#that the same hands that are used to destroy

[cosmicdahlias]

Christmas Across the Rio Grande

Logan Howlett x Reader

MINORS DNI

Christmas has come and you’re spending it getting drunk with an old, hardened Logan.

tags: age gap, alcohol use, drunk sex, couch sex, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie

sooo timeline-wise this takes place at the end of 2028. i tried to do my best research as to when caliban comes into the picture and there wasn’t much, but from what i’ve read it seems logan recruited him some time in 2029, so he will not be in this fic. sorry for posting a christmas fic a day late, i only got the idea for this two days ago 😭

Life had not been the same in months. Charles Xavier, once head and founder of Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, had developed dementia, leading to frequent destructive telepathic seizures. One such seizure became known as the Westchester Incident, leaving the school destroyed, many injured, and some of your fellow mutants dead.

Having grown up in an orphanage until aging out of the system and spending the first eight years of adulthood on the streets, Charles was the closest thing you’d ever had to a father and the school was the only place that ever truly felt like home. In such a short time you had lost both. Even though Charles was still very much alive, the dementia left him a shell of his former self.

After Westchester the United States government declared Charles’ brain as a “weapon of mass destruction”, leaving you and another mutant to take him and go on the run, fleeing to an abandoned smelting plant in Mexico just across the Rio Grande.

The other mutant was the notorious Wolverine, Logan Howlett. For reasons unknown to you, his appearance had changed dramatically in the last five years. Despite not being able to age he looked like he’d gone from forty to sixty in record time.

Since escaping with you and Charles to Mexico, Logan had taken to going by “James”, his actual name, and worked as a limo driver in the border city of El Paso. He would regularly smuggle in the drugs to keep Charles’ seizures at bay.

In the days before Westchester you were never fond of Logan. He was a loner, seeming to keep everyone at arm’s length, save for those he would bed. Perhaps it was his tendencies towards promiscuity when he claimed to be in love with Jean Grey, a married woman, that irked you more than his personality.

He was passed around the mansion so frequently that from what you’d heard there were times he accidentally “double booked” himself. There was a part of you, buried somewhere deep, that harbored a resentment towards him for never seeking out your affections like he did for nearly any other adult with a pulse.

Living in close proximity since being thrust into exile with him had softened your opinions considerably. The shared trauma of losing everything and everyone had brought you two closer, as close as he would allow.

December was coming to an end. The nights were blisteringly cold and the winds only served to make them colder. The poorly insulated, run-down plant did little to protect you from the elements.

You were heading back inside from painstakingly, but successfully, attempting to medicate Charles. The heavy gales howled, making it a struggle to close the door before finally managing slam it shut. You turned around to see Logan sitting on the couch, bottle of whiskey in hand. He was wearing his typical non-work attire, a white tank top and jeans.

“He finally down?” He asked.

“For now, I swear those drugs used to knock him out for longer. He wouldn’t stop going on about Taco Bell for some reason.”

“Yeah, he uh… he does that a lot now.”

You gave a heavy sigh.

“It just sucks because it makes those moments where he acts like himself again hurt more.”

“What’d he say this time?”

“He just- I don’t know- whenever he actually says my name I know it’s him in there. Most of the time he calls me Jean, but I-“ your voice began to break “I don’t know how much more of this I can take Logan, watching his mind wither away into nothing.” You said, tears forming in your eyes.

For a moment you swore you saw a flicker of concern spread across his face.

“I’m thinking of bringing in some extra help.” He said.

“And what? We risk someone else knowing that we’re harboring a fugitive?”

“With me working that leaves you as the only one here most of the time. If god forbid something happens while I’m out and he hurts you, what then?”

You fell silent. He was right, you couldn’t keep caring for Charles alone when his seizures could be so dangerous and unpredictable. You had no rebuttal.

“Fine, but finding another mutant won’t be easy.”

“I’m well aware, but I’m done talking business, you look like you could use a drink.”

Logan extended out his bottle of whiskey, a rare invitation for you to join him. You smirked and took it.

“Look at you actually wanting to interact with someone for once.”

“Don’t make me regret it.”

You sat next to him on the moth-eaten couch, drinking a few shots worth from the bottle.

“Thirsty?” Logan asked with a cocked brow.

“Shut up, it’s been a long day.” You retorted, downing another shot and handing the bottle back to him.

Between the two of you the whiskey was finished within half an hour, leaving you significantly intoxicated, him slightly less so. When drunk Logan was far more open, and for the first time since Westchester you actually saw him smile. As the night progressed the two of you reminisced about life before Mexico and shared life stories you hadn’t told each other.

“A cage fighter?” You giggled.

“Yeah, went by Wolverine back then too.”

“Wow, too lazy to even try to come up with another name?” You teased as you looked down at your phone and read the time, midnight of the 25th.

“Oh shit, it’s already Christmas.” You said.

“Honestly wouldn’t have known if you didn’t say anything, the days just run together at this point.”

“No kidding, everything’s so different now.”

“… Yeah.”

A wistful silence hung in the air for a moment before you spoke.

“You know it’s hard not to miss the holidays back at the school… can’t say I miss Jean’s cooking though. I know how you felt about her, but that woman could not season food to save her life. I’m pretty sure she thought salt was too spicy.”

Logan gave a chuckle.

“Can’t disagree with you on that one.”

“I think what I miss most was seeing the kids all happy on Christmas morning, growing up in an orphanage I never got that for myself. Thanks to Bobby they always had a good snowball fight.”

“I miss that kid. Him and Rogue.”

“Kid? They were both pushing 40.” You laughed.

“They were kids when I met them and that’s always how I’ll remember them. Especially Rogue.”

“I always thought she saw you as like a father figure.”

“She definitely did, no matter how many times I told her not to.”

“I miss her so much, she was the first one other than Charles to make me feel like I belonged there. Fuck, I just miss all of them. It was only five years, but it was the best damn five years of my life, actually having something like a family.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

You gave a wry smile.

“And in the end out of all of the X-Men to be stuck with of course it had to be you.” You teased, elbowing him playfully.

“You say that like it’s a joke, but you really had it in for me.”

“I mean I did, but you didn’t exactly come off as a nice guy.”

“I can be a nice guy, you just never tried to get to know me.”

“Would you have let me though?”

“Maybe.”

He looked at you in a way you’d never seen from him before, it made your heart do a backflip.

“You know, even if I wasn’t crazy about you back then I’m glad you’re here with me.” You said.

Logan raised a brow.

“Why’s that?”

“Because as much as I hate to say it, I’ve grown to like you.”

“A mistake honestly.” He chuckled.

A cold desert wind suddenly blew against dilapidated smelting plant. Frigid air crept in through the gaps in the walls, eliciting a shiver as it hit you.

“Cold?” Logan asked.

“Y- yeah.“

“Alright, c’mere.”

Logan pulled you against him, wrapping his arms around you. His body radiated an incredible amount of heat, a more than welcoming feeling in the bitter temperatures.

“Holy shit, you’re like a fucking furnace.” You said.

“Yeah? You like it?”

“God yes.”

His hands began to wander down to the small of your back. You traced the outline of his pecs with your fingertips. He looked at you, eyes betraying an intense desire as he cupped your cheek, coming in close.

“Merry Christmas, Logan.” You whispered as his lips met yours.

Starting slow and soft, Logan’s kisses quickly turned more passionate, a distinct hunger to them. He moved his hands to your waist, pulling you onto his lap. You felt his hard cock press into you through his jeans. You rolled your hips against him, causing him to let out a growl. He lowered his head, kissing and gingerly biting your neck. You moaned as his teeth scraped against the soft skin.

His hands began to drift to the hem of your shirt, gathering the fabric in his fingers and slowly lifting it over your head. He unclasped your bra, sliding the straps off your arms and tossing its aside. You watched his eyes take in the curvature of your breasts.

“Good fuckin’ god, you’re perfect.” He whispered, cupping one of your breasts and circling the nipple with his thumb.

Logan’s hands fell to your hips, tugging down your jeans until they landed on the floor with your shirt. His fingers circled your clit over your panties, the thin barrier of fabric did little to keep you from turning into a whimpering mess.

“Goddam, I love those little noises.“

Logan dipped his head down to kiss your neck again, you moaned and began to grind yourself against him.

“Hmm, getting excited there, princess? Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Uh-huh.” You whimpered.

“Yeah? Let me make it feel even better for you, babygirl.”

Logan hooked his thumbs in the waistband of your panties, sliding them off your legs. He slipped a hand between your thighs, dragging his fingers along the slit of your dripping pussy.

“So wet and worked up for me.”

Logan returned his fingers to your clit, you dug your nails into his shoulders, the feeling of direct stimulation was almost too overwhelming. It had been far too long since you were last touched like this, or even touched yourself. You weren’t going to last much longer.

“F- fuck, I’m- I’m so close.”

“There you go, that’s it. Cum for me, princess.”

Logan pulled you into a kiss with his free hand as you came undone on his fingers, the electric pulses of your orgasm surging through you.

“Oh god, Logan.” You moaned against his mouth.

Logan kissed you aggressively as your orgasm faded. He dropped his head to your breasts, peppering kisses to them as he spoke.

“God, you’re so hot when you cum. You need to see what you’re doing to me, babygirl.”

Logan’s hands moved to his belt, unbuckling it, he unzipped his jeans and freed his already throbbing cock from his boxers. Logan took your hand in his, guiding it to wrap around his shaft. You gathered beads of precum from his head, using it to lubricate the length of his cock as you stroked him.

“Fuuuck, your hand feels good, but I need that pussy. You wanna ride me, princess?”

You nodded.

“That’s my good girl.”

You shifted yourself to hover just above is cock, sinking down onto him, barely taking more than his head before wincing as you felt his massive girth stretch you wide.

“You alright?” Logan asked.

“Y- yeah, just been a while. Not used to one this big either.”

“Then take it slow, princess. Don’t rush it.”

You continued to lower yourself onto his cock, following his instructions to go slow. A small shudder escaped his lips.

“Fuckin’ Christ, you’re so tight.”

You reached the hilt of his shaft, feeling him throb inside you as you began to lift and drop your hips.

“Attagirl, just like that. Nice and easy.” Logan said, his hands moving to your waist, pulling you closer.

“Christ, living with you was starting to drive me crazy. I could barely take seeing you in the summer, your ass in those little shorts. You don’t know how many times I had to jerk off because of you.”

You blushed and whimpered at the thought of Logan getting so worked up over you.

“Hmm, you like that, babygirl? You like knowing you made this old man stroke his fat fuckin’ cock to you?” He grunted as he grabbed your hips, thrusting up into you.

You nodded.

“Use your words, princess.”

“Y- yes, sir.”

“Good girl.”

You moved yourself up and down on his cock, sliding him all the way out until only the head remained before taking his full length back deep inside you. Logan’s eyes wandered over every inch of body. His hand moved to one of your breasts.

“Fuck, I can’t get enough of these tits, and this ass.” He growled.

He raised his hand and brought it down sharply on your ass, eliciting a yelp.

“Sorry, princess, couldn’t help myself.”

“N- no it’s okay, I like it.”

“Oh? You like it rough, huh?”

“Y- yeah.”

“Well, guess I gotta fuck you senseless then.”

