#where does their regeneration end?

[incangencence]

ooc: Woke up with So Many Thoughts on the Fifteenth Doctor… and I am TRULY at war with myself about whether or not I wanna wade into fandom discourse…

I don’t…

But WOW, what a fascinating and beautiful knot the production team has created for themselves…

[rystiel]

doctor who is like: here is david tennant as the doctor, now before we get rid of him we’re going to have 2 doctors at once, then proceed to give david!doctor to a beloved companion for them to adopt into their family

[evermarch]

“like the geese, we really did mate for life.”

an interesting thing about the sotr epilogue is that, despite its placement in the early years post-war, where haymitch would be in his mid-40s, it feels like it’s set at the end of his life. his tone is reflective. he speaks often in past tense. he talks about lenore dove coming to him, and he uses her language, saying that he’s not sure he’ll be in the “old therebefore” much longer. how his liver’s destroyed and he’s not sobering up, even if he’s not drinking for the same reasons.

but this is the same book where we saw one poor little girl transformed into another. the same series where skin grafts grow easily in a lab. where “genetic manipulation” class is part of the core curriculum before university. where mutts with practically supernatural abilities are designed at will. where the capitol populace has a notable substance abuse problem. in my mind, there’s no way transplanting a liver, a regenerating organ, particularly in a district whose new industry is medicine, isn’t possible.

so, to me, haymitch isn’t near the end of his life unless he chooses not to pursue a future. which he very well could. as he says, “when my time comes, it comes, but i’ve no idea when that will be.” but i think there’s a lot of evidence that he would choose to stick around. or at least, to try. namely, his lenore dove telling him he can’t go to her yet. because he needs to look after his family. and geese, for one thing, have an average life span of 10, 15, 20 years.

whether haymitch is or is not at the end of his life, i think it’s clear that he has not and does not intend to marry or have children beyond katniss and peeta. but i think the wording of the line which best establishes that is notable. “lenore dove likes it best [in the meadow], and I’m content where she’s content. like the geese, we really did mate for life.”

when he reflects on the life he’s already lived, he uses past tense. when he talks about his life now, on his reasons for sticking around with katniss and peeta, haymitch uses present tense. lenore dove exists in both places. throughout the epilogue, she exists in the present. she grows older with him. so i think it’s interesting that haymitch uses past tense tense for this one line. “we really did mate for life.”

that’s not to say that haymitch ever “moves on,” because that’s a false characterization of people who lose their loves in the first place. however, i think this line is past tense because it makes this question, like the rest of haymitch’s life, ambiguous. it also opens up discussion on what “mating for life” means. it’s a statement which implies exclusivity, but i don’t think necessitates it. because it’s not true that geese mate for life. they mate until one dies, after which the surviving goose mourns and then finds a new partner.

there’s room for a version of haymitch, who lives many years past the epilogue, who finds romantic attachment again.

if he does, he would not be replacing lenore dove. he would not be disgracing their romance or defiling their love. and 16 year old haymitch, believing he’s about to die, caught in the throes of the exploding tank and grief over ampert’s death, knew it, too. he was “furious” with himself that he didn’t tell lenore dove to “move on” from his death, because he was terrified of her living out her life haunted by his death. even while he desperately clung to her as he faced his imminent end, he was hoping she’d go on without him.

to love someone like all-fire is to love them enough to let them be free to go on after death. and that’s how haymitch loves lenore dove. and that’s how lenore dove loves him, too, because she is his goose. except haymitch has never been free to go on. the life haymitch was terrified for lenore dove to live is exactly the life he does live. from the end of the book, we know that he is doomed to repeat the 16th year of his life over and over again for 25 years. there’s no reprieve until katniss and peeta come into the picture.

yet, the epilogue’s tone is entirely different. it’s melancholy, but hopeful. he is no longer the 16 year old boy living in a repeating cycle of his own tragedy. when he next revisits it, it’s on his own terms. from that point on haymitch is finally allowed to grow up. to live a life in the “after.” to truly enter his mourning period. for someone new to join him in this new life would not mean he leaves behind lenore dove, or that she’s no longer his mate. because we know lenore dove stays with him, and will continue to stay with him, always.

and it’s likely that anyone with whom he finds comfort in his remaining years would carry someone with them, too. there’s no shortage of people who lost their loves in panem, whether from the war or before. there’s no shortage of people who would understand that his love likes it in the meadow. because maybe theirs tells stories around the fireplace in a creaky house in the seam. or fashions snares in the woods around district 12.

maybe 5, 10, 15 years in the future, when his geese are all grown up and two new goslings hatch, he’ll be an example of a different kind of love. of how new love is not a dilution of the love that was lost. of how lost love never dies, even as life goes on. of how love is not finite.

regardless of whether haymitch finds something resembling romantic love again, i am at least comforted by the thought that his end is much more peaceful than we dreamed it could be. because he has a family again. and because lenore dove is with him, too. and, no matter how long it takes for him to leave the old therebefore, she’s waiting for him in the next world.

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

aw man am i gonna have to wait out the rest of the season to find a satisfying ending for this

i can easily give 13 some wrong-way flashbacks. i mean premonitions are just remembering in the wrong direction right. bigeneration side effects, lets not get bogged down in the order of things

[the-meme-monarch]

"that's Astro for you! always going through phases! haha, but I'm stagnant, stuck in the middle of the universe."

my sibling and i wanted to make a sun character that we liked <:] we just never found one that clicked with us. he's a show-only character bc he'd make playing the game too easy even though he'd absolutely have the worst stealth ever. (maybe have some ability to regenerate other players’ health)

the episode is about how astro feels incredibly sidelined with his brother visiting, bc he’s So Much Better And Cooler And Everyone Likes Him, but like ray isn’t even mean about it or anything so it makes astro feel bad for Feeling Bad bc how can he have such negative emotions abt his brother who is So Smart And Nice. so dandy wants to prove astro is just as good at things as ray/has his own things he’s good at that ray isn’t. it doesn’t really work out until the end where astro realizes this for himself, as he’s been offhandedly mentioning things he’s good at all throughout the episode, not that he noticed(like the ‘i can mediate’ line). the moral would be about like. not comparing yourself to others/nobody’s perfect/you have your own uniqueness/etc

ray’s biggest flaw is he doesn't remember people’s names. literally the only person who’s name he remembers is astro’s. he gets around this by immediately giving people friendly nicknames. where as astro Does remember everyone’s names and also knows a lot About them/what they like, partially bc of his dream magic but also he’s The Listener

[yellowjestertfs]

Spare Parts

Al untucked his shirt, then tucked it in again, then quickly untucked it before landing on a French tuck—a mix of both that suited him worse than either. He had never been so nervous about going out with his friends. In the past, he was the life of the party, staying out clubbing until the witching hours, getting drunk, and ending up in some stranger's bed the next morning. That was before he made the fatal mistake of jaywalking drunk and got hit by a bus, which flung him into the path of another bus, which sent him off a bridge and into the water, where he was run over by a boat. Honestly, it would have been a pretty comical way to die—only he didn’t die. He should have died; he broke every bone in his body and turned his organs into a smoothie. The wonders of modern medicine intervened. He still didn’t quite understand exactly how, but the doctors had used stem cells, like those regenerating cells babies have, to essentially bring him back from the dead. A miracle, yes, but even miracles had their limits. The recovery process was long and hard, and even now, recently released from medical custody, he was not the same man he’d been before the accident.

Getting hit by two buses and a boat does that to you. His face was mangled—not to the point of being monstrous, but not attractive either. His body had also suffered from the accident, practically wasting away as he recovered. While the old Al partied with abandon, this new Al was self-conscious of his appearance and absolutely terrified to cross the street. Now, he stood at the crosswalk, fidgeting with his short-sleeve button-down shirt, thinking about why he had asked an old lady to help him across. He clutched her tightly as they crossed, ready to throw her in the way if a bus came barreling toward them—luckily for both of them, none did. Despite her age and his current condition, the woman actually made a pass at him, calling him a “handsome lad” and asking if he wanted to go back to her place. It helped his confidence, if only a little, and gave him a strange tingling feeling.

