#That shit is stronger than a blood bond

[chill-vibes-but-rainbow-panic]

That rare, but beautiful moment, when you're playing Salmon Run and you and your team are absolutely synced!!!

[raiiryuu]

This would be Jason's second voice message to Laxus (as he'd gotten distracted rambling in the first and ran out of time to talk about the real reason he was calling). "Me again! Sorry, I didnt mean to go on about the coffee shop, I just thought it was really cool. Anyway, I heard something the other day about you and wanted to check in. Are you giving love advice?? I heard you've become something of a guru. Please let me know!"

"This again...?"

For the first time in what might've been years, Laxus actually called Jason back instead of just texting him.

"Hey -- yeah I have no idea where you got that from, but absolutely not. I told two people in the guild to grow up and actually talk to each other and it's gotten outta hand ever since..."

Which is not to say he hadn't been giving some advice to a few other guild members, but this was the last thing he wanted to be known for. He had half a mind to ask about potentially running interference for this before it got any worse, but they both had more important things to do. It'd die down on its own after a while.

...Right?

[sugarlywhispers]

viking!b.katsuki x fem!reader

a.n; i wanted to give viking!bakugou a try, and honestly, this is all @imaginationmess fault for feeding me fanarts of bakugou and his dragon🙃 luv you tho🤍

Viking Bakugou Katsuki who rides the biggest and most terrifying dragon that has ever existed.

A legend said that his dragon in particular had been going on for generations in his family, no one willing to risk their life to tame it. Until Katsuki’s uncle, Bakugou Kudo, did it. He had been the first in generations to ride this dragon. Yet he understood that the bond between dragon and riders was not consolidated between them.

When Katsuki was eight, the little shit escaped the hut and went towards where the nests were. Kudo almost had a heart attack when he saw the brat far off and almost there. He sprinted as fast as he could, a tragedy already displaying in his head –the kid being incinerated, turned to ashes, and his sister cutting his dick off for being a sorry ass uncle. Fuck, and he would had deserved it. Because even though he had tamed the beast, it was still very unstable to let anyone close to it; one of his own men had suffered the consequences of trying to get close, more than half his body had been burned. He was no longer part of their battles.

However, Kudo saw in first person how a dragon’s bond was created. Between his terrifying dragon and his little nephew.

It hadn’t looked much from his perspective, yet he felt the magical aura surrounding them. Katsuki laughed as he touched the dragon’s snot like it was a mer pup, happy and excited while climbing its leg with such ease until he was up on its back, right behind the head. The dragon himself helped the kid to reach the place. Kudo noticed then the beast’s eyes shining a very resplendent gold. Yep, that was definitely a bond.The kid was anything but scared, as he caressed the dragon's head, hugging it even.

Kudo smiled, shaking his head, hands over his hips as he took a deep breath, relaxing. The dragon was only letting him ride it because it knew that Katsuki was his bonded rider and Kudo was related by blood to the kid.

As years went by, the bond only became stronger and deeper. Kudo would ride it in battles, but once at home, the brat and the beast were like one. When Katsuki turned eighteen, Kudo retired from battles and settled down with a wife and kids at the village located next to that of where their family originally came from. From that day on, the brat became the dragon’s one and only owner.

Katsuki was the only human being able to control, care for and command this massive dragon, also becoming the nightmare of most villages in the world. Both, dragon and rider were vicious, deadly and feared.

You still remember the day Bakugou Katsuki landed on your lands. The bright blue sky suddenly turned dark, the huge dragon he rode clouding the sun above. Everyone knew what it meant. Destruction and chaos, the end of their peaceful lives.

The Leader of the village, your dad, didn’t waste time in trying to negotiate a truce between them.

And that truce is you.

You are forced to marry him, to leave your family, friends and life there and go with this barbaric man. You are a bit afraid he is some sort of savage. Rumors told how violent he was, how scary he looked with his scars and aggressive attitude towards everyone. Now that you have said man in front of you, you agreed with all of them.

You were expecting him to manhandle you, to treat you like another woman he picked to use for his own pleasure. Yet all you received since you stepped foot in his village, in his home, had been nothing but coldness and distance. He has kept to himself, doing his stuff and trying not to get in your way. Least to say, it has been completely awkward since the ceremony.

When you are getting ready for it, his mom enters his-your hut. She smiles, a sincere feeling in her eyes, “Being the daughter of a Leader sucks, ain’t it?”

You look down, a slight smile on your face that agrees with her but eyes filled with tears you’re holding back. “It does.”

You feel her hand on your shoulder, and the little squish she gives it in reassurance makes the knot in your throat tighter.

“My son is not a charming prince; however, I know the kind of man I raised him to be. You’re gonna be okay.”

You don’t say anything in response. You don’t even look back at her, but you think she didn’t expect it either as she walks out, leaving you alone. As you walk towards the entrance, fully knowing that once you cross it, your soon to be husband will be waiting at the end of the aisle, all you can wish is that Ms. Bakugou is right.

When the ceremony reaches its end, the old lady of his village drawing the symbols of union, love and family in your foreheads, Bakugou extends his hands for you to lay yours over his. You still haven’t looked him in the eyes, but you do what's expected for the ceremony. When your hands touch the skin of his, you can't avoid thinking how warm they feel. Big calloused, rough and strong hands surround yours, and you don't hate the feeling. On the contrary, it’s quite comforting. The old lady ties a beautifully white and gold silk ribbon around your hands, symbolizing the union of the souls.

While everyone cheers, you finally decide to raise your eyes towards him. Deep red eyes collide with yours, making a shudder run your body at their intensity. Surprisingly, it isn’t a bad feeling, but it is something you have never felt before.

A tingly feeling swirls in your stomach as you realize Bakugou Katsuki's face is getting closer and closer to yours, his intent clear. He is going to kiss you. Your first kiss. You close your eyes instinctively and his lips touch yours in a quick and short peck. Yet it feels like all the tingles in your stomach exploded, sending warmth throughout your whole body.

That has been the only close and physical interaction you have had until today.

Bakugou Katsuki decides to give you space to accommodate and get to know his village and people around.

It doesn't mean he doesn't want you. However, he never makes any sort of move towards you.

Until one day…

Bakugou got back that morning to the village after being away for almost four days with the victory of conquering another village, so you decide to bring him some of the sweet bread you have cooked as a welcome back. You have to admit, this time with him since the marriage ceremony hasn’t been bad. Civil, even. Despite his distance and cold attitude, he has never disrespected or forced you to nothing. Not even that first night as husband and wife. He didn’t even try, he simply picked one of the pillows and clothes to make a bed on the floor, closer to the entrance door, and slept there. You have been very confused. Your mum had previously told you everything of what was expected from a woman on the night of the ceremony. You expected even a fight between you two, because of course you didn’t want that to happen with a complete stranger like he was still to you.

Nevertheless, he never hovers over you. But you do feel his eyes on you whenever he’s around. He always makes some sort of sound for you to acknowledge that his presence is close. Katsuki is attentive to your reactions whenever you are both alone and doesn't even raise his voice at you. Ever.

Then again, he is his ruthless self with everyone else.

You tried looking for him around the village, but couldn't find Bakugou anywhere. So you walk towards the woods where you know the dragon's nests are, where they rest. Even though Bakugou has explicitly forbidden you to go near there, due to the danger their dragons were most of the time, even for the riders.

You are confident Katsuki will be there, so probably he will see you from a distance and you wont need to get that close. But when you arrive, you come face to face with the massive beast: Bakugou's dragon, Cweorth.

You have seen it at a distance, but having the beast up close is a completely different experience. Its whole body is red, with golden piercing eyes that feel very much like Bakugou’s itself. Its wings are huge as they spread in a stretching movement up high, almost taller than the big trees that surround the woods. You can even see some flare of gold in its scale that actually looks mesmerizing. Majestic.

Your basket falls to the floor in shock when the beast finally looks down at your small, minuscule being. It watches you intently, with a scowl on its face –like beast, like owner. But far away from feeling scared by it, you feel intrigued. You feel enamored even as you stand there, looking at such majestic creature.

Bakugou is actually several meters away, taking a bath in the lake close to the nests, cleaning all the blood and dirt off his body before going to the hut he shares with you. He has some scratches and cuts from the fights, but nothing deep or worrisome. He is very proud in saying he is the fucking best out there.

When he's walking through the woods back to the nests of their dragons, he sees it.

His whole body freezes. You are standing there, your arm and hand stretched upwards. His own dragon, the one who eats men like candy at Katsuki's own command, the one who has burned villages in seconds with his strong fire, the one who hates anyone’s touch or closeness that isn't Bakugou himself... His dragon has his snot close to you, letting you pet him with its eyes closed, enjoying your affection like a small puppy dog.

And he can not fucking believe what his eyes are seeing.

Of all the women he has had before you, none were brave enough to even look at the beast. They had all been afraid to death.

And there you stand, looking even fascinated by it. Eyes shining and smiling as you feel for the first time what its skin is like under your touch. You look… beautiful. Gorgeous. Heavenly sent. Fuck. You have him in your hands already.

Bakugou Katsuki then decides:

He will fucking kiss the ground you walk. He will give you everything you ask of him.

You want certain clothes to wear? He will search for them for you. You want certain foods? He will fly his dragon to wherever they are made or grown on. You want a land? He will fucking burn every single thing or life it takes to give it to you.

You want him? He will gladly give himself completely to you.

Well, he already is.

[myhornysaga]

If there's ever a conversation in context of you or you and Keegan, there's 4 words that are always present in the sentence... 'crazy, psychotic beautiful bitch'

You and keegan are nothing but a messy 'couple'(?) Heck you two are both insane. For crying out loud, you married him the evening he was leaving for his deployment, he was 21, you were 19. After that deployment his entire life and personality changed.

He would never talk about what happened in that deployment, neither any of his colleagues did. All you knew was something really bad went on there and he lost most of his teammates.

The marriage started to turn sour due to Keegan's sudden PTSD/panic attacks. And they were bad. Its something you never told anyone or ready to talk about.

Needless to say in almost 2 years of your marriage, it ended as abruptly as it began, all on a whim.

The reason keegan's teammates started calling you crazy is due to the fact you just stomped into the Marines base on a fine tuesday to drop the divorce papers. Keegan had a 36 hour shift that day.

And that is how you both divorced.

Everyone thought you both are on your different path now, with someone new. Keegan's friends tried to encourage him to find 'some other chick' or 'plenty fish in the sea' or saying that you were toxic anyway. The boys did their best to encourage the man who got divorced so publicly.

But all their 'encouragement' went to waste.

As it turned out, as soon as keegan's shift ended, he came to the abode which was two days ago a marital home and you both had verbal fight which turned physical in under few moments...

"I CAN'T do this SHIT anymore Keegan", you screamed at him.

Your ex husband has always, by nature, has been quiet man. Only speaking when spoken to and only speaking if necessary.

But on god you ARE something else! You make this usually quiet man want to scream his throat out.

"Couldn't you have waited ONE FUCKING DAY for the divorce?!" He growled.

You two sweared like sailors at each other and then you came a little close to his face pointing your index finger, trying to look intimidating.

Your finger pointed towards him so close triggered his PTSD. He immediately grabbed held your finger then tricep and then he threw you onto the ground on your belly while your arm behind your back.

It all happened so fast you couldn't grasp what even happened. All you knew was your right arm was hurting a little and keegan was on top of you.

Shit. Its started. You know this is one of his panic attacks! You have seen it before but this was new. This has never happened in midst of a 'conversation'.

"Keegan? Babe? Its me y/n babe you need to calm down its just me", you started frantically calm him down. Your chest hurts due to his weight on top of you.

Keegan was in a daze, all that was going in his head was how all his squad died on that fateful day. How he hid under the corpse of a Sargeant, covered in that dead man's blood in order to look like corpse.

He snapped out of it the moment he heard your voice and rolled off of you and laid on the wooden floor with his hand on his chest, heavily panting as if to grasp as much air as possible.

You were finally free of his weight and quickly got up and saddled on him and started to calm him down by gently patting, caressing his face. You started to kiss him.

"It will be okay babe, I'm here, im right here. Its okay, you're safe now." You whispered into his ear while peppering him with your warm kisses.

He was back. He opened his arms to hug you and happily gave in.

He hugged you tight.

"I'm sorry y/n", he mumbled.

And since then, despite being officially Ex husband and Ex wife, you still live in his house and still sleep with him.

Your bond has become more stronger than when you two were 'married'.

You two still fight, but it always ends up in a rough makeout session.

Keegan's teammates will never get why Keegan is with you. But then again, even they know nothing beats 'the crazier the better'.

--------------------------------------------------

M.list

[arts-bloody-rose]

Blood of A Rose - Part 3 (Art the Clown x Fem!Reader)

Masterlist

Summary - As (Y/s)’s life blends into Art’s, she struggles to keep hold of her sanity with his influence as others continue to test her patience.

Notes - Shit’s getting juicy, y’all 🤌🏻 Let me know if you would like to be part of the tag list or have requests!

Word Count - 3,107

Warning(s) - Violence

Song Inspiration -

The Pretty Wild - Sleepwalker

The days bled into weeks, the weeks into months. As the bond between them grew stronger, so did the resemblance of (Y/n) in the abandoned building the clown called home. And with it, so did she. 

With much convincing, Art allowed her to make the bedroom her own safe space for when she spent her time there. With that being said, it also meant that if anyone other than either of themselves entered that room, there was no telling what that somebody would suffer through. 

Sure, it wasn’t as if it was common for others to wander into the building, and that alone would be a death wish. But anything that invaded what he considered to be her sacred grounds was subject to punishment of the highest degree. 

With countless hours of cleaning and rearranging, she was able to finally get rid of the dust and grime, save for a few particularly stubborn spots. And of course, the floors and walls were still rotted and peeling, but after getting a can of paint, roller brushes, and a pan, she figured it would be close enough to decent. 

With Art’s help, he opened the can of egg-white paint for her and carefully poured it into the pan, happily doing so with a large grin. Once he poured enough for her, he set down the can of paint and straightened himself up. 

“What?” (Y/n) asked him innocently when he looked at her mischievously. Then she noticed the hand behind his back. “No.” She warned him playfully, holding a finger out to him. 

He snatched her wrist and she shrieked as he launched his hand out from behind him, smearing what she assumed was paint onto her face. As the cold substance touched her lips she gagged and kept her lips tightly shut, refusing for it to get into her mouth anymore than it already had.