In one swift motion Logan grabbed you by the waist, picking you up and throwing you down onto the couch on your back with him on top of you. You barely had a second to adjust to the new position before he forced every inch of himself inside you. He pinned your wrists above your head as he fucked you with a punishing speed.

“How’s that feel? Am I rough enough for you, princess?”

“Y- yeah. F- feels so good.”

“Attagirl.”

Logan’s breathing hitched, his hips stuttering.

“Christ, that tight little pussy’s gonna make me fuckin’ cum. Where do you want it, babygirl?” Logan panted.

“In me, I need you to cum in me. Please.” You whined.

“Jesus, I know you’re not on the pill, but keep begging like that and I’ll have to knock you up.”

“Oh god, please. I don’t care if we’re unprotected. I need it, fucking breed me.” You pleaded.

Your words ignited something within him. He thrusted furiously into you at a blinding pace, his breathing becoming ragged and heavy. He leaned down and sank his teeth into your neck and gave a loud growl, slamming the full length of his cock inside you as he came hot, thick ropes deep in you.

Logan gave a last few thrusts, his breathing beginning to settle. He pressed his forehead to yours.

“Jesus Christ, princess, it’s been way too damn long since someone’s made me feel that good. I hope you know this is not a one time thing, you’re fuckin’ mine now.”

You laced your fingers in his salt and pepper hair, kissing him passionately. He pulled out and you moved to dress yourself, but were interrupted by him grabbing your waist.

“No princess, you’re staying with me.”

He picked you up and carried you to his room, setting you down on the bed. He laid next to you, pulling you to him with your head against his chest. Between the exhaustion of the day and the warmth radiating from Logan, you felt your eyelids grow heavy. He kissed the top of your head as you drifted off to sleep.

[theredhairedmonkey]

I feel like most people kinda get the point of the season, but it does seem that there are a handful of people that are either ideologically committed to either seeing dark magic as always evil or seeing Callum as morally corrupt or compromised in a way that Rayla and Ezran are not (not sure how the latter is even remotely possible at this point), so maybe it might be good to spell out season 7's theme for everyone's benefit:

This season's theme is first and foremost about the loss of childhood innocence, a necessary step to becoming a fully-rounded adult. When Aaravos talks about losing childhood innocence, he's referring to the moment when someone realizes the world isn't as simple as they once believed - that good and evil aren't always clear-cut, that sometimes difficult choices must be made. His perspective seems to be that losing this innocence inevitably leads to moral compromise, that understanding complexity means abandoning simple principles.

And he's...actually not wrong. Ezran wasn't pure because he was such a moral paragon, but because he was innocent. He was able to position himself around ethical lines (such as refraining from violence) because he was always protected from the consequences that moral complexity brings. But once that was taken away - Katolis destroyed, facing his father's killer, witnessing Callum's supposed betrayal - it forced Ez into a situation where he couldn't take the same morally rigid stances he once did. 

Complexity invites challenges. Challenges invites compromise. 

Much like Aaravos, Callum is a character who understands all too well what this means. He lost his innocence at a much younger age when both his biological parents had died and he was forced to grow up too fast. When Aaravos says that there is "great affinity" between them, he's right in a certain way - he's recognizing their shared ability to perceive moral complexity - to understand that situations aren't always simple black and white choices. Both characters demonstrate this understanding. Aaravos sees beyond simple good and evil, recognizing that sometimes difficult choices must be made. Similarly, Callum understands that situations can be "complicated," as he says about the Runaan situation, acknowledging that justice and mercy can conflict.

However, Aaravos is also very wrong about Callum because he fundamentally misunderstands what he does with this knowledge. 

When Aaravos talks about "compromise," he means compromising moral principles to achieve desired ends. His view is that since the world is morally complex, we're justified in doing whatever serves our purposes. This is where he's wrong about Callum.

Callum's recognition of moral complexity actually leads him to become more principled, not less. When he understands a situation is complicated, he doesn't use that as justification for moral compromise. Instead, he looks for solutions that acknowledge the complexity while maintaining clear principles about who should bear the costs of difficult choices. His final plan with Aaravos demonstrates this perfectly - he recognizes the need to use dark magic (showing he understands complexity) but ensures he bears the cost himself through sacrifice (maintaining his principles).

The situation with Runaan foreshadows how he handles Aaravos - Callum's recognition of complexity leads him to find more creative ways to do what's right, while maintaining principles about who should bear the costs. Whereas Viren/Claudia would sacrifice others (i.e. creatures, people, etc.) to achieve their ends, Callum's main sacrifice is himself - he will block Aanya's arrow with his body, or resign as High Mage the second he think it would be necessary to do the right thing.

This explains why Aaravos becomes so furious when Callum reveals his sacrifice plan. Aaravos believed their shared understanding of complexity meant Callum would eventually follow his path of moral compromise. Instead, Callum shows that understanding complexity just motivated him to find other ways to stay true to his principles, even at the cost of his own life. He proves that recognizing the world isn't black and white doesn't have to lead to corruption.

By the end, he demonstrates a simple truth that forms the core of this season - the loss of one's innocence is inevitable, but the loss of one's character is not.

[wendyyyyyyyy]

"DLMLU"

This is an imagine based on the song "DLMLU" by Stray Kids.

Pairing : Hyunjin x reader

Warning: Nothing much. Just angst all the way.

Enjoy!

-----

The sound of rain hitting the windows filled the room, an almost fitting backdrop to the tension thick in the air. You sat on the edge of the couch, your hands curled into fists against your knees as Hyunjin paced in front of you, his jaw tight and his eyes downcast. He was fighting something within himself, the conflict painted clearly across his face. The tension between the two of you had been building for days, and now, it had reached a breaking point.

“I told you not to come here,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. It wasn’t anger—it was resignation, a kind of hopelessness that broke your heart. He wasn’t looking at you, his gaze fixed on the floor as if the weight of his own thoughts was too much to bear.

“I couldn’t stay away,” you whispered, the words slipping from your lips before you could stop them. “Not after everything we’ve been through.”

Hyunjin stopped pacing, his back still to you, his shoulders rising and falling with the weight of his breathing. “You should have,” he said after a moment. “You should have run the moment you realized what this is. This... us... it can’t happen.”

“What this is?” you echoed, standing up now, unable to hold back the frustration bubbling up. “Hyunjin, you can’t keep pushing me away and expect me not to care. I’m right here. I’m already—”

“Don’t say it,” he snapped, spinning around to face you. His eyes were dark, haunted, filled with a mix of longing and pain. “Don’t say it, because if you do…” His voice cracked, the vulnerability he never let show now spilling out like an open wound. “If you do, I won’t be able to let you go.”

Your breath hitched at his words, and for a moment, the only sound was the rain outside. He looked at you like he was torn in two, like every piece of him wanted you, but something inside him wouldn’t let him take the step forward.

“Why?” you asked quietly. “Why do you keep doing this? Why do you keep pretending like you don’t feel the same way?”

“Because I can’t love you the way you deserve,” he said, his voice breaking. “I’ll ruin you, Y/N. I’ll hurt you, even if I don’t mean to. I’ll let you down.”

Tears welled in your eyes, but you refused to look away from him. “You don’t get to decide that for me. I know who you are, Hyunjin. I know your demons, your fears, all of it. And I’m still here. You don’t have to do this alone.”

“That’s what makes it worse,” he said, stepping closer to you, his hand hovering near your cheek but never quite touching. “You’re too kind. Too good. And I’m... me. Broken and selfish enough to want you anyway.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. You reached out, gently placing a hand on his arm, forcing him to give in. “Then stop fighting it. Stop pushing me away. Let me in.”

For a moment, you thought he might. His gaze softened, his hand trembling as it finally cupped your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. You leaned into his touch, and he let out a shuddering breath, as if the weight of the world was resting on his shoulders.

But then he pulled back, his hand falling away when he took a step back. “No,” he said, his voice firm even as his eyes betrayed him. “I can’t. Don’t let me love you, Y/N. Don’t make me ruin you. I’ll destroy you and drag you down with me. I can’t let you fall into the mess that’s me.”

“I’m already falling, Hyunjin,” you confessed, your voice trembling with emotion. “I don’t care if it’s messy. I just want to be with you.”

His face softened for a moment, the guard he always wore slipping just enough for you to see the person he truly was underneath. But, it didn't last.

“Run,” he said coldly, his voice breaking as he turned away from you. “Run before I lose what little control I have left.”

You stood frozen, your heart shattering as you watched him retreat into himself, closing every door you had tried so hard to open. The pain in his eyes was mirrored in your own, but you knew this was his way of protecting you, no matter how much it hurt.

The rain outside blurred the city lights as you stood there, the air between you thick with unspoken words, but you knew deep down that you couldn’t walk away. You wouldn’t.

All you heard was his voice, a haunting echo of the words that cut deeper than anything else: “Don’t let me love you.”

But, call it naïve, you knew you could go through everything if it meant him finally letting his walls down and accepting you. You knew it wasn't going to be easy, and yet, you decided to stay.

------

[randomfoggytiger]

"At Least Until the Weather Breaks"

A very Merry Christmas to you, @cecilysass: hope this piece grants you a fraction of the joy your work has endlessly given me~.

*-*-*-*-*

Post Agua Mala reflections.

*-*-*-*-*

“Agent Scully, where are you?” 

Perhaps Skinner would be surprised. He had been, mere days ago, when she and Mulder showed up outside of Kersh’s office, unity shed like snake skin. He'd been doubly surprised, she knew, when Mulder guided her out later, hand once again possessively at her back. She wasn't going to explain to Skinner then-- as she walked away, a hair from her partner’s shoulder-- why she relented. Why she had deflected Kersh in Mulder’s defense-- “Sir, I wouldn’t bet against him”, with snarling control-- and left both outsiders to stew and wonder in her wake. 

And she wouldn’t now. The stretch in her partnership was no longer taut, but the vibration still rang. Spender’s son was dead, but both X-Files inmates still imagined a rivulet of his blood drip, dripping under Mulder’s reclaimed desk. Arguments were shelved, weapons set aside, and peace wordlessly reestablished before they’d left Kersh’s office. Ease was repairing itself in the mindless act of feeling each other’s presence as they packed and toted and unpacked mementos of their past in unison. They trusted, once again, to the process of symbiosis, turning from fiery conspiracy to watery mystery as unto salvation.  

“In Florida, Sir.” 

“In Florida? Wasn’t there a record hurricane down there?” An expected pause. “Is Mulder down there with you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Another pause. A long sigh: Skinner unable to discern them. “As soon as the skies clear, I need you and Agent Mulder on a plane and back in D.C. We have a meeting scheduled to discuss both your transfers.” 

A mere formality, everyone knew, for the Board’s pride. “I’ll let him know, Sir.” 

Scully ended the call, and was about to walk away from the burning Floridian sun when her cellphone rang. 

Leroy Walter Villarreal Suarez Jr. 

No kidding.

*-*-*-*-*

It was surprising, she owned: Mulder with flat bangs, Mulder with pater glasses. Mulder smoking. 

“Ah, everyone did it then,” Dales waved, warm and chiding. Never a thought in his soggy, besotted brain that she, too, had a naughty vice once. “What surprised me most was the ring. Everyone smoked, everyone had cheap haircuts-- everyone wore rings even. But I’d never met a guy who wore one for fun. Have you, Agent Scully?”

