#why do i sound prepubescent

[viscerasmoothie]

First video is over 500mb, so Tumblr is throwing a tantrum about it and not letting me upload it. It got split because my camera app timed out for some reason. Here's the second video, also I have no clue why my voice sounds like that, I'm like 50% sure that I sound a lot less prepubescent irl but idk, if you know me and are on here then please confirm if I sound like a fucking 9 year old or not.

For video ID : M = me (OP), G = my grandma

[Video ID: A video of me shoving a flathead screwdriver into the semi-opened corner of my laptop in a futile attempt to brute force it open. Two blankets are visible in the background, one dark grey and the other multicolor. The sound of a loud fan is in the background. The laptop is upside down.

G: "Oh it must've timed out, right?" (In reference to the fact that the first video ended abruptly)

M: "You might've accidentally hit the home button."

G: No, I've got just my thumbs along the black edge." (referring to my phone case. It's a semi-transparent dark blue, which makes the edges of it look black)

M: "Okay yeah it might've timed out."

[I make a barely audible sigh expressing the emotion I like to call "WHY THE FUCK WONT YOU OPEN AAAAAAA"]

M: "This is absolutely not good for the case." (Two flathead screwdrivers are in the case and have been for a couple seconds, one with semi-transparent yellow handle and a thicker metal part holding the case open, and a thinner one with a semi-transparent red handle being used to try and pry the rest of the case open. In this shot I was working on the left edge (It appears as the right edge due to the laptop being upside down), and my head is in frame because I'm a stupid idiot who can't see what the camera does)

M: "Might be electronic(sic) jammed up the side." (The "(sic)" part is because either my brain wasn't braining or you can't hear me pluralize(? Is that a real word??) the word "electronic". I wasn't having any luck with getting the side opened, which is why I think components might be shoved against it, preventing me from prying the case open)

[frustrated sigh from me as the yellow screwdriver falls/slightly pops out of the case and into my laugh. My grandma laughs at my misfortune]

M: [Might be yawning while saying this idk] "Staring to think we might need the screwdriver for these, [chuckles]" (there's screws that are almost definitely holding the case together, but they're probably proprietary HP screws, AND they're super fucking tiny)

[Another disgruntled sigh from yours truly, who is probably misusing the word "disgruntled"]

M: "No clue where we'd get them though." (in reference to the screwdrivers. I'm now working on the front side of the case)

[Yellow screwdriver falls out again]

G: "Yeah those little tiny screws, are they, attached to something?"

M: "This one isn't-" (In reference to the one near the corner that was propped open)

G: "Oh okay"

M: "-I think"

G: "You sure?"

M: "What do you think? [She laughs] This is coming out."

[camera gets closer to the corner (IT DOES NOT ZOOM, my grandma didn't zoom in cus our phones are different)]

G: "Okay."

M: "This one ke-" [pause to readjust the yellow screwdriver] "This screwdriver keeps popping out."

[some sort of noise??? Idk man]

M: "[inaudible, sounds like "I don't think"] any of this is a fan of anything I'm doing right now."

[no dialogue for a couple of seconds]

M: "I hate proprietary screws."

M: [in a whiney voice] "Open." [brief pause] "Why won't you open."

M: "I don't care that I don't have the wro- the right stuff."

[one final semi-angry sigh]

M: "Yeah no we might need the screws." (Idk why I referred to the screwdriver as screws fuck you. Also can you tell I watch way too much dankpods and the "yeah nah" has rubbed off on me /rhetorical)

G: "Huh?"

M: "We might just need those screws." [grabs phone near the camera cus I'm a big stupid idiot]

G: "Need what screws?"

[Video end]]

Writing out that entire video ID was mentally exhausting LMAO, and it probably sucks ass. Sorry for visually/hearing impaired people who come across this but I'm just dumb. Also two things, if I get doxxed cus of the pride shirt I was wearing I will kms, and don't mind how fucking ugly I am. If you find me attractive then I suggest therapy. /s

[blue-sadie]

Sun Bathing

Neteyam, Lo'ak x Neteyams Best Friend Reader x Aonung, Rotxo

Summary: the boys can get quite annoying hopefully this would keep them away for some time

Warning: the boys are perverts, jerking off, only male pleasure, aged up characters

It wasn't everyday I just got to breathe and relax, but here I am sun bathing in my sport bra and shorts chatting away with tsireya and kiri.

"Don't look now but there's creeps in the bush" kiri stated glancing over her shoulder towards the boys who were kneeling a few meters away whispering away with eachother.

"Should we move" tsireya asked sitting up to look at us, I sighed in disapproval "why should we their the ones being pervs" I muttered only glancing towards the boys who jerk away from sight when they saw that they were caught.

I rolled my eyes 'freaks' I layed my arm over my eyes sheltering them from the burning sun "you might be ok with them watching you but I think me and tsireya are gonna go" kiri said and they both said their goodbyes before leaving.

I let out a relaxed sigh quickly rolling my shoulders and getting comfortable on the warmed sand "look what we have here" aonung laughed bashfully as he and the rest of the boys surrounded me.

I only lifted my arm to look at neteyam "I didn't know you were apart of the common pervs nete" I murmured making him blush and shy away "im not a pervert" he tried sounding confident but his words ended in a slight squeak.

"Well I mean have you seen what you look like" lo'ak clapped and he stared down at me with hungry eyes "now now boys I'm relaxing go jerk off some place else" I shooed them away only making them laugh.

"But your just so sexy sitting here in the sun" aonung bit his lip as he folded his arms over his chest "and you like a prepubescent teen now shoo" I muttered getting annoyed at them disturbing me.

"You can do something for us first sweetcheeks" lo'ak groaned as he grabbed his crotch making aonung and rotxo laugh, I exhaled forcefully and slowly rose to my cheeks.

"Fine but you guys owe my 5 months without chores" I said making the boys howl out in excitement "come on" lo'ak muttered and grabbed my hand pulling me into the forest the others following very closely.

