#Quicksilver (All Appearances)

[scarlet--wiccan]

So, I'm not the first person to bring this up, but I did some reading this morning and I'm pretty sure that the mysterious silhouette from the Scarlet Witch & Quicksilver preview is the Griever, from Fantastic Four (2018).

The Griever is an abstract entity, who is presented as part of a trinity alongside Eternity and the Never Queen. She represents entropy and, more specifically, the inevitable end of the multiverse. In Fantastic Four, she appears to have a vendetta against Franklin for creating a bunch of new realities, thus countermanding her purpose. Once Franklin's powers are restored and the Griever is able to resume her post without interference, she's a lot more benign.

Orlando describes the mysterious big bad of SW&Q as "one of the most powerful climactic forces in the Marvel universe," whose power "touches all of creation" and who, apparantly, feels threatened by the twins being stronger and closer than ever before. The Griever certainly fits those descriptions, and if she's threatened by Franklin Richards, I can certainly imagine her feeling threatened by Wanda Maximoff at the top of her game.

[chaoticjjcakes]

Ok, so I’m gonna go on a little rant on here.

I’m a marvel comics fan, my favorite comics were the young avengers comics and absolutely loved the dynamics between the characters. I particularly loved Tommy Shepherd, also known as Speed. Out of the entire lineup of Young Avengers, I somehow saw a piece of myself within his character. But his treatment in Marvel Comics definitely leaves something to be desired. Especially with the whole thinkfast breakup which is is my last straw.

First of all, the writers reasoning for breaking breaking Tommy and David up is ABSOLUTE HORSESHIT! Tommy has no connections to the x-men, no connections to Krakoa, ITS NOT EVEN CONFIRMED IF HE AND BILLY ARE MUTANTS OR NOT! (Which is a whole other ballgame I don’t wanna get into) Their reasoning is flimsy at best and bullshit at worst because of this, and it gets even worse when you introduce a new love interest so soon after they break up OFF PANEL with a seemingly insulting dig at Tommy within the comic.

Second of all, I’m worried how this will affect Tommy’s appearances in comics. The last time we saw him was the scarlet witch and quicksilver miniseries. He barely, if ever gets any appearances anymore and the ones he does show up in, he was with David (Which is probably why the writer thought Tommy was an X-men connection). Tommy is frequently left out of major story arcs and team-ups, leading to me feeling that he is somehow forgotten by the writers and creators at Marvel. While Tommy has been a part of the Young Avengers, he is often overshadowed by other more prominent characters like Kate Bishop, America Chavez, Cassie Lang who’s with Antman, Noh-Varr whos with the guardians of the galaxy, his mother, his uncle, even his own twin brother! He’s often underutilized as well and when he is there, he’s just the goofier version of quicksilver.

Third, we barely get any sense of actual character from him and in moments we do it’s just immediately dropped. First example: scarlet witch and quicksilver #3, where he actively mentioned Davids supposed death (cuz he definitely didn’t know that David was actually alive? I’m kinda confused about this?) and he seemed to be kinda disassociated from with stating he wasn’t there until Pietro snapped him out of it. This isn’t the first time someone has died and Tommy wasn’t there. He finds his mom’s dead body before Trial of Magneto and later in issue 1, seems disassociated when talking with Kevin. In the infinity comics, he states that people always forget about him. I see that he probably often finds himself overlooked and underutilized within the vast universe of superheroes.

Just to headcanon with fact: It’s somewhat implied he may have been neglected. I mean we barely know anything about his life before except that his parents were divorced and he was in and out of juvie until he was a teenager. Considering that they didn’t give a shit about him, leaving their child alone to the court system, and then not contacting him. (Though I doubt he would want that.) He so desperately wants a family, and he sees that in the young avengers, in the magnet family (even if they’re a little fucked up, they’re infinitely better). The team breaks him out, and a kid who looks exactly like him says they’re brothers and this powerful witch is their mother. He doesn’t want to believe it. He can’t believe it because that means he has another family that actually cares about him. Then they find out about everything Wanda went through and he takes in the connection even further. The team goes on a few missions and find out they could save his mom, and then they go through trauma via teammates dying and and the avengers/x-men fighting over his spirit mom. The team decides to breakup, he doesn’t want this to happen, the only thing he has being taken from him, he doesn’t want this to end. But it does, and it hurts, especially because his brother is willing to let go of it so easily. And it’s even harder because he’s living with him, his boyfriend, and other family who’s too nice and so he leaves and no one apparently cares. He goes on with heroics alone, working jobs, meets David and recruits him for a stakeout, then gets kidnapped by an entity. He then comes back almost a year later and has to take it in stride. He goes through so much traumatic and sad shit and either no one cares or they’re too busy. He doesn’t have much support. David seemed to be the only support he had and they’re broken up now. Wanda has her own shit, Pietro has his own shit, Billy has his own shit. HIS OTHER TEAMMATES HAVE THEIR OWN SHIT!

I’d imagine he’d have some type of resentment towards everyone, especially Billy. He has the perfect husband, perfect family, has a great relationship with their spiritual mother, and has unimaginable power. In the infinity comics master pandemonium seemingly implied Tommy has some kind of powerful potential, but we haven’t seen that yet. They haven’t even made any foreshadowing towards that. But I’d imagine after the whole break up with David, he’d have a mental breakdown from all the shit he went through. His boyfriend dying twice while he wasn’t there, after the second time David breaks up with him then gets a new boyfriend almost immediately (I don’t know the timeframe, I’m sorry), I’d crack too.

Considering all of this I introduce the following options:

1.) Put him in a new team. Have him be apart of a new team of youngish heroes, or better yet make him a mentor. He’s great with kids. I can’t think of any actual teams he could be on, but just let him be a part of a team. Please?!

2.) Have him interact with more characters. Have him interact with his family more. Wanda, Pietro, Lorna, Billy, fucking Magneto and Luna, give him more interactions with them. Have him mention talking to Kate Bishop. OR ELI BRADLEY ANOTHER CHARCTER YOU’VE SEEMINGLY FORGOT MARVEL!

3.) Give him his own miniseries. Or a fucking arc. I wanna see my baby do something cool, not play second fiddle to Billy for once. Billy gets several different comics to appear in and has so much power. Give Tommy a power upgrade like in the fanfics. Develop his powers more, like those headcanons where he could manipulate time and space. If the writers on ao3 can do that, you can do it too. Or better yet, have him be an antihero, that would absolutely fit him better. Didn’t he literally kill people when he first appeared? Have him be a bit more violent when dealing with bad guys. Not completely sociopathic, just a bit chaotic.

Anyway, please stop sleeping on Tommy Shepherd Marvel, he has so much more potential, you don’t even know.

Thank you for listening to my Ted-Talk!

Edit: Another thing I’d like to add to this is the fact that in other universes, Tommy is the magic twin…

Or Billy and him have unimaginable power…

So I know that Marvel can explore this. No excuse to just throw Tommy to the wayside like this while Billy gets all the glory.

[talonabraxas]

When the alchemist speaks of Mercurius, on the face of it he means quicksilver (mercury), but inwardly he means the world-creating spirit concealed or imprisoned in matter. The dragon is probably the oldest pictoral symbol in alchemy of which we have documentary evidence. It appears as the Ouroboros, the tail-eater, in the Codex Marcianus, which dates from the tenth or eleventh century, together with the legend ‘the One, the All’. Time and again the alchemists reiterate that the opus proceeds from the one and leads back to the one, that it is a sort of circle like a dragon biting its own tail. For this reason the opus was often called circulare (circular) or else rota (the wheel). Mercurius stands at the beginning and end of the work: he is the prima materia, the caput corvi, the nigredo; as dragon he devours himself and as dragon he dies, to rise again in the lapis. He is the play of colours in the cauda pavonis and the division into the four elements. He is the hermaphrodite that was in the beginning, that splits into the classical brother-sister duality and is reunited in the coniunctio, to appear once again at the end in the radiant form of the lumen novum, the stone. He is metallic yet liquid, matter yet spirit, cold yet fiery, poison and yet healing draught - a symbol uniting all the opposites.” ― C.G. Jung, Psychology and Alchemy

Medieval Lindorm Dragon 15th century, from the alchemical scrolls of Sir George Ripley

The Ripley Scroll

Eighteen feet long when fully unrolled, the medieval Ripley Scroll presented here offers a seemingly endless series of alchemical enigmas. Attributed to fifteenth-century English monk George Ripley, the scroll is thought to describe the so-called black, white and red stages of the alchemist’s work, but any and all further details remain open to interpretation. Despite this mystery, or perhaps because of it, the scroll was so popular that at least twenty illuminated copies are known.

[silverzoomies]

Imagine quickie rails u so good u squirt but you’re low key embarrassed bc that’s never happened before but he talks you through it so sweetly and so hornily bc he obviously finds it the hottest thing in the world and he’s kinda obsessed with the fact that you just did that bc of him

…..yeah I need to know what he’s like talking you through it …….

anon, i'm so sorry. i dunno if this is what you were expecting. but i went a little off the rails. i haven't actually sat down and written anything in fifty gajillion years. apologies in advance if i'm super duper rusty. you're a doll, by the way. thanks for the inspiration !! this ask had me red in the face all over again !! 🤍 here's a short drabble for ya 🤍🤍🤍

In the boring emptiness of some secret, government research facility, soft squeals call out with ecstasy.

Hold that thought.

Aren’t you supposed to be on patrol?

🤍

Since the OG X-Men were busy with more important endeavors (another fancy gala. Huge snore fest), Xavier took it upon himself to recruit some newbie trainees. He sent three of them to a top secret facility. Super below radar. The building sat far away from the bustle of society, hidden at an off-the-record base.

It’s around one AM when Quicksilver himself finally crashes your boring, patrol party. He zips through the entire building, scouting the area; before checking in on the trainees. After sending the other two off on their twenty minute breaks, he soon finds you.

A newbie he’s far more acquainted with. In more ways than one.

But not as many as he’d like.

You look bored as hell sitting there by yourself, swirling in a swivel chair. A series of CCTV screens flicker before you. But you barely pay them any attention. Keeping your head down, clipboard on your lap; you doodle all over a security protocol sheet. Your legs kick in a childlike way.

Your first, official mission is the most lame of X-Men operations. But even despite that, you appear to be in high spirits. Peter’s almost jealous. The first time he joined up with the team, all he got out of it was a lousy, broken leg.

Anyway, you’re cute and all. But…don’t you have a job to do, you slacker?

Peter leans against the doorway, his hands nestled in the pockets of his silver, bomber jacket. Beady eyes watch you through the lenses of his goggles. His earphones hang around his neck. A quiet jam resonates from them. But you're so mesmerized by your doodling, you don't even notice.

In a flash, Peter makes his presence known. Big hands grab your shoulders hard. He leans in to whisper sternly in your ear. His voice vibrates, robust and quaking in an attempt to spook you.

“GOTCHA! Annnnnnnd, yer dead, kid! Mwahahaha!”

You swivel around in an instant. Hopping from your seat, you raise your hands in defense. Jeez! Peter's caught off guard by how quickly you react. Blinding beams of golden light burst from your palms. The same glow floods your eyes. You hurl scorching hot rays in Peter's direction.

Well…shit.

Thanks to Xavier's mad training skills, Peter's a little faster than light nowadays. And he's ultra lucky for it. Had you raised your hands and gone pew pew pew so many years ago - he probably would've charred to a crisp right then and there. 

“Damn! You got some killer aim! That was a close call.” He whistles. Peter gawks at the holes seared into the wall, straight through some ruined blueprints. A smirk plays on his lips. He gestures at the damage with a thumb, “Eh, they probably got backups ‘a those lyin’ around, right?”

Your only response is an affectionate eye roll. But Peter notes the curl at the corner of your mouth as you try not to smile. 

Screw it. You're pretty fun. Why doesn't he hang with you for a bit? He's probably got some time to kill. At least before Chuck realizes the speedster isn't dressed to the nines, bored out of his mind at the gala.

The two of you goof off for a few minutes. As you doodle, Peter looms over your seat. Watching the CCTV screens with a ready eye, he teases you about your lack of focus on the job. You're just such a supreme newbie, he can't help it.

To which you respond with a counterpoint - isn't he the reigning champion of getting sidetracked?

Touché, little newbie. Touché.

Boredom quickly makes him antsy. And being antsy has Peter's brain reaching for any stimulation he can find. Pacing the room, Peter casts subtle glances at your figure in tactical clothing. Hot damn. Black really does highlight your most bodacious assets.

Amidst casual conversation, Peter shamelessly flirts with you. And when you flirt back, he isn’t all that fazed. The two of you are always making saucy passes at one another. Horny topics of discussion happen more often than they should. You once poured your heart out for twenty minutes, complaining that you couldn’t squirt when you got off. Part of him took this confession as a challenge.

Peter never forgot how sexually charged the energy of that night was.

Or…maybe it wasn’t? Maybe you just wanted to vent to someone who would listen. Yeah. He’s probably uber delusional. That ‘energy’ might’ve come from the sunbeams radiating in your genes.

Sure. Nothing sexual.

But if that’s the case, why else are you giving him bedroom eyes - if not ‘cuz you really wanna bone?

Expelling a bland sigh, Peter leans back against the console where the CCTV screens are. He bounces a random ball he swiped from a researcher’s desk. Flirtatious teasing continues back and forth, remaining casual.

Until Peter makes a needlessly suggestive comment.

“I’m just sayin’. Picture this, ‘kay? You ‘n me, goin’ at it like there’s no tomorrow. Pretty sure I’d get you off in under, say, three minutes er less. That’s not a promise, it’s a fact.”

Throwing you a sly look, Peter smirks payfully. He bounces the ball again.

“Pshh. Not fast enough.” You mumble.

Peter’s dark gaze leers at you from under his brows.

Oh. Oh no, you didn't just...

His eyes fire across each CCTV screen, double checking for any unwanted visitors. All clear, it’s go time. Moving swiftly, he props you up on a nearby desk. At record speed - before you can begin to comprehend his impossibly fast actions - he crams six inches of girthy, speedster cock inside you. All without any warning.