“Mm,” she replied, lips curling around a plastic cup Dales must have bought in bulk. Her partner with a ring. Her partner, gunshy of a normal life, aping a veneer of normalcy. Because that’s what he’d been doing, she was positive:  one look at his face now-- eyes darting, shoulders scrunching, lips pouting in mock distraction-- let her know that that act, whatever it had been, had been for himself. 

Diana Fowley, Scully winced, had watched him mime this normalcy and still left to climb the ladder. She’d smoothed his flat bangs and wiped away the lipstick on his trusting cheek and left to destroy the sameness of other women’s lives. 

Yet, here it is again, this large and fathomless thing between us: the root of Skinner’s puzzlement, the unconscious understanding and trust-- she shoved reliance quickly away-- that flowed too forgivingly between them. An unfathomable thing that clouded over when their ideals and faults clashed: her partner underestimating her abilities, she underestimating his loyalties. 

How could I forget, Scully had wondered as Mulder droned from her voicemail, “Hey, Scully, just got a call from Arthur Dales-- he says there’s a sea monster that’s just blown into Florida. If we catch the last flight tonight, we might be able to touch down before the state’s under water.” How could she forget that he’d always fought her on her instincts? On her own deathbed, when the cancer was destroying her from the inside out, he’d been right about Skinner; he’d been right about many, many more things than Skinner. But he’d been wrong about Diana; and she’d been wrong about wedging the Gunmen in her confrontation. They’d both been wrong, and right, and simultaneously right and wrong before; but not on the day the world almost ended. And, though there were still eight boxes to be unpacked, important reports to be typed up, churlish review boards to prepare for, Dana Scully had lifted her phone from its jack and called him back. “Mulder, a hurricane?”-- Mulder, I’m in. “Scully, a sea monster”-- Scully, like old times, old roads: we find the sea monster, we find each other. 

“Well… that’s where you’re wrong, Mr. Dales,” Mulder argued, fidgeting on the couch, trying to find a comfortable spot on this mummified-turned-humidified, Floridian-ified cloth bag. 

“Oh? You know another guy?” 

“My mother.” 

“Oh.” That must have made sense. “She raised hoity toity?”

“I was.” 

The crash of realization was so quick and so visceral that it struck her clammy skin like lightning: the son of broken, reclusive Mrs. Mulder, reconstructing his memories and muddying them with her excuses. His mother keenly avoiding the past; Mulder bending over backwards to appease and soothe before snapping upright and demanding the truth. Mulder wearing an older man’s glasses and taking up an older generation's quest and smoking his father’s cigarettes-- leaving off the nasty habit before Scully’s time, substituting with his father’s charm against nightmares. Her partner, clinging to the past while trying to find where he belonged.

These thoughts should depress; but they didn’t-- couldn’t, after she’d clung to Mulder’s hand in the torrent, tracked a sea monster by his side, and brought a new life into this large and complicated, small and simple world. Not after he’d given up quibbling over her victories. 

“’Hoity toity’?” she repeated instead, waiting expectantly for him to turn around and smile over the absurdity of their reality. 

*-*-*-*-*

“So, we drivin’ home?” 

They were situating in their storm-damaged rental, Dales’s head and arm swaying heartily from their rearview mirrors whenever he deemed appropriate. He’d asked if they'd wanted to keep a plastic cup each-- a noblesse oblige memento of the trailer park, Scully assumed. They’d both declined.

Mulder was not in the passenger seat, despite the wounds peppering his neck: dressing pulled up to his jaw, he’d chosen to obstinately pretend nothing was amiss. Not wanting to come down from the high of their experience, it was in his best interest-- the profound clench of his teeth telegraphed-- to ignore present uncomfortable reality.  

“If the wind kicks up, we could borrow an umbrella and fly back to the office.” She suppressed a smile at her partner’s chuckle, a delight still freshly cloaked in relief. 

“We’d have investigated her if she existed. You know that, Scully.” 

She did-- could imagine a chilly trip to England, Mulder reveling in the charm of ancient, storied folktale and superstition. Mutually exploring a turf that was no longer his. Oxford rising from the poetic fog, his college memories beating her childhood glimpses. He was so American she often forgot that he, too, traveled across the ocean. 

“I read the books when I was a child.” 

“Books?”

“Mm hm. A series,” she admitted, eager to share something from her past. Perhaps from heatstroke, perhaps to bolster the burgeoning camaraderie. 

Though why this memory she didn’t know: the tail end of one summer spent cooped up inside, Charlie coughing up a lung in the other room as her temperature stayed stubbornly high. Melissa, sick of calling her a big baby, convincing Bill to leave his friends to grab Dana a book from the library “so she’ll stop whining”. Her oldest brother spending the next two weeks biking back and forth as the book bug slowly infected the convalescents. Their fights, their frustration; their relief on returning to school.  

“I read the series religiously one year. Memorized whole passages by heart and recited them every opportunity I could.” Scully watched his head bob vaguely while he checked the gas and turned to reverse. “I was trying to prove a point, I suppose: my family loved the movie, and. And I wanted to… stand out.” Dana, you’re such a square. Dana, you’re such a pill. Dana, why won't you just admit you like it? 

“Stand out?” His eyes were curious, darting her way whenever the road could spare them. 

“Mm.” Was elaboration necessary, between them? She didn’t think so. Not for another while, anyway. “But when I went off to college, things changed. Everything was so new and so different…. It was isolating, in a way. It drove me back to the past.” 

Silence permeated as clumps of wrecked and ruined trees swept by. She needed to start calling local motels to see if there were rooms open. She needed to call her mom. She needed to turn off her phone and sleep until life no longer fuzzed at the edges. 

“What did you do?” Mulder prodded, wistfully. 

“Well….” Scully sighed, retracing the weave of her thoughts. “I bummed a ride to the local video store and rented it, over and over, when things got too lonely. That’s how I made it the first two years.” 

He said nothing, just slowly nodded as they changed lanes. 

*-*-*-*-*

There was nothing but time, now, to reflect-- something she'd purposefully avoided since that sordid night in the Gunmen's lair. Everything then was too muddled, too raw and dangerously close, to think about, let alone understand. But the lull of conversation, the empty silence between phone calls, the endless stretch of waterlogged, abandoned roads yawned and stretched and plucked an abandoned thought from her unconscious without notice.

She’d led the way to Kersh's door, stayed a half step always in front of her partner, pursed her lips at Skinner’s greeting, hedged determinedly away from Mulder’s closeness. A contrast to their ally ship the previous night: her eyes peering ahead, searching the dark for signs of life; his eyes glued to the crushed car she’d driven across the train tracks-- a striking contrast (she shotgun, he side-saddle) to their rote partnership. Smoke and ashes and the corpses of deceiving families looming over their heads like a conscience. Skinner hadn’t expected the battle to extend to their relationship; and she’d walked expeditiously away from his questioning eyes, guiding them both to Kersh's desk with brittle dignity. 

Neither had spoken to each other while A.D. Kersh spit and A.D. Kersh swore and Jeffrey Spender resigned and left them the X-Files. Perched in a getaway corner of the room, Skinner had missed their wordless exchange, the psychic transference they were capable of since that first fateful day in Mulder’s office: his softened stutter, a sorrowful admission of guilt; her twitching eyebrow and slackened mouth, an acknowledgement of his admission. Fault confessed, the breadth of temptation and cowardice became irrelevant in the weight of charred bodies and grave missteps.

It was easier, and harder, to shove it behind them. Eyes followed their backs out and into the hall, down the elevator, and down, down, down into another layer of chaos and death: the body of Jeffrey Spender, expendable in the face of yet another father's disappointment.

At least Bill Mulder had begged, "Forgive me," when he robbed his son of the ultimate truth.

*-*-*-*-*

“Are you still in Florida, Agent Scully?” 

That, or a broiling, humid Twilight Zone. 

They’d been advised off the road by another no-nonsense uniform; and, escape impossible, had panhandled around for a room at the inn. The ones available were of middling quality (save a truly deplorable toilet that was decorated, Pollock-style, with human fluids), but it was better than Mulder’s suggestion to pull off and catch some shuteye in a parking lot. That was too local for her tastes. 

“Yes, Sir-- for another eight hours or so. Agent Mulder has hope that the planes will be up and running by then.” 

“So soon?”

“It is Florida, Sir.” 

Her partner was seated on his single bed, half-listening while madly typing up notes. He looked up, once, before losing interest, deciding instead to abuse the backspace key with a vengeance. 

There was a parallel, she believed, that could be drawn from a neck-deep metaphor and his tender tentacle wounds. As if in sync with her thoughts, he fingered one absently; and winced. 

“Keep in touch, Agent.” 

“Yes, Sir.” Disconnecting the line, Scully debated whether to grab breakfast from a vending machine or sink, exhausted, onto her bed and never get up. The room’s smell-- a clash of coastal mist and dead algae, death and stymied life-- decided her: another second here and she’d have to think about mold. “I’m going to grab some food.” 

Mulder looked up, fingers stilled, hungry hope brewing in his eyes. “Change’s in my wallet.” How they even had wallets after the last twenty-four hours, Scully couldn’t venture a guess. Then again, their odds had been remarkably high lately. 

About time.

“I’m buying.” She was halfway out the door, shoes scrubbing against old, fuzzy carpet fibers, before his voice stopped her. 

“Scully. Thanks.” 

It was such a small gesture-- one that shouldn’t have moved her as much as it did. But Scully’s eyes stung, and her hands trembled as they tightened on the door knob. Tucking her head, she swallowed back a shaky breath; and, turning, swept her eyes around the room, once, for composure. “We slew the monster, Mulder.” 

He slowly smiled; slowly blinked; slowly seemed to take her in from head to toe. Slowly nodded. 

Giving a tight smile in return, Scully added, “I’ll be back,” before closing the door gently behind her. 

*-*-*-*-*

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

Tagging @today-in-fic, @poangpals.

[tomtenadia]

Of Ice, sneezes and libraries....

Happy Yulemas @goddess-aelin. It took me a while to find an idea for your present and then yesterday it it. I hope it's any good. I just wanted to write a bucket load of fluff and put some babies in it because I love Rowaelin as parents. At the end I play with the carranam blond because I love the idea but in the books is not as used so it appears to create some more magic.

Wishing you happy holidays and I really hope you will love this ❤️

King consort Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius, an immortal warrior who had faced armies, battled countless foes, conquered lands, deposed despots, was exhausted. 

With a deep sigh he let his heavy body collapse on the comfy chair in the library he had built for his wife, in the castle.

His wife, Aelin Whitethorn Galathynius, Heir of fire and a long string of other titles he would playfully call her during adult times. Aelin the love of his life. The woman with whom he had walked out of the abysm he had created for himself.

Lazily his head moved, taking in the vast quantity of books she had collected in the ten years they had been mated. Ten years in which both had worked hard at rebuilding Terrasen after the war. Aelin, while building alliances with foreign lands and him out, on the ground helping their citizens rebuilding what had been destroyed. He was not a man for political intrigue and courtly nonsense. He needed to use his hands. Be active, do something that involved physical labour.