When we came into a clearing far from the village did he finally let me go "are you sure about this yn" neteyam whispered to me his voice full of concern.

"If it gets you guys to leave me alone" I giggled and pulled my top off making his eyes bulge "f-fuck" he stuttered.

Aonung pulled me to a rock and pushed me down on it and they crowed around me, Lo'ak reached out his hand and caressed my cheek.

"Will you guys leave me alone after this" I asked and gasped as aonung grabbed my breasts "well it was a deal wasn't it" he groaned and pitched my nibbles making me moan in pain.

They pulled off my clothes leaving me bare and the gaped at my body and started touching themselves as they said all the things they wanted to do to me.

I started caressing myself teasing them slowly making themselves jerk off faster and groan at my teasing, I dragged my fingertips up and down my body leaving goosebumps along my body.

"C-cuming" "fuck" they cussed as the cam spraying their cum on me, making me gasp, they calmed down and helped me clean up and walk back to the beach.

Let's just say they didn't keep to their end of the deal

[celestialprincesse]

police officer!Simon x detective!reader perhaps..? reader is higher ranked than him

I love love love this dynamic💕 @alwaysshallow writes Ghost and Higher ranked!reader perfectly too! I'd highly recommend reading their stuff on them!

The wind is nothing short of biting as you stand outside the forensics tent, pulling your coat tighter around your shoulders with a huff. Your watch reads 04:17AM, Thursday the 14th of November. Cold and tired. Homicides always come at the worst times. Sirens and blindingly bright blue and red lights only serve to worsen the migraine you can feel clawing up the back of your neck, trying to find purchase within the walls of your skull, already swimming with ugly ideas and images.

"-ed a perimeter." The gruff rumble of Simon 'Ghost' Riley's voice snaps you from your self pitying reverie, his eyes crinkling at the sides in a small, secret smile when you look up at him with bleary, confused eyes, envying the balaclava which covers his face from the nose down. "What?" A wince crinkles your stinging, cold face as your voice cracks like broken radio static. Simon's face softens at your obvious weariness. "You need to stop staying up so late." He chides you like a parent would a child, concern melting his brown eyes into molten brass. It's easy for him to forget that not everyone shares the same military background as him, that most can't go for days with only a few hours of sleep and stay sharp. "I was working on the Makarov case." You huff, running your hands down your face in an attempt to wipe away the lingering tiredness settled there. "I know it's eating at you, but you're no use to anyone when you can barely keep your eyes open." Simon's voice takes on that chastising tone that reminds you of his former military prowess - pre honourable discharge. The thought still makes you sad, fills your chest with warm, sticky pity, choking you up with a lump in your throat.

You stuff your hands into your pockets in a futile attempt to stave off the cold, rumbling out complaints and drawing instinctively closer to your colleague as he parts the crowd of forensic scientists and officers with his presence alone. The officer doesn't hesitate to lay his coat across your shoulders, forever looking out for you, if not just to see the way you relax under the warm weight of his jacket. "Can we go for breakfast after this?" A gentle smile flickers across Simon's face as you plead with him. The strength of your stomach never fails to surprise him, your ability to think about food in the middle of a crime scene eternally entertaining. Truly a person after his own heart. "Course we can."

You're not really sure why you're here, seeing as you only seem to get in the way of forensics gathering evidence as Simon walks you around the scene, detailing what the team knows so far about the crime, leaving you and your tired mind to decipher the rest. Unfortunately, with the lack of caffeine and bacon in your system, all you can do is nod dumbly and try to hide the way you keep yawning. Simon, as always, is ever present at your back, your side, letting you lean into him or mutter about how hungry you are under the pretence of talking about information relating to the crime. He's known you for long enough now to know that trying to get your brain firing at this time in the morning is futile. You work better at night.

Before Simon is given the opportunity to usher you away from the impending crushing of some poor kids' hopes and dreams, one of Graves' wide eyed, freakishly excited mentees is making a beeline your way - not that you notice when you've got your head in your hands and no will to live. The prepubescent sounding screech of their voice makes you wince, drilling a hole in your skull just big enough for the migraine to slip through. "You worked under Laswell right?" They chirp, far too energised for this obscene hour in the morning, and for someone play investigating the scene of a double homicide. "Yup." The dull, tired drone of your voice should be enough indication that you're not feeling talkative, and the look Simon angles them is unwavering enough to make a grown man weep. Not that they seem to notice. Or care. "Isn't this so cool? like a real life, actual homicide? Did you see the bodies? They were so gross."

Simon notices the way you bristle, shoulders at your ears. Despite your grumbling, you have the decency to respect the dead, something that Kate taught you long ago. "One of them had this like-" is enough to send you over the edge, shooting the kid a cruel look as you stand from where you'd been hunched in the back of the police van. "Enough." You growl, and Simon reaches out to place a grounding hand on the small of your back, trying his best to soothe your anger. "Don't be so fucking immature." The sound of your hiss is enough for the trainee to take a nervous step back. "Those are dead people. Those are dead people that were brutally murdered, in their beds at shit o'clock in the morning. Have some respect." You snap before pointing back at Graves with a furious blaze in your tired eyes. "Now go back to your shitty mentor and rifle through some bins."

"I'm impressed." Simon perks up from behind you, waiting with open arms for you to inevitably stumble into, emotionally and physically exhausted. "Breakfast?" You plead again into the plain fabric of his jumper. "Breakfast."

[snakeoilpictures]

The problem with pro-shippers: NSFW child content

Silence is golden but that only pertains to certain cases. The subject of pro-ship vs anti-ship has been a huge manner of debate in fandoms, primarily A03 and A03's subreddit and tumblr community. If you admit to being anti-ship, you're suddenly exiled and considered a pariah to the community and a promoter of cancel culture.

"Let people enjoy things!" "It's not real, it's fictional!" "These characters and actors are our toys to play with" "Disregard all haters, they're the monsters"

Only goes so far in some subjects. There is a fine line drawn when the content involves CSEA that's not told with a negative connotation.