Finally, after detaching himself from the woman, he reached the club. Despite the relatively early hour, the place was bumping; the bass-boosted electronic music and a flashing rainbow could be seen and heard from the outside. A quick check of his phone informed him that his friends were already inside, so he joined the short line and waited to be let in by the bouncer. As he neared the front, he realized he recognized the bouncer. Back when he frequented this place, he was friendly with the muscular man. Now, though, he doubted the man would recognize him, and he honestly hoped to keep it that way. Back then, he was sort of a legend, a position he doubted he could live up to now. As the bouncer—Rod, he thought—waved him forward, Al couldn’t help but admire the man's physique. It seemed that while Al recovered, Rod made some serious gains. His arms were particularly impressive; Al found himself feeling bad for the man’s sleeves as they tried and failed to contain his massive arms. Their sheer size was only enhanced by the web of veins that patterned the muscles. 

“ID, please,” Rod said, indeed not recognizing Al as he had predicted. Al handed over his card, suddenly realizing the picture on the ID was pre-accident.

“Had a bit of a glow-down,” Al said awkwardly, trying to flash a smile but only managing to lift one side of his mouth—the other’s nerve endings were damaged beyond repair. Rod grunted but returned Al’s ID; even despite the discrepancies in the photo, there was little doubt that Al was of age. As Rod handed back his ID, their hands touched just slightly, and for a second, Al felt a slight tingling in his upper arms. Then it was gone as quickly as it came. 

“Have fun, man,” Rod said, “and nice guns.” Al laughed at that, thinking the man was making fun of his twig arms.

He lifted his arm, expecting the usual sight of his scrawny limb. But when his gaze landed on it, his breath caught. His bicep had swollen under the skin, somehow in the span of a heartbeat his twig arms had become tree trunks. Al’s fingers traced the now firm, rounded muscle, a mix of fear and fascination flooding his mind. The sheer size and hardness of his new bicep felt both alien and irresistibly satisfying, a forbidden thrill coursing through his veins at his arms meaty massive things they now were. They looked like almost exact copies of Rod’s, only instead of the man's olive complexion, the biceps had the pale look of someone who had spent the last two years in a hospital bed.

Al felt light-headed. How was this possible? Was he having some sort of mental breakdown, a delusion? He needed to find his friends. No, he needed to find a drink. The bar was right where he remembered—just to the left of the entrance. Unlike Rod, the bouncer, he didn’t recognize the bartender—a short, slightly pudgy man who looked to be in his mid-40s, with a strong square cleft chin that didn’t particularly match the rest of his average features. Al walked up to him, trying to hide his now-massive arms to little avail. He found he couldn’t stop flexing and feeling them, equal parts concerned and turned on by the mysterious new muscles.

“I'll take a vodka soda,” Al tried to say casually, although the words came out more as a question than a request. Luckily, the night was still young enough that he managed to get the man's attention, although the fact that he wasn’t a pretty girl kept him from making small talk. As he worked, Al saw the bartender occasionally glance up at his biceps, which he had crossed in an attempt to hide them. They looked a little ridiculous with the rest of his scrawny body. Wordlessly, the bartender placed a garnish on the drink before handing it to Al. Just as with Rod, their hands innocently touched, and again Al felt a strange tingle, this time centering on his chin. Lifting the glass to his lips, Al quickly lowered it, uneasy at how strange the sensation felt. Years of drinking had made him familiar with the feel of a glass against his lips, but something felt off now. His bottom lip somehow felt more supported, stiffer. A quick exploration with his finger revealed that his chin was causing the offense. But that couldn’t be—his chin had been round and soft even before the accident. Whatever this new chin that had somehow attached itself to his face was, it felt like a block of stone, the bone protruding in a harsh, strong way completely foreign to his face. The deep cleft was also new, creating a valley in the mountain that was his chin. Pulling out his phone, he saw what his fingers had felt: his face now somehow sported a strong, masculine chin almost identical to that of the bartender.

Al wasn’t the brightest, but even he began to put the pieces together. Somehow, he was absorbing the best qualities of every person he touched. His mind raced, trying to figure out what could be causing this. The stem cells he received might be the explanation, but why now? Al needed to get out; he needed to see a doctor. Panicked, he looked for the exit only to find a crowd had congregated between the bar and the nearest door. There was no way he could make it to the other side without touching anyone. Could he risk it? 

His contemplation was cut short as a woman sauntered up to the bar, her stumbling gait indicating she was already a few drinks deep. That was hardly the most noticeable thing about her; put bluntly, she had massive boobs—the type that could never fit in a top without being the center of attention. As she stumbled her way toward the bar, she tripped on one of her own feet. Al’s eyes widened as he realized too late that her fall would take her directly toward him. He tried to move out of the way, but as she fell, her arms reached forward for support, landing on his own. For a brief second, he hoped he might absorb her winning smile, but judging by the tingling in his chest, he wasn’t so lucky. Horrified, he glanced down, expecting to see breasts pushing out of his shirt. Instead, he found different mounds there—equally large, yes, but the lumps on his chest weren’t boobs; they were too firm and square. No, instead Al had somehow gained massive pectoral muscles from his contact with the woman. Their growth had unceremoniously demolished the first three buttons of his shirt, which was having a bad day trying to contain his massive chest and arms. The muscles looked downright strange on his body, the rest of it still emaciated from the accident. In fact, Al struggled to support the weight of his new mass, his shrimpy legs and shoulders straining under the sudden load.

The woman pulled away from his arms, drunkenly apologizing before reaching out to grope one of his now-massive pecs. Luckily, no tingles followed, confirming Al’s suspicion that he could only absorb from a person once. Now, Al felt torn about what to do. On one hand, he still worried about the changes and their possible repercussions, but did he want them to stop? If he went to the doctor now and they fixed him, would he be stuck in his current disproportionate form forever? This could be a blessing—a way to heal from the damage caused by the accident, to become the ultimate version of himself—or rather, of the people around him. So far, none of the changes had been bad. Deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth, Al scanned the room for someone with a feature he wanted to absorb. The choice became easier when a cute guy walked right past him, his clothing tight on his lean, muscular body, and he looked well-groomed. Before the accident—in fact, before tonight—Al had never paid much attention to the appearance of other men. Maybe it was the fact that he now saw their features as ones he could have, or perhaps it was something else, but for whatever reason, he found himself checking out the other men in the club, including the one walking by. On instinct, he stuck his foot out, tripping the man, their bare ankles making contact for a second in the process. The man stumbled and then turned to face Al, his face red with anger, which quickly cooled as he took in Al.

“Hey, I like your hair, dude,” he said. Al had hoped that he might absorb the guy's cute, tight ass or maybe his strong Roman nose, but his hair worked too. It was silky, thick, and coiffed attractively—definitely an improvement over his current thinning hair.

“Thanks, man,” Al said, reaching up to find that he indeed had hair identical to the man he had just tripped. 