On that day he had finished training some of the new recruits and now he just needed a bit of peace until his wife was free again from the meeting with an ambassador for a faraway land. He was impressed by how she had stepped up to the task of being Queen. With time the council had fully accepted her and slowly, Terrasen had started healing.

He was about to doze off when his keen fae ears picked up a noise a few doors down and with the speed of an immortal he rushed to the room.

Once inside, he started breathing again when he noticed that everything was okay, then his gaze shifted to a specific point where the crib was. There he found a set of eyes as green as his staring back at him.

His smile widened at the sight. Their daughter Aisling was standing up and calling him.

Aisling was born a year before and was his carbon copy, something that Aelin loved to complain about. “You carry them for nine months and they they look like the father.”

It had taken Aelin a while to get pregnant but the moment he felt the spark of life in his wife, he had fallen to his knees and cried while holding her. He was going to be a father. 

“What is it my love?” With long strides he covered the distance quickly and a moment later his daughter was in his arms with her head tucked in his neck. “Did you had a bad dream?”

She sniffled louder and he realised that there was something wrong with her “Are you sick?”

Not a second later a sneeze left her and the room around them plunged into winter.

He looked around with interest “Do you have ice magic like your dad?” A deep grin broke on his face “oh you and I are going to have so much fun with mum.”

Aisling moaned and he woke from his revelry. When she sneezed a couple of more times and the room turned in an icy box he realised something was wrong. He grabbed a warmer cloak and wrapped his daughter in it “let’s go and see the healer before you freeze the entire castle.”

With Aisling tightly in his arms he rushed out of the room and sped up to the wing where the healer resided. Along the way Aisling sneezed a few more times causing patches of ice to decorate the walls. He made a mental note to go back and fix it, but first he needed to look after his daughter.

With his huge form he stormed in the infirmary and demanded to see the healer.

“Your majesty, is everything all right?”

“Aisling is sick she is sneezing and creating ice and she is warm at the same time.”

The healer motioned for Rowan to place his daughter on the bed and Rowan obeyed but hovered close by like the protective buzzard his wife liked to call him.

The healer made his daughter laugh and a few icicles sprouted from the ceiling.

“Curious,” added the man “usually fae kids start to show sign of magic around five but I am not surprised that the daughter of two powerful fae is showing signs this early.”

“Will she have ice magic?”

“It will not settle for a while longer but it looks like for now that’s where she is going. Your majesties will have to start magic training for the princess quite soon.”

Rowan nodded in silence “is she okay?”

“Yes, it’s just common flu.” The man gave the king a bottle with a blue liquid “this should help her. She needs rest, perhaps some milk with honey at night before bed and she will be fine in no time.”

Aisling kept giggling and Rowan picked her up “let’s go back to your room and see if the magic ice is gone.”

While they walked Aisling kept babbling and he loved the sound. Sometimes she used real words that she was picking up from them but others it was total gibberish and he was there for it. He loved to imagine that she was telling him stories of crazy adventures in faraway lands.

After Aelin, Aisling was the second love of his life. Nothing matter when it came to her. Not even the long sleepless nights when he looked after her to allow Aelin some rest. Aisling had been the most perfect of gifts.

“Dada!” Another sneeze and another patch of ice appeared on the tapestry.” Rowan laughed “let’s go and get you your medicine”

“Ice!” She pointed out with het chubby finger

“Yes my love, you have ice magic like dada and I am so proud.” he slapped a loud kiss on her cheek and the girl snuggled close to him.

Ten minutes later they were back in the room, Aisling in bed with no intention of sleeping. A bad bout of sneezing had plunged the room into the ice age. Aisling was now crying and fussing and Rowan had ran out of ideas until he decided to use his favourite trick. In a pop of light he transformed in his hawk form and flew inside the crib and Aisling stopped crying. She studied his form and then patted him babbling happily “biddie!”

He was enjoying his daughter patting his wings that he did not notice his wife stepping into the room.

“Now buzzard, do you miss me so much that you have to turn into a bird to have your daughter cuddle you and stroke your ego?”

Bird Rowan let out a shriek and with his head he nuzzled his daughter’s hand and Aisling hugged him tight “Dada biddie!”

“Come on old man,” Aelin extended her arm and Rowan flew on it. He stared at her with his head slightly tilted in a silent conversation between the two.

Then a pop of light and he was back in fae form at her side.

“Hi wife,” he kissed her, while pulling her to him with a hand landing on her still flat belly “How are you both?”

“Fine, but why is the nursery covered in ice?”

Rowan turned and his head tilted to point at their daughter. 

“Was it her?”

“She has a cold and when she sneezes well…” his arms pointed out at the result.

Aelin squealed and grabbed Aisling in her arms “of course, not only you look like your dad, now you have his magic too? You ungrateful little thing.” A loud kiss on the girl’s cheek “This one better be like me and have fire,” she joked while caressing her belly.

“Mama ‘ove you.” Aisling wrapped her tiny arms around Aelin’s neck.

“I love you too, my baby.”

Once their daughter was in bed, Rowan accompanied his wife in the library. He let her take the big comfy chair while he sat at her feet with his head leaning against her belly, while Aelin scratched his silver hair “what’s wrong with Aisling?”

“The healer says it’s just a cold. He gave her a tonic that will make her feel better, but for a few days we might want to make sure the castle is extra warm,” he looked up “good thing we have a fire fae…”

Aelin smirked “try not to get too close to my flames if you don’t want to sizzle those pretty feather of yours, buzzard.”

Rowan in response kissed her belly “I love your fire, you know that.”

Aelin leaned forward and kissed his head “you were never afraid.”

His piercing gaze met hers “how can I, Fireheart?” A kiss on her hand “you are my equal, my heart, my everything, your fire completes me. My carranam.”

Aelin smiled and slid down, sitting near her husband “what else, my king?” Her tone suddenly changing. Rowan pulled his wife to him and kissed her deeply “maybe we should tell your citizens how naughty you like to be, my Queen.”

Aelin pushed her husband flat on the carpet and straddled him “oh old man, I’ll show you naughty.” Their hands joined together and sparks flew and magic engulfed them. The power of the carranam bond coming alive around them.

“I am yours.” An ancient promise whispered against her lips.

Later that evening they went back to check on their daughter and found the nursery completely covered in ice. In panic, they both ran to the crib and found Aisling deeply asleep under the thick blanket with her arms around the soft toy uncle Aedion had gifted her.

“She is fine.”

Rowan kissed his wife’s head with tenderness while Aelin with her magic dispelled the ice.

“Come on Fireheart, it’s late. Let’s go to bed.”

Aelin threw him a wanton gaze and Rowan lifted her in his arms and carried her to their room  “I’ll show you who is the old man.”

And as they joined in the flesh and soul once again the carranam power spread through the castle and farther out and the first snow of the season fell on the Staghorn mountains. 

taglist

@rowaelinismyotp @swankii-art-teacher @whimsicallyreading @elentiyawhitethorn @aelin-bitch-queen @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity  @mis-lil-red @thegreyj @sailorsassley @leiawritesstories @clairec79 @morganofthewildfire @sv0430 @heartless--aromantic @autumnbabylon @rowanaelinn  @susumaus98  @gracie-rosee @mybloodrunsblue @tanvee1231 @avenrebekah @whoever-you-choose-to-love  @theywillnotsingforme @universallytreepost @black-daisy-water @goddess-aelin @whispers-in-the-darkest-heart @lovely-dove-zee @athena127 @mariaofdoranelle @yashiw @renxzs  @aelin-gods-killer

[miss-tc-nova]

With Reckless Choices - Leona Kingscholar x Reader Pt 10

Happy Starlight everyone! My gift to you! We're gonna switch POVs for this one. I just wanted to show a bit of how Leona's handling things.

Premise: Leona after the break up

Words: 729

Music Inspirations: Monsters - All Time Low Feat. Demi Lovato & blackbear

~~~Vices~~~

               Leona glares at the ceiling, his empty chest keeping the lion from escaping the waking world. Cold morning light rains through the window onto his lonely bed. A savanna breeze whispers through, bringing with it hints of the world he never wants to see again.

               Nothing has been the same since the event that led to the biggest blowup of his life. He finds no light anymore and barely finds the motivation to even breathe. Even the naps he used to escape the world bring him no solace. Instead, the world just passes by as he confines himself to his room waiting for the moment all this pain will finally end. Having tasted life, he finds no reason to go on without.

               A jingle pricks at his ear. Lazily, his head lolls to look at the device he’s surprised still has any battery left. Reaching out, his hand acts without his head’s permission.

               That’s Ruggie. Heaven knows how he’s still on the team with how much practice he’s missed.

               Still…

               How dare his heart still hope.

               It’s been nearly a full year since he last saw his love—on the day of the Briar Prince’s wedding. He made the mistake of thinking he found someone that genuinely cared about him. He thought that, for once, he would be the first pick. Leona Kingscholar had fallen so deeply in love that it blinded him to the real world and now he’s paying the price. Reality firmly put him back in his place and snubbed him for even daring to think he could be happy.

               But no, he never had a chance. Instead he was insulted, screamed at, and told to stay away. Right in his face, his heart was torn to pieces and stamped into the ground even though he wore a snarl the entire time. Leona was never meant to win. Especially against that damn dragon. 

               Despite all the pain it caused him, Leona kept his mouth shut about what happened. He could’ve spilled the truth and thrown the illustrious Draconias under the bus for all the heartache caused. Yet every time he so much as considered revenge, his heart quashed the idea. He couldn’t bring himself to destroy their reputation, all because of his stupid feelings. No matter how he cursed himself, there was no changing his decision.

               To make matters worse, his family insists on trying to help him through a problem they’re grasping at straws to understand. He wants none of it and acknowledges no effort—hell, he barely even acknowledges their existence anymore. Leaving his room is a rare occurrence, so they often sit with him. Sometimes they have their own conversations or talk to him without answers, sometimes they simply sit in silence as they go about their own tasks, but the worst of all is when they turn on the television. Oftentimes, it’s his nephew watching some silly show. However, Falena and his wife like to watch the news. The news is always filled with ridiculous stories that are easy to ignore. It’s the ones that mention the Draconias that always stab at his chest. Where they were seen dining, where their honeymoon had been, the event they attended, what they were wearing. Of course he can’t help peeking at the screen when that happens, but even just hearing about them brings fresh lashings against his wavering stability.

               Those are the nights the sand grates against his skin. He doesn’t know any other way to drown out the grief.

               “Unca Leo! Unca Leo!”

               His door bursts open without even a knock. The mattress shifts beneath the excited jumping of the cub despite the lack of response from the elder prince.

               “Guess what?!”

               The family chamberlain is quick to follow.

               “Prince Cheka! Don’t bother your uncle!”

               That does nothing to deter the young lion from shaking his family by the shoulder.

             �� “Papa says we’re going to a birthday in Briar Valley!”

               Leona’s body tenses.

               No.

               “Cheka!”

               Faster than he has in a long time, the elder lion reaches for his phone. Scrolling through messages he shamefully re-reads, he feels the vice in his chest. His grip creaks around the device as his hand shakes.

               No.

               He knows better. He knows he shouldn’t. But he’s so pathetically helpless.

               “When are we leaving?”

               Fuck.