However, pro-shippers do not like being told the difference.

The difference between a negative narrative and a romanticizing narrative. (ie: we as readers and the author know that pedophilia and child pornography is bad. Versus: we as readers and the author enjoy fictional pornography when it involves children and we enjoy writing 10 year olds having sex with other 10 year olds or a 10 year old calling a 40 year old man "daddy" during NSFW acts).

That the characters being fictionalized completely disregards all notions that the author and readers enjoy reading about children in NSFW content. Because it's "fictional".

That if you like watching a cannibal on TV and the fact that you may enjoy a show about a cannibal, it doesn't make you a cannibal because it's fiction. This argument is used on the daily for pro-shippers.

4. Because no children are actually harmed. That may be, but the reader and author are still enjoying content that involves the images of children in NSFW scenarios.

The fact of the matter is that it doesn't matter if the children are fictionalized or not, but no pro-shipper is going to agree because the characters in themselves are considered "toys" they can play with. (Don't get me started on how wrong the term of "toy" sounds in regards to children, fictional or not.)

The true facts here are that the reader and author are still putting a child's face onto a character involved in NSFW content. That's all it is. Picturing a child's prepubescent body parts as a character and finding that attractive enough to write about in an NSFW fashion. Again, pro-ship will disagree and become hostile.

But why is NSFW fictional child pornography morally wrong when writing fictionalized incest pornography is not?

Because the fictionalized incest pornography does not involve actual siblings or family members. One may just like the characters together regardless of blood. It doesn't mean that the author or reader is attracted to their real life sibling or wishes to put two real life siblings together in NSFW scenarios like Liam and Chris Hemsworth and because child pornography is CSEA. A child cannot consent. Even fantasizing about a fictional child in rape scenarios is beyond levels of fucked up.

"But fictionalized incest isn't real so fictionalized child pornography isn't real"

The biggest difference is that the reader and writer aren't finding the real life prospect of incest attractive, but they are finding CSEA content an attractive scenario.

But god forbid you raise your voice against this, and you'll be crucified.

It. Doesn't. Matter. That. They're. Not. Real.

You are still attracted to the images of child characters.

But wait, no actual children were harmed?! "It's just an instrusive thought" "I can safely look at CSEA in a safe environment where I don't hurt anyone" No. Get help. Get therapy. Harm reduction is not thr same when it comes to non consenting minors and when it comes to a user getting off on the idea of children. Get help. There is no lesser evil here. These thoughts are not okay.

Come @ me. I'm not scared. Not as scared as some pro-shippers should be once their search history is discovered. (For the record, I pray you do not have this kind of content on your person. However if you truly believe CSEA is okay if no one is physically harmed by you then by all means, tell your therapist about it)

#end rant

[caffedrine]

Nokto Klein - Beyond the Connection Between the Past and the Present – Event Summary

This is mostly a summary for me - I make no promises on the accuracy of what’s happening. I’m not nearly fluent enough to get half the jokes/innuendo much less accurate plot points.

When Emma pokes her head out of the blankets one morning, she blearily sees familiar gray hair and red eyes. Oh, was Nokto watching her sleep again? How embarrassing.

Her voice full of sleep, Emma calls out to Nokto and asks if there’s something wrong. When he doesn’t reply, Emma surmises that he must want to be pampered today. Reaching a hand out from under the blankets, Emma combs his hair back.

Nokto giggles, telling her that she’s ticking him. Weirdly, he also calls her ‘big sister’.

. . .

Huh?

Was Nokto’s head always so little? And was his voice always so prepubescent? Emma looks closer at Nokto, but he was standing instead of kneeling next to the bed. Was Nokto always so short?

Suddenly Nokto, in all his adult glory walks into the room, breezily wishing Emma a good morning and asking if she’s awake yet.

He stops when he sees the kid and there’s a long silence. Nokto breaks it, asking Emma to explain the situation to him.

After the explanations are over, and Nokto has taken a nice long look at the kid, he guesses that this himself as a child.

(This, but a smaller head)

Lil’Nokto asks if this is what he’s like as an adult, and Nokto admits that, unfortunately, he is.

Lil’Nokto asks what he means by ‘unfortunately’ and Nokto admits that he’s bad with children.

Emma muses that Nokto’s past self really is here with them, and Nokto wonders if this is some sort of dream. Experimentally, Emma pinches her cheek.

Lil’Nokto is aghast - doesn’t she know that if she does that, her face will freeze and never return?

How cute!

Emma assures Lil’Nokto that she’s fine, see?

Oh, okay, that is true. Still, Lil’Nokto urges her to take better care of herself, he doesn’t want anything to happen to her beautiful face.

Emma asks Nokto how she can endure this . . . This unfiltered cuteness. Nokto grumbles that she never reacts like that when he says sweet stuff too.

Of course, just in case she’s wondering, Nokto also thinks she’s beautiful.

Her face going red, Emma thanks him. Wow, there really is something different when the adult calls her beautiful.

Well, as much fun as it is competing with some kid for Emma’s affections, they do need to figure some things out. He asks Lil’Nokto what he was doing before he arrived in the future.

Lil’Nokto has an easy answer - he was with his brother Licht, have they seen him?

As Nokto replies that he hasn’t seen Licht, Emma imagines running into adult!Licht, who would be as confused as the rest of them.

Lil’Nokto is worried, he needs to find Licht in order to return home. If he can’t find Licht, and is alone with his mother . . .

. . .

Thinking fast, Nokto ‘remembers’ seeing Licht. It looked like he had found adult!Licht and last he saw, they were riding a horse together. They’ll probably be back after dark.

An adult version of Licht!? Lil’Nokto sounds excited.

Well, there’s no point in worrying about it until after dark, so why don’t they do whatever they want? It looks like Emma over there is dying to feed them some sweets!

