#like that is something she has said to me SEVERAL times

[moonstruckme]

Hi Mae!! I was wondering if you could write something where reader is in the hospital for something and maybe another doctor or nurse doesn’t realize she’s remus’s gf and is being rude to her. And doctor!remus overhears and saves the day lol<3

Thank you for requesting lovely <3

cw: reader who menstruates, mention (not really description) of severe period pains, healthcare gaslighting

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 632 words

“Have you tried taking pain medications like ibuprofen?” 

You clench your jaw. “Yes, I have.” 

“And how long has your period lasted?” 

“It started on Tuesday.” 

The nurse looks up from his chart, unimpressed. “So it’s only been a few days.” 

“Yes, but the pain started before that. And this has been happening for—” 

“Are you aware that many women experience period pains before the start of their periods?” 

Your skin feels hot. Frustrated tears threaten to clog your throat, and you fight the urge to bend over to relieve some of the pain in your abdomen. “Yes. I know that.” 

“One a scale from one to ten, how would you rate your pain?” 

“Eight.” Your voice nearly breaks. 

Your nurse pushes out a sigh. “I’m sorry to tell you, but that’s not uncommon either.” He sets down his chart, leveling with you. “Listen, we treat a lot of really sick and hurting people here. We have lots of patients to get to today, so if you think what you’re experiencing could be normal period pain—”

“Excuse me?” The nurse falls silent as Remus pulls aside the curtain, stepping into your little room. You have to shove down the urge to cry just for seeing him. He looks between the two of you, seemingly confused but obviously displeased. “What’s going on?” 

“Hi,” you offer meekly.

Your nurse turns to Remus with a long-suffering look that’s nearly conspiratorial as well. It’s clear he expects to be agreed with. “Doctor Lupin, sorry to waste your time. You’re welcome to check her out, but after an initial interview we’re fairly certain she’s experiencing regular menstrual cramps.” 

Your face flames at his use of we. You hadn’t agreed to any of that. 

“It’s not a waste,” Remus says, clipped. “I asked her to come here, because her menstrual cramps are abnormally severe and prolonged, and I’ve already ordered an ultrasound to find out why. Are you in the habit of deterring our patients from seeking care?” 

Your boyfriend’s tone grows increasingly agitated as he speaks, and you watch with a guilty sort of satisfaction as the blood drains from the nurse’s face. 

When he offers up no answer, Remus’ expression hardens. “I’ve got it from here. Find me later, please.” 

You barely get to see your nurse leave. Remus steps closer to you, eclipsing your view, the anger in your boyfriend’s expression melding into concern.

“Hi, honey.” His hand wraps around your arm. “How is it today?” 

You feel your face crumple under his caring gaze. “A little better,” you manage. 

Remus makes a sympathetic sound, thumb sweeping gently over your skin. “Still nauseous?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Did he ask you to rate your pain?” 

“Mhm.” 

“And what did you say?” 

You shrug. You’re never sure how accurate you are with these scales. “I said an eight. It might be a seven, though, I just” —your voice cracks— “wanted him to believe me.” 

 “Oh, baby.” Remus wraps you up in a hug, cupping your head to his chest. “I’m sorry he treated you that way, sweetheart. It was completely out of order. I’m not going to let it happen to anyone else, I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” you say tightly. “I’m fine, and it’s not your fault.” 

Remus makes a tsking sound like he doesn’t quite agree. “Why didn’t you tell him you were with me?”

You shrug, a bit bashful. “I didn’t want to, like, name drop you.” 

Remus smiles, shaking his head in astoundment. “You’re absurd.” He gives your cheek a loving hold. His eyes lock on yours, steady and earnest. “We’re going to sort this, alright?”

“Oh, don’t involve me, please. Talk to him after I’m gone.” 

“I mean your cramps,” Remus laughs. He presses a kiss to your forehead. “But yes, after you’re gone.”

[stuckinmymind22]

you say "i love you" first

ft: zoro, sanji, robin, ace, and shanks

gn!reader (minus zoro, sorry), mostly fluff, mostly sfw (shanks is a little bit explicit)

a/n: i just think this is cute idk

zoro

you say it first and he kisses you instead of saying it back, that leads somewhere and he’s more tender than usual and you know that is him saying “i love you too” finally says it back after several days when you’re alone and he mumbles it, you aren’t sure that you heard him so you ask him what and he comes and whispers in your ear “i said, i love you, woman” don't expect him to say it often though, the words from him are rare, no matter how many times you tell him that you love him. instead, zoro shows his love in his actions, one time he pulled out your chair for you at dinner and didn't say anything about it (was kinda awkward with it tbh), but the rest of the crew poked fun at him. he somehow always knows when there is something wrong with you, and although not the most emotionally aware he will listen to any of your problems as you talk through your emotions

sanji

he has definitely said it way too early in the relationship, said it a bunch then as you got serious he slowly stopped saying it bc now the words meant more/had more weight and he didn't want to scare you off when you do say it, immediate nose bleed, nearly cries, says it back right away. now that you said it this man is going to make declarations of love at least once a day, somehow he never repeats himself. would probably scream it from the mountain tops if he could tbfh

robin

she’s really confused, not that she doesn’t love you back but more in the “how could anyone love me” type of way. she remains speechless for far longer than you would like, when she does speak again it's to tell you that she isn't quite ready to say it back. naturally, you're devastated by this and you start to distance yourself a bit. that ends up being what she needed to admit her feelings. she probably tries her best to make some romantic gesture maybe just flowers or maybe she gets sanji (ever the simp) to make your favorite dinner. she's the type to be real quiet about her love, not to say that her love for you is unnoticed by outsiders, but she is not going out of her way to make it known like sanji

ace

you guys say it at the exact same time both of you are like awesome. he says it at the most random times, sometimes walking up to you while you are in a conversation to whisper "i love you" in your ear. he adores the way that those words always bring a massive smile to your face he's still a little insecure about himself, but each time you tell him you love him he starts to get more and more confident. he starts to become attached to your side (gets made fun of for it but he doesn't care), not that he wasn't before, but this was more

shanks

takes a while for feelings to develop beyond sexual (you both went in thinking it was just a hookup and that it was all it would ever be) it starts to become clearer that you both are in too deep. neither of you want to ruin what you have so you stay silent about it for far too long once, after you had sex, you bring yourself to admit it, completely out of breath. he’s lowkey stunned, doesn’t really know what to say, says “thank you doll” of course you get mad and he’s like “what i just said thank you, you know i love you too” and you’re like "i mean i figured but it would’ve been nice to hear 🙄" never being bothered by pda, he starts to become more brazen in his displays of affection, sometimes catching you as you walk by to pull you into his lap, regardless of who is around

[gale-gentlepenguin]

Epic What if

(What if Odysseus chose his crew?)

-The events of the story won’t change much at the beginning. But there is one small part.

-Odysseus feels a twinge of guilt still. The song “Monster” didn’t help him completely embrace ruthlessness.

-And so the events leading up to the mutiny and thunderbringer are the same.

-But one key difference was when Zeus asked Odysseus what he’d choose.

-“You, or your crew.”

-Zeus believed he knew the answer. The crew that had just betrayed Odysseus. The man desperate to see his wife. It seemed so obvious.

-But Odysseus’s next statement came as shocking.

-“If I choose my crew… would you let them get back to ithica?”

-Eurylochus realized what he was asking.

-Zeus, being the thunderbringer, smiles

-“They would get to Ithica, but your journey ends here. You will no longer have your kingdom.”

-Odysseus takes a minute, he takes a piece of paper and writes something. He hands it to him.

-“Give this to my wife.”

-Eurylochus speaks

-“Captain wait!?”

-Zeus was surprised by the call. But is seems he swallowed Ody had swallowed his pride. In the end, he was just a man.

-Zeus Killed Odysseus. Leaving the crew on the boat.

-Zeus looks at the crew.

-He takes his lightning and blasts the back of the ship.

-Sending it flying and right to Ithica.

-Zeus decides to head back to Olympus. His work done.

-Eurylochus felt his heart ache. No one wanted to get home more than his best friend… yet when the time came to choose, he chose them. The crew that betrayed him.

-He looked at the note. He noticed there was a second note. One for him.

-He read it. A new song called “To my friends.” Plays

-Tears fell from his eyes. But he wiped them.

-“Raise my son to be a king better than me.”

-“I will Ody, on my life.”

-Eurylochus and the remains of the crew arrived at the palace. Where suitors had gathered. Antinious asked where the king was.

-Eurylochus said that Odysseus was dead.

-The suitors cheered, Telemachus heard and was saddened. The 12 year old was left without a dad.

-Antinious was about to say it’s time for her to choose, only for Eurylochus cut his head off.

-The song “Wolf pack attack” replaces fight little wolf.

-The suitors were all killed by the remaining soldiers.

-Eurylochus goes to Penelope. And the next song. “I’m sorry.” Which is sung by Eurylochus to Penelope.

-Penelope vows to never marry. As only Odysseus was the one she loved.

-The next song is Eurylochus song to Telemachus. “What was he like.” Which is Eurylochus telling Telemachus about his father and the man that he was.

-several years later Telemachus is made king at 18. And he is the spitting image of Odysseus.

-He ends up befriending Athena, who feels guilt over Odysseus and decides to not make the same mistakes she did with Odysseus. The song “Like him.” Is played as Telemachus sings of how he is training to be like his father.

-Telemachus goes on an excursion for a diplomatic mission.

-Where Posideon appears. He thought he was Odysseus. And Telemachus knew who he was.

-The next song is Poseidon singing “Sins of the father.”

-Eurylochus was on that ship and protects Odysseus with his life. The last part of the song has Eurylochus die.

-Telemachus striking back. The song is called “Father son Strike” and thanks to Athena’s help. He manages to beat Poseidon. And like his father did in canon. He goes ham until he surrenders

-After that, Telemachus sings an alternate version of “Legendary”. In which he sings it about his father and Eurylochus.

-He heads home to Ithica, where he goes to rule over his kingdom.

[dark-dragon-8]

A Supernatural × Batman crossover where the Batfam are actual cryptids and the brothers are sent to hunt them, only to find out that these guys are pretty much immortal, god like beings whose only weaknesses are each other, the sun and some weird sentient manifestation of their home city that they seem to care about, and most of them already grew out of the second one, since, apparently, the sun only affects them when they're newborns/newly transformed/changed.

The whole reason they ended up in Gotham in the first place was because of some online rumors saying that there is a demon cult in the city, as well as Blüdhaven [it's true, partially, the Bat clan has had several cults and/or religions painting them as godly beings/saviours of Gotham throughout the years, still do (imagine the colonies from F'ing Demon Bats, only this time the cryptid part of them is actually real)] along with shrines for human sacrifices.

At first they thought the locals sold themselves to a Pagan God in exchange for their safety, that the shrines and "holy grounds" spread throughout the city were for blood and human sacrifices and the creatures were feeding on the souls of their followers or something.

Turns out, that couldn't be further from the truth. Yes there were bloody sacrifices at the shrines, but most of the time those were just grieving kids bringing their dead pets to silence's holy grounds for them to be healed, or taken care of, by the spirit and have their souls at peace. But, again, that was rare, and only occurred at the holy grounds themselves rather than the shrines people attended to daily.

Majority of those shrines were filled with books, art supplies, music boxes with ballerinas and, sometimes, you could even find a few trinkets and computer parts, as well as the occasional plates and plastic boxes filled with home cooked meals, sometimes they even put pots and kettles filled to the brim with savory goods and nice tea. Nobody ever touched the food, not even the poor and desperate, when asked why all the brothers received were looks of horror and hushed whispers about how "The bats don't like thieves" and "They'll stop coming by the shrine, maybe even destroy it if we do that"

Dean didn't like it, neither did Sam, they didn't like how the locals, people who barely even bat an eye when they see a dead body on their way to work, get so scared and terrified as soon as they hear of something that might displease the Bats. They tried asking around, trying to figure out what is it that makes them so scared of their dearly beloved deities, after all, they talk about them like such a wonder, like they're the best thing that ever happened to them. Hell, one of them is named Mercy and was revered for its compassion and understanding of those around them.

They only got their answer when investigating a place called Crime Alley. They locals were all the same, if not even more reserved than their city's counterparts, but there was one person, a young girl who couldn't be older than ten that said she'll be willing to answer their questions in return for some money and stories from their time as hunters. They were reluctant at first, but seeing as they haven't had much of an option, they agreed.

"So, Masey" Dean started

"Missy" she corrected

"Right, sorry, Missy, you said that you could tell us what's up regarding those demons"

"Deities" she said sternly, the man simply nodded "And yes, I can do that, but you'll have to do something for me first"

"And what would that be?"

