday, and it went on like the day before… but one thing was different. Two things, technically. 

One, Logan held your hand whenever there was a long distance of walking to be done. Two, his funny and somewhat playful introductions from the day before had been given a small twist. Instead of just saying, ‘I’m Canadian, she’s not,’ there was an added layer of possession. ‘I’m Canadian, my girl isn’t.’

After last night in the bar, something was different. You couldn’t put your finger on what exactly made him switch up his actions around you, and towards you, but it wasn’t in your direct focus. You were much too busy enjoying the sudden change, and the casualness in which it was implemented. 

You wondered if you should ask him about it, but every time you gained an opportunity to do so, you lost the courage. Maybe he was just doing it because it felt normal to be this way with a traveling companion? Maybe he was just putting up a front for the townspeople, so he didn’t have to try so hard to explain the situation between the two of you. 

He’d been so gentle, so domesticated, it felt like he’d grown fully comfortable with you. You’d been the same with him, squeezing his hand whenever he grabbed yours. 

His touch, his words, and more importantly, the look in his eyes whenever he caught you staring… It all led you to believe there was something lurking, just waiting to be let out. 

When you’d returned to the motel that night, giggling about the state of his hair after a tree branch full of snow collapsed on him, he’d rolled his eyes, giving you a playful shove into your own bed while he mumbled about ‘rinsing the pine needles off’ of himself. 

“I’m gonna go down to the Lobby, I wanna call Ororo,” you said, the wide smile still on your face. 

He nodded, not even waiting for you to leave before he started stripping down his clothes. His jacket first, then his flannel. When he was left in the gray beater he wore beneath it all, he stopped for a moment, throwing a glance over his shoulder at you with a smirk. He knew you’d been watching, and he was too big of a tease to tell you to look away, or to remove himself to the bathroom. 

He turned back around, and pulled the thin fabric over his head, throwing it to his pile by the duffel bag. 

He didn’t need to look at you again to know he would catch you staring. He just went about his business as if you weren’t there. Asshole. 

You almost couldn’t breathe. The only person on this entire planet that can touch you, and you got lucky enough that it was Logan. This man was strongly built, and chiseled as if from marble stone. He wasn’t overly muscular or too big, but just enough that you swore God sent him down from the heavens to roam about the earth as his most glorious creation. The way his back muscles tensed when he reached into his bag for a change of clothes, or the way his abs contracted when he stood back upright, it made your hands fidget. You wanted to stand before him and do the one thing you couldn’t do to anyone else. You wanted to touch his gorgeous, warm toned skin. 

When he was about to head to the bathroom, he finally gave you a glance, his smirk even stronger when he read your expression. 

“You gonna go call her or not?” 

“Right,” you blinked, standing up and rushing around to grab your jacket and gloves. 

You’d rushed down to the lobby as fast as your feet could carry you, the stiff breeze doing nothing to quench your excitement. You loaded two quarters into the payphone in the lobby’s hallway, facing away from the stench of the crappy bathrooms nearby. 

You tapped your leg nervously as you told the operator the correct information and waited for Storm to answer. It wasn’t too late, everyone should still be awake. 

The dial went until the second to last before she picked up. 

“Hello?” Her voice sounded like music to your ears. 

“Ro, it’s me,” you said as gently as you could, having to repress your energy. “I just wanted to check in…”

“Check in? Everything is normal here… what about you, have you found the base yet? How’s Logan?” 

Her rushed questions came out when she realized who she was speaking to. She’d waited days for this call, and honestly, you weren’t one to disappoint. 

“We’ve located it, yeah. We’re hiking out there tomorrow,” you explained, leaving out the part where you took a two day joyride through a small Canadian town with the man you’ve deemed is your favorite Canadian. “And Logan’s good. We’ve been having a great time so far.”

“A great time, huh? So I was right to be afraid that I’d never see you again…” she trailed, only partly joking. In truth, she wants you to be happy, but she also wants you to come home. 

“Oh relax, we’ll be back before you know it.”

You heard a muffled yelling, like she’d covered the phone to reprimand some students, before she was back on the line. 

“Well, tell me everything, what’s Canada like? Is it as bad as you remember?” She teased, figuring by the sound of your voice and the smile she could practically hear coming through the phone, that your opinion had been swayed. 

“Canada itself is fine, but Logan is something else entirely,” you raised a brow, leaning into the phone panel on the wall and twisting the cord in your fingers like a love-struck schoolgirl. “Did you know he was Canadian?”

“I thought he might be, wasn't sure.”

“Well, I take back hating Canada, he’s actually made me like it…” you trailed, fighting yet another wide smile from only thoughts of today. “He’s made me like him… a lot.”

“Baby, it’s only been four days,” she laughed on the other end. You could tell she was debating knocking sense into you, or asking for details. The latter won in the end. “So did he kiss you, or what?” 

“No, he hasn’t kissed me,” you said with a sigh, wishing the statement hadn’t been true. “But he’s been so… different. He holds my hand, he hugs me when I’m cold… he’s been introducing me to everyone we talk to as ‘his girl’.” 

“So what I’m hearing is, I need to be making wedding preparations for when you get back?” She huffed out another laugh, hand on her hip as she leaned into a wall in the mansion. She knew this was going to happen. You got attached to people very easily, but Logan was an entirely different can of worms. He could touch you, he could hold you, and he could be with you in ways no one else would ever be able to. That made him your ideal attachment. If you believed in soulmates, you’d say he was yours. Uniquely created with a mutation that matched your own in the opposite form. 

“See, you think that’s funny,” you laughed along with her through the phone, titling your head and speaking with confidence. “But I’m absolutely gonna marry him someday.”

She rolled her eyes, and you could almost hear it through the phone. “As crazy as you sound, I believe you… but give it more than four days to be sure, yeah?”

“Fine… I’ll give it till the end of the trip,” you taunted. You knew it was crazy to be making these bets now, but you were just so certain that this man would be your endgame. He was the only one who could be… right? 

“That’s all I can ask for from you… Just be safe, and tell him I said hi, okay?” She quickly tried to get off the phone, and you could hear the rowdy children making a ruckus in the background of where she was. 

“I will… tell everyone there that I miss them, and I’ll be back soon.”

“Will do, bye baby…” she rushed out her goodbye before the line went dead. 

You smiled, mumbling a small ‘bye’ under your breath as you hung up the phone and headed back for the room. 

The room was a bit steamy when you first walked in, with the bathroom door having been left open to air out. Logan was reclined in the bed furthest to the wall, nothing but flannel bottoms on while he was kicked back and relaxed. He had one arm behind his head, and his other perched at his side to hold up a book in his hand. Your book… the one you’d finished last night. 

“Hey,” he smiled at you as you walked through the door. “Sorry I didn’t ask, it looks interesting.”

You furrowed your brow with your own surprised smile, shaking your head. “No, it’s okay… I think you’ll like it.”

“So far I do… I promise I’ll be careful with it, I know it’s old,” he defended yet again, even though you would give him that precious copy if it made him happy. 

“It’s fine, what’s mine is yours,” you kept on, laying your coat on the back of a chair for the night. “Besides, you can’t do anymore damage to it that I haven’t already done.”

“I noticed you dogear the pages…” he raised a brow in your direction, as if accusing you of something. 

“I know, it’s terrible…” you trailed, sitting on the edge of his bed and watching him for a moment. He went back to the book, completely engrossed in what was probably still the first chapter. “What part are you on?” 

“Burn ‘em to ashes, then burn the ashes,” he remarked, and you nodded. He seemed to be pretty hooked on only the first few pages. “You were right, y’know? About comparin’ this kinda future to ours. It’s nasty stuff…”

“It only gets worse, keep reading.”

You got up, grabbing your clothes and heading for a shower. He had been considerate enough to save plenty of hot water for you.

-

The weekend was over, and unfortunately it was time to go where this entire journey was meant to lead. Stryker’s base. 

The ride to the bridge was silent, but the second you arrived, Logan turned to you with a look of sincerity. 

“Look, I know that you’re doing this for me,” he began, bringing a hand to your arm in the most gentle way possible. “But if you start feelin’ like you did the other day… I have no problem going in on my own, alright?”

“I’ll be okay, Logan. You’re here with me,” you reminded him, placing your hand over his and giving it a squeeze. “Let’s go…”

He nodded, letting you take the lead, because as was made clear before the trip even began, you were the one who remembered this place, and he was the one trying to regain those memories. 

“When did you come here?” He asked, and it was an innocent question except for the implications.

“I didn't come here, I was taken. I'd just passed the bar exam back in New York, and I was gonna be a lawyer for a while, but Stryker got to me first,” You explained, not taking offense to his wording. You’d known he was a little brash with the things he said, but he could also be gentle and sweet.

“How long were you here?” His voice softened this time.

“About six years, got here near the start of the program, lived to the end of it.”

“And what about me?” He’d begun walking side by wide with you, not straggling behind like before. His curiosity wasn’t the only reason for his questioning, but it was a factor. He mostly just wanted to keep you distracted from looming amongst your own thoughts in silence, getting closer and closer to the base. 

“You came towards the end, but he was planning to have you for years. That mutant I told you about, the one who melted the adamantium? They had her powering the machine long before you even came to the island.”

Your explanation caught him off guard a bit. When he’d asked if you came here, you said you were taken, but now you told him he had come… meaning he made the decision to do it.

“And I… came willingly?” He titled his head with furrowed brows, unsure why anyone would want to come to this place, if it was as bad as you say.

“From what I understand, you did at first. I think you ran away when you knew of Stryker's plans,” You reasoned, not completely remembering everything. Not that you were even apart of those dealings in the first place.

“Did I meet you then?”