Turning to her, Lil’Nokto asks if it’s true, which it is. Emma promises to make him anything he likes, and he promises that he loves everything.

Okay, Emma will just have to make a variety.

Suddenly Lil’Nokto gasps and points - Emma has an injury! That red oval mark, right on her neck.

As Lil’Nokto panics, adult!Nokto has to turn away to laugh. He assures Lil’Nokto that while it may be red, Emma doesn’t find it painful at all.

Huh?

Oh-ooooh. The hickey Nokto left last night.

Her cheeks growing red with embarrassment, Emma assures him that she’s fine and thanks him for being worried for her.

Anyways, while she’s cooking, Nokto will take care of Lil’Nokto. He has so many things he wants to teach him while Emma is away . . .

When Emma returns with tea and snacks, they begin playing a card game. A card game that Emma immediately loses. Weird, she used to be pretty decent at cards.

It’s down to Nokto and Lil’Nokto, with Nokto pronouncing the sweets go to the winners. Lil’Nokto cheers at this, and dives in. When they had started, Lil’Nokto had been hesitant about eating, but with Nokto’s idea to use sweets as the reward, any hesitation Lil’Nokto had is gone.

Lil’Nokto begins to ask to play again- this time with a different reward but falls silent.

While he stuffs himself with more sweets, Emma leans into Nokto and asks what he was talking about while she was in the kitchen.

Oh, not much. He just wanted to give Lil’Nokto some advice that would come in handy.

Huh, maybe he was giving him card game tips?

Emma pronounces that for the next card game, she’s not going to go easy on Lil’Nokto just because he’s a child. From now on, she’ll go all out.

Lil’Nokto is surprised - Emma wasn’t being serious?

(She was, she had gone all out)

In that case, Lil’Nokto agrees not to go easy on her either, he won’t hold back anymore.

What a challenge! Nokto pronounces the winner gets to ask the loser for anything. Anything at all.

This is a little more interesting than gambling for sweets, right?

Emma braces herself; she can’t lose.

One loss later . . .

Emma sits with her head down. She is the loser, and depending on who wins the next round, she’ll have to reward either Nokto or Lil’Nokto with anything they want.

They both play their last cards, and the winner is . . . Lil’Nokto. Emma can’t help but catch the glimpse of a card in Nokto’s sleeve, he had been cheating on his younger self’s behalf.

A win is a win. Nokto reminds Lil’Nokto that he can claim his victory from Emma, but what will he request?

Lil’Nokto barely has to think - does she remember earlier that morning when she stroked his head? He wants her to do that again.

Emma complies, gently stroking Lik’Nokto’s hair. It’s so soft and fluffy. Lil’Nokto murmurs that her hand is so warm and nice, he could stay like this for ever.

To her surprise, Nokto has a sad and lonely expression. Emma asks if something is wrong, and Nokto admits that there was a time that he was like this.

Okay then.

Emma beckons Nokto to join them. He does, telling Emma that she doesn’t have to do this.

Okay, but she wants to.

Well, fine. If it’s what she wants, he’ll indulge her.

Though there is no guarantee this will last beyond this moment, Emma wants both Nokto and Lil’Nokto to feel happy.

Both are important to her.

[acetonelungz]

Jaws

pt1 pt2 pt3 pt4

Simon Riley was a whisper in the wind.

Rumors and wise tells of the infamous “Ghost” haunted every soldier, even those not on the opposing team.

He was scary. And not the little kid monster type of scary, scary as in he stood in the corner and watched you like prey. Scary in the way that everyone thought of him as a ticking time bomb. Expect for John Price.

“So are you in, Simon?”

“Ghost is in, Simon is gone.”

“Ah, right. My bad mate.”

And now he was here, in enemy territory aiding in the rescue of some soldier.

Simon was the type to not question missions and just simply get the job done.

This one was different though.

Why make a big fuss over some low grade soldier? Quite a bit of trouble over a nobody. His questions remained mere thoughts, as he wouldn’t question out loud his authoritative figures. Ghost also quite literally couldn’t give two fucks.

Following Price, he scoured the hallways, making sure to take down everything threat and security camera. Soon enough, they arrived at a heavily locked door.

“This outta be it.” Price whispered back towards Ghost. “Plantin’ a lil package.” He placed an IUD on the door and quickly found cover before an explosion sounded off.

Deciding to do double kill, he threw a flash bomb to curb any possible threats.

Upon running into the space, he discovered exactly what they had been looking for.

A little feisty brunette who attempted to kick him in the balls.

“I’m Captain Price and we’re here to rescue you.”

“Took ya fucking long enough.” Ghost chuckled.

“Whats funny fuckface?” He did not chuckle this time.

Price huffed a half-assed laugh while lifting her up by the arms, “Easy there, we’re just here to help and we need to leave asap.” With that he turned and headed towards the now torn up door.

She followed wordlessly behind him, as well as Ghost.

As they walked towards around the base, the bodies of soldiers could be seen all along the corridors and hallways. One in particular, was the guard from earlier. It took everything within her not to spit on his dead body, but rather she lightly kicked it. In return Price gave her a unsatisfied look.

“I think after what I’ve been through I can at least do that.”

He nodded without saying a word.

Soon enough they reached the massive tan military trucks just outside the base, only two were present which sparked confusion within the woman.

“How many of there were you?”

“What’d you expect a bloody army private?” Ghost huffed from underneath his mask.

This royally pissed her off.

She quickly got into his face, sneering “Actually it’s lieutenant, and for how many bodies there were I assumed there were more of you. Not an unintelligent question but rather an unintelligent response.”

“You have five seconds to get the fuck out of my face-“

“Okay you two.” Price quickly separated the two, focused on the woman while saying, “We need to be cordial if we’re going to figure this entire thing out. Once we get back to base there are many questions we need to find the answer to. The sooner we get back the sooner you can be done with this all. So knock it off and get the in the bloody truck.”

“Yes Captain.” They said in unison, the woman glared at Ghost while he remained unbothered. Realizing it wasn’t worth it, she dropped it and got in the truck.