In hindsight, maybe he shouldn’t have been so impulsive. But in the microsecond it took him to move your body and pull your pants off, at the very least; he had the courtesy to prep you with his fingers. And now, you’re coming undone as he jackhammers your cunt. Peter rolls into you in a blur of silver motion. Your walls clench perfectly over his cock.

You protest through shallow moans, “W-Wait! Oh my g-...too fast, Peter! Too fast!”

The tips of his fingers circle your clit, the vibrations shattering your moans. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you bring him closer. Peter shivers as your pussy squeezes him so tight. It’s an outrageously awesome sensation that drives him to drill his dick deeper. Tilting forward, he groans, his lips grazing yours.

“Y’think I can make you squirt like this?” He chuckles, his throat bobbing as he swallows down a moan.

You shake your head wildly, whimpering the softest, “Noooooo! I told you already, I cannnnn’t!”

“Huh? What’s that, cutie? Aw. Too bad. ‘Cuz I’m not gunna slow down ‘til you do.” Peter teases, looking over his shoulder at the CCTV screens. He smirks crookedly, “Better be quick. Yer teammates’re gunna be back soon.”

You tip your head back as you whine again. Peter ruts into you so inexplicably fast, his pace renders your lungs useless. His fingers keep torturing your clit, guiding your pearl in a whirring dance of speedy buzzes. You shudder, clawing into his arms as your hips move on instinct. 

Speeding the rhythm of his thrusts, Peter furrows his brows. His cock pulses when he watches your tits bounce in your shirt. He bites his lip to stifle a whimper. Below him, you try to call his name. But his powerful movements rupture your pretty voice. “Hell yeah, gorgeous. That’s it. Don’t hold back, ‘kay? Just let it happen. Gunna cum, pretty girl? C’mon, ya gotta cum for me. You can do it. C’mon.” He begs, his tone a little closer to a whine.

Not even two minutes into sexing you up, he has you gushing a spritz of luscious heat. Score. He'll be thinking about this sexy success for weeks. The corners of your eyes leak hot tears, as a rapturous orgasm overtakes you. The entire, lower half of your body tightens, muscles clenching. Your pussy pops with a juicy burst. Leaking down your thighs and ass, your slick coats his twitchy cock.

He kisses you, his breath burning hot, “Doin’ so good, princess. So good for me. Was that fast enough for you? Hmm? Oh, fuck. I'm sorry, baby, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-”

Pulling his soaked length free, he showers your tummy in virile, white jets. Leaning over you, Peter laughs again, exhaling a long sigh of elation. His lips capture yours, drinking in your kisses for a few beats. He feels his heart twist with satisfaction. All at the awesome notion that he drove you to such an intimate, breaking point.

“How’s that for a quickie?” He teases with a cheeky grin, winking down at you.

Your blinky eyes gaze over his shoulder, looking somewhat dazed. Beneath him, you stir in place. You’re trying to say something. But you’re so braindead from the totally slammin’ orgasm he gave you, the words won’t happen.

But then, Peter notices the way your glazed hues narrow. That vibrant, golden glow from earlier returns. Sitting up on an elbow, you raise a hand to point at the CCTV screens behind him. Oh, you probably saw someone on cam. Peter’s dark gaze widens. A sudden beam of light pulsates at the tip of your finger.

“NO, NO, NO, NO-” He starts.

Too late. The golden flash fires like a speeding bullet from your fingertip, colliding into the screens. A powerful burst shatters the entire CCTV setup on impact. Electric static buzzes amongst broken glass and fried wires. Peter sighs, looking over his shoulder, then back down at your cute face.

“Babe, seriously? Now’s not the time to be tryin’ interior decorating!” He rolls his eyes, playing ignorant to your shared romp in the research lab, “Hold that thought...aren’t you supposed to be on patrol?”

[tadpolesonalgae]

Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You - Part 7

A/N: Right, this might get a little confusing, but you know how we (English speakers) kind of went from Latin, to old English, to Now English? I’m substituting those for the Old Language, ‘Middle Language’ (the transitional phase—completely made up), and whatever the common tongue is for Prythian? Yeah, sorry about that!

Warnings: none…? I don’t think…?

Word Count: 5,587

-Part 6- -🌌🌠- -Part 8-

You stare at the page, heart in your throat.

Stare at the page, and reach for a pen.

Who is this?

Ink stains the white paper, and stupidity heats your features. He probably left it as a taunt. It’s not like he’s going to respond. You groan, setting the pen down, covering your face with your hands. Mother above. Definitely not your smartest moment. Reach to flip the paper over—not wanting to be reminded of your naïveté.

More ink has appeared, just below your scribbled question.

You may hide your intelligence around your family, but that won’t work with me. Smarten up.

The words burn your features. Scowl at the paper.

Forgive me for not anticipating the paper to talk back, Eris.

It vanishes the second you’ve written the sentence, leaving you blinking at the empty space on your desk. Winnowing isn’t possible within the House of Wind—you’ve heard both Rhysand and Feyre say it before. Yet note passing seems completely acceptable, for some reason. You suppose no harm can derive from simple exchanges.

You’ve been surrounded by magic for nearly two years. It’s shameful to still be taken aback by its multi-faceted ways.

A reluctant smile gilds your mouth. That’s Eris alright. Readjust your hold on the pen.

And it’s embarrassing to rely on stupidly long words in attempt to prove your intellect. Just say it’s versatile.

The parchment disappears, then returns. Nothing’s been added.

Amusement brightens your mouth, raising the writing instrument, poising it to attack. The words dance on your tongue, weapons to provocation: You have a bad attitude to being spoken back to. But you shake your head, instead choosing compromise for your next reply.

Did you want something? I doubt you simply dropped in to say hi. Unless this is your way of making sure I got the book?

Perhaps it was my way of seeing where you fall in this alliance.

Brow draws together. He obviously means the alliance between the Night Court and him, but where do you fit into it all? How does this show your placement? What does he even mean, where you fall? Take a deep breath, release it. It will do you no good to fall for his own provocation.

I hope you were satisfying enlightened, then, you write back.

Quite.

Stare at the neatly scripted response. He’s leaving the conversation for you to direct. First thoughts go to where he acquired the book, but somehow you feel that’s not the direction he wants you to take this in. So, sighing, you stumble straight into the trap he’s laid out.

Why haven’t you told anyone?

Paper vanishes again. Takes a minute to reappear.

It’s pretty blackmailing material. Why waste it in common conversation?

Lips purse together as you read his reply. Manipulative indeed.

Whatever you think you’ll be able to extort from me, I can guarantee you’ll end up disappointed.

Not the family favourite?

Blink at the speed of the response. Like quicksilver. Vague amusement warms your chest—how clear the mockery is. Disconcertingly comforting to know he doesn’t change. The same in every form. Precious constancy. Lower the pen to parchment.

I suppose you would know all about that, wouldn’t you?

And I suppose you’ll hide beneath the guise of observation, now?

It certainly isn’t warfare. I’d think you’d be practiced at spotting pretty, bladed words.

Again, the parchment vanishes, leaving you in the silence of your own room. Feet tap anxiously upon the clear wood, leg vibrating as you wait on him. Realisation smacks you upside your jaw—you refuse to sit here wasting precious seconds for whatever nihilistic response he carves out for you. Instead, you turn to the anthology, flicking to the index, peering at titles. Searching for one that will catch your eye.

I’m flattered—you’ve sharpened your tongue since we last sparred.

Roll your eyes. Lips quirking at the inherent Eris-ness of the response.

Wooden swords will only serve me for so long. Why not experiment with steel in a controlled environment?

The parchment vanishes, and takes its time to reappear. Time you spend scanning titles, pondering their contents. Maybe you should ask why he gave it to you in the first place. Certainly not out of the kindness of his heart.

Paper reappears.

You think merely because there are entire courts between us that makes you safe?

Peer at his reply—try studying it. Does he want you to be wary of him? It seems unlikely, somehow. He wouldn’t be able to get anything from you if you’re afraid of him. He should be encouraging you to feel at ease speaking with him if he wants something.

Do you make a habit of being as unpleasant as possible to every person you encounter, or am I just lucky?

A smile warms your mouth as the paper vanishes, fantasising how irritated he might become. From your words! Exhilarating!

Eyes land on a title that piques your interest: Movement of Light. Brow narrows with interest, flipping to the registered page number eagerly. Upon the parchment, beside the tightly knitted words, lays a neat diagram. It appears to be of a rectangle with two small holes punctured through its thin mass. Interesting…

Do you make a habit of keeping secrets from your family?

Lips purse. Cutting to the core, again. Manipulative as he may be, he’s certainly skilled at finding the right bruises to target. You wonder if it’s a skill he’d been taught through books or word of mouth, or if, perhaps, it was a nastier kind of education. Shake your head free of thoughts, pulling away from the book.

Having no secrets at all is stupidly idilic. Are there any other misconceptions you would like me to clear up?

You’re surprisingly cynical for your age.

Strange how having one’s mortality ripped away will do that to a woman.

Even you can hear the bitterness bleeding through. But the words have been written, and the paper has disappeared, so there’s no use trying to take them back. Even if you’re mentally cursing yourself for allowing that kind of opening. Surprised at how easy it is to be caught up in conversation with him. Or sparring, as he so eloquently puts it.

Wonderful immortality not treating you well?

Again, with the taunting. Amusement and something else prickles beneath your fingertips. Irked.

I’ll admit, it’s not quite as spectacular as I might’ve thought once upon a time.

That seems measured enough.

I thought humans were raised to hate us.

Observe the words—how they sit on the parchment. The contrast between your short scribbles and his elegant font.

Might a deer not wish for a wolf’s strength?

Parchment again vanishes. Once you’ve counted to three, you turn your attention back to the book, scanning the passage of writing. Brows narrow at the leap in language—words you’re unfamiliar with. A photon? Maybe it would be better to start from the beginning. Where’s a damn glossary when you need one?

Paper reappears—you take a moment to pull away from the volume.

Have you always been in pursuit of grandeur?

Brow narrows at the question.

I’d say I’ve always been rather passionate about not starving. So I suppose I did once think having three hot meals a day would be utter luxury.

I would have rather rotted away than be forced to live amongst vermin.

A surprised laugh flutters from your chest, amusement sparking within you again.

You’re much too stubborn for such a miserable end, Eris; too bitter to resign yourself to such a fate, either.

Parchment vanishes. One. Two. Three. Return to the volume, start at the beginning. Where your eyes were intended to land. Sighing, you scan the title: The Foundations of our World—Stuff. Brow narrows, lips quirking upward at the vagueness of it. Stuff. Such a lack of precise articulation, yet here it is, in an anthology of noteworthy discoveries. Somehow, this piece had been selected as important; important enough to be the base for the entire book. Strange…

Eye roll across the tightly stacked letters, mind pulsing as words soak into your brain, thumping dully as blood rushes through your ears. Take everything at it’s basest nature, reduce it down to the fundamentals, and what sort of building blocks are you left with? What makes up the world as we see it?

‘Take the prefix a- from the middle language, and combine it with the Old Language verb to cut, creating the name for the indivisible: atom. The smallest bits of matter that can exist independently.’

Intrigue returns with crushing force, making it near impossible to tear your eyes from the volume when the parchment reappears. How long has he been writing? Maybe he was preoccupied.

And yet I understand it was the youngest of you who took up her weapons and headed out into the wild. For how adamantly you protested against my lack of action regarding something I could easily correct, you seem to appear quite the hypocrite. Why didn’t you go out into those woods?

Blink away the memories of frost. Of sweat-stained clothes, and matted, knotted hair.

Getting a little personal with the questions, don’t you think?

Writing to me at all is much more personal than you should ever be getting—I’m sure your friends would agree. Yet there you are, pen in hand, thinking up your next counterattack.

The reply comes with surprising swiftness, allowing you only a brief glimpse of the following passage. Just as you’re beginning to grasp the core of what the essay is talking on.

You write with the confidence sight, you reply, eager to return. Yet he seems to have put his own distractions aside, as the response follows promptly.

Magic is a wonderful thing.

Blood ices in your veins, limbs stiffening, tongue turning leaden.

You’re lying. The House is fortified with wards; practically impregnable.

Yet here we are, corresponding. Does your High Lord know what you get up to behind closed doors?

Heart spikes in your chest, fingers trembling just a little as you lower pen to paper.

You clearly want something; you’re not going to get it if you spook me away, so quit the games.

Very well, but I’ll admit I indulged in the thought of your discomfort.

Release a heavy sigh—he doesn’t somehow have a window into your room, able to watch every move you make. Surely that would be too far, even for his manipulative ways. Skin prickles at how easily he slid beneath it—fingertips brighten.

You share that delightful, sharp-written humour with your youngest brother, you know that?

The parchment vanishes, then reappears in a matter of seconds. You laugh to yourself.

Touchy subject, Eris?

The second you dot the question mark, the door swings open; you yelp, jumping in your chair, shoving the parchment away. Vanishes again a blink later, slightly crumpled from the violent rejection.

“I knocked…” Feyre supplies, features tightening with concern. “Did you not… Oh.” She blinks, peering at the door frame; the threshold. “I suppose it must have been set up to block out exterior noise, too.” Sighs. “I’ll get that fixed at some point. Seems a waste to have a sound barrier up if you’re unable to hear what’s going on outside.”

Swallow heavily, trying to look normal. Like you weren’t knowingly communicating with the heir to the Autumn Court throne. Blue-grey settles upon you, fingers fidgeting in your lap, shifting in your seat to get comfortable. Everything feels unsettled. Her brows arrow, “you’re… What were you doing?”

“Nothing.” You reply, quickly. Far too quickly to be normal.

Lips quirk. “Writing to Bas?” She teases.

Heavy sigh whooshes from your chest, deflating a little. “How do you know about him? I haven’t even mentioned him to ‘Lain,” you say lightly. Something flashes through her eyes, too quickly for you to decipher. “Az mentioned you had someone after you,” she laughs, stepping into the room, door closing behind her. “I had no idea it was so serious,” she smiles, the happiness so inappropriate with the context you have.