You smiled and shook your head. You’d wished you’d been able to catch a glimpse of him the first time, what he’d been like before Stryker tortured him and turned him into a piece of metal.

“No, I never met you the first time. But I could feel you,” you tried your best to describe, nearly failing for how little you could actually say instead of showing him.

He seemed to understand it enough, remembering the way your powers work. He came to a halt beside you, giving you a look and asking the next question. “How did I feel?”

You stopped, too. You looked at his eyes now, and they seemed so full of something you couldn’t explain, but couldn’t look away from, either.

“Sad… Angry.”

“And now?” He asked, a serene expression on his features when he was looking at you.

“You’re still tense, but your emotions are softer, calmer.” You raised a hand to his face, trailing slightly over the facial hair that had slightly grown out the last few days. It suited him, you thought.

After a few moments, you felt a shiver run down your spine from the cold, and snapped out of your daze, continuing on the path ahead, and leading him through an old abandoned tunnel. This tunnel was not full of bad memories, but a rather fond one. The day you had escaped, you followed Scott through this tunnel to meet the Professor on the other side.

He seemed to be taking everything in, noting every intricate detail of the place to try and place it. Nothing sprung from the back of his mind, so he doesn’t know if anything significant enough happened here that he might have a cognitive reset, but he keeps trying, going through each stretch of the base like something might pop up.

You froze still when you got to the edge of the cell block. The cages were just as he’d left them, completely and utterly destroyed by his claws. 

“This is it, huh?” He stood still, too. The weight of the area was easy to feel, and though he didn’t know why, he could almost sense the years of heaviness that was caused here. It was haunting.

“This is it,” you huffed, taking a step forward and treating it like you would any other place you visited. It’s just bricks and concrete and steel, it’s not like it should affect you this way. “The cell on the end is mine, the one three or four down was Scott’s.”

There were motion sensors everywhere. Long since forgotten about, and none were activated, but he could also see the security measures, and some of the poking and prodigy tools they must have used just scattered about. The leftover scenery of a hasty escape, by both the mutants and the inhabitants of this place.

“How did you even survive this?” He asked, the weight settling in on his shoulders even more, pushing him into the floor. 

“Most of us didn't. This entire block had new mutants every year. All except me,” you sighed out, running your fingers over the enclosure that you’d been contained in for so long. It was in the past now, and you stood beside the very testament to your escape. The man who freed you and had given you hope. Nothing bad could happen to you here as long as he was with you, now.

“Because you can't die...” He trailed, a single finger of his looming over the exposed skin of your neck. With him being so close, this little action almost seemed normal, but the cold weather made his hands cold, too, and the feeling of it caused a shiver. You stepped away with a shudder under your breath, but turned around and got close enough again to keep the energy from feeling awkward. No matter how cold his hands were, you still liked when he touched you.

“I wanted to. This was the worst part of my life. I never wanted to come back here.”

“Then why did you?” He crossed his arms, leaning against the cell block and leaning in. He knew the answer, or at least he thought he did. Charles made him clearly aware, not that he didn’t know already. 

“I wanna help you,” you looked down, too scared to meet his eyes and say something else besides what you wanted him to hear. “You saved me from this place, the least I can do is help you remember it.”

He nodded, thinking that maybe he was pushing too hard. Maybe he just needed to focus on himself… but something about this place, it made him feel that strange connection to you again. The one that he didn’t think he felt back at X-Manor. 

He took a few steps towards the frozen doors at the end of the block, likely leading into other parts of the base that were inaccessible. 

“How did it happen?” He turned back, wielding a small smirk.

“What?” you furrowed your brows, unsure of what exactly he meant.

“The rescue, how did it happen? Was I heroic?” He posed jokingly, hands on his hips to draw out a laugh from you, and it worked. Even in this place you were scared of, he could make you feel joy. 

“Yeah, you were…” you closed the distance between you, pushing him into position by the doors to reenact the scene. “It was pretty late at night, the sirens started going off, we all started panicking, we thought we were getting attacked or something. Most of us were weak, and could barely stand. My legs were likely broken and definitely cut apart from the tests they'd been doing… We thought it was the end. And then you came charging down the cellblock with this woman,” you sat back into your cell, feeling no semblance of fear from it now. He ran down to your cell with a cheesy grin, playing along for your amusement. “You both started to set everyone free. But you were the one who tore open my cage, and without thinking, I let you help me up…” you trailed, watching as per your story, he reached in and helped you to your feet just like he had done all those years ago. “That was the first time I touched you.”

You kept your hand in his, the tingling sensation still remaining, even though you’ve probably touched him a hundred times by now. 

“Wow… that uh… doesn’t sound like me…” he looked away from you, his hand pulling back and hanging it at his side. He’d broken the charade to think about how inaccurate this all sounded. Even though you were not a liar, and he could take your word for it, he just couldn’t seem to think of himself how you did. “Guess it's just a lot to take in..”

You’d painted him in such a heroic light, he wasn’t sure that heroic was a word that fit him very well, much less at all. All he knew of himself was a selfish loner, who occasionally did the right thing out of obligation and not duty.

“It is… take your time,” you tried your best to reel in the happiness you’d felt, because even though being here with him made you feel better… he was trying to remember himself, and maybe this wasn’t helping. 

“And the woman I was with, did you know her?” 

You hoped he wouldn’t ask about her, you didn’t want to disappoint him.

“I don't remember. She looked familiar, but I couldn't tell you who she was,” you think you saw her with Stryker a few times, but never by his side, always behind him, following orders. “She died not long after the breakout, the professor found her after he’d come back for the remaining survivors...”

He seemed deep in thought, facing the doors of the cellblock again and clenching his fists… was he remembering something?

“And I was with her, this woman?” the way he said it implied the depth of what he was really asking.

“From what I gathered at the time, yeah… but I wasn't in the best condition, so I could have just made it all up in my head. I definitely remember you, though.”

At this he turned back to face you, coming closer and lifting his lips in the very corners to resemble a not quite smile. It still turned your stomach in the best way.

“I'm just unforgettable, huh?” 

“Completely unforgettable. This is a part of my life that I have worked hard and trained myself to forget, but I remembered you instantly…” you confessed, not daring to look away from him now, when he was so clearly latched onto you. It didn’t matter what you said at this point, you were sure he must have known something of your feelings by now.

“Because I could touch you.”

You shook your head. “It was more than that. I'd never seen anything like you before.”

“Is that a good thing?” He teased, his full smile finally returning once the air felt lighter again.

You thought about that day. He’d come running through like a true action hero, saving everyone in his path. He had been here for something else entirely, you think, but he stopped to save you and the others. He’d been wearing a white beater that night, his shoulders glistening with sweat while his hair bounced with every step he took. It was longer then. The determined look in his eyes was something you also noticed, and the way they softened when he steadied you to your feet, touching your skin as no one had for over two hundred years. Yes, seeing him was a very good thing.

“Oh yeah, trust me.”

-

Having searched for other abandoned entry points of the base, and being unsuccessful, you opted to leave, but it had grown dark out, and there was no way you could hike all the way back to the motorcycle before the cold winds set in. It was too dark to even navigate the grounds, anyways. 

It was decided that you could set up a makeshift camp within the escape tunnel, as it was just slightly warmer than the outside. 

Logan didn’t talk much after leaving the base. He’d been all fun and games until he realized you both had finally made it to the place with the answers, but there were none. He didn’t take his frustrations out on you, but he didn’t exactly ignore them, either. In fact, he took to ignoring you instead. You tried striking up a conversation with him, and found he was in too sour a mood, and every comment you made about little things, like the sleeping bag in your backpack, or the water flask kept in his, he seemed to just grunt out a response to get back to the quiet. 

It wasn’t until the dead cold of the night that you’d been shivering your ass off, that you even dared to speak to him again. 

“This storm's getting worse… I'm gonna freeze to death.” 

He rolled over from his sleeping bag on the ground, a slanted brow on his face and a huff when he saw that you were truly cold. He was not in a good mood, and he didn’t want to deal with more bad situations.

“I thought you couldn’t die…” he grumbled, leaning up on one arm. You were curled up into a ball, all your layers on your body and the sleeping bag, but the snow was falling hard and fast outside, probably sealing you both into this icy tunnel. 

“I can't be killed. I can still technically die,” you explained, furthering the lore on your powers. He mentally added it to the list. Almost immortal, but not really so much in snowstorms.

“Then why are you still alive?” He mumbled sarcastically, trying not to be an asshole to the only person he was dependent on the past few days. 

“Because I'm careful.”

You sat up, and in the dim light he could see how pale you’d gotten, your lips a shade of cold purple instead of the soft pink they normally held.

“Aren't you made of energy? Just warm yourself up…” He suggested, as if you hadn’t thought of that. It wasn’t even in your ability wheel.

“I'm made of matter and antimatter, I don't radiate heat,” you argued, trying to maintain a sense of calm while being cold enough to power a refrigerator. 

“Fine, you know what? I'm not walking you back to the bike, just get over here,” he let out, holding open the sleeping bag for you to scoot into. You’d done so as quickly as possible, letting him drop his arm back over you in an instant. Already you could feel the fiery feeling he gave off into the air. 

“How are you so warm?”

“I don't know,” he shook his head, closing his eyes and trying to go to sleep. He wanted to be up with the sun tomorrow, so he could get back to the motel and get some quality rest.

“You don’t know why you feel like a toaster?” You joked with a sweet smile, but were quickly reminded he wasn’t in the mood.

“Do you ever stop talking?” 

“Sorry.”

In truth, he did feel bad about treating you like that. You’d done so much for him, and all he’d done was snap at you when he realized the answers he was looking for were still locked up. He pulled you tighter in his arms, holding you close as if uttering a physical apology. I’m sorry for being a dick, but thank you for being so kind to me anyways.