‘My first interaction with people in six months and this is what I’m dealing with. One dressed up asshole who is awkward as a prepubescent boy and an old man who thinks he’s my father.’ She thought while riding in the back while Ghost rode passenger with Price driving.

“I forgot to ask earlier,” Price started, breaking the girl out of her thoughts. “Can you confirm your name and status?”

“Lieutenant Collette Swanson also known as Jaws.”

[burst-of-iridescent]

How do you feel about the “zutara can’t happen because it would break aang”?

you know what this "argument" always reminds me of?

forgive me if aang's feelings aren't exactly a vital factor to take into account when it comes to a relationship that has absolutely zip zilch nada to do with him. he's literally twelve. he'll grow up. he'll get over it. he'll be perfectly fine. i promise he's not gonna spend his life mooning over some girl he liked as a prepubescent child, and if he does - well, that sounds like it's time to head to therapy.

and why is it exactly that it's perfectly fine for katara to have to sacrifice her own happiness to mollycoddle aang all her life, but asking aang to go through a little preteen heartbreak is a crime against humanity? why on earth should aang's happiness take precedence over katara's?

but of course, when the show itself spends so much time focusing on aang's feelings, it's only natural that katara's would seem utterly irrelevant and unimportant in comparison. it's no surprise that this is exactly the kind of argument a ship as misogynistic and one-sided as kat.aang would produce.

[bella-goths-wife]

Murder at the frat party

Evil trio x reader

The four of you arrived to a cheap motel after the train ride. They reassured you that the cullens wouldn’t reach you and it would be safe, that and the weather was going to be nice and they couldn’t risk sparkling.

Victoria and James decided it would be best to be separated for the night so she could stay with you in a different room. They knew that you wouldn’t go back to the cullens but they couldn’t risk you running.

You felt yourself begin to grow thirsty as you pondered wether or not animals would be close by. You hated hurting and killing animals, they were innocent creatures and didn’t deserve it.

“Your getting thirsty aren’t you?” Victoria asks with a giggle, you nod “don’t worry, we’ll be heading out as soon as it gets darker”

“Where will we go?” You ask curiously

“We’ll walk around until we can find some kind of group we can feed off” she says casually as she starts to put away the clothes she had In her large hand bag

“How do you get them to follow you?” You questioned

“Good old seduction” Victoria says while posing dramatically “speaking of, we need to find you a new outfit”

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” You ask, not fully comfortable with dressing in front of someone

Victoria sighs as she eyes your pink sporting outfit with thrills on the sleeves and bows

“It’s a bit childish” she confesses “your a three hundred year old vampire, not a thirteen year old princess”

“I never really liked pink” you confessed “Rosalie usually chooses my outfits”

“Well that’s going to change” Victoria says with a smile “your an adult, you can choose your own sense of style”

“That sounds nice” you smile at the idea of the independence

“Give me one second and I’ll find us an outfit” she says as she heads out the door in the shaded area of the motel

You pondered where she went, she couldn’t go shopping it was way to light. As soon as you zoned out to think about it, Victoria returned with two suitcases with the names ‘Haley’ and ‘Chrissy’ labelled on them.

“You get Chrissy, she’s the same size as you” Victoria says as she puts the bag on the bed and opens it “Who leaves their bags outside a motel?”

“Won’t you get in trouble?” You ask hesitantly

“Probably” Victoria says with a playful grin “but who cares”

You both dig through the suitcases and Victoria gleefully chooses while your stumped. You don’t remember the last time you picked an outfit, the last time you did corsets were still mandatory.

“Having trouble?” Victoria asks as she ventures to your bed, you nod confused “want help?”

“Yes please” you sigh out

Victoria pulled stuff out and asked your opinion before putting it in a yes and no pile. It was refreshing that she didn’t immediately choose for you and actually asked you opinion.

“What about this?” She asked as she pulled out a cute top, you nodded and she smiled at your approval “it might be a bit big, do you mind trying it on for me?”

You shifted uncomfortably for a few seconds at the thought of changing in front of her. Victoria notices and gives you a comforting look

“I can turn around if you want?” She offers gently

“No, it’s fine” you reassure as you lift your shirt above your head.

Victoria double takes after a moment. That’s when she noticed what was hidden under your top. Your chest was layered in multiple bandages that binded your chest down forcefully.

“Why do you wear them?” She asks carefully as you look at her confused

“Esme said that girls as young as me wear these all the time” you said confused

Victoria felt realisation hit her. The reason you looked so long wasn’t your doing, it was theirs. They had tried to keep you in a prepubescent body to make you look more childlike. They were sick

“Aren’t you uncomfortable?” She asks while looking at the back of the bandages which were being held together by pins that went through your skin.

“I used to be” you confessed “but it’s not as bad since I don’t have to breathe and my skin heals around the pins, it hurts when I take it off though”

“This isn’t what you should be wearing” Victoria informed “you should be wearing a bra”

“What’s a bra?” You questioned

Victoria answers the question by rooting through the suitcase and finding a black bra that she guessed was your size. She then carefully takes off the bandages before turning around and talking you through putting the bra on.

“This is more comfortable” you confessed

“Not for long” Victoria jokes as she looks at the outfit the two of you assembled together “here, I’ll help you put this on”

(This is the outfit I envisioned but you can change it any way you want, this is just what I see)

“You two are looking nice” Laurent remarks as he and James enter your room

“Looking hot babe” James compliments Victoria as he kisses her forehead and she giggles, you envy them slightly

“So where are we hunting tonight?” Laurent asks impatiently, clearly thirsty

“Well some little bird called Chrissy was tweeting about some frat party in the lobby earlier” Victoria suggests as the four of you make your way out the room

“Are we sure that’s the best place for this one to start?” Laurent questions as he motions to you “these frats can be awfully aggressive and handsy”

“She’s not a child” Victoria chimes in “we shouldn’t treat her like one, she’s a grown woman who can easily kill anyone who goes too far”

Victoria looks at you for backup and you nod, assuring them that you’d be fine

“Well if your sure” Laurent sighs before looking at you calmly “just remember to come to us if someone is pushy”

You nod with a smile, your opinion mattered with this group. You’d never felt like that before, they valued your consent

You arrived at the fraternity, beta something. There were red solo cups lining the garden and passed out people on the porch. Music blared from speakers as the four of you headed inside.