Shake your head in denial, “he’s just a friend. There’s nothing else going on.” She gives you a look to say she doesn’t believe you. “I’m serious,” you insist. “There’s nothing romantic going on.” That part’s true, at least.

Feyre laughs again, then shifts on her feet. A strange quest seems to overtake her. “You know things are different here,” she begins softly, “to how we lived as humans.”

Heat flushes your features, making you groan. “Oh my gods, Fey. I am not having this conversation with you.”

“I’m just saying, if you want to get out there…see the world…maybe a few males, too… That’s fine. That’s stuff we can do, now. Well, you can do.” She amends the last part. After all, she’s the youngest, and already has a mate, a husband, and a child. An entire family. The epitome of womanhood.

Shake your head adamantly, “please, stop.” You grimace. Her lips quirk, mischief in here blue-grey eyes. She’s so lively…spirited. Bubbly? But calm, too. When did she become so adult? She seems to have aged in the blink of an eye.

(Why didn’t you go out into those woods?)

She shifts again, peers around the room—it’s a superficial move. She’s buying time, building up to something. “Your floor’s clear,” she notes, nodding to the clear wooden boards. Nod in response, trying not to wring your fingers. You were doing nothing wrong. He had spoken first. Nothing to be guilty about; no one got hurt. It’s fine.

“About our last interaction…” she begins, quietly. Spine stiffens, heart spikes. “I wasn’t trying to find something wrong with you; I’m sorry it came out that way.”

Exhale softly, shoulders lose their tension. Smile easily, waving her off. “Oh, don’t worry about it,” you laugh. “I understand. I’m sorry for lashing out at you, it was unfair on my part to act that way.” Her eyes narrow on you. Keep up the smile. “Is this your way of saying you just don’t want to talk about it?” She asks, softly. Blue-grey shimmers with sincerity.

Lips begin to ache with the stretch. “What are you talking about? We’ve made peace, there’s no need to exacerbate this.”

“Do you not want to talk about it?” She reiterates, keeping calm and quiet.

“What is it?” You laugh, turning to face the desk, eyes flitting to the volume. Scan the page; absorb nothing. “What you said last time. About being a burden.”

Body stiffens, breath catches.

“Fey, I’m getting tired,” you excuse, voice steady.

“You’re tired a lot,” she replies, quietly. Still watching. “Maybe Madja should take a look at you.” Sigh. Lean back in your chair. Tilt your face back, peering at the ceiling. “I’ve had a long life,” you murmur up to the white wallpaper, “I’m allowed to be tired.”

“You’re barely twenty-two.”

“And a lot has happened. I’m allowed to be tired.” You repeat, not looking at her.

Silence stretches between you. Gentle, but taut.

“How about you?” You ask, shifting the conversation over. Turning to peer at her. Your younger sister. Feyre blinks, then nods her head. “Good. Wonderful.” Watch her silently. Mark the lowness of her lids. “Nyx still waking you up?”

Nods again, smiling faintly, traveling somewhere distant. Somewhere foreign to you. “Eight days a week,” she laughs quietly. “Rhys and I are taking turns looking after him during the nights. Despite his work-load.” Sighs, pushes hair from her cheek, tucks it over a pointed ear. “He’s been great. Supportive, attentive, perfect. I keep trying to get him to let me handle Nyx, but he’s insisting it’s a joint effort. Wants to be there in a way his father…” she trails off, eyes misting.

Nod your head slowly. “And I suppose you want to be there in a way our mother…?”

“Yeah,” she replies thickly. “I guess that’s part of it.” The quiet turns viscous, coagulating into something almost translucent.

“I read some things…” you begin gently, “about the turbulence of motherhood.”

Her features lift into a smile, “oh, don’t worry about me. Rhys and I are working through it. It’s difficult, but everyone’s there when the strain starts to set in.” You blink away subtle surprise. “Mor’s always up for taking him off our hands for a day or two. It’s the same with Cass and Nesta,” she laughs fondly. “Amren…well, she’s Amren. And Elain’s great at making little treats here and there. Smiley faces out of his breakfast and things like that—he loves it.”

You nod slowly. Blink. “That’s great.” Again the silence creeps in.

Then she’s shifting on her feet, and. You just know—

“What kind of person is Bas?” She inquiries, not at all subtly. Nosey.

“He’s my friend, and nothing else.” He’s much more than a friend, but there’s no way to explain that without an entire Court’s worth of misunderstandings and uncomfortable questions. Still, she nods, but remains in your room. “And he… His intentions?”

“Feyre,” you scold, incredulously.

Your younger sister doesn’t flinch. Keeps her gaze straight. “Okay. Okay,” she sighs, holding up her hands in defence. “I’m wary of him.”

“Please, you can trust me he’s harmless. To me, at least. I’m sure if someone swung at him he’d be the type to swing back, but that’s besides the point.” You leave out the part that you’re fairly certain he would be the one to also somehow provoke a fight. He can be pretty provocative when he wants to. Not always in a bad way…

(…a hot, male body that’s pressing you into the wall.)

“I just want you to be careful,” she says quietly, eyes misting, going somewhere far away. “Males…people can be unkind. I don’t want anything to happen to you.” Amarantha, Tamlin… You nod your head, “I understand. But Bas…I can trust him. So please don’t doubt him; please don’t doubt me either, in this decision.”

Feyre nods again. Silence stretches, then she straightens. Pats the doorframe. “Well, I’ll have this fixed as soon as possible. It’ll need to be disabled, than I can remake it—so you’ll be able to hear people coming. It’d be awful if you got yourself hurt from being startled by one of us.” She gives you a sweet smile, then disappears out into the hall, door clicking shut behind her.

Unsure if it’s her silent feet or the sound barrier that prevents you from hearing her disappearing footfalls.

————

Skin is itching, fingers burning. Heart spiking.

Burning, burning, burning. Hands on fire.

Vision blurs, floor spinning. She’s on the ceiling.

Crash into a wall, bone crunching. Stumble to the kitchen.

Water. Where’s water. Burning skin. Charring fingertips.

Liquid drips down cheeks, splashing onto knuckles.

Scraped raw, searing pain. Bone splintering, nails peeling.

Cool water fills the sink, drown her hands.

Sweet strangulation, dulcet deprivation.

Lovely oblivion.

————

Breath eases in and out, soothing your lungs. In and out. Slow and steady. In. And out.

Chest deflates, keeping your body straight but relaxed—imagine sinking into the mattress. Cheeks puff up with the exhale, calm and quiet. Sit silently. Allow the world to fade. Tension seeps from your shoulders, muscles relaxing the way you’ve practiced. Now to make sure you don’t drop off instead.

Empty out thoughts, settle into the silence. Float away on a breeze. Imagine hands being set aglow. No. They are aglow.

Eyes remain shut, tight. Picture the radiant green seeping onto your skin, setting it alight.

Fingers twitch, bones itch. Teeth grind. Nails heat.

Eyes open in time to catch the glow as it fades, sinking back into your skin. A flicker of Starfall, then nothing. Sigh heavily, back slumping, shoulders sloping. It’s something; most importantly, it’s progress. Day three of fourteen. Slow movements, slower response. Gently stoking the flames.

Remove the light from your world, lids closing, return to the darkness. Seeking solace. Breath eases in and out, soothing your lungs. In and out. Slow and steady. In. And out. In. And out. Fingertips warm, but eyes remain closed. Don’t acknowledge it. Can’t look or feel for it. Allow it to grow in the back of your mind, allow into latch into your blood; flourish. Swirling and billowing, gaining momentum until it can move on its own, until it can function without nurture.

Keep your back turned to the power, allow it to remain unseen. Pull it upward; hear as it cracks and fizzles in your head. Rapidly dividing…splitting at high-speed…multiplying until it boils and bubbles. One cleaves another in two…into three…nine…

(…Twenty-seven, eighty-one, two-hundred forty-three…)

(…two-thousand one-hundred eighty-seven, six-thousand five-hundred sixty-one, nineteen-thousand six-hundred eighty-three…)

(One-million seven-hundred-seventy-one-thousand one-hundred forty-seven.)

Heat burns your fingertips, flashing pain blaring so rapidly, sparking like lightening across your palms, splintering phalanges…down into the carpal bones, nearing your wrists.

Vision blasts into view, pupils contract to tiny dots, shrinking away from the pale green light that’s blazing from your hands, barreling up your forearms, crackling past elbows, bolting up, up, up… Muscles seize, contracting against the hot itch scrambling your flesh, twisting at sinew. The blinding light dims, eyes peeking open as it dulls to a quiet luminosity, tinting your skin. Feels like poison ivy…the nettles by your old estate.

Swallow, staring at the radiance. Almost mesmerising enough to block out the burn. Throat itches, tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth. Deep breaths. Ease in. And out. Deep and easy. Calm and quiet. Collected.

Slowly, warily, you rise from your bed, door swinging open on the house’s command. Silently pad down the hallway, arms and torso concealed well by your dress, cardigan hiding the faint incandescence of your wrists. Hands—no way to hide them. Ignore it for now, you need a drink. Deep and easy. In. And out. Calm. Quiet and collected.

A glass waits for you on the table, walk steadily forward, fingers tremble as they clutch the cup. Water vibrates inside, tiny ripples fluttering across the surface. Effervescent bubbles shimmer at the base. Grow larger, swelling into compact air, fizzing up. Simmering in your hands. Tension coils your shoulders, brow dampening. Liquid heats up, boiling into a volatile mess. Bubbles pop at the surface, scalding water splashing onto your knuckles.

Scream as glass shatters, burning your bare feet as the liquid sprays.

Heart spikes, glowing brighter, inching up your arms, over your shoulders. Crawling across your collar bones. Muscles knot, tangling over themselves as they seize in terror. Power coils closer, snaking toward your throat, slowly…slowly…

“What—”

Hazel pierces into you, flicking over your hands, marking the shards of glass. He appeared in a flurry of darkness, shadows pulling back once he’s materialised in the doorway. Eyes already scanning for the source of distress. Fix on the slow spread of toxic green as it tip-toes higher. Hits a barrier. It’s a small hesitation—but it’s enough. Magic flickers, recoiling from your clavicle, enough hesitation to be quashed. Like a weight sinking down, an avalanche of rock crushing vermin, bones crunching beneath the pressure. Incandescence shoved away, dripping down your arms, cut back to your fingertips.

Sweet relief washes over you, waves of coolness cresting from your forehead to your toes. Lovely reprieve. Exhale heavily, spine nearly collapsing beneath the strain, leaving a slight glimmer to your fingertips, nails curved and warped from heat. Stagger back as he silently moves toward you. Scarred hands reach out, wanting to touch; wanting to steady.

“Are you—”

“Don’t,” you bark, snapping your arms closer to your body. Feel their unnatural heat as it singes the fabric of your dress. His nostrils flare, scenting the charred material, shadows flicker.

Call breath into your lungs, soothing. Deep and easy. In and out. Calm and quiet. In. And out. Calm and collected. A familiar scent has hairs raising at the back of your neck, eyes flicking up to lock with hazel. Closer than before. Despite the heat.

“What was that?” He asks, the deep roughness of his voice curling across your breastbone, soothing the heated skin like a balm. Swallow heavily, keeping your hands tight to your torso. Turn away; move to the sink. The tap turns on independently, cool water sizzling as it washes over trembling hands. Cold metal mollifies your skin, a comfy weight around your neck. The tiny barrier your magic had hit. Tripped up on.

Azriel doesn’t make a sound, but you can feel him nearby, standing at your side. Watching silently as the water fizzles and hisses, the last of the glow dimming from your fingertips. How close he’d come to touching the blisteringly hot skin. Slowly, the cold begins to souse into your digits, running smoothly over your hands, no longer bubbling or evaporating on impact.

The house has already cleared away the shards of glass; dried the pool of scalding water by the time you’ve dried your hands. Flaky, and ashen. The smooth, creamy texture seemingly been ravished by the heat. Yet all you felt was a slight itch to begin with. You don’t make any attempts to conceal how quickly you want to escape the room, but you’re kept where you are. Waiting…waiting for him to change his mind about keeping your secret. After what he’s just seen…

Feet are pinned to the boards, muscles unwilling to obey your mind as you explore them to turn and leave. Arms feel leaden, stiff and immovable. Wait for the compromise to be retracted. Hands tremble, teeth faintly bite onto your tongue. Wait for the condemnation. For being so foolish; stubborn.

“Are you hurt?” Words thud dully against your ears, keeping your hands as out of sight as possible, hidden beneath the sleeves of your cardigan. Nod dutifully. “I’m okay,” you murmur. Lips are numb, mind buzzing faintly. Floorboards spin ever so slightly, blurring in and out of focus. Deep breaths. In and out. Slow and steady. In. And out. Calm and collected. In. And. Out.

Boots appear at the top of your sight, just a little way from your own. Far enough not to be intimate. He holds out a scarred hand, palm facing upward. Almost expectant.

Blink away the dizziness. Flesh tingling…wriggling beneath your skin. Nails itching.

Wait silently to see what he’ll do.

Continues holding out his hand, waiting patiently to see if you’ll offer up your own. Remain rooted to the spot, numbness crawling beneath your sleeves. Mind buzzing with confusion at the outstretched palm.

Slowly, he begins reaching for your wrist, as if to inspect the results of the experiment. Analyse the consequence. Examine.

It topples you into motion.

Turn on your feet; quietly scamper off down the corridor. Behind the safety on your door.

With the wooden barrier in place, plus the sound block on your room, you can truly feel forgotten for a while. Like time’s stopped.

————

The shower had your blood moving again, temperature cooling to a regular heat. Mind working again, mentally cataloguing every thought you had, every twinge of unusualness that could have been the signposting you should have noticed to prevent that rapid surge of…burning.

Peer down at your hands, almost absently. Aside from the slight roughness to your skin; the chapped dryness to your knuckles, there’s nothing to show for the bone deep itch that had manifested within your flesh. Just the texture becoming sandpapery. Flaky.