"You said you were a hunter, right?" He nodded "And you also said you have some money. So I want you to give me two hundred dollars, cash, and a written story containing at least three of your adventures with your partner. You can't use big fonts, lie or omit any details from the story, it needs to be one hundred percent real and legible and needs to be at least fifty pages, understood?"

Dean was confused, confused and worried. Why would this child need a story about them hunting monsters? And why did she need it to be so long and accurate? Was she trying to sell them out to the Bats or something? Why was this so important?

A million questions flooded his head and looking at Sammy, he could tell the feeling was very much mutual.

"Um Missy" it was Sam talking to her this time "Why would you want a story of us hunting like that? We could tell you about our time together on the field, if you want, but why do you need that written so meticulously?"

The little girl shook her head before he even finished speaking "No, no, I need it written"

"How so?"

"For Passion, of course"

"Passion?"

"Yeah, Passion, the component watching over Crime Alley, it loves reading stories but only when they're worth it. It doesn't like when people give them stories only to please it or for it to give them undeserved attention. It needs to be good and interesting, a story about two hunters will definitely do that"

The two hunters met each other's eyes, both their expressions filled with worry, apprehension and suspicion.

"And why all the other rules? Why does have to be so long and accurate?"

The girl tilted her head, looking at them as though they've said something stupid "Because you're introducing yourself, maybe"

"I can't just tell you guys all there is to know about the Bat without at least one of the components acknowledging you guys and giving me permission to share that information with outsiders"

"And what makes you think it won't just kill us as soon as it realizes what we do for a living?" They might've been desperate, but that doesn't mean they're going to give an essay about their weaknesses and hunting methods to a freaky, probably homicidal spirit on a silver platter

"Because they like people like you, people who put their lives on the line in order to help those around them. Also" she leveled her gaze with Dean's, which was pretty impressive considering she barely reached his hip "Had it wanted you dead, you wouldn't have been able to take two steps inside Crime Alley without having a heart attack, or your head magically disappearing"

The two brothers tensed, the taller's eyes rapidly scanning their surroundings, hands fishing out a weird cellular device, probably an EMF reader or maybe a bottle of holy water, as the shorter failed to keep up his confident facade in front of the (probably) ten year old (because Dean isn't going to be spooked by a kid that hasn't even reached the double digits yet, he's 𝘯𝘰𝘵)

The little girl laughed, completely ignoring their - very justified!!! - panic "Relax, would ya? Passion doesn't kill people unless they feel like it's necessary"

They didn't seem to be very relaxed, she didn't care, she just told them to meet her again on the border of Crime Alley and its neighbor city in a week, before leaving.

Two hours later, Carrie Kelley was skipping into the main living room of Wayne Manor, where several of her siblings played video games and with their father reading the newspaper on the side, the perfect illusion of a normal, happy, completely human family.

She walked up to Bruce, sitting on the arm of his sofa as the last of her illusion magic slipped away

"Did you do it?"

"I offered them the deal, still not sure if they'll end up actually agreeing to it"

"Mn. You did well"

The young teen preened under the praise, thanking her father before going off to boast and scheme with the rest of her siblings, they were up planning contingencies and devising plans until Sundown.

[spiderb00]

I'm live - Sophia Laforteza

Sophia Laforteza X reader 

Synopsis: Being a streamer is fun, even more fun if your girlfriend shows up by surprise on your live. 

Genre: Fluff 

a/n: I had this idea while I was watching Tinakitten's live on Twitch, I love her, she's my favorite streamer 

English is not my first language so maybe I messed up a little and blablabla. <3 

Streaming on Twitch has always been very relaxing for me, just playing and connecting with people felt very enjoyable. I never imagined how big this would all become, when I started it was just for fun and now I have just over two thousand people watching me every time I turn on the camera. All of this has given me amazing experiences, including meeting my beautiful girlfriend, Sophia Laforteza.   

I met Sophia at a concert, specifically backstage at Olivia Rodrigo's concert, we talked a little and discovered many things in common. After a lot of talking we ended up exchanging phone numbers, going on dates, and before I knew it I was acting like a teenager with they first crush. 

At first we were very afraid that it wouldn't work. Sophia has tight schedules and seems to be everywhere all the time, but we quickly managed to unite our schedules and make everything fit perfectly 

We hadn't made our relationship public yet, so no one knew we were dating, except of course, our families and the Katz's. What happens is that a few days ago my chat noticed that there was a female voice speaking a little loudly in the middle of the live, which earned me several spams and donations where people asked who was with me at home and why I didn't show them on the live, given that all my friends had already appeared on camera at some point. 

Even though I said it was just a friend and trying my best to shift the focus to something else, my chat didn't seem to be very convinced, they were always making jokes about the "mysterious girl" in my kitchen, like at this very moment.  

"Chat, can't you just forget about it?" I said as I leaned back in my chair, resting my arms above my head to be more comfortable as I waited for all my friends to join the strange game that Foolish forced us to play. 

"What are you talking about dummy?" Tina, my friend, said when she heard me grumble about the chat.  

"The chat just being mean to me!" I said while making a sad voice, only to break laughing at the comments.   

Superglue2000 - We're Not Being Mean, We're Snooping 😊  

Bealovesyn – I'm trying to know who my wife is cheating on me with!!!

Cowboybibi – why did we never consider that it could be the voice of Tina? Yn and her seem very close... :/   

"Chat, what? Why are they putting Tina in this?" I said while laughing nervously.   

"Uh? Putting myself in what?" Tina said, her voice confused, she also seemed nervous about the situation. Tina and I are friends, neither of us wants things to get weird because of some speculation.   

"Guys, stop spamming Tina. She's never been in my kitchen." I said laughing, trying to give off an air of confidence, but I honestly think I was failing miserably.   

"Oh, that's crazy." Tina said laughing, I think she had already understood what was going on, she knew she wasn't involved in anything, so she had no reason to be afraid. 

Before I could say anything else, the door to my studio was opened, and there she was, in all her glory, my beautiful girlfriend, Sophia Laforteza.   

"Hey baby, I just arrived, I bought pizza on the way, do you want me to bring it to you?"  

Completely paralyzed, that's how I was. Without arguments and without knowing how to elaborate a word if you want. My only reaction was to whisper; 

"Baby, I'm live!"   

"I know beautiful, that's why I came here to ask if you want to eat, you've been there for a long time." Now, listen to me, despite the friendly tone, I know my Sophia, okay, I know my girl, and something's not right.  

"So yes, that's fine, thanks for asking."  

For the first time I had the courage to look at the chat.   

Spidermanmasc – Bro, you literally got a girlfriend, you dumped the losing nerds 

Cutekate – OMG, YOU REALLY HAVE SOMEONE! SHOW HER ON CAMERA!!  

Superglue2000 - Don't be shy miss, come and say hello...   

Eyekonswinning – this sounds crazy, but it sounds a lot like Sophia's voice??? 

"Well, now they're asking you to say hello..."  

Before I could complete my sentence and tell her that she didn't have to do it if she didn't want to, Sophia was already on my lap, appearing gracefully in the camera frame.   

"Hi guys, my name is Sophia, I'm Yn's girlfriend." The smile on her face seemed immense, I was completely paralyzed.   

Macaronechease – OMG, SHE'S SO BEAUTIFUL, I'M SO HAPPY FOR YOU!!  

Eyekonswinning – WHAT??? I KNEW THE VOICE WAS SIMILAR, BUT WHAT'S IT???? (You guys are very cute btw.)  

Superglue2000 – Your girlfriend is simply the leader of Katseye???

Spidermanmasc – like, and I say HOW DID YOU PULL THIS GIRL??? 

"Hey, what are you saying? I know my girlfriend is amazing, but you don't have to humiliate me." I said smiling. As unusual as all of this was, I was very happy with the positive comments.  

"Well, how about I go get the pizza and come see you play?" Sophia said as she looked at me, giving a quick kiss on my cheek before getting up and heading towards the kitchen.   

"Well... That was epic." Tina spoke, for a minute I forgot I was on the call.   

"Dude, how did you pull her???" It's literally the first sentence Foolish said on live.   

"Dude, shut up and let's play." 

After the live is over, Sophia and I are on the couch, relaxing.   

"So I love that we're public now, but I have to ask. Why did you decide to do this so unexpectedly?"  

"Because I love you, and I want everyone to know it..." She said as she gave me a long kiss.  

"And you're mine, no one will ship you with anyone other than me." she says grabbing my face with those huge nails.   

This woman is the death of me. 

[areyouwell]

Memento Mori

Ch.1

Pairing: Logan Howlett x F!Mutant!Reader

Warnings: Violence, slight body horror

Word Count: 8.1K

A/N: Took me long enough. New long-fic comin' in from the left! i know i teased this around three weeks ago (ish) but here's chapter one. not sure this is gonna be as long as Phobophobia but i'm really excited about this one. it's a little darker (yeah i know) but i already love this MC. if anyone wants tagging in this pls lmk, i don't wanna assume everyone who i tagged in Phobophobia wants to be tagged again so i'll start a new list <3

Dividers by @/sweetmelodygraphics

“So, as detailed here, there have been a string of these… murders, I suppose.”

Logan sighed heavily. When he woke up this morning, the one thing he didn’t expect was to be called into Charles Xavier’s office so soon after having breakfast, let alone be greeted with grainy photographs of some of the most horrific murder scenes he’d ever had the displeasure of looking at. Entrails, bones, flesh, eyes. None of it was where it should be, which most of the time, seemed scattered around the floor rather than attached to whichever poor, unfortunate soul who’d had the shitty luck of running into their silent assassin. Charles pointed the telescopic stick towards the mangled jacket of one of the equally mangled victims. Logan couldn’t even tell what gender they were, their face nothing but a bloody pulp.

Almost as if it had been exploded from the inside out. 

“This symbol here is the only string that connects the murders, and after doing a little digging,” he nodded thankfully to Ororo, her white hair bobbing with her dip of acknowledgement. “We found they all belonged to the same company, here.” With a click of the remote in his hands, the projection flipped to the next slide, a map of San Fransisco, a large red circle drawn around a location Logan was only somewhat familiar with, only because he’d walked past it a few times. 

“It’s a warehouse,” he offered, several heads turning to look at him. “I’ve walked ‘round there couple times. Nothin’ special, s’always buzzin’ with life.” He shrugged thoughtfully, tugging a cigar from his jacket pocket and flicking the Zippo lighter open and shut with his other hand. Charles gave him a slightly irritated look, but he pretended not to notice.”So… What? Our killer’s just popping caps in the head’s underpaid workers? Doesn’t make much sense.” 

“That’s what we thought too,” Ororo continued, placing down a few pieces of paper and spreading them about the table. “Until we started to notice a pattern. They’ve been picking off specific shift workers, mainly those on the late shift. But it’s never new members of staff either. Always those who’ve worked there for at least two years. Lately, their security has increased, but once they leave work, they’re basically on their own.” Storm took the remote from Charles and clicked to the next slide, a list of names and hours flaring onto the screen, the names of victims having been crossed out, though their hours were still visible on the row of the rota.

“Ya don’t think this has anything to do with that orphanage incident, do you?” Kitty piped up, cupping her mug of tea in both hands, either for comfort or for warmth, Logan couldn’t tell. She had a good point. It must have been around a month ago now. A fire had started downtown in the dead of night. Officials had said it was a discarded cigarette from one of the employees, but that didn’t explain why all the windows and doors had been locked.

Everyone within burned. Children included. 

“It’s certainly a theory…” Scott mused, rubbing his hand against his jaw in thought. “A terrible accident sounded far too much like a cover story. Think this killer had something to do with it?”

Charles sighed heavily. “Ordinarily, yes, I’d have some kind of suspicion, if it wasn’t for the fact our killer was elsewhere at the time.” He nodded to Ororo, who clicked the remote once again. “This was taken not an hour beforehand, on the other side of the city. Unless the killer can teleport, there’s no way they could have made it across town in such a short amount of time, let alone take all the precautions and set alight to the building. Though I do not believe it was merely a terrible accident, I don’t believe they had anything to do with it.” Charles finished before Ororo leant over the pages she’d spread on the table, spinning one to face the rest of the team.

“Though we do have this. A pattern of all the attacks and locations,” Logan stood up to skirt around the table, standing between Kitty and Marie as he inspected the red pen. With every X, the attacks almost formed an exact circle around the warehouse, almost as if the killer could predict which ways those victims would take home. Especially after the first attack. “We think the next one will happen here,” Ororo pointed to a side street far between the locations either side. “The most recent one being here, it’s logical to think they’d take the opposite side. At least, that’s what we’re hoping…” She trailed off, and Logan returned to his seat, having an idea as to what this meeting was actually about.

“You want us to lay a trap, right? Trail several employees home and jump in before Killer McGee can get their hands on ‘em.” He clarified, and Charles nodded a little too darkly for his liking. 