-

Having found warmth in you, and another feeling that cannot be described outside of perhaps the simple word: safety, Logan slept better than he had in weeks, months, even. Hell, he doesn’t know if he’s ever slept like this, waking up naturally, well rested and without a nightmare in sight. 

It was late in the afternoon, and he woke up feeling a sense of peace that he didn’t go to bed with. He’d been settled. His anger and annoyance about the failed objective made his skin crawl when the snow had been pouring down, the storm covering the ground with several inches of a white, fluffy covering. 

Knowing it had been very late in the night when you finally were able to sleep, he didn’t want to wake you, but being wrapped around you like a cocoon while you slept would make it very hard to even sit up without causing you to stir. 

He figured he could wake you up, now, take you back to the motel so you could finish resting while he took a walk, or visited the bar. It had approached his mind the night before, that he would probably go and get wasted at the establishment to try and fill the void that had been left empty by the lack of answers. 

Slowly, he unraveled the twisted limbs and sleeping bags, hearing your soft grumbling of discomfort when you came to. You weren’t fully awake, and your arms grabbed at him, trying to pull him back in subconsciously while your moaning and groaning persisted. He let out a small chuckle at the actions, like that of a child grabbing for the security of its mother. 

“Rise and shine, princess,” He joked, trying to maneuver himself away. 

You finally remembered where you were, and realized that Logan was the source of warmth that had been keeping you so still and secure. 

“Hey,” you let out with a furrowed brow, wiping over your eyes to try and dull the ache of opening them too soon. “What time is it?” 

“Not sure, it might be noon,” he guessed, standing on his feet and beginning to collect everything that was still scattered about on the ground of the tunnel. 

You were silent for a minute, nodding your head and beginning to become more coherent with every minute passed. You soon joined him on collecting things that needed packing away, but did so with a sentiment passed along. 

“I’m sorry we didn’t find anything here,” you murmured quietly. 

He almost had to do a double take… Why were you apologizing? You’d done him a great service by coming here to try and help him, no matter the results. 

“S’not your fault,” he furrowed his brow in response. “I’m sorry for treating you like shit last night. Just because I’m mad doesn’t mean I have to take it out on you.”

“Don’t be sorry. If I was in your place I’d be angry, too.”

The way you looked at him was astonishing. Like he’d hung every star in the sky. You looked at him and he felt like no matter the atrocities he knows he’s capable of, and the memories he can’t reach, he could do no wrong. Nothing he ever did was bad in your eyes. It was an empowering feeling, but also a curious one. You are far greater of a person than he is, and he knows it… so why do you look at him like this?

The answer is simple, you’re in love with him. He’s the first person you can touch, which is a huge factor, but aside from that, he is kind to you, and genuinely, not just because he has to be.

He remembers what Charles told him before he left. Ask her about a man named Charlie…

“I uh…” he trailed, watching you where you sat, packing away your water flask and flashlight. “I had a talk with the professor before we left a few days ago.”

“About what?” 

“About you, mostly. He told me I was in safe hands,” among other things, but he wouldn’t mention that. “And he told me that when you were ready I could ask you about a man…”

“A man?” You raised your brows in surprise. You weren’t sure if you knew what you were supposed to tell him. 

“Yeah, a man… his name was Charlie?” 

He could see it, the instant the name left his lips. Your face fell and your brain had to work overtime to try and return it to something neutral, and less traumatized. Your silence made him think that maybe he crossed a line. If you hadn’t been ready to talk about this man, then he’d just made a huge mistake. He doesn’t know who this fellow is, but he clearly did something to you. 

“Are you alright?” Logan knelt down, interrupting your blank stare. He could see the memories flashing behind your eyes, the thoughts winding up in your head.

“Yes,” you shook out of it, but your smile didn’t come back. “I’ve been around people that know about him for a long time, I didn’t think I’d ever have to retell the story.”

“You don’t have to,” he shook his head, a hand raising to your arm to try and bring comfort. “I assume it’s a sad story?”

“The worst one I know…” you trailed, finally giving a small quirk of your lip in a smile. Looking at Logan for too long made it impossible to scowl forever. “It’s been a hundred and thirty some years just about.”

He whistled long and low, sitting down across from you to fully pay attention. 

“I started working in a farm house in Virginia in the Eighteen Sixties. I kept to myself as best I could, making beds, doing laundry, washing dishes. Best paying job I’d ever had so I stayed as long as I could…” you trailed, taking a deep breath to introduce the main character of this story. “There was a stable boy there, worked the farm for the family for years before he got promoted to caring for the horses. I hadn’t met him until about two months of being there.”

“He’s Charlie?” Logan lifted a brow inquisitively, fully engrossed in the history you were sharing. You nodded your head to confirm. 

“He’s Charlie. He was only nineteen years old…  he was the only person that I’d barely ever talked to that grew fond of me. I didn’t even have to do anything,” you joked, dipping your head and remembering the way it all went back then. “He used to volunteer to help me hang laundry just so we could talk.”

“Classy guy,” Logan teased, watching your face light up with the way you were recalling everything.

“He was, and so gentlemanly… The day he found out about me being what I am, it was a complete accident. Long story short, I killed a chicken. He took the blame for it, and at the end of the day, the family ate it for dinner.”

“He knew about you?” 

“Mhm,” you nodded, another smile spreading. “He didn’t care. He’d never touched me before, and knowing that he never could… he still didn’t care.”

You sighed, the bliss of the memory fading from view when the next part resurfaced. 

“I fell in love with him, and eventually he asked me to marry him. Obviously, I said yes,” you paused for a moment, heaving a sigh as tears backed your eyes. “The day we left for town to get married, there was an accident… Some drunk men with a gun were messing around like assholes, and one thing led to another. They started firing off rounds in our direction, and I knew I could block the bullets, but I hadn’t told Charlie that. He tried to save me, tried to pull me out of the way…”

You couldn’t even finish the sentence, but Logan already knew. 

“You touched him…” he filled in the blank, watching you blink away the tears that started to fall. Your silent and weak nod was heartbreaking, and in under two seconds flat, Logan had his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close to him to feel comforted. He was the only one who could do this, and after hearing your story of a lost love, he knew how much it meant. 

He is grateful to you and owes you a lot. Being your shoulder to cry on is the least he can do in a situation like this, where you seemed like you just needed someone to hold onto. 

“It’s been a long time,” you mumbled, sniffing to try and block more tears from falling. Being in Logan’s embrace made it better. “I thought he was the love of my life… but I’ve lived so much of my life now without him.”

“I’m sorry,” he ran a hand over your hair, tucking your head under his chin. 

“I just wish he'd been something like you…” 

“Something like me?” He asked, unsure of what you could mean. The way you described him, he seemed perfect. A gentleman, a protector, someone who loved you so much that he was willing to go through life without the most basic of relationship necessities. He didn’t feel like he could compare.

“Immune to my mutation.”

Your clarification made him understand, and maybe he shouldn’t have uttered his next words, but he did, fully knowing the answer.

“I’m guessing no one else has been,” he let out, beginning to loosen his hold on you. 

You’d backed away and looked him in the eyes with your teary, puffy red ones. 

“So far, only you.”

“I’m sorry, that sounds lonely.” His embrace didn’t leave, but he dropped your gaze for a moment to try and think about what that must be like. To not only be without that kind of comfort, but to constantly have to avoid it at all costs. 

“S’not so bad anymore. You’re pretty decent company, and you don’t seem to hate being around me... I’d say I lucked out.” You leaned back into his arms, laying your head on his shoulder this time as you took a deep inhale. The scent of him was intoxicating, and the way he was constantly warm felt like an invitation in itself. 

He didn’t move you, or make you go anywhere. He knew that if he’d been stuck here for days that it would have to be endured for your sake. After hearing of the tragedy in your past, he felt you deserved to sit here in silence, safely and securely wrapped in his strong arms.

-

Tags: @ayamenimthiriel l @levislegislation @reidsworld @melsunshine @clairealeehelsing @fries11 @burkayyy @d3ad2you @insanesosciopath @scream4mami @marifilue

[tanoraqui]

you’ve heard of Her Divine Highness Gideon the First, First Daughter of the House of God, and all the compelling, often Fake Dating-laced AUs that might follow. But have you considered...Gideon Jr. Dve, favored daughter of the First, heir of Gideon the First, Saint of Duty?

the timeline diverges at 2 points:

Gideon (ours) inherits her mother’s perfectly normal dark brown eyes

Gideon (lyctor) follows the escape pod to Ninth House, arrives to find Wake’s corpse and living baby, to the bemusement of all the locals is like, “yes, that’s mine” and takes said baby back to the Mithraeum to confess his sins and beg forgiveness

the conversation that follows goes like this:

Gideon 1: I am so sorry, John, I don’t know what came over me, Wake was just...really hot. She’s dead now. But, um, this is our daughter, and I feel duty-bound to raise her, or at least see that she’s raised well - but it’s your call, of course (again, I’m sorry for sleeping with the enemy for over a decade)

JohnGod, vibrating at a frequency known only to necromantic immortals who maybe swallowed a sun or something: N I E C E ? !

Augustine, Mercy, and maybe Cytherea, exchanging frantic eye contact behind the other two’s heads: Is that the baby? / I don’t know! I thought you were keeping track of it! / I don’t know! Can’t you tell!? / Are they keeping it? / What the fuck are we going to do about this?!