~~~~~

Part 11 (Coming Soon)

Nova’s Twisted Wonderland Masterlist

[marchsfreakshow]

Bleed For Me

Fluff? Angst? SMUT? Idfk

For my beloved @taintandviolent even tho she would eat a lot more w this concept 🤭

No one particularly expected James and The Countess to get along. Not as well as they had for a while. Elizabeth had a soft spot for you, and your wish, the one you told not a soul, was that you wanted James to be like her.

She had this infliction. You were obsessed with it. James found it innocently amusing, and wanted to play along. Truly he did.

So, they found themselves on the Countess' bed. You watched by the pillows, entranced already. "Truly, a vision still my darling." She didn't speak a word back. She wanted this to be quick, over with almost. A slit to her breast, your breath caught. Watching the blood pour out in an almost erotic way. James was only the slightest hesitant. He would've done absolutely anything the two of you asked of him. And this was it.

His tongue meeting the viscous red liquid. The held back groans and whimpers. She was doing this for you. For you. And yet, you watched still. Entraced and almost in love. You felt like an important part, an potienal third. "You two are so fucking... attractive.." Was the mutter from your lips. The Countess looked over at you, and almost smiled. A little acknowledgement of your quiet compliment.

James grew accustomed to the feeling of hunger. While his kills never stopped, he saved the blood from a victim for when he truly needed it. Which surprisingly, was rarely. He rarely needed to feed, but it was always helpful for the others in the hotel with the same affliction. You watched him kill and grew closer to asking him. Fuck it. "James?"

"My hummingbird, come in, I have just collected some more blood." You took a few steps into the room, used to the rotting stench of blood and flesh. His dirty hand found yours and he helped you into the room. "What do you need?"

"You." James flashed you a grin, obviously happy to oblige. "Not..like that..though."

"...In what other way could you require me my bird?"

"Feed from me. Straight from me. Please."

James just stared for a moment, before smiling again. The concept of hurting you was a feeling he shared with his feelings for the countess. You were ethereal beings. You must not be hurt or destroyed. Even if it was by his hand. "I'll let you. Please, James." You begged, sensing his uncharacteristic nervousness.

It only took him a second before he brought you gently over to the bed, laying you down and pressing a kiss to your cheek. A sweet kiss before he slashed your neck. Swallowing, James leaned down again, and licked the new wound. Fresh blood covering the old dried blood if a victim. You were sweet, tangy and truly the most delicious flavour he had tasted yet. After the Countess. Obviously.

Your body convulsed under him as your life was fleeting. The man on top of you did everything he could. Kept feeding, kept collecting the blood best he could. He knew he needed more of you. Possibly forever.

[lanafofana]

it was the night before christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring.... not even a little mouse.

After being read the mysterious little note vanished in a flash of fire. Lanatav frowned, the pads of her fingers that had been holding the note together were unsinged and she rubbed them together contemplatively. 

The hour was late and the room was dark and still. 

“Raphael?” She asked the silent room suspiciously. When no answer was forthcoming she relaxed a little, leaning back in her bed against the soft pillows and turning the puzzle of the note over in her mind. 

On the one hand the fiend was known for sending notes or summons at any hour of the day but they were usually much more direct. Like yanking her out of bed, pajamas and all, directly into whatever hole-in-the-dirt in Faerun he was currently lurking. 

But on the other hand he was also somewhat a slave to his own ridiculously theatrical whims. So. 

Lanatav pressed her lips together in thought before flinging aside her warm cozy duvet and sliding out of her bed and into her robe and slippers. 

The winter had been particularly brutal this year and even with all the luxury afforded a hero of Baldur's Gate nothing could seem to keep the chill out for long. With a flick of her wrist the wood in her fireplace blazed to life but the color pulled the corners of her mouth down.

It wasn't the fire of a sorcerer nor the merry flames of a wizard spell. Before her eyes the fire of the hells ate away her logs until, moments later, there was nothing but ashes. And still the fire burned merrily with nothing to keep it going. 

“What in the sweet hells?” Lanatav prodded the bright flames with her poker but all she achieved was melted iron. As close as she was to the fire, something even more curious about it was how–though it was clearly hot enough to burn and melt things– she felt no warmth from its flames. 

Considering the wisdom of her decisions had never really been a strong suit of hers so without further preamble Lanatav yanked up the sleeve of her robe and stuck her bare arm into the deepest part of the fire. 

She felt neither the tickle of flame nor the crackling of roasting flesh. When she pulled her arm back out it was just the same as it had always been. She huffed. Had she been the one to summon the hellfire? She stared at her hand doubtfully and snapped her fingers, startled when hellfire erupted from them instantly. She waved it away, repeating the cycle several times before she stopped long enough to softly beat her fist against her forehead in thought. 

She'd almost worked herself up enough into digging out her chalk and either summoning the devil directly or creating a portal on her kitchen floor and marching into his boudoire to demand answers for whatever it was he’d done when something heavy landed on her roof. 

“Oh what now,” she grumbled, cinching her robe closed tightly and donning a thick woolen cloak. Her fingers glowed with hellfire. 

Outside the snow was falling thick and heavy. In moments her cloak was covered in fat flakes that sparkled in the light spilling out from her still open door.

Through the snow she trudged, turning to look at her roof uneasily when she was at a distance to see better. Alas the night was too dark and the snow was too thick. Whatever had landed on her roof was well hidden from sight. 

“If you're an intruder I’d really rather you fucked off,” she called out, grimacing at the idea of using hellfire on someone. “If you're a creature uh,” she considered. “I might have some dried meat but you’ll have to get down before you destroy my shingles.” 

Something massive shifted in the air and moved. She felt it land behind her and, blood pumping in anticipation of a fight, Lanatav tried to whirl in place. Catching her heel on a patch of ice and feeling her feet go out from under her just seemed par for the course for how her evening was unraveling. She slammed her eyes shut and waited to be attacked or devoured or the wind to get knocked out of her as she hit the ground. None of which occurred and to her amazement she opened her eyes to find a pair of brimstone gold irises staring down at her, bemused. 

She smacked him. 

Raphael dropped her in the snow. 

“What was that for?” He demanded, looking thunderously unamused. 

Struggling to pull herself out of the snow Lanatav swore and thrust a hand towards him, wreathed in hellfire. “What did you do to me?” 

The cambion sniffed. “I gave you hellfire you ungrateful little creature!” 

“I didn't ask for hellfire,” she struggled to come up with an appropriate epithet. “Stupid!” 

He laughed, a sneering hollow sound that had sent lesser people into nervous breakdowns. 

Lanatav threw a handful of snow at him. 

It hit him square in the face. 

They both froze and then, when he spat water out of his mouth, she snorted. The snort turned into a giggle and then, while he furiously wiped white powdery snow from his face and his fine doublet, she began to howl with laughter. 

With one massive clawed hand the devil fished Lanatav out of the snow and hauled her over his shoulder. 

“How dare you!” She beat her fists against his back as a show of contrariness more than actual ire. It had to be said, the warmth radiating from his body felt marvelous after her spill in the snow. And if he noticed how she gave up hitting him and instead put her hands against his wings he said nothing, merely pushing through her ajar front door and shutting it with a snap of his fingers. 

He didn't quite dump her on the floor like he had out in the snow but only if one were to take a very generous view of the action. 

Peeling off her snow laden cloak, Lanatav remembered why she was annoyed. “I can't have hellfire, Raphael, you made me immune to its heat! It eats all my firewood and I’m left frozen solid!” She stomped over to her fireplace to find her poker and brandish the melted end at him. “Just look what it's done to my fire poker!” 

With two fingers he brushed away the offending object being waved in his face. “Anyone else would kill for the kind of power you so brazenly disregard,” he said reproachfully. 

“I don't want power, you overgrown bat!” 

Raphael scoffed. “Well then what do you want, you insipid little mouse?” 

“A warm house!” Lanatav had barely finished snarling the words when, with a snap, she was transported in a flash of light. When she blinked she stared at her surroundings a beat before rounding on the devil with another sharp word on the tip of her tongue. 

It died at the view of Raphael, Archduke Supreme of the Hells, Exalted Demon of the Unending Night, Conquerer of All Worlds, He Who Wears and Wields the Crown of Karsus, Lord of Misfortune standing rather awkwardly next to a…

“Is that a Christmas tree?” 

For a very long moment nobody said anything. Raphael was still staring down his aristocratic nose at her like she was a particularly unpleasant bug he’d scraped off his shoes. She was still drinking in the sight of an honest to god Christmas tree in the hells. A lush evergreen, decorated with baubles and enchanting lights that flickered and blinked merrily. A Christmas tree in the Hells. Truly the mind boggled. 

Then the Archduke Supreme of the Hells, Exalted Demon of the Unending Night, Conqueror of All Worlds, He Who Wears and Wields the Crown of Karsus, Lord of Misfortune shifted on his feet. His tail swished. He frowned at her. 

“Did you do all this for me?” Raphael blinked at her tone. His arms had been crossed but he dropped them, relaxing out of his defensive pose but with his sneer still in full force across his face. 

“Well I didn't do it for me,” he growls. 

Something suspiciously like affection stings her nose and her eyes. “You got me a Christmas tree and gave me a Christmas present.” 

Raphael watches her warily as she approaches, paying particular attention to the slap distance of her hands to his face. 

“You got me a Christmas present and a Christmas tree.” 

His wary expression is exchanged for narrowed eyes. He cocks his head to the side. “If that’s all you're going to keep saying I might as well send you back. If I wanted someone to parrot the same dull phrases at me I could have just retrieved Haarlep from whatever den of iniquity they've no doubt been squandering their time in.” 

Lanatav touches his arm lightly and gives him a crooked smile. 

“Thank you, Raphael.” 

He exhales through his nose. He looks away. His tail swishes. 

“I will amend your command of the hellfire,” he eventually mutters. 

She laughs lightly and squeezes his forearm in thanks. 

Lanatav moves away from the cambion, abandoning her slippers and uncinching her robe as she takes in the sight of the beautiful tree. The heat of hells is tempered in his palace but she still finds herself growing overly warm in her thickest nightclothes. 

When she’s close enough to touch it she reaches out a finger to tap at a delicate ornament, shiny as a tempting apple. A flicker of light draws her attention. 

“These lights are quite impressive, however did you manage to–oh!” She jerked in alarm. “Raphael!” She screeched. “You release these pixies AT ONCE!” 

[raayllum]

An interesting thread in S7 that I noticed:

You are destroyed by the things you create.

The first time we see this kind of thread (at least I think, I might've missed something) is with Kpp'Ar and Viren in season 6. Kpp'Ar takes Viren on as his "most eager student" and teaches him much in the ways of dark magic, even eventually handing over the position of High Mage. And even once acquiring said position, Viren betrays him in order to take the Staff of Ziard, citing:

Then you have Viren being destroyed and creating the exact circumstances he didn't want. In corrupting Lux Aurea, he expelled the Sunfire elves, leading to Karim's increasing fanaticism, power struggle, and usage of Sol Regem. This led indirectly to Sol Regem bringing Viren's worst nightmare down upon Katolis.