Victoria grabbed you hand and took you to get a drink

“Can we even get drunk?” You asked doubtfully as Victoria handed you a drink

“Only if we drink a lot” she says as she pours an extra large dosage in your cup “we have a higher tolerance”

You nod as you spot james and Laurent talking to some girls, you tug on Victorias sleeve to get her attention and she giggles

“He’s just getting dinner” she reassures “we’ll have to do the same”

“I don’t think I can ‘seduce’ people” you said self consciously

“Your a beautiful girl, they’ll be tripping over themselves to talk to you” she comforts as she spots a boy approaching you and wiggles her eyebrows “speaking of, I’ll let you two talk”

Victoria walks away and the boy comes up to you with a playful grin

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing here alone?” He asks and you freeze before remembering what you read in Victorias magazine earlier

“Looking for company” you try to say confidently but it came out slightly stiff, he didn’t care as he laughed

“Is that so?” He ask with a grin “me too”

You fake a giggle but it comes out high pitched and you wince. You turn your head slightly in embarrassment before seeing James staring at you

“Be careful” he whispers out so that only your vampiric hearing could pick up on it “he’s putting something in your drink”

You turn back to the boy and he’s slipping his hand in his pocket and looking at you innocently. You hearing picks up on the sound of sizzling from something dissolving in your drink. The boy just makes conversation with you as you wonder what to do

“Lead him to a secluded bedroom” James whispers advice “and then make your kill”

You gave a slight nod and grab the boys hand who looks at you confused.

“Follow me” you command as you start to walk with his hand in yours “let’s take this to a more intimate setting”

The boy excitedly follows as you use your hearing to find an empty bedroom. When you find one you drag him inside and close and lock the door.

“Your so fucking hot” he crudely says as you approach and he goes to kiss you. You dodge his kiss and put your mouth on his neck. He assumed that you were giving him a hickey “fuck yes”

You feel his pulse quicken as you dug your fangs into his fragile neck. You place your hand over his mouth to silence his cries of agony as your yellow eyes slowly turned red as you gulped down his fresh, fearful blood.

You always felt guilty after drinking from animals, they were innocent beings who didn’t deserve it. But some humans did deserve the cruelty of your fangs

His body dropped to the ground when you were done and you turned to find your three new friends staring at you in amusement.

Victoria throws her arms around you and hugs you

“You’ve get me feeling all proud like a big sister” she gushes as she helps you wipe blood from your blood

“Congrats kid” James says with a smile as he watches his mate fuss over you

They truly made you feel like you Belonged and even though they used child like pet names they treated you like an adult.

“Welcome to the club” Victoria says gleefully while she hugs you “little sis”

For the first time that nickname doesn’t breed disgust in your chest, instead you feel joy.

[carma-bis]

I think the one thing that always kept me peaked was playing video games with my older brother since I've been 7. I was safe when people thought I was male. Voice comms, team chats, online forms for the games, didn't matter. If I was male, I was safe. Sure people were mean, rude, downright disgusting, but even by the time I hit 12, and I started seeing how "grown" girls/women couldnt hide behind prepubescent innocence anymore (mainly do you sound young enough to be a boy before voice cracking) and just how night and day the behaviors males exhibeted towards them were, in a bad way. They stop responding to your callouts, then act like someone could have stopped their shitty decision (and then they dont talk to you for the rest of the game), they shout over you almost excessively, you're forced into support roles, "bitch" always ALWAYS has more vitriol, your opinion means nothing when the group is asked what they want to do, or you're put on a pedestal and all the men complain the entire time so you do it for 5 minutes then cave. Then you start getting groomed, older men start complimenting you more and more. they start questioning you when you push back. Every man you run into asks you out, no matter if youre friends or not or how long you've known each other, once you hit 16, it's like there's a fucking tag put on you. And its not immediate, one day you just start getting treated like that. Its gradual (except once they find out your 16, wild shit there). But I never understood why it could be so insulting for someone to think youre a man. It's literally the safest way to exist. And ya, because it has nothing to do with being safe, its about controlling a narrative. I never FORCED other men to call me a man, but I never corrected them when they called me one. And that's the difference, I think. And it's why i never fully went under lol. Cause literally no man wants to hear me talk about my experiences about it and thats peak material in and of itself. Why do I have to listen to you all the time but you refuse to listen to me?

[victorckk]

Would og no heart have ever been able to reformed like unleash?

As someone who’s been in love with him since I was 4-6, I have very mixed feelings. I think.

RAMBLING AHEAD.

Yippee!!

On one hand, a part of me doesn’t think so, because a lot of cartoon villains in the 80s (to my knowledge) weren’t really fleshed out, and only existed to be evil and nothing more or less.

But the other part of me hangs on to that small bit of copium.

I am a HUGE sucker for fleshed out and developed villains, and I really would have loved to see what made him evil in the first place and why he hates positive feelings so much. Even though he technically doesn’t, as we’ve seen how much he cares for Shreeky in a few episodes (and would never dare to get rid of Beastly as seen in another one).

Makes me wonder if it’s a facade and he only acts uncaring and heartless to be quirky, or if he’s just the type of guy who has no idea how to handle his feelings if he does have some sort of care left over still.

I would have loved to see the OG No Heart reform, but I also would have loved to see him suffer while being reminded why he doesn’t care anymore. Make that man suffer

• • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Now, of course, UTM couldn’t exactly make him too dark and violent of a villain like the original. Considering the show is targeted towards younger audiences, and a lot of laws and rules regarding cartoons for children have changed since the 80s, especially in certain regions.