Meanwhile, the imp that was Art keeled over in silent laughter, slapping his thigh and mocking her gagging as she ran out to the basin in their work area before the paint dried up to clean it off. She dried her face and it flatlined as she glared at Art. He simply shrugged with a half-assed apology written on his face, letting her storm past him back into her room to start painting.  

The experience was peaceful, other than the rocky start and the fumes. Nothing could have prepared her for the fumes. The room wasn’t large and the building had no ventilation or filtering to protect her. The single window was broken and boarded so it wasn’t as if she could open it. 

Her stubbornness was unforgiving as she pushed through hours of work to get everything done, fueled by her excitement to turn the room into her own. 

The effects the smell had on her body didn’t hit her until the tail end of her painting as she finished the second and final coat of the remaining wall. 

(Y/n) practically threw the paint roller into the pan, taking a deep breath when her head began to spin. She was aware enough to mind the wet walls, but couldn’t stop herself from swaying. After a significant wave of disorientation, she leaned - or rather fell - back against the doorframe, her head thumping loudly against it in the process and only worsening her headache. 

With her eyes closed, her head spun as she heard the sound of rushed and heavy footsteps growing nearer, louder before they came to a halt beside her. She felt quick taps on her shoulder, light at first. 

No response. 

The next set nearly shoved her into the wall and her eyes sprung open, looking over at Art who had a panicked expression, his hands motioning around the both of them with haste. 

(Y/n)’s eyes began to close again as she waved him off weakly. “M’fine. Just dizzy.” She slurred and heard him stomp his foot. 

He suddenly bent down and picked her up bridal-style, taking her out of the room and outside to an old bench sat along the side of the building. He sat down and cradled her on his lap, albeit begrudgingly as he huffed and puffed to himself at the minor heart attack she caused him. 

As her head rested against him under his chin, she began to recover enough to know she would be fine to stand. But with equal mischief, she pretended she was still ill just to stay in his arms for a little while longer. 

The days following, Art was generous enough to help her bring in brand new furniture which they transported by a worker’s van - which he still hadn’t disclosed to her its origins - and the room was finally beginning to look decent. 

The process was interesting, to say the least, as far as putting the furniture together went. They both sat on the floor, Art eyeing the new tools that came with the pieces and picking them up in interest while (Y/n) read through the directions. 

What caught her off guard was how handy Art really was. 

After she had finished reading through the first bit, she began to look back and forth between the directions and the pieces in front of her to start the dreadful process. It wasn’t until she was halfway through putting the dresser together that she began to grow frustrated, sighing heavier than usual as she took off another piece that was incorrectly placed. 

Art looked over, sensing her frustration, and shooed her away from it. He took the tools from her and left to grab his own. When he returned, he sat where she had been and began to put everything together with ease while (Y/n)’s jaw dropped in both irritation and awe. 

No directions. No guidance. Just Art doing what Art did. 

Within fifteen minutes, the dresser was perfectly complete and he stood, presenting it to her with a large grin and flare of his hands while (Y/n) deadpanned. 

���You waited.” She accused grumpily and he proudly nodded. 

He then mockingly pouted at her and stepped his way over, squeezed at her cheeks and patted them before kissing her on the nose. 

“Okay, I forgive you.” She mumbled, unable to stay mad at his adorable mannerisms. 

With furniture complete, (Y/n) began to bring over some of her belongings and necessities. Clothes, toothbrush, toothpaste, bed sets, a lamp and then some. He helped her without hesitation, mostly because he wanted to snoop around her house and bring back some of what he found for himself, but she accepted and appreciated the help nonetheless. 

After a week, the whole room had completely changed. She could now call it her personal safe space, her home away from home. 

“Art look, it’s finished!” She called to him from the doorway, looking into her room. He practically ran over to her with shared excitement, his face resembling shock. He clapped and jumped up and down, then blew a kiss into the room to compliment their work.

Art then turned to (Y/n) and kissed her cheek, baring a look of mischief before he ran into the room and jumped onto the bed. She crossed her arms and gave him a pointed look, but once he star-fished with childlike glee her face softened and she chuckled. 

The hideout was nearly their permanent place of residence once the room was finished. She would stop by her house once or twice a day to check her mail or take a shower to freshen up. Her actual house very well turned out to be her new home away from home, finding an odd sense of comfort in the decaying building knowing that it belonged to the clown she so loved. 

With how busy they had been with their little project, Art had built up a strong urge to wreak havoc. (Y/n) had her own urge, however significantly less violent. She would only ever be found guilty by association. 

Or so she thought.

Following the familiar itch, Art tinkered away at one of his new inventions when they could finally rest after the more chaotic week. (Y/n) sat with him, staring at the latest newspaper that had been delivered earlier that morning to her house. 

The usual sting rose in her abdomen as her eyes skimmed over the words of an article covering her work: disturbingly grotesque, lacking depth, pure shock value. 

Each phrase felt like a hammer striking her soul, chipping away at the confidence in her work while Art was left to pick up the pieces. Her fingers tightened around the edges of the paper, crumpling it slightly. Suddenly, in the back of her mind, something stirred. Something darker than frustration.

She realized that her initial reaction wasn’t just sadness. It was anger. Uncharacteristic of her individuality, it simmered, threatening to boil at any moment. 

She grew antsy with the unfamiliar feeling and stood up, crumpling the newspaper and snatching a match from the workbench. 

Art watched incredulously as she struck the match and lit the article ablaze, dropping it into a nearby steel bucket on the floor and letting it burn. 

Her exterior was eerily calm while her thoughts began to rage and cause turmoil. She looked over at Art who continued to stare and her eyebrow twitched in contained irritation. He simply lifted the new weapon off of his desk and showed it to her with a sadistic expression. 

Over time, (Y/n) began to notice how the fits of frustration became more common. What used to be a simmer had indeed grown into a boil and only became harder and harder to contain, though she did it well. It’s what made her dangerous, and what intrigued Art further. 

No matter what was going on through her head, she somehow always remained calm and collected. Time and time again other’s words and interactions with them made her seethe beneath her facade, yet nothing ever came out of it from her. 

She had always avoided conflict, either by completely disassociating from it or just letting Art handle it in his own way. What they didn’t know was what went through her head in those moments. 

For the past few months, she’d noticed a change. Subtle at first, but soon became impossible to ignore. As she stood silently in her anger, her mind thought up of ways to release that rage. Whether it was ramming a bat into a TV or slapping someone in the face, the images flooded her mind as an initial reaction. Almost as an impulse, coaxing her into giving in and finally acting on it. 

She wasn’t aware of it yet, but the line between her calm, introverted nature and the darkness lurking beneath had already begun to blur. And soon, she wouldn’t be able to tell the difference at all.

It was nighttime, as was routine for them, to go on their walk, which Art preferred to call their ‘hunt’. They decided to take a different route to town for a change of scenery, but (Y/n) would be lying if she said it wasn’t more eerie than their typical route. 

There wasn’t nearly as much lighting and the tall trees lining the smaller street casted foreboding shadows over them. But (Y/n) felt calm. Not only because it was an environment she was naturally attracted to, but also because of the figure walking alongside her. She could even go as far as to say she felt almost invincible with him. 

Just ahead of them, a darker figure seemed to have the same idea of having a walk. From the look of it, they grew closer, walking towards them. 

Art stopped in his tracks, staring at the man menacingly with wide eyes and a smile to match. 

The man felt a chill run down his spine at the sight, but decided to stupidly go against his better judgment as he took a sip from the beer bottle in his hand. 

“A little early to be dressing up for Halloween, don’t you think?” He laughed as he resumed his walking towards them. 

“How about you mind your business.” (Y/n) bit back. Art’s head snapped over to look at her with an expression of shock, hand over his mouth as she casually put her hands in her pockets. 

“You’re a snappy one! I like that.” He slurred with a drunken wink and her mouth curled in disgust. Art looked between the two of them with a mischievous grin. 

“Then you’ll love it when I smash that bottle over your head if you don’t keep walking.” 

“He might,” The man pointed at Art. “But I don’t think you will, sweetheart.” 

In the blink of an eye, the bottle was snatched from his hand and broke over his head just as she warned. 

Art bent over in laughter after his initial surprise wore off, pointing at the man now collapsed on the ground and mocking him by pretending to cry, hands twisting by his eyes. 

“Don’t call me ‘sweetheart’.” (Y/n) spoke flatly as she shook off the beer that spilled onto her hand from the bottle. “Do you have a rag in your bag, Art?” She asked the clown in a softer tone. 

He turned back to her and held up a finger for her to wait while his laughter continued, digging through his bag until he eventually pulled out a rag, albeit a bit dirty, but it would suffice. As (Y/n) dried off her hand, he pulled something else out and she turned away, the man screaming behind her not long after. 

She wasn’t sure what came over her at that moment, and Art wasn’t exactly a good influence. She had made one or two threats in the past couple of months when her intrusive thoughts started to get worse, but never had she acted on them. 

The most unusual part wasn’t that she carried them out, though. It was that she remained frighteningly calm before, during and after. As if it was second nature to her. 

An hour before the sun was set to rise, they made it back to what they called home. Art remained his bloody self, heading to their work  area while (Y/n) wandered into her room without a word, her demeanor just a shell of who she was as she thought of the night’s events. 

She took the camera off from around her neck and set it on her nightstand, sitting on the edge of her bed and staring at the rug below her. 

She wasn’t sure how long it had been before Art showed up and paused in the doorway. His smile dropped ever so slightly, leaving his eyes as his brow furrowed with concern. He walked over to where she sat and began to reach a hand out, hesitated, then touched her shoulder and quickly pulled away as if she had burned him. 

Her eyes slowly lifted to meet his gaze and using a finger, he motioned up and down at her figure in question. With no response, she only looked back down and he was aghast, flinching back with wide eyes. 

Art quickly looked around in a panic, fingers twitching with an unfamiliar urge and then quickly took a seat beside her. At first, his fingertips caressed her back. Then his arm reached around her shoulders and pulled her into his side, rocking the two of them soothingly. 

After a few minutes, he felt (Y/n)’s arms slowly wrap around his torso, leaning into him as her head nuzzled into his chest. 

“I don’t know what happened…” She mumbled in what sounded like disappointment. “It just came out of nowhere, hardly even any provocation.”

Art tapped at her back and she watched as he stood up in front of her. He mimicked exaggerated anger and pointed at (Y/n), then flared his hands at the empty space beside him, an imaginary person. He pointed at her again and gave her two ‘ok’ symbols, telling her that it was okay and that she did a good job. 

“You don’t think I overreacted, do you…?” Art started to feel relieved when he noticed her usual, gentler side with him begin to show again. 

He aggressively shook his head, slicing his arms over each other to give a firm ‘no’ and (Y/n) sighed.

“I’ve just been becoming more angered with things that used to only cause me pain. Those urges have been in my head more frequently recently and that was the first time I’ve ever acted on it. I feel conflicted after, but in the moment it just felt right .” 

She looked up at Art with pleading eyes, but his smile remained and he lifted his hands to grab her cheeks. He pulled away and balled up his fists, gritting his teeth in feigned anger and motioning to what was around him with a sigh of relief. 

“If I hold it in, will it just get worse?” (Y/n) asked genuinely. 

He nodded his head and pointed at her. She looked off in contemplation as Art eagerly waited, fingers tapping against each other. 

“I guess I could try and see how it goes.” Art clapped and shuffled closer to her, taking her head and leaning into it to kiss the top of it, then patted where he kissed. 

Over the next few weeks, she decided to stick to her word and let the now impulsive thoughts take over. She hesitated at first, but Art nudged her inconspicuously from beside her when he noticed and prompted her to follow through. 

Depending on how much the person had angered her and what was nearby for use, it ranged from ramming their head into a wall to simply kicking them in the groin. But she never went further as that was Art’s part of the fun, and she never wanted to deprive him of such joy. 

It still felt strange at first, to say the least. But the more she gave in, the less she thought about it and just did it . The strange feeling turned into relief, the relief turned into satisfaction, and the satisfaction turned into pure pleasure . 

In doing so, (Y/n) gained a certain level of understanding as to why Art loved what he did. She would never torture as he did, if at all. And she still refused to watch. 

As she embraced the new aspect of herself,  they formed a newfound respect for each other. More than what they had before, which they never believed could be greater than what it was. 

Tag list: @callsignwidow @hoe-for-daddywise

[suudbe]

hi! i hope you don’t mind me asking but what happened with Akatsuki? im very out of the enstars loop so i feel a bit lost in understanding what all is going on 😅 feel free to ignore me if you don’t want to explain!

No problem at all! I'll explain to the best of my ability.

Recently, Enstars added 5 new idols. One of the new idols is Taki Ibuki and he is from Okinawa and is Ryukyuan. When Japan colonized the Ryukyu Kingdom, they forced the people to assimilate into Japanese culture. This process is called Japanization.

So, when rumors came out about the Ryukyuan character Ibuki possibly joining Akatsuki, a unit focused on Traditional Japanese aesthetics, people who know that history immediately called out the implications of writing such a thing. The head writer is known to write indigenous characters disrespectfully, but surely he wouldn't go this far?

It's been stated in several Akatsuki stories that Keito, Kuro, and Souma want it to only be them. There is a heavy emphasis on them having a bond stronger than blood. This is gonna be a one-off collab that leads to something bigger maybe Ibuki will go solo! Literally anything else BUT this please.

What followed was a story that mischaracterized every Akatsuki member. It was like all character development was reversed, for Keito, it seemed like he was a completely different dude.

The Enstars official twitter released a message to "Please not spoil the last few chapters for at least 4 days ���" they've never done this to my knowledge. It was blatant damage control for the shitstorm they had created themselves. Ibuki was brought into Akatsuki. What followed the next few hours were QRTs in all different languages absolutely GOING IN on Happyele, as they should. I saw so many people mourning the future of the franchise, many more leaving altogether, so much sadness and anger.

People connected the dots of releasing a Rei along with the event, since he's very very popular, and also announcing the PJSK collab. These would build up hype so maybe people would overlook it or it would draw them back in or some shit.

If I'm to sum it up in one sentence I'd say that Akatsuki was blatantly mischaracterized so they could fit their racist narrative of Indigenous people being "primitive" or "fixable" and needing to assimilate into Japanese culture.

Hopefully I explained the gist of it, I have a hard time phrasing and I've been told I explain things a bit unorganized. Here's a link to a twitter thread that most certainly explains way better than I could and two Wikipedia links that helped me learn.