A dark blue towel is draped over your shoulders like a shawl, preventing the damp ends of your hair from saturating the changed dress.

(What was that?)

It stopped almost out of nowhere. One moment, steadily spreading throughout your body, the next, it seemed to stumble. Like hitting a bump of some kind. Something that disturbed its momentum. Peer down at the necklace that’s sitting comfortably around your throat, resting just above your collar bones. In the dip of their joining point.

The small, glass pendant hanging from the bronze chain sits innocently on your person. Fingers brush over the map in wonder, curiously feeling. Cool metal contains the accessory, lead encapsulated within a gleaming polish. Even the underside has a pretty finish. Lead, bronze, and glass. Maybe some ink, but that’s all it is. No secrets carved to its base, no hidden compartment. Just a simple ornament, yet something about it disagreed with you. Thank the Mother.

Fingers play with the charm as you take a seat at your desk, reopening the volume. Rusty red leather creaks as you turn to your page, more than willing to submerge yourself in learning. The candles flicker as you ease out a breath, taking in the familiar scent of parchment and something pleasantly spiced. Maybe it’s an Autumn Court scent.

Crumpled paper lands on your desk, settling comfortably between the two large pages of the anthology.

It may surprise you to learn I have better things to do than spend all my hours writing to you.

Stare at the neat, elegant script. Debate the merits of responding willingly. Returning to this strange sparring match would be acknowledging your interest. There’d be no way to talk your way back to innocence. Putting pen to paper will mean…

And yet here you are, Vanserra, writing back to me.

Oh, you hope that irritates him. Hope he sends back something vicious. Something to make you spark awake again. To light up the numbness that’s turning your world monotone.

Would you like to tell me where these wrinkles came from?

Lips tug at the edges, but remain set in a dull line. Lower your pen to the roughed-up parchment. Fingers dry and somewhat cracked in the low light.

Nonsense, Eris. You don’t look a day over thirty.

Picture the way his sharp caramel eyes blaze with ire at the brazenness. Maybe his palms also heat when he’s in a mood. It’s a little comforting to remember power probably didn’t come naturally to him. Maybe. You’re making assumptions, though.

And you don’t dress a day over fifty. Considering Rhys’ wealth is at your fingertips, you have the fashion sense of someone who’s still destitute.

Mouth parts as you read the response. Brows flicking up your forehead. Harsh…

A smile quirks the corners of your lips.

I’ll have you know I dress for comfort. You’re the one who cares so much about prettification. Maybe I could visit your personal beauty parlour sometime, Eris?

Parchment vanishes, allowing you time to peer down at the diagram before you: a small rectangular table. There are various squares left blank, while others are filled in with one or two letters. The boxes that do contain letters attached are numbered, correlating with asterisks further down the page, displaying a full title.

Who would ever accompany you? It’s bad etiquette to visit a tonsorium on one’s own.

The smile fades after a few moments. Who would go with you if you wanted to visit somewhere? Elain? Feyre? …Mor? Shake your head, pushing away the dismal thoughts he’s brought to your attention. Divert elsewhere.

It’s worst to not entertain your guests. What a miserable (and sour) host you would be. I think I’m actually quite glad to not be visiting anytime soon.

Try to return to the anthology; find yourself awaiting his reply. Leg tapping against the floorboards. Minutes pass while you attempt to absorb more of the text, but nothing’s sticking. Like there’s a fog passing through your brain, stopping you from taking in the wonder of the world. More minutes tick by—the sky a solid dark blue the other side of your window. A few other candles gleam alight, and you murmur your thanks to the House. Flame flickers in response. Oddly comforting.

Eyelids start to feel heavy, weighing into your vision.

You don’t realise you nodded off until you wake from your nap. The desk is still void of a reply; you wearily peer around your room, attempting to orient yourself. Knuckles itch to be scratched, still rough to the touch. Gaze settles on your door. Perhaps it’s a little scary that you wouldn’t know if something was lurking directly the other side. Wouldn’t be able to hear any heavy breathing, or the scrape of steel. Deep breath, because there’s nothing there.

Stand to draw the curtains, but hairs stand on end. Remain still for a few seconds, centring on the feeling. Is it fear? Is it loneliness? Brow knits in concentration, absently drawing the curtains, turning back to face the entrance to your room.

(The only exit.)

Sigh in frustration. It’s not good to give into your…however you’re feeling. It will only encourage your mind to exacerbate whatever problem its fabricated. Still, you find yourself opening the door, peering down the well-lit corridor. Nothing there, no strange feeling, no lurking presences. Just your mind finding something to react to, creating a madness to subject you to. Deep breaths. The House of Wind is secure. Safe, and secure. You’re safe here. Nothing bad will happen; you won’t get hurt.

Deep breaths, heart lowering its pace.

Move to bring the door to; notice something on the ground, beside the frame.

Crouch down to pick up the small tin. Bring it inside, door swinging shut as you hold it up to the light.

Peer at the neat label. Pop open the lid; look inside.

It’s a small pot of hand cream.

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch

CBMTHY Taglist: @impossibelle @naturakaashi @sakurafrost3-blog @ficienjoyedrbspot @azriels-shadowsinger @marina468 @misstea12 @going-through-shit @fussel9913 @minakay @i-am-infinite @wannabewolf @thegirlintheshadows101 @kennedy-brooke @esposadomd @horneybeach1 @jeannineee @harrystylesfan2686 @tothestarsandwhateverend @abysshaven @starlight-hope @stupidwingboy @nastynesta @luvmoo @furiousbooklover @kuraikei @kemillyfreitas @chasing-autumns-chill @marvelpotter @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @imma-too-many-fandoms

[bamboozledcorvid]

I’ve been on an xmen kick recently so I need to talk about Magneto and more importantly the brotherhood.

There are lots of good bad guys in marvel; Loki, Venom, doc ock, etc but the difference is they are bad guys they are driven by greed, bloodlust, jealousy, general assholeness, whatever.

Magneto fights for equal rights.

One of my favourite forms of xmen was X-men: evolution, which showed Jean grey, Scott summers (cyclops), Kitty pryde (shadowcat), Kurt Wagner (nightcrawler), Evan Daniels (spyke) and Rogue all as teenagers in high school and whilst I loved those characters my favourite thing about the show was the brotherhood.

The main four members of the brotherhood being; Todd tolansky (Toad), Pietro maximoff (Quicksilver), Fred dukes (Blob) and Lance Alvers (Avalanche). They all do bad and questionable things but the only reason they are all villians is because they didn’t fit into Xavier’s idea of heroes so he never even tried to help them.

Toad arrived the same day as Kurt, Kurt was welcomed with open arms no questions asked. Toad fought Through the manors defence systems to “see if he had the gift” (despite Charles being a mind reader and Scott telling him he had it) then fought Kurt, and then when he ran off no one went after him because Charles told them not to.

Avalanche arrived in the next episode on the same day as Kitty. Charles detected them both but only went to get Kitty and when Avalanche tried to befriend her and expressed that he felt out of place and was happy to have someone else like him around Charles told Jean he was a bad influence and to end the friendship. At the beginning of the episode Jean asks what they will do about him and Charles says he’ll handle it and then doesn’t even bother looking for him.

Next blob appears and whilst Jean makes an effort to be nice to him (if only to stop him from killing Duncan) none of the other xmen even try. Charles doesn’t acknowledge him at all until he kidnaps Jean, something he done because he spent his life as a carnival freak being laughed at and was excited to have finally met someone who didn’t laugh at him. (Something that annoyed me was that Jean did laugh at him just not to his face instead she did it behind his back to kitty)

Finally Ouicksliver, he appears in the same episode as Evan as Evan’s rival. Despite Charles and other Xmen frequently talking about giving people a chance they chose to leave Pietro because he was a bit annoying and impatient.

So with Mystic and Magneto being the only stable (ish) adults in their lives they all joined the brotherhood. And whilst they did bad things just because they were told to whenever they didn’t have orders they weren’t as evil as they were mildly agitating.

Toad and Avalanche specifically weren’t even evil they were just poor and lonely. Everything the two done was mainly for money, food, (occasional revenge), and or to be liked. Avalanche frequently started earthquakes to impress Kitty and Toad would really hang out with anyone who gave him the time of day, (something the Xmen didn’t)

[ckret2]

So your Euclidean blood is silver (I'm personally of the opinion we don't know what Bill's blood actually looks like, only how it appears in the gravity falls earth reality)

Has Bill ever seen quicksilver? Mercury? Is his blood MADE of or contain a lot of mercury? Im wondering if he was suprised to see it on earth

I go by the assumption that how it appears on Gravity Falls's Earth is how it appears in general. I personally headcanon that the electric/TV static effect it has going on is particular to Bill and his powers; other members of his species would have more plain-looking silver blood.

Yeah, he's seen mercury; I assume it wasn't surprising to him, it's a whole-ass periodic element. Chemistry probably isn't the same in EVERY dimension, but it's probably pretty similar in a lot of dimensions—otherwise Ford wouldn't have been able to explore so many dimensions without, like, his molecules falling apart. Earth wasn't the first time Bill saw mercury (or silvery liquids in general).

Human blood is red because hemoglobin is red; hemoglobin is red because of its high iron content, because that helps carry oxygen. To determine why Euclideans' blood is silver, we'd need to determine what, on a molecular level, is being moved around by their blood that would result in a chemical composition that causes their blood to look silver. That would involve making a lot of decisions about how their bodies work (like, they probably aren't moving oxygen, due to an absence of the most common oxygen-moving element) and possibly even getting into inventing how chemistry in Euclydia works.

And that seems like a lot of speculative biology effort for no payoff, so I'm not interested in worldbuilding all that. His blood's silver because TBOB says so, that's as deep as I'm getting.

[leclercss]

Tainted Love, Part 10 (Charles Leclerc ft Lewis Hamilton)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8,

Part 9

Masterlist

plot: in an attempt to fix your marriage, you've reluctantly agreed into being in an open relationship with your husband. so far, it's only been your husband that has taken advantage of your recent arrangement until one night out you meet a man who makes you begin to question your marriage.

pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader, lewis hamilton x fem!reader

warnings: (+18) mentions of smut, cheating and some swearing

authors note: the final part. it's been 84 years since i first started this fic. thank you for the love.

word count: 7k

taglist: @ironmaiden1313, @ru-kru, @buendiabebeta, @flwr-quicksilver, @ravioli19, @julesandro, @hornedravenclaws, @thatobsessedreader @pinkangelavenue, @queenofshinigamis, @notleclerc, @paullinne, @bisexualbith, @tempo-rary-fix, @bbygrlllllll, @teenagedreams-cl, @lunamelona, @leclerc16s, @palomaxaxaxa @viennakarma, @cmleitora, @angeliquekalampoka, @mirrae, @amalialeclerc, @roseseraj, @glow-ish, @janeholt3, @eviethetheatrefreak, @toppersjeep, @miniemonie2001, @angelwithoutmywings, @nichmeddar,

"[Y/N]!"

You don't really hear your name being called at first. You've been stuck in your own thoughts for the last five minutes, staring at something in particular.

"[Y/N]!" The voice is closer to you this time a round but it's still not enough to knock you out of the deep trance you've found yourself in. It's only when the plastic stick laying on the counter top in front of you is snatched away that you're pulled out of your trance.

"You can keep looking at that test all you want, it's not going to change the outcome".

Your eyes immediately shoot up as you see Lewis standing on the other side of the counter with a wry smile on his face.

"What? Huh?"

His smile softens as you struggle to muster up a few words. His sudden appearance and the sudden disappearance of the pregnancy test has clearly caught you off guard. So much so that your cheeks are slightly red at the fact that you've been staring at the negative pregnancy test more than you would like to admit.

"I said, you can keep looking at the test all you want. It's not going to change the outcome," he repeats. You're pretty sure the humour in his voice is to hide the disappointment (or relief) in his voice.

"Unless, you want it to be positive?"

You immediately shake your head. "No, oh God, no!"

Lewis chuckles once more, "It's okay, [Y/N]. If you don't want to have babies with me you can just say i- Owww!"

His hand immediately shoots up to his now sore bicep. No thanks to the punch that you've just thrown at it.

"It's not funny, Lewis," you try to stifle a laugh but the look Lewis is throwing at you as he rubs his bicep is only making you fail.

"And no, I don't want it to be positive," you continue. A lot more serious this time. "The last thing any of us need right now is a baby in the picture. Life is already a shit show, I don't need to add literal baby shit on top of that too".

Lewis smiles at you softly. He's still rubbing at his tender bicep. Drama queen.

"I know," he responds. "Would have been a cute kid either way though".

Because you and Charles are some of the most attractive men I've ever laid eyes on?

But you held back on expressing that thought out loud. The situation at home was still extremely raw. The fact that you and Lewis were having a conversation like this was almost a miracle. Especially after you learned that Lewis and Charles had a face to face meeting while you were spending some time in your home town. A conversation which Lewis had initiated. How he ever got Charles' contact details was something that you were too scared to ask about. Some things were better not knowing.

And while you were thankful that both of them left their confrontation without any physical bruises, there were clearly some internal bruises that still hadn't quite healed. Especially when Charles had looped you in on the conversation, distain in his voice any time that he mentioned Lewis. He was so agitated after the meeting that Charles had unintentionally ratted both Lewis and himself out on the fact that neither of them covered themselves in glory. Both of them using their sexual experiences with you to try and get one up on the other.

He didn’t ask you whether or not you had sex with him before you went to Belgium. When you had confronted Lewis about the meet up, he volunteered that information himself. It was his way of “being more honest in our marriage” before he ranted about Charles being arrogant and entitled. How ironic.

You were initially angry at their behaviour but you somewhat understood it. It was childish and pathetic for the both of them to use you having sex with them as some sort of dagger into the other's heart but they were desperate. Trying to salvage whatever they could from your relationship. And who was to say you wouldn't behave the same way if the roles were reversed?

You feel your breath catch in your throat as Lewis is staring at you.

"Because that kid would have the most beautiful mother," Lewis finished his sentence, his voice ever so gentle.

His words leave you without any words of your own. You feel your heart strings tug as his words sunk in.