Although, I am still upset about the prepubescent sounding voice change (they didn’t even try) and turning him into an idiot routes that the studio went with. He isn’t that dumb, I mean.. come on.

I can still see why they reformed him though, even if I don’t agree with it.

As a (I think?) preschool show that’s based on helping others and spreading love and caring, yeah. I could have seen it coming from a mile away.

However… I still think they should have fleshed him out a lot more before doing it. Maybe a two or three parter special where they go into detail about his backstory, why he became the way he was, and make him work on fixing the problems he caused instead of automatically making everyone forgive him (my biggest cartoon pet peeve).

• • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Augh I rambled too far from the topic at hand, but- I think if they would’ve kept the Nelvana series going at the time, it could’ve gone two ways.

They either could’ve gone the same route as most shows in the 80s and kept him evil with no other personality or backstory whatsoever. Or they could’ve pulled a Uno Reverse on us and give him a traumatic backstory for the heck of it.

I’m really hoping they do end up bringing him back, but not in UTM. I want to see a new series revolving around him, or a series where he’s the main villain again. Something like MOTU Revelation/Revolution (only example I can come up with) where he gets an actual backstory AND has a reason for being the way he is.

[andiwriteordie]

mike has an asthma attack! will is there! you have free reign BUT mike must be wearing glasses bc he does not have working lungs OR eyes. ❤️

LISTEN EVERYONE. ASTHMATIC MIKE WHEELER WITH GLASSES IS SO REAL TO ME. THANK YOU FOR INDULGING THIS HEADCANON THEA. ILY.

say hi to mike wheeler being a nerdy little loser in love in this little modern college au!

—

so in love that i might stop breathing 

This was a bad idea.

No like… seriously, this was a bad idea, and Mike can practically hear the sound of his roommates’ laughter in the back of his mind. God, Max and Dustin are never going to let him live this down, are they? No, they’re definitely not, because they’re both a couple of jackasses who thrive off of making Mike’s life miserable. Every day, he asks himself why the hell he’s still best friends with them.

… 

Whatever. In this case, they were most definitely right, even though Mike insisted that they would not be.

And that is exactly why Mike Wheeler is currently jogging at his local park and trying not to… oh, you know… die and stuff.

There are a lot of things going wrong, and suddenly, Mike is reminded of why he nearly failed high school a few years ago, despite having pretty decent grades. Fucking gym class was nearly the death of him—like… actually. Yeah, tenth grade Mike had to run the mile and (very stupidly) forgot his inhaler in his locker on the other side of the building. He may or may not have had an asthma attack out on the field. Max may or may not have yelled at a lot of people while Dustin sprinted to grab Mike’s inhaler.

… 

They’re not here to bail him out this time, so that’s rather unfortunate. But hey, Mike does have his rescue inhaler this time—not that it’ll do much good, since he’s already taken it and technically shouldn’t take it again for another couple hours, according to the instructions. And honestly, that sucks because Mike has been running for the last fifteen minutes, and his chest feels all tight and itchy and gross. 

Not only that, but Mike is fucking sweating. It’s nearly the end of September, and they live in fucking Chicago, so why is it nearly 80 degrees outside? Climate change is fucking real, and it’s going to be the death of him. His face is all sweaty and disgusting, and his glasses are most definitely fogged up and about to fall off his damn face. It’s great. Really, really great.

And of course—of fucking course—the cherry on top of the cake is that he is here.

Yeah.

The most gorgeous guy Mike has ever seen in his life is here at the park, like he always is and like Mike expected him to be. He’s running laps like normal and wearing those stupid short shorts that Mike knows the track guys at school wear, and Jesus, Mike is so gay. He’s so fucking gay, and honest to God, he’s going to get distracted and trip over his fucking shoelaces because this guy is just so gorgeous. 

And Mike doesn’t know what the hell he was thinking, honestly. He’d just gotten some stupid idea last night when he was a little tipsy and had decided that the best way to get the attention of Gorgeous Runner Guy was to, in fact, become a Gorgeous Runner Guy himself. 

…

It’s not working.

Yeah, there’s no way in hell that Mike looks like a Gorgeous Runner Guy, because he’s over here gasping for air, struggling to finish the lap around the track, and sweating like he’s a prepubescent boy. Definitely not the best way to catch the attention of the gorgeous guy he’s been trying to work up the courage to talk to for the past month, so Mike thinks it’s probably just time to cut his losses and go sit down before he actually collapses on the ground and has an asthma attack or something.

(Dear God, imagine if he actually stopped breathing or some shit like that and Gorgeous Runner Guy had to give him mouth-to-mouth. Mike thinks he’d rather just die at that point.)

Once Mike finally makes it around the track, he walks over to the nearby bench, fighting the urge to just completely collapse onto it. His legs feel like jelly, and the water bottle Max had insisted he take this morning is already empty. His chest still feels all tight, and his pride definitely feels wounded. The walk of shame into his apartment is not going to be a fun ordeal, so as Mike sits down on the bench, he closes his eyes and tries to think through his roommates’ schedule.

Okay, so Dustin definitely has class today, so he shouldn’t be there. That’s good. Max should be going to work soon, so if Mike can hold out a little bit longer, he should be able to avoid her too. In the end, their teasing is inevitable, but Mike would really prefer to keep some of his dignity in tact and not let his best friends see him like this—

“Um, excuse me?”

Mike flinches sharply, and he opens his eyes, and hoooooly shit, holy shit, holy shit.

It’s Gorgeous Runner Guy.

Gorgeous Runner Guy smiles shyly, and he glances at the empty space on the bench next to Mike. “Um… do you mind if I sit with you?” he asks, a little bit breathless. “I, um… I just wanted to take a break, you know?”

Yes, yes, yes, and while you’re at it, do you want to marry me? the literally fucking insane part of Mike’s mind answers.