A thread by @/gitsunegal on twitter written Oct. 10th when the rumors started. The last tweet in the thread is after the announcement, Jan 3rd.

A Wikipedia article on Japanization, contains summaries of not only Okinawa but also other areas that experienced Japan's colonization.

A Wikipedia article on the History of the Ryukyu Islands, I'd like to specifically point out the section Okinawa Prefecture, 1879–1937. Starting at the section Battle of Okinawa, the article discusses heavy topics such as rape, violence, and death.

If I missed anything or if any information is inaccurate please feel free to correct me or add on.

[starringthesturniolos]

bite me (part 7)- Matt Sturniolo

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

summary: matt hates your guts but all of that changes when he wakes up and finds out your his mate.

contains: vampire!matt x reader, highschool au! (18 years old), dark themes, death, smut (not in this part)

i wake up, pain etched in every fiber of my being. i rip off my covers to find my stomach with three gaping, bleeding stab wounds. I try to scream but no sound comes out. Hands reach me and i faintly hear nicks voice in my ear before i black out.

i come back to my senses again, with the same pain in my abdomen but my surrondings are different. theres trees and grass everywhere. i crane my head to the side to see matt laying there, and panic rushes through me when I see his wounds. wounds that exactly mirrored mine. “matt” i whimper, i fight through my pain to reach him. i shake him until his eyes flutter open weakly. his skin is paling from blood loss and i grab at the wound on his skin to try to stop the blood flow. “what happened?” i ask feeling nicks presense behind me. even though my eyes were on matt, the question was directed towards him.

“he got stabbed by spell bound knife by some random guy who clearly has a some kind of vendetta against us.” he pauses and i can hear him sniffling. “i just hope he's going to be okay, I've never seen a vampire bleed like this." his voice breaks and he tries to take a stabilizing breathe. "madi will be here soon” he says more to himself than to me.

I couldn't even respond to what nick was saying as my vision starts to blur. i grip matts wound tighter in hopes that he won't feel the way I do now. “you have to take care of yourself too” matt says weakly while peering at my equally grotesque wound. I look into his eyes and a fresh wave of pain comes over me but in this moment it's just us. everything else stops. “I can’t live without you matt.” I whisper, tears falling down my face. "so what's the point?", I sigh. even though the statement was supposed to be a reminder of the one of the conditions of the mating bond that still applies , it sounded more like a confession of some sort. like I didn't want to live without him. a surge of pleasure and a warm feeling passes through me that I don't recognize as my own. matt's eyes are clouded when he looks at me and i can tell he can feel my sadness and fear. we can feel each others emotions which can only mean one thing. “i think our spell broke” I whisper. matt smiles softly at this before his head falls limp and his eyes shut again. I panic and try to slap his face gently to wake him up. I turn to nick who is already heading our way, eyes widened with fear.

when nick reaches matt he grabs him and shakes him hard so hard my grip on his wound almost slips. “matt, matt, no, matt, you have to stay awake! you can do this!" hes shouts as he tries to get closer to matt. he presses into me to do so and my body reels in protest at the added pressure. I feel him shaking with adrenaline and fear. “madi’s almost here matt come on!” fear for matt and my own excoriating pain continues to encompass me but i can no longer keep my eyes open. i fall into nicks side, blacking out for the second time tonight.

———————————————————————————

“got there just in time, your lucky” a voice I recognize as Madi's speaks up. once again, my surroundings are completely different and I am in a unfamiliar bedroom I can only assume is Madi's. "didn't even know there were spells you could put on weapons, let alone ones that are strong enough to kill vampires." matt mutters and you shutter at the sound of his voice. the mating bond feels even stronger than before you had come to Madi's. you open your eyes in search for your mate, and your body becomes desperate when you see him. you go to get up, but your stomach screams in protest. matt is by your side in a flash coaxing you back down into the bed gently.

"slow down! shit, that hurt me!" he says. you stare at his all too attractive face and feel warm all over. "I was so worried, I'm glad you're okay." you whisper. His eyes mirror the warmth you felt and he offers you a gentle smile. "yeah kid, I could say the same. Madi got there just in time, healing potions in hand. they were strong, but not strong enough to heal your wound completely." he says to me quietly. once again his voice compels me to get closer and feel his touch. to feel him.

"did the spell break?" Madi ask inquisitively while walking over to your bedside slowly. I break out of my trance to answer her "yeah I guess you could say that" I laugh a little at the odds, all this supernatural stuff still sounds so weird to me. "must have been the near death experience." matt finishes.

"no. that's not how it works." Madi says matter of factly. "okay, well did you do the spell wrong or what?" matt snips and I chuckle. matt hates not being in the know and he has no idea what's going on at all times. "control freak" I think to myself.

"nooo, I did it right" she responds smiling at his annoyance "one -or both- of you fuckers feels different then you did before. THAT is why the spell broke." she says looking from you to matt in amusement. "what do you mean "different"?" I ask genuinely curious. matt must be thinking the same thing because his eyebrows are furrowed. its like matts way of saying "what the fuck is going on" without actually saying it.

"what I mean is" Madi pauses which adds a dramatic effect.

"someone is in loveee." she practically sings in happiness.

silence ensues after that. matt looks at me and I look at matt. we both blink before turning back to Madi and shaking our heads at her. but even as I do so, I try to think deeper.

I did think about him a lot, as of the past few days, he's been on my mind all the time, even with the side effects of the bond dormant. he makes me feel so many things, and he makes me lose my composure. composure that I work so hard to maintain. worst of all, I know for a fact I've shown him sides of me that I've never shown anyone, a vulnerable softer side. A side of me that cries and wants to be comforted. a side I vowed to never show anyone, but with matt, it came out whether I wanted it to or not.

maybe, I am in love with matt. maybe, I am just too afraid to admit it.

Madi looks at me with knowing eyes and I hear her voice in my head. "it's okay, y/n. it's safe for you to love him. he's your mate after all" she winks. "heyyy, I didn't know you could talk telepathically!" I say with a big smile on my face. smiling because I had a new friend, and smiling because she is right. we may not always get along but Matt's always been safe. he's shown me that over and over the past two days, he protects and comforts me without second thought. "yup its a new trick I learned" she responds mirroring my smile.

" you said something to her in her head?" matt looks at her then shifts his eyes to me, waiting for me to give him the details. I know that he wants to know but I want to keep my little secret a secret for now. at least until I find the right way to say it, so I stay silent. "well what the fuck did she say to you??" matt says, taking your silence as me not realizing he was waiting for me to tell him. me and Madi just look at each other and burst out laughing at his annoyance. "um, hello!" he speaks over our laughter and we laugh even harder.

"okay, whatever." he scoffs. "I still don't get it, why does someone's feelings changing affect the spell you cast?"

"because mating bonds are strong in and of themselves. the spell I cast was just strong enough to condense it. but anytime feelings grow, the mating bond grows stronger as well. wether its just one or both of you who caught real feelings, it affected the bond. so of course, the spell broke as it could no longer contain it. you guys are on your own now, there's nothing I can do for you anymore." at the last part matt groans in frustration, "fuck" he growls. my heart pangs at the rejection but I try to ignore it. Madi just frowns at him before speaking again. "mating bonds are natural, matt. I tried to help you before because your my friend but its over now. its time to get serious, stop feeling sorry for yourself." she scolds turning around to leave the room, but she stops once she reaches the doorway.

"and matt, you know what's going to happen next. take her home and take care of her. " she says to him over her shoulder with intensity. fear runs down my spine. what's going to happen to me I think to myself as I stare at Madi's retreating form. matts in my vision now and he picks me up from off the bed. " I already know your going to ask what's going to happen now so I'm just going to tell you" he licks his lips and looks down at me. "after the mating bonds been present for 3 days" he pauses as he tries to find the right words. "the woman goes into heat" my mouth flies open in shock. is this is why he wanted to get rid of the mating bond as soon as possible?? what does it even feel like to be "in heat". a million questions ran through my head, as he says what I already knew next.

"which means your gonna be in heat any minute now, y/n." his eyes cloud with lust.

"and I'm gonna be the one that gets you through it."

@bbernard-03

@sturnthepot

@hoeformatt

@sturtriple16

@faygo-frog

@sturniol0s

@katie-tibo

@cindylcuwho

@I34n

@chriwssv4amp

@sturnslimited 

@minhlajenni

[marifilue]

Part 6: Thin Thread

Pairing: Logan Howlett x F!Mutant!Reader - Slow burn, no use of y/n.

Summary: You're an X-Men member with regenerative healing ability and skilled marksman. On a routine mission with the team things take a drastic turn when a mutant-inhibitor collar is forced onto you, leaving you vulnerable, unable to heal. With no quick fix in sight, Logan becomes your reluctant anchor, helping you get through each day as you fight to survive, unexpected bond with Logan begins to grow, one that becomes far stronger than either of you could imagine.

Warnings: Explicit language, Violence, Blood

WC: 7,7k

<- Part 5

The morning greeted you with a dull, relentless headache that pulsed at your temples, a buzzing ache that had been your unwelcome companion through the night. You’d tried ignoring it, relying on the painkillers Logan had slipped you last night, but the reprieve had been temporary. Now, as the sunlight filtered through your blinds, the ache roared back, louder than before.

You sat up in bed with a groan, pressing your fingers to your temples in a futile attempt to soothe the pain. A glance at the clock on the nightstand made your stomach drop. 9:00 a.m. Shit. You were supposed to be up an hour ago.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you shuffled to the bathroom, splashing cold water on your face to wake yourself up. The mirror reflected the exhaustion etched into your features—the dark circles under your eyes, the faint sheen of sweat on your forehead. You pushed the thought aside, finishing your routine quickly before heading downstairs for breakfast.

The kitchen was quiet, the usual chatter of students absent, leaving only the hum of the refrigerator to keep you company. You grabbed a bowl of cereal and sat at the counter, eating mechanically, the food doing little to ease the fog in your mind. By 10:00 a.m., you were already bored, the monotony of your restricted days weighing heavily on you.

With the collar limiting your abilities and activities, Charles had given you a break from teaching. “Take the time you need,” he’d said. You hadn’t argued. A day off, especially one where you weren’t feeling well, wasn’t something you’d pass up. But now, with nothing pressing to do, you found yourself wandering the halls aimlessly, searching for a distraction.

The library called to you like an old friend. The quiet space had always been a sanctuary for you, a place where the noise of the world faded into the rustle of pages and the scent of ink on paper. It wasn’t the same as your old life, back when you’d spent hours organizing shelves and helping readers find their next favorite story. But it was close enough.

You stepped inside, the familiar stillness wrapping around you like a warm blanket. The rows of books stretched out before you, their spines a comforting reminder of simpler times. Running your fingers along the shelves, you let your mind wander, the weight of the headache momentarily forgotten.

One title caught your eye: 1984 by George Orwell. Your fingers hesitated before plucking it from its place. The worn cover felt familiar under your touch, the pages yellowed with time. You’d read it before, years ago, but something about it called to you now. A story about control, about power, about losing oneself to forces greater than you, a theme that felt all too real these days.

Clutching the book to your chest, you left the library and stepped into the yard. The afternoon sunlight was bright but not overwhelming, the kind of warmth that invited you to linger. You found a quiet spot under a large oak tree, far enough from the students that you could sit undisturbed.

Settling into the grass, you opened the book, letting its familiar words draw you in. The headache still pulsed faintly at the back of your mind, but here, surrounded by nature and the quiet murmur of life around you, it felt manageable.

For a little while, at least, you could lose yourself in the pages, in the world Orwell had created, and let the weight of your own reality slip away.

The memories drifted through your mind like whispers from another life. You could still picture the shelves of your old job, rows upon rows of books arranged just how you liked, each with its own story, waiting to be found. You’d been happy there, in that quiet space, finding purpose in your work as a librarian. But your father had never seen it that way.

“Wasting your potential,” he’d say, the disgust clear in his voice. To him, every day you spent outside the military was another day you failed him. He couldn’t fathom why you’d choose books over bullets, college over combat.

You were supposed to follow in his footsteps. He’d trained you to handle a rifle from a young age, pushing you to perfect your aim until you could shoot as easily as you could breathe. He’d always wanted you to enlist. When you turned 18 and told him you wanted to study English, to build your life in your own way, the disappointment in his eyes had been searing.

Nine years passed. You’d found your own stability, your own peace, a steady job, an apartment you paid for yourself. You kept your distance from your parents, seeing them only on occasion, which kept the resentment at bay. But when you visited them that day, you hadn’t known your life would take a turn.

You still remembered the way your father had mentioned it over thanksgiving dinner, casual and offhanded, as if it were nothing. “I’ve got a friend coming over tonight. Wants to talk to you about an opportunity.”

That “friend” had turned out to be Dr. Emmy Killebrew, a name you would come to loathe. His glasses caught the light as he studied you, his expression unreadable but oddly pleased, like he’d found exactly what he was looking for.

“We’ve got a guy in the Marines who could use your particular skills,” he said. “It’s just a two-year contract, short and simple. Your family could really use the money.”

The words echoed back now, a dark, hollow promise that had lured you in. You’d wanted to help your parents; you’d agreed, believing it would be a standard military experience. Six months of training, intense, but doable. You thought you’d be home soon, maybe a little stronger, with stories to tell.

But instead, the injections had started.

There had been no way out once they began, no choice in the matter. They told you it was necessary, part of a new program to build “better soldiers.” You remembered the searing pain of each injection, the way it tore through your system, altering you, until you could feel it in your bones. Your father’s betrayal hit you harder than any training ever could. They’d manipulated your DNA, spliced it with something beyond human, the Wolverine's genetic material. You didn’t fully understand it at the time, but within weeks, your body began to change.

You were no longer just a soldier. You were a mutant, immortal, nearly indestructible. You could heal from any wound. The realization had terrified you. But to them, it was a success, proof that you were now a weapon, unbreakable, expendable, and no longer your own.

The sharp snap of fingers brought you back from the haze of your mind. You blinked, momentarily disoriented, the yard of the X-Mansion coming into focus around you. Afternoon light filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows over the green grass. Logan was standing in front of where you were sitting, one eyebrow raised.

“You’re lost in there, varmint?” he asked, his gruff voice tinged with something like concern.

You scowled, brushing the memory away. “Stop calling me that.”

