#they both had SO I NEED YOU TO SEE THE POTENTIAL AS WELL

[asajjventress]

I really feel like so many people who hate Vivienne for being power hungry do not fully grasp and appreciate the desperation that Vivienne feels because she conceals it so well… as little content as she got, she honestly is expertly written and presented and it’s why it disappoints me so much when people hate her for surface level reasons… her writer deserves so much more appreciation.

I think it is subtle because she hides it and you really have to care about the character to seek out these threads and understand her motivations… she is in danger of total irrelevance, being cast aside by society (and history), and she is forced to ride the coattails of some upstart organization because all of the institutions she is invested in have either totally failed her or cast her aside.

She is clearly a prideful person who does not readily admit this… but her true talent is how clearly she can evaluate this and understand her own position. She suffers no delusions. She knows the Circle’s standing in society is diminished to nothing if it doesn’t house and account for the majority of mages, and she is left with just meek Chantry loyalists and sycophants who are lost without her guiding hand, as even otherwise pro-Circle mages with any sense have abandoned ship and left both rebels and loyalists at this point to see where the chips fall (Ellandra) - and the Chantry itself has been all but decimated in terms of military and political power. The one lifeline she has is the Imperial Court, and the fickle nobility have moved on from her - the mages are now a threat that she cannot control or offer any meaningful opposition to, and Celene’s favor has turned to Morrigan, and Vivienne does not know if she will ever have it again. She knows Bastien is dying, and that all that she has left at court will be those who hold kind feelings towards her such as his family, and that is a position she can never accept - being at the mercy of others.

We meet Vivienne, this impressive, powerful mage, who has made a life for herself by maneuvering brilliantly, all to improve her own standing, at a point where she is in danger of losing everything she has. And she doesn’t let on, at least not explicitly, but she joins the Inquisition out of desperation - it’s obvious she sees it as an opportunity, but the gravity of the situation for her isn’t clear from the start. She refuses to lay down and fade away. Vivienne would never had joined this fledgling upstart organization if she was in a better position at Court or there wasn’t a vacuum of power. She is very close to having nothing left, and starting over - and so she does. Before the rug can be pulled from under her, she gets out and sets off for herself again.

Vivienne, often accused of pride, privilege, and self importance, comes to the Inquisitor out of pure humility. She knows she is reduced. And her gamble ultimately pays off, and the Inquisition becomes the political juggernaut that it does, and she becomes more powerful and important than ever just by association. And I like to think, especially with an Inquisitor who respects and befriends her, that she plays no small part in shaping the organization.

I think this is also why, potentially, she plays it so cool at the Winter Palace. She doesn’t get involved… she doesn’t need to. Simply being present is a statement to the court, and she truly doesn’t care about who wins; it’s not just the Game, it’s personal, despite what she claims. That they cast her aside, and now they are interested again… not necessarily in her, but still, she sees the paradigm shifting again. She is now a part of the organization who gets to change Orlais, and favor with the Inquisition is quickly becoming just as important as favor with Celene.

The whole arc is a subtle one as she really doesn’t get much attention, but if you pay close attention, it shows how expertly Vivienne plays politics. We already know she came from nothing and maneuvered into a powerful position. But I think not everyone realizes she is nearly back to nothing when we first meet her… and through the course of the game’s events, by allying with the right people, she plays the game well enough to become an advisor to the most influential person in southern Thedas… and potentially even Divine. But her initial plea to the Inquisitor, for all the great lengths she goes to keep up the appearance of strength and invulnerability, comes from a place of utter desperation.

[toiletclown]

breathless. (part three.)

spencer agnew x gn!reader

there is angst in this part !!!

summary: you and spencer have an absolute blast doing the livestream, but then you open your mouth. oh no.

word count: 3286

✧˖°.⁺‧˚ ♡ ˚‧⁺ ✧˖°.

You had two days until the livestream, which means you and Ang would be conspiring nonstop for the next 48-or-so hours. That FaceTime call lasted much longer than necessary, and when you both came into the office today you were both clearly exhausted. But that’s okay, because you were not only going to get your friend back, but hopefully gain a partner in the process.

“Jeez, Peach, you’re looking rough today.” Spencer greeted you in the kitchen, and you immediately glanced up and around to make sure no one else was in the kitchen to hear that. Just last night you were wishing he would call you Peach at work, but now it felt… strange. To actually have it happen. That must have been Angela’s doing.

“Yeah, I was up pretty late. I think I finally went to sleep around four just to turn around and wake up at eight. Plus, I was tossing and turning all night, so the sleep I did get wasn’t even restful.” You put a small amount of concealer on because your eyebags were so dark today, and it was still shoot week. Next week it wouldn’t matter all that much because you’d be in your pod locking in on other things, but since you still have three days of shooting to be done, you had to at least try and cover it up. You usually didn’t venture into the comments for your own mental, but you knew if you didn’t put something over them, someone would inevitably comment ‘wow y/n looks like shit today’. And of course, that would be the one comment out of all of them that you would end up seeing.

Spencer rubbed your upper arm lightly, offering more comfort than you expected from him as of late. It was nice. You let a smile spill across your face, but broke eye contact to stare at your shoes. 

“You want one of my Kickstarts? I know they make your stomach upset but maybe the energy might help?” He held an unopened can out to you, and you took it. He was right, you usually had a stomach ache after drinking a Kickstart, but you felt so dead it just might be worth it.

You popped the tab and took a sip, thanking him for his generosity. Angela had definitely talked to him more in depth than she let on, meaning she definitely knew more than she let on. So now you had to worry if she was conspiring with him as well. Not that she would do anything to sabotage you behind your back, but what if she coaxed both of you into a silly plan that will end up falling through?

//

The two shoot days before the livestream were both pretty much the same as always. You and Angela stayed up well into the night hatching a plan, Spencer let you drink his Kickstart and brought you coffee and Red Bull Thursday morning, the day of the stream. You picked up your energy for the shoots, and did your best to keep up with conversations and plans off-camera as well. Spencer was back to his usual physically affectionate self, and he had no trouble saying ‘I love you’ back when you said it first, if you said it first. Whatever Angela was doing behind the scenes on his side was working, because it almost felt like you didn’t need to do some big thing on the stream now. You had what you wanted: your best friend back. Sure, you want more than that, and as far as you knew, so did Spencer. But why introduce the potential of a severe falling out when this was working just fine? You’d been best friends with Spencer for nearly eight years now, that was all you had ever known. Friendship. Was it worth the possibility of losing all of this? Just to—what, gain a different label?

You said as much to Angela while you two were eating. The kitchen and eating area were fairly empty while everyone was setting up for the stream. Spencer, luckily, was needed on set so you knew he wasn’t around to hear you wax poetic about him. Again. As you seemed entirely incapable of doing anything else, lately.

“I don’t know, I’m just starting to wonder if it’s all worth it. Like, sure, I gain the new label of ‘partner,’ but what else is going to change? We already act like a couple anyway, according to you and Erin.”

Angela put her hand on your shoulder and looked into your eyes, piercing through to your very soul. “Y/N, I’m going to hold your hand when I say this, but you don’t just gain the label. You gain all the benefits and happiness of a relationship and you also don’t have to keep hurting yourself. You want to be with Spencer, and he wants to be with you. Instead of not allowing yourself that happiness, and pushing it down constantly to try and come off as ‘normal’, you can just be normal. Also, as far as I know, you and Spence haven’t kissed or gone on any dates and I do believe that’s a perk that comes with dating someone. Especially someone who already knows everything about you. Instead of you two having to tread the murky beginnings of a relationship, you can hop right into it because you both already know so much about each other. Sure it might not feel entirely different at first, but imagine how relieved you’ll be when you don’t have to stop yourself from complimenting him, or staring at him, or blushing whenever he so much as breathes in your direction.” Angela pushed her food around on her plate, pondering if she should keep talking. She was working hard to make this happen, because she loved you both and knew you both deserved to be happy with each other. But Y/N was stubborn, and Spencer was just… hard-headed sometimes.

You held your breath for a moment, letting her words sink in again. Angela wasn’t always so verbose but when she was, it was serious, and you had to really listen. And, of course, she was right. You keep hurting yourself by pushing these feelings away, and you know that they’re reciprocated, so why keep pushing? “You’re right, as always.” You beamed at your best friend, feeling hopeful that this would work.

You knew the stream was set to be starting in about thirty minutes, so you stood up to throw your trash away and get ready. But before you could walk away, Angela grabbed your wrist. “Just so you know, and you didn’t hear this from me, but everyone here wants you two to start dating. Erin sent those memes in thinking it would kick your asses into gear but it didn’t work as well as she thought it would, I guess. Also, a lot of Smosh fans ship you. There’s a few compilations on YouTube if you’re curious. Just some food for thought.” She smiled brightly before leaving you to ponder on that.

You decided to pop your headphones in and do a quick check on that “compilation” comment. You weren’t due to set for twenty more minutes, so you clicked on a five minute compilation titled “Y/N and Spencer being soulmates for 5 minutes and 28 seconds”. Soulmates. It was accurate, to you, but that didn't make it any easier to stomach. You only got a few clips into the compilation before you started to get a little too warm. You freshened up your face and deodorant in the bathroom, and set off for the stream.

//

Everything was off to a good start. You fiddled around with a few songs, and Spencer, of course, was holding perfect conversation with you while also getting a 96% on Expert mode. It was time to start executing your plan, and you knew Angela was right off to the side watching.

“Okay, so, I didn’t tell you this,” you started, glancing at Spencer, “but I did some extra training without you.” You smiled nervously, hoping he wouldn’t be mad at you.

“No way! Cheater.” Your best friend was gleaming at you, and despite his words, he seemed a bit proud. “You just wanted to impress me, didn’t you, Peach?” 

He definitely expected you to falter at the mention of your nickname while on stream, but you held strong. If you blushed, then you blushed. You didn't really have a say in that.

“Well, of course I did. Anyway, I made sure we added one of my favorite songs to the game while you were busy running around setting up, but it’s only mapped on Expert mode. You think I can do it?”

“I believe in you wholeheartedly.” You could tell from the smile on his face that he wasn’t joking. Well, here goes nothing.

“Okay, close your eyes because I have to scroll and find it and I don’t want you to see which song it is.”

“You said it was one of your favorites, right? Can I guess?” Spencer had both hands over his eyes, under his glasses, which made him look quite silly. And while he did know a lot of your favorite songs, you were pretty sure you hadn’t mentioned this one to him.

“Go ahead,” you urged, scrolling through the menus for a few seconds before asking Alex the best way to get to the song.

“Okay, let’s see here. Is it Andria by La Dispute?”

“Nope.”

“Avocado, Baby by Los Campesinos!?”

“Nope.” You popped the ‘p’ this time.

“Change by Djo?”

“Ah, there it is!” You had finally found the song, after a few too many minutes of scrolling around. The chat didn’t seem to be bothered by the current lack of commentary because they all still seemed to be reeling about Spencer calling you Peach. Which was fair, because mentally you were also freaking out a little bit. But you had more important things to worry about than the blush that was definitely painting your neck and face.

“I was right?” Spencer moved his hands, “Oh, no I wasn’t. I didn’t know you liked The Corrs?” He looked back at you now, and you thought you heard him comment on your blush. But you could rewatch later. For now, you needed to slay this song.

“Spencer, of course I like The Corrs.” You locked in on the song, hitting every single note with ease. You found yourself singing the song too, and Spencer joined in not long after you started.

“Can’t hide it! Can’t fight it! So, go on, go on! Come on, leave me breathless. Tempt me, tease me! Till I can’t deny this loving feelin’! Make me long for your kiss!” You were both singing your hearts out, and you were simultaneously shredding on the fancy guitar controller Spence had secured for Smosh. The chat was going wild, but neither of you thought to even ask about it. The song ended and you managed to get a 92% on Expert mode, while singing and conversing. That was the best you’d ever done on a song, and you had no doubt it was because your best friend was next to you singing with you. 

//

The stream ended after about an hour and a half, your voice hoarse from singing and cheering and yelling. You had picked Breathless by The Corrs because you knew you had never mentioned liking them to Spencer, but the lyrics of the song were just too accurate for how you felt. And you and Angela both knew you wouldn’t be able to actually get a confession out, so you were hoping the song was enough to give Spencer the push to say something himself. And him singing the song with you certainly did something to your insides, but these days everything that man did made your stomach flip. And you were okay with that. You could get used to that. Maybe you even wanted that. You wanted Spencer, unabashedly.

Angela pulled you down the hall away from your other coworkers to ask how you felt. “I don’t know how I feel, to be honest. It was nerve-wracking and stressful at some points, but I don’t know, singing one of my favorite love songs with the man I’m currently in love with was an incredible feeling.” You were so happy and so bubbly you didn’t even realize your wording.

Until you noticed Angela was staring at you.

“What? Oh, fuck. Okay, yeah, I didn’t mean to say that. Um, Just... I’m really high on energy right now, is all.” You let out a soft chuckle, trying to walk back your statement. But she had heard it, and Angela wasn’t exactly one to let things go. “Angela, please do not mention this until we have both clocked out and left the building. Then you can go crazy, but just wait until then. Please,” you quietly begged. It was going to come up again – no doubt about that. But you couldn’t do it while you were still here. You didn’t have anything left to shoot today but you did have some paperwork to do and some marketing stuff to work on, and Tommy asked you to be in a TikTok earlier in the week so that still needed to be done too.

“Okay, okay. I’ll wait. But you will be hearing from me as soon as I park my ass on my couch at home,” Angela whispered back, attempting to meet your volume level but mostly failing.

“What’re y’all whispering about over here?” Spencer had come down the hallway, a Kickstart in one hand and your favorite flavor of Red Bull in the other.

“We’re conspiring on how to break YouTube's streaming rules on a livestream and get away with it, why?” You supplied, knowing he would appreciate a little joke after a somewhat-tense livestream. Maybe the livestream was only tense for you, though. You graciously accepted the Red Bull as he handed it to you.

He did laugh, luckily, and turned towards Angela, “I think Arasha would be a better co-conspirator for that. Y/N is too nice to break internet law.” He smiled at you now, and put his hand on your shoulder, his warmth spreading through your body.

He was always so warm, and you religiously ran cold. It was one of many ways you two fit together so well. You both balanced each other out in all the best ways, Spencer giving more where you had to give less, and vice versa. He always knew just what you needed, and just when you needed it. In so many ways, your friends were right. You were already a couple, basically, without the main perks of being together. You weren’t able to cash in on the parts of the relationship that you really craved – you wanted to kiss him, you wanted to fall asleep in his arms, you wanted to spend lazy Sunday mornings in bed with him and let him teach you all the video games you didn’t understand. You wanted Spencer in a way you couldn’t put into words. It was a visceral need deep inside your bones; an almost bothersome, unending ache. Your want for him outweighed any other emotion you could possibly feel.

You weren’t sure how much longer you could take it.

“Hey, Ang, can I talk to Spence alone for a second?” You smiled innocently, knowing she’d see through it.

“Oh, of course. I’ll talk to you later! Love you both!” She yelled, speed-walking away like her life depended on it. She was halfway down the hallway before she even finished her sentence.

Spencer and you turned to face each other, and suddenly your throat was quite dry. You remembered, gratefully, that he had brought you a Red Bull. You held a finger up to communicate that you needed a second, and then downed half the can in one go. You burped quite loudly afterwards, apologizing for the loud noise.