“Exactly. Which is why I won’t be asking you all on this mission. We need to avoid detection and sending all of us would be too much of a risk. Whoever this is, we must assume they’re a mutant. These attacks happen quickly and viciously, and to cause such damage in such a short amount of time, we must assume they possess some sort of ability.

“Scott, Ororo and Logan, I trust you can handle this task? I will be in Cerebro with Jean on hand, and the rest I want you on standby in the Blackbird in case backup is required.”

“Wait, we’re doing this tonight?” Marie squeaked, casting a wary glance to Kitty who returned her expression. Logan was relieved neither of them would be actively on the mission, he’d come to care for them both deeply, and whilst that didn’t mean he didn’t care for either Ororo or, though he’d never admit it, Scott, he was glad the two girls would be on standby rather than active duty.

“The attacks seem random, as if they flipped a coin to see if they would head out each night, but when you look closer, they’re only on the days the older members of staff are on shift. We think they’re looking for something, or someone, specific.” Ororo explained, pointing back to the projection on the screen. “These three here have been working at this specific warehouse for three, four and seven years respectably,” she clicked the remote again for each of their work ID cards to flash onto the screen. “Scott, you’re tailing Alec,” she gestured to the string bean of a man, blonde hair styled into several spikes atop his head, two silver snakebite piercings adorned his lower lip.  

“Logan, you’ve got Manuel, he’s been there for four years,” Logan didn’t think they could have found such a different-looking guy to the previous one if they fucking tried. Manuel was built like a brick shit house, a buzzcut of dark hair dusted the top of his otherwise bald head, ears like fucking cauliflowers. Of course, that’s who he’d be tailing, probably because a punch from this guy would send anyone else across the damn room. 

“And I’ll be tailing Henry, he works in the office upstairs but is still very much a likely target. We’re hoping to locate and pin down the killer before their shifts even finish, but in the eventuality The Professor can’t get a lock on them, this is the backup plan. Got it?”

Both Logan and Scott nodded in unison. It didn’t seem too much of a problem mission if this killer was cowardly enough to be picking these guys off one by one, he didn’t think they had much in terms of fighting prowess. Taking an enemy by surprise was the coward’s way out, in his opinion, though he supposed not everybody could heal the way he could. 

And taking this killer by surprise was exactly the plan…

Maybe he should rethink his principles. 

“Be suited up and ready to head out at ten. Gives us at least an hour to locate and set up.” Ororo gathered the papers on the table, tapping the small stack against the surface before tucking them beneath her arm. “Right, I’ve got a class to teach, pretty sure you do too, Professor.” She turned to Charles who simply smiled and nodded, ending the meeting just like that. With a huff and a stretch, Logan stood from his seat, instantly reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulling out a thick cigar, earning himself a sharp look of disapproval from Xavier, the Professor glancing pointedly to the chilly air beyond the window. Logan knew what he was saying, and usually, he’d tell him to go fuck himself and smoke indoors. But he needed a breath of fresh air after that stuffy, slightly nauseating meeting, and if he could kill two birds with one stone, why wouldn’t he?

With an acquiescing shrug, he shoved his hands in his pockets, turning on his heel to stalk from the boardroom, shoving the door open with his shoulder and almost walking chest first into Jean. His heart skipped a beat or three, lips pulling up into a small smirk to hide the fact he was borderline giddy to be running into her outside the meeting. She’d been the object of his affection ever since he was brought to the mansion and she checked his vitals. He couldn’t help it. There was just something about her he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Something that drew him to her the instant he was in her presence. He didn’t find himself thinking of her much outside their interactions, but when they were in the same room, all he could think about was her. It would be frustrating if he cared about anything said in those meetings. 

“Watin’ f’me now are ya?” He teased lowly, savouring the way her lips pursed to stop herself from smiling. There were times Logan thought she felt the same magnetic pull toward him that he felt toward her, times like this, where she didn’t look away from his gaze, and entertained his relentless teasing. 

“You know Scott’s still in there. We have plans,” she responded, feigning an attempt to look past him and back into the room where Scott was discussing various strategies with the Professor. Logan raised a brow as he followed her wavering line of sight, keeping that brow raised as he looked back at her. 

“Plans? Hope you don’t mean dinner, doesn’t look like he’ll be out anytime soon.” If she could just see how terrible Scott was for her. If he could just make her see how he would be so much better. Would suit her better. Would take care of her better. He wasn’t willing to change for many people, but if Jean asked, he would do it in a heartbeat. He’d change himself for her.

“Yes, Logan, dinner plans before the mission. And you know this is a tradition because you comment on it every time.” She huffed, her hair bobbing slightly with every emphatic move of her head. Logan chuckled lightly, his eyes briefly glancing from her gaze to her lips, how perfect they looked, and how perfect they would look wrapped around his–

“Then we both have our little traditions, don’t we? C’mon, doll. Why don’t we stop this dance?” His fingers curled through a strand of her hair, feeling it between his thumb and forefinger. “Haven’t I shown ya I can be the good guy?”

Jean sighed, and Logan half expected her to move away, but instead, she just closed her eyes, shaking her head softly. Was she mournful? Disappointed? It was hard to tell. 

“Logan, I don’t–”

“The fuck you think you’re doing?” Scott’s voice slashed through the charged atmosphere between them, and Logan found his hand falling away from Jean’s hair almost instantly. 

“We were jus’ talkin’, Scotty.” Logan shot back, trying to keep the defence from his voice. There was no need to let Scott know just how irritated the interruption made him feel.

“Yeah, like hell you were. Back off, Logan. I don’t wanna have to tell you again.” Placing his arm around Jean’s shoulders, Logan couldn’t help but notice the way she shrank slightly, looking almost humiliated. He tensed his jaw. If she hated Scott’s attention this much, she knew what he had to do. Logan didn’t know how much more obvious he could make his interest in her. All she needed to do was take the leap. “Yeah yeah, ‘stay away from my girl’, I know.” He mocked, sending Jean a wink before continuing on his path to the courtyard. Now he really fucking needed that cigar.

The city was so pretty in the twilight. Silhouetted buildings scattered with twinkling lights against a deep blue sky, it almost made up for the lack of stars. And there was nothing like watching the city skyline descend into darkness that had you more prepared than ever for your latest chosen victim. You hadn’t learned nearly as much as you should have by now, nobody you’d tortured knew anything about what you were looking for and it was starting to piss you off. But you didn’t bury those feelings. Instead, you harnessed them. Used your frustration to your advantage and honed yourself like a forged weapon. Every burn of urgent irritation sharpened your slices, focused your fileting, and pinpointed your precision. 

For the greater good, you reminded yourself as your watch beeped ten, and you spun the small knife in your palm before sheathing it in your boot. Your specific target of the night finished early every other week on Thursdays, hence your change in schedule today. In fact, a good few of them did. You assumed it had something to do with specific shipments on the warehouse floor but you didn’t bother yourself with the details. You knew his schedule now. You’d been watching for weeks. And you had every single detail of his various ways home. He was a bus-taker. Though, to avoid you, he’d been taking different numbered busses to other parts of town, before heading home. But the moron used the same three in rotation. There was no cause to wonder why he worked in a warehouse…

Although you had a good feeling about this one. You’d already scored one victim of the night, who was currently unconscious in your chosen location. You were one hundred per cent sure he knew what you were looking for, and you had a fantastic feeling about this one too.

Standing from where you’d been lounging against a rooftop balcony, you stretched your arms high above your head, listening to your bones and joints crack slightly before securing the steel mask over your features, cursing the phantoms of your past for providing you with such memorable makeup, and, shrugging the hood of your short-sleeved jacket over your head. Your hands dipped into the various sheathed across your waist, double checking the various blades in your belt. You were thankful you never needed to go through any kind of metal detector, because it would likely take you the rest of the night to remove every weapon dotted about your body, from the little holsters on your biceps to the sheathes in your boots, to the retractable blades in the bracers on your wrists. A wise woman once said you can never have too many knives.

A phrase you really should copyright before anyone else claims it. 

Five past ten. Go time. Taking a few steps back, you broke into a sprightly run, leaping like a dexterous cat across the rooftops, every step measured in surety. You’d done this too many times to start second-guessing yourself now, and it wasn’t like you were a stranger to the city’s rooftops and sketchy alleyways before you started doing this. With little effort, you crossed blocks in a matter of moments, skipping over crowds and traffic like it was child’s play before you landed with a deft roll above the side street tonight’s victim would take in a matter of five minutes. 

Like you said. Child’s play

You crouched low, removing the serrated knife from your belt, and flicking it in your palm over and over. It was a habit you’d developed when waiting in anticipation for something. It kept your hands occupied whilst your mind focused on the events to come, picturing exactly how you wanted things to play out. It was difficult. Capturing and torturing these assholes was like shooting fish in a barrel. 

“Fourth clear, no signs of our guy.”

You ducked low on the rooftop, an unpredicted obstacle walking into view wearing some shitty leather getup, fingers delicately perched at the side of his horizontal glasses. Though they weren’t exactly glasses. How would you describe it? Eye-guard? Some weird single glass as opposed to glasses? Whatever the fuck they were, you didn’t exactly want to find out what they did. He was holding them as if they were some kind of weapon. 

Shit, this really wasn’t good. If he didn’t move on now, you’d have to take him out and risk alerting your victim to your presence. Fuck, fuck and fuck again. And just as luck would have it, Alec appeared at the other end of the alleyway, nervously looking about before entering hurriedly. People didn’t watch enough movies. Did they really not know that entering dark alleyways with a killer on the loose was practically the same as signing your own death certificate? In any case, this actually worked in your favour. With Mr Visor patrolling the other end, you sliced open your hand, your blood humming as you pulled it from your veins to wrap around the metal drainage pipe before you swung off the rooftop, the crimson rope twisting and writhing as if it were alive as you descended, landing quietly a few paces behind him.

Now, if he wasn’t on such high alert, he would have most likely chalked the slight thud of your landing to the sound of a street cat, or perhaps a fox. But the way Alec jumped with a yelp, staggering as he turned to face you, didn’t exactly scream discreet. You held your hand up in front of you, contorting your fingers as your mutation felt for his pulse, slowing down the blood flow in his veins as quickly as you could. Not fast enough, a strangled yell flew from his now pale lips, and you swore viciously as your latest obstacle jogged back into view between the alleyway’s walls. 

“Shit, HE’S HERE!” He called to nobody you could see, and you barely had time to duck before a searing red beam of pure energy shot above your head, illuminating the dingy street in the crimson glow. You thought it slightly ironic, as your knife slashed through the palm of your hand, the colour of his mutation and who he was up against. Curving your arm in a wide arc, you manipulated your own blood cells into a wide blade, propelling it forward whilst you took a few steps toward your now collapsed victim. With Glasses now distracted by what you assumed was him discovering your own mutation, you felt around his veins for his heartbeat, tracing the blood flow back until you found the source, and you poured all your energy into slowing that one too. 

“He can manip… manipulate bl… blood.” Once again he spoke aloud to nobody you could sense, his knees giving out before he crashed to the floor. You huffed out a breath, fishing a small bandage from the pouch on your belt before wrapping up your hand and pulling the tie tight with your teeth. The one thing you found frustrating about your mutation was your inability to heal. How fucking helpful that would be, if every time you had to slash yourself open, you could just reseal the wound? Instead of running the risk of bleeding out. But you guessed everything had its drawbacks. Even blood manipulation. 

You bent to pick up Alec’s ankles, dragging him a few feet back the way he came, before you stopped, and looked back to the unconscious mutant at the alley’s mouth. You should kill him. Things would be easier if you did. And so, dropping your victim’s feet without much care, you strode over, finding a small gap in the wrappings around your palm, you extended a small spear from your flesh with the intention of jabbing it through his head and silencing what he saw here forever. 

But there were little voices calling out from a small earpiece nestled in his ear canal. You tilted your head, plucking the bud from the side of his head and holding it up to your own ear.

“Scott? Scott can you hear us?!”

“We’re tracking your location, hang tight!”

“I’m en route, stay alive asshole.”

A kaleidoscope of voices blended together, though the last one had you dropping the earpiece and crushing it with the heel of your boot. Someone was coming. A big someone. Someone whose voice you really hoped didn’t match his body. 

You should kill him. You really should kill this Scott guy, but something about the concern and fierce loyalty of those in the earpiece stopped you. This man was loved. He was cared for. Most of your victims didn’t have anyone. No family, very little friends, and all with some kind of penchant for criminal activity. Alec, for example, was finding himself becoming a little too familiar with the gates of a primary school. The more you watched him, the more you found yourself utterly repulsed by the way he would try and get the attention of those kids. Those children. 

But Scott had people who would care if he died. And so you let him be, pulling and pushing him upright against the wall before jogging back over to your actual victim and resuming your strained attempts to drag him off to your chosen location for the night. 