So, Gideon (Jr.) grows up in the Mithraeum, which needless to say is a fucking weird place to grow up. 

this au is dependent on the assumption that none of these millennia-old necromancers can identify the thanergic/thalergic weirdness of the biological daughter of God on slight, so, just accept that. Maybe children of lyctors (I refuse to believe there haven’t been any before) are a little Like That anyway? The Conspirators do learn the truth pretty fast, DNA test or something, but they quickly decide that stealing the baby and running for the Ninth is a terrible plan, and G1deon and God have to let her out from underfoot eventually. They’ll wait.

the Ninth had already named her Gideon. Gideon 1 tries to change this, but alas, his terrible immortal friends all think it’s hilarious and call her Gideon Jr, or “Junior” or “Giddy” for short.

Cytherea is undoubtably the Cool Aunt, and also Giddy’s first crush

(neither Mercy nor Augustine want to touch children on account of potential stickiness, ruling them firmly out)

JohnGod makes so many Godfather jokes in a terrible Italian mobster accent, which Giddy then imitates with equal inability to mimic an accent, which either produces something completely unrecognizable as old-Earth Italian mobster OR somehow loops back around to being a perfect impression of Don Corleone

Pyrrha tries to resist the urge to check in, but fails, particularly around bedtime (usually a private father/daughter tucking-in ritual). Giddy, with the uncomfortable insight for a toddler, quickly grasps that Sunglasses Dad is a different persona than Normal Dad. Sunglasses Dad swears her to utmost secrecy about this, and she keeps the oath...almost entirely

she does let it slip to Normal Dad, who...

listen, G1deon has been concealing his mysterious lapses in awareness from God and his fellow lyctors for centuries; he’s not going to stop now. And he MUST have had suspicions about what caused them; he’s not an idiot. But he would, I think, be a responsible father. 

So when 7yo Gideon Jr. lets slip about her interactions with Sunglasses Dad - which she definitely doesn’t realize is a whole different person; she probably thinks it’s a weird character her dad acts as sometimes, like how Uncle God will play pretend as a mobster, pirate, horse, etc. When Gideon Jr. lets slip, Gideon Sr. sits her down with his daughter, gets her to tell him about Sunglasses Dad, and admits that, uh, yeah, sure, it’s a fun game they play together, and still very secret from everyone else...and if ‘Sunglasses Dad’ ever makes her feel scared, or god forbid hurts her, she should run away and find Uncle God and tell him everything immediately. 

(Because he has suspicions, he must have suspicions, especially at this point...but just in case he’s wrong, he’ll confess to this centuries-old secret rather than let any harm befall his daughter. It’s the only right thing to do.)

Some Actual Plot Maybe, IDK?:

when Gideon Jr. is 13, her father finally agrees to enroll her in the Cohort Academy for Gifted Officers-To-Be, or whatever its called. Gideon Sr. has a quiet word with the current head of Second House and Gideon Jr. enrolls incognito, and rolls up to this place with

- sword skills trained since birth with fucking lyctors

- an uncanny ability to survive should-be-deadly wounds

- the social skills of someone who has never spoken with anyone under the age of several millennia

- probably slightly more respect for, like, the concept of authority/order/duty/not being a smartass 24/7 than the canon Gideon we know and love...BUT she has also literally never suffered a consequence in her life, and...you know how Miles Vorkosigan’s insubordination habits are based partly in that for the first 18 years of his life, his commanding officers, essentially, were 2 of the most competent people on Barrayar? God Himself used to give Gideon horsey rides. Gideon might try, politely, to be impressed by the commander-instructor glaring at her personally, but she is...not.

- gay

[insert a full YA novel’s worth of coming-of-age shenanigans here, absolutely ft. Judith Deuteros and Marta Dyas as soon-friends]

AND THEN ONE DAY, JOD SENDS OUT AN INVITATION to the heir of the Nine Houses inviting them to the First...

now, Gideon does not have a single drop of necromantic ability. She never has. So she wants to be a cavalier so bad...

but even Gideon, sword bimbo that she is, couldn’t grow up with The lyctors and not notice that... Well, no one really talks about their cavaliers, except when Mercy and Augustine fight about them. There is a grieving, sucking wound where every lyctoral cavalier should be.

she still tried so hard to be one. Judith very nearly agreed to have her even over <3Marta<3 (whom they were both madly crushing on). Then Gideon had one of her rare meetings with her father (he’d swing by the Cohort Academy sometimes and they’d get lunch), and told him about it all excitedly, and he flatly forbade it. And then he went over her head and flatly forbade it to the Cohort. 

so there’s something Weird going on there, or at least there’s something being unfairly forbidden to Gideon like birds are forbidden to the indoor cat staring out the window, eagerly lashing its tail. 

so she hatches a Plan:

- 1. Stow away on Judith & Marta’s ship to Dominicus - 2. ??? - 3. Profit!

when she sees Cytherea there, she thinks, Oh shit, I’m busted.

fortunately, she’d waited until everyone else had disembarked and gone inside before she snuck off the ship, so Cytherea doesn’t see her. So now it’s up to Gideon to sneak around, make friends with the heirs of the Houses, and recruit them into helping her not get caught by her aunt! Who she assumes is here specifically to catch her out...or maybe to covertly oversee the trials...? Hey what is up with this place anyway?

(It’s fortunate because as soon as Cytherea sees Gideon, she’s going to change her plan to “kill everyone immediately, except Giddy, whom I take to the Ninth and exsanguinate to open that damn tomb.”)

(Unfortunately, once like 5 people have died, Gideon is likely to honorably reveal herself in order to ask Cytherea for help, because CLEARLY something has gone terribly wrong. This can’t really be part of the trials, right? Uncle God wouldn’t do that.)

[meanbossart]

Omg omg Meanboss i saw ur Patreon Post rn aaaaand now i can't stop thinking about how Astarion and Drow would react and grieve, if one of them died. Do u have any thoughts to that?

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh boy. I'm almost reluctant to answer this because I feel like this is absolutely DU drow's ugliest side, LOL.

So let me put off the inevitable and start with Astarion: the unlikely more well-adjusted half when it comes to this - if you can call total desensitization being "well adjusted", at least.

Astarion has led hundreds of people to their deaths after supposedly earning their trust, care and attention - I'm not saying every single one of his outings ended in heart-break, in fact the vast majority were probably completely impersonal one-night stands, but at SOME POINT in Astarion's life he must have held some care for people or at least an aversion to the idea of manipulating them into death's maw - until he had to do it over, and over, and over, and over again.

It's very clear to me that Astarion managed to completely shut his empathy out, as well as his sense of attachment especially in the short-term. Those things still exist within him but are like a weak flame he has to keep feeding with kindling if he wants it to stick around; and it would be far easier to just extinguish it at once. If someone close to him were to die, especially unexpectedly, he'd just stomp it out for good and move on as if nothing had happened, probably unable to form another relationship like it for at the very least a couple of years but otherwise remain perfectly functional, and, by all intends and purposes, have gotten over the loss exceptionally quickly.

Obviously, if we're talking about DU drow's death, this would change over time and depend on how long they remained together for. I can't tell you how 500-year-old Astarion would react to the loss of his loved one (too many variables to consider) but one can expect the concept to become harder to accept the more used he grows to someone's permanence.

Now, the drow. He does not deal well with losing, and that applies to people just as well as it applies to concepts and objects. I think he can wrap his mind around the idea of someone dying of old-age, but anything short of that is akin to being stolen from.

Which brings us to Astarion's immortality, and the false sense of security that that brings DU drow. In his mind, if he is immortal, that simply means he won't ever die. This is, to him, is a certain fact the vast majority of the time,save for the rare and brief occasion where he has to face a different reality. This also means that if Astarion ever dies, that is obviously due to a tremendous failure in DU drow's part.

I simply do not think he would get over it. Much like the scenario with Villain DU drow where Orin's death basically begins the countdown for his own, his ambitions from that point forward would cap at revenge, and done that, he would either become something profoundly ugly or just let himself rot. I think this is just... Something inherit to him and the way he functions, making the former memory loss a blessing in even more ways than it already is.

He'd probably also try to resurrect him, but for all his desperation I can at least tell you that he wouldn't fall for/settle for anything lesser than his beloved with their cognizance fully intact, nor do anything that could destroy their corpse. He, uh, Is gonna need that.

[littybeech]

Ten things the Twilight animated series can do better than the original movies (if they care enough to, please add all your own points to this as I will, too.) :

1. Include ALL of the book scenes, without having to change them to make them easier to film (for obvious reasons, since it’ll be animated they shouldn’t have much issue there.)

2. Their daughter, Remoulade can actually look like the book described her (or better or worse) and not the CGI monstrosity we got twelve years ago.

3. Make all the characters fit their book looks to complete accuracy. Alice was 4’10 and the movies made her 5’5. They let Edward have brown hair when he’s a ginger. Jacob and the wolf pack had better be above 6’5! I want 23 year old Carlisle and 26 year old Esme playing parents to like three legal adults and two 17 year olds.

4. The parentification of Bella Swan, by both of her parents, mustn’t be ignored. Bella was making sure the bills were getting paid by the time she was 10 cause her mom was ‘too flighty and distracted’ to do things like that consistently, she also learned to cook and clean early on too because her mom’s cooking was inedible and she’d improperly mix cleaning solutions dangerously. She got a job at 14 and took care of the groceries and any other issue necessary on top of being in AP classes in school. By the time she moved in with Charlie, she was basically more of a parent than he was. He did the bare minimum to ensure her car’s safety by installing snow chains on her tires without telling her and she cried because she wasn’t used to being taken care of.

5. How she cries when she’s angry is peak girlhood and I hate that they got rid of that in the movies. She stomped her feet bro, like c’mon she was so angry and anxious and annoyed all the time and they only focused on her angst.

6. Integrate aspects of Midnight Sun too, maybe incorporate them both so we can get a more full story. Twilight on its own was a bit of a snooze fest compared to Midnight Sun. We’re gonna pretend that Edward hunting and eating Esme’s abusive ex-husband isn’t hot af?