“You good, brother?” Your best friend inquired, his hand finding his favorite place on your wrist. He always touched your wrist when he was worried about you, a small gesture that always made you light up inside. Despite his overall relaxed demeanor, you could tell he was a bit anxious. His other hand started fidgeting not long after you asked Angela to leave.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. “Okay, so I’m going to word vomit right now. I know you’re going to want to tell me to shut the fuck up, but please let me just puke it out and then I promise you can have the floor afterwards. Okay?” He nodded, and you started again. “I love you, Spence. You know that, right?” 

Spencer’s fidgeting picked up speed and you grabbed both of his hands in yours, hoping to quell any anxious thoughts forming. You rubbed your thumbs on the back of his hands, realizing once again how warm he was. “You know that, right?” You reiterated, needing the confirmation before you moved forward.

“Yes, Y/N. I love you, too. You also know that, right?” You could hear his voice shake a little, tempting you to try and hurry this up so as not to stress him out. You still wanted it to come out coherent and somewhat romantic, but you weren’t sure if you could handle him being so anxious. 

You smiled, intertwining your fingers with his before continuing on. “Yes, I do. But I’m also lying to you every time I tell you that.” Spencer’s face very quickly dropped at this, prompting you to remind him to let you word vomit and that everything was okay. After you two shared some deep breaths, you continued on.  “I say I love you, and I mean it, because I do, but… honestly for years and years now, I’ve meant it differently than you might mean it. I do love you, but not as a friend. Spencer, I’m so head over ass in love with you. I’m tired of fighting it, I’m tired of hiding it, I’m tired of everyone making jokes at our expense. If you don’t reciprocate, trust me, I understand. I won’t be upset. I just hope you can forgive me for potentially ruining this friendship. But, I need to be honest with myself and most of all, with you. I love you, Spence, and not as a friend. And I’m hoping you can be okay with that.”

You took a deep breath, letting your words wash over him while you tried to quickly recuperate from the intense reeling in your brain. If everyone else at the Smoffice was right, he did reciprocate. But now you weren’t so sure. He had been silent far longer than you expected. You pulled yourself out of your head to look at Spencer, finally, having been looking at his hands in yours to try and center yourself.

But, he was crying. “Oh, god, Spencer. I’m sorry, that was not cool of me, we’re at work. I’m sorry, I’m... I’ll go.” You disconnected your hands and ran for the office doors, not bothering to grab your bag or keys or phone. You just really needed to be away from everything right now. If he called after you, or if anyone did for that matter, you didn’t hear it. You needed to get out. And you needed to get out now.

You made your best friend cry.

After telling him you loved him and wanted him in a way he couldn’t give to you.

How badly did you just fuck everything up?

✧˖°.⁺‧˚ ♡ ˚‧⁺ ✧˖°.

I'M SORRY aaaaaaaa

taglist: @lokidokieokie <3

[meanbossart]

what would have to go differently in DU Drows story for him to take the bhaalist route? would it be a split second decision in the temple or something he’d have to slowly accept over the course of the game?

EDIT: I slightly misread the question, the answer still holds but the first line is about what has to be done for him to turn AGAINST Bhaal.

Both mechanically and story-wise, it's pretty simple. He just has to be taken into the group kicking and screaming 🤷‍♂️

DU drow rejects Bhaal because he finds the world to be fun, he finds the people in it to be interesting and strange and he doesn't see any benefit to getting rid of it. Wyll may get on his nerves but he wants so badly to see the day where he snaps and stands up for himself, Halsin is annoying but boy have him and Astarion had a riot making fun of him behind his back, him and Jaheira get on each other's nerves for fun and Minsc is a living fascination - not to mention the endless NPCs that provide a moment's entertainment. Yes, Shadowheart sparing the Nightsong and Astarion's lifestory played a big part in his choices, but I think a base had to be set first, otherwise he could have very easily twisted the lesson's he learned from them into something that fit the pro-Bhaal narrative. He doesn't want to kill the world, the world is hysterical to him.

Also, BG3 seems to have a theme about showing compassion and extending empathy even to people who don't deserve it. A lot of its characters are the opposite of nice and personable throughout the vast majority of the game, and what you end up clinging to are glimpses of humanity that they try to hide from you - Shadowheart is objectively exhausting to be around, Lae'zel is literally and figuratively a social alien, Astarion is Astarion and realistically we would have all blasted him into the horizon team-rocket-style if he wasn't funny. I hated all three of these characters going into the game and now they own my balls, because they ultimately charmed me with something or other despite their flaws.

(They are also all hot, to be fair, but this is a fantasy video game so what'reyougonnado. Though personally none of them are my type.)

Sorry about the tangent, but I think that gets my point across well; DU drow needs to be given the benefit of the doubt for absolutely no good reason, as long as that happens, he would have no motivation in the slightest to turn to Bhaal. Even if romanced, a socially ostracized DU drow could not be persuaded to turn away from his father.

In the gameplay, this would translate to the MC encouraging him to see the silver-lining in things, either by showing kindness and understanding or emphasizing the entertaining moments they've provided you with; also, playing along to his mean-streaked humor instead of reprehending him for not always having a kind thing to say about everybody. You have to either see the best in him, or turn people into a joke instead of a threat. Done that, he would move into Act 3 without any inclination to take Bhaals's gift.

On the flipside, I think a romanced partner could persuade a "good" DU drow to consider it, though. By valuing his strength and potential-influence instead of his personality, he would arrive at the conclusion that to keep you, he must continue to pursue power, which would ultimately land you in the place Astarion ends up in his Bhaalist AU.

[tsuwabuki]

what if kobeni had a contract with famine?

1. she's the first one to mention starving in the infinity devil trap.

2. you could hide some foreshadowing under innocuous comments that anyone could make. it's not odd for a poor 20 year old girl to take comfort and enjoyment in tasty food. mentioning the hobby right after 'my devil is a secret' could be nothing, but....

3. someone on reddit mentioned a possible 'final girl' devil with kobeni which I love but I felt the kitchen knife mention would match better with famine. after all, we see falling devil act as a chef preparing a meal for famine. could expand that to kobeni.

4. after famine reveals her name at the aquarium, a kobeni bro makes his debut. also if the infinity devil was used by famine here, was it also used by famine the first time we see it?

5. what we know of famines motivations and context as a horseman translates well to a theory on kobenis abilities. they seem quite powerful when activated so you would need a powerful demon.

5a. ok so my theory. when kobeni is starved of enough good things (family, luck, companionship, safety, bravery, etc), to the point she is fully starved from her humanity, she becomes hyper competent.

you see her fail to reach this state in the hotel due to her clinging to humanity (feels bad about wanting denji dead, for stabbing aki, etc). I think she succeeds in reaching hypercompetence during the rhythm game bit due to being terrified and isolated, it just so happens that the hypercompetence went into playing the rhythm game.

the only other moment where kobenis devil contract ability(ies?) come into play is after her partner gets killed protecting her and she finds out her whole team has been wiped out.

5b. ok so how does this hyper competence after 'starvation' relate to famine as a devil? well the horsemen act as as symbols and metaphors for humanity/life to triumph over.

we see that supported by both conquest and famine taking the role of nurturing humans to become stronger. you could even make that claim for all devils but this isn't about that.

starving is supposed to trigger humanity's instinct to survive by Doing Whatever It Takes. this fits nicely to how I think kobenis contract functions and why she would accept a nerf on her life like that (and how it plays into mental health, childhood abuse, and how someone could choose permanent(?) self destruction at such a young point of their life).

the fact that we see her devil contract trigger (rhythm game) after she's already left public safety means she's stuck with that contract probably the rest of her life. she wanted to go to college but her neglectful parents forced her to pick between sex work and the equivalent of demon fodder.

and because we don't know anything about her contract, we don't know how much she gave up to have this power 😭 being starved of good luck sounds like a really bad longterm debuff even if you theoretically get really good luck at your most terrified moments.

i lost my train of thought here but I'll add one more tangential thing. fujimoto is showing multiple examples of what childhood abuse and/or lack of a stable life can do to someone and how those systems help, hurt, and trap them. kobeni is an example of something more grounded despite her being comedic relief and I love that contrast with her.

she was forced to join the military due to family pressure and economic situation, could not handle the mental strain and quit with a potential life long disability that could get worse over time. she gets a job at a fast food restaurant and has spent her life so far hopping from one toxic 'family' to another.

anyways. throwing kobeni famine contract into the theory pile

[wilcze-kudly]

Thoughts on…

https://www.tumblr.com/miss-sweetea-pie/731463633376313344/zutara-lens-vs-kataang-lens?source=share

Is it fair to even mention Zuko seeing as Katara never had feelings for him?

Honestly, I find it kinda funny that OP is sorta telling on themselves by seemingly primarily viewing Jet's storyline through a shipping lens, a stepping stone for Kataang or Zutara.

But sure, let's go with this narrative.

OP claims that Jetara could be seen a foreshadowing to Zutara, as they say that Zuko ans Jet have some similarities. And I suppose that can be true on a surface level. As OP says: Rugged teenage boys with traumatic back stories. But franky, other than being mildly edgy and also having been through some sort of trauma, there's not much there.

In fact, if you compare Aang and Jet, I think you'll find many deeper similarities than just "bad boy with questionable morals".

Aang and Jet have both experienced great loss at the hands of the Fire Nation. Aang losing his entire people and Jet losing his parents and village, presumably leaving them both alone in the world and with a lovely case of survivor's guilt to boot.

Jet and Aang are both kids who were forced by the war to take up positions of responsibility over their fellow victims. Aang, of course, being the Avatar and being fated to end the war. While Jet takes up a leadership positions, persumably gathering kids orphaned and hurt by the Fire Nation, leading them and keeping them safe, while also fighting back. Let's not forget that the reason Jet decided to flood that city was because the firebenders occupying it were planning to burn the forest Jet and the Freedom Fighters resided in, forcing them out and putting them in danger.

We also see a very sweet parallel of Jet encouraging Katara's confidence in her waterbending skills, which is something Aang does on numerous occasions, showing us exactly what affection Katara values in a potential partner and that both Jet and Aang not only believe in her skills, but also intuit her needs.

This is why Katara fell for Jet and why she fell for Aang. They're both protectors and heroes of the people, they're both victims of the Fire Nation who chose to stand up against it. They're revolutionaries, rebels, downright rabble-rousers. They both value communities, and do their best to uplift and defend their fellow victims, something Katara does as well. And they both connect with Katara over not only encouraging her in her own abilities, but also in their shared trauma, which leads me to my next point.

Aang works so well paralleling Jet, because both Jet and Aang were written and posited to parallel Katara. This aspect of Jetara is one OP completely neglected to mention, I suppose due to the fact that it doesn't hoist up Zutara as a ship.

Katara and Jet connect over their trauma very early in the episode, and I think this is where Katara's interest in Jet due to his role as a Freedom Fighter turns to a genuine connection over shared trauma.

Jet: The Fire Nation killed my parents. I was only eight years old. That day changed me forever. Katara: Sokka and I lost our mother to the Fire Nation. Jet: I'm so sorry, Katara..

Katara, Jet and Aang share many similarities, which is why I suppose these two boys were Katara's only explicitly confirmed love interests. Just like Aang and Jet, Katara is community oriented, a voice for victims and the marginalised, a fighter for the good of the people.

Seeing these parallels almost makes me wonder if the design team took this into account when making Jet's design colours mainly blue and orange, colours assvociated with Katara and Aang. Though Jet's colour palette is more muted and darker, perhaps signifying the erosion of his morals due to his trauma.

Jet goes astray when he begins to value the fight over the people he is fighting for, something Aang and Katara actively go against, prioritising human life and their moral integrity.

Atla explores the concept of victimhood and how it affects our morality in various ways, especially when it comes to victims of war. The particular focus of this theme is Katara, as we see the writers often connect her to victims who lost that morality, in order to showcase her character. Hama and Jet both serve as excellent foils to show what Katara could've been if she wasn't as kind and compassionate as they were. The crowning jewel of this storyline for her being, of course, the Southern Raiders, which bears callbacks to both Jet and Hama.

But as much as I want this post to be about Katara, OP has other plans, so let's go back to their arguments for Jetara foreshadowing Zutara.

OP makes an argument about how both Zuko and Jet break Katara's trust, testing her charcter, which is a good point, albeit they conveniently omit Hama from the circle of people who connected with Katara over shared trauma and then betrayed her trust.

Can't imagine why. Is it because Hama isn't hot, isnt it? Op doesn't fancy a nice morally compromised gilf, I suppose. 😒 we used to be a proper country.

OP also claims that the show portrays Katara as too trusting, and even claims that the shows message in Jet's case is, in their words: So from a k.ataang lens it leads more towards the lesson that katara need to stop letting these “bad boys” break her heart, “dumb girl your too trusting just give the sweet guy a chance”.

Which is quite the claim, since I actually really enjoy that Katara is never portrayed as being in the wrong, or 'dumb' for trusting Jet, Zuko and Hama. In fact, the three of them are made to look like assholes for taking advantage of her.

The thing about Katara's trust of Jet, Zuko and Hama isn't that it comes from a place of foolishness or naiveté. It comes from empathy and connection. She connects over shared pain ans trauma with these three and she wants to make a connection to alleviate their pain. It just so happens that Zuko is going through his disaster boyfailure era, while Jet and Hama are morally compromised by the horrific events that brutally formed their mentalities.

Anyways, to wrap this point up, can Hama be an honourary bad boy too I think she deserves that

Another argument of OP is that Jet's death could foreshadow Zuko almost dying in the finale and that is could teach, in their words: how we waste time holding grudges and sometimes people don’t have the luxury of apologizing to the people they love.

Now, this is interesting, because Jet's death very clearly connected to Aang's actual death and then ressuraction via Deus ex Katara. However, unlike the theme of pure romance OP proposes in their post, the canon storyline uses these events to feed more into Katara's personal development and stoyline, that of her fear of loss and helplessness, on which I elaborate here:

That is not to say that this storyline doesn't affect Katara and Aangs romance, but I like that the main focus is Katara's meantality and trauma. Because the thing with Katara and Aang's storylines and development is that they intertwine and feed into each other but aren't overshadowed by their romance.

OP continues to speculate that the jetara storyline through a kataang lense is that "bad boys" will break Katara's heart and that she should just "give the nice guy a chance".

I find this a gross twisting of the nature of multiple characters, relationships and storylines.

First of all, reducing Jet to a "bad boy" is fucking demeaning and kinda disgusting. He's not an edgy boy who smokes in the school's bathroom and rides a loudass motorcycle. He's a traumatised child soldier, caring for other children and desperately trying to stop the advance of an army that already has like 3 genocides under its belt. His morals getting messed up in the process doesn't make him a bad boy, they make him a realisitic victim. A kid who tried his best but became misguided.

In the same, paragraph, OP also claims that, despite the message of the show being that everyone is capable of good and evil and that everyone deserves a chance, because people are complex, Jet is not afforded that dignity and understanding.

AND LET ME TELL YOU LET ME FUCKING TELL YOU

That was upsetting.

Because Jet's redemption was shown so wonderfully and symbolically, to the point where sometimes it makes me more emotional than Zuko's.

In B2 we see that Jet has left the forest (persumably bcs the firebenders did burn down the forest) and his entourage has shrunk to just Longshot our trans queen Smellerbee 🏳️‍⚧️. We are told that he is looking for a new life in Ba Sing Se. So far so good.

It seems that the Gaang intervening with his plans has definetly made him rethink his actions. And he's looking to start a new, kinder life. Even going so far as to remove himself from the fight against the Fire Nation, something he had previously been so passionate about, perhaps because he recognised that it brought out his uglier side. Hell yeah we love a king who can recognise his flaws and strives to better himself.