An ancient, local church, ironically enough. 

Logan raced through the streets, across busy roads and through closed parks, leaping over fences and gates effortlessly. He knew Scott’s location, Jean begging him over coms to do what he could. He was still alive, The Professor could sense it, but how the mission had immediately gone south, he had no idea. But at least Scott was still alive. At least, he was for now. 

“SCOTT!” He called, slowing his steps as he closed in on his location, his claws sliding from his knuckles. The metallic scent of blood flooded his senses, but it wasn’t Scott’s. He knew what Scott’s blood smelled like, having punched him in the nose a few times for the scent to be memorable. No, this blood was new, unfamiliar, and reeked of mutation. Which he supposed made sense.

Blood manipulator. That was the last thing Scott had said before he fell silent and before his channel died completely. And stalking up to the mouth of the alleyway, he could see why. Scott’s earpiece lay crushed on the concrete, little pieces scattered across the floor. Peering into the alleyway, Logan’s heart raced as his eyes cut through the darkness to find Scott himself lying slumped against the wall, his head hanging low. Logan bent to one knee, placing two fingers against the side of his neck to feel his slow yet strong pulse. The same pulse that would be associated with someone unconscious. But there was no head wound. Nothing to indicate he’d been completely knocked out. 

“Is he–” 

Logan looked back to see Ororo landing behind him, her hair slightly wild from the wind. She must have flown her way over, avoiding the nightlife altogether. 

“He’s alive. Unconscious, but alive. You heard what he said, right? Blood manipulator. I think our guy must have slowed his heartbeat or somethin’. There’s no wound anywhere…” Logan gently moved Scott’s head in search of any kind of blunt force trauma but found none. Not that he was expecting to find anything, since the only blood he could smell was unfamiliar. And it lead right down the alley and out the other side. “Gonna need ya t’stay here, Storm. Make sure Scott’s alright.” He kept his eyes focused on the darkness ahead, and the small sliver of light beyond. 

“And where’re you going?” Ororo asked, crouching beside him as if to physically demonstrate she’d stay with Scott. Logan sniffed the air again, almost able to see the blood trail the scent was so damn strong. 

“Followin’ our man. We don’t know if he bagged his victim, but if he was here with Scott, then he was after Alec, and I don’t see him anywhere, do you?” He asked, raising a brow to the woman by his side, who shook her head. 

“No. And I didn’t see him from above either. Alright, you go. But be careful, Logan. He’s unpredictable and now we have an idea as to how dangerous. If he can knock Scott out cold like this, he shouldn’t be taken lightly,” Ororo implored, watching as he rose from his crouch. Logan huffed an irritated sigh, having to restrain himself before he rolled his eyes. 

“I’ll be fine. Look after Cyclops.” Was all he said, before taking off down the alleyway at a light jog, following his nose and turning left at the end. 

“Logan, this isn’t a good idea. You can’t charge into the unknown with no information other than blood-manipulator.” Jean’s voice echoed in his ear, and he once again felt his lips pull up into a small smirk. 

“Why, you worried about me?” He provoked, chuckling when he heard her deep sigh, pinching the earpiece between his thumb and forefinger. “I’ll send up a flare if I need ya.”

“Logan don’t–” 

Whatever Jean was about to say was lost when he tossed the coms unit onto the ground, leaving it and all methods of communication behind as he continued on toward his target. He couldn’t believe his eyes when his nose led him to a looming church, stained windows dark from the inside, spires towering high into the night. This couldn’t be right. Either his nose had failed him, which was unheard of, or the killer had a wicked sense of humour. It must have been the latter, the stench of blood increasing tenfold as he crossed the neatly mowed lawn outside, taking the stone steps two at a time and up to the wooden double doors. 

His ears twitched as he caught distant screams from inside, deep enough that anyone passing by would be completely oblivious to any goings on within. Once again, he released the hold he had on his claws, razors slicing through his muscles and flesh as they slid from his knuckles. He took a breath, bracing a hand on the centre of one of the doors before he pushed slightly, the hinges’ echoing screech causing him to freeze, letting the sound settle before he moved. The screams continued, and as sick and twisted as it was, he used that to gauge whether or not he’d been heard. So far, remarkably, so good. 

Stealth wasn’t his strong suit. Never was, but he cursed every heavy footstep that bounced off the wooden beams and stone walls, even the stained glass seemed to be mocking him, some ridiculous depiction of a halo-wearing baby with the proportions completely incorrect, being carried by an equally disproportionate-looking woman who seemed to be bathed in holy light. Once upon a time, he may have found comfort in the frieze. Now he simply thought it ridiculous. How could there be a god when mutants like him walk the earth? When mutants like this killer were allowed to wander around completely free? 

He shook his head of the thoughts. Now was not the time to contemplate divinity. If he wanted to discuss religion, he’d have a conversation with Kurt. He followed his senses, down the aisle between the pews and up to the lectern, his head snapping to the right and through the door to the sacristy. Once again measuring his steps, Logan crossed the altar and into the shadows behind the pillars, that same coppery scent of blood lingering on the slightly crimson-stained doorknob, the faint smokey smell of mutation told him this was the killer’s blood. Had the victim fought back somehow? He assumed he’d done the same thing to them as he had to Scott, knocked them out before dragging them away. 

Shoving the door open, Logan took a moment to look around. Nothing much, other than a large closet, a chest of drawers and a small bathroom sink with a mirror. A rug covered a large portion of the floor, the patterns almost psychedelic in nature, but this was where the scent was strongest so far. Here, in this room. Then where the hell was all the screaming coming from? He could still hear it, in the distance, beyond several walls of stone, or deep beneath–

Logan paused, his eyes flickering from the bare walls to the rug on the floor, one corner ever so slightly raised from the ground. With determined curiosity, he tugged on the fabric, pulling it back from the ground before tossing it completely into a corner. There, now revealed, a wooden trap door. He couldn’t help but think it was a little cliché, to have a trap door leading down to some kind of torture chamber, but if the chosen location told him anything, it was that the killer had a flair for the dramatic. 

To hell with stealth at this point. Logan crouched, gripping the large brass handle and throwing up the door so it clattered loudly against the floor. He was glad he had excellent vision, as the darkness beyond would be enough to turn away even the bravest of souls. And yet, here he was, taking step after step down into the pitch black, his eyes reflecting what little light there was. Perhaps the setting was more fitting than he originally thought because it truly felt like he was descending into the pits of hell with each careful step. The scent of blood now fused with the acrid scent of urine, and the musk of sweat. It was enough to have him almost gag, but he kept on going, led by the sounds of broken screams. 

Until those broken screams were cut viciously short. 

Logan stopped in his tracks, bracing a hand against the damp wall, a crippling sense of failure weighing heavy on his shoulders. He hadn’t been fast enough, and now Alec was likely dead. He couldn’t think of another reason why the killer would just cut off his screams like that. But what unnerved Logan further, was that now one voice had been silenced, another was rising up the dark, dank tunnel. There were two. The motherfucker had managed to grab two victims in one night. What the fuck was he using them for? Why torture them? What was he looking for?

A pinprick of flickering light teased him from the distance, the literal light at the end of the tunnel winking in the distance. How far down had he gone for the exit to only now be visible? Had this guy really dragged two bodies down these stairs already today? A picture was forming in Logan’s mind. He had to have some kind of muscle on him to be able to carry weights such as these. But he couldn’t let himself get comfortable in his predictions. That would only lead to chaos. So he kept his mind open, the only thing he was fairly sure about was the fact this killer was a man. 

Not that a woman couldn’t be capable of this kind of thing, but he’d seen the size of some of the victims. Either she was some kind of bodybuilder or a man. One seemed more likely than the other. 

He felt like he’d been in this stupid fucking tunnel for years by the time his eyes needed to adjust to the flickering torchlight, the steps levelling out to a long, claustrophobic stone hallway, the low arch of the ceiling barely high enough for him to stand up completely straight, the tips of his brushed up hair lightly brushing the damp brickwork. He continued creeping forward, a cone of more flickering torchlight illuminating a doorway ahead of him and to the right. 

The secondary voice gurgled another agonised scream, and Logan felt a decent amount of urgency fuel his steps, half jogging the remaining feet up to the archway, peering around the stone.

His stomach clenched, eyes widening. Well, that would show him not to make assumptions. The killer wasn’t a man. 

You were a woman. 

The two victims were strapped to chairs, back to back, a knife in the mouth of one, the other’s head– Alec’s head, hung limp. In the lap of the other, you held a map, blood dripping from both your palms.

“Point.” You spat, delivering a harsh slap to the side of his face. “And so help you, your answers better match up.” 

With shaky movements, your captive craned his neck down, pointing the quivering tip of the knife against a random point on the map you’d lay in his lap, tears flowing down his face as he whimpered in utter terror. Logan watched as you raised your hand over Alec’s head, contorting your fingers as he groggily returned to consciousness. He couldn’t see his face before, and Logan would spend a long time wishing he could return to that ignorance. Two dark, bloodied holes replaced the sockets where his eyes should be, tears of sanguine had rolled down his cheeks, staining his flesh until it bled into the exposed muscle of his cheek. 

“Finally, we’re getting somewhere.” You took a step back, snatching the map from your second victim and drawing a circle with the bloodied tip of your finger. After so many deaths, the cacophony of screams that kept you awake at night, finally you had a lead. “And what is it exactly th–”

You stopped, your nerves alight with alert. 

Logan whipped back behind the archway, pressing his spine against the wall and keeping his breathing steady. He didn’t hold out hope you hadn’t seen him, and he was incredibly thankful for that, clenching his fists when your voice echoed in the expanses of the chamber. 

“I can feel it. The mutation in your blood. Scott’s friend, I assume?”

With a long sigh, Logan stepped out from behind the archway and into the light. 

“Friend is a strong term. Associate.” He responded, his eyes flickering to each of your palms as crystals of crimson extended from the two wounds in your flesh, taking the form of jagged blades. Your head tilted to the side, hood shifting slightly for the light to catch your eyes. 

“Scott’s associate…” you mused lowly, striking out with surgical precision to the two captives, keeping your wince locked away as your two blades crunched through their skulls with a sickening squelch. 

Logan clenched his jaw, keeping his chin held high. “No explosions this time? Entrails seem far too organised for you.” 

“A fan of my work? Sorry, I don’t tend to do meet-and-greets. Although I’d be willing to sign your corpse for you.” You held your blood blades tight in your palms as you bent your knees. You wouldn’t be getting out of here without a fight. And whilst you could feel the mutation in his blood, you had no idea what it was exactly that he could do. The claws were an obvious giveaway, but was that it? You’d come to learn to put all assumptions to the side and be prepared for anything. 

Years on the streets had taught you that.

“Why?” Logan asked, taking a steadying breath.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Why?” He repeated with just as much conviction. “Why do this? What’re you looking for? Why’re you doing this?” He watched you falter slightly as if genuinely taken aback that he was interested enough to ask. “You coulda killed Scott, but you didn’t. Y’not afraid of causing pain, but you left him unharmed. Why?”

Too many thoughts were running through your head. Truthfully, you didn’t want to admit that you couldn’t. He had nothing to do with this, and whilst yes he got in your way, he was innocent. None of these people were. None of your victims were. Least of all, you. 

“Why ask? Did you want me to? Yikes, that’s some rivalry you got there.” You deflected, twirling one of your blades in your hand. “Tell ya what, I’ll finish the job for you, free of charge.” You grinned behind your mask, taking a step toward him, dragging the tips of your crystalised blood blades along the ground, leaving little crimson trails as you walked. 

“Got a lotta lip, ya know that?” He growled, watching you like a hawk as you slowly stalked forward, step by careful step. 

“If only you knew the trouble my mouth gets me into…” You paused for a moment, crouching low. Anticipation crackled in the air, sparks of adrenaline igniting the room before you launched forward, keeping low to the ground. 

Logan tracked your movements, bending his knees and bracing his claws in front of his body before your blades cracked against his, literal sparks flying from the contact point as you stay low, your other hand braced against the floor, leaving bloodstains on the stone. Your leg swept toward his, and he wrenched his claws from where they’d tangled with your blades, taking a quick step back to avoid your jab.

Using your momentum, you pushed off from the ground, spinning upright just in time to parry a slice from his claws, your blood thrumming with the impact. He was strong. Really fucking strong. Annoyingly strong, in fact. You hated having to manipulate the vessels and cells within your body, but the moment his fists arced down toward you, you had no choice but to increase the blood flow to your biceps, wincing slightly as they shuddered and flexed in response, but it was just enough to catch him off guard, your two blades crossed between his six claws. 

You didn’t let the moment linger, delivering a harsh kick to the centre of his stomach and using the almost rock-like surface to send yourself a few steps back, sweat already trailing down the inside of your mask. 