“Do you go to Clarice?” the guy asked. The question sparked a brief conversation in which Al lied through his teeth, pretending they went to the same barber rather than admitting that he thought his stem cells had magically copied the guy's hairstyle to a tee. Eventually, Al excused himself, claiming he had seen his friends. This was true; as they chatted, Al had located his friends huddled close to the DJ booth on the dance floor. Steeling himself, he made his way over to them, trying to avoid physical contact. His efforts were only somewhat successful. An accidental brush of a college-age girl’s hand lengthened his eyelashes, while a hip bump into a man with rolled-up sleeves thickened his forearms, so his arms were now somewhat proportional. Once he reached the dance floor, however, he lost total control. Falling arms and thrusting hips assaulted him from all sides. An accidental step on a foot caused his lips to buzz as if they had momentarily fallen asleep, puffing up to appear pillowy and soft. A hand brushed across his back, causing a tingle in his shoulders, widening them and only making his progress more difficult. The elbow wedged awkwardly into the crevice of his pecs by a sheepish-looking man earned him a short, coarse beard across his jaw—a jaw that had become wider and sharper thanks to the impatient shoving of a male model behind him. Al quickly lost track of exactly what features he had gained from whom. A sudden numbness in different parts of his body was the only indication that he continued to change. At one point, a gigantic man who had to be some sort of pro basketball player moved next to Al. Al indulged himself, letting his hand “accidentally” rub against the tall man's leg and feeling his whole body lengthen. The constant shifting of the dance floor meant no one noticed Al or the way his features shifted. As he neared his friends, a twink dressed only in a leather harness and thong approached him and started to grind up against him. Even more shocking was the rock-hard abs that formed from their contact and the boner that Al inexplicably developed from the experience. The twink started to unbutton the last few remaining buttons on his shirt, and he let him, not wanting to deprive the world of his body.

At last, Al reached his friends, finally finding a pocket of relative emptiness near the loudspeakers. 

Al reached out to tap one of his friends on the arm before thinking better of it and just stood there awkwardly, waiting for them to notice him. Eventually, the song ended, and his three friends turned to face him. Only with a pang of shock did Al realize they didn’t recognize him. How could they? He had become a sort of Frankenstein’s monster of different features from the various patrons of the club. Where they expected their scrawny, balding friend fresh out of an extensive hospital stay, instead before them stood a 6’5” bodybuilder with a face, a hodgepodge of features from various people, somehow working together to give him a handsome and exotic look.

“Hey, have you seen our friend? Short, skinny, looks like he might have been hit by a bus or two,” his friend Jordan asked. It was a simple question, but for maybe the first time in two years, Al noticed not a trace of pity in his friend's voice. No, rather it was admiration. Al’s previous intentions of coming clean to his friends and seeking help melted away as he realized the opportunity he had. He could finally escape the shadow of those busses; he could have a new start.

“Nope, haven’t seen anyone like that,” he said in a voice much richer and deeper thanks to the vocal cords of some unknown stranger. 

“I’m Jordan, by the way,” his friend said, raising his voice to be heard over the music. 

“Al.” Shit. So much for a fresh start. Jordan glanced at his other two friends but didn’t say anything. Instead, one of his other friends, Sergio, grabbed Al’s hand and pulled him into their dance circle. The contact made his whole body tingle and, glancing down, he saw that his skin had darkened to the same ruddy tan as his friend's. Luckily, the flashing lights and the general darkness of the club made Al fairly sure no one noticed the transformation.

Throughout the night, he became reacquainted with his own friends and found innocent ways of making contact with each of them. From his friend Marge, he gained her show-stopping ass, the muscular butt complementing the thick thighs he had gained sometime during his mad rush. Contact with Linsey copied her perfect Barbie blonde hair. The stylish haircut and scruff he had grown sometime during the night bleached itself instantly while all his body hair, limited as it was by various tingles, turned the same gold color. His friend Jordan took a special interest in the new Al, and Al found himself reciprocating the attention, for the first time noticing just how hot his friend was. When at long last they touched, Al grabbed the man and brought him into a passionate kiss. He swore he felt tingles but couldn’t notice any change on his body. After long hours of sweaty dancing, a round of shots, and many more kisses between the two former friends, the group headed over to Jordan's apartment. Al nearly blew his cover by heading straight to his friend's door, but the excuse of “lucky guess” seemed to satisfy his non-sober companions. After a few more hours of chatting and more alcohol, everyone left but Al and Jordan.

Jordan used the classic “let me show you something in the bedroom” line, which led to more kissing and Jordan feeling up Al’s new muscular body. Eventually, as both men removed their pants, Al discovered what he had picked up from his friend. Long and thick, Al’s penis was identical to that of his lover, which Jordan seemed delighted by, claiming he had never been with someone with a tool as big as his. It took a moment for Al to get over the surprise of his friend packing so much meat and the fact that he now did as well, but once he accepted it, he used his new member to the fullest. After hours of fucking, the two fell asleep, not waking up until the afternoon the next day. Al politely said his goodbyes and awkwardly avoided giving Jordan his number, not wanting to explain why it was the same number as Jordan's sickly friend. 

Exiting the apartment, he noticed the same elderly woman from last night and to his chagrin, she once again hit on him, asking to hold his bicep while they crossed the street. When he touched her, he felt no tingles, which he thought strange until he remembered she was the first person to induce that sensation upon him last night. Could it be that he had somehow absorbed her sex drive or sexuality? Was that why he had a sudden appreciation for men? The thought amused him as he made his way to his car. But before he could dwell on it too much, his attention was abruptly pulled back to the present.

Lost in thought, he didn’t see the bus careening down the street, heading right for him. The blare of the horn hit him a second too late, and everything went black.

The next thing Al knew, he was waking up in a hospital—a horrifying déjà vu of two years ago. A young doctor stood over him, clipboard clutched in two massive, masculine hands. His eyes fluttered as he tried to make sense of his surroundings, the cold sterility of the hospital room bringing back memories of his long, painful recovery. Blearily, Al glanced down at himself. His perfect, hunky form was now a mess—bones broken, muscles flattened. All except his hands, which looked larger and callused, suspiciously identical to the doctor standing above him. It seemed that Al’s luck with public transportation hadn’t changed, but now he knew how to build himself back up. A minor setback, sure, but nothing a few spare parts wouldn’t fix.

Wrote this a while ago but thought i would post it here with images and some small edits. Not my best but think its still a fun story.

[mimimigan]

Spideypoolverine Headcanons

Because I have an obsession

Also some of these might be slightly Deadpool and Wolverine (movie) specific

•Both Logan and Wade call Peter 'Petey' (or Petey-Pie sometimes in Wade's case) (Logan called Jean Jeannie in the comics so. He would def call Peter Petey)

•Peter and Wade can both safely sleep next to Logan despite his claws coming out sometimes (Wade because he can regenerate obviously and Peter because his spider sense works even in his sleep)

•Logan is slightly more successful than Wade at getting Peter to sleep/eat/rest properly. Mostly because Logan won't take no for answer and will try to wrestle the guy into taking a nap (even though Peter is stronger sometimes he just relents and lets Logan win)

•Speaking of Peter being stronger, it took Logan forever to realize this, (Post DP&W) especially since Peter pulls his punches while fighting. Logan could tell he was really fast and agile so he thought that was the main reason Spidey did so well. So the first time Spidey got buried by some rubble, Logan panics. He thinks there's no way Spidey isn't horribly injured. Probably goes a little crazy and gets a little too violent, ending whatever conflict it was before Spidey can unbury himself from the rubble. He is definitely not super clingy afterwards.

•Logan doesn't fully grasp how strong Spidey is until he like, catches a car going 60 mph or something. He does get an inkling of it though when Peter picks him up and carries him around like he weighs nothing. Wade can also pick Logan up too. He does not like that they can do this. He secretly enjoys it a lot.

•Wade and Logan are, of course, very protective of their mortal squishy boyfriend. This does mean that they jump in front of attacks that he would easily dodge with his Spider sense. Peter does not like this.

•Peter also does not like their wanton violence to each other. Especially since he's the one who usually cleans up the blood. But he really just doesn't enjoy either of them being injured. Even though he knows they will heal, it still bothers him.

•Logan and Wade fight over who gets to patch up Peter when he gets injured enough to need stitches, bandanging up, etc. both claiming they are better at it. In reality it doesn't matter which of them does it, as long as Peter doesn't do it himself, as he sucks at it.