You stood up clutching the book, avoiding his gaze. The children in the yard caught your eye, some of them whispering to each other as they watched you. Some looked sympathetic, others fearful, their expressions reminding you of the weight of your condition. You glanced away, not wanting to see the pity in their eyes.

Without a word, you turned, walking toward the open expanse of the lawn, hoping Logan would leave you alone. But he didn’t. You heard his footsteps a few paces behind you, steady and unrelenting.

“Jean asked me to get you,” he said. “she and Hank needs to see you in the lab.”

You stopped, shoulders tensing. The last thing you wanted was to go back inside, to face whatever new test or evaluation they’d thought up for you. But you had no other choice. With a sigh, you turned, reluctantly heading toward the mansion. Logan kept his distance, letting you lead the way, but you could feel his presence, a steady shadow.

As you neared the doors, you heard more whispers from the students who lingered nearby. Their eyes followed you, wide and nervous. You caught a few of their words, murmurs of sympathy mixed with fear, as though they were hoping they’d never end up in your position.

Logan threw a sharp glance at the kids, his expression darkening. “Get back to class,” he ordered, and the whispers stopped instantly.

With clenched fists, wishing you could forget the eyes on you, forget the memories that still felt so fresh.

As you walked straight back to the library, the book still clutched in your hand. Logan followed close behind, his boots echoing against the polished floors. He couldn’t seem to help himself, his gruff voice breaking the silence. “Where are we going? They need to see you in the lab.”

“I’m putting the fucking book back!” you bit out, lifting the book over your shoulder for him to see without turning around. Your tone was sharp, your frustration bleeding through. You didn’t care if it sounded rude—your patience was wearing thin.

Logan snorted, clearly unfazed. “Shit, whaddya have for breakfast? Bees?”

You knit your eyebrows together, ignoring his remark as you pushed the library door open and stepped inside. “What do you care? Stop following me like I’m gonna fall on the floor any second,” you shot back, your words clipped.

Reaching the shelf where you’d found 1984, you slid the book back into its spot with more force than necessary. The neat rows of books, once soothing, only served to agitate you now. You turned on your heel, intent on leaving the library and Logan behind, but he wasn’t letting this go.

“You look like you’re about to,” he said, his tone dropping the playful edge and adopting something more serious.

You froze mid-step, glaring at him over your shoulder. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t move, just stood there watching you, his expression unreadable. Something in his gaze made you uneasy—not pity, but something close to concern, and it only made you want to push him further away. Without another word, you stormed out of the library, refusing to let him see how much his words rattled you.

As you walk through the mansion’s hall, you heard a small voice calling your name. It was familiar, one you’d heard just a few nights ago. You looked up, and there she was—Maya, the little girl you and the team had rescued from one of Killebrew’s facilities. She ran toward you, her short legs carrying her as fast as they could. Barely reaching your waist, she threw her arms around you in a tight hug.

Maya looked so much healthier than the day you’d found her, her face glowing with a newfound vitality. Smiling, you knelt to her height, returning her embrace with a gentle hand on her back.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her small voice laced with concern.

You managed a soft smile, touched by her care. “I’m okay, Maya. Do you like the school?”

Her face brightened, eyes sparkling with excitement. “I love it! I have two BFFs now! ‘Best friends forever,’ they said!” She beamed, and you reached out, stroking her cheek and running your fingers through her long hair. The relief of seeing her safe, healthy, and happy here filled you with a warmth you hadn’t expected.

"Yeah? What are their names?" You smile widely

"Ellie and Carter!" She exclaimed, announcing her new two BFFs to you.

“I’m happy to hear that, sweetheart,” you replied softly. You squeeze her shoulder gently. She glance down at the collar around your neck and place her tiny hand on the cold metal.

"What is this for?" She asked innocently. You sell her another smile this time didn't quite reach your eyes. "It's something like a necklace, but not a good necklace. I'm goin' to take them off." You told her reaching his arm on your collar. “I need to go now, okay?” You said as you rise from your knees.

Maya nodded, waving her tiny hand as she backed away. “Bye-bye!” she chirped, a sweet, innocent grin on her face. You waved back, matching her smile. “Bye, Maya.”

As she turned, she saw Logan standing a few steps behind, watching the two of you. She greeted him with a cheerful, “Bye, Mr. Howlett.”

He gave her a nod, his gruff voice softening as he replied, “Bye, kid.”

For a brief moment, you caught the look in Logan’s eyes as he watched Maya skip away down the hall. Something flickered there, a warmth, a tenderness. But as quickly as it appeared, he turned his attention back to you, that familiar, steely expression returning.

You walked through the winding halls of the X-Mansion, descending the staircase toward the basement. Logan was still following a few steps behind you. His heavy boots echoed softly against the polished floors, a constant reminder of his presence. You couldn’t help but wonder why he was trailing you. Surely, you could handle this on your own—Jean and Hank were waiting in the lab, and whatever test needed to be done, they had it covered.

Unless...did Hank need Logan for another one of those dangerous tests? The kind that required someone who could withstand extreme damage? You tried not to dwell on it, focusing instead on the approaching double doors.

As you entered the lab, the faint hum of machinery filled the air. Both Jean and Hank turned their heads as you arrived, their expressions tight with concentration. Jean offered a small, reassuring smile, but Hank’s focus was on a small device in his hand—a thin, rectangular chip that fit neatly between his fingers.

“Take a seat,” Hank instructed, gesturing to the chair in the center of the room.

You sat down, feeling Logan’s presence just a few feet away. He leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, but his sharp eyes missed nothing. Always observing, ready to step in if needed.

Hank moved closer, holding the chip up for you to see. “This is the latest iteration. It’s designed to interface directly with the collar’s locking mechanism. If it works, it should override the suppressive controls.”

You nodded, a flicker of hope sparking in your chest. God, you wanted this to work. Four days of living with your powers suppressed, your body weakening, and that persistent ache in your head, it had been pure misery. You gritted your teeth, refusing to let the desperation show, but deep down, all you wanted was an end to this nightmare.

Jean placed a comforting hand on your shoulder as Hank moved closer to the collar. “Just stay still,” she murmured.

“Got it,” you replied, your voice steady despite the tension tightening your throat.

Hank worked carefully, sliding the chip into the thin slot along the collar’s edge. The device emitted a faint beep as it connected, and the three of you waited, watching and listening for any sign of change. Seconds stretched into what felt like hours. The collar remained silent.

Hank frowned, his brows furrowing as he adjusted the device. Still nothing. “Come on,” he muttered under his breath, his tone tinged with frustration. He pulled back slightly, checking his equipment. Jean leaned over to assist him, her telekinetic abilities lifting tools to his side as they inspected the chip.

“Is it supposed to take this long?” Logan’s gravelly voice broke the silence.

“It shouldn’t,” Hank admitted, his voice tight. “But these things are notoriously difficult to bypass. I thought—” He stopped, exhaling sharply. “I thought this would work.”

You sat there, staring ahead as the hope you’d clung to began to fade. Jean placed her hand on your shoulder again, her touch firm but comforting. “We’ll figure this out,” she said softly, though the strain in her voice betrayed her own frustration.

“I know,” you said flatly, your hands gripping the edges of the chair. You exhaled slowly, trying to keep your emotions in check.

Hank straightened, looking genuinely apologetic. “I’ll go back to the drawing board. There’s still more we can try—”

“No,” you interrupted, shaking your head. “Not today. I need...I just need a break.” You said as bringing your finger again to rub your temple.

Jean and Hank exchanged glances, unsure of how to respond. Logan, however, stepped forward, his sharp gaze locking on yours. “Then take one,” he said simply. “You don’t have to sit here feeling sorry for yourself. Hank’ll figure it out. You just focus on holding up until then.”

It wasn’t the most comforting thing anyone had ever said to you, but somehow, it helped. You nodded, slowly standing from the chair. “Let me know if you make any progress,” you said to Hank and Jean before heading toward the door.

Logan didn’t say anything as he followed you out, but the quiet strength of his presence was enough to steady you, at least for now.

You paced back and forth in the kitchen, the glass of water in your hand trembling slightly as you brought it to your lips. The headache was relentless, a dull thrum that echoed with every beat of your heart. You knew the painkillers Logan had given you earlier had worn off, but you weren’t about to ask for another. Not with him looming behind you like an immovable shadow.

Logan leaned against the counter, silent but watchful, his arms crossed over his chest. His presence only added to your growing irritation. You didn’t need his pity, and you certainly didn’t need him following you around like some overprotective watchdog.

The sound of footsteps broke the tense silence as Storm walked into the kitchen. She glanced between you and Logan, her expression curious but calm. “Good, you’re both here,” she said, her voice firm but warm. “Charles wants us in the meeting room. It’s important.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples as if the motion could banish the ache in your head. “Can’t it wait?” you muttered.

Storm’s gaze softened slightly, but her tone remained resolute. “It’s urgent.”

Logan pushed off the counter, his boots scuffing against the floor as he straightened. “Let’s go, varmint,” he said gruffly, his tone almost teasing. Almost.

You shot him a glare but said nothing, setting the glass down with more force than necessary before following Storm out of the kitchen. Logan trailed behind you, his heavy footsteps matching yours as the three of you made your way to the meeting room.

As the three of you walked down the hall toward the meeting room, Ororo turned her head slightly, her brow arching in curiosity. “What is a varmint?” she asked, directing the question toward you.

You shrugged, your tone dry. “I don’t know. Ask Logan.”

Ororo’s gaze shifted to Logan, who smirked and muttered your name. “She is. She’s a varmint.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

Ororo’s lips quirked up as she observed the exchange. Something in the way Logan’s smirk lingered and the way you rolled your eyes told her everything she needed to know. You two were a fifty-year-old and a hundred-seventy-year-old mutant, yet somehow, the two of you bickered like high schoolers.

She chuckled softly, the sound low enough for only the two of you to hear. Both of you snapped your heads toward her, your glares sharp enough to cut through steel.

“What’s so funny, ‘Ro?” Logan growled, his tone defensive. “Nothing,” Ororo said smoothly, though the amused glint in her eyes betrayed her. “Absolutely nothing.” You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes. “Didn’t sound like nothing.”

“Mm-hmm,” she hummed with a knowing smile, turning her attention back to the hallway. “Let’s not keep the others waiting, shall we?”

Logan muttered something under his breath, and you let out an annoyed huff, but neither of you pressed further, though the irritation simmered between you like static electricity. Ororo, on the other hand, kept her quiet amusement to herself, thinking that perhaps this tension was more entertaining than it should have been.

The meeting room was brightly lit, the long table surrounded by familiar faces. Professor Xavier sat at the head, his serene expression tinged with quiet determination. Ororo took a seat to his left, while Scott stood at the opposite end, a tablet in his hand. Logan pulled out a chair next to you and sat down, his proximity both grounding and irritating.

Scott cleared his throat, tapping the tablet to project an image onto the wall behind him. It was a grainy photo of a familiar figure: Dr. Emmy Killebrew.

“We’ve got a lead,” Scott began, his voice clipped and professional. “Killebrew was spotted in Manhattan last night. Intel suggests he’s attending a private gala tomorrow night, hosted by the Manhattan Medical Research Society.”

“What kind of gala?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended.

“A high-profile event for medical professionals,” Scott explained. “The guest list includes pharmaceutical executives, genetic researchers, and biotech innovators. Killebrew’s name wasn’t on the list, but sources confirm he’ll be there.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Logan asked, his tone low but focused.

Scott glanced at the professor, who nodded before continuing. “We’ll infiltrate the gala and confront Killebrew directly. The goal is to extract information—discreetly if possible, but we’re prepared to use more... aggressive measures if necessary.”

You shifted in your seat, the headache pounding harder with every word. Before you could stop yourself, the question slipped out. “Do you even need me for the mission?”

The room fell silent. All eyes turned to you, and for a moment, you wished you could take the words back. But you didn’t. You held your ground, even as Scott’s expression hardened.

“No,” Scott said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “This mission requires precision and subtlety, and you’re not in any condition to—”

“Then why am I even in this meeting?” you interrupted, your voice rising. Frustration flared, both at Scott’s dismissal and the relentless pounding in your head. “If you’re not going to let me help, maybe just leave me out of it!”

“Enough,” Xavier’s calm voice cut through the tension like a knife. His gaze was steady, his tone gentle but authoritative. “You’re here because this mission involves a key figure in your past, and we believe you deserve to be informed. That said, Scott is correct. This is not a mission you should undertake.”

Your hands curled into fists under the table. You wanted to argue, to demand that they let you go, but the professor’s words left little room for debate. Instead, you leaned back in your chair, exhaling sharply as the tension in the room eased slightly.

Scott continued, his focus shifting back to the group. “Logan, Ororo, and I will handle the infiltration. Jean will provide remote support. The priority is information. We need to know what Killebrew’s planning and if he’s connected to any larger operations.”

You tried to focus on Scott’s words, but the room felt stifling. The headache pulsing in your skull grew sharper, your breaths shallow. The walls seemed closer, the lights too bright.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice cut through Scott’s explanation, and you stood abruptly, the scrape of your chair echoing in the room.

“I—uh—please continue,” you said, your tone soft but hurried. “I just need some air.”

Without waiting for a response, you stepped out of the room, your pace quickening as the door slid shut behind you.

Logan’s gaze didn’t leave you, his eyes locked on the door long after you’d disappeared. His expression was unreadable, but something flickered behind his sharp features.

Outside, you leaned against the cool wall, closing your eyes and focusing on your breathing. The tension in your chest loosened slightly, but the frustration remained. You hated the way they dismissed you, how powerless you felt, and most of all, how much you wanted to prove them wrong.

Back inside the room, Scott exchanged a brief glance with Logan. “We should move on,” he said, though his voice held a tinge of unease.

Logan didn’t respond immediately, his jaw tightening. Finally, he muttered, “You all know she’s tougher than you think,” before shifting his attention back to the plan, though his thoughts lingered elsewhere.

The equipment room was filled with the familiar scent of gun oil and steel. It was your refuge, the one place you could let your thoughts quiet and just be. You moved between the racks, your fingers grazing the cool metal of various firearms until you stopped at the DSR-1.

You grabbed the rifle, hefting its weight and feeling the sting in your side flare. The dull ache from the wound still hadn’t eased after four days, making you limp slightly as you adjusted the weapon in your hands.

“Fuck,” you cursed under your breath, the frustration bubbling up as you hung the sniper rifle back on its rack. Heavy footsteps echoed from the hallway.