Logan bent double, grunting in discomfort before lowering into a similar crouch to your own, watching closely as your blades dragged along the ground once again, leaving little slices of crimson. You raised your head in challenge, the flickering torchlight catching two sparks of sanguine red eyes, pulsing slightly as your mutation shimmered from your hands, veins bulging up your wrists. Something tugged at his chest, and he stilled for a moment. It looked almost… painful. The way he could see every pulse of your heart thumping within those bloodborne blades. 

His head tilted to the side, and you felt discomfort crawl over your skin. Was he… studying you? In the middle of a fucking fight? And not the ‘I’m studying you to see your next attack’ kind of way. You grit your teeth, irritation flaring in your gut as you launch forward, anger and frustration now fuelling your movements. How dare he. How dare he try to read you like this. He didn’t even fucking know you. But the way his features slackened slightly, the ever so small tilt of his head. You wanted to tear him to ribbons. 

Logan shook himself from his thoughts as you surged forward, once again bracing himself for the flurry of swipes he could sense was coming his way. Only–

You ducked to the side.

Your blades retracting back into your palms as you slid past him, grazing the centre of your hand against the floor in a wide arc. What the hell were you doing? What the fuck was with all the acrobatics. You’d done nothing but flip and spin around him, barely going in for any hits. He whirled around, claws still held before him in closed fists, but you looked… done. 

Like you’d already won. 

“Well, this has been a pleasure. But I’m afraid I’m a very busy woman,” you paused, placing a hand on your hip as if you were having a casual conversation in a shopping centre. “And you’re wasting my time.”

Logan barely had time to think before the bloodstains on the ground shifted, and in every place you’d dragged your palm across the stone, a sharp spear shot from the marks towards him, impaling through his suit and into his chest, his legs, back, and shoulders with a sick, wet crunch.

Through agonising pain, he finally understood what you were doing. Setting up a fucking trap. Any attempt to move resulted in tearing fire through his body, a rough cry of pain flying from behind his gritted teeth, before it became too much as he sank to his knees. Your sigh almost sounded disappointed, and he watched through hazy vision as you brought out a bandage from your belt and started to wrap up one of your palms with a slight hissed wince. 

You’d expected him to be dead by now, and yet somehow he was still clinging to life like a tenacious limpet. An irritated huff warmed the interior of your mask as you flicked your unbound hand, another jagged spear of ruby sailing from your palm and through the centre of his stomach, wrenching another agonised cry from his throat. 

“Fucking hell… still here? Most would be dead by now.” You folded your arms across your chest, wandering over to where he was still bent double on his knees, heaving rasped breaths. 

“Most of ‘em can die.” He snarled back, his strength slowly returning as his regeneration worked overtime to remove the whipping spears from his body. You watched as they shifted in response to the resistance, fascination curling like smoke in your head. What the hell was this guy?

“And you can’t, I presume?”

“Nope. Not yet, at least.”

“Huh,” you shrugged, your eyes flaring as you wormed those tendrils back through his flesh, something twinging in your chest as you did so. “That’s… unfortunate,” you crouched in front of him, running your fingers along one of the tendrils of blood holding him still, your eyes falling to the little X symbol on his leather collar, recognition striking you like lightning. “Wait… I know you. You’re one of Xavier’s, right? Never thought he’d meddle in simple human murders,” you thought for a moment, regarding him. “Doesn’t it bother you? Being nothing but a weapon to him? Just a gun to point at the enemy whilst he’s the one who claims the victory?” You provoked, finally garnering a response as he all but growled at you, bloodied teeth bared. You had half a mind to use his own blood to sew his mouth shut, but you were curious about him. A mutant who couldn’t die, running around playing soldier for someone who would never walk the battlefield himself. 

Sure he should be the one pulling the strings. 

Logan knew you were trying to get under his skin. Metaphorically, of course. Physically, you’d already achieved that, the sharp bolts of agony with every slight movement told him that much. But he needed to get under yours. 

“I know what these people did,” he breathed, chest searing with each fiery inhale.  “The ones you choose. I know why you kill them, but why torture them?” He continued through gritted teeth, tugging against the lashing spears through his body.

“You think that’s what this is? Me cleaning up after this world’s scum? I should add myself to that lengthy list.” You growled back, gesturing wildly to the walls around you. “These people know something. The fact they’re all child predators is simply luck. But don’t you think it’s strange? An orphanage burns down and none of the bodies are found?” 

Logan stopped his struggle. “What…? How d’you–”

“Nothing. Not even skeletons. Doesn’t that make you wonder where the hell those kids went? The disappearances throughout the city, all kids. All mutant kids.” You could see the cogs turning in his head as he processed what you were saying, and what it meant. 

“Y– you’re looking for information…” He muttered with understanding, and you nodded.

“The men at that warehouse… they’re always hanging around schools and –before it burnt down– the orphanage,” your eyes flickered to stairs beyond the archway, and the distant shouts echoing down the hall. “It’s a slave trade. A mutant slave trade.”

“How d’you know?”

“I… I can’t tell you that.” Something twisted in your gut as his expression shifted to something softer, despite the obvious pain he was in. You didn’t want to hurt him. It was a sudden realisation that you’d acted too hastily. Assumed he was here to eliminate you after the series of events you’d caused. But you should have known the moment he started asking questions. Sure, he was probably here to put a stop to what appeared on the surface to be a sequence of grizzly murders, but he’d asked. He wanted to know why. Not many others had done that. And there was something else flickering in his strikingly haze eyes. 

He didn’t want to kill you. Not now he knew. 

Your head whipped back to the archway, where those distant shouts had increased in volume and, terrifyingly enough, proximity. You could clearly catch the repeated calls of a name. His name. 

Logan. 

“Look, if you want to help, there’s a gala happening at Thornbury Hall, west of the city. Saturday the 18th. Meet me there or don’t, it’s your choice. But you come alone. I’ll know if you don’t.” You hissed hurriedly, flicking your fingers to withdraw the countless spears from his body, and he screwed his eyes shut as his wounds immediately began to knit back together, muscle and tissue reforming with an unbearable itch, the crystalised blood liquifying once again, staining the stone red. 

“Logan?!”

Your breath quickened as you looked back to the archway, and Logan could just see the fear reflecting in your barely visible eyes as you took a few steps back. He wanted to stop you. Wanted to tell you that you didn’t have to take this on alone. They could help. He could help. And there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he wasn’t going to take the olive branch you’d just extended. 

“How’ll I know it’s you?” He asked as he stood to his feet, eyes narrowing in suspicion despite himself. He hadn’t seen your face. Just two scarlet eyes behind a rather unnerving, featureless mask. Your head flipped between looking at him and looking past him to the archway skittishly, hurried footsteps growing louder as his other associates honed in on your location. 

“When you get there, look for a man with a runic tattoo on his neck and ask for Alecto.” You explained, continuing backing up into what looked like just a regular wall. But the greatest thing about ancient buildings such as this was the secret little entrances and exits installed for servants, refugees. Criminals.

“Alecto?” You couldn’t help but huff a small laugh at the slight smirk on his face, the amusement lacing his tone despite your efforts to try and kill him not moments ago.

“Look it up.” Was all you said, before slipping through one of the cracks in the wall the moment he turned around as two other mutants rushed through the archway. You barely caught sight of Scott and the other before you were gone. 

“Logan! What the hell? You can’t just go dead like that, what happened to your coms?” Storm ranted before falling silent, panic entered her eyes as she registered the state he was in. “What… what happened to you?”

Logan looked back to where he’d last seen you, finding an odd kernel of relief to see you’d completely vanished into seemingly thin air. “I found our gal. Put up a good fight. Slipped out when she heard ya comin’ and I was immobilised.” He shrugged nonchalantly as if he hadn’t just let the very same killer they’d come here to hunt slip away.

“She– wait, she?” Scott asked, clearly having recovered from whatever Alecto had done to him. 

“Yeah, she,” he nodded, before sighing heavily. “Look, no point in standin’ round here ‘n chattin’ about it. Charles is gonna wanna know what I know.” 

“And what is it exactly that you know?” Scott asked, suspicion lacing his tone, his arms folding across his chest almost in accusation. Logan rolled his eyes.

“A helluva lot more than you, Slim. Let’s go.”

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

Wrapping-up the loose ends of “Elrond = Sauron” in 2x07 tent scene theory

My followers know I’m the captain of the “it was Sauron, and not Elrond” in the tent scene with Adar, in 2x07, and he’s the one who kissed Galadriel theory. And while I’ve made several posts about it, already, there are still a few loose ends to this theory.

Other posts on the subject: Megathread “Elrond = Sauron” in 2x07 (Part 1 and Part 2); Melian mentioned (here), recognition between Adar and Sauron (here), and the connection between Sauron and Elrond in Season 2 (here).

Why did Elrond lose the cape when he’s returning to Lindon? 

Was it to “look cool”? Acknowledging this in a show with so many plots going on and limited screen-time can’t be random. Why show the audience this when they could spent those minutes fleshing out other plots? 

When he arrives at Eregion, in 2x07 (+ meeting with Prince Durin) he’s wearing a different cape and pin, obviously. Because those were lost. 

And the show told us, in 2x07 and via Elrond himself, that Sauron is keeping an eye on the roads from Lindon to Eregion: There is evil in those hills. Ancient, and filled with malice. Sauron means for us to go that way. We must go another. The Enemy is doubtless watching both roads.

This can indicate that Sauron retrieved Elrond’s cape and pin (instead of my initial thought of him taking them from the place Galadriel was taken by Adar, in 2x04).

In the tent scene, "Elrond" is also wearing his cape in a different way to his usual self (including from his previous scenes in the episode, in his scene with Durin and when he arrives at Eregion):

The shoulder pleated detail on “Elrond” cape in the tent scene with Adar is something we never saw on Elrond’s character. He usually wears his capes in a different style.

We saw, however, this type of pleated in another character, back in Season 1. Can this be a nod to that?

What’s the deal with Adar and Galadriel?

Elrond arrives at Lindon in the same episode “the body” carrying the message from Adar shows up at Eregion gates. And it clearly didn’t say “where is he?”. Because Adar knows Sauron is there, and that’s not the reason why Sauron gets so distressed, because he’s the one who told Adar that “Sauron” is at Eregion, in the first place.

He’s also the one who told Adar that Galadriel is Sauron’s ally, back in 2x01: Since Galadriel’s defeat, she sought out a new ally. An ancient sorcerer, to instruct the Elves in forging a new weapon. One you first told her about. A power over flesh.

But judging by Sauron’s reaction to "the body", this was a seed he didn’t intent to plant on Adar's mind:

And this could explain why he was in such a hurry for the body to be buried and shown to no one else. Because someone might know how to read Black speech (we saw Galadriel understanding it back in Season 1, when she was with Elendil at the Hall of Lore of Númenor, and unravel the founding of Mordor plan) or whatever language it was. The body most likely said Adar has taken Galadriel as captive. And this makes sense, if he thinks she’s Sauron’s ally.

Which can explain why Adar was so distrusting of Galadriel, in the same episode. Adar wanted Galadriel to confirm "Halbrand is Sauron", but also to understand the depth of their connection. Because he saw them fighting together in 1x06, and Sauron "confirmed" they are allies. The “wine and dine scene” was probably a trap from Adar’s part, and it was never his intention to actually make an alliance with her, in the first place (or he was “testing the waters” on that one).

She mentioned Nenya (which he can use for his goal) and who carries it, but Adar, most likely, realized that Galadriel is in love with Sauron, too (I won’t waste time here on the Halbrand vs. Sauron discourse, because I already wrote a post about it). And he wants to use her as bait in the next episode, to lure Sauron out of Eregion. Because there’s no way, this corrupted elf, thousands of years old, fall for that “he promised me an army” lie.

Only it's Elrond that shows up. Or... is it not?

The showrunners have confirmed they are doing a Galadriel/Frodo parallel in “Rings of Power”. And in Season 2, Adar is paralleling Gollum. And, so, the tent scene is meant to parallel Gollum’s trap with Shelob; when he betrays Frodo to an agent of Sauron by setting up a trap. And both of these scenes have some “kissing” involved: in the film adaptation, Shelob licks Frodo’s face (to paralyze him), and “Elrond” kisses Galadriel.

Only in “Rings of Power” this agent of Sauron is “Elrond”. But Elrond is already paralleling Sam in the show. What's most likely happening here is that they are “killing two birds with one stone”, by having Sauron shapeshifting into Elrond (the agent of Sauron is himself), but also emulating Sam by providing Galadriel/Frodo with a means to escape (pin/Phial of Galadriel and Sting).

 

What's the deal with this shot?

Is this only to symbolize Light vs. Dark, as I’ve seen getting thrown around? But that explanation doesn’t exactly make sense because the “Dark” is Sauron, and Adar isn’t on Sauron’s side, at all. Adar’s entire character arc is Season 2 it’s precisely his rebellion and vow to destroy Sauron once and for all.