•Logan loves that Peter and Wade are both yappers. He likes that at least one of them is probably talking, if not both of them talking rapidly together. He likes the noise even if he isn't listening, though he usually is.

•Wade is, of course, physically clingy. He's almost always touching one if not both of them. Holding their hand, his hand on their thigh, playing with their hair, pulling them to sit on his lap or sitting on their lap, etc. It becomes infectious to where the three of them are just constantly touching if they're home, probably still holding hands or in close proximity out in public.

•Peter takes many pictures of the other two, most of them candid. Pictures of Logan sleeping on the recliner like an old man, of Wade mid-laughing, of the two of them wrestling, etc.

•Wade is the money-maker, Logan cooks, and Peter keeps their place clean.

•Wade is the most classically 'romantic'. Buying flowers and gifts for the other two, planning fun dates, writing silly love notes, etc. He doesn't really care if he receives things in return, though of course he appreciates it, he just likes to give them things.

•It really bothers Peter how both of them are in chronic pain (which is borderline canon for both Wolvie and DP) and that they both struggle with mental health issues (PTSD for Logan and the voices along with other things for Wade) and tries to find ways to help them since he's smart enough to. Even if it's little things like heated blankets or specially formulated lotions, icy hot, etc. I imagine he would spend a lot of time trying to make them feel better, including trying to develop drugs that actually work with their healing factors.

I could keep going because I think about these three way too often but I'll end it here. Maybe I'll make another post later about more headcanons I have hahah.

[reidsworld]

The Time We Have

Summary: Logan struggles with the fear of dying and leaving Laura alone, but meeting you helps him find peace. Set in an AU where Logan does not die at the end of Logan (2017).

Paring: Logan Howlett x Fem!Mutant!Reader

Category: Angst, Fluff

Content Warnings: Talks of death.

Word Count: 1.4k

Mars speaks… gif is from pinterest!

Masterlist

Logan’s knuckles ache, the bones beneath his skin creaking with every movement as if they’re finally giving in to the wear of time. It’s a pain that never quite leaves him anymore, a constant reminder that his body is failing him, betraying him in ways he never thought possible. He’s lived more lifetimes than most, fought more battles than he can count, and somehow, it’s this—this slow, inevitable decay—that feels like the cruelest blow of all.

He’s not afraid of dying. That’s never been something that scared him. He’s seen it too many times, come too close to it on too many occasions, to feel anything other than a resigned acceptance when he thinks about the end. But this… this slow, agonising decline is something different. It’s not the swift, clean death he always imagined for himself, the kind that comes in battle, in the heat of the moment. No, this is something that eats away at him bit by bit, until there’s nothing left but a shadow of the man he used to be.

And that scares him. Not the dying part—he’s made his peace with that—but the idea of leaving Laura alone in a world that’s anything but kind. He’s fought so hard to keep her safe, to give her a chance at a life he never thought he’d have to walk away from before it was time. The thought of her being alone, without anyone to protect her, has kept him up more nights than he can count.

He doesn’t talk about it. He’s never been one to share what’s on his mind, to let anyone see the cracks beneath the surface. But it’s there, every time he looks in the mirror and sees the new lines on his face, every time his claws take just a little longer to come out, every time he feels the weight of exhaustion settle into his bones.

It’s a bitter realisation, knowing that his time is running out. He doesn’t know how to feel about it, doesn’t know what to do with the knowledge that he’s slowly dying and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. The adamantium that made him unbreakable is now his undoing, poisoning him from the inside out. And there’s no one left to save him, no one who can stop the inevitable.

He’s spent his life fighting, surviving against impossible odds, but this is a battle he knows he can’t win. It’s a fight he’s destined to lose, and it’s not something he’s ever been good at accepting.

And then, he met you.

You came into his life like a breath of fresh air, a light in the darkness that had consumed him for so long. He didn’t want to let you in at first, didn’t want to admit that you could make any kind of difference in the mess that his life had become. But you were persistent, stubborn in that way he’s come to admire, and somehow, without him even realizing it, you slipped past all the walls he’d built up around himself.

You weren’t like anyone he’d ever met. A mutant, yes, but your powers weren’t about brute strength or regeneration. Instead, you had the ability to manipulate energy, to create barriers and shields that could protect those around you. It was a power that reflected who you were—a protector, a guardian. And it was exactly what he and Laura needed. Before he knew it, he found himself drawn to you in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time.

It was Laura who first noticed the change in him, the way he seemed lighter somehow, less burdened by the weight of the world. She’d always been perceptive, too smart for her own good, and she didn’t hesitate to call him out on it.

“You’re different,” she said one day, her eyes narrowing as she watched him. “You’re… happier.”

Logan had grunted in response, not wanting to admit that she was right. He wasn’t used to being happy, wasn’t used to feeling anything other than anger or pain. But with you, it was different. You didn’t change his purpose; you just made the burden lighter, made it easier to carry on knowing you were by his side.

But you didn’t push him. You let him come to terms with it on his own, never demanding more than he was willing to give. You were patient, understanding in a way that made him feel like he could finally breathe, like he didn’t have to be on guard all the time.

And slowly, without even realising it, Logan found himself accepting the inevitable. He was dying—there was no denying that. But for the first time, it didn’t feel like a death sentence. It felt like… closure. Like maybe he could finally find peace, knowing that he wasn’t leaving Laura alone, that you’d be there, that you’d spend the rest of your life with him.

One night, as you lay curled up against him on the couch, your head resting on his chest, he found himself speaking the words that had been weighing on his mind for so long.

“I’m not gonna be around forever,” he said quietly, his voice rough with the weight of the truth. “I’m dying, and there’s nothin’ I can do to stop it.”

You didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. Instead, you lifted your head to look at him, your eyes full of understanding and love. “I know,” you said softly, your voice steady. “But you’re here now, and that’s all that matters.”

He let out a slow breath, the tension in his chest easing just a little. “I’m scared,” he admitted, the words coming out before he could stop them. “I’m not used to this… to not knowin’ what’s gonna happen. To not bein’ able to fight back.”

Your hand moved to cup his cheek, your touch gentle and reassuring. “You don’t have to be strong all the time, Logan,” you said, your voice full of warmth. “It’s okay to be scared. But you’re not alone in this. Laura and I… we’re here for you, for as long as you need us.”

He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat making it difficult to speak. “I don’t know how much time I have left,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But whatever time I do have… I’m glad I get to spend it with you.”

You smiled, a soft, loving smile that made his heart ache with something he couldn’t quite name. “Me too,” you said simply, as if there was no question, no doubt in your mind.

And in that moment, Logan felt something shift inside him. The fear, the uncertainty that had been gnawing at him for so long, began to fade. It didn’t disappear completely—he knew it never would—but it didn’t seem as overwhelming anymore. Because he wasn’t alone. He had you, and he had Laura. And that was enough.

He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you as if he could hold on to this moment forever. You settled against him, your body fitting perfectly against his, and he pressed a kiss to your hair, breathing in the scent of you—something that had become so familiar, so comforting.

And then he thought about Laura, about the future he’d once feared she’d face alone. But now… now he had hope. You were by his side, and together, you could give Laura the life she deserved. She’d have you to guide her, to be there when he was gone. And maybe, just maybe, she’d have a sibling to watch over her when both of you were long gone.

For the first time in a long time, Logan felt like he could finally accept what was happening to him. He was dying—there was no escaping that. But it didn’t feel like the end. It felt like… a beginning. A chance to live the life he’d never thought he’d have, with you by his side.

And when the time came, when the poison inside him finally took its toll, he knew he wouldn’t be alone. He’d have you, and he’d have Laura. And that was more than he’d ever hoped for.