We see this more directly with Aaravos as well, as he created Sir Sparklepuff and had Avizandum specifically summoned back from the dead in S7, both of which have a hand in his demise:

This also ties into Aaravos' desire to destroy the Cosmic Order, as they created the circumstances that led to his anger in killing Leola, and therefore his violence and great machinations:

This "you are destroyed/defeated by what you create" is also one of the things that won me over when theorizing about S7, as I thought that if Callum used dark magic to defeat Aaravos fully (rip Rayla's positive character development theorized there too), while it might have felt a bit thematically muddied, would've had a great layer of irony: Aaravos, being imprisoned/defeated by the very thing he created. Close, but no cigar!

Then, for the core protagonists, to a certain degree we have this theme with Viren and Claudia. Viren realizes his horror at what Claudia has become, as well as the path that he's pushed and led her down by example. This doesn't literally destroy him, but it does emotionally devastate him, and does end up destroying their relationship in a lot of ways.

Even Claudia gets a bit of this, as she stabs her mother in the back—a daughter killing her own mother—just as Soren stabbed Viren in 3x09. Children killing their own parents, even as illusions, fits the theme, don't you think?

Ezran also gets interwoven into this idea in a few interesting ways in season 7. In creating the circumstances that led to Ezran being king, and thereby creating the child king and his rage, Runaan could've become a victim of it, and indeed nearly was (7x01, 7x02).

The second way this could come to a head for Ezran is Project Ruby Fire, though we'll have to wait for future seasons. While the project is his and Aanya's brainchild to keep Katolis (Evrkynd now?) safe and safe from the threat of dragons in the future, it's unlikely that these weapons of destruction will stay unused, and could possibly lead to devastation and loss in their kingdoms and/or of their friends (Zym).

Last but not least, we have Callum and Rayla. While not a literal destruction (but close to), they were prepared to sacrifice everything for one another. Callum's death would've made Rayla an assassin, hardening her heart further than it already is; on the other side of things, Callum became a mage and a dark mage because of her (2x07, 5x08): "If you love her, you'll be the you who can save her," even if that means demanding she'd become the her who can kill him, and save him / the world from a fate worse than death.

At the same time, Callum only begins doing the dark magic spell because he trusts Rayla to be his safety net. I can see solid arguments for whether she would've actually gone through with it on either side, but it led to Callum re-corrupting himself and opening himself up to Aaravos' possession in the future either way.

Like with Ezran and Project Ruby Fire, I expect this plot thread to be more of a beat in Arc 3 / future seasons, but am still deeply interested to see how it may all come to pass - and how there could be more consequences (the Nova Blade?) even from trying to do good.

[marinettesaltprompts]

Reality Check

Prompt By @ironicreality

Yet another “Adrien loses the ring” deconstruction. This time I’m tackling about a certain criticism about how Chat’s supposedly so incompetent that he could be easily replaced.

But the thing is whenever the plot doesn’t need to nerf him, Chat Noir’s actually the most solid fighter on the team. And that’s discounting how casually Ladybug uses him to stall Akumas as her most reliable and expendable tool.

Trying to replace someone like that might just be harder than handing over the ring to the boy she likes.

—

It starts at a Saltfic cliché so common it might as well be Lila being a bitch:

Ladybug decides she’s had enough of Chat Noir and demands the ring. Since it’s season four and Adrien’s too depressed to even bother resisting, so he just hands it over and walks away.

Fortunately for Ladybug, she’s already part way through a Salt-fic like “realization” about Adrien and her class, so she doesn’t really care about her former crush anymore. Instead she goes to Luka and gives him the ring instead since she’s sure that Luka will be a great fit for the ring! And so Chat Noir retires from the team, and Adrien leaves the miraculous behind permanently.

With his friendship with Ladybug long eroded, there was nothing else really keeping him going as a hero besides Plagg and a sense of duty. And both of those have been relieved from him.

But things don’t go as expected. Adrien for whatever faults he might have had was an excellent fighter, being *impossibly* athletic in his civilian form and having trained in fencing and martial arts at his parents command for years. A prodigy trained by the best tutors that money could buy. And that base of skills was something that he’d brought to the table as the Black Cat, something that Marinette having only seen Chat Noir (and very briefly herself, and not against a foe where she was actually tested) wield the ring failed to appreciate. So while things go fine at first with the Glaciators and Giant Babies Shadowmoth loves to reuse, the first time Shadowmoth stops fucking around and brings his Akuma A-game…

Luka gets more or less instantly destroyed in his first fight as a front line figher against a genuinely dangerous Akuma.

Marinette gets very confused. The same happens again and again. Every time Shadowmoth brings out an actually capable threat, the novice Black Cat can’t keep up. Forget leaving him to hold the line against the Akuma, he can barely *survive* with her help. It’s not really Luka’s fault even. He’s inexperienced with Plagg’s powers and doesn’t have a near-decade of martial arts training and athletics to draw upon, but Ladybug doesn’t realize that’s a factor yet. So she concludes that it “it’s just a compatibility thing” and swaps Luka back to the snake.

She goes hunting for her next Cat.

Adrien meanwhile has moped, mourned and accepted his situation. And now? Now he’s moved on cold turkey, everything about Ladybug and the Miraculous have been cleaned from his room and computer. It took a good bit of introspection, but he’s accepted that his feelings for Ladybug were an infatuation with someone that doesn’t exist anymore and probably didn’t in the first place. But his situation isn’t the same as before he wore the ring. He’s allowed out of the house now, he can have social contact and friends as Adrien. He’s still restricted in ways that no normal boy would be, but he has freedom that he’s left by the wayside to be Chat Noir instead of fully using and enjoying it as Adrien.

Well. Chat Noir’s dead now.

So Adrien finally gets to explore and live up to his potential in his personal life. His already impressive grades improve, he resumes some of his extra-circulars that he’s actually liked (Kagami won’t be beating *him* in fencing any more) and he gets to spend time with his school friends again.

At least as much as they can, ironically enough it seems like Nino and a lot of the others have other commitments now…

Meanwhile on Ladybug’s side, things aren’t going well. She’s tried replacement after replacement, but so far there’s no one who even comes close to matching Chat Noir’s old skill and strength. Sure, Chat had problems, but it’s become obvious that he wasn’t just an ordinary holder. But finally, Marinette realises where she might have gone wrong. And she has a holder in mind, someone with an uncannily similar background to Adrien…

She chooses Kagami.

Sure, Kagami isn’t always available thanks to her commitments and Loong won’t be happy about loosing his holder, but at this point Ladybug has to run around with a full team more or less constantly to make up for the lack of a capable Black Cat so only having to do that half the time is an improvement, and she can work without a Dragon if she has to a lot easier than without a Black Cat.

And finally, *finally* it works.

Kagami is just as fierce and formidable as Adrien had been, if less spontaneous, experienced and far less affectionate. There’s still a skill gap too, but that can be taken care of with time…

But there’s still just a few *minor* problems.

Firstly, Kagami and Plagg *do not* get along. The Kwami was already sour from getting passed around, but his and Kagami’s personalities mesh like oil and water.

And then there’s the way that Kagami just… *didn’t* respect her authority like Chat or any of her previous cats did. Or at least that’s how Marinette perceives it, in reality Kagami is simply far more likely to push back against Marinette’s plans, to oppose unnecessary sacrifices and *insists* on being treated with respect. It might not have been much of a problem when Kagami was rarely-used temp hero, but with her on call as much as possible and having to serve in the multi role bodyguard/tool/lone solider role the Black Cat was used for…

Well, things are different now. And Kagami *does not* take being needlessly sacrificed and disrespected like Adrien who had already been trained for compliance by his parents before he’d even touched the ring.

Ladybug is having to learn very quickly that there was *plenty* she took for granted with Chat Noir, and that really she was far from a great partner herself.

As for Adrien? Well it would be a lie to say that there weren’t things that he missed from being Chat Noir. But the price of those things was too high in the end, and things were better all round now weren’t they?

Everyone in Paris seemed to think that Ladybug was right to dispose of Chat Noir, even if it took a while for her to get a decent replacement. So it’s not like he’d had the city’s appreciation to lose. His personal life as Adrien had finally improved by leaps and bounds now that he could fully devote himself to it for the first time. Sure, the loss of (what had once been) his friendships with Ladybug and Plagg still stung, but he was working on getting new friends. He’d even started expanding his friend groups to more people than just Dupont. and with the new Black Cat finally picking up the slack there were no problems to really fear with Shadowmoth.

But while he’d made his peace with being a normal civilian, it seemed like there was one parting gift left from his time as superhero.

For one day he just happened to be hiding from the paparazzi, and by pure chance he came to an alley where Ladybug and the New Black Cat were arguing. He hides away quickly to avoid having to confront his former friend and his replacement, but he’s still close enough to overhear the argument.

Ladybug had apparently tried to leave the New Cat in the middle of a battle to go get another hero from somewhere else. The New Cat however had *refused* to just be left on her own against a team of Akuma, and had instead retreated because- as the New Cat bluntly tells Ladybug- even if *she could be brought back*, the Akuma team could take the ring from her corpse. A corpse that would be there because Ladybug’s orders would *get the New Cat killed for nothing*.

And Ladybug… has no counter for that. She instead sighs and admits that she made a mistake- and to Adrien’s surprise the New Cat doesn’t just accept the apology; she instead calls out Ladybug for having done this before, especially with her predecessors. And again, to Adrien’s utter shock Ladybug has to admit fault, this time with how she treated the past cats. And as the two continue talking, as Ladybug has to verbalize that she was wrong in how she *used* her past cats: something tight and painful in his chest that Adrien had accepted as normal finally releases.