Jet: I've done some things in my past that I'm not proud of, but that's why I'm going to Ba Sing Se: for a new beginning. A second chance.

Despite not being on the frontlines anymore, he's still a hero for the people, straling food for the ferry passengers from the greedy captain. Noice. He immediately takes an interest in Zuko, assuming as many, that Zuko was a victim of the Fire Nation like him, due to Zuko's scar.

Jet: You know, as soon as I saw your scar, I knew exactly who you were. You're an outcast, like me. And us outcasts have to stick together. We have to watch each other's backs. Because no one else will.

I find this SO endearing because atla places such emphasis on the connections and solidarity between victims. And Jet is no exception to this, having taken so many children orphaned by the Fire Nation (or just orphaned as seemed to be the case with the Duke) and also connecting over being hurt by the Fire Nation with Katara, the same way he thinks he is connecting with Zuko. (Jetara and Jetko should parallel each other actually instead of Jetara and Zutara)

Now things turn south when Jet realises that Zuko and Iroh are firebenders, which while showcasing that Jet's need for redemption hasn't healed his trauma (not surprising) around the Fire Nation, I can't really blame him. Like, he's seen the worst of what firebenders can do, why on earth would he stand by and let them infiltrate the city that refugees flock to in order to escape the war. And yeah he sounds like a raving lunatic, but he is right. Zuko and Iroh are firebenders.

From then on, Jet is used as a pawn by Long Feng and the Dai Li, but he still does his best to help the Gaang, seemingly holding no grudge against them for ruining his plans of mass murder.

We see a nice lil trauma flashback of Jet's childhood trauma, giving us a tangible illustration of his motivations and pushing us to sympathise with him. We see him and Katara share a sweet moment as she literally alleviates the pain of the memories. This scene can not only be read as romantic but as another example of solidarity and support between victims in atla.

But it's in the bowels of Lake Laogai, as Aang and Jet face off against Long Feng, that we see the symbolic redemption for Jet really come to its crescendo.

Long Feng, compels Jet into fighting Aang, directly paralleling Aang and Jet's previous battle in the Jet episode. Aang is trying to solve the situation peacefully, even while Jet is trying to hurt him.

Aang: Jet, it's me, Aang! You don't have to do this! Long Feng: I'm afraid he no longer has a choice.

[...] Aang: Jet, I'm your friend! Look inside your heart! Long Feng: Do your duty, Jet! Aang: He can't make you do this! You're a Freedom Fighter!

And I can't not think how the brainwashing pushed Jet into an almost identical situation as his grief and anger did all those years ago. It's a decent comparison, I suppose. Both stem from a painful, stressful situation, influence his actions, pusging him to do things against his usual morals, turning him away from the caring, idealist Freedom fighter he is.

But this time, Jet breaks through the thing clouding his mind. He remembers himself. His trauma, his friendship and care for the freedom fighters and his connection to Katara. He sadly pays the ultimate price for this.

And while I dislike this plot point, because as a rule of thumb I dislike when a character gets a redemption arc and immediately dies or redeems themself by dying, but I can appreciate this scene for how it defined puts a lot of care into showing us the change in Jet, his perception by the gaang and his role in the story.

Katara tries to heal Jet, but is pessimistic(in the commentary of this episode, it's mentioned that there could be a few explanations as to why she didn't use the spirit water.) Here, Jet urges Katara and the Gaang to go find Appa, leaving him to essentially die.

And it's as the Gaang leave, we can compare the ends of the two Jet storylines. In Jet, the last time we look upon Jet's face, it is twisted by anger and rage. In Lake Laogai, he wears a sad, but reassuring smile, and somehow looks at peace.

When Katara first had to leave him in Jet, her expression is one of betrayal and disappointment. In Lake Laogai, she looks to be preparing to grieve, almost as if she were trying to hold back tears. She's conflicted and sad in both scenes, but for different reasons, showing how Jet has redeemed himself in her eyes.

Where in Jet, we leave Jet disgraced and in turmoil, in Lake Laogai we leave him dying, yes, but also a hero, kind and brave, and free. And I like to believe that the second is the real Jet.

Ok this just turned into me gushing over jet, but I think this was important to highlight the significance and uniqueness of Jet and Katara's relationship. Presenting it as "the proto-Zutara" is a disservice to this complex, heartwrenching storyline. And that was kinda gross of OP. Shame on them.

I also think OP is mistaken by labelling Aang as just the "nice guy" whom Katara should "give a chance to". Aang is indeed a nice, kind person and this is something that attracts Katara, because she's also a good person and she values such traits. But this is not the only reason Katara falls for Aang. Like with Jet, she connects with him over shared trauma. He enables her growth, respects her as a teacher, offers her comfort when needed, is her friend and supporter.

Katara is not "giving him a chance" their relation simply progresses very slowly and in a slightly unorthodox manner. We see that Katara has a growing crush on Aang, blushing over him and getting incredibly jealous when other girls try to get with him.

I also like that Aang and Jet are never pitted against each other and Aang is never jealous of Jet. In fact Aang seems almost just as infatuated with Jet as Katara lol (jetaang rights babey).

OP also claims that a lot of people misinterpret TSR as Katara being manipulated by Zuko and "needing Nice Guy Aang to save her". Which is something I've talked about a few times. I don't believe Zuko was consciously manipulating Katara. He was simply trying to build a relationship with her because she was very adamant on hating him. And because he didn't know her that well, he tried to help by projecting his own needs and anger over his mother's loss onto her. Which is very 16 year old boy of him.

And I don't believe Aang was even trying to "save" her. I think he was simply trying to help Katara think through her actions throughly before she did something rash that may haunt her forever.

Aang bringing up Jet also seemed more like a : "hey remember when we saw a guy betray his morals due to his grief pain and trauma despite being a kind and good person with an good goal?" Which I think is a kinda understandable thing since it happened like twice to them already. And remember that Aang has also experienced how destructive his anger can be and he knows Katara's morality and idealism well enough to know that what she is planning is way out of character.

OP tags this post with "I swear zutara gives the show so much more depth" and while I don't want to deride the ship as a whole, the themes and storylines OP gave don't really bring that much depth into the show. It simply repurposes the arcs and storylines that served to either explore Katara, or the concept of victimhood and morality into serving a romance.

Which is... fine, if that's what you consider deep I suppose. I just think it's obvious that OP had clear biases when coming up with their post. And like, biases are fine, we're writing meta about a kid's show not a fucking reseaech paper, I'd be a hypocrite if I called OP out on having preferences.

But it's obvious that OP did their darndest to present Kataang in the least favourable light and didn't even try to consider giving it a shred of anything but a cursory, critical glance.

If I were to talk about their "Jetara foreshadowing Zutara" idea with its "bittersweet lesson how we waste time holding grudges and sometimes people don’t have the luxury of apologizing to the people they love" like they talk about Kataang, I could say (altering OP's text here):

"So from a Zutara lens it leads more towards the lesson that katara need to stop holding a grudge towards these boys who hurt and used her, “dumb girl you need to forgive them quickly cause what if they suddenly die and you realise you love them and regret it“ .

...which sounds like some manner of abuse apologism. I don't think OP had this in mind, but it just shows how easy it is to paint a benign message into something shitty if you're just salty enough.

I think that wraps this up. I can vaguely understand what OP meant, and it's a cute concept for Zutara shippers, I just don't know why Kataang slander had to get dragged in here. Since while OP seems fairly invested in Zuko, they visibly have a little issue giving thought to Katara, Aang and Jet's storylines.

Which is sad, especially in Jet's case, since he doesn't get nearly enough love from the fandom. So here's the little note from the atla cookbook that made me really emotional over Jet lol

HE COOKED FOR THE FREEDOM FIGHTERS AGH OUGH AGH

[caitas-cooing]

"Being able to revive Chidori and save Shinjiro in FemC's route goes against the themes of persona 3" is a take a see a lot, but it's never been one I personally agree with.

Death is a big part of persona 3, but the inevitability of death is not the only thing persona 3 is about. This game is about death and loss and how nothing last forever, but it's also about life and love and the importance of making the most out of life. It's about how it's worth making connections with people even if parting with them is inevitable. It's about how fighting for the things that you believe in is worth it even if you can't save it forever. Even if you save Chidori and Shinjiro it doesn't change the fact that death is inevitable, in Shinji's case he is still going to die sometime soon unless they can speedrun research that undoes the effects of the suppressants that he's been taking which seems highly unlikely. Yet they were still saved today, and that matters.

Another thing I think people don't take into account a theme that all modern persona games share and that is that the connections that you form with other people can make you stronger, or to put it a different way the power of friendship is just as much a thing here as it is in a Kingdom Hearts game. Persona 4 is probably the most obvious with this ("bonds of people is the true power" is literally text the appears on screen after the ending sequence in the persona 4 anime I don't think you spell it out any clearer than that) but it's a theme in all 3 games and it's something that appears in both the gameplay and narrative, from the way social links and confidants increase the amount personas level up when you fuse them, the confidants abilities in persona 5, the way visions of your maxed out confidants appear in front of the protags at the end of 3 and 4 and urge you to keep going just a little bit longer. They are what help to form the great seal. They help Yu and Joker defeat the gods and in their games (and also his therapist that one time). This is just another instance of that. If you seek or Shinjiro and form a social link with him despite his rough exterior not only do you get stronger but you also gain the ability to stop his death. It's not easy, maxing out a social link in a month is something you have to be deliberate about, and the game doesn't tell you where to find the pocket watch. It's something you have to go out of your way to get, but if you do it anyway you can impact the ending of this arc of the story in a positive way.

I think Junpei and Chidori's situation is an even cooler instance of the power that bonds can have in this universe because in this case the protag is not even directly involved in the relationship. They only give Junpei the push he needs to keep the relationship going even though Chidori is trying to pull her walls back up. All he need is to be encouraged not to give up and he keeps trying to keep that bond alive and strong all by himself, and because he took action and she kept reviving the flowers with her powers every time he showed up Chidori was able to not only be saved but also had the effects of the suppressants reversed. Things aren't 100% as they were before, Chidori no longer has the potential which means she only has a vague idea of the time she and Junpei spent together (and that makes sense as well because Medea fused with Hermes after she revived Junpei, so her persona is literally a part of his persona now she literally could not get it back) but she's alive, and she remembers the warmth and kindness of the time she and Junpei spent together even if the specific events are no longer there, and based on the way Junpei reacted to finding out I think that's enough for both of them. Junpei and Chidori relationship saved her beyond all odds because he went out of his way to keep the relationship strong and she still cared about him enough to keep reviving the flowers. One of the most powerful examples of the way connections can save others in a persona game to me.

[kimberleyjean]

What did Adam change? (Part 1)

To follow up on my recent reblog about the baby swap, I'm going to take a closer look at Adam where we leave him at the end of S1. Because, by the end of S1, Adam had changed quite a few things... and I'm going to use both the TV show and the book to provide evidence.

To become the Young's real son, I don't think Adam really needed to change all that much. He just says the words to Satan, Satan disappears, and that should be it, right? But no, because Adam goes much further, and I think he does it because he can.

Because Adam has opinions, you see. Opinions on how the world should be and what he wants to happen. Except, unlike Agnes, who needs to write a prophecy and then wait 300 years for her descendant to enact it, Adam can just make it so.

The Other Two Babies

I originally thought about putting all the things Adam changes into a single post, but instead I'm going to make this a short series of posts, because he changes a fair bit. Let's start with where we left off with the baby swap, crack open a copy of the book and discuss the changes for Warlock and Greasy first.

Warlock

Here's some excerpts of Warlock flying home from Megiddo to America (my bolds for emphasis):

It was Sunday afternoon. High over England a 747 droned westwards. In the first-class cabin a boy called Warlock put down his comic and stared out of the window.

...

And now he was going back to the States. There had been some sort of problem with tickets or flights or airport destination-boards or something. It was weird; he was pretty sure his father had meant to go back to England. Warlock liked England. It was a nice country to be an American in.

...

And Warlock flew on to America. He deserved something (after all, you never forget the first friends you ever had, even if you were all a few hours old at the time) and the power that was controlling the fate of all mankind at that precise time was thinking: Well, he's going to America, isn't he? Don't see how you could have anythin' better than going to America. They've got thirty-nine flavors of ice cream there. Maybe even more.

So it's Adam who has sent Warlock back to America, despite Warlock wanting (even, expecting) to be on his way to England. And he's controlling the fate of all mankind.

Greasy

Likewise, he has changes for Greasy Johnson too (the discarded baby who grows up to win prizes for his tropical fish).

The plane was at that point passing right above the Lower Tadfield bedroom of Greasy Johnson, who was aimlessly leafing through a photography magazine that he'd bought merely because it had a rather good picture of a tropical fish on the cover. A few pages below Greasy's listless finger was a spread on American football, and how it was really catching on in Europe. Which was odd… because when the magazine had been printed, those pages had been about photography in desert conditions. It was about to change his life.

Adam is deciding here how to alter Warlock and Greasy's paths. Warlock wants to be back in the UK, but Adam thinks America is better, while Greasy's magazine is changed to American football, which I guess is implying he's going to become an American footballer.

Now, not everyone may be aware, but these parts weren't in the first release of the novel. It only came about later, in the American edition. Apparently the changes were in response to prompting from the American editor, but they got "carried away" making those changes (source).

Season 3 (warning: speculation)

So, do you think this could be relevant for S3? For me personally, the fact that these bits were added later makes me wonder if this was helping to set up for a potential sequel. It's certainly poetic - just like the baby swap that originally involved all three, we are now implying a potential adolescent swap of Greasy, who is interested in American football, and Warlock, who is interested to return to the U.K.

If you've read at all about the hypothetical plot of the proposed written sequel, you'll know that it involved a trip to America, ostensibly to look for a lost Jesus. So, if the next book was originally meant to be about going and finding someone (Jesus?) in America, then Greasy or Warlock could make sense. It would be a switcheroo all over again if Warlock had left for the UK and Greasy for America.

Another alternative is that all three could end up converging in America, since Warlock already lives there and both Adam and Greasy have interests in going there. But if that's the intention, why mention that Warlock wants to be back "home" in the U.K.?

So, those are my possible takes on how this passage can be interpreted. I know there are some theories that either Greasy or Warlock may be the Second Coming. I've also seen a theory now that Adam himself could be a contender (both spawn of Satan and spawn of God - it'd certainly be interesting!). I'm not placing bets on any of these outcomes just yet.

In addition to this passage in the book, we also see some interesting changes made by Adam which are featured more prominently in the show - one's that have implications for the ineffable husbands.

Part 2 coming soon!

Thanks as always to everyone at the @ineffable-detective-agency (including @noneorother, @embracing-the-ineffable, @lookingatacupoftea, @251-dmr, @somehow-a-human, @maufungi, @havemyheartaziraphale, @theastrophysicistnextdoor, @dunkthebiscuit, @komorezuki, & @ghstptats).

[xxsksxxx]

Almost Heaven

Summary:

Mulder’s attempt to find more exciting cases to investigate while stuck in the bullpen turns into another weekend trip to the forest.

Meanwhile, Scully is faced with a tempting offer that could change both her future and their lives.

This story is complete, and I’m going to post one chapter a day.