7. Add in more character’s back stories. Alice’s abusive father and stepmother, Emmett’s gambling and womanizing as a human in Tennessee, etc.

8. Unfortunately we need to make it clear that Charlie’s not winning any father of the year awards here either. He congratulated Jacob after forcing a kiss on her and joked about Jacob pressing assault charges on her after she breaks her hand punching him away.

9. Maybe ask why the Cullens…’need’ so desperately to come back to Forks every couple of years? Like they’re multi-billionaires, they’re immortal and there are plenty of gloomy, cloudy places they could live in semi-permanently. Why Forks when they know the Quileutte tribe knows what they are and they know it makes them so uncomfortable? It just seems unnecessary.

10. More of Edward reading Mike Newton’s inner-monologue. I know it would depend on whose perspective we get but I think the idea is hilarious.

[mrghostrat]

Hello and good morning/day/night :]

I was wondering, in BNF, we’ve gotten tiny little bits of information about the ‘Nice and Accurate Prophecies’ (not sure if that’s the correct title, sorry) book and TV series, if there was anything else you could tell us about it?

Character names, storylines, plots, any fun details you may have made up or otherwise, etc, etc.

I just think it’s sweet how interested both Aziraphale and Crowley are in the series, and if you might be as interested, if not more, in it too.

Thank you, and have a lovely Sunday. 🫶

this is it, my leash has snapped, i'm wild in the streets, thank u for asking; i'm gonna go be insufferable now

(hi @neil-gaiman if you see this, i think it's safe to read, but it does border on being fan fic. i'm writing a fic where crowley and aziraphale are an artist + writer in an online fandom, much like we are for good omens, and this is the fake story i've made for them to be fans of 💛)

The Nice and Accurate Prophecy

info dump of the fake 5 book series by Agnes Nutter (1985-1992) and its fake fandom:

The Nice and Accurate Prophecy

The Strange and Improbable Prophecy

The Vague and Perfidious Prophecy

The Tense and Harrowing Prophecy

The Faint and Ineffable Prophecy

a dramatic, layered story with a bizarre and unexpectedly lovable cast of characters, humour that hits you out of nowhere, and a lot of attitude from the narrator. a la Good Omens, A Series of Unfortunate Events, Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy

fantasy/historical fantasy and mildly action & romance

a la good omens, a witch and a witchfinder become friends and help each other throughout history, despite being on opposite sides. they get closer as they fight against the immoral plays from their prospective sides (the witchfinder army and a demonic cult the witch was born into) that each lose sight of their core values in a bid to hold more power over the world.

the story is set primarily in a medieval fantasy era, but suddenly jumps to the present in the later books, catching everyone off guard and giving a whole new context to enjoy the story. the challenges they face parallel the earlier story but in a modern take with modern technological twists. the modern era is the late 80s, since that's when it was written.

the witch reincarnates, similar to doctor who, due to a high class black magic ritual they performed in their arrogant youth (which they were NOT supposed to have access to). they've had long lifetimes where they die of old age, and others where they've barely managed to live a year. their reincarnations aren't entirely random; they will reincarnate according to their growth and preferences as a person (a la Magical Boy's magical outfit generations), which includes fluctuation in gender identity. their pronouns fluctuate depending on each "face" they wear, but have canonically been a "they" before. the good side of the fandom (crowley & aziraphale) default to they/them as an overall rule. they do have a name, but they like to change that too, so the fandom almost exclusively calls them witch, or witchy.

the witchfinder also has a name, but the fandom have taken to calling him witchfinder to match the fact that witchy is called by their role. it also helps that a lot of the witchfinder narration refers to him by role instead of name. he is human, 30ish in appearance, but at the end of the first book, the witch fears to lose him and curses him with immortality against his knowledge to try and keep him safe.

witch is crowley-coded, witchfinder is aziraphale-coded. my to-do list includes an illustration of the two of them played by michael and david :') but i picture them being kind of like newt and anathema for the most part.

ship names include witch/finder, witchwitch, w² or witch², and witchfound.

at the start of the first book, they meet and become friends without knowing each other is a witch & finder. the witchfinder is a bit bumbly, like newt, and the witch is cool and suave but neurotic and insecure like many human au variations of crowley (major overcompensation vibes). witch is male at the start of the first book. their friendship is secure when witch finds out he's a witchfinder, so there's less "oh my god i'm friends with the enemy, is he going to kill me in my sleep?" and more "ah fuck, Lets Drink About This"

there's battles, horseback riding, camping out in dark woods, disappearing and losing each other for months at a time, and many missed connections as they try to work together against two common enemies, whilst keeping up the facade that they're on their respective team's sides.

there's charged chemistry in the first book, but it's more plot heavy. there's hints of shippy moments in the 2nd book that fall in between the plot. there's a Moment of almost confession in the 3rd book, and a non romantic kiss towards the end (we gotta, for neil). they're pretty much married in the 4th book, securely at each other's side, but never actually talk about it until the end, and there's a more explicitly stated shippy connection in the 5th book.

agnes herself is a total recluse who drops books out of nowhere then goes back to existing somewhere in the english countryside (people presume). she's happy to supply signed copies to fundraisers and conventions, and sometimes random bookshops across the country will be vandalised with genuine autographs on the inside covers. she's notoriously pedantic about being involved with adaptions behind the scenes, but she has no social media and isn't ~around~. she once did a talk when she was presented with an honorary doctorate, and did a single book signing when the first Prophecy book came out, but beyond that she keeps to herself.

there are a small handful of quotes from her in behind-the-scenes footage talking vaguely about character intensions and clarifying world building, but she likes to leave things up to interpretation like neil does. it's in these few snippets of interaction we've seen from her that she's steadfastly supportive of intersectionality and lgbt rights, like staring dead-eyed at an interviewer when they ask her a ridiculously heteronormative question about the characters (like "have you read my books?")

adaptions include:

(most adaptions start like the book, with a male witch at the beginning that turns into a female witch when they first regenerate. the early ones usually change the pacing by switching to a female actor by the time they realise witchfinder is a witchfinder, unlike in the book where he's male for this scene, and there's way less Charged™ chemistry between the m/m witch/finder.)

Feature Film: late 90s, kind of cheesy, but good spirited fantasy (a la Indiana Jones). focuses on the first book alone, with hints to a sequel that never happened.

Abandoned TV Pilot: early 2000s, a little too dramatic but still a good time (a la the Dungeons and Dragons 2000, ASOUE 2004). good source of gifs and Moments™ but the fandom is generally Fine with it being abandoned.

Stage Performance: late 2000s-early 2010s, a stellar stage adaption of the first book with elements of the 90s movie. f/m witch/finder the whole way through. one cast used m/m actors but it was a short run and only a handful of fans were lucky enough to catch or remember it. crowley would give his left arm (or someone's, anyway) to have experienced it, so a fan sent him some flip phone camera footage of it that he keeps on a harddrive in his safe.

HBO Streaming Series: late 2010s-present, high quality, highly revered, resurged the fandom's popularity and spread the series further overseas. made in america, but doesn't try to americanise the series. extremely respectful to the books, with easter eggs to the film, and is working its way through the entire book series (a la The Witcher netflix series). f/m witch/finder, but has had one episode that included some flash backs/montages of different witch faces. probably like 15 minutes total screentime of a male witch played by a ncuti gatwa level/style of actor, which the fandom has giffed, edited, and screencapped to oblivion.

Several bonus books: Agnes has written a few extra books (a la The Unauthorized Autobiography of Lemony Snicket and The Beatrice Letters), as well as curated some anthologies from other authors (a la A Study In Sherlock). there are a total of 3 anthologies so far, in which other authors have written stories about the characters in their own tellings. basically like canonised, published fan fiction, curated and authorised by agnes herself. There's also an unfinished graphic novel that retells the book series (a la The Adventure Zone comic), but has been WIP/unheard of since the 3rd book.

[anarchy-and-piglins]

We know CC techno is basically an SCP at this point. Like I can vaguely recall his face, kinda. That got me thinking of actual SCP techno. Maybe he’s the host to a parasitic SCP (blood god) or maybe there are two of them combined (him + blood god) or maybe just him. Something that makes him only vaguely memorable. There was a young man covered in blood at the bus stop.

What did he look like? Hmm, couldn’t tell you. I think he said something at some point. What was he wearing? I don’t know, but he was wearing something.

The SCP foundation is looking for this creature that causes security cameras to fizz and leaves trails of blood that match no known dna. They don’t even know if it’s human. No one can catch this anomaly. Dr. Phil of the Foundation is put on the case. Meanwhile, he takes the new intern, whose name he can’t quite seem to remember (it was tech something right? It was an odd name certainly. Dr. Phil’s degree in ancient history told him it was in old one.) is helping him track the Scp down. The new intern is weird, admittedly, but Dr. Phil’s other inter, Ranboo is also very odd, so he’s a veteran that this kind of thing.

Also, he keeps finding odd bloop stains on the new interns clothes. Concerning, but best not to ask too many questions at the Foundation.

I like the idea of the Blood God being an SCP with parasitic tendencies and Techno being the guy who it attaches itself to. Since it's in line with my dsmp headcanons (ie. Techno himself not being the Blood God but merely a conduit).

The Blood God would be SCP-(insert random number) and Techno is designated by the foundation as SCP-(insert same random number)-A. Though, aside from the parasitic god, he's literally just some guy. He gets taken into custody by the foundation both for his own safety and that of others.

When containment procedures are met, interacting with Techno is not dangerous and actually pretty chill. On the contrary, the Blood God gets agitated when its host is agitated, so keeping Techno safe and sound is actually paramount. He has a bed, gets fed well, and the head scientist (a Dr. Philza Craft) is free to interact with him to offer companionship, sometimes letting his interns interact with Techno also.