[ganondoodle]

i dont know if anyone from not here is awake but .... yesterday i had the idea to perhaps bind the champions 2.0 abilities to the inventory/weapons

(totk rewrite "botw2")

so, for example, yunobos would be tied to a permanent two handed weapon (his signature weapon for example) in your inventory that doesnt break and doesnt need repairing (considering my craft and repair system otherwise) but instead needs recharging to recast the ability somwhat like when the master sword looses its power, but instead it just deals the base or reduced weapons damage (perhaps using the ability function via the throwing mechanic, like the MS swordbeams? or a different way to control it when using that speciffic weapon)

teba/tulins would be either a magic bow or arrow that similarly doesnt break/run out (unsure whether arrow or bow is better)

sidons water shield + heal would be tied to a shield

rijus would be tied to the hookshot, when aiming it thered be a button prompt to switch to send the lightning instead, thought to tie it to this bc i wanted it to be aimable similar to the hookshot and combining them saves you from making yet another aiming system and menu

the idea was that i could also use the tie to a weapon as an explanation for how they give it to you without repeating botw but worse (since in botw they are ghosts of the dead and a spirit knowing how to give an abilitiy tied to their spirit to you is more sensical than your childhood friend that didnt even have an ability at all even after a hundred years time last game suddendly not only mastering one but also somehow knowing how to give it to you within .. 5?) the explanation being that the weapon has been charged with their magic over the course of using it for so long or doing so during the dungeon

(like in yunos case, he was the only one that actually had the ability in botw, he always used a .. stone breaker weapon thing, and he gifts it to you at the end; teba/tulin would discover charging their arrows with magic during it and give you the bow at the end (perhaps them having to pull on the same bow to shoot it during a miniboss fight in the dungeon makes it charged with it); sidon would use your shield to channel his magic in a way to make it useful for you and since hes still new to using it, perhaps he gives you the permanent one at the start of the dungeon bc its the one hes been practising it with and at the end gifts it to you since its charged with it (if you leave the dungeon before beating it hed want it back sicne .. its his practice tool); riju charges your shiekah arm with lighting, like overcharging a device just before it breaks, perhaps discovered accidentally during her dungeon ? so we have a variety and not all work the same ... and overcharging bricks your arm for a short time lol)

the possible downside of this is the menuing, but you dont really have to use all of them all the time (maybe longer cooldown but more powerful anyway just like in botw- also each permanent weapon would be the first in the row) and .. anythign is better than those god awful sage ghost controls of canon totk imo lol

other idea would be that its NOT tied to a specific weapon, but just to the category in general, so when you got a shield out you get an extra button prompt to activate sidons ability (very similar to botws system but giving you the control of activating it or not) BUT that has the issue of lacking the explanation on how they give it to you and the downside of not having anything permanent, and while i like my reworked weapon system, also givign players a permanent thing even if not very powerful sounds kinda right to mitigate those complaints without destroying the system outright

[leighsartworks216]

Self-Destruction

Zayne x gn!Reader

Based on my actual teacher and when I used to sh when I got angry. Please please don't read if you think this could trigger you <333

Warnings: hurt/comfort, swearing, anger, implied/referenced self-harm, self-destructive behavior/tendencies, no real ending

Word Count: 731

Main Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

It takes every ounce of self-restraint you have left in your body not to slam the door shut behind you. It doesn't matter, in any case, because the second the door is closed, everything bursts out of you.

You toss your bag to the floor with an angry groan. Tears burn your eyes. You can feel your lungs shaking with the effort it takes to try breathing normally. It feels awful. You wish this feeling would just go away, but it doesn't. It burrows deeper and deeper into your body, tearing through muscle and bone. You wish you could claw it out. The best you can do is bury your face in your hands and will away the rising need to break something.

"Love?"

Fuck, of course Zayne's home right now. You forgot he was taking a half-day, working at the hospital in the morning and finishing the rest of his work from home.

"What happened?" he asks with that gentle sort of urgency. "Where's your painting?"

Ugh, that fucking painting! "I threw it away," you grit out.

His footsteps are too loud as he approaches you, quicker than his usual steps. He grabs your hands, urging them away from your face. "Why?"

You feel hysterical as the emotions pour out of you. He interlaces your fingers together, holding your hands hostage even as you try to gesture with them.

"Because my teacher fucking sucks! I worked so, so hard on this one! You saw! You know! I just- I put it on the easel to present it and she fucking tore it apart, Zayne! Every little fucking thing! I tried to, you know, explain the fucking thought process behind it, just like everyone else, and you know what she did?! She ignored every single word I said! She said she didn't like it, she didn't understand it, it doesn't make sense, so she just shut down every single explanation I had! She wouldn't listen to anything! It's just-" Zayne tugs gently on you. You give in easily, dropping your head to rest on his shoulder. "It's not fair."

He squeezes your hands. They're cold, and you don't know if it's because of his Evol or if you're just running that hot from your outburst. "She only did that to yours?"

You nod against him, curling your nails toward his skin, before easing them flat against the scars on the back of his hands. He rubs his thumb against the meat of yours in small, soothing circles. "She actually critiqued everyone else's. But everything she said about mine? That wasn't fucking constructive criticism, it was just her own grievances. And I don't know if it's just me-"

"Whether she has something against you or not, that does not excuse the blatant unprofessionalism and disrespect she showed you," he interjects. "If you would like, I can help you file a complaint against her."

"Yes, please," you agree immediately.

He huffs a slight laugh. "Let's calm down first, alright?"

He lets go of your hands to hold your wrists. He guides them to sit on his chest, over his heart and lungs. Each breath he takes pushes against them, raising and falling in slow, even breaths. By your ear, you can hear those same slow breaths. You follow along.

Inhale for four seconds.

Hold for two.

Exhale for four.

The pattern continues for a couple minutes, until the anger simmers down. If you really needed to, Zayne would let you stay there for hours. It was better than the alternative.

When you got really angry like this, when it feels like breaking something is the only way to get it out of you, you'd turn it back on yourself. Destroying your art supplies may sound like an instant soother, but you're all too cognizant of how expensive and important it all is. But skin can heal.

Zayne, for obvious reasons, immediately worked to find solutions to help. Namely, holding your hands to keep them off of your arms or legs, and putting himself into position to take the pain. Not that you ever were able to dig your nails into him, even at your most desperate. The guilt of hurting him was too strong to even consider it. So, this way, no one got hurt.

"Better?"

(After this, he would help you file the report and retrieve your painting from the trash <333)

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @deepzombieyouth @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko

[hailturinturambar]

Thoughts on Charlie and Morfydd's interview (PART II)

As promised, another review! I'm loving these interviews and bts content that has been released recently. It's a small consolation since we're going to be waiting so long for the next season!

These two scenes were my favorites from the season finale. Because when it comes to such complex characters, there is always more to it. A tear is never just a tear, there are always reasons behind it and I created many theories in my mind about these scenes.

The same with Galadriel's leap to death, when she once again resists Sauron's temptation and chooses the path of light. Galadriel weighed her choice and I don't believe she jumped to it lightly.

This is the big difference between Sauron and Galadriel. While Sauron wants to destroy the world until he can rebuild it his way, Galadriel would rather live in a realm of ash and ruins than ally herself with the cause of all evil.

Yes, Galadriel desired power in both the books and the show. But she recognized the evil of the ring and how it could change her completely. And she refuses to follow that path of darkness.

“Obviously, she survived as the final scene of the season and Lord of the Rings proves. Clark also shared a fun fact during this chat that hilariously proved this too, noting that in The Silmarillion, the elves “were insane and just jumped on loads of buildings and created loads of havoc.” So, not only was this moment emotional and deep, but it also was a fun call back to the source material – which kind of blew my mind.”

I will always point this out, because it is a very important fact for me. Both the actors and everyone involved in the creation of the show are always so committed to following the source material, to spreading references throughout the show. I love that, it shows a touching care and dedication.

It was an interesting parallel. We started the season with Elrond escaping with the rings, choosing the uncertainty his escape would bring rather than giving in to possible evil. And then we ended the show with Galadriel making the same choice.

When we look closely, there are many similarities in the scenes of Galadriel and Elrond throughout the show. Especially towards the end of the season.

I believe that at that moment, Galadriel completely understood Elrond's choice and why he did what he did, what motivated him to jump when there seemed to be no other solution.

Galadriel and Elrond are like the sun and the moon, calm and storm in their choices. Regardless of the reasons that motivated them to jump, deep down, the motivation remains the same. And I liked that this was a way to represent the connection between the two characters.

“That parallel is so powerful, and it really hammered home the idea that Galadriel was fully out of Sauron’s shadow now. However, when it came to what Sauron was thinking at that moment, he wasn’t comprehending that at all.”

I decided to compare the two scenes side by side to explain my thoughts on the similarity of the scenes.

At first, Galadriel and Elrond are confronted by the proposals that are being presented to them. And they know that there are only two choices left to make. Conflict and uncertainty permeate their faces.

Here we glimpse the moment of understanding, of acceptance. Both know that they can only decide between two paths: run away with the ring, or hand over the ring and accept all the consequences caused by that choice.

The final choice is the great sacrifice. When there is nothing left to do, all choices have slipped away. To me, death/leap is an analogy about free will. When it is better to choose the most painful, most difficult path, than to give in to our enemy, to what scares us and can hurt so many.

Galadriel certainly did not expect Elrond to make such a sudden, definitive decision. Perhaps Galadriel believed that Elrond would "see reason" and side with her.

Just as Sauron seemed confident that Galadriel would choose his side. Because he believes that his side is the right one, that his side is salvation. How Galadriel thought about Elrond.

This was hilarious, to say the least. I don't think Sauron was used to being told no. Adar was a slap in the face when he betrayed him, and I imagine Sauron expected it to be different with Galadriel.

I agree with Charlie's thinking. I don't believe Sauron would be able to understand what Galadriel was really trying to say. Because that's not the kind of feeling he's familiar with.

To Sauron, healing Middle-earth is a gift, it is his mission. He does not realize that his cruel actions are not the cure, but what is rotting Middle-earth even more. So, he does not understand Galadriel's words.

Sauron was so confident that Galadriel would stand by him that her refusal surprised him. He was visibly frustrated. He was disappointed. How could she not see his point and stand by him? I would say he murdered Glûg for that. To vent his frustration, his unwillingness to accept rejection.

Ultimately, I believe that Sauron always listens to what is said to him, it is just to what degree those words penetrate him. It is a pattern. When in the first season Galadriel and Halbrand are in Númenor, he listens and remembers her words, her advice to touch the darkness to find the light.

As he listens like Annatar to the words of Celebrimbor. He is affected precisely because he listens and is affected by those words. Then he follows his pattern of destroying whoever hurts him, whoever affects him.

In the next season, I believe we will see this new side of Sauron. Where he is learning to deal with Galadriel's words.

Because Charlie is right, Sauron is too arrogant to believe that Galadriel would even think of denying him. And much less that she would jump off a cliff after refusing his proposal.

I'm really looking forward to the release of the third season and to discovering the path of these characters on this new journey!

Posting this analysis today as a Christmas present for all of us who spent the day at home looking at tumblr!

[orangedodge]

I like what Eve Ewing and Gail Simone have going on between their books. Having the two more earnest, more extroverted, friends try to fix things for their more transactional, introverted, friend, and accidentally blow up her entire life along the way, makes for a much more interesting, more authentic, inter-cast conflict than just having yet another misunderstanding superhero fight. It works because it's completely understandable and within Rogue's existing character that she would take this approach, that it would not occur to her that sending Bobby to Chicago would read, to Kate, as an invasive attack against her privacy and peace of mind.

When Rogue was in a similar place, years ago, having Ororo and Bishop just crash back into her life, bulldoze over all of her half-hearted protests, and drag her back onto the team anyway, was actually exactly what she wanted, but was unable to admit. The heavy handed approach worked for her. It's working for her again right now as well--dragged back into the X-Men by Scott, and bringing Kurt, Remy, Logan, and Jubilee along for the ride, and everyone already feels much better than they did before. It makes sense that in her mind, what helped her, and helped her other friends, will help yet again, and that Kate will feel better once she lets them in.

Rogue's really just being a good friend, in the best way she can. Her only error is in not realizing that not everyone processes grief in the exact same way that she does, or in ways she finds personally palatable (which is a lapse you don't see from an Ororo Munroe or a Dani Moonstar, who have more experience with personalities that really do want to be alone to sort their own misery).

You have to feel for Bobby, who plainly thought he was appearing in a completely different story than where he actually was. From his perspective, he's just returned from the dead amidst a harrowing time for mutants, discovered their home destroyed, and most of their people exiled, and that one of his closest friends has abruptly abandoned him, cut off all contact with everyone, and is being distant and abrasive when he only tries to make sure she's okay.