AO3 | Back to the Beginning | @today-in-fic

Chapter 11: Almost Heaven

Washington, D.C. Scully’s apartment Sunday, November 29th, 1998, 9:05 pm

Scully raised her arm and checked her watch for what must’ve been the tenth time in the last hour. With a sigh, she got up from the couch and turned the TV off. It was no use anyway. She’d tried reading, she’d tried cleaning, and she’d even gone through her closet, finally putting all the summer clothes in a suitcase and storing them in her basement. The movie she hadn’t been paying any attention to was just the last straw. Nothing made her stop thinking about calling Mulder.

Just call him, she thought, exasperated with herself. You dropped a bomb on him in the car earlier. You might as well call him now instead of waiting for your usual bedtime conversation.

She’d tried all day to not succumb to the temptation to pick up the phone. If she wanted to keep being in Mulder’s life, things needed to change. She’d drive herself crazy if she kept up being caught in the middle between her hopes and reality. He was her best friend, the person she wanted to find truths with and uncover lies. But she had to learn how to accept that what she felt wasn’t the way he thought about her. He needed her in his life as his touchstone—and she wanted him as her romantic partner. And if she didn’t want to end up getting hurt, she needed to get back to treating him like a friend and not like a potential lover.

The thought that they would never be what she had hoped for only a few days ago, pierced her heart, and she swallowed. I’m not a lovesick teenager. I’m going to be alright, she assured herself. They’d been friends for years, and she had loved their relationship. There was no reason why she shouldn’t be able to be just as happy if things went back to the way they had been.

She checked her watch again and shook her head at herself. This was getting ridiculous, she was torturing herself for no reason.

With determent steps, Scully walked towards her phone and carried the portable to her living room window, looking outside. The parked cars lining the street were illuminated by the streetlamps, the wet roofs from the earlier November rain reflecting the light like sparkling stars.

For a second, she thought one of the cars looked like Mulder’s and squinted her eyes, trying to check if she could find her partner. You’re losing your mind, Dana, she thought. Stop seeing him everywhere and just call him already. You’re starting to see ghosts!

With a deep sigh, she pressed speed dial 1 and listened to the phone connect. Mulder picked up after the second ring.

“Hello?” he asked, his voice tense. She had been right, Mulder had probably been agonizing all afternoon about their conversation, and she closed her eyes against the sudden realization that she was the cause of his anguish. I should’ve called him right away, she thought guiltily.

“Mulder, it’s me,” she replied quietly, suddenly as anxious as Mulder, even though she didn’t know why.

“Hey, Scully, everything ok?” he asked immediately, and she kept her tone light.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I know this is not our usual time to call. I hope I’m not interrupting whatever you’re doing?”

“No, no, you’re not interrupting. I was just thinking about the case. You were right. The gunmen couldn’t find anything more on the sighting. It turns out Mr. Murphy is kind of known for having seen—,” he trailed off. “Phenomena.” She could hear the defeat in his voice and wished he was sitting in front of her now so she could touch him. With a shake of her head, she ruthlessly squashed that thought. This was exactly what had gotten her into trouble this weekend. He was her friend. Friends didn’t want to stroke each other’s hair, hug and hold each other, kiss, and touch each other’s bodies. With an internal sigh, she admitted to herself that she had still a long way to go before she was truly going to be in a place where she would be ok with just being Mulder’s friend.

She realized she’d been quiet for a while and focused back on Mulder’s breathing coming through the line.

“I’m sorry, Mulder,” she said seriously. Mulder grunted in acknowledgment, both knowing that there wasn’t much to say about the case anymore.

“So, what have you been up to? Did you have a good rest of the day?” he asked tightly, fishing for any information he could about what she was going to do. She heard a crack through the line and realized that he was eating sunflower seeds.

“Not much, did some chores, did a bit of reading. Pretty uneventful.”

“Did the medical journals have any new interesting mutants?” he joked, and she felt warmth spread through her, happy that he knew her this well.

“Nothing that would be considered an X-File, I’m afraid,” she joked back, feeling the tension slowly dissipate. It was going to be alright, she decided.

The crack of another sunflower seed being snapped open came through the line, and she smiled.

“I made a decision, Mulder,” she said calmly, reminding herself why she had called. “I’m not going to take the job offer.”

Mulder didn’t reply, and she felt the urge to fill the silence with an explanation. “I thought about it and tried to imagine what it would be like. And I realized that I couldn't even imagine it.”

She gripped the phone tighter, feeling her sweaty hand slip on the receiver, uncomfortable to be this open about her feelings. “And I thought about everything we’ve experienced, Mulder. All the things I still want to find, the questions I want answers to.” She took a deep breath and soldiered on. “We’ve got things to get done, Mulder. And I don’t want to do it without you either—not even temporarily,” she finished quietly.

There was a long pause, and finally, she could hear Mulder let out a long breath. “I’m glad, Scully,” he said earnestly, and Scully closed her eyes.

“Well, I’ll let you go then, Mulder,” she breathed, the relief making her nearly dizzy. She waited a moment for his reply, but when it didn’t come, she added a soft ’Good night’ and hung up the phone.

Scully placed the receiver back in its place on the side table and made her way into her bathroom, preparing to get ready for bed. She was exhausted from the emotional roller coaster of the last few days.

Scully was just brushing her teeth and pulling the jar with her nighttime cream from her cabinet, a headband holding her hair back when a soft knock sounded on her front door, and she turned in surprise.

She hardly got unexpected visitors. At least not the ones that knocked, she thought wryly. The only one who ever dropped by this late was—Mulder. Of course. But how could that be? She’d been on the phone with him only ten minutes ago. There was no way he could’ve driven over here in that short amount of time.

She hurried over to the door, and after a brief check through her door viewer, she pulled it open. “Mulder?”

Mulder pushed past her without looking at her, and she closed the door behind him, turning around in surprise. “How did you get here so fast? Did something happen?”

“I was sitting in my car when you called, trying to get up the nerve to come up here,” he explained, starting to pace her living room. She leaned back against the doorjamb, watching him, her brow furrowed.

He suddenly stopped and turned to her, his eyes brimming with emotion. “Why, Scully?” he asked. “I don’t understand. Why did you even have to make a choice?” He pushed his hair back with his fingers and shook his head. “I just don’t get it. You’ve been the one who’s told me that we shouldn’t give up. That we would get the X-Files back if we played our cards right. And Skinner makes one job offer, and you’re doubting everything?” He looked at her with wide, questioning eyes, and she turned her own eyes to the floor.

How could she explain to him that it wasn’t just about that? She did believe they’d get the X-Files back, but she had felt like that was no longer enough. Not anymore. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, struggling for the right words. How could she explain that she had tricked herself into believing she could have it all this weekend—that she had wanted what Dana dreamed of when she was sitting alone on her sofa on lonely Saturday nights? But that was completely on her. How could he have known? “I don’t know, Mulder. I guess—I guess I just felt—like I wanted something else.”

Mulder watched her wordlessly for a moment. “I thought I had made it clear. Back in my hallway a few months ago,” he began, and her eyes flew up to his. “Not just your importance to the X-Files—but also to me. Personally.” His eyes didn’t shy away from hers, and she could see his anguish. “I thought you felt it too.”

Scully’s eyes searched his face for what he was talking about. Of course, she remembered the hallway and everything that nearly happened there. How could she forget? “Felt what too?”

“Oh, come on, Scully. If I remember correctly, you wanted that kiss just as much as I did. Because if you didn’t, let me tell you, you were sure sending mixed signals!” He put his hands on his hips, his body language a clear challenge.

“Yes, Mulder. Yes, I wanted to kiss you. But what does that have to do with this? Why are you here?”

“I just want to understand! How can you even think about walking away from this, from us after everything—after what I told you—” His voice trailed off, and for a moment Scully could see the young boy he must’ve been. His eyes were huge and sad, and despite his confrontational words, she could still hear the vulnerability in his voice.

She took a step forward and placed her hand on his chest, looking up at him. “I wanted that kiss very much, Mulder. But I just don’t understand you sometimes.”

He leaned closer, almost as if he wanted to make sure he wouldn’t miss a word of what she was saying, and that gave her the courage to go on. “Why did you invite me to come along to West Virginia this weekend?”

“Because the gunmen had found Mr. Murphy’s message on an internet site and his memories of the Mothman seemed accurate,” he explained slowly, clearly still not getting where she was going with this.

Scully nodded, her thoughts confirmed. He’d never intended anything personal to happen during the weekend.

Mulder was still watching her, his eyes darting between hers. But he kept silent, so she tried a different route to make him understand. “Mulder, why did you brush me off last night, when I came over to your motel room?” She searched his face, trying to see the truth in his reaction. But Mulder looked utterly confused.

“Brush you off? What do you mean?”

“When I came over to your room, Mulder, when I asked you if you wanted to take a break, spend time together, go out to dinner, maybe go to the movies?” She realized her voice had started to get an edge to it and took a deep breath to calm herself down. This was not Mulder’s fault, she reminded herself. Just because she had thought he’d finally made a move to turn their almost kiss into a getaway weekend with hopefully a real kiss or two, didn’t mean that’s what had been on his mind.

Mulder’s eyes softened, and he brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Because I thought we could maybe spend some time together, looking for that Mothman. Reconnect. Remember how much fun we had when we were investigating these cases? How you’d call me crazy—and then go on a boat with me anyway to find Big Blue?” he smiled sadly. “I wanted to see you smile, and have some fun for a change, instead of all the shit details we’re stuck with every day now.” He placed his palm against the side of her face, his thumb stroking her cheek, almost tenderly. “Remember when we were in that cemetery in Bellefleur, Oregon? Our first case? The way you were shaking from the cold and the rain, your lips were blue. And yet you were so excited,” he smiled affectionately at her. “And your laugh. Despite it all, you laughed like you were the happiest person on the planet.” Mulder shook his head and took a deep breath. “Something changed for me that day, Scully. I knew I never wanted to ever do this alone again—and I wanted to have that this weekend. I didn’t want it to end, keep investigating until we were laughing about this case like we did back then.”

He let his arm drop and took a step back. “I guess that’s why I asked you if you wanted to come along. I just wanted to spend the weekend with you. Make you smile, do something exciting together, and maybe even show you a Mothman.”

Scully snorted, and Mulder laughed, reaching over and taking her hand in his. “That’s what I don’t get. You seemed to look forward to the weekend as much as I did. But then something changed. And it seems to be about—,” he paused, looking at her uncertainly, “not being in the mood for pizza?”

Scully just shook her head, squeezed his hand, and pulled him over to her sofa. They sat down together, never letting go of each other’s hands. “It’s not about pizza, Mulder. I guess we didn’t have such different ideas about the weekend after all. I wanted to spend time with you as well. And that Mothman did sound interesting—at least until it started to rain, and I was freezing—in the wrong clothes,” she explained, and Mulder looked chagrined.

“I should’ve told you that you would need hiking gear, shouldn’t I have?” He grimaced, and Scully nodded but didn’t reply. That wasn’t the point she wanted to make, though. “Why didn’t you want me to touch you?” she asked quietly, and Mulder’s brows drew in confusion.

“Didn’t want you—. Scully, what are you talking about?” He grabbed her other hand as well and pulled her closer, their faces only inches apart. “I don’t understand. And I really, really want to. When did I say I did not want you to touch me?”

“When I wanted to see if you’d gotten hurt. You moved away from me so fast, you’d think I’d burned you.” She bent her head down, ashamed of her neediness. She felt like a child, getting rejected over wanting a hug.

Mulder let go of her hand and put his fingers under her chin, lifting her face back to his. “Scully look at me.” When her eyes met his, she could feel them fill with tears, and she swallowed, trying not to let them spill over. This whole emotional roller coaster of a weekend was catching up with her at that moment. “There is never any time when I would not want you to touch me. Trust me on that,” Mulder said earnestly. “The reason I moved away was because I did hit my head pretty hard in the forest, and I didn’t want you to make me go to a hospital to get checked for a concussion.” He gave her a crooked smile.

Scully stared at him in disbelief. “Mulder—,” she started, but he put his finger against her lips to silence her and then bent his head down. “Scully, would you mind checking my head? I think I hit it pretty hard yesterday,” he said quietly, but his voice trembled slightly.

Scully stared at him until a slow smile broke out over her face. She placed her hand on his shoulder and kneeled next to him on the sofa, tenderly brushing her fingers through his hair, carefully inspecting the bump. She gave the back of his neck a little scratch while she was at it, and he raised his face to her, only inches away. Scully let her hands glide to his face, cradling it between her palms. “Your head seems to be fine, Mulder. Although—,” she whispered, but before she could finish whatever she had meant to say, he leaned in and softly covered her lips with his.

With a moan, she pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. Mulder didn’t waste any time and lifted her off the couch and into his lap. She felt her heart thunder in her ears and straddled his legs, gripping his hair with both of her hands. He moaned into her mouth and pressed her hips closer to his, jerking against her. This was what she had been hoping for all weekend. It’s still the weekend, her mind filled in helpfully, and she ruthlessly squashed the thought down, far too busy trying to get another moan like the one before out of Mulder.

She felt his hand sneaking under her sweater, stroking up her back, and a wave of heat coursed through him. Scully pulled back slightly, trying to catch her breath while Mulder reached out to pull her in for another kiss, but she put her hand against his chest, softly stopping him from moving in again.

“That’s why, Mulder. That’s what I thought I could never have.” She gave him a soft kiss on his upper lip and followed it with a nibble on his lower lip. “I wasn’t sure if I could keep going day after day, knowing that you didn’t feel for me what I feel for you.”

Mulder leaned his forehead against Scully’s. “You’ll never have to wonder about that again, Scully. Not as long as I’m alive.” He leaned in for another kiss, and she could feel his smile against her lips. Before he could deepen the kiss again, she got off of his lap and held out her hand to him. “Why don’t we move this to the bedroom, Mulder? I feel like we’ve done enough talking.”

Mulder didn’t need to be told twice.

[rocksama24]

🐈 & 🐦‍⬛

MOM SAYS ITS MY TURN TO MAKE THE CRACKSHIP!

Listen. It began as a joke and will end as one as well. They've never met, but that's the beauty of shipping, if we're talking about similarities, they're both dead, popular and have a lot of untapped potential.

[malwarechips]

ok hot take: arti is NOT balanced. specifically her combat. not in an overpowered way, but the opposite. she's not strong enough for combat against scavengers. arti has ZERO abilities to resist spears outside of the parry, which requires timing and honestly quite impressive reaction speed. ("just turn the game speed down!" some people cant play with the speed lowered! (me) ive been playing since before downpour and ive NEVER used the mushrooms so im USED to this speed. turning it down throws me off so much that id die MORE) sure, she can resist explosives somewhat, she wont die to them, but she still gets stunned anyways. so who cares if shes immune to death from explosives when she cant do anything PASSIVELY about spears, the thing that matters. you survive a grenade, but then you get stabbed in the head a second later and die anyways. scavengers weren't designed to be fought. they have a reputation system for a reason. they're the sort of creature you dont fuck with because they WILL fuck your shit up beyond belief. arti goes against all of that. and shes not strong enough to. she doesn't have resistences to what MATTERS. fighting large groups can be near impossible sometimes. and sure, you can avoid those most times, but you physically cannot in metro. you HAVE to fight them at least SOMEWHAT to even get through.

i understand how people can like arti. but the problem is she's simply not strong enough. i understand that rain world is MEANT to be difficult, but arti takes it too far imo. she's difficult into unfairness. sure, losing karma doesn't matter. but doing the same thing again and again and again just... is terrible. even if you take a different route. i took different routes almost every other time i died while playing arti. i still got sick of dying. i was so relieved when i beat it. i never plan on playing her again. she brought me genuine, terrible stress. she killed my drive to want to play rain world for a while; the thought of just opening it stressed me out. games are meant to be fun. i can understand how arti could be, but she just isnt to me. she's not fun. she will never be fun for me without significant altering. and even then, i highly doubt i could ever bring myself to play her again. just looking at her select screen art makes me anxious.