I would argue the “light vs. shadow” aesthetic is not the explanation for this choice, and there’s something else at work here. Mostly because we have Adar saying this in the tent scene:

Eregion has fallen into shadow. It belongs to the Deceiver now, as does every Elf within its walls.

You are all familiar with “shadow of Morgoth” (it’s been mentioned by Celebrimbor in 2x08), and now I’m introducing you to the concept of the “shadow of Sauron” in “The Return of the King” book, when Sauron's spirit rose above Mordor like a black cloud, and stretched out his hand towards the army of the West:

And as the Captain gazed south to the Land of Mordor, it seemed to them that, black against the pall of cloud, there rose a huge shape of shadow, impenetrable, lightning-crowned, filling all the sky. Enormous it reared above the world, and stretched out towards them a vast threatening hand, terrible but impotent.

Why Vorohil of all characters?

We know Elrond is the commander of the Elven army, and Gil-galad, the High King of the Noldor, is also there for the battle. We also see Rian (the she-elf that sacrifices herself later on). But Vorohil is nowhere to be seen when the Elven army arrives at Eregion: he’s not by Elrond’s side nor is he in the “charging scene” at the Orc army:

Where did he come from? And why would Elrond choose him, out of all characters, to accompany him to a negotiation with Adar?

Vorohil is a mere soldier; he’s described as “an Elven swordsman who joins Elrond's band of warrior-elves”. Why not bring another commander or high-rank soldier, or even Gil-galad himself, to a key meeting that could mean the end of the battle before it began?

Something, something about Saurons connection with fire, because Adar’s tent was lit during this scene.

Then we have the fact that “Elrond” conveniently sends him away at the end of the meeting. But what’s ever stranger is: how come Vorohil didn’t know Elrond went to Khazad-dûm and met with Prince Durin before this scene!? How didn’t he know his commander went to another location before the battle begun?

And when Vorohil returns at the end of the episode, to warn Elrond the Dwarves aren’t coming to help, he’s also conveniently mortally wounded with arrows, and dies. (I guess Sauron has been practicing for his torture of Celebrimbor in the next episode?).

Why didn’t the battle stop for Elrond meeting with Adar?

Once “Elrond” returns from Orc camp, there’s a full-on battle happening at the walls of Eregion, far from the camp. Which seems to contradict the point of the meeting itself. Wasn’t this suppose to be a meeting to discuss terms or even a hypothetical truce between the two armies?

Because this is Adar’s offer to Elrond: give me Nenya, take your army back to Lindon, and let me deal with Sauron myself, because you can’t beat me nor save Eregion.

And yet, the battle is already on? Why are the armies fighting each other when their commanders are meeting to discuss terms at Orc camp? This doesn’t make any sense. Unless the “commander” in the tent with Adar isn’t Elrond, at all. And the real Elrond is engaging in battle elsewhere.

Why is Elrond mourning the white horse?

It’s because Elves value all living beings and nature and stuff? Could be, except we haven’t see Elrond associated with horses in “Rings of Power”, have we? Sure, he rides a horse as a means of transportation (like most characters), but he’s not symbolically associated with them. So this scene comes out of nowhere.

There is, however, another character that’s very associated with horses (particularly white), ever since Season 1: Galadriel

And this symbolism (Galadriel = white horse) is already associated with another character, ever since Season 1, too:

Sauron's illusion in 2x06: [children laughing] “It’s a horse!”

The white horse was killed by an Orc, and he licked the blade with the blood. This enraged “Elrond” so much he goes on a murder spree and kills this Orc in a very over the top way: by catapulting him into Eregion’s walls.

We already saw the “white horse Galadriel” being bled in this episode:

Adar just threatened to parade Galadriel’s head on a pike in the tent scene. And “Elrond” snaps, and does this:

Why is Elrond catapulting stones into Eregion walls? Isn’t that against his entire goal of protecting these very walls? Why he’s causing further damage to it? Because he’s not Elrond, at all.

Yes, “this Elrond” was still Sauron, and this was hinted by the show itself:

Why do Elrond, Galadriel and Sauron have the same face wound?

I already talked about this in another post (concerning Morgoth’s crown wound, and its consequences), but I think this is, yet, another clue to it was Sauron, and not Elrond in the tent scene with Adar, in 2x07. It’s the only explanation that makes sense.

How did Elrond get his own scar? Either in the midst of the battle, or the same way as Galadriel: we know, for a fact, Sauron didn’t cut her face in their fight scene in 2x08, the wound “magically” appears on her face after she cuts his face (and it can’t be a error of editing when three characters have the same wound).

Why does Galadriel face scar looks off?

At the end of 2x08, Galadriel “magical” face wound is still a visible on her face, even after her healing. Only, it looks kind of strange now, because it looks like a burn mark, and not a cut.

You are all, probably, familiar with the "Eye of Sauron", but that's not the only thing he's (in)famous for in Tolkien legendarium, and I'm talking about the Black Hand of Sauron, of course. I already did a post about this theme, and how "Rings of Power" is giving us a whole of focus on Sauron's hands and touch.

Even stone cannot hide the mark of one whose very hand is flame unquenched. He was here. Sauron was here. (Galadriel; 1x01)

In “Fellowship of Ring” book we have a description of this, by the account of Isildur, when he cut the One Ring from Sauron’s hand:

The heat of Sauron’s hand, which was black and yet burned like fire.

Spoiler alert, one major character will die due to Sauron’s touch in the Siege of Barad-dûr, during the War of the Last Alliance (Season 5).

And “Rings of Power” has already gave us a description of Sauron’s true form, via Mirdania, in 2x04:

It was tall and its skin was made of flames, it came towards me, breathing, reeking of death. And I saw-- I I saw its eyes pitiless and eternal. I think it's been here I think it's been here among us all along..

Now, you are probably confused as to “why” and “how” would Sauron be able to burn Galadriel, when he has touched her face in the past (1x08).

He did it in her presence and in his own physical form. Sauron is using his powers here, and tapping into the Unseen word, too, where his true form exists. Elrond is not his physical form, obviously. So that’s probably the reason for this burn mark. Why not the lips, too? Well, it’s the “black hand of Sauron”, not the “black lips of Sauron”.

[myceliacrochet]

Itaf and Mazen's love is beautiful, I love to see it. We are Facebook friends. She said the other day that each donation and kind word is a rose we place on her path. May Itaf and Mazen live happily ever after.

The words of her GoFundMe:

"Hello!

"I am Itaf and this is my husband Mazen.

"My husband is everything to me, and I am his everything... and we are being starved. We want to be together, and we want to see each other smile again in peace. Our love is unique to us, we don't want to lose each other. We don't want a world where one of us doesn't exist anymore. We desire the end of this constant anxiety, hunger and danger. Our love is strong and we want to connect with the whole world, we have so much to give back. Please feel your power to support us through the tiniest contribution, so we can leave Gaza eventually for freedom and peace.

"What happened to us?

"My husband and I live in Rafah, Gaza under harsh conditions. For more than five months, we have been under bombardment, war and fire.

"My house was severely damaged due to the bombing that was next to me. The shrapnel fell right on top of us. We narrowly escaped death. Many of my neighbors and relatives died because of these attacks. So we couldn't stay and had to relocate. Our new "house" is mainly made of tin sheets (see picture below).

"We are now in severe hardship, hunger and thirst. We eat grasses, animal feed and drink polluted salt water to survive. There is no water, food, or treatment. Even though the little we have, every morning if possible, we feed the cats and make sure they got something as well.

"We want to escape by all means. Please support us get out of here. You can make a difference even by donating a coffees worth.

"Helping us means that you give us life and live safely. Help, to get us out of this burning hell here. The bombs are dropping mercilessly on our land.

"Every minute makes a difference. Every little amount counts. A small amount that doesn't hurt you, can make the biggest difference to us... you personally don't have to carry a huge burden, we are asking for a collective deed, when many people give a little, we will make it. Thank you so much.

"❤️

"---

"Adressing your commonly asked questions:

"1. Can we trust this?

"Our friend in Germany has started this campaing for us, because we in Palestine are not allowed to do a GoFundme. Our friend will make sure the money reaches us safely via Western Union. Thank you so much for helping and asking!

"2. It feels like a losing battle

"That's true for every time you give a Dollar to a homeless person as well, and you still do it from time to time, so they can get something to eat today.

"In our case, we are trapped in the real life squid-games or hunger games. You can actually help a ton by giving 1$ and spread the news! We are still alive... the battle is not lost yet.

"3. Focus on two people? Then what about all the other people?

"We love this thought, because it shows so much compassion, but it will cause hopelessness and inaction. You are here now, so if you want to help, here is a good place to start. Just even 1$ and spreading this campaign on social media to reach our goal will make the biggest difference. Thank you!

"(If you want to help furthermore, we'd greatly appreciate if you consider donating to the UNWRA Gaza relief fund as well).

"This is a scene from my diary of harsh conditions. It was a very good day I bought half a kilo of rice, cooked it, and now I'm done. I was trying to buy a kilo of sugar but it is insanely high priced.

"4. Why this specific amount and does it really help?

"The little bit of food we can still get here got extremely expensive, so even just staying will be costly if we want to stay alive. The costs of coordination at the Rafah crossing will go through the Egyptian Hala company. One of the burdens we have to carry is non-reliable bureaucracy, the cost is $5,000 - $10,000 per person. There are road and crossing fees from Rafah to Cairo of approximately $100 per person. I do not know how much it costs to fly from Egypt to the host country where Carolin invited us to. So our aim is to get $20.000 (which translates to 22.500 Euros incl. the GoFundMe fee) to at least get the Rafah crossing for sure. If we have extra we can afford to get to our host country as well, which would be the absolute dream - but our first goal is to get out.

"5. How do I stay informed?

"I post my Inside-Gaza diary on Facebook and Instagram, please feel free to follow me there, I will post updates!

"Follow my diary on Facebook

"Follow me on Instagram

"Furthermore Carolin will help keep this Fundraiser up to date!

"6. Why should I help?

"Because we can only succeed when everybody gives a little bit.

"This is our current home, thanks for your help even for the slightest bit! Greetings from Gaza...

"7. How often is the money being sent?

"The donations are being transferred on a regular basis, so that they are with Itaf and Mazen as soon as possible.

"8. How is the money being used?

"It will be used to evacuate eventually and in the meantime to buy food and water, to survive the harsh conditions.

"--

"Thank you for taking the time to read this and for considering supporting our cause."

Donate:

https://gofund.me/79bcce1f

Vetting:

I don't know of any vetting for Itaf and Mazen. I just know them on Facebook, and the RIS is clean on all the pictures in this post.

@acehimbo @butchfeygela @bisexualspeed @butchjeremyfragrance @k1teko @ohjinyoung @revoltingcocks @yampulp @eraserheadbaby2 @nocturnal-notes @rememberthelaughter2016 @parfaithaven @gryficowa @tittyinfinity @6o3o9 @fantasykiri5 @sadbiooi @battleofthegarys @illpunchababy @alliterate-accident @flashingdaydreams @s7ar-sai10r @tallytals @monotremesoup @dlxxv-vetted-donations @ilikefoodandyourmom @i-named-my-cactus-albert @pogasssm @thethrillbasisindeterminable @agremlinthing @huzni @bagofbonesmp3 @hussyknee @divorce-enjoyer @treffyfrinn @effen-draws @thatsonehellofabird @neechees @queerpotat @queerstudiesnatural @maester-cressen @lampsbian @freddyfazbearboyfriend

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

RTA, was Catherine treated for cancer or pre-cancer cells? Royal Reporter Rhiannon Mills wrote that "In March the princess confirmed that pre-cancerous cells had been found following abdominal surgery and that she would have to undergo a course of preventative chemotherapy." Kensington Palace never corrected that statement by Rhiannon Mills. I admire Catherine a lot but her two video statements to the public on her health left me confused so I thought I would ask you for clarification. Thanks!

Let's work through it step by step. I'll bold the timeline so if you don't care about analysis or explanation, you can scroll through quickly.

In January 2024, KP announced that Kate was undergoing a planned abdominal surgery.

Now, "planned surgery" has confused a lot of people, especially after KP announced in December 2023 that William and Kate were planning a visit to Italy at the request of the Foreign Office. If they knew Kate was having surgery in January, why did they announce the trip?

So all that "planned surgery" means is that Kate was under doctor's care for a medical condition and for whatever reason - either exploratory (e.g., she's had an issue for a long time, nothing's worked, let's open you up and see what's going on) or emergent (e.g., bloodwork came back wonky or new symptoms developed that only surgery could address) - they scheduled her for surgery.