You hadn't realised a tear was running down your cheek until Lewis wipes it away with his thumb. His eyes meet yours and you begin to feel your body slowly melt as under his gentle touch.

While, to his credit, Lewis was there for you when you began panicking about your period not arriving and offered his support, this moment was so delicate and intimate. And it had been the first moment like this since you had returned from Belgium a few days ago where you could almost feel you give yourself to him.

And while your relationship was still at one of its lowest points, it felt nice to have a moment like this and appreciate that deep down, you've always loved each other. Even if at some stage in your relationship you had grown to dislike one another.

As the two of you are still looking at one another, you feel your hand reach up and lay it on top of the land Lewis has rested against your cheek. Your fingers eventually lacing into his.

You were savouring this moment with him.

You stood like this until the two of you were interrupted by Roscoe. He'd clearly been missing some attention from the two of you and decided that dropping a slobber-coated toy onto your feet was the way about getting your attention again.

"Thanks for that, Roscoe," you joked as you kneel down to pick up the toy and begin to play with your beloved pet. And as you do so, you can't help but notice that Lewis' eyes remain fixated on you.

As you played with Roscoe, your mind drifted to what lay ahead for you. You weren’t ready to let go of Roscoe. Surely you’d come up with some arrangement either with Lewis but you weren’t sure how emotionally ready you were for all of this.

You placed a kiss on the tip of his nose before Roscoe decides that he’s ready to lay back on the sofa for a while. You decide to follow him with Lewis not far behind.

As you sit on the sofa beside Roscoe, you’re a little surprised that Lewis decides to take a seat on the other side of you. He takes your left hand and intertwines it with his own. He’s smiling to himself but he looks sad.

He stays silent for a moment, before finally letting you know what he’s thinking. “It’s weird holding your hand and not feeling your wedding ring”.

You let out a little sigh before resting your head on his shoulder. “I know. I feel naked without it”.

Lewis begins to play with your fingers. He’s touching you as if he’s remembering every last millimetre of your body.

“Why do you think your period is late?” he asks you quietly.

“Probably stress,” you tell him. “High levels of stress can affect my cycle”.

He nods. His tattooed fingers are tracing the palm of your hand. Memorising every little line.

“Have you told him?”

He doesn’t want Charles’ name mentioned in your home any more. He told you this before you left for Belgium a couple of weeks ago. And out of respect for your marriage, with what little hope there was left in it, you obliged with Lewis’ wish.

You sigh once more, “No. I haven’t”.

He doesn’t think you catch it but you see the glimmer of joy that quickly flashes across Lewis’s face. For him, it’s a small victory. When you found yourself in a state of panic last night, realising that your period was over a week late, it was Lewis you had come to. You had trusted him to get you a pregnancy test this morning. And you had trusted him to wait with you while you waited the two minutes for the result.

“Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out,” he had told you.

You had nodded, not saying much. Once the negative result showed up on on the test, he had pulled you in for a hug as he waited for your reaction.

He didn’t know what outcome he would have wanted. The possibility of you having a child with him excited him. But then the realisation that it could also be Charles’ angered him. And so he said nothing.

But as he sits here now, with your hand in his and your head on his shoulder. He feels some sort of hope. Maybe he was delusional. You had taken your wedding and engagement rings off after all. But you were here with him. And it was him that had supported you through the pregnancy scare. Not Charles.

You looked around the living room, taking in all of the furniture and decor that you and Lewis had bought over the years. Wondering how you were going to divide it all up. It was a job you could save for another day. But you didn’t have long before you had to figure it all out.

“Are you excited about the idea of New York for a year? Work must be happy that you said yes”.

You feel Lewis let out a deep exhale while your head still rests on his shoulder.

When you had returned to London a few days ago, after a couple of weeks at home, Lewis had received a call from work about an opportunity in New York. They were expanding operations and needed a man on the ground to oversee the project. And as Lewis spent a lot of time in the US over the years, they felt like he was the perfect man for the job. And they needed someone ASAP.

And with your marriage in tatters and having spent the day before looking at Charles' smug face, Lewis seized the opportunity without a second thought. That was until you arrived home and he broke the news to you. He was moving across the pond. After a heated discussion, Lewis finally admitted that he didn't know what that meant for the two of you. He was keen to fix things between the two of you but he couldn't go back on his commitment.

If only the commitment of a lifetime together had meant just as much when all of this started almost two years ago, you thought.

“Yeah, I mean I love New York. It’s my second home. But there’s just so much to do before the move in six weeks,” he replies. “My mum said she’d take Roscoe for us. Until I figure out if it’s a more permanent move”.

“That’s good”.

“You can visit whenever you want though. She doesn’t need me there to want to spend time with you,” he continues.

You look up at him and smile.

“I think she prefers you to me, anyway,” Lewis scoffs, causing you to let out a giggle.

“Not possible, Lew”.

You pause before asking him, “Did you tell her everything?”

He shakes his head. “No, not everything. But she knows that we’re separated,” he tells you. “What about you? Did you tell your mum everything?”

“No. Same as you. I’m not ready for the lecture she’d give me,” you sigh.

Lewis half-heartedly chuckles.

“So she doesn’t know about him?”

“No, she doesn’t,” you sigh once more.

Your hand has still been in Lewis’ the whole time, his fingers still tracing every millimetre of your skin.

“You know, work said they’d be able to get a visa for you,” he tells you quietly.

You lift your head from his shoulder and look at him.

“You what?”

He looks at your hand in his for a moment longer but finally lifting his eyes to look in yours.

“They said they’d get you a visa for the States. So you can come to New York with me. We can start fresh,” he sounds nervous. “We can start a new life. A new city, a new beginning.”

You don’t say anything. You’re just trying to process what he’s told you.

“We've always dreamed about New York, baby. This could be our chance to make things right. I want to make things right.”

-

Your mind flashes back to the first time that you stood outside Charles’ building. You’re just as nervous this time around as you call Flat 807. Charles has made sure that Joris and Riccardo weren’t home, he’d save you from their rathe for today. He just wanted you to himself. It’d been long since he’d been able to do so.

As you’re buzzed into the building and make your way towards the lift, your conversation with Lewis about New York is still rattling around in your brain. Well, it was more of a proposal from Lewis rather than a two way conversation.

He’d told you about an apartment he found in Greenwich Village. You were a big fan of the show Friends so it was the perfect area in Manhattan for you both. It had an extra room, perfect for a walk in wardrobe for you both. Or even a nursery if you guys were ready to start a family. He’d clearly taken inspiration from your recent pregnancy scare. He then told you about how Roscoe could eventually move over and how you could spend winter weekends skiing in Vermont with spring and summer weekends spent in Miami or the Bahamas. It was your choice for a do over. The past forgotten. The future full of possibility.

Just thinking about it made you feel dizzy. And you couldn’t allow it to occupy your mind any longer. Especially not when you were about to see Charles for the first time since he came to see you at Whitney’s.

You pushed the idea of New York to the back of your mind and made your way out of the lift as you reached the 8th floor. You see Charles waiting for you at his front door.

Your heart skips a beat at seeing him again and you immediately run towards him. He’s just as desperate to see you as he pulls you in for a hug, burying his face in your neck. Indulging in the feeling of you again.

"I've missed you, amour," his voice is so gentle in your ear.

Your hand makes its way to the back of his head, your fingers already getting lost in his long locks.

"I missed you too, Charles".

You embrace each other for a little longer. It's the closest you've been in so long and it feels so fulfilling to have him cling onto you like this.

As you fingers softly massage his scalp, you turn your head slightly to place a gentle kiss on his ear. While subtle, the kiss causes Charles to lift his head so he can look at your face and your eyes immediately connect with his.

"Hi, baby," you whisper. Your fingers are still lost in his hair.

"Hi, amour".

The smile that's on his face is almost enough for you to just want to grab his hand and run away with him forever. He looks so happy. It's the smile he gave you when you told him you loved him for the first time.

Despite what your body is telling you, your mind flashes back to a couple of days ago when you had that intimate moment with Lewis. And you were almost ready to give your everything to him. And that's how you feel now. But you can't help but feel guilty.

"Are you okay, amour?" Charles asks you. A hint of concern in his voice.

You've gone quiet for a few moments and so you nod to reassure Charles. You need to get Lewis out of your head. And so you lean in and kiss Charles.

The feeling of his lips on yours soon allows you to forget about your husband. As Charles' hands make their way to cup your face, you feel the image of Lewis in your mind drift away.

The two of you slowly make your way into Charles' apartment, lips still attached. You stumble your way into the kitchen where Charles lightly presses his body against yours so you're backed up against the counter. He eventually peels his lips away from yours.

"Merde, I don't think you realised how much I've missed you," Charles says with a light chuckle. You can't help but smile.

"I know, I've missed you too. I can't believe it's been almost three weeks since I've seen you".

"It's the longest we've ever been apart, amour".

You can't help but let out a light-hearted laugh. It felt good to see him after all this time. Bar from having to behave in public around your friends and, erm, husband, yourself and Charles could barely stay apart from each other once you were in close distance to each other.

You always seemed to find a way back to each other. And here you were once more, in his arms. His face ever so close to yours. The smell of his aftershave subtly lingering in the air. He was intoxicating.

"How was Belgium?" he asks you.

"It was fine," you respond. "Nothing ever really changes there though. But it was nice to see my mum. It'd been a little while".

He nods. "Yeah, I know the feeling. It's been a while since I've been back to Monaco," he says before pausing for a moment. His eyes quickly scan your face before continuing, "Did you speak to your mum about what's happened?"

You shrug your shoulders. "A little. I mean, I told her things haven't been great between Lewis and I. That we were spending time apart".

Charles nods once more. "How did she take it?"

You let out a sigh. "I mean, she was upset that I've been having a hard time of it. But honestly, I think she's a little relieved. Her and Lewis didn't always see eye to eye".

Charles can't hold in his laughter.

"I feel like I've heard that once or twice before".

You roll your eyes playfully. The grin on Charles' face right now is bordering on smug.

"Yeah, well, he's a polarising character. You either love him or you don't," you sigh while crossing your arms across your chest.

Talking about Lewis in front of Charles is a lot harder for you this time. The memory of the last few days is coming back to the front of your mind again. The pregnancy scare, Lewis, New York. Talks about babies and new beginnings. The nervous feeling is growing in your stomach once more.

Your mind continues to race. Only when you feel Charles place a hand on your cheek do you snap out of it.

"Amour?"

"Huh?" you ask, suddenly started. "Did you say something?"

Charles shakes his head. "Don't worry about it?"

"No, Charles, what did you say? Sorry, my mind went blank," it's a little bit of a lie. You can't tell him that your mind keeps drifting back to Lewis.

He lets out a little sigh before asking, "Do you still love him?"

Fuck! You so weren't ready to answer this question.

And the longer that Charles looks at you, waiting for answer, the more nervous the feeling in belly grows. You lick your lips. And as you run hand through your hair, hoping to find the courage to answer Charles' question, you notice his eyes move towards your hand.

Your left hand.

While you're caught off guard, Charles grabs your hand and pulls it towards him. He inspects it closely, taking in a sight that he's never seen before. You're ringless.

"Charles," you begin but stop as he looks up at you. You're unable to read the look in his eyes.

"You're not wearing your rings?" he asks, his voice almost silent.

You shake your head, you need to find your words.

"Charles... I have to-"

Charles saves you from having to find any more words. You're ringless and for Charles, that's enough proof and the answer he'd been looking for.

Your hand still in his, he lunges towards you and catches your lips in a sloppy kiss. The desperation of being apart from you for so many weeks is getting to him. And now, seeing you without your wedding rings, he can't be without you any longer.

The kiss is messy as the two of you grow more and more hungry for one another. Your tongues have found their way into each others mouths as you claw and grab onto one another in any way that you can. Your hands in his hair. His hands on your ass. Your hands under his shirt, the feeling on his chiseled abs being glazed over by your finger tips. His hands kneading your breasts.

At one point, Charles' hands make their way to the back of your thighs as he lifts you up. Your legs instinctively make their way around his waist. Lips still very much attached, Charles leads the two of you two towards his bedroom. You're slow in navigating the hallway. Banging into walls and furniture along the way.

As soon as Charles manoeuvres his way to the bedroom, he kicks open the door before placing you on the bed. His lips never leaving yours.

The desperation of needing one another only intensifies as the two of you begin to strip one another. Clothes are being pulled off one another in record time, finding themselves in every corner of the bedroom. Your lips even stay attached as Charles fiddles with the hook on the back of your bra while you pull down his boxer briefs. His penis didn't take long to become hard and fully erect. The absence of your body for three weeks and the lonely nights of imagining your touch was enough to have him hard and ready.

"Oh shit," you gasp as you feel Charles fingers graze your folds. You hadn't even noticed him remove your panties from your body.

You hiss again as he pushes his fingers past your folds before his fingers begin to make circling motions on your clit.

"Mhhmmm," you groan. Charles' warm breath is hitting your face and you open your eyes to see his face practically against yours. He's looking into your eyes, watching you as you begin to squirm and groan at his gentle touch.

"Did you miss me?" he whispers, applying more pressure onto your clit.

You nod as you let out a groan, your head falling backwards. As you shut your eyes once more, you see a flash of Lewis' face and immediately open your eyes.

You're grateful that Charles is toying with your clit as you let out a squeal at the image of Lewis.

What the fuck is happening? you ask yourself. You've had sex with Charles, more times than you can remember and yet Lewis never came into your head before. But today, he won't leave you alone.

Needing to occupy yourself, you wrap your hand around Charles' member and begin moving your hand up and down with consistent strokes. Your thighs jerk at the sound of Charles growing in your ear.

"Shit," Charles groans at your touch.

Your lips find each other's once more in another wet and sloppy kiss as you both play with one another.

"Do you want me to lick you out?" Charles grunts into your ear before he begins sucking your lobe. Occasionally licking at the skin beneath your ear.

"Yes," you pant.

Charles wastes no time and quickly makes his way down to the bottom of the bed. He doesn't spend time playing with your breasts or with teasing you any longer. He's hungry and he wants to hear his name roll off your tongue again.