Logan stepped into the room, his presence unmistakable. “Knew I'd find you here” he said, with voice low and steady.

Your focus was on the DSR-1 still on its rack. “I was on sniper duty with this gal,” you said, your tone distant. “DSR-One. Guarding George H.W. Bush. Back in the 90s.”

Logan raised an eyebrow but said nothing, letting you continue.

“He was visiting New York. I was stationed on one of the tallest buildings, just watching, waiting for a threat.” You traced a finger along the rifle’s edge. “Long hours. Quiet, but tense.”

Logan nodded slightly, his eyes not leaving you. After a moment of silence, he spoke. “If you really want to go on the mission tomorrow... I could convince the team. As long as you’re under my watch.”

You froze for a second, the offer catching you off guard. It wasn’t what you expected from him. Intriguing, maybe even tempting. After all, it was a simple gala—just find Killebrew and get information. You’d already thought of ways to hide the collar, like covering it with a scarf.

But reality set in as quickly as the idea tempted you. You shook your head, more at yourself than at him. “No, that’s dumb. I can’t risk the team any further.”

Your gaze landed on a Mini Uzi. Its compact frame was sleek and practical, perfect for your current state. You picked it up, sighting down the barrel with ease, satisfied with how manageable it felt.

Logan’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if he could see through the lie you just told yourself. “Well,” he said with a shrug, “I just thought you could use a night out.” His nonchalance was infuriating and, somehow, comforting.

“Ridiculous,” you muttered, shaking your head at his suggestion, though you couldn’t deny the flicker of interest it sparked in you.

Logan smirked faintly, stepping aside as you moved toward the door. “Just say the word.”

You shot him a look "No." As you kept walking, heading to the indoor shooting range.

The muffled echo of gunfire filled the indoor shooting range as you fired the Mini Uzi, each shot sharp and precise. Your arms were steady, the stance you’d perfected over years of experience still second nature. The paper target at the far end of the range was riddled with neat, tight clusters—proof that, even with an annoying wound and a relentless headache, your accuracy remained impeccable.

Logan leaned against the doorframe behind you, arms crossed as he watched in silence. His eyes weren’t just on your shooting. If eye-fucking were a crime, Logan would’ve been guilty without a trial. The way you stood, with both arms raised, your figure outlined by the loose t-shirt tucked into your jeans, the sweats on the back of your neck made Logan notice a visible mark there.

With your hair in high ponytail, he stare the mark, it was a tattoo. But also looked like some codenames, he can't see clearly but they're a few bunch of random numbers. It held his attention far longer than it should have.

The faint dip of your waist, the slight shift in your stance as you adjusted between rounds—it drove him mad in a way he couldn’t quite name, and the way those jeans hugging your hips didn’t help. He’d never admit it aloud, but he’d lost track of how long he’d been staring.

The last of the bullets left the barrel, the magazine clicking empty. You lowered the Uzi and set it down, your hand instinctively rubbing at your temple. The gunshots noise didn't exactly help your headache, in fact they're worsen now.

“You should really ask Jean to look into those migraines,” Logan said, breaking the silence. His voice was flat, casual, but his eyes hadn’t softened from their earlier intensity.

You jumped slightly, startled by his presence. “It’s not a migraine. Just a headache,” you snapped, dismissing him as you turned to put the Uzi back in its place. “What are you still doing here?”

“Watching,” Logan said, shrugging lazily. “I like guns.”

You turned a sharp look over your shoulder. “No, you don’t. They’re not even your style.”

He smirked, the kind of smirk that made you want to wipe it off his face—or kiss it off. You couldn’t decide which. “Who are you to judge what my style is?” he countered smoothly.

You rolled your eyes, turning away again as you began walking out of the shooting range. He followed, his boots heavy on the floor behind you.

“Oh boy, does It not written all over your face,” you said, voice clipped but teasing.

“Really?” Logan asked, his tone carrying a challenge now. “Tell me, then. What is it?”

You stopped abruptly, swinging around to face him, your hands on your hips. His sudden stillness told you he wasn’t expecting you to turn.

“You think guns are toys,” you said evenly, holding his gaze. “A joke.”

Logan didn’t reply immediately, his expression unreadable. You could see a flicker of recognition in his eyes, though. Part of what you’d said rang true, even if he wouldn’t admit it. Guns weren’t his style—they never had been. He’d always relied on raw power, his claws, and the ferocity that came naturally to him.

“You don’t respect them,” you continued, your tone a little sharper now. “You think they’re a quick fix, a lazy shortcut. Like pulling a trigger is the easy way out instead of doing the work. You think it’s all about power, but you don’t understand what it takes to handle a weapon. Guns are precise. They’re not for show. They’re tools for survival. But you, you think they're some kind of crutch. You think they’re for people who can't fight their own battles face to face.”

You paused, watching his reaction. He didn’t say anything, but you could feel his resistance, like you were pushing him into a corner he didn’t want to be in. “Thought so,” you muttered, half to yourself, but you knew he’d heard.

But there was something about the way you held them, the precision in your movements, that gave him pause. He didn’t know if it was respect, admiration, or something much more dangerous but whatever it was, it had him hooked.

His eyes lingering on your retreating form. You didn’t look back, but you felt his gaze like a weight on your shoulders.

He stood there for a moment longer, trying to decide whether to chase after you or let you go. But then he finds another reason to jab about, to chase you again wherever you go this time. He wants you to get checked. He's worried, or maybe even cares in the oddest way.

As Logan followed you into the medbay, the sharp scent of antiseptic stung your nose, mingling with the sterile chill of the room. You moved with purpose, throwing open cupboards and rummaging through their contents with a single-minded desperation. Your fingers tore through boxes and bottles, pushing aside anything that wasn’t what you were looking for.

Painkillers. That was all you needed.

The buzzing ache in your skull was relentless, a cruel reminder of your vulnerability. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt anything like it. Not after being thrown across war zones, not after enduring blasts that should’ve killed you. Back then, nothing had fazed you. But now, your head throbbed, sharp and insistent, as if mocking you for being weak.

Behind you, Logan entering the room, observing the frustration clear all over your face. His sharp eyes followed your frantic movements. He hated to ask, but he could see it—the way your hands shook as they rifled through the shelves, the tension radiating from your rigid posture.

“Are you okay?” His gravelly voice broke through the silence, laced with something unfamiliar: concern.

You didn’t stop, didn’t even look at him. “No!” you snapped, your voice sharp and raw. “Fuck, this headache is driving me crazy. I… I can’t even” You broke off, shoving another drawer closed with more force than necessary.

You kept moving, invading every inch of the inventory as frustration clawed at your chest. “Where the fuck is it?” you muttered, your voice trembling with barely restrained anger.

Logan stepped further into the room, his boots heavy against the tile. He scanned the shelves calmly, his sharp instincts making it easy to locate the bottle you so desperately needed. Without a word, he pulled it from its place and turned toward you.

“I can’t fucking do this anymore,” you said, your voice cracking as you slammed another drawer shut. “I hate it. I hate being h-” Before you could finish the sentence, a sting in your throat deepened, and for a moment, you froze, your hand gripping the edge of the counter to steady yourself.

Logan stepped closer, holding the bottle of pills in front of you. “Here,” he said simply, his tone steady.

You glanced down at his hand, at the label reading Painkillers, but didn’t reach for it. The tears you’d fought so hard to hold back began to blur your vision. Logan’s eyes met yours, his gaze unwavering, and something in the quiet strength of it made the walls you’d built start to crumble.

“You hate what?” he asked, his voice softer now, coaxing. His eyes stayed locked on yours, searching for an answer you were barely holding onto.

Your throat tightened, and you shook your head, your hand finally trembling as it took the bottle from him. “I hate being human,” you whispered, the words escaping before you could stop them.

There it was. The admission hung heavy in the air, as raw and unfiltered as the tears that threatened to spill.

Logan didn’t flinch. He didn’t pity you. Instead, he nodded slightly, like he understood. “I know,” he said quietly, his voice low and steady. “But bein’ human ain’t all bad.”

You scoffed bitterly, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand before they could betray you further. “Feels like it is right now.”

He leaned against the counter, his rough exterior softening just a little. “Bein' human is bearable, when you don’t have to carry this alone, y’know. Let someone help for once.”

You looked at him, startled by the sincerity in his tone. His expression was unreadable, but the weight of his words lingered, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected.

“I’ll think about it,” you muttered, shaking a pill from the bottle into your hand and swallowing it dry.

“Good,” he said simply, straightening up. He stayed close as you leaned against the counter, waiting for the pain to ebb. “You needs to get checked for those headaches.”

“Maybe tomorrow,” you said quickly, hoping to end the conversation. Logan wasn’t having it. “What about tonight? After dinner.”

“Why the rush?” you shot back, trying to mask the fear bubbling beneath the surface. The idea of knowing made your stomach churn. You weren’t ready for answers, not yet.

“The sooner we know, the better,” Logan muttered your name, his voice gentler this time., and the way he said it made the tension in your chest tighten.

You didn’t respond immediately, letting his words hang in the air between you. Part of you wanted to argue, to push back, but the quiet insistence in his tone softened your defenses. “C’mon,” he urged, his voice low and coaxing. “I’ll keep you company.”

“What if Hank asks you to be the guinea pig for another experiment? I bet you won't be there.” you asked playfully, recalling the last time he got jolted by the electricity from your collar.

Logan’s lip twitched, but his tone was reassuring. “I don’t care. I’d still be there.” You raised an eyebrow, leaning slightly closer. “Did you secretly enjoy it? Being electrocuted?” He scoffed, his head tilting slightly as he shot you a deadpan look.

“Ha! Knew it! I knew you’d be one of those freaky masochists,” you teased, slapping his shoulder lightly with the back of your hand.

“That’s a little far-fetched, don’t ya think?” he grumbled, avoiding your playful accusation, though the corner of his mouth twitched in the faintest smirk.

The brief exchange pulled a smile from you, easing some of the tension lingering between you two.

With a heavy sigh, you finally relented. “Fine, after dinner.”

Logan’s lips twitched into a faint smile, his gaze never leaving yours. The intensity of it made you break the contact first, looking down as you pushed away from the counter. “I’ll see ya,” he said, his voice almost teasing but laced with relief.

You nodded, your throat tight as you headed toward the door. “See you,” you murmured, stepping out of the medbay and making your way to your room, trying not to think about what you’d just agreed to.

The team gathered around the long dining table, a comforting spread of food filling the air with warmth and familiarity. Charles was at the head, his serene expression softening as he listened to Hank animatedly discuss a recent breakthrough in his research. Scott interjected occasionally with skeptical questions, while Jean tried to keep the conversation light. Ororo added her own input with quiet humor, her calm presence a counterbalance to the lively exchange.

Logan sat across from you, his usual gruff demeanor softened by the glow of the evening. He wasn’t much of a talker during meals, but his sharp gaze flickered to yours more times than you could count. You tried to ignore it, focusing instead on picking at your food and chiming in when necessary.

“Logan, you ever consider shaving that beard?” Scott asked, smirking as he sipped his drink.

Logan raised an eyebrow, chewing deliberately before answering. “You ever consider mindin’ your own business?”

The table erupted into laughter, Ororo shaking her head as Charles chuckled lightly.

“You two are like oil and water,” Jean teased, her eyes glinting with amusement.

Logan’s gaze flicked to you again, and you felt your stomach tighten. He was watching you more than he should, and it wasn’t helping the creeping anxiety in the back of your mind.

The meal ended too soon for your liking, and as the others began to drift away, you found yourself trying to stall. Rising to your feet, you looked to Ororo, who was gathering plates. “Here, let me help with the dishes,” you offered quickly.

Ororo raised a brow but handed you a stack. “If you insist.”

Jean passed by, placing her glass in the sink. “Don’t forget about your check-up,” she reminded you, her voice tinged with gentle concern.

You hesitated, focusing on the plates in your hands. “I’ll be there in fifteen,” you said, keeping your tone light.

Logan knew immediately what you were doing. He's still sitting by the dinner table, his arms crossed. “You can’t keep puttin’ this off.”

“I’m not putting it off,” you replied briskly, focusing on scrubbing a plate. “It’s just a little delay. Fifteen minutes won’t kill anyone.”

Ororo glanced between you and Logan, sensing the charged air. She gave you a knowing look, a faint smile tugging at her lips as she patted your shoulder. “Alright,” she said lightly, though her eyes lingered on yours. “I’ll let you two talk. Maybe Logan can help with the dishes instead of lecturing you.”

The air grew heavier the moment Ororo left, leaving just you and Logan.

“You’re scared,” he said, his tone calm but insistent.

You clenched your jaw, scrubbing harder at the dish in your hand. “I’m not scared. I just don’t like being in that lab. It’s not exactly my idea of a fun night.”

“You’re lying to yourself,” Logan pressed, standing from his seat. “You’ve been draggin’ your feet on this. What are you so afraid of?” He said as he walk closer.

You turned to glare at him, your fingers still gripping the sponge tightly. “I’m not afraid of anything, Logan. I just—”

“You just what?” he interrupted, his voice rising slightly. “You’re tougher than anyone else, but right now, you’re actin’ like a damn coward.”

The word hit you like a punch to the gut, and you slammed the dish back into the sink. “Coward? Do you have any idea what it’s like to think something might be wrong with you? To not be able to fix it? To not even want to know because you’re terrified of what you’ll find out?”

Logan didn’t flinch, his eyes boring into yours. “So, admit it. You’re scared.”

You hesitated, the words caught in your throat. The vulnerability was suffocating, but his relentless gaze refused to let you off the hook. Finally, you exhaled shakily, your voice breaking.

“Yes I'm fucking scared!” you confessed. “For the first time in my life, I’m scared...”

The silence that followed was heavy, the kind that pulled you under and made it hard to breathe. Logan stared at you, his expression caught somewhere between shock and something softer.

“Then let them help you,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Do this for the sake of yourself, you deserve to know.”

His words struck a chord, and you glanced away, blinking back the sting of tears. “I don’t know if I can handle it, Logan.”

“You can,” he said firmly, stepping closer. Muttering your name with his gravely voice. “And you will. C’mon, finish up here, and we’ll head to the lab.”

You sighed, picking up the sponge again.

Logan stayed close, leaning against the counter as you finished your task. His presence was grounding, even as your nerves buzzed with the weight of what was to come.

When the last dish was placed on the drying rack, Logan gave a small, almost imperceptible smile. “Let’s go.”