Containment procedures are pretty simple:

No blood should ever be within 15 feet of Techno, unless he spilled it himself. This includes blood samples or dried blood.

A bell must be provided for Techno to ring every few hours.

Once a month, Techno must spill blood as a sacrifice to the Blood God. Animals suffice, but humans are better. The amount of blood needed to sate the Blood God can be variable and depends on how agitated it is.

Strategy games such as risk, chess, competitive video games, etc should be provided. Games that Techno can 'win' in seem to keep the Blood God calm for longer and lower the amount of blood needed for a sacrifice.

Techno is functionally immortal (doesn't age and seems incapable of bleeding out, despite feeling the pain of any inflicted wound). Attacking him or trying to harm him usually ends terribly for the attacker. They did a lot of tests at first - also to figure out the containment procedures. But Dr. Philza currently doesn't allow tests anymore, they were both too distressing for Techno and too costly in Class-D subjects.

Killing Techno would be possible, but since the Blood God would just attach itself to another mortal, it's more interesting for the foundation to keep Techno locked up.

[panoffrying]

My Dr. Sozonius LORE Headcanons

✨Warning this is a bit long✨

Sozo is a character that has lived for a very long time. Whatever that mushroom was on their head not only influenced Sozo but kept them immortal. We know really nothing bout Sozos past so I made some headcanons for silly fun and for me to visualize who Sozo was and what his life may have looked like. I want to do my best to keep this as game accurate as possible, so there will be quotes from the game. The quotes are not at all in order! I kinda just bring up random Sozo quotes as I go. Also I apologize if this doesn't make sense or if I ramble (I get excited about certain topics) 

thank you so much @7moonbird for going over and editing this for me, Love ya Pookie!

And so we start:

Sozonius was born in the days of the old faith. He was present the day the Bishops declared the genocide of the lambs and he actually played a big part in assisting the lambs survival. However, he almost got caught and had to stop helping the lambs to keep his family safe. He's never seen any of the bishops(maybe) but his village was part of Darkwood and therefore under Bishop Leshy’s ruling.

VILLAGE 

Sozonius village was mostly a colony of Carpenter Ants, there were a few other species living there too but it was mostly Carpenter Ants. I imagine there are different races of ants depending on the region they’re in; so there could be fire ants, pharaoh ants, and more! Most ants get along nicely and work together but sometimes other races of ants can be more temperamental and cause conflict between colonies. Carpenter ants are a more calm type of ants, they aren't aggressive but they are incredibly strong. Carpenters ants are known to live in trees; they hollow out trees to make their homes and they like to stay off the ground as much as possible in case of floods and other dangers.

In the colony they had their ruler, the “Queen,” who looked over the village and did queenly business (not gonna go too deep into it). Everyone had many different jobs, ants are hard workers and very strong. They made marvelous structures, farmed a lot of crops, and knew how to work together when there was a threat. Sozo’s village was one that many others would try making deals/trades with. I would talk more about his village but that's not why y’all are here lol. 

Sozonius was a fellow damn near everyone in the village knew. He loved his work and he loved to talk about it to anyone that expressed that they wanted to listen. He was that guy that you could get stuck in a conversation with and struggle to end it. He liked to ramble about his work and kids. Other than that though he never really started conversations with others, he would keep to himself unless someone interacted with him.

And I could definitely see him having a science rival but nothing too bad lol.

FAMILY

“Where am I…? Where is… my family…?”  are the words Sozo says when he turns back into Dr. Sozonius. I like to think he had a wife and two children. They didn’t have the best marriage but they made it work out for their two sons. His wife was a bit stubborn and very honest. She would say things before thinking which did cause issues, but Sozonius let it slide because he loved her so much and wanted a happy family for his sons. 

Sozonius was a very funny dude. He made dad jokes all the damn time, his family would pretend to hate the jokes but in reality they did love them. 

Sozo Dialogue “Now all Sozo can think about is mushrooms, mushrooms, MUSHROOMS… They don’t leave mush-room for anything else! Ha!”

(Also, this next idea is inspired off of @kuphulwho headcanons for Sozo. I loved her ideas and I recommend y'all look at her headcanons too!) Aside from Sozonius being a mycologist he had a side hobby of art! He wasn't the best artist, but he was really talented with sketching plants/fungi, he liked to make art of anything that interested him. He most likely wrote an educational picture book about Fungi, there's probably an old copy of it somewhere.

This art hobby caught the interest of his two sons, and they also started to pursue art. Sozonius would take his free time teaching his sons how to draw plants and such. Sozonius would hang his kids' art everywhere in their house, it was like walking into an art museum haha.

JOB

Sozonius studied mycology which means he studied fungi. Sozonius knew fungi could benefit his society and he wanted to help educate others about the importance of fungi. Soon he learned enough of a new discovery of mushroom people, neither plant nor animal…Sozonius then made the decision to go on a solo mission to study the Mushroomo people.

THE MUSHROOMOS 

Dr. Sozonius Dialogue “My name is Dr. Sozonius. I was researching the Mushroomos that live in Spore Grotto… strange creatures, Neither animal nor plant…” 

Sozonius went to Spore Grotto and at first, he studied the Mushroomo people from a distance setting up a campsite near the Mushroomo Village. When the Mushroomo people discovered Sozonius they welcomed him into their home, cheerful happy little things. Sozonius was given the chance to learn more about these strange creatures up close! How could he say no? Sozonius was welcomed into Spore Grotto and was treated like a god. 

Sozonius asked the Mushroomos many questions, but getting any actual answers from them was difficult. The Mushroomos treated Sozonius like he was their most special guest, they danced and sang for Sozonius. They would mimic Sozonius and follow him around, making sure to do anything he asked of them. There would be many times when the Mushroomos would offer to feed Sozonius menticide mushrooms but Sozonius knew a lot about fungi and declined their offers. However, there seemed to be a special Ritual the Mushroomos took part in… 

Sozonius had been in Spore Grotto for many weeks now, it was time for him to leave, he had studied enough and was ready to return home but the Mushroomos were surprisingly sad when he announced this. They wanted to show Sozonius a sacred ritual to them before he left, he wasn't aware of the menticide mushrooms being part of it…

Dr. Sozonius Dialogue “They gave me Menticide Mushrooms, and then… that’s the last thing I remember…”

After Sozonius was tricked into eating menticide mushrooms and also gave Sozonius a crown, a crown that would grow into Sozoniuss mind, he shall be the Mushroomos leader… And the new Sozo was made. (literally just think of Ice Age 2 when the lil sloths take Sid to be their fire king, however they don't sacrifice him)

The mushroom on Sozos head is very powerful, it makes me wonder what it is exactly, it gives the person wearing it immortality, but also causes the user to go insane (don't forget that Sozo is also being fed menticide mushrooms) the mushroom crown kinda reminds me of Chemachs crown. It seems to have a mind of its own and a face. I feel like the Mushroomos for days straight made sure to give Sozo a diet of only menticide mushrooms to make him forget everything and to possibly power the mushroom crown. They would constantly tell Sozo that his mind would be open and free, that it would make him feel better, and Sozo being under the influence of the mushroom listened to them.

A Mushroomo Dialogue "Once you taste the Menticide Mushroom your mind will be opened." 

As the years went by so did all the sanity Sozonius had left, but in some moments Sozonius seems to still be aware but not all there. 

Sozo Dialogue “Sozo had friends... Followers... family... now Sozo has mushrooms..."

Sozo over time seems to start to dislike his followers and call them liars. He even becomes quite cruel to his followers. Yet he also mentions that he trusts the lamb and wants the lamb to protect him from his followers which makes me believe that Sozonius is somehow a little aware and fighting against the mushroom crown’s influence. He is mad at the Mushroomos for lying to him, tricking him, making him into who he is now.

 Sozo Dialogue  “No need to thanks Sozo. Build it at your Cult then come back to me. Sozo shall grant you one last gift. Sozo is always fair. Always repays this debts. Not like those LIARS out there."

"You did it! Now I know I can trust you... not like those nasty liars outside. They are always watching, always listening! Here take this. You are Sozo's best friend, you are Sozo's only friend."

"Sozo can trust you now, Sozo will pledge himself to you! You will protect me from those liars outside and bring Sozo mushrooms!"

(Also a side note that my gf brought to my attention last second lol! Apparently parasitic mushrooms rely on insects to spread. That is probably why they tricked Sozonius into staying and eating menticide mushrooms. Maybe it's been that long since they've seen an insect)

SOZOS IMPRISONMENT

So, this next little headcanon of mine is an interesting one and might be confusing to explain. Was Sozonius imprisoned within his own mind while under the control of the mushroom crown? If he was, I can see him being stuck in a sort of loop, imagining his family and friends. Think like Mabel's Bubble from ‘Gravity Falls’ weirdmageddon. Sozonius is trapped in a mental bubble, stuck in a false reality as the now mushroom-infected Sozo takes over his body and actions. 

In Sozonius’s mental bubble he is in a place where trees are big, tall mushrooms and flowers are mushrooms, everywhere he turns its mushrooms. He knows something is wrong, everything is too strange, everyone he loves is there with him but is it real? It feels like he's living in a dream. Sozonius proceeds to talk to his friends and family as if they are actually there in which I noticed that Sozo will talk to the menticide mushrooms as if they are actual people.

Sozo Dialogue “Precious, perfect little mushrooms, Sozo is here now, Sozo will always be here…”

”Sozo is busy now… Sozo must commune with the ‘shrooms.”

As time passes more mushrooms grow in his mind prison, and they keep growing and growing until they start to grow on the people he loves. He knows something is happening, he's going mad, and he starts to search for an exit, he needs to escape this false reality that the mushroom crown has created for him. 