So, he closed his eyes, letting the warmth of your presence wash over him, and for the first time in his long, tumultuous life, Logan felt at peace.

Mars speaks… (again) Thank you for reading, any and all feedback is always appreciated🫶

[kyokutsu-sama]

Headcanons

"How they apologize after an argument"

A/n: I remember of writing some headcanons with the same topic for the Bleach captains but now I'm going to write the same topic for Black Clover captains. I'm so in love with them❤️

_____________________________

Yami:

Yami can be all brute and intimidating but he also recognizes when he messes up and regrets it, especially when he knows he hurt you in some way.

Sometimes he is stubborn and this becomes an obstacle for both of you when you're trying to solve something, he wants to be the master of reason just because he's the captain and thinks he can do things alone. This makes you believe that he's being arrogant, putting you aside like that.

(But the fact is that he actually just tried to protect you so that you wouldn't do anything that would put you in danger)

"Baby, please don't overreact, I'm just--" "Don't talk to me until you change your attitude" You replied, walking past him without even looking at his face

He starts to realize that you're taking the silent treatment too seriously and starts doing all kinds of things to get your attention, which don't lead to anything.

He thinks you're thinking about breaking up with him and this makes him drink twice as much, which leads him to arrive at the hq more drunk than usual.

You start to realize this and you start to worry too, even if you don't admit it.

On one of those nights he arrives at the hq very drunk and sees you in the living room and hugs you from behind, staying like that for a moment while you feel his heavy sighs against the crook of your neck.

"I'm sorry if I was hard on you, I just want to protect you. Please don't give me the silent treatment, it breaks my little heart" He whispered against your ear and you sighed before turning to face him "I accept your apology, you dramatic" You slapped his chest and smiled

This man was much more relieved after you forgave him. It was as if his little heart regenerated.

Fuegoleon:

I'm sure if you two argued Mereoleona would take action and beat him up because she's on your side🤭

Sometimes Fuegoleon is too serious and too strict, more than he should be and that stresses you out.

"I'm not going to have this conversation with you again, do as you wish" You left his office, angry "Y/n, wait, I just--" He got up from the chair but you slammed the door

He doesn't want to lose you nor does he want to see you upset with him but he also doesn't want to put pressure on you.

"Mereoleona is gonna kill me if she finds out about this" His first thought

He then calms down and choose to give you space, however, he always wants to know how you are and that's why he orders the servants to deliver flowers to you and also order that the meals be taken to your room.

You recognized that all that princess treatment was Fuegoleon's work to apologize.

However, one day he went to the room where you had been sleeping these days and sat on the mattress next to you and try sorted things out.

"Honey, I'm sorry if I spoke that way. It's been so much that sometimes I don't even know how to separate my personal self from my professional self and with that I ended up hurting you"He confessed with his head down but you hugged him "It's okay, love, we all make mistakes. I accept your apology and thank you for the flowers, by the way" You thanked him and he smiled hugging you

The captain of the Crimson Lions felt much better and promised you and himself that he would change.

William :

Seriously, I don't see how there could be an argument with this man because he's so cute and so gentle.Aghhh...I want a man like him now😫

But if by chance you and him disagree about something and it gets serious, It will be very difficult for him to deal with the situation.

"William, I'm sorry but this matter is going too far" You left the room "Y/n, come here, please listen..." William went to the door but you closed it and he sighed, feeling helpless

He refuses to see you walk past him and not talk to him, he refuses to see you doing your life and not being able to be by your side. It's as if you two became strangers and that touches his heart.

Even if you didn't want to clarify things yet, he uses his magic to create beautiful bouquets of flowers and leave them on your bedroom door, just like the captain above. You can't hold back your smile at the cute action every morning when you come across the flowers right at your feet

One day, you were at the bedroom window watching the group of the magic knights of the golden dawn enter through the front door and William also accompanied them. It had been a while since you two spoke, but you just wanted him to walk through the bedroom door so you two could talk.

And to your surprise, he did.

"Y/n, I came here to resolve things between us, I can't be without you. Please forgive me if I said something I shouldn't have said" He confessed with his melancholy eyes fixed on yours "Oh William, I forgive you. Come here" You hugged him giving in to his bright eyes and how cute he looked

You couldn't stay upset with him and neither could he with you. Everything was fine now and William was grateful to have you back just like you.

Nozel :

The way he spends his life idolizing the name of the Silvas and royalty is sometimes tiring for you. One day you have a conversation that goes a little sideways because he's being too proud again.

"You know what? Stay there with your pride and your fucking royalty. I lost my appetite" You threw your napkin on the table and hurriedly left the dining room "Y/n, come back to the table, we're not done" Nozel got up but you ignored him

Nozel knows he went too far, he wasn't supposed to be like this and sometimes he found himself being too proud which led to some arguments.

However, he knew he couldn't act like that towards you because he loved you too much and didn't want to keep you away from him. In response to this, he told all the servants to watch over you and to give you expensive gifts that he bought.

You couldn't help but smile at his actions. The fact that he sent someone to look after you and gave you valuable things made you think it was cute of him.

Yes, he was overprotective, even if he didn't admit it to anyone but himself. However, you could see that through his actions and there was nothing he could do to hide it from you.

You were sitting in the living room by the fireplace and he came into the room looking at you and you at him. There was a certain tension in the air at that moment.

"We need to talk, I... I think it's time we sort this out" He confessed but you didn't say anything until he got to the part that you wanted to hear. "I want to apologize, I know I let my pride speak too loud and that hurt you"He said and you smiled, seeing that he got to exactly the part you wanted "My dear Noble, I accept your apology but control your pride. Doesn't suit royalty" You used his usual words and he raised an eyebrow at you

Nozel promised to do so, so that situations like those wouldn't happen again.

[singleactionjack]

Just some MH theory shit but

(MH WILDS SPOILERS)

Anybody feeling like the Dragontorch is probably an even bigger monster that we haven't been fully privy to? Like, it feels like a reasonable approach to handle the lore and plot that has been built up so far. Hear me out. I'm calling this the Wyrm Mother theory

So on the one hand, we have Zoh Shia (and the black dragons in the greater MH lore). Zoh seems to be an artificial black dragon made by Wyveria as a tool of war/protection? I feel a lot of fans have looked at Zoh as both a canonization of the Equal Dragon Weapon from the old MH concept art book as well as implicit justification of Fatalis' role in the series.

Fatalis' in some flavor text is said to hate humanity, showing a level of intelligence and hostility to humans unseen in other monsters. It's nature and local is as shrouded as the ancient civilization that has been lost to time. It's such a dangerous creature that killing it doesn't kill it; that crafting gear from it risks you turning into one, or weapons continuing to grow and regenerate.

Something a lot of us have thought is that the ancient civilization lore from the art books is why Fatalis seems to hate humanity; that they committed acts of atrocity on monsterkind. The scrapped lore seemed to suggest mankind slaughtered countless dragons to build their towers into the heavens. The EDW being an idea of them even turning corpses of dragons into living weapons that they had control over.

Fast forward to Modern Day, Zoh Shia (and the other guardians) seem to be a clear reimagining of these concepts. Guardians are sterile, artificial monsters that exist to protect Wyveria, even long after Wyveria fell. A textual affront to nature, creatures with no reproduction systems and underdeveloped organs who exist as tools for mankind. Monster Hunter as a series has strayed from high fantasy since its beginning, and the idea that a powerful dragon would be disgusted by affronts to nature like that seems like a reasonable justification. Especially Zoh Shia.

Zoh Shia seems to be even more of an affront that the other guardians. Where the others appear to be flat recreations of preexisting monsters, Zoh seems to be a contained amalgamation of the anatomy and abilities of several black dragons. It visually has moves from SafiJiva, Alatreon, Shara Ishvalda and Gaismagorm. But it also has directly ripped abilities from all 3 known Fatalis subspecies, having Fatalis' fire breath, Crimson Fatalis' leaping lava, and White Fatalis' dragon lighting. It seems to be a sort of Swiss army elder that imitates Fatalis, even sharing similar body parts (like eyes). They say that Wyveria fell, not from the impending threat of war, but from their own creation.