[exopelagic]

okay I severely misjudged spaghetti guy he’s actually just really cool

[dbphantom]

maybe i should have gone into practical effects instead of computer science...

[axellis-archv-2]

a moment abt overhalliday if you dont mind but its in the tags bc im embarrassed sowwy..

[quibbs126]

Wait, Kellen Goff IS in this game?!

[mejomonster]

I need one of those guides that's like how to date as an adult with the presumption the reader knows Nothing not even like first grade asking out fake crushes info

[dollfacefantasy]

I WANNA BE YOURS ♡

pairing: logan howlett x puppy-hybrid!fem!reader

summary: logan finds you, a special kind of mutant, out on a mission. when he takes in this puppy girl, you quickly forms a bond to him. he tries to tell himself he doesn't like his new shadow or want the attention, but it gets harder to deny as the two of you grow closer.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, oral sex (f receiving), hybrids, breeding kink, praise kink, dumbification, fluff, canon-typical violence, blood, nightmares

a/n: thank you so much to @gor3-hound and @nexysworld for beta reading <33

Adamantium strains against the skin between Logan's knuckles as his fists collide with his opponents' bodies. His claws beg to come out, to slice through his own skin and into the men he's striking. Despite causing himself pain, it would make this little struggle easier.

Regardless, he reigns in the urge and continues to fight without them. He didn't need them yet. Having a skeleton of impenetrable metal served as the only weapon he needed for right now. These guys taking him on weren't anything special, simple lackeys hired to protect a facility they didn't even understand the operation of.

His unpierced knuckles land a few strikes to one's abdomen, and he pops the other's face with his elbow. He whips his forearm around and slams the first to the ground in a finishing blow. The other man comes crashing down close behind after he connects his fist with the center of his face.

He looks at both of them crumpled up and unconscious on the ground, shaking off the adrenaline from the scuffle with a few rolls of his shoulders. He swipes the set of keys that hang off the belt of one who went down first and reconvenes with the rest of the team at the point of entrance to the next part of this warehouse.

"Did you find a way to open the doors?" Storm asks him. The white-haired woman struts beside him to the large cement doors at the end of the hallway.

Logan holds up the set of metallic keys, giving them a little jingle as his answer.

"Wow, and without shedding any blood. Impressive," Cyclops mocks from behind. Him and Jean walk a couple paces to the back of him, their eyes scanning for any potential hindrances to the mission.

"Night's not over yet, bub."

The four of them reach the door, and fortunately, it only takes a few tests to determine which key is meant for this lock. Before either Logan or Storm can push the barrier open, the door swings back under the force of Jean's telepathy.

They head inside but brace themselves for what they might see. This mission came about after the professor discovered that this building was being used as some kind of location to traffic mutants. The team had dealt with cases like this before, and they were never pretty. Often, the victims were young and struggling, picked up off the street or gathered from false mutant shelters to be sold into a life of experimentation or fetishization.

Upon first glance, this section of the building holds nothing new. The room isn't large in comparison to the others before it and looks more like a connector between the last hallway and another one. It's dark, not much light to get a good look at anything that could be hiding away.

Storm is eager to keep moving along and guides them towards the entrance to the next hallway. His other two teammates overtake him as well and follow behind her.

"I'm gonna sniff around here for a minute. I'll be right behind you," Logan says and waves them forward.

The two women spare him a skeptic glance, but Scott couldn't be more eager to part from him. They head off in the other direction, leaving Logan alone in the quiet between these four walls.

He just wanted to be sure there was nothing here, whether it be something he could help or something meaning to do them harm. Though he kind of hoped it was the latter. He never felt very good at the 'saving' part of being on this team. Let him go in a room full of threats, and he was guaranteed to be successful. He'd take every last one down in record time and not even have to think twice about it. But give him one person to comfort and tell that everything is gonna be ok, and that would have him breaking a sweat. It's not that he couldn't do it; he simply had to work at it. He didn't have to work at being a weapon.

Treading over the pavement cautiously, Logan's eyes sweep over the few vacant shelves and lonely crates. The room truly seemed unoccupied. He could probably only justify a few more feet before having to go join the rest of the team. But then he sees it.

A cage towards the back of the room, a tarp over the top. It sat near a smaller door he hadn't noticed before. He wasn't too concerned with going in just yet. First he wanted to see if anything was confined behind those thin black bars.

It was larger than a simple pet kennel but too small to give the impression that held anything monstrous. He walks closer to it. No sound came from it nor could he see any movement, but his curiosity had been triggered. He had to know why this thing had been secluded.

Once he's close enough, he crouches down and pushes away the rough white material draped over it. His fingers undo the latch and open the door so he could get a better look inside.

He peers in and is met with a pair of eyes staring back at him out of the darkness. His first instinct is to back up and get into a defensive position, but whatever's inside doesn't give him the chance.

You lunge at him and knock him flat onto his back.

He hits the cement with a grunt, and his claws cry out to him again. He could easily unsheathe them and tear whatever you were to shreds. But before he does this, he realizes that this isn't an attack. He's not in any kind of pain. In fact, nothing is really happening to him. All you were doing was... sniffing him?

He could hear your rapid inhales and exhales as your nose trailed along the collar of his white tank top. Straining his neck back as much as he can, he finally gets a good look at you. You were human - smaller than most with wide, curious eyes - but you also had floppy ears erupting from your scalp and a long tail coming from your backside that was whipping back and forth.

Even with all the different kinds of mutants he'd seen, he couldn't help thinking this was bizarre at first glance. He knew it was possible for mutations to express physically even though most were internal. For god's sake he had literal claws and knew multiple people who were straight up blue. But he'd never seen anything like this.

You looked like just a mix of canine and human. In honesty, you were pretty cute. You didn't look like the type of thing someone would shout 'freak' at from across the street. Hybrid was probably a more accurate descriptor than mutant. Either way, he didn't want you on top of him.

"Quit it," he growls before grabbing your waist and pushing you off. Based on the fact that you weren't attacking, he assumes you're a victim rather than a perpetrator. He rises to his feet to stand above you, ready to fight just in case. "What the hell are you supposed to be?"

You sit there, tail still wagging despite his rough temperament. Your eyes have that gleam that likens your appearance to a puppy even more than your ears or tail do. He realizes you might not be able to talk or something, but he doesn't get too far with that thought before you speak.

"A mutant. Like you."

His eyes narrow.

"Yeah? How do you know I'm a mutant?" he asks. He hadn't shown you his claws and you hadn't seen his skin magically stitch itself back together. Maybe you were on the other side of this mission.

"I can smell it," you answer.

That makes his eyebrow slowly raise. "Smell it?" he says.

You nod. "Mutants smell different than humans," you say.

You rise to your feet and stand next to him. Leaning in again, you smell his arm. Your head moves down his bicep and to his elbow and forearm. He pulls his limb away with a scowl, but you'd already had a chance to register the scent that'd caught your attention.

"You smell metallic too," you say.

So your canine traits weren't just physical. Logan knew you weren't lying, having an enhanced olfaction himself. He'd just never met someone else who also had that ability.

"Your mutation is basically just being an overgrown dog then?" he asks with a bemused expression, "You like playing fetch? Want me to call you a good girl?"

You can't help the automatic twitch in your tail when you hear that phrase, but your expression darkens as if a storm cloud had formed inches above those folded ears. 

"I'm not a dog. If I'm a dog, are you like a robot since you have metal in you?" you huff and cross your arms.

A sharp puff of air comes from his nostrils at your attempted retort. "Robot isn't exactly what they call me."

You grumble and roll your eyes. Your tail had gone still behind you and hung between your legs.

He continues to stare down at you, trying to decide what to do next. Even though you were a mutant, you didn't seem to be a fighter or have any skills that would be useful in combat. He wasn't just going to leave you here, but he didn't know how big a risk it would be to let you tag along.

"What are you doing here? Did someone lock you in that cage, or is that just where you spend your free time?" he asks.

"Someone took me and locked me in there," you say, your pout deepening.

"For how long?"

You shrug. Logan has the urge to roll his eyes just as you did, but he can tell your lack of knowledge is genuine.

"You don't know how long you were in there?" he prompts.

"No. Maybe like... a couple weeks or something. I don't know. It's hard to keep track."

Of course. Just like a puppy, you had a poor concept of time. He shakes his head and rubs his hand over his face. It did look like you'd been captive for a few weeks. You weren't in the best shape and had bruises littering your body. Your clothes were dirty and torn at the hems. As annoying as he found you in the few minutes he'd known you, he knew you didn't deserve this treatment. Locking a cute little thing like you in a cage was plain cruelty.

"Alright. Well what's your name? I'm Logan," he sighs.

You tell him, but just as the last syllable leaves your lips, footsteps burst into the room from the direction of the hallway.

Scott and Jean round the corner, clearly looking for their teammate. Logan turns around to see the new arrivals and relaxes when he recognizes the man in the visor and the redhead beside him. 

"There you are. We thought you took off or something," Scott mocks casually.

He opens his mouth to respond, but the words dissolve when he feels a thud against his back. 

You don’t recognize the people who'd just shown up, so you hide yourself behind the man who found you. Pressing yourself against his back, you cautiously tilt your head to his side to peek at Scott and Jean. Your fingers clutch the fabric of Logan's tank top so tight they threaten to poke little holes in the ribbed material.

"What- what are you doing?" he grunts and tries to look over his shoulder at you. The way you were latched onto him prevented him from turning around fully. He lifts one of his arms to see your eyes scoping out the potential danger in front of him.

"Get- C'mon get off. They're not gonna hurt you," he continues, brushing you off by reaching back and lightly tugging your hair.

You stumble to the side, and he manages to grab your shoulders and walk you in front of him. He holds you there, presenting you to Scott and Jean. The way your ears pin back to your head makes him feel a little guilty about making you confront the strangers so directly, but they weren't gonna do anything to you. Assuming they were gonna rescue you and take you back to Xavier's, you'd have to get used to prying eyes and meeting new people.

Both Scott and Jean look at you curiously, Jean with less confusion than Scott. Clearly, he had a similar thought process to Logan while the woman next to him could sense that you were a mutant and what your abilities were.

"I found her in that cage back there," he explains.

The two of them nod. They take a few more moments to simply observe you before they move closer and ask for your name. You give it just like you had to Logan. They nod again and then begin running through a similar routine of questions. Theirs are more detailed though and manage to coax more information out of you.

Your responses give them a quick little rundown of you. You fit the profile of the people they usually found on these missions. You're young, early 20s, struggling because getting a job was nearly impossible with your ears and tail. You had no family. They'd given you up after your mutation began to manifest. Everyone thinks puppies are cute, but apparently, no one wanted a human child that shared features with them. You'd been taken from the shelter you were staying at like most others who found themselves in this situation.

As you answer each one posed to you, Logan feels you subtly sinking back against him. Your back meets his abdomen like two magnets slowly being pulled together. Despite the annoyed look on his face, he doesn't say anything or pull away.

When the brief interrogation comes to a close, Scott relays to Logan that they had found other victims in another part of the facility. Storm was with them now, guiding them to the extraction point where they'd be taken to safety. The four of you just had to follow along.

Scott and Jean lead the way. Logan follows behind and you trot along beside him. He notices you're staying close to him in particular.

"Did the guys who took you say anything else about why they wanted you?" he asks. The fact that you were kept separate was still lingering in his mind. To him it didn't mean anything good.

You shrug and look up at him. "They didn't really talk to me that much unless they were being mean or spitting at me. Or kicking the cage," you say.

You say it like it's casual, but he can tell it hurts. He knows how it feels to an extent. All mutants do. Not many people will openly talk shit about a guy with metal claws, but the sentiment is still there. The idea that you're inferior. That something is wrong with you. That you don't belong in this life.

He just nods, not knowing much else to offer as comfort. "Did you ever overhear them talking about you? Any reason they wouldn't have put you with the others?"

"I think they wanted to figure out if there was more of me. Or if they could make anymore at least," you say after taking a moment to think, "Cause you know. Guys like the whole puppy thing. Makes me worth more I guess."

He cringes at the ugly picture you paint with those words.

The group of you continues walking, footsteps being the only sound in the hallway. Your tail had started wagging again which makes him feel a little better about not offering anything in terms of reassurance. But when you reach the room where the other victims had been, your tail comes to a halt and droops between your legs.

A party of men is spread throughout the area. They walk around scanning the now empty space, visibly incensed at their captives being freed. You slide yourself against Logan's back again, but you don't try to peek at them like you did with Scott and Jean. It doesn't take much to figure out that these are the ones who kept you in that cage.

They hear the team and you approaching and turn to face you. Despite your efforts to hide, they spot you before you're completely concealed behind the bulk of Logan's muscular frame. The one closest scowls at your attempt.

"I'm guessing the three of you know what happened to the things we had in here?" he says, sarcasm lacing each word.

"You could say that. And those people are long gone by now, so it's probably best you move on," Scott answers. His fingers rise to his temple in preparation to operate his visor.

The men don't seem to be threatened. The amalgamation of them tightens, forming a more crowded cluster.

"Yeah, you're probably right. But you're not leaving with that one," the same one says and gestures to you hiding, "She stays here."

"Not gonna happen, bub," Logan responds so quickly it surprises even himself.

His teammates also look interested in his seeming budding attachment to you, but they know better than to squabble in front of adversaries.

You are the only one the words don't strike in any sort of way, but that's because you didn't totally hear them. You're too busy trembling, hoping with everything you had that Logan wouldn't force you in front of him again and then kick you into the group of guys.

But obviously, that doesn't happen. There's more arguing that you don't hear because you choose to tune it out. You can sense Logan becoming more agitated and the air around everyone becoming more tense. Your body grows more rigid, your ears glued back to your scalp. You just want this to be over.

As these thoughts whirl through your mind, the arguing comes to a head, and Logan launches away from you. You feel naked without his large body shielding yours. 

Scott and Jean aid him. Your first inclination is to turn the other direction and just try to stay out of the way. You weren't confident in your combat skills. If you could seriously fight, you probably wouldn't have gotten snatched up. You didn't want to be the reason any of these people who were trying to help you got hurt.

But then you see someone coming up behind Logan brandishing a knife. It's out of your control, the way your muscles go taut and your lip curls back. You'd only ever been in a real fight once before in your life, and you don't remember feeling this vicious. You spring up behind the man, finding where his shoulder meets his neck and biting down hard.

The cries of agony and grunts of anger seem to go on forever. The smell of blood invades your nostrils as you deal with your target. He'd fallen to the floor when your teeth sunk into his flesh. You feel him thrashing underneath you as you rip and tear, but you don't stop until he's gone still. You then pull off and wipe your mouth, twisting around to sit on the abdomen of your incapacitated enemy.

Logan also had no difficulty dealing with the men coming at him. There were just more of them, so he took a little longer. After one last thud of a body crumpling to the floor, only heavy breathing sounds through the warehouse.

Jean and Scott seem fine. They stand there checking each other over, and you see them share a brief kiss. You glance over towards Logan next and decide to return to his side.

He's alone. The sounds of panting are mostly coming from him. His body glistens, muscles lightly coated in perspiration. His scent is stronger to you now, and it only grows more overwhelming as you approach him. Men lie at his feet with pools of blood around them, presumably the same crimson liquid that stains his hands, wrists, and forearms in streaks.