You look down at Charles as he takes a familiar position between your legs. He makes sure his eyes are connected with yours before he leans forward to suck on your clit.

"Oh, God," you instantly cry out as you feel his lips on you. Your thighs jerk once more.

Charles releases your clit from in between his lips so he can give your pussy a long, wet lick.

"Say my name".

You moan at the sound of his voice, so deep and commanding.

As you open your mouth to say his name, Charles takes your clit between his lips once more.

"Oh my god, Charles," you squeal.

Charles begins his assault on your pussy once more and your hands find their way to his hair so you can release some of the tension by pulling at the strands. His face is practically buried against your thighs as he devours you. He's takes in the sight of you squirming before him. Your moans are like music into his ears. He pushes your hips back down towards the mattress before sliding two fingers inside of you.

"Oh, fuck. Charles, I can't," you whimper.

Your pussy is throbbing as Charles' fingers move in and out of you.

"Can't what, baby?" he teases.

Your eyes immediately shoot open at the sound of Charles calling you baby. He never calls you baby.

"Shit, I-," you begin but he plunges another finger into you.

"Do you want to cum?" he chuckles. However, his laugh is anything but innocent.

You nod, hoping that your orgasm ends whatever the fuck is going on in your head right now.

And it does, as you moan and let your body reach it's peak, you look down between your thighs once more as Charles laps up all of your juices.

He puts aside any opportunity for you to return any oral favours as he climbs on top of you, positioning his body in between your legs as he prepares to push himself inside of you. But before he does, he looks at you for permission.

"Are you okay to go?"

You nod, unable to find your words as you come down from your orgasm.

Charles wraps your legs around his waist before lining his dick up against your still throbbing pussy. He takes a moment before he pushes himself in side of you. The both of you moaning simultaneously.

While you adjust to his penis inside of you, he places his hands either side of you head. His face close to yours once more. Your juices glistening his lips and stubble.

His hips move slowly at first, aware that you may still be sensitive from your recent orgasm. As his hips begin to pick up a rhythm, Charles leans down to place a kiss on your lips. As your lips move against his, you let your hands roam across his chest and torso. Letting your fingers dance along his skin.

His movements are finding some momentum as Charles is thrusting in and out of you. Moans rolling from your tongue as you feel his cock moving deep within you. You're taking in every movement and thrust, letting him kiss you however he pleases.

"I... I love you, amour," Charles whispers into your ear.

Tingles run through your entire body as he confesses his love for you. At first you moan at his response, after all he is fucking you. But you let one of your hands run up to his cheek, making sure that his eyes are looking into yours, before you tell him,

"I love you, too".

It's enough for Charles to pick up his pace and begin thrusting into you even quicker than before. The two of you moaning more and more frequently.

Charles takes you by surprise as he takes your hand. It's your left hand. And he's wrapping it around his throat so you're lightly choking him.

You look at him, surprised. But he doesn't let it stop him. If anything, he fucks you harder.

You've never choked him before. You notice that he's running his fingers over your hand that's over his throat.

Wait.

He's not just wanting him to choke you, he wants to feel your hands on him because you're no longer wearing a wedding ring.

You try not to let this phase you. After all, you've thought about Lewis more times than you would like since you came to Charles' place. You won't let him get into your head as Charles makes love to you.

"Merde," you hear Charles groan. He's clearly enjoying the feeling of your hand around his throat while you have no idea how you feel about this. It’s all so new and out of character for Charles.

"I prefer it when you choke me instead," you joke. You feel a sense of relief as Charles laughs.

"Anything for you, amour," he pants as he lets your hand go before he gently places his hand on your throat.

"I don't want to go this long without you again," Charles grunts. The movement of hips becomes more sloppy as he nears his peak.

"I love you, Charles," you whisper as you feel yourself reach your own high. A knot tying in your stomach.

He leans down to place another kiss on your lips before he tries to pick up the pace.

"Fuck, I love you," he moans. He thrusts into you a couple more times before finally releasing himself inside of you.

Charles collapses down on the bed beside you. The room is also silent aside from the two of you panting, recovering from your orgasms.

As you lay on your back, you feel Charles' arms wrap around you, pulling your body against his. He places a gentle kiss on your temple.

But you can't seem to get rid of the feeling that's in your stomach. And the longer the two of you try to recover, the larger the knot becomes.

You almost flinch at the feeling of Charles' fingers brushing your hair out of your face.

"Sorry, amour, didn't mean to startle you," his voice is so sweet and so warm. He pulls you closer to his chest, not wanting to let go of you.

"I... I can't believe it," Charles begins.

The knot in your stomach won't go away.

"I, I wasn't actually sure if you'd leave him, you know," Charles continues. "When you left for Belgium, I thought it'd be okay. But when I met Lewis that day, I was a bit sceptical. He said that the two of you had sex before you left. I tried not to believe him but the longer you were away, I started to believe it may be true".

It's like he has word vomit. He can't stop talking. He's so relieved that you're here.

"But then you said you were back and you wanted to meet. I was a little hopeful but you never know how these things go. But when I saw you get out of the lift and when I saw your face, I just knew it was all going to be okay."

He leans down to place a kiss on your lips. He's so excited.

"And then I saw you without your rings. I... I can't quite believe it. But it's real. And you're here, with me and we-"

"Lewis is moving to New York," you blurt out.

Fuck, that isn't what you wanted to say. But Charles is so happy and he can't stop talking.

But now he has, and he's looking at you. He's a little confused but he's still happy.

"He's moving to New York?"

You untangle yourself from his arms as you sit up against the headboard. Charles follows suit.

You look at him and nod. Charles can't help but smile as he takes your hands in his.

"That's good, right?"

You gulp. "He's moving in a few weeks".

Charles nods. "Okay, well if you need somewhere to stay, you can always stay here. We'll figure it out, okay? We'll get somewhere of our own if you want? But the important thing is, we can be together".

'Charles..."

"What’s wrong, amour?"

You let out a sigh as you close your eyes.

"I... I ... Lewis is going to New York and he wants me to go with him".

The End.

(There will be a sequel please don’t kill me)

[dinogoofymutated]

Happy halloween everybody!!!!

Well, Happy early halloween, that is! I hope everyone is having a good day! As some of you know, I'm choosing to celebrate my 1000 follower celebration in the incoming months!! (well, technically like 1300 right now, I'm a little late 😭) I'm doing something especially special for this event, and I'll be letting all of you guys customise your fics!!

So the way this is going to work will be fairly simple. I will be writing these fics exclusively in the incoming months due to the fact I've been extra short on time lately, Overall, I will be posting four customised x-men fics in the month of October (once every week) Plus a special guest appearance on halloween day!

Sounds good, right? Well, you might be wondering, "Goofy, how in the world are these customisable?" And let me tell you!!! I will be creating seven writing prompts for all of you to choose from! The first three fics will all have two prompts per poll, with the winning prompt being the one used for that fic in particular!

But don't worry if the prompt you voted for doesn't win, it won't be lost to fanfic limbo completely! The fourth fic in october will have four prompts to choose from, the three losers + a brand new prompt! That way each of the losers gets a chance at redemption!

Once a prompt is selected, I will then create another poll to choose what character will be chosen for that fic! Not every character in X-men will be on every single poll, as candidates will be chosen by prompt compatibility. Once a character is selected, there's also a chance I will create a third and final poll choosing what sort of halloweeny character they should be!

These polls will be posted in the weeks leading up to october, with my hope being that I will have them all finished before october actually starts. I'm very excited to do this with Y'all, as I definitely have not done an event like this before!! Y'all better help me stick to it!

(Also, I have most of the characters I plan to put in the polls in the tags, but if you have someone in mind and want them to be considered as a candidate, please reblog, reply, or send me an ask!)

Poll 1: Haunted Mansion vs. Hocus Pocus!

Prompt one: Haunted Mansion

You've recently moved into an old, spooky mansion that your great-aunt left you in her will. It's been uninhabited for years but is strangely well-kept. You're sure you live here alone, but every once in a while you can't shake the feeling of being watched…

Prompt two: Hocus Pocus

You've been working at the Harkness museum of witchery for about six months now. One night after you get off of work, you decide to take a walk through the graveyard across the street to look at the stones. You find a very strange cat stuck in a trap in the process, and let the poor thing out. Turns out, he's not actually a cat at all, but working at a witch museum has its perks, and you find yourself helping the kitty regain it's true form!

Winning selection: Haunted Mansion!

Character poll:

Candidates: Nightcrawler, Quicksilver, Cyclops,

Winning selection: Nightcrawler!

Full fic Here!

Poll 2: Howling vs. Bloody halloween

Prompt Three: Howling

Something has been spotted in the woods behind your house. You don’t believe any of the bullshit all these reporters and wannabe horror vloggers are pushing, all you know is that you really want them off your land. Until you have a personal encounter with this creature, that is. What is the thing that has seemingly moved into your neck of the woods, and does it have anything to do with your new neighbor?

Prompt Four: Bloody Halloween

A bat flies through your window one night, and although you're dreadfully afraid of rabies and scared to touch the little thing, it's in really bad shape and you can't stand by and just let it die. You spend the next few days nursing the little guy back to health, when one day he up and disappears. The next night you go out with your friends, and feel like you keep seeing a familiar pair of eyes in the crowd.

Winning selection: Bloody Halloween!

Character poll:

Candidates: Gambit, Quicksilver.

Winning selection: Gambit!

Full fic here!

Poll 3: Season of the Witch vs. Halloween town!

Prompt Five: Season of the Witch

You’ve always considered the rumors about your family’s witchy and magical past to be fictional, absolute nonsense. Well, you did, until you found yourself accidentally bound to someone who’s more or less your familiar. Neither of you particularly wants this, so you focus on whatever magical skills you managed to inherit on breaking the bond- but is that really what you want?

Prompt Six: Halloweentown

You've won the title of best pumpkin carver for the past five Halloweens, which is a big deal in Halloween town! The Sixth year rolls around, and you're determined to keep your title. Until some dude accidentally smashes your masterpiece mere steps from the festival. You make him swear to you he'd make up for it next year. You've almost forgotten about it when the end of August rolls around, only to find him right at your doorstep.

Winning Selection: Season of the Witch!

Character Poll:

Candidates: Angel, Morph, Quicksilver.

Winning selection: Morph!

Full fic here!

Poll 4: Redemption round

This poll was a chance for the losers to win, and one fresh prompt to round them out

Prompt 8: Practical Magic

You recently found out that your family is cursed for any man you love to die. You’re devastated when you find this out the day after you realize you’re deeply in love, and make it your mission to keep your boyfriend alive. Shenanigans and ridiculous conflicts ensue, and after a very long couple of weeks- He reveals to you that he’s been immortal the whole time.

Winner: Practical Magic!

Character Poll:

Candidates: TBA

[layla4567]

Imagine: A relaxing shower after training

Peter Maximoff x Female reader

Summary: You were practicing hand-to-hand fighting with Quicksilver, even though they both have superpowers, Professor Xavier insisted that we practice other forms of fighting just in case.

Warning: Smut, naked bodies, p in v, fingering

..............................................................................................................................

I don't know why the professor insisted on this, it's ridiculous-you thought-you could incinerate your opponent in a matter of seconds and it's almost impossible (if not impossible) for them to catch Peter with their super speed. Anyway, here we were.

You were wearing a black crop top and gray sports cloth pants and you had your hair tied up for comfort. You went to the training room, there were several tarps on the floor and Peter was waiting for you sitting on one of them

Peter saw you appear in your workout clothes and thought it made your figure stand out but he just scoffed and said

"You finally show up, I've been waiting for you for hours"-he stood up

Speedy (as you liked to call him) was wearing an army green short-sleeved T-shirt and baggy black training pants.

"Oh sorry-you said ironically- it's not my fault SOMEONE is running at the speed of light."

"You are forgiven precious, luckily I am compassionate with those who go to the rhythm of a snail"-he finished with a smirk

sparks began to emanate from your fingers as if you had all the fireworks in the palm of your hands while your gaze hardened

Peter's face turned pale, he was scared when you did that. That's why he knew he didn't have to make you angry

"Uhmm w-well how about we start training before you burn down the place?"

First both stretched a bit so as not to hurt their muscles and then the training began. You practiced with your fists dodging each other, Peter was tempted to use his super speed but held back because the rule was no super powers. You was throwing kicks and Peter barely dodged them.

Suddenly you took his right arm and with a stunt you wrapped your legs around his arm and threw him to the ground, with a hold you raised your hips slightly up so that Peter can't escape the hold.

He didn't expect that, so when he was lying on the floor, scared, he exclaimed

"Time out! I give up!!"

You loosened your legs on his arm and he stood up quickly, holding out his hand so you could get up.

"Since when did you learn to do that?"-Peter said still surprised but still smiling.

There are things you don't know about my Pet..-you said mysterious

"Meow the kitten knows how to defend herself"

"Shut up"

You rolled your eyes and went to your room to take a shower, you were tired and sweaty

You entered your room and prepared the clothes that you were going to use later. You put on your bed a jean and a red shirt. You grabbed a robe and began to undress, dropping your crop top and pants on the floor.

After that you went to the bathroom and opened the tap letting the water run. You made sure that the water is warm enough not to freeze you but not so hot it burns you. You put a hand under the rain while you felt the warm drops slip through your fingers. You waved your hand as soon as the water began to heat up, removed your robe and stepped into the shower.

Peter was running through the halls when he heard the sound of water running from the shower in your room. He was too tired to go to his room on the other side of the mansion and that's when a naughty idea crossed his mind, but he didn't want to be intrusive or bother you, but damn he liked you so much. He decided to sneak into your room thinking if what he was about to do was right or not.

Your door never had a key, at least not during the day, which is why Peter was able to get in easily. The boy saw your clothes lying on the floor and approached your bathroom door.

He knocked three times on the door

"Y/n! Are you there?"-But of course she's there, idiot, where would she be?

You were enjoying the water falling on your face when you felt the blows and the voice of Peter, you shuddered. What was Peter doing here? What did he want now?