BUT

On the other hand, all of the guardians and Zoh Shia are connected by one factor. A factor that seems to reach throughout the entire region.

Wyvern Milk ( or Wylk) is present in some form throughout basically the entire gameworld. Springing up and crystalizing in places all over. In the end of the low rank story, you find out that the Dragontorch, this source of seemingly endless energy, rests beneath Wyveria, and it feeds energy (and wylk) throughout the entire region. Their cycle of seasons, thriving ecosystems, all of it, are all directly fueled by the Dragontorch.

Why does that matter? I'm convinced we may be in store for an even bigger threat in Wyveria.

Recently I saw someone on YouTube point out the oddness of the titles you unlock from beating 20 Zoh Shia:

Specifically, it unlocks Savior, Promise, and Innocent. While Savior makes sense with what we have so far (possibly being the Savior of Wyveria by design), Promise and Innocent seem strange. Promise to who? And innocence, how? The story so far seems to suggest Zoh Shia was syphoning off energy from the Dragontorch, which was negatively effecting the lands around. How is that innocent?

My first thought is...when else is it natural to drink the milk? When you are an innocent child drinking from your mother.

I looked at the games Logo, and noticed some potential symbolism:

The logo shows 6 dragons, four in circles on the side, but two wrapped around each other in the middle. Notably, one is white and solid, while the other is sort of hollow and drawn with only outlines, with its mouth closed. All are connected with solid white to the two center dragons.

I think that the four side dragons represent the cycles of the four main biomes, Desert, Jungle, Tundra, and Volcano, with their circles of life reflected in wrapping circular dragons. Drawing something (I think Wylk) from the dragons at the center. But the two dragons in the center I think are more important.

I think they represent the guardians (and more specifically Zoh Shia) and the Dragontorch. The all white dragon, mouth open, reflects the guardians, specifically Zoh and Arkveld, intertwined with Wylk but opening their mouths to return to what nature intended (To eat for Arkveld, to bellow it's flame for Zoh, and to behave as monsters do for the rest of the guardians).

In contrast, the hollow dragon facing downward represents the Dragontorch, pointed deep below the land. It's essence milked dry into the nearby lands, leaving it empty. But this begs another question: why would it be depicted as a dragon?

I think the game may be building up to a reveal that the Dragontorch is the true atrocity that led to Wyveria's destruction, to Fatalis' hatred of humanity. I think the Dragontorch may be an actual dragon, likely an elder dragon (or black dragon of its own), that was somehow confined by the ancient civilization and syphoned off of to create the infrastructure and resources that Wyveria used to grow in power.

The true reimagining of the ancient civilization concepts, whose entire land rests and thrives on the exploitation of an elder dragon, guarded by facsimiles of nature, destined to destroy themselves in hubris. This is where Zoh Shia comes in again.

The game says Zoh was Wyveria's secret weapon in case of war, but that it brought them to the brink of destruction. And after this calamity, it nestled itself into the Dragontorch to "syphon" energy, leading to chaos in the present. But perhaps that's not what it's doing? What if it's not malicious?

What if, in the Wylk, in this lifeblood, it (along side other guardians) Zoh Shia was being given it's agency back? Just as Arkveld gained it's predation back, and as all other guardians seem to fight each other if through instinct? What if Zoh was given it's agency and it fought back against Wyveria?

Or even more compelling, what if it brought the kingdom down to protect something? What if, this "promise" was to protect the Dragontorch?

I think the team making it Wyvern "Milk" and not essence or blood is intentional. Maybe, upon it's creation, as an artificial black dragon, unstable and chaotic, it was steeped in Wylk, and became aware? A beast now seeing itself be used by mankind, sure, but also seeing how they use the Dragontorch as well. And it fights back, returning to the Dragontorch.

I think perhaps Zoh wasn't drawing power away from the Dragontorch, but instead was consolidating it's power, keeping it present and concentrated. Perhaps the Dragontorch isn't endless, perhaps it is like Fatalis, able to regenerate slowly over time. And Zoh doing what it did prevented the Forbidden Lands from draining the Dragontorch completely.

Maybe that's Zoh's "promise". And its innocence is like any other's; trying to protect its mother. A mother powerful enough to power an entire nation, it resting on her back, but not powerful enough to free herself from bondage. It brought down a kingdom in its hubris, returned to the Dragontorch.

In the same way Arkveld was an extinct species, brought back to life as a puppet who cut their own strings, removed their own chains.

Zoh Shia was a black dragon, made in the image of mankind's devils. Then, it was coddled, fed on mother's milk, dressed in white. It went to stop those hurting its mother, and when done?

It returned, nestled in Wylk. Cradled in it's mother's arms, promising to protect it from mankind. Devil no more, mommy's little angel draped in white wings.

[tinfoil-jones]

Jerk Ford AU: Rumour Mill

Jerk Ford's only confirmed ally in the multiverse is the Anti-Ford. Any further rumours that they are friends, or that he has other allies that can considered friends, are nothing but unfounded nonsense.

The individuals named in these rumours include:

S, the Archivist from The Great Archive had been investigating Jerk Ford after he infected a different galactic archive, one belonging to a textile company, with a virus that changed every third noun to the word "d*ck", as retribution for the company continuing to email him ten years after he'd bought a coat from them. Jerk Ford may or may not have thrown him off of a roof, and there might have been a following rooftop chase, but nothing came from that. This incident happened around fifteen years after Jerk Ford fell through his portal.

[People who know him as Samuel

People who know him as ???

Imagine "the boiled one"]

"Watchdog" Ford-419"3 also known by a myriad of nicknames by Jerk Ford such as "John McClane", "Clearance Rack Jason Todd" and "The Ford Punisher" had considered killing Jerk Ford once, around twenty years after Jerk Ford fell through his portal, but Watchdog had more important tasks at hand than entertaining some mostly-harmless cosmic nuisance.

[Jerk Ford is the figure on the left and Watchdog Ford is the figure on the right]

Their dynamic of mutual disrespect never changed.

Further rumours about all four of these men (?) regularly meeting up at O'Sadleys to drink together is also nonsense.

[S: 'Oh my God, he's gonna kill me'

Watchdog Ford: *does not care*

Watchdog Ford: 'Oh my God, he's gonna kill me.'

S: *does not care*]

An oddly specific story has cropped up about S being an alien shapeshifter who was forced into a smaller, infantile form after an incident at said bar, where he then had to be taken care of like a baby by Watchdog Ford's brother Lee-77/H. And he reportedly stayed that way until Jerk Ford, who is an absolute lightweight who can get trashed after two beers, recovered and could formulate a regeneration cure.

[Jerk Ford and Anti Ford: *Drunk*

S: This is not how you hold an infant-

Watchdog Ford: Help us.]

And while all of this was happening, Watchdog Ford had to take S's place at The Great Archive where all of the other Archivists assumed he was just S going through another identity crisis and taking a different human form.

And the Anti-Ford was babysitting the drunk and/or hungover Jerk Ford, swearing that he would never let him drink another Long Island Iced Tea ever again.

This story is so outlandish, especially the ending where S is still treated like a child by Lee who goes so far as to make him bug-themed lunches with cute little notes, that truly it can't be believed by anyone with an iota of sense.

[Kids bento]

It's important you do yourself a favour and don't believe everything you hear.