Here's an example of planned emergent surgery. Many years ago on a Saturday afternoon, I - a professional klutz - badly hurt my ankle falling down the stairs. I went to urgent care believing it was a bad sprain, only to find out that it was actually a very bad break that most likely needed surgery to fix. Urgent Care referred me to an orthopedic surgeon. We called the orthopedic surgeon Monday morning, they fit me in Monday afternoon, and at the appointment, the orthopedic surgeon said "yeah, you really need surgery. I'm not in the OR until Thursday but my partner is operating tomorrow and he can fit you in in the morning." I said "Sign me up for tomorrow, doc." So even though the cause for my surgery was emergent, it was still a planned surgery because it was scheduled in advance.

An emergency surgery is when you're rushed to the hospital (usually an emergency room) and they roll you right into the operating room after being evaluated.

So all that said, it's likely that whatever medical issue Kate was having, the initial expectation was that her surgery would be an easy-breezy-outpatient cake with just a few days at home to rest and then back to work and onwards to Italy. Except it wasn't because KP announced Kate's recovery time was going to take a good several weeks and her and William's schedules were cleared.

At the end of March 2024, Kate announced that her condition had actually been cancerous and she was undergoing preventative chemotherapy.

Here's what she actually said: “In January, I underwent major abdominal surgery in London and at the time, it was thought that my condition was non-cancerous. The surgery was successful. However, tests after the operation found cancer had been present. My medical team therefore advised that I should undergo a course of preventative chemotherapy and I am now in the early stages of that treatment."

The read-between-the-lines is that whatever procedure Kate had done, it was totally routine and something had been removed, which was sent for biopsy, which concluded cancer was present, and further testing (most likely bloodwork and/or additional scans) determined that no other cancerous cells had been detected. And while the testing determined no other cancerous cells had been, Kate's medical team did a risk assessment and most likely they felt that there was a good risk that cancer could continue developing so they prescribed preventative chemotherapy to decrease that risk.

Now the issue is that "preventative chemotherapy" is a bit of a misnomer. The actual medical term is "adjuvant chemotherapy" ('preventative chemotherapy' is the colloquial everyman non-medical term), which is when a patient undergoes chemotherapy after a primary course of treatment to kill remaining cancer cells or to reduce the risk of cancer returning or spreading.

In Kate's case, the surgery she had in January ended up being the primary treatment to her cancer. She then underwent chemotherapy to reduce the risk of that cancer returning.

Kate's statement also revealed two other things about her condition:

That whatever Kate's initial issue was (the one that led to the surgery in the first place), the surgery addressed it and that problem was no longer afflicting her.

Preventative/adjuvant chemotherapy is a popular treatment for cancer of the breast, lung, bowel, and ovaries. Since KP and Kate both confirmed it was "abdominal surgery," we can probably safely conclude that whatever Kate's condition, it was related to her bowels/intestines.

In June 2024, Kate released a second statement about her treatment to manage everyone's expectations about her attendance at Trooping.

She said: I have been blown away by all the kind messages of support and encouragement over the last couple of months. It really has made the world of difference to William and me and has helped us both through some of the harder times. I am making good progress, but as anyone going through chemotherapy will know, there are good days and bad days. On those bad days you feel weak, tired and you have to give in to your body resting. But on the good days, when you feel stronger, you want to make the most of feeling well. My treatment is ongoing and will be for a few more months. On the days I feel well enough, it is a joy to engage with school life, spend personal time on the things that give me energy and positivity, as well as starting to do a little work from home.

I'm looking forward to attending The King's Birthday Parade this weekend with my family and hope to join a few public engagements over the summer, but equally knowing I am not out of the woods yet. I am learning how to be patient, especially with uncertainty. Taking each day as it comes, listening to my body, and allowing myself to take this much needed time to heal. Thank you so much for your continued understanding, and to all of you who have so bravely shared your stories with me.

For me, this message is very much targeted to the press and the public who may think her appearance at Trooping means everything is all good and she's back to work. I also feel like it is a very direct response to criticism that she isn't really sick if she's out and about smiling in public - and it's also probably the most direct response we've ever seen Kate give to the media since begging the paparazzi to leave her alone in her 20s.

In August 2024, Rebecca English revealed that Kate had been unwell long before January's procedure.

For me, Becky's article confirms that the January surgery was probably exploratory after other treatments didn't work.

And also for me, Becky's article is a KP-sanctioned clapback to more criticism of the "if she's well enough to go to Wimbledon, she's well enough to work" variety. I don't want to say it's a complete defense of Kate and KP's handling of her health issues (because her discussion of the Waleses' summer activities - though well-intentioned - further supports the workshy narrative that's dogged William and Kate since they married) but it does serve as a follow-up to Kate's June message about what her progress has been like and is another attempt to manage expectations about Kate's return to work.

In September 2024, Kate announced that she had completed her chemotherapy and was in a new phase of recovery and convalescence, and starting to look forward.

She said: As the summer comes to an end, I cannot tell you what a relief it is to have finally completed my chemotherapy treatment. The last nine months have been incredibly tough for us as a family...Doing what I can to stay cancer free is now my focus. Although I have finished chemotherapy, my path to healing and full recovery is long and I must continue to take each day as it comes.

Kate's use of the phrase "stay cancer free" likely means she will be under closer medical observation for the next several years. Whether that means more scans and tests to monitor her condition or medication she needed to take or substantial life changes she needs to make, all of that counts as work towards "stay[ing] cancer free". So Kate may be out of the woods as far as the initial diagnosis or emergency may go, but she still has a long road ahead of her in terms of recovery.

In fact, medical practice requires a patient to be in complete remission for five years to be considered cured of cancer so I suspect that may be what Kate is referring to, albeit in plainer non-medical language.

Shortly after Kate's statement, on September 9, 2024, Rhiannon Mills (reporting for Sky News) recapped Kate's condition.

She said: "In March the princess confirmed that pre-cancerous cells had been found following abdominal surgery and that she would have to undergo a course of preventative chemotherapy."

On November 11, 2024, Sky News republished Rhiannon's September 9th article to say "In March, the princess confirmed she was having preventative chemotherapy after cancer was found in tests."

The edit has caused conspiracy theorists all over the internet to pick up the story and begin accusing KP/Kate of faking cancer again because "pre-cancerous cells" isn't actually cancer. It's cells that could turn cancerous and even still, preventative chemotherapy is a proper course of treatment to address pre-cancerous cells.

But here's the thing. Out of everyone that was being briefed by KP and out of everyone who has access to royal and royal-adjacent circles, Rhiannon Mills is the only one to say "pre-cancerous cells." Everyone else cited Kate's own words and KP's own announcement. That's a big hint right there that Rhiannon and Sky News messed up.

And also, before KP released Kate's statement in March, others on the rota - including Bower (who specifically said this on television) - were hinting that Kate's surgery had been very serious, her condition was serious though not fatal, and the public would be shocked if we knew what they knew. That's not pre-cancerous cells.

So for me, all signs point to yes, Kate actually did have cancer. She didn't know she had cancer until whatever her surgeons removed in January 2024 was biopsied. She most likely underwent further tests after the biopsy results came back and those tests concluded cancer was no longer present but yet her doctors still advised preventative/adjuvant chemotherapy to reduce the risk of cancer returning or spreading. So that could mean that whatever additional tests Kate had done identified pre-cancerous cells or it could just mean that the doctors felt "this is the Princess of Wales, the future queen. We should give her the best treatment possible to ensure she remains healthy, which is preventative/adjuvant chemotherapy."

(Preventative precaution is the same reason Camilla had a hysterectomy in 2007; she's had several gynecological issues that could have developed into a bigger problem so rather than to "wait and see," her doctors advised hysterectomy. It really honestly is par for the course not just for women in the monarchy but for all women - and men too - who want to do everything they can to remain healthy. It’s why we get knees and hips replaced and we get cataracts removed and some women choose mastectomies despite having no diagnosis when there’s a family history of breast cancer or they have the BRCA gene, etc.)

What a lot of the conspiracy theorists and trolls are dismissing is that when you have cancer but you don't know it, you're still a cancer patient. When you have cancer and it's eradicated by whatever combination of treatments, you're still a cancer patient. When you've been diagnosed with pre-cancerous cells and your doctors prescribe preventative chemotherapy, you're still a chemotherapy patient. When you're going through a shitty time but you still show up for your family with a smile on your face because cameras are going to be there, your troubles are still there even if no one else sees it.

So I think Rhiannon Mills mispoke and no one caught it until just now when everyone was pouring over all the statements Kate has made in light of a very glamorous and normal (if you will) appearance on Saturday night while being pictured on Sunday looking tired and run-down.

But of course, YMMV.

And also, even Page Six has come to Kate's defense, saying that "Sky News correspondent Rhiannon Mills erroneously reported at the time that 'pre-cancerous cells had been found' in Middleton as opposed to the royal battling cancer." And when Page Six is defending the Waleses (considering that they're on the Sussexes' payroll), I really do lean towards Rhiannon Mills screwing up and no one catching it until the article started getting traction amongst the conspiracy theorists and trolls.

[princessracecar]

“Describe to me in detail the exact texture of a perfect pumpkin pie.” Says Armand from behind his notebook.

“Uh” says Janet, the manager at the all night bakery exactly 3.475 miles away from the condo he shares with Daniel.

He doesn’t need Daniel knowing about his plans and Daniel is a great many things, but stupid is not one of them.

The bakery’s two regular employees, Elizabeth and Garret shoot them furtive glances from behind the counter. He’s not allowed to talk to Elizabeth and Garret anymore. Apparently he was being “creepy” and “intense” and waiting to ambush them with questions out in the parking lot was also not acceptable. Daniel wants him to rely less on his vampiric gifts. “If you’re going to act like a human, you should maybe try to actually act like a human” he had said. Whatever that means. Armand hasn’t been a human in a very long time and many of their behaviors are confusing to say the least. But if he isn’t to use the Mind Gift to parse the answers he needs, he needs to be… personable.

And so he sits with Janet, who had agreed not to call the police on him as long as he promised to “stop being weird” and buy something. The look on her face implied that he should buy several somethings. Perhaps many somethings. There was now a box of individually wrapped slices of cake settled on the table next to them in the corner booth that they are currently occupying. He can’t bring the cakes back to Daniel because then he will absolutely know something is going on, but perhaps he can leave them on the doorstep of a family the next street over without arousing suspicion.

He can tell that Janet is trying very hard not to ask him why he doesn’t try some of the pies the bakery has on display. It’s a fair question. Maybe he can pretend to be allergic to eggs. There are eggs in pies aren’t there? Food is so much different now than it was when he was alive. He takes a breath he doesn’t need and says very quickly “This is my first Thanksgiving with my husband and I want it to be perfect.” There, that was a normal thing to say. It even had some relation to the truth. Somewhat. If you squinted a lot. Janet, however, visibly relaxes in the booth across from him and beams in delight.

“This is Armand.” Says the still smiling Janet to the tall and rather disheveled looking blonde woman wearing chef’s whites with her hands buried in some sort of floury mixture spread out across the top of the metal table in the back room of the bakery. The woman had tersely introduced herself at Katia before turning to Janet and proclaiming “Isn’t that the guy who was being weird on the security cameras?”

“This is shortcrust pastry.” Says Katia after several tense minutes and a very pointed eyebrow from Janet. Armand dutifully writes “shortcrust pastry” in his notebook.

Katia takes on the air of someone about to deliver a very in-depth lecture. The slight tightening around her eyes (as well as her inner monologue) implies that he had better pay attention.

“It’s used in both sweet and savory pastries, tarts, and pies and is referred to as a “short” crust because the texture is light and crumbly.”

Katia explains to him the process of making the pastry. For some reason there is rendered animal fat involved and he is made to absolutely promise that he will not use “the devil’s ingredient” although he is utterly unsure what “Crisco” is. Perhaps some sort of poison.

“We roast our own pumpkin in house. It’s sourced from a local farm that’s known for their pie pumpkins.” says Katia. Armand feels his eyes widen ever so slightly in doubt.

“Of course, you can always use canned pumpkin” she continues with the air of someone who has just suggested that he eat raw sewage.

“It appears very… orange” hazards Armand. Katia narrows her eyes at him.

“I am certain most humans love it!” He backpedals. Katia gazes at him a moment longer and then visibly moves on.

She shows him the finished pies balancing on the cooling rack. They are no less orange than the roasted pumpkin that she had shown him earlier. He had looked up pictures of pumpkin pies on the internet and hoped that they would perhaps look less orange in person. He thinks that actually, the opposite is true. At least the baked ones no longer looked like soup.

“And people enjoy these?” He asks

“Yes.” Says Katia irritatedly. “Now get out of my kitchen.”

He strolls home through the night, box of cakes wedged awkwardly under one arm. He had no idea human food was so complicated. He supposes that he hasn’t given much thought to human food in a very long time. When he was alive it was more about sustenance than pleasure. He realizes that he wants this meal to be pleasurable for Daniel, after all it will be his last Thanksgiving as a human.