"Uh yes Peter I'm here and In case you didn't notice, I'm taking a shower"

"Ye-yeah I know and that's the point I-Uhmm"-He was too nervous to speak

You started to get impatient and feel somewhat uncomfortable when you heard those words..

"Can I shower with you?"

A wave of modesty washed over you, you suddenly felt vulnerable. Showering with Peter? It was something you wouldn't have imagined. Clearly you liked the boy but this was something intimate. But a feeling of adrenaline began to rise through your belly and you didn't know why

Peter had his eyes tightly closed, regretting having exclaimed those words. He was starting to walk away when he heard you say

"Ok, you can come in"

Speedy couldn't believe it, shyly opened the door. He took off his clothes and piled them on the toilet seat. He slightly opened the shower curtain and entered with you closing his eyes

You were waiting for him face to face, the first thing you saw was Peter with his eyes closed so you laughed but then your eyes began to slowly go down to his torso. He had well worked pectorals, his white skin seemed soft and he was tempting you. You kept looking down until you reached her stomach, it looked like a Greek sculpture, and her small waist made you want to hug him and feel his skin in your hands.

You kept looking at his stomach until a thought quickly crossed your mind: Don't keep going down, don't keep going down! And you looked up and to the right blushing and covering your body with your arms

Can I open my eyes now? -When he heard you tell him "yes", he slowly opened one first and then the other and blushed

He looked away out of respect but he couldn't resist and he saw your body again, it was even more beautiful than he thought. You still looked down in embarrassment while covering your private parts. But thighs were still showing, and that's where Peter's eyes went. You had one leg in front of the other, resting your whole body on one of them, which made you look delicious. Peter looked at your hips, you weren't a supermodel but for him it was as if the gods themselves had sculpted you. Your rounded hips gave shape to your waist and accentuated it. Peter's pupils dilated.

Now Peter's eyes were on your shoulders, they ran through your body as if it were a manuscript and ended up on your collarbones to then look at your wet neck. He wanted so much to kiss it and feel the taste of your skin

Peter noticed that you were uncomfortable so he told you not to worry about what it was going to be like if he wasn't there. So he grabbed a sponge, a soap and began to rub his body without looking at you

Slowly you stopped covering your body with your arms and you thanked him with your eyes and turned your back to face the hot rain, it felt so good. You closed your eyes letting the water fall on your body and slide on your skin. The drops seemed to play a race along your legs. They started at your belly and slid down your hips. Meanwhile, Peter was concentrating on not looking at your butt as he rubbed his neck and back with the sponge.

The boy sneakily approached you a little closer to moisten the sponge. Since Peter was taller than you, you felt his warm breath near your ear, he was closer than he should have been. Suddenly and delicately you felt fine fingers pass through the sides of your hip. They slid from top to bottom following the drops of water as if he wanted to clean them. You felt a chill even though the water was hot

His touches were soft, he passed a hand around your waist caressing it slowly, his movements were delicate as if he were molding a sculpture.

"Peter.."-You said almost in a whisper to turn your head and look at him

He looked at you smiling mischievously. You decided to stick closer to his body as you tipped your head back and placed it on his shoulder near his neck to give him more space. Now that you was completely close to him, Peter dropped the sponge and placed both his hands on the sides of your waist. Another shiver ran through your body at the feel of his grip. Peter's hands, manly, went down from your waist to your hips and near the lower area of ​​your belly, reaching your buttocks where he left a small pinch. You moaned but not in pain.

Peter's hands embraced you, they ran through your body as if he wanted to leave paint marks on it, you closed your eyes while your breathing quickened and your toes curled. His left hand went up to your breasts while the other went down to your privacy. First he caressed you on the outside while you didn't know where to hold on to keep from falling to your knees so you placed one hand behind his neck and your other hand grabbing Peter's wrist that was below.

When Peter inserted a finger into your intimate area, you let out a small moan while throwing your head back even more. You felt your lips throb and he liked that. He began to stimulate you by making circles with his finger on your clitoris, the rhythm varied, first they were slow and then fast.

"Oh my god Peter please..!"-you gasped pleadingly then bit your lips

You felt that you were about to cum and you didn't know if you could keep holding yourself back for longer

But Peter didn't give you rest, with your head thrown back he began to place wild, hungry kisses on your neck. The hand that was in your privacy came up and grabbed your jaw. Peter kissed every inch of your neck and jaw as if he were going to devour you, you did nothing but moan with pleasure and purr like a cat. Peter went down to your collarbones and left wet kisses

Tired of being the one receiving and not being able to touch his body, you turned around abruptly and your lips found him. You grabbed his face feeling needy and kissed him voraciously. His tongue explored yours while his hands cupped your ass. They both moan without taking off their mouths.

Peter grabbed your legs and you wrapped them around his hips as he pinned you against the damp shower wall. The sprinter reaffirmed his grip by placing his hands on your thighs and encircling them.

"Are you ready?"-he asked with his pulse racing

You nodded hastily and impatiently, there was no need to ask anything, you just wanted to have it inside of you now. You wrapped your arms around his neck and when you felt his hips loosen inside you, a surge of pleasant electricity ran through your body from head to toe and you opened your mouth in a silent moan. His thrusts were delicate at first but they increased in speed as Peter noticed that the first sensation of pain had disappeared and there was no risk of hurting you. Your body was hitting the wall at a considerable rate but you was enjoying it. Their bodies were drenched in sweat, and not just from the hot water. Your wet hair fell over your shoulders and chest while Peter's fell over his forehead almost covering his eyes. He rose and rose like the temperature, the mirror was fogged up while some of the water fell on Peter's back and torso

God looked so good with his broad back and the raindrops running down his shoulders, it made you feel more feverish. He looked like a maddened bull, his muscles tensed and concentrating on keeping up.

Suddenly Peter threw his head back with his eyes closed and panting he said

"I think I'm about to cum baby"

and said and done with a hoarse growl from Peter you felt the walls of your interior fill with something warm

But he wanted to continue a little more until you did the same so approaching your ear he whispered

"Come on, now cum for me please"-He begged for it like a wounded or helpless animal

Goddamn Maximoff

You closed your eyes and grabbed his hair tightly while our bodies moved frantically up and down like in a fast dance and when you couldn't take it anymore you felt your fluids shoot up.

Maximoff put you back on the ground gently, their bodies felt exhausted and your legs trembled slightly. You turned off the faucet while you two caught your breath and got out of the shower. Peter came out first and wrapped a towel around his hip and held out his hand to help you out as he put on the robe you had come in with.

You finished drying yourself in your room and getting dressed, You expected Peter to do the same but he hadn't brought his clothes. When you pointed it out to him, he ran out of your room even with his robe around his waist. When he ran through the corridors he left small puddles of water. You laughed imagining the poor fool slipping and falling (if Peter hadn't already).

.....

Professor X was walking through the corridors with his wheelchair when he saw a puddle of water in front of him

"How strange, where does this water come from?"

He saw that Hank was coming up behind him and asked him

"Do you happen to know why there are puddles of water all over the hallway?"

"No idea, maybe the janitor forgot to dry the floor"-Hank said casually.

..............................................................................................................................

I leave this and slowly walk away...

[callooopie]

Bloodborne Hunter!Davos would consist of…

Just go out and kill a few beasts. It’s for your own good. You know, it’s just what hunters do! — Gehrman, The First Hunter // Bloodborne

..Gurl what is this? Idk either man I thought I cooked something different.. anyways important! This is formatted like a wiki page for the Bloodborne wiki (fextralife my ride or die). So if format is strange it’s bc I was trying to go with this Wikipedia style. I’m trying something new I’m sorry I’ll be back to the regularly scheduled program soon 😭😭😭 but if people like this style 👀👀👀…. Tarnished!Jacaerys .. stay tuned..

— shit.. you were really having trouble with this game and this questline… time to look up the wiki —

Davos, Bloody Hunter is an NPC in Bloodborne.

“A peculiar young man with the smell of blood permeating from him. What could he want?”

— Davos information

Can become hostile if attacked. However attacking and subsequently killing ends his quest line prematurely and you do not receive the items Bracken blood vial or Blood Gem Ring

An NPC that appears throughout the map wherever you are in the story. His quest line moves along with your story progression up until Byrgenwerth. The ending of his quest is in Old Yharnam at the Church of the Good Chalice.

Drops: if killed, will give 9000 blood echoes and Davos’s Shotel. Although this weapon can also be obtained upon quest completion

— Location

Can first be found after the Father Gascoigne fight if you return to the Hunter’s Dream and return back to the Tomb of Oedon lantern. He will be leaning against the large statue in the middle of the area right next to the lantern. Upon your first encounter he will gift you 5x quicksilver bullets.

> can be summoned before the Vicar Amelia fight. Enter the grand cathedral and look to your right immediately.

— Associated quest

Meet him at his first location. Respond with the option I’m not a Bracken, and he will remain cordial and see you as an ally. Choose the other option and he will attack you on sight and must be killed. Continuing with the first response, he will ask you to aid in his cause. Respond I will, and he will give you 5x quicksilver bullets. Choose I will not, and he will remain at his first location.

Note: if you choose I will not and continue in story progression, but come back and say I will, his quest line will not work.

Continuing after accepting his quest, Davos will appear near every major lantern throughout the map. After each required boss is killed, he will spawn after returning to the Hunter’s Dream and then returning back to the boss area lantern.

— Dialogue

upon first meeting after the Father Gascoigne fight

“Hm? Oh, a fellow hunter are you? Smelling of blood and a crazed look in your eyes, you might just be my type. Unless you’re a Bracken.. are you?”

responding “I am not”

“Ahh, good good. I’d have killed you where you stood if you said yes. Haha—not laughing are you? Shame, the ladies always said I was funny.”

“I suppose I ought to give you an answer for my behavior earlier. Firstly, I am Davos. When not skinning beasts alive in the streets—I’m hunting Brackens. Have you heard of them? A cursed, vile family. Stole land from my kin, according to family legends. Although… that was so long ago..”

next meeting, inquire about the Old Blood after the Vicar Amelia fight

“Old Blood? Bah—load of fantastical falsities if you ask me. I do not care to drink my fill of dubious liquids unless it is gin that burns your throat. How am I a hunter then? Well heheh.. you don’t need to be a part of the church to be a hunter of something…”

upon asking about Brackens

“Ugh—why do you wish to know about those fools? They have scorned my family for generations.. or so I was told by my father. How can I do it? They are like beasts.. something vile and dangerous, surely they are all evil. That line is cursed.. surely...”

after the fight with the Shadows of Yharnam, before the lantern near Byrgenwerth

“You know where you’re heading next? Byrgenwerth up ahead? You’ve heard little about it? Hm.. perhaps Gehrman is losing his grip then—..how do I know him? Ahaha.. a tale for another time.”

upon interacting with him again

“Ah—why am I here? I’m on the trail of.. something. Can’t say if it’s a real lead or anything. But the trip won’t be in vain, I got to talk to you at least, haha.”

Coming upon Hemwick Charnal Lane, speaking with Davos at the lantern.

“Oh, it’s you again. Surprised you’re here.. it’s a little out of the way, no? What am I doing? ..tracking some prey, nothing to worry your pretty head about. I can almost smell his fear, his blood. Maybe I’m lost in the head already, ha!”

Interacting with him again

“Still here? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were in love with me. Haha... Say—what if you join me on this hunt? Our quarry’s running off to Old Yharnam from what I can tell. A caged rat, that’s what it’ll be.”

“Oh—one more thing I suppose. I found this in one of those shops broken into. Thought you might like it—unless you’re not the type for jewelry that is! There’s of course no foul in saying no but…”

choosing the option of taking the ring

“…really? Oh.. I—I did not expect such a swift response. You have made me a happy man my love, haha. What does it mean? Ah—you’re a foreigner here in Yharnam aren’t you? Then I shan’t ruin my own fun and tell you now that’s for sure!”

upon finding him at the Church of the Good Chalice

“Damn! ..he put up a fight actually.. that mucker.. h-ah hah.. don’t worry about me love. Just a flesh wound, as hunters would say. If I could still dream… oh what does it matter… I’m a goner regardless.”

interacting with him again

“..H-Here.. take my.. weapon. I’ll have no use for it anymore. Finally, that dogged bloodline is no m-more. If only.. I could seemingly live.. to enjoy that thought.. Curses—a shame.. I won’t get to hear your voice anymore eh? Here.. take this too, drink it—savor the taste. Bracken blood—sweeter than wine. Or maybe sweeter than you, would you agree heheh? ….”

— Lore

A strange character, who continues his familial feud against the once-noble family of the Brackens even during a hunt. From what is gleaned from his dialogue and item descriptions throughout the game, Davos was once a church hunter. Younger than his compatriots, but a swift learner and a deadly force. He was once able to dream, much like the player and other hunter NPCs like Eileen The Crow. A description from his attire reads: “Hunter attire of Davos, Bloody Hunter. Lightweight and darkened fabrics suggest that Davos learned his own techniques from The First Hunter. It’s said Gehrman took a liking to his most recent and final student. Although banished him from the Dream upon learning about an irreparable truth.”

Davos seemed to be a good hunter however despite his transgressions. The item description of his weapon reads: “Trick weapon of Davos, Bloody Hunter. Pulling back your arm and casting it activates a mechanism that launches the blade at an enemy with a sharp steel rope and can thus be used to hook an enemy to pull them closer. A masterpiece of workshop craftsmanship, and could only be wielded by an individual of unquestionable skill and talent.”

And from what players can gather through exhausting his dialogue it seems Davos had intentionally sought out those aligned or a part of the noble house of Bracken and killed them. This in turn however tarnished his reputation as a hunter, and he was exiled from the Hunter’s Dream. Davos is also implied to be blood-drunk from his actions of killing innocent people. The description for his head gear states: “A worn down Hunter’s hat with bandages hastily tied around the top to secure it to one’s head. The bandage that goes around the eye would be able to hide the unseemly look of a blood-drunk hunter, concealing the collapsed pupil behind the fabric.”