[Art and S The Archivist by @tearosepedall]

[Watchdog Ford and Lee-77/H by @nowimjustastranger]

[robiniswriting]

the thirteenth doctor’s regeneration does not get the credit it deserves. despite knowing that she’s losing herself, she doesn’t run from it like ten or twelve. she doesn’t hide the terrifying truth of what will happen and how exactly she might change from the companion she loves like nine or eleven. she doesn’t remain in the TARDIS, her true home and safe haven, where everything is familiar, like all the rest choose to do, despite knowing their regeneration energy will likely damage their beloved ship.

instead, she holds off just long enough to have ice cream with the woman she loves. to give her companion a goodbye, a real goodbye, something none of the doctors before her had managed to do for any of the others that came before. she finds a cliff with a stunning yet unfamiliar sunset, and faces the end of her story — her new beginning, the unknown — with a quip and smile.

in the end, I think she was truly the bravest of them all.

[kalpeavaris]

I see you've got a bunch of fankids, do you have any Jessa fankids?

Oh anon, indeed I have! Well, not kids, but one kid!

May I present you - Jecka! Whoever guesses where that name comes from, I'll love you.

Jecka's appearance is more humanoid than most Workers or Disassembly Drones which comes from Tessa's biodata instilled in her code. She's extremely experimental, coming from a Solver User and a former human.

More below the cut!

In my headcanon/Synemy universe, Tessa - despite her Dronebody - still has biological code and DNA inscribed in her own OS, which got inevitable transferred to their child when the uploading process took place.

It took 5 tries to actually get this to work as Tessa's code just was hardly compatible with J's, which strained her alot - even her physical body and being was acting like it rejected the Disassembly Drone. But in the end, the final attempt was actually successful!

Although this experimental hybrid of J & Tessa didn't come with downsides. Jecka's code is very unstable, often resulting in her shutting down involuntarily and having to be rebooted by Uzi to keep her running.

Jecka's daredevil personality appears very brutish on the surface, but similar to Becky (who appears shallow and gossip-y) there's more to her if you know her. She's gotten alot of empathic and extroverted traits from Tessa, is easily exciteable and loves to be around people.

She cares alot for people's well-being, but will put herself first if she needs to. A friend you can rely on and a foe you need to watch out for. Jecka gets along with Becky fairly well but Angel and her sometimes do butt heads. Especially since Angel isn't really fond of Jecka's ability to magnetically draw in conflicts with people she doesn't really like. And Jecka can hold grudges until the end of time, lol. That she got from J.

Like Tessa she has Solver symbols on her body, although more focused on her legs and back (not pictured here). Jecka doesn't mind them and finds them somewhat cool. I mean, it does look cool. BD Can't blame her.

She cannot use the Solver like for example Uzi and Tessa can, but she has the passive abilities of the Disassembly Drones (regeneration, not being affected by the Solver's telepathy etc.)

[plumipal]

Omg who is she?

She’s so pretty.

She has twice the wings Eden has. Idk what that means but it probably means something.

Also her name being Lilith… guys I’m sensing pattern here. Are you keeping another one named Adam locked in the basement?

Is she maybe his sister? I mean you can’t just drop a new bit of lore and run away. Explain yourself. Please? Pretty please with a cherry and cream on top? It would be much appreciated and desperately looked forward to.

Little side note who hurt my boy Eden in the second picture? Was it Lilith? If so her likability just dropped of dramatically.

Chat, meet Edens... Sister.

HER NAME IS LILITH!!!

So to even start this off, they are NOT human (I know, shocker). They're children of the stars, serving to protect and help the stars shine as bright as they do. Becasue of defects on both of them (the extra parts near their star core, making them unstable), they were cast out of the colony, cursed to wander the endless galaxies.

I know no one has wondered why Eden has a huge scar on his back or why he even got into the twst universe in the beginning, BUT LET ME TELL YOU ALL! It's her fault.

After a childish spat where it ended with Eden reaching for his weapon to strike her, she instead grabbed for hers and beat the ever living shir our of him, sending him flying to hopefully kill him. This resulted in him reaching the atmosphere of the twst world, crashing down (like a fallen star) into ramshackle around a week before the prefect arrived.

He was passed out for a week, motionless untill y/n, grim and crowley discover him in a vacant room in ramshackle, waking him up and tending to his wound.

So yeah this blond little bitch is the reason we have Eden in the twstverse mmm...

A look at the weapons, they both serve to be protection incase the star they serve gets attacked. The little vacant spot on the spear is for the core to be put in, aka their little star in their chest, the source of their power.

They can take it out, the spear acting as a magicpen sorta to help with their "magic" and being able to direction it. Don't take the core too far away from them tho, it serves as someone cutting off oxygen or blood flow ro us, easy kill on them.

Lilith has a few more wings on hers than a normal one does, just like her defect. This was becasue of a power imbalance, leading to her absorbing way too much power compared to the others during her creation, leading to her being very dangerous (basically a ticking timebomb).

Also a look again on Edens scar that Lilith caused. She foes not feel sorry for that, nor does she feel sorry for burning half of edens face off (first panel whre he is badly damaged, don't worry he will regenerate quickly).

You may also notice her wings being lighter, and that is becasue of their "purity" of other magical influences. Edens darkened quickly during his first week in twst, the blot around him forcing its way into the pigment. This also depends on how easily they adapt with other living beings, with Eden easily being able to copy and show humane emotions.

The love and devotion he feels for you is something he felt similar to his creator while he served the star, that love however turning more dark and twisted because of him copying the environment around him (aka the other twst men into you lol). He is also very heavily inspired by a raven, whish is why he has this "copying easily" ability.

Meanwhile Lilith is meant to resemble more of a dove, elegant and beautiful. Will she be romanceable? We will see...

One thing to make clear,

EDEN FUCKING HATES HER GUTS!! DO NOT PUT THEM IN THE SAME ROOM ONE OF THEM WILL DIE-

Thank you for coming to my Eden Ted talk I will be here all week.

[howtofightwrite]

So I have a character that heals faster than normal. Nothing like Wolverine, where he basically gets stabbed and although it hurts, he keeps rolling because he'll heal in 5 seconds. Or even Deadpool who can regrow limbs. My character would heal way slowlier. Where maybe a wound that would take someone a week to recover from would take them a day.

But my problem is that, determining the speed of the healing process in comparison to the wounds. Someone like Wolverine and Deadpool have their healing abilities cranked up to a 10, which makes it easier to write imo. When mine is dialed up to a 4 or 5, how do I determine the healing speed and keep it consistent with each wound, even if they're all different from each other? Especially with deadly wounds. I hope that makes sense.

It's not that Wolverine and Deadpool's regenerative abilities are, “cranked up to 10,” those operate strictly under, “the power of plot compels thee!” There's nothing inherently wrong with that approach, but it can cause problems down the line. (At this point, it's functionally impossible to kill Wolverine because he's been shown to be able to regenerate from any surviving tissue. Which does make it a little harder to hold him up as being in significant peril.)

So, really, the question becomes, “how fast do you want your character to heal?” “What can they recover from?” And, “how realistic do you want to be?”

In a lot of cases, you can look up projected medical recovery times from injuries. This is usually calculated around a healthy adult (18-35), and will increase as you get older. Or as other health factors slow your ability to heal.

It's pretty easy to take wound recovery estimates and just divide them by a fixed value. So, for example, recovery from a minor gunshot wound is estimated at a few weeks, so if your character heals 7 times faster than a normal human, then they'd be back up and going in a few days. If you want, you can pretty much stop there.

This practice of looking up how long it takes to recover from a given injury will also apply to a lot of those mortal wounds. It doesn't matter how horrific the injury is, someone has probably lived through it.

The question of what they can recover from is a little more involved.

On one end, you have the normal limitations of a character who can only recover from injuries they'd be able to naturally heal from. While in other cases (like broken bones or severed tendons) they'd still need significant medical attention, even if the resulting recovery times would be dramatically reduced. On the other end, you might have a situation where these kinds of injuries can self correct with minimal assistance from your character (and no, formal, medical assistance.)