He starts fighting the mushroom crown’s hold on him which causes him to regain some awareness. This is when a part of him realizes he’s been tricked, and he starts refusing everything the Mushroomos give him and becomes cruel to them. However, the lambs have never done him wrong before and the lamb (from the cult) begins to be the only person he can trust. At least until it becomes too much and well… we know Sozo’s fate.

SOZO’S REVIVAL 

So Sozo doesn't get resurrected until all the bishops become mortal (at least in my playthrough)(I might change this to he was part of the cult before the bishops I’m not sure). So all the bishop siblings are in the cult and learning the ways of mortal stuff and Sozo appears around the same time, still the crazy Sozo we know and love. However, he’s still very addicted to the menticide mushrooms and both the Lamb and night workers have found Sozo digging through the mushroom crops like a lil racoon.

Based on the game, Sozo likes to run around the cult and do his own thing; he often looks very spaced out but the moment someone talks to him he starts spitting nonsense before yelling at them to go away. The only people Sozo will talk to are people that give Sozo what he wants, which is menticide mushrooms! If you do that for him he will talk your ear off with nonsense, in conversations with him he will often talk about his followers, them being liars and disgusting little creatures. One day though Sozo’s personality seems to change? He starts to tell the lamb,

 “Sozo was just here, all alone, thinking about mushrooms... Uh, Sozo means Sozo's little Mushroomo followers!”

”Yes,, they must be so lost without Sozo. They love Sozo! Everyone loves Sozo - especially Lamb!”

“Without their great and beloved Sozo, Mushroomos must be so scared... YOU! You must save them! Save them and bring them to Sozo.”

”They will be trapped in Anura. They are always getting captured when they don't have their great Sozo to protect them. Rescue them and bring them to me.”

But when you bring the followers to Sozo he ends up eating them. At first glance you can assume it's just his addiction, in which it most certainly could be! He sees a big mushroom and he's like oooo~ delicious but there's also a possibility of this being Dr. Sozonius’s anger coming out. The whole fighting against the mushroom crown’s influence and realization that he’s been tricked. Maybe a mix of his addiction and anger for what they did to him? I’m not too sure if Sozo eating the Mushroomos was a problem before he joined the cult.

Of course, this addiction must be stopped so the lamb decides enough is enough and refuses to get more Mushroomos. This causes Sozo to dissent and, with little choice, the Lamb has to put him in rehab. I imagine it would’ve been a struggle getting Sozo to the prison without the Red Crown’s help. With the power of an ant that is Sozo’s size it's a miracle he didnt break that pillory while he was in it. Sozo just stayed silent and didn't fight; the person he had put his trust and hope in has imprisoned him. Sozo is a bit depressed at that moment. 

After Sozo has been re-educated, released, and cured of his addiction the mushroom crown finally falls off his head. Which, like I said before, makes me wonder, was it being powered by the menticide mushrooms Sozo has been eating or is it something else?

But Dr. Sozonius talks about some stuff before saying,

Dr. Sozonius Dialogue “I can’t help but feel that I have you to thank for… something. You have my loyalty, I will remain here and serve you. Please, take this!”

Sozonius was ready to live his life rather than reunite with his family in the afterlife. He wasn't expecting to be resurrected after dying in the cult from old age. But Sozonius gave the lamb their loyalty and promised to stay in the cult and serve them. The Lamb had been so kind as to give Sozonius an immortality necklace, the Lamb didn’t want Sozonius to go yet… and Sozo’s heart was too kind and soft. He will have to wait a bit longer to return home to his family, but maybe some good things will come out of staying longer~

Also! Who do we think Sozo was talking to? 

A Mushroomo Dialogue "Who is Sozo talking to when he whispers in the dark...?"

Is he talking to himself? The mushrooms? Or the Fox?

[dunmeshistash]

Thinking about the immortality curse applying to all dungeons thing after the melini dungeon being heavily to be unique for it and then being retconned to "all dungeons have the immortality curse" I had the idea that dungeons haven't always had this feature until thistle built the golden country dungeon and the lion realised that was a super convenient way to farm more desires and proceeded to apply it to all other dungeons created from then on. I also like to think Melini is where the curse of immortality is at its strongest. If you can't find and fix the body you can revive it anywhere in the Melini dungeon no matter how long it's been because death is forbidden in thistle's domain but in other dungeons your soul can pass on if your party doesn't get to you soon enough(depending on the dungeon)

That's an interesting theory! I can't get screenshots right now but I remember Delgal not really being aware of dungeons when they first encountered it, only thistle, so perhaps they were way less common 1000 years ago? (As in very few had been found)

There's a time limite on The Island too but it seems to have more to do with how long until the body decomposes too much to stay attached to the soul (or is consumed/burnt etc)

My theory still is that the curse on the citizens is different from the general one that affects adventurers just because they never grow old or die from natural causes either

[cosmerelists]

What Happens When You Read Stormlight Archive first...

Personally, I ignored all of the “reading order” advice and chose Way of Kings as my very first Sanderson book. No regrets, to be honest! But from personal experience, here is what happens when your first stop in the Cosmere is the Stormlight Archive.

[Spoilers for Mistborn & Stormlight Archive & Warbreaker]

1. You don’t know who Hoid is

At first, Wit was just another character to me. Then the hints that he was, like, immortal or super old or some sort of god kept piling up. When Dalinar asked Wit if he was a Herald, I thought, “Ah ha! I was right!”

I was not right.

2. You don’t recognize any Worldhoppers

Zahel was just a grumpy guy who could do weird things with laundry. Azure was cool but I didn’t understand why she just sort of left the plot at one point. When people were called “oddly short” by Roshar standards, it meant nothing to me.

3. You don’t recognize non-Roshar magic

Seriously, that laundry scene with Zahel made NO SENSE to me. And when Hoid used non-Roshar powers, I just figured it was, like, some sort of bard thing.

4. You get very impatient with the interludes

I didn’t want my world to be expanded or to understand the nuances of spren or fabrials. I just wanted to get back to Kaladin! I remember being completely baffled by that one interlude where three men I didn’t know where looking for some dude with white hair and a narrow face. 

It was definitely only on a reread that I appreciated them. 

5. The big reveals are lost on you at first

When Szeth’s sword asked if he wanted to destroy some evil today, I thought, “Huh! Neat!” When Ialai namedropped Scadrial, I thought it was probably a person. And when Thaidakar was revealed as the Lord of Scars, I don’t think I even noticed really? I was too busy weeping as I tried to remember the difference between Thaidakar and Restares. 

6. You buy into the Shallan-Adolin-Kaladin love triangle

Honestly, I wasn’t sure which way it would turn out! Would Shallan leave Adolin for Kaladin? It felt so plausible! I had not yet learned the ironclad rule that all arranged marriages in a Sanderson book will be successful. By the time I got to Warbreaker, I was like, “Oh, Siri is being married against her will to the evil, tyrannical god-king? I guess they’ll get along!” And I was right.

7. The magic system feels like so much

I was hanging on by a thread trying to keep straight Surgebinding and Honorblades and Shardblades and whatever Hoid had going on. Not to mention fabrials. By the time I got to Mistborn, it was like, “Three completely independent magic systems that depend on their own rules and can interact? Yeah! I can handle that!”

8. You want to read them all

For me, starting with Stormlight Archive was best! I loved it so much that I was suddenly wanting to read everything Sanderson wrote. Plus, the backwards reveals were pretty fun. Oh, you’re dead, are you, Kelsier? That’s not what Book 4 of Stormlight says...

And hey! Crazy how the King’s Wit keeps showing up!

[limeinaltime]

Made an updated ref sheet for Aster since I hated her old one and her lore's changed a lot since then.

Some notes on her under the cut

Her eyes would've stayed a dark brown until she was 20 if she hadn't experienced her first "death" at 19.

The lore about her parents hasn't changed, they still suck and treated her horribly and were in on Urbanshade's plans for her.

The community she grew up in only treated her well when they wanted her blood, but their abuse and ostracizing led to her ability kicking and and causing people to die. She stopped giving blood altogether after a very traumatic experience.

Aster was one of the nine casualties that Sebastian was blamed for, and she was also the one who turned in the evidence proving his innocence.

SebAster college romance still canon babeyyyy. He vaguely knew she was not entirely human but both didn't care and didn't think about it too much since Aster's just weird anyway lol.

Had anomalous traits long before Urbanshade, they became more prominent once she turned 20. Her tail came in during her time in the Blacksite.

Aster's anomaly was initially intended to be solely passive and for healing (none of the previous Z-777 instances were fighters aside from Z-777-1), but Aster was given a natural ability to fight. She came out of the womb knowing how to kill, but her kind natures combats that... sort of.

Her organs and blood do still kill people if taken from her through force or violence.

Every time she dies, a crystal comes out of her body, usually her stomach or chest. Its properties are unknown, although Mr. Shade claims the crystals can be used to bring back the dead if Aster becomes powerful enough, hence why the experiments are so brutal. Every death makes her stronger, after all.

Basically if V1 was a woman and a human and could heal with her blood as well.

She can still kill people if they took her biomass through force or cruelty. The effects vary but are always lethal. Woe, instant appendicitis be upon ye.

She gives off warmth and comfort when she touches people she trusts thanks to the nature of her anomaly. Best way to describe it is like comforting nostalgia for something in your past that made you feel safe.

Not much of a brawler, but she is very fast and agile and her kicks and bite pack a punch. Quiet a few employees are missing fingers or even whole hands because of her.

The tentacles on her back basically function like the Tokyo Ghoul kagunes and retract into her back when not in use. The thickness and length depend on what she's using them for and are very flexible and strong.

Absolutely shines with firearms due to her own upbringing. She can use the ferryman tokens to ricochet bullets off them since she doesn't really need them to come back from the dead.