You nodded reluctantly, wiping your hands on a towel. As you walked toward the medbay, his steady presence at your side, you couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of fear and comfort. Whatever the outcome, you wouldn’t face it alone.

The lab was dimly lit, the hum of machinery filling the quiet air. Jean gestured for you to take a seat near the MRI machine, her expression calm but tinged with concern. You followed her instructions, lying back and allowing the machine to begin its scan. The cool metal beneath you felt impersonal, amplifying the knot in your stomach.

Halfway through the procedure, Hank and Charles entered the room. Their quiet murmurs with Jean were a background noise you tried to tune out. As the scan concluded, you sat up, waiting in tense silence while the machine processed the data.

Fifteen minutes passed like hours. You stared blankly at the ceiling, your mind a mess of chaotic thoughts. Across the room, Jean and Hank hovered over the printed results, their conversation too quiet to hear. You could see the shift in their expressions—the furrow of Hank’s brow, the way Jean’s lips pressed into a thin line.

Your chest tightened when their eyes flicked to you, their gazes heavy with hesitation. Jean finally walked the results over to Charles, who studied the scan in silence. He didn’t look up, his expression grim.

Logan, standing off to the side, watched the exchange. His body tensed as he stepped closer to the group, his voice low but demanding. “What’s goin’ on?”

Jean glanced at him, her words too soft for you to catch. Whatever she said made Logan’s expression darken, his jaw tightening as his eyes flicked toward you. Sympathy radiated from his gaze, and you hated it.

You couldn’t sit still any longer. You stood, your movements stiff as you approached the group. “What is it?” Your voice was sharp, demanding an answer.

Jean turned to you, the scan in her hands. She hesitated, as if weighing how to say what she needed to. “There’s... a glioma. A mass of cells growing around the right side of your brain.”

Your breath caught. “It’s a damn cancer, isn’t it?” you asked flatly, cutting through her attempt at a gentle explanation.

Jean glanced back at Hank and Charles for support. The professor moved forward in his wheelchair, his tone measured but serious. “Yes. We believe it’s a brain tumor.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Your voice came out hollow, stripped of emotion. “How long do I have left?”

Hank adjusted his glasses, clearly uncomfortable as he answered. “Approximately six months.”

Charles rolled closer, his gaze steady. “We’ll find a way through this. Don’t you worry,” he assured you, his voice calm but filled with determination.

Your chest tightened, your breathing shallow. The words felt distant, like they were happening to someone else. You wanted to break down, to cry or scream, but all you felt was a cold hollowness.

Logan moved to your side, his presence grounding even as your world spiraled. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there, his hand brushing yours for the briefest moment.

“You’re not facing this alone,” he muttered, his voice gruff but steady.

You couldn’t meet his gaze, afraid of what you’d see there. Instead, you stared down at the scan in Jean’s hands, the shadow of the tumor a stark reminder of what was coming.

“I’m dying,” you whispered, more to yourself than anyone else.

Jean stepped closer, her voice gentle but firm. “We’ll do everything we can to fight this. You’re not out of options.”

But you barely heard her. All you could feel was the weight of the diagnosis settling in, an immovable force pressing down on your chest. Logan’s hand finally rested lightly on your shoulder, the simple touch anchoring you just enough to keep you from falling apart.

For now.

Part 7 ->

[ender-cloud]

HOLY SHIT HYDE!!!!!

(See this is different from last week because it’s in all Caps)

I was hoping to move on to the next stage of grief but Hyde is still in the stage of Anger (for good reason) so Instead, the end will have my predictions for the Depression and bargaining stage.

But Anger lasting a while is realistic, some stages take longer than others do, so if anything it’s just good writing

Anger (Again)

I wouldn’t personally categorize this as just Anger, the Anger is mixed with the denial that Jekyll is serious. He still thinks this is a joke, a way to make him seem crazy, a way Jekyll can laugh at him.

Hydes anger is a stronger form of his denial, a more elevated version of it, he’s expressing his denial of the situation through his anger because he doesn’t want to accept it.

Thats Almost always true for the 5 stages of grief, in many cases Denial can be seen in Anger, Bargaining, and Depression, it’s no different for Hyde.

He looks almost crazy, the fact Jekyll is gone doesn’t make sense to him, it’s Jekyll, why would “perfect” Jekyll do something rash like this.

Now the entire point of Hydes anger last page was in hope to get control again, but this page his anger seems to take some control over him

Pounding on the mirror was clearly an impulsive decision done with little thought on what it would do, by trying to get the upper hand on Jekyll he just lost control of the situation even more until it was too late.

His emotions got the better of him, his fear and anger, he’s vulnerable, something he dosent want to be, it feels wrong to him and just makes it even a terrifying situation

Some general predictions:

Hyde will most likely panic next chapter, picking up glass as fast as humanly possible, blood probably dripping on his hands, i want this man crying and broken on the ground shaking

I feel like someone will walk in, theres no way that the lodgers and others didnt hear the glass crash, most likely, Lanyon will be first, yell at him for all that happened, asking where Jekyll is. Frankenstein would be next, then the lodgers

Rachel and Jasper wouldn’t be there, I think Rachel is crying somewhere else (perhaps the roof where her and Jasper first had their bonding conversation 👀👀) Jasper would either be looking for her or comforting her

If they did hear it they would be the last ones to the scene

Ok now my predictions for how Bargaining and Depression is going to go

Depression

Personally, i think Hyde will go through the depression stage first, I think he’s going to look around at everything he broke, everything he has done, just to see Jekyll isnt there

He’ll be lost, not sure what to do, and curl up into a protective ball, a way to hide, he will break, not being able to hide the emotions anymore as they just start spilling out

Bargaining

Hyde has been Bargaining, has been trying to get control back, but I believe this is where it will all come to fruition.

I think Hyde will do something irrational, and what exactly is that irrational thing? I think he is going to drink the temporary death potion that Frankenstein has

He will think it will put him into the mind with Jekyll, we’ve seen this happen a few times, when Hyde was killing their body and during the new short story with Dracula.

By doing this he thinks he will not only gain control again but also bring Jekyll back. It will give him a sense of power knowing he was able to bring Jekyll back

But I don’t think it will work, I think he will fail, I don’t think Jekyll is going to come back and if he does I think it will only be if Hyde goes deep into the mind, therefore killing himself in the process.

Jekyll isn’t just going to give into Hyde but Hyde doesn’t know this

Jekyll will always have the upper hand, no matter what Hyde does it will never be enough

[vulnonapixes-dc-corner]

Remember when I told you all about the "Damian & Tim bonding fic, where Damian gets turned into a cat?"?

Well, I do.

I have two wips! One for a fic and the other is a small art sketch

"It's OK! You are OK! With me, you are safe!"

Tim hummed, as he gently rubbed the little fluff ball dry, making sure to clean its eyes and ears out in the process.

He had found it in a trashcan on patrol, all alone, shivering and seemingly abandoned.

The teen couldn't get himself to leave it there.

After all, he wasn't that cruel, and Damian would probably break his back again if he found out that he let an innocent animal die.

It meowed weakly, as he used two of his fingers to gently massage its stomach. He couldn't feel any swellings and injuries, so it should be fine. Hopefully.

"Hey, it's alright! We'll get some food into you and then you'll feel better."

The kitten looked too young to stomach solid food, so milk was it.

He knew that cowmilk was bad for cats, but almond milk should be fine, at least till he could get some special cat milk and wet food to ween the little one out.

After making sure that it was warm and comfortable on his couch, he made his way to his kitchen.

The search for some almond milk and a saucer to fill it in took him some minutes and when he returned to his living room, the cat was gone.

Gone was probably a harsh word, considering that he could hear some really pissed off growls from beneath his bookshelf.

It was quite impressive, considering that the animal making those sounds was barley bigger than his hand.

"Poor little baby, this situation must be quite scary for you."

He pushed the makeshift bowl next to the furniture, avoiding the sweep of tiny claws, before he all but collapsed on his couch.

Then he quietly cursed himself.

In the trouble of making sure that the kitty was alright, he had utterly forgotten about his own needs.

"I am such an idiot."

The vigilante forced himself back on his feet, as he glared at the couch.

Who knows what kind of toxins and germs he had gotten onto it now.

"You know, this totally ruins my whole week. I usually deepclean my furniture every Monday. But with all the blood and shit on my suit this can't wait."

He smiled gently towards the kittens direction, who had stopped growing when he started speaking.

"I will take a short shower, before cleaning the couch and taking my meds. Please try to drink a bit of the milk, alright?"

The teen was aware that the cat couldn't understand or answer him, but he wanted it to get comfortable with his voice

Soaking his suit in disinfectant, showering, checking his body for small injuries, going through his skincare routine, throwing his suit into the washing machine, getting a clean suit ready for the next patrol and starting up his textile-deep-cleaning routine took him nearly an hour.

It left him utterly exhausted and wanting to sleep.

But he still had to finish the cleaning, drink that disgusting, nutrien rich smoothie, take his meds and work on that case Duke asked him about.

His eyes wandered to the kittens hiding place and a smile appeared on his lips as he looked at the empty saucer.

"Good work! Eat a lot and grow stronger. "

The tiny head of the kitten popped out and Tim had to stifle his laughter at the animals unimpressed expression.

"Oh, Damian will absolutely adore you."

It meowed as Tim concentrated back on cleaning the couch.

"He is my little brother and he adores animals. I am planning to give you to him when the weekend comes around."

This was the safest course of actions for him and the one thing will guarantee a happy life for it.

The kittens eyes were watching him clean the couch, as he explained every step to it.

" Now we are just going to let the disinfectant soak in and let it dry. I'll take my medicine and then we'll try to get some more food into you! "

It actually came out of its hiding place when he brought out his yellow pill bottle.

Somehow, it looked as if he had offended it, as it meowed loudly at him to get his attention.

"This is just the medicine that I spoke about. I am sick, you know. A year ago, I lost my spleen due to an injury. I had a flare up a few days ago, since Steph decided to drop in unannounced. Its fine now though."

Steph had been hurt and he was the closest, so he was glad that she came to him instead of bleeding out somewhere.

But the fever he got afterwards was not so nice.

The kitty meowed, as it clawed at his leg, what was suprisingly painful.

"Whats the matter?! This hurts, you know?"

Tim picked the small animal up, as it growled angrily at him.

"You know. You kinda remind me of my little brother right now."

It had the same green eyes as him.

"You are even behaving like him right now!"

He smiled as it spitted in his direction, Biting and clawing at his hand.

Getting the hint, he gently placed it back onto the ground, where it quickly went back to his hiding place.

Tim couldn't help himself as he sighted, as he saw the blood running down his hand.

He needed to disinfect and bandage ut up as quickly as possible now.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

---------------------------------------------------------------------

"Jason, calm down-, i cant understand what you are saying if you scream like this!"

Damian glared at the teen from bellow his hiding spot, as he placed back and forth in his living room, his elder brothers voice screaming through the speaker of the phone.

It was pathetic.

No Vigilante, especially one that studied under his father, should allow someone to yell at them.

[wilsons-journey]

Neeve Wynther

Looks like someone never told us about his twin Sister.

Both were raised to serve and kill. Yet both deal very different with all the shit in their life - but in core, both are incredible stubborn, just in their very own way:

Valefor thrives on spite - "I was dragged to my worst place, and I won't give anyone the satisfaction of dragging me further down."

Neeve on the other hand thrives on optimism - "I've been at rock bottom, so things can only go up!"

(Special thanks to Rolan (BrightwingedBat) for putting it in these wonderful words)

More about her and Valefors relationship under the cut:

Despite connected in blood - they never really bonded. Until later in their life.

Neeve was ready to give her life to the idea only to live to serve and kill. She was good in that. Everyone praised her for her incredible skills, while Valefor struggled during their childhood.

She soon becomes a valuable asset to Israfils servants. She is happy to be a tool - that makes her useful and makes her seen. The urge to feel important to someone - no matter who - gets stronger after a seemingly stranger saved her life. The feeling she got out of this situation moved something in her view. At first she saw this as granted, because she is valuable. She is needed - nothing goes without her! Its later when she understands, it had nothing to do with her - that person just did, what he thought was right in that moment.

Some years later, when her brother once again entered the organisation, she learns how easily you can get replaced. She fails in a mission and Valefor was tasked to get rid of this mistake.

Valefor offered her to let her go - let her live. Even if they spend most of their life apart and barely knew each other, he hesitated to put his sister down. Neeve in her stubbornness refused this offer, thinking if I kill him fist, I prove my worth once again and can go back.

But she looses. Both siblings take some scars from this fight - Neeve more than Valefor (I decided some of his face scars are from her). The Scars in Neeves Face and the blind eye are the result of that fight. Also a scar on her head, covered by her hair, is from that day. Valefor knocked her out to spare her life.

This head injury sadly had some lasting effects. She experiences memory loss and nasty headaches from time to time, that also triggers bad memories/nightmares or even hallucinations. In best times the head injury just makes her zone out - completely forgetting everything around her.

From that day on she had to pull through some years of extreme memory loss. But this also helps her to develop to be her own person - not only a tool. The basic urge to matter to someone still remains.

At first she tries to force friendships. Later she tries to form friendships by favors like - I do this thing for you and you're my friend. But none of this ever feels real. Not like this vague memory she had of the moment this stranger saved her.

So her life becomes a journey to find a placeor someone that cares and sees her - the real her. During this time she works as mercenary and befriends a small merchant group. Her first real relationship, that might started on favors but developed with trust. From this group she received her new Name "Neeve". From that day she no longer goes by the name Valafar, that only gave her a bad feeling after the head incident.

Some years later, to a time when Valefor broke free from Israfil, she seeks him out, in hope to reconnect with him. She hopes their connection in blood matters - automatically giving them a meaningful connectiong.

This don't work out - not as fast as she had hoped for at least. Valefor initially refused to welcome her back in his life. He still sees the stubborn, competitive warrior in her, that only seeks to be better than everyone else. And in part it's still true. She wants to show everyone how awesome she is - how strong she is.

It's in another heated fight Valefor realized the true nature behind her behavior. But also the weight of his past action - he realitzed the permanent damage he had caused to her, when he tried to spare her.

This soften up the grumpy man,... and slowly accepting Neeve back in his life - accepting her as his sister. They still have to work through a lot - like Neeve still have to learn a lot about trust and empathy. But they will work through it - giving each other something back, they never able to experience - a family.