[kiwiweewee]

Like a Prayer

It's wild to me that Madonna's Like a Prayer has become this superhero genre, intense, emotional song. Mainly because the song's history. I've been on tiktok and I've seen the choir version of the song played for edits of Batman and various other heroes and while I'm glad the song is popular, it's kinda crazy that it is being applied the way it is. The song was really controversial upon its release. I only learned about this because I had a young high school teacher who was writing his own curriculum and decided to talk about it one day, so shout out to Mr. Challinor. Like a Prayer was considered controversial not only due to its religious theming/language in an otherwise sexual song but also because of the music video. The song itself. As said above, there's a lot of religious language that serves as a double entendre to sex. It's worth mentioning that the setting of the music video is a church, so Madonna sings this while surrounded by religious imagery. "I'm down on my knees, I wanna take you there" "In the midnight hour, I can feel your power" "I close my eyes, Oh God I think I'm fallin" But this isn't the only thing to get her in trouble. The music video got her into hot water as well. While less sexual than the lyrics, it was a reflection of America and its politics. Madonna's character witnesses the brutal robbery and possible sexual assault of another woman by a group of white men. These men also kill the woman. A black man tries to come to the woman's rescue as the men leave, but when the police arrive, he is arrested for the murder. Madonna's character hides in a church and reflects on what she witnessed. Nearby, there is a statue of a saint who resembles the black man from earlier. Madonna falls asleep and has a dream, where she is kissed by this saint. She awakes and decides to go to the police to give her account of what happened. There are several depictions of burning crosses, something the kkk would often do. The audience knows the black man is innocent, so his arrest is suggested to be more than a wrong place at the wrong time scenario. He, like many black people in America, is considered a criminal/suspect out of prejudice. This whole plot may not seem radical now, but at the time, Madonna received a lot of hate. The Vatican condemned the video, several religious and family groups protested its broadcast, and she lost her Pepsi sponsorship after they used the song in an add and a boycott on the soft drink began. So you can see why I think it's wild how such a controversial song turned around to be a new superhero anthem. I actually like Deadpool and Wolverine's use of the song. The music video's message and subject of minority treatment is something that connects well to the X-Men canon. It's also a spoof on masculinity in a sense, with these big muscular men having this emotional handholding moment while Madonna, a notable queer icon, plays. I have no qualms with its usage in the film and I think it's inclusion is very deliberate. I'm actually not against the usage of it now. I guess that I'm just in awe at the massive turnaround this song has had in the way it's viewed. And hey, a bop's a bop, right?

[bellamyblake]

Why we're here

After Roan stabs Bellamy, he doesn't leave him behind but instead decides to bring him to Polis with Clarke thinking it will help his case with the commander. Bellamy can barely walk though and Clarke tries to support him and help out any way she can even if she has to put her own life on the line. Angst and feelings ensue.

Canon divergence,Hurt/Comfort, Angst;

"Come on, just keep going, he'll let us stop soon." Clarke whispered in his ear as she kept supporting him, feeling his body get heavier in hers, his breath fanning her ear, his fingers digging into her back.

They were walking through the forest, Roan ahead of them, tugging a rope that was wrapped around Bellamy's right hand and Clarke's left, leaving them to support each other with the other two as they struggled to follow him.

"Clarke, I-" he said desperately in a way she had heard him only once before, three months ago when they were standing outside Arkadia and he was begging her to come inside.

She didn't want to look in his eyes but knew she wouldn't be able to stop herself either-when she did, she felt like she was going to drown and pulled them to a stop, digging her feet into the dirt and feeling Roan's rope cut through her wrists as the same happened with Bellamy's left hand that was a lot more lifeless than hers.

This definitely wasn't how she expected their first meeting to go after such a long time-she felt like she caught a glimpse of Kane, Indra and Monty while Roan was dragging her away from the Ice nation army but she had no idea Bellamy would come into the old metro station and try to save her.

That stupid idiot.

Roan had caught up on his heavy steps, he was an amazing shooter and a good hunter, she had been out with him many times while they struggled to feed the kids back on the early days but today he had been loud, reckless, he wasn't checking his surroundings, he was just running to her.

That idiot. That goddamn stupid idiot.

When she saw how easily Roan pushed him down and stabbed him in the leg with such intensity, twisting the knife into his thigh hitting him several times in the face, she felt like she just wanted to throw herself over him, protect him like he had tried to do for her, but she had been tied up and nothing would help.

Then Roan hit her too and for a moment she lost consciousness until she woke up, surely not that long after, maybe half an hour, from him shaking her shoulders and pushing her up. Bellamy was only halfway there but he was sitting as well-he seemed pale, his face was sweaty, his leg was bleeding.

"What's going on?" she had asked him while he tied the ropes around her and his hand.

"We're going to Polis and I'm bringing both of you to the commander. At first I didn't recognize who he was but when I saw how hard you were fighting for him, I knew this must be Belomi from Skaikru, the man who helped you destroy the mountain." Clarke's heart sank in her chest and she wanted to punch herself for being so stupid.

"Lexa will be thrilled when I show her who I got out there-Wanheda and her precious soldier." Bellamy groaned next to her and looked at him from under his angrily furrowed eyebrows.

"Fuck you!" he spat in his feet and that just provoked Roan even more. He smiled and kneeled down, pressing his hand against his wound and digging his finger in it, making him squirm and lean back. Bellamy groaned loudly but held his ground.

"Stop it!" Clarke begged in the same desperate manner as before but Roan ignored her.

"Next time you say something this stupid or disrespect me, this will be my knife." he threatened before taking his hand off and wiping it in his clothes.

Then he pulled them up and made them stand.

"Come on, you'll help him walk." he told Clarke and gestured between their free hands in the middle-so that was why he had tied them up this way, Clarke realized, he was planning on her being his supporter all this time. He could've let them walk separately but she realized now, that they were standing up why he didn't-Bellamy was barely putting any weight on his leg, his pants were soaked, she could see it even through the dark material and he was already breathing heavily and probably running a fever.

"Are you kidding me? He can't walk, not like this. I need to check the wound." Roan smiled as he pulled their ropes again and forced them to make a step. Bellamy limped hard, then swayed and almost fell-if it wasn't for her fast reflexes, he would've fallen and dragged her down with him. But she managed to wrap her arm around his waist and sneak her body under his arm, propping him up.

"No." Roan said simply "If he falls, I'll kill him and keep going with you so make sure that doesn't happen." and off they went.

Now they were struggling to follow him and not just that, Roan tugged them every time they slowed down. Bellamy tried to put up a brave face for her but he really hurt, she could tell, he was limping very hard and leaning more and more on her.

The problem wasn't just pain-she could see he was handling it as well as he could, he had a high treshold, she realized, something she didn't know but which made sense considering it was Bellamy-he took on everything no matter what it was. The problem was the bleeding which was significant. From what she could tell, Roan hadn't nicked an artery wheather on purpose or not but but he had hit close to it and Bellamy was going to get worse soon.

She had to do something. That's why she forced them to a stop. Roan turned around and looked at her uninterested with her shenanigans.

"Come on!" he pulled the rope but Clarke held her ground and jut her chin.

"We need to stop. He's too weak. I have to bandage the wound." she insisted.

"No." Roan said as simply as before and pulled them again. Bellamy stumbled and because she got distracted, she wavered some of her support and he fell on his knees, groaning loudly. She crouched beside him and covered the wound, feeling the stickness of his blood against her palm immideately.

"He'll die if I don't do something." she insisted and Roan walked back to them.

"Then he dies. I told you I don't care. You are the prize, he's just an addition to it."

"But it's better if he's there too, isn't it? I'm sure it'll help you negotiate whatever it is you want from Lexa if you bring her two throphies instead of one." Roan shrugged but there was hesitation, he could tell that.

"She'll probably kill him anyway."

"She won't. She knows he's the reason we made it in that mountain, he's valuable." Roan laughed a little and looked at her with interest.

"To you maybe. Not to the commander." he was close now, really close and she was eyeing the knife strapped to his leg, the same one he used on Bellamy.

She looked up at him in defiance and knew exactly what she had to do, she swayed left, pretending to try and hit him but instead her heads went to the knife, grabbed it and instead of pointing it at his body, she pressed it to her neck and jut her chin.

"You kill him, you kill me!" she said quietly as her eyes bore holes into his.

Link in reblog

[nerdylilpeebee]

1) again, not whataboutism.

2) I have severe ADHD and argue online a lot. Not my fault I largely forgot a conversation we had.

3) Hillary literally campaigned using the "I'm a woman" card. XD democrats absolutely push forward anti-male beliefs when they think it will win them voters. To Harris's credit, she did not use that card, but there were literally commercials made in support of her trying to tell men they needed to vote Democrat or Republicans would steal their porn. Some serious sexist bullshit with that shit.

And no, I actually don't put on her that her followers are anti-male. But the fact remains, who backs a political candidate will matter to voters. Shit, literally look at Trump. People are doomsaying about him because the Heritage Foundation, known white supremacists and authors of project 2025, endorsed him. Same with the fact that many white supremacists also support him.

4) I absolutely know the bigger issues exist. And I never said abortion restriction wasn't an issue, I said it wasn't OPPRESSION. There is a massive difference between being an issue and being oppression. And quite frankly, I don't give a fuck if you have faith in my ability to prioritize. XD I am one trans woman on the internet who engages in discourse. I can and will care about whatever I want. And besides that, sexist bullshit is not a minor issue and never will be, especially to me. What you consider "too minor to care about" is irrelevant to me. I do not require your approval.

5) it's not just radfems who are anti-male, Hun. The left has had a serious anti-male bias for a long fucking time now. Quite the portion of the left doesn't even believe you can be sexist towards men. That is absolutely something that matters. This should be the side that is anti-discrimination of all kinds, but they are anti-male, antisemitic, and racist (even towards poc who don't vote how they want them to). Shit, a lot of leftists even only respect trans people if we're unproblematic. The second we commit a crime they stop acknowledging trans women as women and trans men as men, acting like acknowledging us as what we are is a privilege they get to revoke. The left has a lot of fucking issues.

It is not wrong to care about that.

This is actually wild. And I'm pretty sure nearing illegal. These people want you dead. And they keep yelling out so everyone hears. This is legit advocacy for murder. And for what? Because you can't kill the unborn? Except what changes? Trump said he won't ban abortion. And even SUPPOSING he did it's very likely against the 14th amendment anyways.

And abortion is never life saving. So again. What's your issue? What's so bad you'd advocate for murder? You all belong in a looney bin.

[whorenerdking]

mom: you forgot to do this one minor thing and because of that I'm going to point out how much of a fuck up and disappointment you are, okay love you :)

me:

[caeslxys]

I’ve mentioned this elsewhere but it feels relevant again in light of the most recent episode. Something that’s really fascinating to me about Orym’s grief in comparison to the rest of the hells’ grief is that his is the youngest/most fresh and because of that tends to be the most volatile when it is triggered (aside from FCG, who was two and obviously The Most volatile when triggered.)

As in: prior to the attack on Zephrah, Orym was leading a normal, happy, casual life! with family who loved him and still do! Grief was something that was inflicted upon him via Ludinus’ machinations, whereas with characters like Imogen or Ashton, grief has been the background tapestry of their entire lives. And I think that shows in how the rest of them are largely able to, if not see past completely (Imogen/Laudna/Chetney) then at least temper/direct their vitriol or grief (Ashton/Fearne/Chetney again) to where it is most effective. (There is a glaring reason, for example, that Imogen scolded Orym for the way he reacted to Liliana and not Ashton. Because Ashton’s anger was directed in a way that was ultimately protective of Imogen—most effective—and Orym’s was founded solely in his personal grief.)

He wants Imogen to have her mom and he wants Lilliana to be salvageable for Imogen because he loves Imogen. But his love for the people in his present actively and consistently tend to conflict with the love he has for the people in his past. They are in a constant battle and Orym—he cannot fathom losing either of them.

(Or, to that point, recognize that allowing empathy to take root in him for the enemy isn't losing one of them.)

It is deeply poignant, then, that Orym’s grief is symbolized by both a sword and shield. It is something he wields as a blade when he feels his philosophy being threatened by certain conversational threads (as he believes it is one of the only things he has left of Will and Derrig, and is therefore desperately clinging onto with both bloody hands even if it makes him, occasionally, a hypocrite), but also something he can use in defense of the people he presently loves—if that provocative, blade-grief side of him does not push them—or himself—away first.

(it won’t—he is as loved by the hells as he loves them. he just needs to—as laudna so beautifully said—say and hear it more often.)

[aeolianblues]

it is literally not about legality, if you’re in your late 30s literally what are you hitting up 21 y/os for. Don’t you have investments to make.