You make your next move without thinking. Coming up to his side, trying in vain to avoid getting your ratty socks soaked with blood, you press your cheek against his bicep and snake your arms around his.

He then looks down at you. His eyebrows raise at the blood that coats your mouth and chin and trails down your shirt. You hadn't seemed like any type of predator before. Your presence was more akin to a puppy that'd be torn apart by wolves than anything that could do anyone harm.

"How'd you do that?" he asks.

Your finger rises and hooks under your upper lip, pulling it back to reveal your canines, sharper than a normal person's.

He nods and watches you with some mixture of curiosity, irritation, and fondness.

"Pretty good," he says simply.

You beam at the praise, blood-stained lips parting into a wide smile. He feels your tail wag harder and brush against the back of his leg.

The touch is nice. It makes him more conscious of the way you're still holding onto him, your hand curled around his muscle and your hip against his. He's not sure what it is. A silent thank you, a note of understanding, or a pledge of loyalty.

But he doesn't need a thank you, someone to understand him or devote themself to him. He's just doing what he's supposed to.

He slides his arm out of your clutches and gently pats you on the head.

"C'mon, let's get going," he says and starts walking towards the exit.

You trot wordlessly behind him, which he's grateful for. But more than that, he's just happy Scott didn't have anything to say about your sudden bond to him.

Once the jet picked you up from the extraction point, the trip back to the school was a breeze. You mostly keep to yourself while trying to stick close to Logan. He sits you next to him and cleans up your face, but you sleep for most of the actual traveling time to the destination.

You hadn't realized how tired you were until the seat hit your back and the buckles of the seat belt latched over your chest. With that manifestation of security, your eyes began drooping and your head was drifting to your shoulder like it was your center of gravity.

Logan's voice is what wakes you up. It's unclear to you how much time has passed, but that doesn't bother you. You feel him gently jostling you before unbuckling the straps across your chest. He calls your name a few times until your bleary eyes open and focus on his face.

"There you are," he says, "C'mon. We're here."

You still watch him without saying a word. Your hand rubs over your face to try and pull yourself closer to being awake. He watches you before offering his hand.

"I'm not carrying you, so you need to get up," he says in a tone you were becoming familiar with. It sounded irritated but not directly at you. Like this man was just in a constant state of being pissy about something.

You take the offer regardless and let him pull you to your feet. The two of you exit the jet together, him helping you out to ensure you don't trip on the gap between the ramp and the ground.

Once you're out, your eyes widen. You expected a boarding school to be pretty fancy, but this was nicer than any place you'd ever been. The walls stretched up the sky, crafted with bricks and decorated with large glass windows. The path there was paved and bordered with kept plants. You could see beyond that though. The large expanse of the property. So much space to run and do things.

Logan watches your reaction with amusement. "It's a lot to take in when you first get here," he says.

You nod, and your eyes continue to dart around and absorb the sight of everything. Storm and Jean lead the others who were saved off to another part of the building to be reunited with their families or taken back to their lives or even given verifiable resources. But you don't want to go with them.

You grab Logan's hand and look up at him, shaking your head.

His first reaction is to try and pull his hand free of you, but you have a tighter grip than expected. "What? What's the matter?" he asks you while still trying worm his hand out of your finger's lock.

You don't know how to articulate it because what you want is very simple. You want to stay with him. You want to stay here. You don't want to go back out to the world where people point and laugh at you or turn you away from everything. You just don't know how to say that without it seeming weird.

Luckily for you, Scott gives you a bit of help. You're not sure if that's his intention or not, but either way, you're grateful for the help.

"Maybe we should take her to the Professor. He might want to see about her mutation or ask her about that stuff back there," he tells Logan. You can tell from the way Scott speaks that he doesn't really like him too much.

Logan thinks about it for a moment before nodding. Before leading you there, he uses his other hand to pry your fingers off of him. You frown at the loss of connection and shoot him a glare. That brings an actual smile to his face.

"Follow along, pup. Don't need you getting lost," he says as he turns to guide you down the halls of the school.

The sun hadn't even risen, so not too many people occupied the common rooms. You catch sight of a few. They stare back at you, but unlike what you're used to, they don't look at you with disdain or mocking. It's simple, innocent curiosity. The only thing that seems to worry them is the bright red stain going down the front of your shirt.

Inside the room had been an older guy in a wheelchair. The professor talked the nicest out of all the men you'd been around today. When he looked at you, you felt like he understood you. He didn't even seem perplexed like Scott or Logan had. He'd merely said you were "interesting."

He talked to you for a while. He asked similar questions similar to the ones you already answered, but the third round of them got even deeper than the last two. Once he revealed that he could enter your thoughts if he wanted, that made a lot of sense.

Though he didn't really need his ability to understand you. Your experiences were written all over your face, practically sewn into the seams of your clothes.

He could see how, like every mutant, you led a life dominated by rejection. But in a different way than most others of your kind, you were vaguely familiar. Seeing someone with a tongue ten feet long or with blue skin or claws was jarring. It was weird.

But you - you look like a cute puppy. You walk the line between disturbing and endearing.

Charles can also see how you long for belonging even deeper than most. It's as if your mutation gives you the drive to seek out affection, for someone to devote yourself to. He can tell this by the way you linger around Logan.

If he moved an inch, you followed in the same direction. If he looked away, your eyes followed along. You were only settled if he was looking at you, not in danger of leaving your vicinity.

After talking to you for a while, hearing about your abilities and getting to understand your personality, he offers to let you stay at the school. He tells you it might be beneficial for you, and if you don't like it, you're welcome to leave anytime. It's only meant to give you a chance to understand your gifts and learn to control them and use them for good.

Of course, you accept. It wasn't even a question.

"Wonderful. Scott, show her to the extra rooms she can stay in and the shower so she can clean up a bit," Charles says. He watches as your eyes flit to Logan and then Scott. He also sees Scott's uncertainty as to why he was given this job.

But he nods and gestures for you to follow him, which you reluctantly do.

You trail him silently up the stairs, and he gives you a little guide to where everything is. He gestures at the direction of the student wing and the staff wing and then takes you to the latter. He points out the different bedrooms and grabs you a change of clothes on the way to the bathrooms.

He's nice to you. A little stiff, but he still smiles and laughs softly at quips he makes or your skeptical reactions to things. You want to ask him about his sunglasses, but you figure that'd be rude so you refrain. When he leaves you at the bathroom door, he tells you to just call if you need anything cause he's right down the hall.

Stepping inside, you peer around the expansive room. You'd never seen a bathroom so large. It was nice like everything else was in this place. The counter was spotless and smooth. The tile was sleek with a soft mat beneath your feet at the door and waiting for you in front of the shower.

You undress yourself quickly and turn on the water, waiting for it to heat before stepping inside. There's some products on the shelf inside that you use. You lather the soap on your hands and rub it over yourself fast. It felt really good, especially since you hadn't had a proper shower while being held captive. But you still work at a sped up pace. Although the novelty of everything had impressed you at first, you were beginning to yearn to be by Logan again. It wasn't a need that would make you lose control, just a little itch like a bug crawling up the path of your veins.

Downstairs, Charles kept Logan behind in his office so the two could talk. They briefly recap the mission before moving to the subject that was the true reason for the extended conversation.

"It seems she's quite taken with you," the older man starts simply.

"I guess," Logan responds, his voice unamused with the idea.

Charles huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. He goes to say something else, but the other man carries on the conversation himself.

"She'll get over it. She's like a little duck following around the first person she sees," he says and crosses his arms.

"I think you underestimate her intelligence, Logan. She's not a helpless animal-"

"I know that," he interjects quickly.

"She's one of us. She's formed an attachment to you for whatever reason. I would like her to stay here for at least for a little while to examine the traits of her mutation. I've never seen any that so closely mimic an already existing animal," he explains, "But I want to know that you're ok with that."

Logan scoffs. "Why wouldn't I be? That doesn't have anything to do with me."

"While she's here, she's most likely going to want to be around you. I just wanted to make sure that's not something you're wholly uncomfortable with."

"Please. I can handle it," he dismisses.

Charles watches him, ever-entertained by how hard he tries to present the idea that he's unaffected. 

"If you say so," he says, "Just try not to scare off too quickly."

"I'll play nice," he says.

A few more words, and he's dismissed. He turns on his heel and heads out the same doors he entered. Just as he does, you glide down the stairs into his field of vision, tail wagging lazily behind you over the waistband of the sweats Scott gave you.

When you see him, it swishes a bit faster and your ears perk up. His eyes narrow.

"What are you doing down here? Didn't Scott show you where to go?" he asks.

You nod and prance down the remaining steps. Truthfully, you'd been seeking the man before your eyes, but you couldn't just say that.

"Am I not allowed to look around?" you ask.

His eyes remain hard on your face. "Aren't you tired? Mauling that guy didn't take anything out of you?"

A subtle pout forms on your lips, and you consider retreating back to the bedroom you'd been given. He clearly wasn't in the mood for you right now.

Logan sees the reaction his words brought on. He feels that little sliver of guilt shifting around inside him. Maybe his phrasing hadn't been the best... but then again why did he give a shit?

"How about we just get you back to bed? I'll show you around more tomorrow," he suggests.

You take what you can get and nod, your features slightly elevating at the form of peace he offers you. He retraces your steps up the stairs and down the hall with you on his heels. He spots the room Scott had picked for you. The door was ajar from how you'd left it to go find him.

He leads you inside but remains in the doorway himself. There really wasn't any reason to stay, so he should probably be leaving...

"Have you been here a long time?" you ask suddenly.

His eyes land on you again. You were perched on the end of your bed that was still fully made up, the comforter tucked in and everything.

"What?" he asks.

"Have you been here long? Scott said he's been here since he was a teenager," you say.

"Oh. No. Only a little while," he says. "I'm still pretty new here too."

That makes you happy, it's obvious from the hope that gleams in your eyes. "Are you like a teacher too? Or... something else?"

"What would that something else be?" he asks with a smirk, taking a few steps into the room with you, "Having a hard time picturing me teaching?"

"Well I just mean-" you try to justify before laughing a little, giving in, "Yeah. I can't really see it."

"Me neither. I'm not a teacher. I just help out sometimes," he says.

He walks even closer to you, causing your head to tilt up to look at him. Now you really looked like a puppy.

This close, he was all you could smell. You could see every individual hair on his forearm. It felt as though you could hear the strong beat of his heart. His eyes pierced into you from above, and you wondered if he was observing you in a similar manner.

"You gonna sleep on top of these blankets?" he asks.

The mention of something else besides him snaps you out of your little Logan-centric daze. You look around at the bedding and then back up at his head. The two styled points of dark hair look like he has two ears of his own mirroring yours.

"No. I'll fix them," you say and stand up to tug them free, "I don't need you to tuck me in."

"I wasn't offering to. I just don't want you getting up and trying to 'look around' again. Don't need you getting lost and wandering to my bed."

The idea brings heat to your cheeks and neck. It sounded nice for so many reasons. But the bed you had now outmatched the hard bottom of the cage you'd been sleeping on, so you weren't going to try and swing for more.

Once the comforter and sheets are peeled down, you climb back on the bed and sit against the pillows. There's a small pause. A puddle of silence pooling between the two of you. You don't know what else to ask, but you feel if you don't say anything he's gonna leave. So you pull out the first thing you can think of.

"What is your actual mutation?"

His brows rise with interest, and he closes the gap between you by sitting on the edge of your bed. Curiosity shines from his eyes onto you, silently questioning why you wanted to know.

"I know you're not actually a robot, but I can still smell the metal and stuff. What does it do?" you ask.

"The metal isn't my mutation," he says.

He raises his fist about a foot away from your face. His fingers are balled up tight against his hand. You cock your head, wondering what he's showing you.

Before you can ask any questions though, three shining metal claws emerge from between his knuckles. They come out slowly, a pace prolonged enough to be considered teasing. Your eyes widen at the sharp points and you scoot back, smooshing the pillows against your head board. All you can wonder is if he didn't take them out earlier or if you really had missed something so monumental.

His laugh rises in volume. "Relax, I'm not gonna cut you."

The claws come to a halt when fully extended. You wait just in case something else is going to happen, but nothing does. You bring your finger up and poke at the hard surface. They were so beautiful but unnatural too. You'd never seen anything like them.

"But I didn't see anywhere for them to come out?" you say softly.

He flexes his hand and extends his fingers, retracting the claws much quicker than they appeared.

"There is no place for them to come out of," he says and offers you his hand.

You frown at the little cuts the sharp rods left in their wake, but like little zippers, they close up. You blink at his hand. All evidence of his mutation was gone.

"So you can heal? And you have claws?" you say more to yourself than him, "Does it still hurt when they come out?"

He nods and watches you examine his hand.

Upon seeing his confirmation, you can't even help what you do next. You pull his limb a little closer and kiss each spot where a claw had emerged. Every phantom cut gets a soft smooch left where it would soon reappear.

"What are you doing?" Logan asks, her arm tensing up on instinct.

You glance at his face before releasing his hand. "Oh... sorry," you say and shrug sheepishly.

To your surprise, he doesn't scold or chastise you, doesn't get up to leave in a hurry. He simply pulls his hand back and gives you another look before saying good night.

"Get some good sleep. Like I said, I'll show you around tomorrow," he says.

You slip down in the bed, resting your head on the plush pillows and pulling the blanket up over your form. He heads out into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

A deep exhale leaves his lungs. He shakes some of that tension loose. What had he been doing? It almost felt like some different person had taken over him in there. Another version of himself that didn't have to be reminded to 'play nice.'

The few weeks you're supposed to stay at the school stretches out into a longer timeframe. It'd now been a few months since that day he found you in the cage and set you free. Though that month or so you'd spent locked up turned out to be worth it because you now had a place that made you happier than anywhere you'd lived before. You had a family.

You had Jean and Storm who were helping you train so you could one day go on missions with them. You had the Professor who taught you more about yourself than you had ever thought to ask. Scott was there too.

And of course, you had Logan.

Logan. As much as he tried to seem reluctant, to appear uncaring and nonchalant, he had grown to enjoy your company more with each passing day that you followed him like a shadow.

It was irritating at first. Before, he'd been able to drift through the school relatively unnoticed. Now, every single place he went, he was trailed by whoosh whoosh whoosh. The sound of your tail going back and forth. Anything he tried to do was accompanied by the feeling of two glimmering eyes trained on him. He'd tried to brush you off, but you didn't waver.

"Don't you have anything better to do than stalk me?" he'd ask, shooting a side eye your way.

"No," you'd respond.

"Well, find something."

"I don't wanna."

And who was he to argue with that?

In a way, the bond you seemed to have formed with him was flattering. It seemed like he could do anything, and you'd never view him as anything but the greatest creation to grace this earth. So he just lets you follow him around. He assumes after a while, you'll see him for what he is and lose interest, or you'll just grow bored of him and find something else to be the object of your obsession. Though so far that day hadn't come.

After a while of you always at his side, he started to cave and include you in his little routines.

One day he was doing sit ups at the foot of his bed while you sat nearby. His body rose and fell, abdomen kissing his thighs in regular intervals. But every time he came up, he found himself looking over at you.

"Hey, pup," he said, the nickname he developed for you coming out effortlessly, "C'mere for a second."

Your ears perked up. You weren't usually involved in what he was doing. You scoot over to him and kneel at his feet, awaiting a command. You could be so obedient sometimes it nearly made him feel guilty.

"You wanna help me with something?" he asked. As he expected, you nodded right away, so he continued, "Just hold my feet down. These only work if your feet stay flat. So just make sure they do."