She will settle down near Valefor's and Kyings home and open a Forge, where she crafts excellent weapons and armor. And with the difference put aside, she and Valefor have the opportunity to become a powerful duo in combat. While Valefor is best in Meele, Neeve thrives in ranged combat - making these two very deadly to face.

So it's no surprise they soon or later train together, giving Kying some rest. Before that he had to help Valefor satisfy his urge to fight. Now the demon siblings can bash their heads, while also working on their relationship.

And funny lil sidenote: She will adapt Valefors passion for music. So you can see these two kick some beats together.

And I guess from that moment on, Neeve truly starts to be more herself. Doing things she enjoys without a second thought.

Some short facts:

Neeve real name was Valafar

She is AroAce

She is a Guardian like Valefor, casting cold / blue flames

She is also part Demon

She has Chains around her arms , she uses these as an extension of her weapon. She attaches her blades to these, to turn them into ranged weapons (similar to a Kusarigama)

like her brother, she cares little for food

Her passion is blacksmithing. She values a good crafted blade and goes nuts over hit. Its the only thing she truly understands

She believes: If you try hard enough, things will work out - with that mindset she often tries to force things, like reconnecting with her brother

Thats also makes her a try hard (perfectionist) - she tries to optimizing the shit out of everything.

[lovemyromance]

And while we're at it, can we talk about people saying "Azriel's darkness" this and "Azriel's healing journey" that 🤨

What does that even mean?

Man has emotional and physical scars from his traumatic childhood and that has obviously left him with some self esteem issues and insecurity.

That's just the standard for most characters in SJM's universe. They all have some kind of trauma.

How is he going to "heal" from that? Through... training...? Something he's been doing as a warrior for 500 years now?

Through training someone else....? Something which he has already done in ACOSF with Nesta and the priestesses and look at that, he's still as broody as ever.

The fact is, all the bat boys felt undeserving of their love interests.

Rhys was afraid he would never have a love like Feyre, never have a family that wouldn't constantly be hunted down.

And yet, Rhys healed through Feyre's love for him.

Cassian felt like he was a low born bastard, not deserving of someone who would wed a prince or duke like Nesta.

And yet, Cassian also healed through Nesta's love for him.

Azriel, again, feels so undeserving of love after his past trauma and his unrequited pining for Mor for 500 years. He doesn't even think about having children, or a future with Elain because he feels so insecure about himself.

Wouldn't it also make sense that his doubts, all his insecurities would also be healed through Elain's love for him? A love that she would choose over even a mating bond.

And before anyone says "Oh we're expecting Elain to be used as some pretty thing to heal him"... no? That's not what is being said.

Elain also has a choice here. She has made it very obvious she does not want her cauldron-given mate. She wants Azriel. Nobody is "expecting her to heal him" like it's so simple as waving a magic wand and poof! Healed.

But just as Feyre & Nesta chose their partners and helped them envision a more hopeful future, Elain will have the same effect on Azriel.

She's not here to "fix him". Whatever that means.

It has been foreshadowed countless times how Elain will surprise us when it comes to her true nature and personality.

She was more than capable of understanding Nesta, standing by her regardless of how many times Nesta bit back. She is stronger than she looks. She's not some pretty stupid thing that will see Azriel and run away screaming. She has a different kind of strength and I'm exhausted of trying to defend that ability to see the good in everything even when the world has gone to shit.

Something tells me she will see the blood on Azriel's hands, help lighten the burden on his shoulders, and find him beautiful anyways.

because that's romance PEOPLE 🫶🏼

[theoraclej]

THAT SEASON FINALE!

light, where to begin, a disjointed ramble of things I observed:

Dovie’andi se tovya sagain! - Mat said the words, he said the words!

And he made his own ashandarei! I hope he gets the raven-inlaid one though because I’m sure no one wants him running around with that dagger

And I know he’s going to get a massive S3 glow-up because he sees himself as MORE, now. Yay Mat!

RAND exploding the shit out of the Seanchan including Turak; nice way around his general lack of swordtraining which I’m sure will be remedied

Once the Heron, to set his path!

The interplay between Rand (and Lews Therin before him), Lanfear, Ishamael - they were besties in the Age of Legends, lmao!

I had expected the intro to be a high society polyam party they were attending, not the Sealing of Ishamael, 🤭

The Warder bond was beautiful, flowing, intimate, just what I imagined when reading these books some 25 years ago

I knew Moiraine was gonna say Lan was her better!

I’m so glad they’re back together though, legendary qpp

Nice to see the S1 intro sequence with the gorgeously woven Aes Sedai tapestry

I was a bit sad Nynaeve didn’t heal Elayne OR Rand but she DID swear to make Seta’s mother curse the first kiss her father ever gave her and THAT was cool

Hopper, my beloved! 😩 I would be chopping Whitecloaks too!

It was so satisfying to see Perrin obey his wolfly instincts already!

Elayne being the one to heal Rand’s wound was an interesting choice, and you can tell he was dazzled by her!

Book lines, book lines, book lines making me have conniptions every time one was uttered

“From birth to death I serve the Blood.”

UNO I KNEW YOU WERE COMING YA SHEEP-GUTTED MILK DRINKER

“For the Light, and Shinowa!” still gave me chills even without an expanded story behind it for Ingtar

Egwene al’Vere. I hope she earns a title of “the Unbroken” someday. Remember, Nynaeve even said that about her when Egwene was captured by Whitecloaks in S1!

Egwene, spitting out the damane gag and refusing to rain down fire on innocents, ah my girl, that’s that Two Rivers steel

Egwene, collaring Renna and choking her to death, being stronger than Renna, being able to withstand the pain of that because that’s exactly what Renna taught her

Egwene later, with that amazing shield against Ishamael to protect her friends!

Lanfear pushing Lan and Moiraine out of the ocean Waygate was very unexpected but totally within Lanfear’s lane, just to keep Moiraine away from Rand

Lanfear working to sell the Seals to Bayle Domon, which was so lmao also, and it really enhanced her utter shock when she entered the room later with the Seals all broken.

M O G H E D I E N 🕷️

She is perfectly creepy, perfect in every way. I can’t wait to see her tear shit up, or to see how she will be used in S3 and beyond

Never expected her to cage Lanfear in her webs, either, dang. Lillen Moiral wasn’t near so strong as Mierin. But we know some things are just Talents, and Moghedien is better in Tel’aran’rhiod than Lanfear

Did you notice Rand’s wound swirling with evil bits throughout the healed part? Really cool effect if you catch it

Aviendha, Bain, and Chiad showing they can fight just as well in close quarters in a city as in the Three-Fold Land; and then later acknowledging Rand as Car’a’carn

Though I’d hoped we’d get some good old He Who Comes With The Dawn in here too

Moiraine’s outstanding torpedo weaves that fucked up the Seanchan boats! And she understands the stakes - if the Dragon is gentled, or harmed, or captured, everyone’s life is in danger and that includes her and Lan

Anyhow fuck the Seanchan

Did it look like Suroth got blown up too? Does that mean she’s dead? I guess we’ll see who gathers in the scattered remnants of the Hailene!

The first “I’m not Lews Therin” from Rand

Mat taking a moment to mention Rand’s “shit hair” to Perrin while they were in the mix, lmao

That shadow ashandarei is really scary, it is a laser knife (lightsaber?) on a stick

I can’t wait for Perrin and Hopper to meet again in the Wolfdream

Speaking of which, I think Perrin’s eyes are permanently golden now

I cried at the coming of the Heroes of the Horn, I’m sure many of you did too 😭

Cool Hero fighting effects, I liked those

BIRGITTE SILVERBOW MY LOVELY

I figured Min’s vision of Mat “killing” Rand would be something like this, an accident, not an intentional thing

His blood on the rocks of Shayol Ghul…

AL’LAN MANDRAGORAN, the Uncrowned King, Sworn to the Flame, bonded again, fighting as he was meant to, just slicing through armies, snatching arrows out of the air and stabbing people with them, chef’s kiss

I wonder if Nynaeve’s “failures” and inability to channel at these vital moments will give her the drive to break her block

Ishamael’s channeling at the end was really impressive, a testament to how much more he knows than Rand

I hope that’s not the last we see of Fares Fares, he was remarkable as Ishamael and a truly enjoyable villain

And since they didn’t have the Dragon banner of Lews Therin Telamon found with the Horn like in the books, Moiraine saw to it that he was heralded with literal fire

This I can imagine many people seeing from far away, and of course rumor travels further

The Falmen sure seem to appreciate it and of course the Seanchan are gone for now

Lanfear asking the LIGHT to protect Rand at the end is something interesting and NOT LOST ON ME

I REALLY ENJOYED IT and am looking forward to a full rewatch of S1 and S2!

Proclaimed across the sky in fire 🔥🐲

[the-dye-stained-socialite]

Elias' River-Blood

(sounds of whooping and cheering and excited hand slapping) So! Preemptively I will warn that this has spoilers for The Swan Bride ES! Also it gets put under a cut cause it's gonna be Long! I'm gonna sort this into 3 sections: How it Happened, How it's Maintained, and How it Affects Them!

How it Happened:

In the ES you help out the Swan Bride, and discover how and why she is what she is. You learn she was married to a second city Priestess in a poisoned pool in the Sere Palace, and bound to her and the rivers of the canals forever. There you have the option to allow the Bride her marriage to the Priestess, and to make the same sort of bargain the previous Gonfalonier made, and allow the Priestess to open your veins, and let the waters of the river Persephone flow through you. Your character dies and ends up going to a poison river instead of the slow river, and this is where the process happens, and you end up with the water (and specifically also the poison) of the Persephone running through your blood!! This also makes it much easier for you to win the race against the old Gonfalonier. I think it's implied that the reason the PC isn't bound to the canals like the Bride was is because the Priestess has the Bride now and is happy and content with that but... i like my blorbos possessive and this includes rivers, so. Also some parts of this ES were a touch confusing and hard to understand and I apparently didn't record all of it in my echos sadly!!!!

There's also parts where you can discover some of the lore and traditions of the Locks and it talks about guild members getting symbolically married to the waters!

(Okay so. this is the start of my oc specific speculation, meaning any of this can shift or change as I develop and thing of things further!)

How I interpret this for Elias is that they now are tied and married to the River Persephone itself, and with her waters flowing through them, they are bound to her. Not as strongly as the Bride, who was unable to leave, because i think the River knows Elias can't be contained and restrained, but it is more than nothing.

They were good at the Viol beforehand, but the Bride taught them much about it, and now it's one of their favorite forms of music.

Additionally, Elias was not nearly so KatTox focused before this. They had their work with the camera and developing chemicals on the Surface, but not much of the intimate knowledge. After I have them sort of taking her place a bit though, they have much more knowledge then before. This is when they went from esoteric ideas about the Neathbow, to actually studying its chemical properties and compositions, and becoming a pigment and dye-chemist! Before this they would mostly do field research, but had very little idea on what to actually do with that knowledge! This is when Elias got their dyes started!

How it's Maintained: Elias pretty much always feels the pull of the river, but it's akin to gravity. Most days they're pretty used to it, but some days it gets heavy and strong, and can't be ignored. The further they get, and the longer it's been since a visit, the stronger the pulls becomes, and the worse their symptoms can become (which i'll cover below). Elias must actually be upon the river for the pulling and tugging and Symptoms to subside, so just hangin' around the Locks without actually saying hello to their lovely spouse isn't going to work! They'll also often just. put their hands. in the poison waters. I think the river itself is already a bit thicker than normal water, probably being water, blood, and poison in equal measure. So most people would Not put their hands in that, especially because not wanting to risk the poison hurting them! (but also a little bit because of the whole blood thing.) Elias does this anyways because the poison doesn't affect them in the same way, because it's good bonding time with their spouse, they're a bit of a blood freak, and also they can do Fun Spooky Shit!

How it Affects them: okay fun stuff time!

So! Notably, Elias' blood is thinner than it should be! It is, in fact, nearly the same consistency as the River herself, because, well, it is! Just with a bit more blood in the ratio. About 50% blood, 25% water and 25% poison.

Having thin, watered down blood causes many issues! Notably:

Their blood does not clot easily, and when they're cut they bleed profusely and quickly. A lot of the time when Elias' wounds are high it's because they got injured and ended up very nearly bleeding out. They also lose... more blood than expected. If they were meant to have about 14 pints of blood normally, they can bleed out about 20 pints. This doesn't mean they *have* those 20 pints, moreso that the river is bleeding out a bit as well, and they are an open wound in the river.

Elias gets cold very easily, and their base body temperature already sits a little too cold for a human anyways. Luckily, moving water doesn't freeze as easily as still water, but the cold (and discordance) is still dangerous for them.

They're very nosebleed prone. If their emotions get a bit too intense (which is a common occurrence) then they can quickly end up with a very very long nosebleed. 50% luck check on if one happens or not. Usually they last an hour, and leave Elias completely wiped out afterwards. They work very hard to keep their emotions stable.

Elias also deals with anemia. Simply put, there is not enough blood in their blood! This means that while they have *fantastic* circulation, they still deal with cold limbs, light-headedness, and tire-ing very easily.

They also bruise very easily, and they'll take longer to heal

artery blood

There's also a few other quirks

Based on text mentioning the poisoned areas having 'brackish' water, this would lead to their blood being more alkaline than usual. More along the basic, higher end side of the PH scale, like baking soda, seawater, or bleach. The Swan Bride's dress trails through waters as a few points, and hisses and burns away, so! their blood is also lightly caustic (again, like bleach).

Elias' blood is also Incredbly Poisonous (which. i feel like should come up more frequently in game than it actually does, which is to say: this item has no recorded uses ;-;). There's multiple lethal toxins in the water! However, since Elias is diluted river, i think that (unless you're like. straight up drinking their blood) there's only three or four that you'd have to actually worry about, since you wouldn't be able to get a lethal dose of the other eight or nine (or so). Still, it's still likely to kill you if it gets In You, whether entering through a cut, liking a knife, or Elias making Decisions. (I have this idea of them using their blood's lethality on purpose against someone).

Elias also metabolizes toxins incredibly well! What toxins enter their bloodstream, their body takes them and stores them, and keeps them, similar to how caterpillars will consume toxic plants, and become poisonous moths! In order to properly poison them, you'd need to have something their blood cannot store, cannot keep around, or something that skips the bloodstream entirely and targets something else, like, for example, their brain and nerves. This is hard to do though, because this means the poison won't be able to travel well, so it would need multiple applications in different spots. After that though, it'll be easier to target their heart, and from there have something enter their bloodstream.