(It goes unsaid that Bobby has stood a suicide watch for her in the past, but that's a history I'm sure Ewing is familiar with. I don't think his sense of urgency and worry should be read as anything but honest).

Judging by how his reactions are drawn, in both the dinner scene and the closing pages, I don't think Bobby had any idea what the actual underlying issue was. I expect he thought he would just show up, shame Kitty a bit over her lack of friendliness, share some embaressing stories with her girlfriend, and they'd both laugh it off and bond over their shared trauma. He doesn't realize yet that the source of her grief is completely at odds with his own, or with Rogue's. Bobby is mourning the loss of home, and of safety, while Kate's grief is the fear that all of her most toxic beliefs about herself were right.

I don't think anyone has told him, for example, that Synch and Talon had her off murdering people in the hundreds, while Rogue's team was doing the resistance stuff. I don't think he has any way to put it all together until the end, when he realizes he's triggered a flashback.

Issue #4 would read very differently from Bobby's perspective, framed as being duplicitous and manipulative while he is, in actuality, doing nothing wrong. He's arguably being a little too pushy, but Kate hadn't actually articulated a sense of boundaries to him until days after his arrival, and he does seem to dial it back and give her space once that happens

The real issue is that Kitty doesn't believe that anyone would ever visit her out of a place of genuine care, without wanting something from her in return. It's why she's more tolerant of Emma's intrusion, despite the tension between them. That relationship is one founded on mutual use with clearly defined terms and no possibility for surprise or disappointment. Bobby is a friend that she fears being disappointed by. And so she assumes nefarious intent when he isn't overtly after anything: either that Bobby is trying to acquire her for some undetermined x-plot, or that he's actually a dangerous villain in disguise and a threat to the kids.

I think it works overall, successfully misleading the reader into thinking there really is something going on, while not having Bobby do anything to actually earn the distrust he's being shown. It's natural that Trista would pick up on Kitty's hostility and not know any better, and that Emma--who has the same people issues as Kitty--would echo the paranoia.

[ticklish-n-stuff]

Merry Christmas!

This fic is a present for the love of my life @azureyemberzz

I know you already got your actual presents early, so I thought I'd save mine for the actual day lol

This is an x reader fic, though I made the reader have more of Azurey's personality, but I don't think there's any physical descriptions of the reader.

This fic is a bit different from my usual ones, so I apologize if it's not as great, but it was still made with love dies of cringe

Rambling aside, I hope you enjoy. I had fun writing this💖

______________________________________________________________

Albedo x reader (romantic)

Lees: Albedo & reader

Lers: Albedo & reader

Warnings: Tickles! Author is a lesbian LMAO

______________________________________________________________

December 1st…

The moment the calendar changed from november to december, you knew that it was Christmas time. One could never start too early on their Christmas traditions. Even Albedo had made the necessary adjustments to make this month as special as possible.

It seemed natural that the first thing you both did was pick up a Christmas tree. You had always leaned towards the more traditional ones, so now a beautifully green tree that reached the ceiling sat in the living room, waiting to be decorated…

December 5th…

Albedo thought it could be a fun idea to hand make some of the ornaments. With two artists living under the same roof, it made sense, so you both got to work.

You two made all kinds of designs that showed off each of your personalities. There was a simple blue one with gold sparkles, a crystal-like white one, another one had a cheesy science pun written on it that had the both of you snorting like idiots, it was great.

Once all the designs were done, Albedo used his magic on the drawings to bring them to life, materializing them right before your eyes. This wasn’t the first time you had witnessed Albedo bring one of his drawings to life, yet it always mesmerized you each and every time. And knowing that he had brought to life some of your original designs to be hung up made it feel all the more special. It was like his way of showing off your art skills, and how proud he was of you.

December 9th…

Now that all the necessary decorations had been acquired, it was time to give the tree a makeover, starting off with the lights.

A few boxes of those white lights with the “crayon” shape sat there as you both started the pesky progress of untangling them. You couldn’t help the groan of annoyance that escaped you, itching to get to the fun part.

“Patience, dear” Albedo would tell you, stopping momentarily to give your nose a teasing boop, causing a playful pout to form on your lips and a faint blush to rise up your ears.

Your attention then got captured by Albedo’s hands, watching the way he’d untangle each light strand, making it seem flawless and graceful, as he usually showed with any task. You couldn’t help but wonder how those fingers would feel against your skin- No! Stop that, now isn’t the time for such fantasies.

Of course, Albedo wasn’t called a genius for nothing. He already felt the way your gaze bore towards his hands. A faint smirk grazed his lips when you tried focusing back on the task at hand, thinking you had been so slick. ‘Cute…’ he thought to himself. In a moment of playfulness, he reached out and sneakily poked you on the side. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the way your body jolted in surprise, the adorable squeak that escaped you provoked him further into destroying you right there and then. So that’s what he did.

You knew you were screwed when you noticed the mischievous gaze of your lover, trying to scramble away, but it was too late. In just a few moments, you had been reduced to a pile of laughter against his arms. His fingers playing the sides of your torso like an instrument.

“W-wahahait! The liHIHIghts!” You tried to reason with him, not like it would work, you already knew that, yet it added to the excitement of the moment.

“They can wait. Besides, your laughter shines the brightest~”

You wanted to groan right there and then over how unfairly sweet he was being, though that only just made him double down his efforts. Watching with a pleased expression as you shrieked your head off, the lights long forgotten by now.

Oh well… there’s always next time.

December 10th…

After yesterday’s ‘lil detour, you both finally managed to put the lights on the tree. The bulbs twinkled like little stars in the vertical pattern they had been put on.

Now it was time for the rest of the decor. Garlands as fuzzy as a cat’s tail would spiral down the tree (not before you got tangled between them somehow, causing Albedo to tease you some more), all the homemade ornaments were on display, plus some extra delicate glass ones towards the bottom of the tree from years prior.

The tree was finally coming together, it was just missing the final touch.

You sat on top of Albedo’s shoulders, holding the delicate star topper on your hands. It had a few cracks from accidentally being shattered a few Christmases ago, but Albedo being the sweetheart he was, helped you put it back together. It was too precious to throw away.

Two short people made one tall person, at least that was your logic. So with the added height, you managed to reach the top of the tree, carefully placing the star in its rightful place.

You climbed off of Albedo’s shoulders, the both of you admiring all the hard work that had been poured into that tree. Christmas was already shaping up well.

December 14th…

As the month progressed, the shared home started to become nicely cluttered with more festive decor. You and Albedo were currently making some paper snowflakes, a silly yet fun tradition you had grown attached to.

You couldn’t help but lightly chuckle at how concentrated Albedo was on the task, crafting each paper snowflake perfectly perfect. Whereas yours looked a bit messy in comparison, but that was all part of the fun.

Speaking of fun… you were suddenly feeling mischievous, wanting to get a bit of revenge after the lighting incident. You snuck up behind your boyfriend who was blissfully unaware, completely caught up in his own little world. A playful grin overtook your lips as you dug into his ribcage.

“gYAh?! Whahat are you- You’re messing uhup my progrehehess!” The blonde cackled helplessly against your fingers, his brain losing any sense of coordination to fight back and simply opting to curl up. His paper snowflake, now mismatched, long forgotten…

December 19th…

As much as you loved Christmas, it could also be an overwhelming time of year, so today you and Albedo decided to have a ‘lil art date, simply drawing portraits of each other.

The tree and all the decorations gave the place a warm and cozy feel, despite how cold it’d get outside.

You had grown so relaxed in the simple activity that you ended up falling asleep. Albedo smiled at the sight, getting up to put both drawings out of harm's way. He didn’t have the heart to wake you up, knowing how… questionable your sleep schedule could get at times, not like he was one to talk. He settled down next to you, allowing your sleepy self to cling onto him for warmth.

December 24th…

Usually, Christmas eve was the time everyone went all out with parties and fancy dinners, but when two introverts live together, Christmas eve is spent a lot more casually, yet still just as meaningful.

The lights were dimly lit, which accentuated the Christmas tree. You and Albedo were snuggled against each other on the couch watching The Polar Express, a holiday classic. A big blanket was draped over you two, and you each had a cup of hot cocoa for extra warmth and immersion.

It was no secret that Albedo could be a bit of a pro in the kitchen, but his hot chocolate skills were out of this world. Seriously, what is his secret?! You could drink this stuff all day anyday.

More beloved Christmas films would continue to play in the background throughout the night, eventually the both of you passing out on the couch all cuddled up together.

December 25th…

By the time you had come to your senses, it was already daylight. That’s right, it was finally Christmas.

You looked to your side, pouting a bit over the missing alchemist. Said blonde emerged into the room shortly after, holding a present in his hands.

“I know we said no gifts, but I thought this felt appropriate” He was right, neither of you were big on materialistic possessions, gifts never needing to be included for the holiday to be special, but Albedo was a true gentleman, of course he’d still show up with something.

You carefully took the gift from his hands, unwrapping it delicately. A smile instantly spread across your face at the sight. Albedo had taken it upon himself to frame the two portraits you each drew the other day. Simple yet thoughtful. You set it aside, springing to your feet to give him a hug, practically twirling him around, much to the alchemist’s embarrassment.

“That was so thoughtful, ‘Bedo. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!~” You placed a sloppy kiss on his cheek, grinning when the blonde’s pale skin started to grow pink.

“No need to thank me… Now, go get ready quickly, the snow is waiting for us”

You nodded like an eager puppy, running off to dress yourself properly for the harsh weather. You practically dashed out the door, with an alchemist in hand, heading over to the snowy scenery.

Christmas is a special time of year that can be celebrated in all sorts of ways, yet you wouldn’t trade any of this away. It was perfect, this was perfect. Another joyful Christmas to remember for years to come.

I love you, Azurey. Merry Christmas - S🌸

______________________________________________________________

[prince--thomas]

Tom gave Maximus a slight warning look as he stepped closer. The last thing they needed was the bloke getting the idea to take a swing at one of them. And, to be honest, he wasn't worried about Belle. She had that hulking beast watching out for her. And he wouldn't be pressed if the hellhound took a chunk out of this fucker.

Not to mention: Tom knew exactly what Hades was and, honestly, godspeed to anyone who put hands on the mayor's wife.

She seemed to be of the same mind as she spoke: "I'd really rather not press charges, I have better things to do, but if you could just get him out of here?"

"Working on it, ma'am."

"Press charges? That beast of hers is threatening me!"

"There's no laws for a growling dog," Tom said with a sigh. "You're the one whose been destroying property."

"I am destroying property?! She is destroying property! O-or her husband is! You know he has green fire! That was what was over the Deer wasn't it?"

"Actually, Hades' fire is blue," Belle said, matter-of-factly.

"Blue then! It must've been blue!"

"Convenient."

Bloody small town and bloody rumors. Though...Tom couldn't help but think that this man was echoing some of his own suspicions. Everyone in town knew that Gaston had a sweet spot for Belle...and that he had no love lost for Hades, blaming him for his father's death.

It did feel...very convenient. Especially considering the fire had been magical in quality.

Tom glanced at Maximus. "If you don't come with us, we'll have no choice but to arrest you."

"Arrest me?! For what?!" The man picked up another book.

@trackedbymaximus

Buddy Cop ~~ [Toxim]