You gave him another dutiful nod and got in position. Your hands held his feet down as he worked out just like he asked. Each time he came up off the ground, you looked at him with a big goofy smile.

That was just the first thing. From then on, the two of you actually did stuff together rather than just going about your things nearby one another. He'd help you train, and you'd help him clean Scott's bike when he finished using it.

Tonight, exhaustion aches in your bones after running around all day. On top of that, you'd had so much stuff to do yourself that you'd barely even seen Logan all day.

When the sun's finally down and the students have all retired to their bedrooms, you find him in the living room. He's leaned back into the couch, nursing a bottle of something. You assume it's not beer since you're at a school, but with how often he lamented about that limitation, you wouldn't put it past him to sneak one in.

You hop over the arm rest and curl up on the opposite side of the couch from him. He looks over at you, not displeased with your presence.

"There you are. I thought you finally got tired of me and found someone else to bother," he teases.

"I could never do that," you reply with the same playful cadence. You scoot a little closer. "I was just super busy today. The Professor was having me talk to some of the students, and then Scott needed me to grab something for him from the shed. It was really hard to find, so it took a while. Then I had to do my own training, and Jean made me try on some sizes for my suit..."

As you chatter on about your day, Logan finds himself nodding along, even occasionally reacting to what you say. He's not rolling his eyes or telling you to leave him alone. It's weird, but he can't say he wants to feel differently.

"Sounds like they're working you like a dog," he says when your story has reached an end.

Your face darkens like it had on the day he met you, shooting him a quick glare as a reminder not to say the forbidden d-word.

"Right, sorry," he corrects, "It just sounds like they're running you ragged. Don't let 'em work you too hard. Scott can get his own shit."

He still didn't understand your hang up about that word. He could call you pup, puppy, or any variation of that, and you'd react with nothing but joy. But utter d-o-g in your vicinity, and he felt like he was at risk of getting his throat chomped on. Luckily, it only takes his small apology for your normal demeanor to make its return.

"It's ok. I don't mind helping. I like having stuff to do," you say and shrug.

"I thought your 'stuff to do' was watching over me," he jokes and leans forward, placing his bottle down on the table.

You're not sure why, but you take that as an invitation to scoot even closer to him.

"I thought you wanted me to find better stuff to do."

"Fair," he chuckles, "Maybe this is one of those things where I'm not gonna realize I miss something until it's gone."

He brings his hand up from the back of the couch to massage the base of one of your ears. The soft fluff feels almost luxurious against the rough pads of his finger tips. He knew you loved the sensation. It had been an accidental discovery, something he did one time as a joke. But the way you melted into the touch had been more than just funny to him.

You lean into it now and nuzzle his palm.

"It was just one day. It's not like a permanent new routine."

"For now. Then soon enough, I'm gonna catch you trailing somebody else with hearts in your eyes," he says and gently tugs your ear.

You laugh at the tug and the stupid words. "You will not. Plus, I don't have hearts in my eyes for you."

"Oh really?" he teases. He leans in, his face hovering a couple inches away from yours. "I think I can see some now."

The two of you stay locked in a stare for a few lingering seconds. He'd never been this close to you before. You'd never heard his voice lower in that way, sounding almost desiring. Heat starts to crawl up from your belly through your chest to your neck. Before it can reach your cheeks, you turn your head to face the tv.

"Shut up," you huff, choosing to play the interaction off as a joke.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see his grin. He chuckles and his arm returns to its place behind you, above your shoulders. Quiet blooms between the two of you, kept from being total silence only by the hushed noises of the tv set across the room. It doesn't feel awkward though even with the sudden shyness he'd brought over you.

You angle yourself and lean in so that you're sitting against his side. No words come from him, he simply lowers his arm to sling around your shoulders and keep you there. His thumb idly pets back and forth over the smooth skin of your forearm.

The heat of his body radiates from his side and into you. Makes you feel safe and comfortable. Like you're where you're supposed to be. It's easy to sink into him further and tilt your head to rest on his chest. Before long, your eyes feel a little droopy. Blinking feels sticky, and your mind just wants to retreat to the soft embrace of sleep.

Logan can tell. He's not sure of the feeling this knowledge brings him. Pride? Contentment? Affection? Instead of thinking about it harder, he just pulls you a little closer and lets you drift off. He considers saying something, letting you know he doesn't mind and that you don't have to try and stay up. But nothing comes from him and the quiet continues.

He watches you slowly slip away. Your neck loses the wherewithal to stay upright, and your breaths soften, blowing in and out in a thoughtless rhythm.

The feeling that flows through him takes him by surprise. Pure endearment towards you, not a hint of anything else. He lets you sleep there for the next hour or so. When you're still out cold after that time has passed, he's unsure of his next move. He doesn't want to wake you and shatter the peace that had settled over the room, but he had to head to bed himself and wasn't going to leave you stranded on the couch in the common room.

The light of the tv glows across the two of you as he mulls over his options. When he finally decides, he grabs the remote and shuts the device off, cloaking the room in darkness, spare the distant blinking lights that could be seen through the windows. He rises from the cushions that had molded to cradle his weight, making sure to keep a hand on you to prevent you from slumping over.

This time he doesn't shake you or offer a hand. He reaches around and tucks an arm under your legs. His other supports you across your shoulder blades as he lifts you into his arms. He traverses the furniture with caution, making sure to avoid bumping into a stray corner or tripping on a catch in the rug. Then he moves up the stairs. Your limp body bounces with each step.

He nudges the door open to your bedroom and takes you inside. Your scent seemed to fill the entire room. Every time he took a breath, he got a lungful of the heady smell. Your bedroom was so you now. The way you'd decorated it and splashed your personality over every inch, it'd be hard to believe that just a few months ago it had been so sparse.

What had been a blank bed, covered only by a plain duvet and thin pillows, now held your extra fluffy cushions, a nest of blankets, and your steadily-growing collection of plushies. Trinkets lined your shelves and tables, and you even displayed a few posters over the walls. It was you, all around him.

He walks the few paces to the edge of the mattress before laying your body down on the foamy surface. He drapes a nearby blanket over your form. Even though he's technically accomplished what he meant to, he doesn't leave yet. He lingers like he can't seem to help doing around you.

You're still fast asleep, unaware of the change in locations. He watches a haphazard swallow move through your throat before you settle into the familiar setting.

He finds himself not wanting to go back to his room. He'd been at the school longer than you and never made his own so nice. Really, he didn't think he could make it as nice. But that was just because nothing about him was as nice as you.

When the resolve to leave finally surfaces in him, he reaches out and rubs the base of your ear.

"See you in the morning," he murmurs. Unlike before, the rest of what he wants to say doesn't get tangled up in his throat. "My little puppy girl."

That night won't leave your head for the next week. It almost feels like a dream. You'd woken up in your bed the next morning, assuming that's what it was. The undeniable change in location was the only thing that made your mind accept it as reality.

In the following days, things stayed the same for the most part, though you would have sworn, Logan acted a little less grumpy around you. Only by a microscopic degree, but enough for you to note the shift.

Nothing that big happens though. You don't even repeat the cuddling incident again. You kind of just assume that it was a one time thing. A nice experience, but not one to be repeated.

The memory of it floats through your mind often though. The pulse of his heart beating against your cheek, how you could hear it in your ear clear as day. Your stomach flutters at the thought of him actively pulling you closer, wanting you that close. You can feel your dedication to Logan blossoming into something more. It was already rooted so deep inside you that you didn't think it was possible, but you could feel it. The branches of reverence spreading in your chest and growing into something closer to adoration.

You could feel it now, sitting next to him on the bench in the school's spacious yard. He'd been tasked with watching some of the students for the afternoon, so of course, you tagged along. Shade speckled his face with alternating blotches of sunlight and gray. The stray beams of light made his eyes glow, and his hair shine all pretty. The sounds of the students practicing their abilities clouds the background of your focus, and they become even more distant when he suddenly turns to you.

"You're staring," he teases with that little smirk of his.

Your eyes flutter at the accusation. "No... I was not."

"Yeah you were. Even worse than usual."

"I just was thinking and zoned out," you defend, turning to face forward.

He hums in acknowledgement, obviously not believing your excuse. "Were you thinking about me?"

"You wish."

"I don't have to wish, puppy. You're not a very good liar."

You really weren't. Your tail swished with each beat of this little back and forth. Your ears pinned back to your head, folded over by the guilt of being caught. Everything you were feeling was made apparent by your supposed 'gifts.'

"Well whatever. Even if I was, it's none of your business," you say. A smile pulls at your lips. Your tells weren't solely from your mutation.

"If you say so," he taunts, one last jab before he returns his attention to the kids he was supposed to be supervising.

Nothing he said hinted at anything more than playful banter, but the way he spoke had them wrapped around your heart like unbreakable restraints. The way he said them made you feel like he wanted it this way. Wanted you to hear that smug cadence in your mind for the next few days. Maybe he found you entertaining. Maybe your emotions were a new game he discovered he liked to play with.

Hours later, you're curled up in your bed, by yourself as per usual. Everyone in the school had gone to bed, you and Logan had parted a while ago yourselves. 

Sleep weighs you down to the mattress, but your ears perk up automatically when they register a distant sound of distress. It's faint. If it happened alone, you would've just assumed it was part of your dream and not done anything else. But more follow it.

Your eyes crack open, still glazed with drowsiness as you come to. You listen for the sounds that disturbed you. For a moment, there's nothing. Just the gentle breeze outside your room and the crickets chirping in the cut grass in the yard.

Then it happens again. A normal person wouldn't be able to hear these sounds. They were reserved for you with your enhanced senses. It sounds like grunting and groaning though you can pick up the pained undertone of fear. The worst part of it to you is that immediately you know it's coming from Logan.

You swing your legs over the side of the bed, freeing them from the fleece warmth of your blankets. Padding out of the room, you cross the hall to his. You open the door in the specific way so that it doesn't creak and then shut it behind you. Your feet are gentle on the hardwood as they bring you closer to the source of the noise.

Once you're in, it's no mystery. Logan lays on his back in the center of his bed, shoulders twitching in agitation. He mumbles to himself, different words you can't make out. Your head cocks at the sight.

Approaching the side of his bed, you just watch him for a few more moments. When he doesn't wake up, you feel the urge to intervene. It felt wrong watching him suffer. Something pulled at your insides to help him.

You reach out and nudge his bicep. There's no effect. You do it a few more times but still nothing happens. Finally, you actually grip his shoulder and shake him gently, whispering into the darkness a simple "Logan."

That wakes him. No mistake about it. He gasps and snaps up. His claws come out from his hands without a second thought and slash at you. You hop back right away, tripping over your own feet and crashing onto the ground.

Your pulse thunders in your ears. The adrenaline coursing through you wasn't so much out of fear but rather confusion. Your mind was still a bit bogged by sleep itself, and at this moment, you're less concerned with Logan's reasoning and more so the logistics of a potential fight with him. Even though you had been training for the past several months, you had absolutely zero belief that you'd be able to beat him in a fight. Or even really compete for that matter.

Fortunately for you, it doesn't come to that. His eyes recognize you not long after his fists took the swing. You watch as his face morphs into a handful of different emotions in the span of about five seconds.

"I- what- how- I didn't-" he starts before getting a handle on his ability to speak, "I'm sorry."

Your body starts to come down from the brief high when it's clear he's not going to attack. You feel less wound up and let out a sigh. Your eyes remain inquisitive while gazing at him though. What did he dream about that made him freak out like that?

You guess it's not the best time to ask, so instead of pushing your luck, you push up off the ground and get your footing back. You step up to him at the edge of the bed and stand between his thighs. You plan on asking him if he's ok, but his arms reach out and yank you to his chest before you have the chance.

His hold is tight on you. The little half-hugs he'd given you a couple times before didn't compare at all. His arms were locked around you like they never intended to let go. You could hear him panting in your ear, and you could feel his heart thundering against both of your rib cages like it wanted to be released from its chamber.

"You're not hurt, are you?" he whispers.

You shake your head and wrap your arms around him too. The gesture relaxes him a lot, you can feel the tension seep away.

"Are you ok? I didn't mean to bother you, you just sounded like you needed help," you say at the same volume.

"You didn't bother me. I'm ok. I'm sorry. You don't have to worry about me like that."

His skin is warm and clammy against your own. You gently pat his back as some form of silent reassurance. Even if he wasn't as distraught as he had been a few minutes ago, you could tell the events that occurred were gnawing at him.

One of your hands drifts up, and you thread your fingers in his hair. It's like pulling a lever. He exhales deeply and pushes his face more against your neck.

"I'm sorry, pup," he murmurs.

You nuzzle the side of his head, and your heart nearly stops because he reciprocates this gesture with a few of the softest kisses you've ever felt, placed on your throat.

"I'd never hurt you on purpose. You know that."

You nod. Of course you knew that. And you would never say this to him out loud, but you felt so deeply for him, you weren't sure that your perception of him would have changed had his claws landed the strike on you.

Pulling back your head a little, you nudge his so you can see him. Both of your eyes connect for a moment before you lean in and kiss him. His lips are softer than you'd expected. His scent permeates your senses, but it's not one of booze or the brand of cigars he smokes. That's there, but your nostrils sense deeper. You could smell his essence. The way his blood runs hot as your tongue swipes into his mouth.

The kiss grows deeper. No words are said. Neither of you need them. Your fingers tighten on the dark locks of brown hair, and you climb into his lap. His hands land on your hips almost instantaneously. The only sounds between the two of you are sharp exhales and shallow inhales.

"What are you doing, bub?" he murmurs against your lips, breaking the silence. Despite his questions, he wasn't stopping you. Not at all. His fingers dig into your flesh and pull you a little closer.

"Wanna make you feel better. And show you that I know."

You weren't sure what you and Logan were after that night. Boyfriend-girlfriend, friends with benefits, or maybe simple companions. You didn't really care because regardless of the answer, you were happy.

Kissing was the only thing that transpired that night, but that was ok with you. It didn't dampen your outlook on your relationship with him in the slightest. You'd made out for a while, tangling up with each other and the sheets before he pulled back. He didn't want to go further when you both were coming down from all that emotion. And you agreed. You didn't need more. You felt elated from receiving that much affection in the first place. Your tail whacked against the mattress as you curled up to his side and put your head on his sternum to rest.

The next morning though, he had been ready for more. Once he fell back asleep, his dreams had been much more pleasant. He woke up stiff and aching for you, and you were more than happy to provide some relief.

You alleviated that throbbing between his legs multiple times that morning, and you'd been taking care of it at least once a day every day since then.

The team could tell something was going on between the two of you, a deeper bond than your initial affinity for Logan. You walked with a faster wag in your tail, and he seemed less jagged at the edges. Others were less likely to get cut now if they reached for him the wrong way.

Each of your steps also came with a small jingle now since Logan had given you his dog tags. You'd been lying against his side, basking in the afterglow of one of your escapades when he dangled the metal chain between the two of you.

"Want you to have these, pup," he rasped.

You'd looked at him with curiosity swimming in your eyes. Excitement mingled there too though.

He chuckled at the look before boosting your head so he could put them on you. 

"I know my pretty puppy doesn't want to wear a collar for me yet," he teased, getting a pout out of you, "I just want you to have something of mine. You don't even have to wear 'em if you don't want to."

You'd worn them every moment since he gave them to you. Wouldn't take them off for anything. The physical representation of your attachment stayed secured around your neck at all times. The way it made you feel had you thinking a collar would be a pretty nice next step.