Then there's the question of being able to regenerate lost limbs. That is biologically possible, and in fact young children can regrow lost digits, though the ability to do so genetically shuts off as we age.

At the same time, humans cannot heal off nerve or spinal damage. Again, this is biologically possible, but the ability is genetically shut down. (In this case, it's theorized because scarring on the nerves could result in horrific issues down the line.)

Ironically, one of Wolverine's more plausible powers is his biological immortality. If his healing factor regenerates his telomeres (which, again, is quite possible. In the real world, some cancer cells exhibit this behavior already), then that would mean that he is not subject to the Hayflick limit. The Hayflick limit is the number of times an individual cell in your body can undergo mitosis, and once it's expended, when the cell dies, it cannot be replaced. In a very real sense, the Hayflick limit, and telomere shortening are what causes biological aging. Regenerating the telomeres would mean that a cell could, potentially, undergo mitosis an indefinite number of times. So, if a character's regenerative abilities do prevent telomere shortening, it's likely that they would be biologically immortal.

If your character's regenerative abilities can restore brain damage fast enough, it might also be impossible for your character to die from bloodloss. So, this probably needs a little more explanation. Bleeding to death is, really, just suffocation with extra steps. Blood is critical for getting oxygen to the brain, and when your cardiovascular system can't do so (for example, because someone's punched too many holes in it) then your brain asphyxiates and dies. With a fast enough healing factor, your character would literally immune to death from bloodloss. (And, you'd probably need to tap them in the head to kill them.)

How fast does that regeneration need to be? I'm honestly not sure. Brain death tends to occur within a few minutes of lack of oxygen to the brain.

This also creates a related potential outcome, depending on whether or not their regenerative abilities shut down when they died. If their abilities are dependent on them being alive, so killing them is enough, then that's normal. However, if their healing persists after brain death (which can happen, as some autonomic functions can continue after death, at least, for a little while), killing them could easily see them regaining consciousness some time after the lethal injury was inflicted, with most of the damage having been regenerated.

One final consideration (and one that doesn't happen that often with superheroes) is the consideration of how you actually fuel all of this. Regenerating an arm is going to require a lot of energy, and your character's going to need to get that from somewhere. Whether they're literally pulling in power from some fixed source (as with the early Spawn comics), or if they just have an implausibly aggressive appetite for food. They will need to get the energy from somewhere. Again, there isn't really a correct answer here, just an answer that fits the story you want to tell. (A fixed power source, like Spawn's, does give you a lot of room to have healing at the speed of plot while still maintaining tension. Or, at least it did, until the countdown was removed.) Of course, if they do run out of energy to fuel their healing ability, that probably means it will fall off, though it could potentially kill them in the process.

One legitimate concern over running out of juice would be scurvy like symptoms, which causes previously healed wounds to reopen. It's pretty horrifying, but might be a way to inject some serious tension into the story, if you've set up the rules to support it.

-Starke

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[am-i-interrupting]

Reacting to You Hurt

For @aliceneedsphalis

Alastor

Hell is an awful place and you’re used to it at this point. It didn’t bother you when someone tried to jump you and managed to stab you while you got away. What did bother you was the fact that now you were late.

Every week you and Alastor met up sometimes at your place, other times his radio station, occasionally on his bedroom balcony, and every so often you’d venture out to a restaurant.

You met up to catch each other up on the going ons in Overlord business (in his case) and general populace activity (in your case)

You were grumbling to yourself as today you went to his radio tower.

They’d ripped one of your favorite tops because of course they did and now it would be stained!

You were not looking forward to the patching up process and cleaning but hey, it is what it is, right?

You knocked on the door and were let in by a shadow.

Alastor had beginning to get worried. It was unlike you to be late but he felt his worry fade when the knock sounded.

He stood and spun around. Arms extended in welcome. They immediately fell.

His eyes went to dials instantly.

He patches you up quickly and efficiently but his touch is unintentionally harsh before he gets ahold of his anger.

He begins to interrogate you for a description of the person who hurt you and a name of you have it as well as where it happened.

When you insist it’s nothing, his head turns, neck popping at an unnatural angle.

“Nothing? My dear, you’re injured. This is not a mere scratch at that. You’ve been stabbed and contracted or not, you are a soul under my protection. No one messes with what is the radio demon’s.”

Alastor is not above using intimidation tactics to try to get this information.

If he gets it, God can’t save the person who hurt you.

A special broadcast for a sinner who never stood a chance.

He will torture this person for hours on end.

Rosie

You blamed yourself, honestly. This was Hell. The extermination was not that long ago. Turf wars were rampant. You should have stayed home.

The molotov that went off nearby was not at all your fault but you felt like you should have known better than to go out on the streets the day after the extermination ended.

You stayed home until the turf wars died down but you did go home and stay home until they did right after.

For the most part, yeah, it hurt like a bitch but it wasn’t something you couldn’t handle.

The skin would regenerate. The main thing was making sure you didn’t need to regenerate completely.

A couple days later, you managed to work up the energy to go to Cannibal Town.

You opened the doors to Rosie’s Emporium.

“Oh my lord! Sweetheart, what happened?!” “I went out after the extermination, got hit in some crossfire. I was wondering if these clothes were salvageable or am I going to have to plan an order for something new?” “Sit down!” “Yes, ma’am.”

She would redo all your bandages properly, put some top notch cream and ointments on you and send you with some to go home with.

Rosie may want to know who did this so she can go have a very stern chat with them but she cares about you being well more.

She does bring goodie baskets and restocks your entire wardrobe while she temporarily has you on bed rest.

She will fuss over you and you won’t have to lift a single finger because if she’s not there, one of her most trusted cannibals are and they are trusted because they will report back if you’re being stubborn and refusing their help.

She will check up on you every day until you’ve completely regenerated all your skin and you’re good as new.

Vox

When you got caught in the middle of a drug deal gone wrong and your eye got damaged, you did not want the annoyance.

You see, people would think that having your eye merely damaged would be better than having it gone but. . .

Your vision was iffy at best. You would get constant headaches due to the imbalance of vision. (I am not projecting with my imbalanced as hell prescription, fuck off.)

It just was not worth it so you went to a friend and got the entire eye removed.

So instead of a week’s worth of headaches and pain while going about your day to day, you got off with two weeks without an eye until it regenerated. May be twice the time, yes, but a well off trade.

At least, you thought so until you explained this to Vox when you brought him lunch the next day.

“You did what?!”

He was looking at you like you’d done something completely irrational. Claws digging into his desk, eyes wide and spiraling, a snarl curled on his face.

“Okay, okay, okay, let’s start off small? Who did this to you?” “I don’t know, some stranger on the street.” “Some stranger on the—“ *cue maniacal laughing—“okay. Where did this happen?”

You don’t go to work for the next month. Vox makes sure of it.

You are being pampered and holed up in the V Tower. You can’t leave by yourself ever again. He’s getting you a bodyguard.

“No, doll face, I’m not budging on this. You don’t have to talk to them. Hell, you don’t have to interact with them at all but you are not leaving alone.” “You think I don’t know you stalk me?” “Clearly I don’t do it well enough with my attention divided!”—his eyes would spiral before he takes a deep breath and places his hands gently on your shoulders—“I’m not budging so look over the resumes and choose one or I’ll do it for you.”

Yeah, say bye-bye to your privacy, not that you had much anyway but you did use to have the illusion of it. If you’re with the Vs or in one of their buildings, the bodyguard does not have to be with you but somehow they always know when you try to sneak somewhere yourself.

At least you have someone to carry your bags for you when your shopping now.

Vox absolutely checks all of his security footage and finds the people who hurt you.

Let’s just say they don’t regenerate for. . . a long while.