From the item description of the ring he gives the player, it seemed Davos had become romantically inclined toward the player and decided to bestow a marriage proposal to them—although with our hunter being a foreigner; the true meaning of the ring was lost on them. This seems to not displease Davos however, as his dialogue laughs and teases about it. The description reads: “A golden ring fitted with a blood stone gem and a worn off house sigil on the inside of the ring. Given by Davos, Bloody Hunter. In Yharnam, this would be considered a proposal or courting strategy for wealthy young nobles to win over the one who had caught their eye.”

— aw fuck.. now you gotta get to NG+ to do his quest right.. time to get back on the grind you suppose.. —

[superherotiger]

Thought I'd try my hand at drawing what Quicksilver might look like in the new X-Men '97 series if he were to ever appear! The suits I used were based off X-Men: The Animated Series, All New X-Factor, and Magneto Rex!

If you'd like to see how I made them and why I chose these suits specifically, my video below goes far more in depth about it! ✨

Hope you all have an awesome day!

-Superherotiger

@sunsetuniverse @callie-caje @lunasquared

[scarlet--wiccan]

Scarlet Witch reading guide

This is not meant to be a comprehensive list of every appearance, but a walkthrough of what you need to read to understand Wanda's lore, history, and personal life events. I also have a breakdown of the Maximoff's powers and an explanation of their parentage and ethnic background. [This is an updated + condensed version of this post-- the formatting is messed up and I can't edit it, so I made a new one]

X-Men Vol 1 #4-11-- Wanda & Pietro's first appearance as teenage mutants & Brotherhood members.

Avengers Vol 1 #16-27-- The twins join the Avengers. Known as the "kooky quartet" era.

Avengers Vol 1 #128-- Wanda meets Agatha Harkness and begins studying witchcraft.

Giant-Size Avengers #1-4-- Wanda meets Robert Frank and believes he is her father; Wanda and Vision confess their feelings and are married.

Avengers Vol 1 #181-183-- introduces Django Maximoff.

Avengers Vol 1 #185-188-- also known as Nights of Wundagore, the twins return to Transia and learn about their birth on Mount Wundagore & the origin of Wanda's powers; Wanda is possessed by Chthon.

Vision & the Scarlet Witch Vol 1 & 2-- Wanda & Vision acclimate to married life. Pietro's daughter Luna is born; the twins learn that Magneto & Magda are their birth parents; Wanda becomes pregnant and gives birth to twin boys.

Avengers West Coast #42-62-- includes Vision Quest & Darker Than Scarlet storylines. Vision's memories and emotions are erased; the babies are destroyed by Pandemonium and Mephisto; Wanda learns that she is a Nexus Being while suffering the manipulations of Immortus.

Force Works (1994)-- Wanda acts as team leader and begins a relationship with Simon Williams.

Scarlet Witch (1994)-- a miniseries which introduces Lore and expands on the concept of Nexus Beings.

Avengers Vol 3 #1-3; 10-11-- Wanda learns more about chaos magic and resurrects Simon Williams.

Avengers Vol 1 #503-507-- a storyline titled Chaos, which kicks off the Avengers Disassembled crossover. Wanda suffers an apparent mental breakdown and causes a series of calamities as her powers escalate to uncontrollable reality-warping.

House of M-- a sprawling crossover event set within an alternate reality of Wanda's creation; concludes with Wanda inadvertently erasing a large percentage of the mutant population. This is referred to as the Decimation, or M-Day. Wanda disappears and remains missing for several years.

Young Avengers; Young Avengers Special; Young Avengers Presents: Wiccan & Speed-- introduces Billy Kaplan and Tommy Shepherd, who learn that they are Wanda's reincarnated sons and begin searching for her.

Avengers: Children's Crusade-- the Young Avengers, Magneto, and Quicksilver discover Wanda as an amnesiac living in the care of Doctor Doom. They help her recover her memories and her powers are returned to normal.

Avengers vs. X-Men-- Wanda rejoins the Avengers. Alongside Hope Summers, Wanda helps banish the Phoenix from Earth and causes a proliferation of new mutant to manifest, the first step in her redemption for M-Day.

AXIS-- Wanda & Pietro learn that Magneto is not their father after all, and they're not actually mutants.

Uncanny Avengers Vol 2 (miniseries)-- the twins learn that their powers are the result of the High Evolutionary's genetic experiments.

Scarlet Witch (2016)-- Wanda returns to her magical focus and has henceforth been written as an adept spellcaster. The series does a lot of worldbuilding around witches and witchcraft. The twins learn that their birth mother was actually Django's sister, Natalya Maximoff, and that they are descended from a long line of Scarlet Witches.

Doctor Strange (2016)-- Wanda is featured in the Last Days of Magic storyline.

Uncanny Avengers Vol 3 #26-30-- Wanda rejoins the Avengers Unity Division and begins a relationship with Doctor Voodoo.

Avengers Vol 1 #675-690-- a crossover event titled Avengers: No Surrender.

Quicksilver: No Surrender-- an excellent miniseries following the previous event. Wanda and Jericho use magic to aid Pietro.

Avengers: No Road Home-- a sequel to No Surrender.

Strange Academy-- Wanda becomes a faculty member at a school for young magic users.

Darkhold (2021)-- the original Darkhold is discovered; Wanda's prior experiences have made her strong enough to handle it without corruption; she merges the Darkhold with her own soul and uses it to bind Chthon.

Trial of Magneto (2021)-- Wanda stages her own death as part of an elaborate scheme to gain access to, and magically enhance, the Krakoan resurrection system, leading to her final redemption for M-Day.

Scarlet Witch (2023)-- Wanda opens a metaphysical shop in upstate New York and constructs a magical portal called the Last Door, which opens anywhere in the world for those in need.

Avengers (2023)-- Wanda joins a new iteration of the Avengers, led by Captain Marvel.

Contest of Chaos-- a crossover event. Agatha attempts to create a new Darkhold, much is revealed about the origin and nature of chaos magic.

Scarlet Witch & Quicksilver; Scarlet Witch (2024)-- a special anniversary miniseries which leads into the solo title relaunch. The twins are hounded by an abstract entity called the Griever and begin to expand their powers beyond their previous limitations; new context is given to Nexus beings; Chthon escapes containment.

[gerec]

Hi Gerec! I’ve just got recommended a fun XMA skit from YouTube (here for anyone want to watch https://youtu.be/_rFyHJ1pSyg?si=jglR5bSlNsnKGckc) Basically, it’s about life at Xavier’s school and it makes me want to read fics like that :Đ So ol’ powerful fic recs wizard Gerec, do you know some good fics that focus on what life is like for mutants at Xavier’s school (preferably with some Cherik, or Quicksilver’s appearance would be lovely)? Thank you :Đ!

Thanks for sharing the link Anon! Here are some of my favourite fics where Charles and Erik run the school together. I hope you like them!

Through the Barricades by starandrea (series) Erik and Charles learned to live without each other once. It's harder the second time--so before they even discuss it, they've decided not to try. (Erik accidentally moves into the mansion without anyone but Charles noticing for days. He may be the first to return, but he won't be the last.)

Come Together by blarfkey (series) It's totally normal in Suburban America for the dad to pick up his rebellious teenager from jail, right? Even when it's the Pentagon instead of the local police station, and your dad is a Mutant Supremacist Assassin and America's Most Wanted who didn't post bail so much as murdered all the guards?

Whatever. Peter will take what he can get at this point, even if it means the most painfully awkward road trip in the history of the universe.

Somewhere Like Bolivia by iberiandoctor (jehane) After Cairo, after the school is rebuilt, Erik has every reason to leave. Charles and Peter think about giving him a reason to stay.

Synthesis (Scenes from an AU) by starlady (first of a series) Synthesis is a dynamic process. Or, scenes from the AU where Charles and Erik have sex, get married, become best friends, and run the school together.

The Xavier-Lehnsherr Academy for the Gifted: 1973 by listerinezero A year in the life of Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr, co-founders of the world's first school for mutants, one month at a time.

The Spaces Between by mainecoon76  Almost a year after Washington, Erik is working on his own to find out what became of the Sentinel research. He keeps to himself and likes it that way. But when a mutant assassin tries to murder Charles, he finds himself reluctantly drawn into an adventure that involves a dangerous plot, Charles' own agenda, a complicated relationship, and holiday celebrations at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.

Late Night Conversation by listerinezero (First of a series Fighting the Good Fight) Marie runs into Professor Lehnsherr in the kitchen one night during her first week as a student at the Xavier Institute.

[dasha-aibo]

Kinda hate how mainstream media seems just hell-bent on erasing any Slavic identity from Slavic characters.

Like, Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver are well-known for being Jewish/Romani. But they also have a Slavic surname (Maximoff, written in that terrible-terrible French manner), which means there's likely Slavic ancestry there too. Whodathunkit, Eastern Europeans have complicated ancestry that may involve 3 or even more different ethnicities.

Dr Doom is also at least partially Slavic, but everyone only remembers his Romani heritage.

And when Slavs DO appear it's only Russian and full of terrible-terrible Russian stereotypes. So Big Burly Vodka Man, Cosmonaut, KGB agent and Femme Fatale. Literally nothing else.

Netflix Witcher erased so much Slavic stuff from this POLISH book that was popularized by a POLISH game studio, it's kind of insane.

It's all so tiring.

[superconductivebean]

#994: Hogwarts Inquires - 117

Did you know? - 18

The text on the Boards from the Undercroft:

appears before the In the Shadow of the Estate quest.

Few attempts on text legibility were made here and in the reblogs of that post. And no, these notes do not belong to Sebastian -- it is a headcanon.

We do not know the author. Howevor, Isidora is the most probable candidate for the authorship due to the name 'Percival' appearing but the what is likely a timestamp, 1632, veils on that probability, if to assume it is a timestamp, of course. It might be not. We don't know.

Interestingly, the artist tasked to fill up the boards wrote the spellings of the Middle English words: weter, strem, ston, chaungeable.

Diacritical marks were not widely used in the writings done in this language, if at all. You can read about it in more detail here.

These symbols are the triskelion and the valknut:

The latter although predates the Viking era, may not be as old as the former; the former is common in many of ancient art, going as far deep into the ancient history as Helladic and Mycenaean eras of the Ancient Greece and the neolithic mound in Meath, Ireland. Weirdly, the stone objects MC can throw with magic have blue-ish carved symbols on their surface; the carvings look somewhat distinctly Pictish, the choose for colour therefore sounds… like it's Let's Throw Everything Ancient To The Region To The Greater Mix Of Things.

This knot:

is the doire / dara knot; symbolises the oak tree, perhaps the most sacred among Celtic people.

This bit could be important to remember: according to this website, Oak's astrological period starts at June 10 and ends at July 7.

These:

are half Alchemy symbols for basic elements (tin, lead, silver, gold, mercury, etc), half transfiguration alphabet as seen from this image:

This little fella is Saturn/lead:

The congregation of the points at the lower left eludes me but the number of points is 7 and the number 7 appears on the end point of the dimensional door aka the wall MC and Sebastian appear at after they are teleported back to the Undercroft from the Isidora's estate:

Perhaps it tells us Isidora had 7 hideouts and not 3? Besides, the number 7 is the number of the planets corresponding to the 7 metals:

Sun - Gold - ���

Moon - Silver - ☽

Mercury - Quicksilver - ☿

Venus - Copper - ♀

Mars - Iron - ♂

Jupiter - Tin - ♃

Saturn - Lead - ♄

Uranus, Nepture, and Pluto aren't a part of Alchemy due to a very simple reason: by the time Uranus was officially discovered in the 1781, Robert Boyle had already published the book The Sceptical Chymist: or Chymico-Physical Doubts & Paradoxes, in 1661. He'd effectively removed the word 'Alchemy' from the use and replaced it with the word 'Chemistry', thus also avoiding the confusion between branches of Alchemy that did research on various materials (that includes spagyric teachings; Paracelsian physicians were the people turning poisons into cures and remedy) -- and what people inspired by Hermes Trismegistus developed smooshing many different things together, such as philosophy, alchemy, astrology, etc, creating a wtf.

I'd say it gives geodesy but may also be a weird depiction of the sal commune err common salt:

What to say about these I can't decide, but they look like ~compound names for various alchemical substances, from left to right: Spiritus Fumans (Stannic Chloride), Aqua Tofana (the infamous tasteless belladonna poison), and Verdigris (Carbonate of Copper, once used as a green pigment; was mildly toxic):

What it's supposed to mean eludes me, besides, it is an assumption.

What I suppose it should mean: something Isidora, if that belongs to her, found; all things besides Verdigris were discovered after her death in the late 1400s, however, there is a person who could've been trying to decipher… these things.

In the In the Shadow of the Undercroft quest Sebastian mentions:

No, someone in his family knew about it [the Undercroft]. The Gaunts are full of secrets.

That Gaunt should've been alive in 1632, assuming it is a timestamp. They also needed to be at school at the time, so could be a professor, a member of the staff (a gamekeeper, for example), a Headmaster; unlikely it was Corvinus Gaunt, who was a student by the time the castle would receive plumbing update (late 17th--early 18th century).

'Aura? Ancient Magik' has to become my favourite kind of explaining things to meself because I, too, have no idea what this means:

I can only tell some text is in Greek. An attempt to type after this bit yielded some results:

Ιαεω is probably Ιασω, recovering&recuperation;

ΒαθρεμονΝΟΝΙΛα is probably βαθμολογία, a degree of smth or a grade;

ρπδ is a greek numerical for 184;

φ, a golden ration mention?;

πδ has to do with the Ptolemy's table of chords?

May not be linked to the much speculated Ancient Magic's capability of healing anything but more so of a celestial body's movement, tied, anyhow, to the Magic's power. Probably.

Speaking of which, Is this the constellation of Lacerta? The number of stars doesn't match, however. Lacerta has 9, this one appears to have 10 or 11; likely 11 + it has a satellite constellation of just 3 stars. I summon astronomy nerds to solve this one + the text and the table below is likely have something to do with Astronomy. I might also suggest: weirdly drawn Draco.