It'd been just over a month since you became something more with him. Your tail zips back and forth as you clean up the training room, thinking all of this over. A little smile rests on your features too. Jean helps out nearby, laughing gently at your mood.

"You have it bad," she teases.

Your head turns, and you grin, exposing those elongated canines. Shrugging, you prance over to help her finish the area she was tidying up.

When the two of you get everything back into shape, you head out into the sleek hallway back towards the main part of the mansion. Your shoes squeak against the tile as you bound towards the doors.

Entering the primary floor from the rooms below always brought a bit of adjustment for your eyes. The lights downstairs shone bright, fluorescent white. Coming back to the soft lamps of the common rooms had you blinking while your pupils scanned the room for Logan.

You catch sight of him standing near the two large doors that acted as entrance to the school. Right now, you can only see him from behind, but you spot Charles next to him. It looks like they're talking to someone, though the former's bulky frame prevents you from seeing who.

Your legs carry you over to the pair. You come up on the side of Logan that Charles doesn't occupy. Tucking yourself under his arm, you look up at him first before your eyes land on the other person speaking.

The sight of her makes your head tilt to the side just the slightest. Every feature on her embodies beauty. Her red hair, similar to Jean's in color, sits slicked back on her head. Deep blue coats every inch of her body. Seductive yellow eyes flit between the two men she's conversing with, and now that you had appeared, they cast to you as well.

You'd seen her before around the mansion once or twice, and you didn't really trust her. She didn't seem like a bad person, but she worked opposite the team. Even though Logan had assured you she was just offering some information about a common goal, you didn't feel confident that Mystique's motives were of such pure intent.

Still, you don't interrupt the in-progress discussion. You stay quietly pressed to Logan's side, tail coasting against the back of his leg. He doesn't wrap his arm around you as tight as normal or rub between your ears like he often did, but he gives you a little pat on the shoulder to acknowledge your presence.

Mystique finishes listening to Charles' point before directing her full attention to you.

"I knew you all wore uniforms, but you two didn't tell me your team had a little mascot too."

You bristle at the comment but try to remain composed. You were better than a thoughtless animal that snapped at a little poke. Charles hadn't even noticed your presence. He looks over at you and realizes what Mystique's quip referred to. He introduces you briefly.

"She's new to the team and is still training, but she's not a mascot," he concludes.

"So more like a stray then? Cute. I never would have guessed you wanted a pet," she says to Logan.

Tension creeps up your spine, and you stand up straight, pulling away from Logan's side.

"I'm not his pet," you huff and look at her. Your pouty way of asserting yourself probably didn't do much to project the image of independence you wanted. "I'm-"

You go to continue, but she cuts you off.

"You really should teach your dog not to bark, Logan. It's not polite."

That sparks a small growl in your throat before you can shut it down. Her eyes widen in amusement which only makes it feel worse for you. The most humiliating part is that you know all of this is inauthentic. She's doing it for the purpose of riling you up, getting you upset and making you feel bad. You know this, but your reaction gets the better of you.

Before you can do anything regrettable, Logan's hand curls over your shoulder. He keeps you rooted where you stand, quelling the flames of conflict before they have a chance to spread.

"Back off," he says, quick and curt with Mystique. He turns to Charles next, still keeping his voice firm. "You don't need me to hear the rest of this. I think I'll let you wrap it up."

Charles nods, knowing it would be better for him to focus on removing you from the potentially volatile situation instead of being another observer for some intel.

Logan guides you away from them, hand moving from your shoulder to the back of your neck as he takes you upstairs. The anger inside you melts away with the growing distance between you and Mystique. Only the stain of embarrassment remained.

"I'm sorry," you say. Your words sound compressed, the weight of your shame hanging off them.

"Don't be. You didn't do anything wrong. She wanted you to get upset, so that's what she got."

The pair of you move through the rest of the hall without another word. You go into your room. Once the door is shut and it's just the two of you between the four walls, you stomp over to the bed and flop down onto the mattress.

Darkness clouds your vision while your face rests against the blankets. Your tail rests against your thigh limply. You hear him coming over and then feel his hand rubbing your leg near the lifeless appendage. The mattress dips as he sits next to you.

"C'mon. You're ok."

You shuffle around so your head is resting in his lap. "I looked pathetic."

He sighs. One of his hands rubs your back while the other pets your head. "You did not."

"Yeah I did."

"No. You didn't," he says, "You didn't do anything that bad. No one's gonna think less of you cause you got a little mad about someone talking shit to you."

You know he's right. Everyone here had an experience like that. It's how most of them ended up here, reacting even worse than you had. It still doesn't make you feel any less dumb. A deep exhale seeps from your lungs.

"I just don't understand why everyone looks at me like that. We all get it bad enough from humans, but then some of the others look down on me too. I'm the same as all of you. I don't say Mystique looks like a smurf cause she's blue, so I don't see why I have to get called a pet," you huff.

He smiles a little and scratches your ear, letting you vent.

"Even you guys looked at me different at first. I know you did. I'm not the only mutant with physical stuff. Why does it have to be a whole thing with me?"

"You're just a little different, bub. You confuse people, but it's not your fault. Nothing about you is less than any other mutant. Mystique doesn't even think that. She was trying to get under your skin."

"Yeah..." you say with a little dejection in your tone, "I still just wish people would treat me like normal. Or at least normal for a mutant."

"I know you do, baby," he hums and pats your arm.

By this point, you're far enough away from the harshness of what happened downstairs. You sit up and scoot closer to him crawling into his lap. He wraps his thick arms around you and rubs your back.

"There's my girl," he murmurs and pecks your temple.

You nuzzle him like a puppy seeking more affection from its owner. Your backside rests on his lap, your arms snug around his abdomen.

"I'm just curious though, pup. What's the big thing with being called dog? It's not that different than puppy," he says, a hint of caution in his voice. He figured now was as good a time as any to ask. He knew it was the main part of what Mystique said that set you off.

You don't react with anger or defensiveness which pleases him. Instead, you shrug.

"Cause. Puppy sounds cute. Dog is just so... bleh," you say, "It makes me sound like a gross animal that someone has to wrangle."

His eyebrow rises. You can see the amusement in his eyes, but he successfully kills his laugh before it leaves his throat.

"Mmm. Makes sense. Can't have anyone thinking you're gross."

"Exactly," you say and kiss his cheek, "You get it. I just... I don't wanna be your pet, I wanna be yours."

You breathe out the words and push yourself closer on his lap. He appeases your desire for less space and pulls you to his chest.

"You are mine. You don't have to worry about that," he says.

"And I still wanna be your little puppy."

He chuckles. His head ducks down to your neck to lay a few kisses there. One of his palms drifts down to gently knead the dough of your ass.

"You also are my little puppy. My little puppy that follows me everywhere. Mine to hold and love on. Mine to play with. Mine to deal with when she gets bratty."

The last word comes out teasing and brings a happy sound out of you. "I wasn't being bratty before. She started it," you say, playing along.

"Hmmm, you're right. Maybe fussy's a better word," he mutters and nips at the soft flesh of your neck.

"Nuh uh. I was being totally normal," you say and nudge at his face with your nose, getting a little squirmy on his lap.

He responds by flipping you over onto your back. The mattress creaks with the bout of pressure and a squeal leaves your throat. You can feel his length against your hip, half-hard already from how you had wiggled on his lap.

"Oh please," he says, "Why do you think I brought you up here? I can tell when my pup needs to calm down. And I know just how to do that, don't I?"

You whimper and nod. He grins before returning his lips to your neck. He nips a few love bites onto the delicate area, drawing little whines from you. His hands hold you in place and move with your body's wriggling. He gropes at your hips and waist, paws at your tits, and slides them around to massage your ass.

"Such a good girl. So responsive for me," he coos.

The condescending affection sends a pulse down to your clit, and your hips roll up to meet his. One of your legs hooks around his waist to pull his body closer.

"Logan. Don't tease," you pout.

Your whiny plea doesn't garner any sympathy from him though. He laughs against your neck and pulls back to smirk down at you.

"My little puppy needs to learn some patience. You think if you don't get my dick in seconds that it's teasing," he taunts.

You whine again and press your leg down on him. He doesn't make any move to pull his cock out though. One set of his fingers comes up to your jaw, directing your lips to an angle where his can land on yours. He kisses you nice and deep, swallowing up any bratty urges that were springing around inside your head. His tongue is warm and soft, gentle against yours.

Meanwhile, his freehand does start to slide down below. It travels beneath the waistband of your bottoms. His warm fingers glide over the plush skin of your pelvis and slot between your lower lips to find your swollen nub. He flicks at it, instantly getting a mewl from you.

You can feel his smug smile against your mouth, but you don't have much time to react to it before his middle finger starts swirling around your bud. Your leg releases his body as it squirms with your other on the mattress. You moan into his mouth and boost your hips into his touch, wanting more of that blissful friction.

"Sweet girl," he coos. The words are muffled by your skin, but you could pick those syllables out of any lineup. "That's your favorite spot, isn't it? Always gets you wriggling for me like a little puppy."

"Mhm," you whimper with a faint nod.

Your heels dig into the mattress to give you some leverage to push your hips up so he can tug your pants off. He takes the opportunity and flings them off the bed. With you bare to him like that, he leaves your lips and moves down. He pulls your top off next and smooches between your breasts and over your tummy before landing between your legs.

He kneels on the floor at the edge of the mattress. His hands hook around your thighs and pull you in his direction.

"C'mere, baby. Give me that puppy cunt. Gotta get it all wet, so it can take my cock."

With that, he buries his head between your thighs. You gasp and throw your head back. Your hands fly to his head to grab at the two dark points of hair.

Logan gives his all to the task of pleasuring you. Whether it was his cock or his mouth, you were never getting anything less than his best. That's obvious right now as he eats you out like it's all he has to live for. He laps at your poor little clit before sucking it into his mouth. It gets some good suction from his lips before he pulls away and licks a broad stripe over your cunt.

He prods his tongue at your entrance, pushing the soft appendage against your hole. You whine more, and he feels your heels dig into his back as they had the mattress. Little expletives float from your mouth into the air as you experience such a rush of euphoria.

"Taste so good, pup. So fuckin' sweet," he mumbles. His lips open and close over your pussy, making out with it.

You rock your hips back and forth, essentially humping his face. He groans and only works harder. Your cute reactions only spurred him on. He twists his tongue just how he'd learned you liked and uses the perfect amount of pressure to get you gushing for him. Your arousal begins to coat his chin, his dark facial hair glistening with your wetness.

"Nice and wet. I'm just gonna slide right in, huh baby?"

"Yeah," you pant. Your hips buck when his nose bumps your clit, but he keeps you held in place.

He kisses your clit before dragging his tongue over you anymore. The soft touch pulls a whimper from you. Your brain starts to get all muddled and hazy. The dreamy feeling always took over when he had you like this. He knows it's coming on too. He can tell by the sudden softening of your movements. You're less jerky and more fluid in how you fidget.

"Oh, that's it. I think my pretty puppy's ready for me," he says, voice smooth on your ears.

He wags his tongue over your little bundle of nerves a few more times before standing to undress himself. His shirt comes off first, dropped to the floor with your garments. His pants are next to go, crumpled on the ground and kicked off his ankles.

Crawling back on top of you, his larger figure boxes you in on the soft surface. His cock is fully hard by now, red and angry, leaking desire from the tip. He guides it to your center and rubs it through your soaked folds.

A soft grunt leaves him as your nectar coats his shaft and drips onto his balls a little too. He only slides it against you a couple times, not wanting to waste the stimulation humping when he could be nestled deep inside.

He brings his tip down to your hold and pushes it in. Your walls accept the familiar intrusion and he groans at the comfort of your velvet walls contracting around him. He pushes his length in all the way until he bottoms out.

Then, adjusting himself and gripping at your hips, he starts to thrust. The motions start as gentle rocks. Taps of his pelvis against your ass. You flutter around him. Moans leak from you, and he smiles at the obvious pleasure coursing through your body.

He fucks you deep, just how you always asked for it. You weren't concerned with whining for harder and deeper right now. This was enough. The feeling of his cock buried in you soothed you like nothing else. Your eyes roll back and puffs of air come from your nostrils.

"Fuck, honey. Feels like I can barely last with you," he grumbles.

"Can't even think when I'm with you," you babble.

Your arms come up to pull him closer, and he lets you. He presses his body into yours, in-turn, shoving his cock as far into you as physically possible. You cry out with the pressure. It was the best kind. Deep and satisfying. To the point that you can feel it in your tummy every time his belly pushes on yours.

"You may not be my dog, baby, but one day you're gonna be my perfect breeding bitch," he grunts.

Your jaw goes slack, eyes drooping with lust. Your head tilts back and he leans into yours more.

"Gonna have you full of me forever. Always gonna be mine."

You can't even respond. Your mind isn't coming up with any coherent response. All you can do is whimper and whine like the needy pup that you are.

"This is what you need sometimes, puppy. Need me to stretch you out on my cock. Get all those thoughts out of your head. Cause puppies don't have to think. Not when you have someone like me taking care of you."

Your thighs start quivering, a sign you were reaching your peak. He knows this and drills into you harder. His balls slap against you every time he pistons his hips. His heated skin rubs against yours. He occupies all your senses, overloading you with him.

"Logan... gotta... gonna cum," you whine.

"Then cum for me," he mumbles simply, "Cum all over my cock, and I'll be right behind you."

You nod. Your back arches up. It takes you a little more, but when you get there, you crash into the throes of release. A sharp yelp bursts from you. Your feet kick a little and your legs press against his sides in an attempt to shut him out.

You get so fucking tight when you cum. Your hole clenches around him, calling out to him to spill every drop of his seed inside your wanting orifice. He growls and drops his head in your neck. He feels it building between his hips. The pressure grows until he can't take it anymore. It snaps and the flood gates open.

He bites at your neck, not hard enough to break the skin but with enough need to leave a little mark. Hot, sticky cum shoots out of him in thick ropes. Warmth fills your insides and you feel like you're sinking into the mattress below you. Both of you are panting with the intensity of the high.

You've already come down by the time he's starting to. After he nuts, Logan tends to get a little sappy. His arms pull you in tighter and he pecks at your neck a few times more muttering something unintelligible about his baby puppy.

"So what do you think?" you ask and twirl into the room, showing off your new outfit.

It matched his. Black leather snug on your body, lined with the same gold on the seams of Logan's. The bold X that shown on his belt could be found on the zipper of your top, dangling against your chest.

He smiles at you, standing from the bed to walk over and get a better view.

"Looks pretty good," he says upon approaching, "Seems a little tight though. You got room for your tail in that thing?"

You laugh at his joke and spin around again, showing the back where the suit had accommodated for your tail to poke through. It whips back and forth before you turn to him again.

"Just perfect for you then," he says and pulls you close, patting your ass and kissing your forehead, "Look at you. An official member of the team."

You nod and struggle not to bounce all around the room with the excitement vibrating through your cells.

"We're gonna be like so totally cool together," you say.

"Yeah. Totally," he imitates affectionately. He cups your jaw, watching your cheeks squish in and your lips puff out. Leaning down, he puts his mouth on yours in a soft kiss. "You're gonna do great."

The words come out as a whisper against your lips. One of your canines slips over your bottom lip as you take it between your teeth. But the display of timidity only lasts a second.

"I know," you beam.

Locking your fingers around his palm, you drag him to the door and out into the hall. Your arm makes his swing as he walks along behind you. He rolls his eyes lovingly at your confident display, but he can't keep his gaze off your happy self. He lets you pull him without resistance.

Now it would be his turn to follow you.