So what does all of that mean? Well. Thick leather gloves are a great idea around Elias. Unless you're part (or all) Curator, or have some Incredibly High KatTox, you're not going to be able to handle their blood. (please imagine how terrifying it is for Elias to watch someone lick their blood... and then nothing happens. horrifying!!!)

The flow of their blood is tied to the flow of the river, and vice versa. When the river is swollen and rushing, they are fast and full and energetic, and bleeding is much more likely, and much more risky for them. When it is cold, and slow moving, they become lethargic. Crashes in the water and major backups become migraines, busy days have them feeling touch and pressure, which can be either reassuring or annoying. Their mood, in turn, reflects on the water. Anxiety and worry turn into spiraling eddies, anger of frustration or, most dangerous of all, fear, turn into rushing rapids that threaten to capsize boats and flood the locks, but a happy day will have a swift and steady river, cooperative in what needs done.

Yes, this means if you Fuck Up in Elias' river, they can feel it. They have a reputation at the Guild for showing up any and every time there is an accident. The Guild doesn't know Elias is part river, though they do know about them being married (only the superstitious realize it's more than ceremony), and they are aware that Elias' working garb bears striking resemblance to the former gowns and mask of the Swan Bride. No one knows how they're able to navigate while wearing a dress and veil with a massive train that drags in the water.

Elias cannot donate blood, but receiving blood is a bit easier, though not without risk. Donating blood, even to someone with high KatTox, is a challenge, with myriad side effects. First, there is the longing. That gravitational pull, heavy as Earth, injected into someone used to no pull at all. It's easier on Zailors though, for they are used to the pull of the Zee. An intense desire to return to the Persephone, and fling oneself into her currents to float happily. After that, however, is the Persephone recognizing where she is, what strange canals she's in now. You'd better hope she likes you. If not, she'll simply escape the confines, and probably take most of your blood with her. If you've survived all this though, you'll still end up highly sick. Human veins are not meant for corrosive poison, and without the proper death and death rites, your body won't be able to adjust itself or become accustomed to it. Getting blood into them is easier, but Elias does not tolerate the composition well, it diminishes who and what they are, and will put their body in shock. in a pinch though, it can be done, provided you can treat the shock and help them feel like themself again. The best way to give Elias a blood transfusion would be to take the back to the River where they can slowly heal, or, if it needs to be done quicker, to inject the river-water into them directly.

Elias does get some fun and nifty stuff out of it though! Mainly, their communication with, control of, and strength on the water.

Well, less control in the traditional sense.

When Elias opened their veins to her, it was not just a bargain. It was marriage, a bond, and a conversation. They shared their circulatory system with her, and the organ that is in charge of all of that: their heart. They have dedication to her, and devotion for her, and that deep bond. It's not romantic love, but it is love, and a promise. They love her, and care for her.

She asks they return to her once a month, and they do so willingly. Even when they are unhappy, they will return to her, for she cannot come to viisit them. They carry her happily in their blood. If Elias is unable to visit her for whatever reason however, their anemia symptoms with gradually worsen, and their strength will diminish. It is as if their lifeforce slowly leaves them. It is not out of malice that this is done however, it is simply that the bond needs to be renewed, vows upheld. She permits them as much freedom as they have, for she knows they cannot be contained, and it would sadden them to be so far from others. So they must visit her.

Often though, Elias will visit more than once a month anyways, because they adore her so. Thus, with this bond they share, and the part of their heart she occupies, the Persephone grants them something extra.

The previous Gonfalonier had the river in his veins, yes, but he did not give of his blood back. He did not want to risk a binding, and thus he had limited abilities with the River. He could navigate more easily than anyone else, and already he had great skill, and though he control and bend the waters to his will, and she was not happy, and his success was extremely limited.

With Elias and their heart, they can communicate with her. Navigation traditionally requires an oar, however... Elias can merely touch their hand to the water, and she will know their desires. They can ask her to swell, to slow, to speed them along, whatever their heart desires. When they do this though, if they attempt anything of intensity, it does cause their own blood to run in turn. Usually a nosebleed will come first, then it trickles from their mouth and tear ducts. It doesn't hurt, but it can exhaust them if they push themself too far. On the river herself though, Elias tends to feel more alive, and less lethargic. Their aches do not touch them as much here. Unfortunately, Elias will often overwork themself because of this, so excited to do things that they forget their disabilities are still there.

Elias also still doesn't know how to swim, and while they're great at navigating their gondola... this does not apply out at Zee. They can't feel the Zee, nor do they know how to communicate with it, and they're bad at navigating using a steering wheel instead of an oar.

Overall though, they take the good with the bad, and love her regardless. She provides them freedom, a way to navigate the waters and the Upper River, where they alone are in control of themself.

[aves-rook-laidir]

Here are my live notes that i typed out on the Sticker App while playing the game for the first time. - MAJOR SPOILERS -

They are slightly out of order because I was just jumping in typing wherever:

Holy shit it’s on TWO DISCS?!!?

Not me staring at the press any button screen for ages

I like that Neve is like Cassandra, your no 1

Davrin Rook bonded so fast because they were immediately thrown into a dragon battle together and it got really tough real quick

Did Gilhanain just say YOUR BLOOD KNOWS YOU’LL DIE HERE?

Absolutely loved bringing harding as the extra companion, she’s just so exasperated by it all

I do feel like the va tone didn’t always fit with certain more serious situations.

Staring at Solas in photomode, so mixed emotions, mostly exasperation.

So what was he doing at the strart? Putting evanuris in a stronger prison, then tearing down the veil, or? Because if he was just putting them in a new prison, and exlained himself to Varric non of this would be happening.

God damn, someone ask Morrigan about the fith blight, actually, is it even public record who journeyed with the Warden? Was it kept hush hush?

Can wardens still hear the calling if all the high dragons are awakend? Whos calling them in the deep roads?

I wonder if Davrin has a hard time talking about the elven god reveal because he has a special relationship with Halla and Ghilanain was the god of Halla? 

Oh, why would we have Varric's shaving mirror?

Lucanis so fucking weird haha

Davrin - “Couldn’t have asked for a better day” Rook immediately, ungracefully slides down a cliff

Emmrich is making a mistake, why would he want to be immortal, like look at these three imortal clowns running around.

Ok so The Ancient Elves were spirits who took physical forms using the lyrium, which is the blood of the ancient titans, They became the first mages? This caused a war between the elves and the titans

I wish they had shown more of Emmrich getting her out of the fade, because that is his very specific skill, like all the attention Lucanis got about using the dagger, to cement Emrrich's role in all this, I wanna see him being a badass in a direct story point.

The Butcher was scarier than Elghanan, should not have been,

Elghanan should have been wayyyy scarier, less talking.

“The gods they give strength but all they ask in return is everything” dope

Literally fuck off no scene getting her out of the fade, her reacting to getting out, the grief? The Relief? Helo?

“Though Harding also told me” LMAO Emmrich

I feel like it makes more sense for Harding to sneak up on Ghillie, This is her moment, tragic because we’ve seen her whole journey. Harding saying ‘should I take the shot’ at the start of the game then taking guaranteeing Ghilanains death with her simple bow and arrow. and to have this little dreamless thing, created out of the desicrated titans be the last thing she sees, fuck yes.

The first thing they did was retrieve all the bodies. They found Harding and Leliana and the Inquisitor brought her back to her village

Solas: How did you even get out of the fade? Rook: gestures vaguely to Emmrich standing behind her ‘He knows more about the fade than you.'

I wish there was a bit more dialogue with Dorian at the end, saying ‘Do it for Varric and or Harding, won’t you? They were just so…oh, you…know...’

Taash everyone I loves dies NONONO I love you!

‘Everything dies, its what they do’ Including imortal gods

Is solas fucking losing??? fucks sake cant even do one thing

Solas assisting the Shadow Dragons at the end paint a funny picture, like, imaging Dorain trying to evacuate the city and Solas is just also there, after like 10 years. How did that reunion go?

It had to be bellara that got blighted, those gods were hers, that history is hers, and she's just so innocent, it was a great character arc

me the whole time 'its fine just go grey warden'

Shaved her head after coming out the fade to feel something

What if it’s not enough? What if it is?

I really though time travel was going to be a thing, after the dorian stuff?

Leo represent my Inky because in my AU she is too weak to travel as the mark is still sucking the life out of her, arm or no arm, but she dragged her ass up for that final scene with Solas. Leli and Josie spread a misinformation campaign around thedas, so unless you meet them directly its really hard to know if Inky is a female Elf, Male Human, and whoever else.

I hope Morrigan is ok

[creepy-friday]

Creepypasta Mansion Headcanons

Warnings: misogyny,suggestive themes,violence,mental illness and drugs mentions

Slenderman

I see Slenderman as an entity who uses his power to control more and more of the human world,but at the same time I can still see some sort of "humanity"

He took in Sally because he felt pity for her and treated her as his daughter after all,so I believe there are still some feelings underneath all of this darkness

Using and desposing residents is no strange occurrence to him,yet he is able to form bonds with them and see them as more than possessions and valuable minions

Because of this,there are definitely exceptions on who he decides to kill and who he decides to punish and to what degree.The others have an idea who is more favoured than the other

Cody

he's fresh meat,new to the proxy team,yet he's already pissing the living hell out of Masky

Cody's skills sure can be a threat to the power hierarchy among the proxies,altough he would selfishly want more he won't get promoted solely because you're already all the team needs Slendy's words,not mine

He has a special sibling-like relationship with Toby,at first he looked up to him as a mentor but now he became a little cheeky shit and wants to overpower him,kinda like how smaller siblings would want to do

He's also in the lab 80% of his working time,so no one really sees him that often which means he has time to do and clean up the messes he does with his chemicals

Cody is no longer the loser everyone in his life assumed him to be.He has power and became mentally and physically way stronger,it's only normal for him to want to be seen as the bigger/stronger person,the one who can finally protect what he loves do what you want with this information

Toby

Mister insecurity himself.He was bullied outside of the mansion and now he's bullied by slightly more deranged and dangerous motherfuckers.I feel bad for him to be honest

I believe the residents choose to keep their memories or not(or they are punished to lose them and have to work to get them back)from before they were abducted in the mansion,but Toby choose to lose a part of them and now he feels bad for it,especially because he cannot truly remember his sister's face

He believes he was a coward because of this and now he does everything in his power to prove to himself otherwise,but the constant toxic environment doesn't really let him to

Even if he is allowed to go to town he might lose his control and that isn't really good for him and his "work".He cannot be with people and cannot be alone,except some emo moments from him

Yeah,he was fucked by Natalie a couple of times when he was sort of new in the mansion,but nothing too serious happened between them.Now he resents and slut shames her but never to her face,he's kinda afraid of her lol

Clockwork

she has no shame whatsoever,would talk the dirtiest pornographic/goriest content over breakfast like it's the morning news

I headcanon her as a chaotic bisexual

There are reasons why she's here,so she's not all sweets and roses.She slept with Toby and made his mommy issues worse.After she got bored of her boy toy she ditched him and now they have this "bad blood" with each other

She was lonely but Toby had too many issues and she really needed someone to improve her,that's why they are now not in the greatest terms

She doesn't like Nina because Jane doesn't like her,it's kinda like how your best friend has beef with someone and now you have it too

I see her,Jane and Liu being mostly seen together because they tend to get along really well.She's definitely the glue that keeps the group together

Jane

strong woman.Definetly uses way too much perfume so her presence is always known,it's her assassination signature

Altough Clockwork puts on a strong and confident demeanor,Masky would avoid Jane the most she gives him the creeps

The reason she doesn't like Nina it's because of her past involving Jeff,she would never forgive her bad decisions.She surprisingly gets along with Liu because of his cool demeanour and his ability to calm her down

In terms of Sully,she actually is the one to mellow him down

She observes a lot and doesn't talk much,I see her listening to goth music in her room while she reminisces over her past life

Jane either ignores or gets extremely violent with Jeff,but all of the aggression is MOSTLY started by Jeff

Liu

he's a sweet guy.He's the calm after the storm while Sully is most like the actual storm

I see Liu having trust issues and would need a while to get intimate with someone,he labels himself demisexual, much to Sully's disapproval since he puts his dick into anything that has a hole

He's the only friendly face you would see when you need one

Liu has strong opinions and moral codes despite his work,I headcanon him as a feminist tbh

You will know when Sully takes over,even tough he likes to pretend he's still Liu for personal reasons, the eyes never lie ("the eyes chico,they never lie")

Jeff

he definitely has issues but he loves himself

don't let this ass fool you,if you go trough all the layers you will witness mister insecurity 2.0

uses his looks to his advantage.Jumpscares people,tries to overpower them,eats only gym shit and he's blasting metal everytime he works out

this guy loves when women fight,finds it especially amusing whenever Clockwork starts to fuck up Zero smh

his trauma doesn't justify his actions tough.Everytime he gets bored he goes out and tortures his victims for hours,rapes them,photograph and humiliate them just because he feels like it.

Jeffrey has his moment of question about his morals but he will simply get high and try to puff puff pass these thoughts away

The only person who stands him is Ben,and even if Jeff won't admit it,he's secretly grateful he has someone.Sure,Liu cares about his brother and even if they act as if nothing has happened between them sometimes,he knows that everyone gave up on him.

The tought terrifies and soothes him.He wants to be free and to fuck up even more but at the same time he wants one more chance

sadomasochist

Hold him accountable for his actions.As much as he needs someone to untie his strings he needs someone to further pressure him to do better.

Masky

the amount of times Natalie smacked the table with her palm and made him jump inside is galactic

before you came he definitely TRIED to bang at least one woman in the mansion,all to Jane's utter disgust towards him

I'm sorry your mother didn't tell you she loved you Tim,you don't have to seek approval to every feminine presence you come in contact with

He gets high with Jeff,but do they get along outside of this?Not really,but they are okaish with each other.I would say they are buddies,not really friends

Jane gives him the creeps,it's something about her presence that doesn't allow him to insult her,that's why he decided to avoid her as much as possible

Secretly respects Natalie's strength,wishes to train with her or have a friendly battle but outside the fact that he doesn't really has the chance to,he would be too ashamed if he would lose to a woman lmao

He could overpower her but he's more impulsive while Clockwork can think before she blows a hit