Aster can't give people immortality no matter how powerful her anomalous properties get. She could bring someone back from the razor's edge of death, but once someone is dead, it's beyond her power to save them.

"The Huntress" is her true title, "The Cure" would've been her official title if she wasn't a weapon of the divine.

"Laika" is basically a deadname, don't call her that.

[katieaki]

So, you’re interested in jumping into Pony Express but aren’t sure where to start/feel daunted by the undertaking/are freaked out about missing lore & context? Pony Express is intended to be a completely standalone work with no knowledge of my prior work necessary for enjoyment, but it has been rolling for quite a while now! Here’s some info to help you orient yourself! 💫 I recommend looking at this guide on desktop as the mobile version collapses the bullet points in a strange way.

✨ Here’s the absolute most basic summary:

Lou Primrose (30 years old, 5'0", illiterate, hardworking, 3x rodeo champion) is a rider for the Pony Express, the Wasteland's mail service. Lou has agreed to transport an unusual package from the middle of the Wasteland to the nearly uninhabited coast: a glamorous redhead named Holliday Bell. A case of mistaken identity sees Lou brutalized and disabled by religious assassin from the church of Johnny Knives (god of death) Reckoning "Artie" Tehachapi, who attempts to atone for her wrongdoing by serving Lou until she's healed. Together (for better or worse) the three of them head toward the ocean through unknown and dangerous territory.

This work is erotic in nature 🔞 with some violence and survival-type gore.

✨ If you’re totally new here, you might have some questions. Here’s a super quick primer under the cut!

What’s up with The Wasteland?

The Wasteland is a post-apocalyptic, non-dystopian society in the former American southwest. It has been several generations since the civilization Before (that’s us, or maybe like... our grandparents) was decimated. Nobody is particularly interested in the whys or hows of the collapse, though it seems that environmental disaster & earthquakes were the main factor.

It’s a series of towns, shrines, convents, and monasteries. Quite a lot of it is in repurposed buildings from Before (imagine Route 66-style gas stations, diners, and motels, all heavily repaired) and some of it is kind of ramshackle old-west-y new builds.

God of Death, religious assassins, churches– what’s up with all that? I’m afraid, sounds lore-y.

Wasteland society is heavily structured around the two churches of the gods of life & sorrow (The Listening Lady) and death & justice (Johnny Knives), who are married, immortal, and absolutely real. They live apart from the mortals, but they do live in the Wasteland with them. The Listening Lady’s church is responsible for basically every aspect of Wasteland life. Listening Church shrines and convents are also the Wasteland’s official or de facto orphanages, pantries, farms, hospitals, therapists, inns, textile mills, wedding venues, and basically everything else you need to keep a society functioning. Listening Church acolytes may have a huge variety of occupations, from the extremely down-to-earth (midwifery and laundry etc) to the real Weird and Churchy (doing rituals and divination etc). Many of them take a vow of silence in honor of The Listening Lady. The church of Johnny Knives is much smaller and much more specialized. Knife Church disciples are assassins whose sacred duty is to kill those who need killing, as judged by god. 

You don’t really need to get INTO this, though. What you need to know is: Listening Church acolytes are generally warm and kind and in caregiver- or artisan-type roles. Knife Church disciples are peacekeepers & generally a little scary, but are also working toward the public good– kind, but not necessarily nice.

I know the concept of gods and disciples invokes the image of like, robes and shit, but that is NOT how it is! Listening Church acolytes tend toward chiffon and midcentury-lingerie-as-outwear looks and/or country western workwear, depending. Knife Church disciples nearly invariably have sort of a greaser/biker/leather daddy thing going on. They all talk about the gods like they’re their parents and their bosses, which they are. I think it’s kind of more normal than you might be expecting. 

So there’s like, magic?

According to the Wastelanders, yes. You don’t need to worry too much about any of that. Just let them do their things.

And everyone is in a church?

Almost everyone interacts with Listening Church in some way, very few interact with Knife Church in any way, but most people in the Wasteland are ‘civilians’ (that is to say, not working for either church).

And they’re all lesbians? How do they have babies??

They’re not ALL lesbians, but basically all our POV characters are & it’s a very lesbian-heavy society. There are many ways that two women may have children, including biological. You got this, I know you do. 

And everyone is blue?

Yeah, but it doesn’t really come up.

Why?

Because I liked drawing them with the sky blue posca paint marker when I began this body of work.

Ok. What’s up with Lou?

Louetta “Lou” Primrose is a rider for the Pony Express– she’s a Wasteland mailman. Her job is basically her whole life. She’s been working since she was ten years old, working for the Pony Express since she was 14. After receiving a romantic rejection from Venus, the dance hall girl she’s in love with, Lou agrees to take a strange red-headed woman, Holliday Bell, to the (allegedly) uninhabited coast, where Holliday’s wife is (allegedly) waiting for her.

Lou is dedicated, practical, and hard-working, but also hot-headed, frequently mean, a little self-conscious, and ‘a rambling man,’ never in one place for long. She’s markedly not religious among other Wastelanders (so is a great pov character for you if you’re new to al this!). Her greatest achievement has been winning the main event at the Wasteland’s biggest horse games three years in a row, unseating the previous champion. Nobody else really cares that much.

What’s up with Holliday?

Holliday Bell is an elegant and mysterious woman who showed up to Lou’s post office with stamps pinned to her blouse, claiming she’d mailed herself there from a town hundreds of miles away. She is asking Lou, who works at the most westerly post office in Wasteland, to finish the delivery by bringing her way out to the coast where she claims her wife, a pearl diver, is waiting for her. 

Holliday is strange. From the beginning, Lou feels put off by her personality, which is both abrasive and seemingly rehearsed. She can be unspeakably cutting and is obviously hiding a big secret. 

What’s up with Artie?

Reckoning “RT” “Artie” Tehachapi is the Knife Church disciple who, after a series of lies and miscommunications spanning several parties across the Wasteland, is sent to apprehend Lou, who she thinks has kidnapped Holliday. She breaks Lou’s wrist and dislocates her shoulder in their first altercation before she learns that Lou is an innocent party in all of this. Deeply ashamed of her actions, she vows to serve Lou until they make it back to civilization.

Artie is upbeat and optimistic, especially for Knife Church, but her guilt at her transgressions against Lou & eagerness to make up for them have left her in a kind of anxiety spiral.  She’s the only one who has any real survival skills and continually works herself to the last drop, and then works herself a few drops more. When her big, horrible, deep, dark secret is revealed, her mental state continues to deteriorate.

What’s up with Venus? We haven’t seen her in a while?/Who’s the one-armed smokeshow?

Venus is Lou’s love interest, the girl she left behind in Hereafter. We haven’t seen her in a while because she, wisely, stayed there while Lou went off on her extremely inadvisable mission.

Venus of the Wastes is a dime-a-dance girl/saloon girl/sex worker who lives in Hereafter. She is Lou’s friend and Lou is both in love with her and her best client. Just before Lou left to deliver Holliday, she admitted to Venus that she was in love with her. Venus is, at least, very fond of Lou.

✨ Ok, but this is a lot! Where do I start??

If you’re looking to hop in on the story in progress, I’ve made summaries of part 1 , part 2 , and part 3 as we have gone on. I’ll update this with part 4 when we finish it. 

If you’re a completionist, the links above have epub & pdf files of the full text of each part. Here’s where part 4 begins, until we finish that part and I post it all together. You can find the rest of part 4 by scrolling backwards through the collection. I will also attach pdfs & epubs of all the full text to this post on my patreon!

If you’re a completionist completionist & you want it ALL, here’s everything and the chronological order in which they occur in-universe. Again, Pony Express is meant to be able to stand on its own two feet without any of the rest of this, but it might be fun for you to read the rest. The first three here are kind of a series, but Tears Can’t Put Out This Flame and Bloodied on Arrival could both be read independently. Care and Keeping probably needs those two to support it, unless you’re happy just jumping in and figuring stuff out via context. It’s Artie’s backstory, but it’s not necessary for you to read to make Pony Express make sense. It’ll just give you a little more dramatic irony etc. 

Tears Can’t Put Out This Flame  - a novella about Hero Sasaki, a novice acolyte at the Church of the Listening Lady (god of life & sorrow) who has been tasked with delivering a package to an anchorite from her church. Frances is a disgraced assassin from The Church of Johnny Knives (god of justice & death) who has been tasked with escorting her. Through trials of the road, emergency first aid, prayer, ritual (blood and otherwise), a little sex, and a lot of tears, they find love exactly where they should've expected it in the first place.

Bloodied on Arrival - a novel about Nuisance (and Hero), a road-weary assassin from The Church of Johnny Knives (god of justice & death) who finds herself and her new cat taking refuge at a companionship shrine run by a beautiful older widow, Hero, of the Church of the Listening Lady (god of life and sorrow). The two can't deny their immediate connection and aim for a rewarding one-night stand, but things don't go as planned.

Care and Keeping - a work in progress novel(?) about Hero and Nuisance and their new adopted feral child, Artie, a little girl who has known nothing but abuse, pain, and starvation who believes it’s her sacred mission to join Knife Church. Nuisance agrees to train her to join the church in a bid to keep her from it for as long as possible. This is a kind of coming-of-age story for Artie and a becoming parents story for Hero & Nuisance.

Pony Express - A work in progress novel about Lou (also featuring Artie) - see synopsis at beginning of post.

The novel/las are available for purchase on my Patreon for $5 or for pay-what-you-want $5+ on Gumroad. If you find you can’t afford that, but want to read it, please let me know! DM me wherever or email me at missluckycatknives (at) gmail (dot) com I’m happy to make my work accessible to you. All Pony Express and Care and Keeping are free as I work on them.