Mike, fortunately, does not say that aloud. Instead, he just nods hastily and scoots over, patting the bench. “Y-yeah,” he says breathlessly. “Of course.”

Gorgeous Runner Guy flashes another smile at him, and he takes a seat next to Mike. He’s close enough now that Mike can feel his warmth—or honestly, that must just be the stupid, fucking 80 degree weather. It could also be the fact that Mike is sweating. A lot.

“I’m Will, by the way,” Gorgeous Runner Guy introduces, turning to Mike and smiling, and God, did Mike mention how gorgeous he is? Because he is. He’s gorgeous. 

Oh. And his name is Will.

Will’s gorgeous.

“I… I’m gorgeous,” Mike says, and as soon as the words are out of his mouth, he catches the slip up. “Shit, no, that’s not what I meant! I mean, you… you’re gorgeous.. Wait, shit, I didn’t mean to say that either; um, shit, sorry. I’m… I’m Mike.”

(Once again, Mike can practically hear Max and Dustin laughing at him. And once again, he definitely deserves it.)

A surprised look forms on Will’s face, and his cheeks get a little bit rosier. He glances away for a moment, then looks back at Mike and shrugs. “I mean… you are,” he points out, a flirty smile forming on his face, and oh.

Oh.

Warmth rises to Mike’s cheeks, and he stares back at Gorgeous Runner Guy—er, Will—in surprise. “You… you’re joking right?” he asks in disbelief. 

Will just laughs, soft and sweet. “I’m not joking unless you are,” he says, a bit shyer now. “Are you joking?”

“No, no,” Mike reassures quickly. “I… I didn’t mean to say that actually, but… but I meant it.”

He pauses, wincing slightly. “Sorry,” Mike adds. “This is so not what I had in mind when I imagined talking to you for the first time.”

“It’s cool,” Will promises with another little laugh. His eyes crinkle a bit when he smiles, and he shrugs. “Maybe we should just… start over then?”

“Maybe,” Mike says, and as the two of them exchange a smile, he turns to fully face Will now. 

“Hi,” Mike introduces softly, holding out his hand for Will to take. “I’m Mike.”

The look on Will’s face softens, and he takes Mike’s hand. His touch is electric, and Mike’s breath catches—no surprise there. Something about Will has always taken his breath away.

“I’m Will,” Will replies, his voice just as soft. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

[lexosaurus]

The Phantom Martian: Chapter 15

Existential crisis for Danno time wooooo!

This fic is a crossover between Danny Phantom x The Martian. I found out today that Perseverance recently captured footage of a dust devil that was five times the height of the Empire State building. This is unrelated to this fic but I just thought it was a cool little thing and wanted to share.

xxxx

Summary: When Astronaut Mark Watney went to Mars, he knew there was a chance he'd never come home. Now, though, he's determined to last long enough for NASA to save him because this whole dying for science thing is not as fun as it sounds.

Meanwhile, Danny Fenton is just trying to keep his identity a secret amidst a potential crisis with his powers. Seriously, what's up with that weird current under his skin? Why is he having so much trouble controlling it? And why does it feel so familiar...?

In a fit of determination (and possible stupidity), Danny goes to Mars to save Watney, only to add to both their crises when he arrives and can't get home. Will NASA save them? Will Danny have a home to return to if they do?

Chapter WC: 5195

Fic Tags: Danny Fenton & Mark Watney, Canon Divergence, Ecton AU

Chapter excerpt under the cut

xxxx

“Mark, and yes I'm being serious, but you aren't actually trying to kill yourself here, are you?” Danny asked.

“No. If I was, I'd just switch the oxygenator off and flood the Hab with nitrogen. And I'd take a Vicodin. Or several.”

Now Danny really didn't know whether he should be confused or concerned.

Mark continued on anyway. “Listen, a new probe will never work. They’re rushing it! They won't be able to build half of the stuff needed in time. The probe would be lucky to make it off the ground, much less be able to transport all the food to Mars intact. And that's why we're not going to go with this plan.”

“We're not?” Danny asked, his voice rising to an embarrassing pitch. “Um, no offense, but aren't we sitting ducks here? It's not like we can build a rocket to take us home.”

“Aha! I thought you might say that!” Mark pointed to Danny, and from an angle, he looked less like an astronaut and more like the Mad Hatter minus the hat. “See, the thing is, Daniel James Fenton Phantom, is that I've been thinking. A lot.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes. And I've decided something.”

Danny was almost afraid to ask. “What have you decided?”

“I want you to buckle up, my dear little overpowered alien child. My lost, damned ecto-contaminated soul. My little prepubescent ecton-fusion filled halfa.” 

“I've hit puberty, actually! I’m seventeen! You literally gave me a cake-shaped potato and tried to use Martinez’s cross as a candle on my birthday!”

Mark ignored him, hunching over to rest his elbows on his knees and tucking his steepled hands into his chin. “You and I are going to solve this problem using ghost powers.”

[absolutepokemontrash]

A Forgotten Birthday

Wuh oh, it looks like I forgot my own OC’s birthday. Time to write a fic to make up for it…

Warnings: None

Genre: hurt/comfort

Series Masterlist

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Venus, why are you in my office? It’s late.”

“Just waiting for something.”

Lucifer raised an eyebrow at his dear child, who was staring up at the clock in his study. They didn’t seem overly concerned. Their face was utterly neutral as their eyes followed the ticking of the clock.

“3…”

“Venus-“

“2…”

“What are you doing?”

“1!”

The clock struck midnight, and Venus turned to Lucifer and smiled.

“You just missed my birthday.”

And with that, Venus turned on their heel and strode right out of Lucifer’s office. As the sound of their footsteps began to fade, Lucifer blinked a few times in sheer confusion.

Missed their birthday? Lucifer had never missed Venus’ birthday, it was on April 23, and that was-

Lucifer’s eyes flitted to his calendar.

OH FUCK IT HAD BEEN THE 23RD!

Leaping out of his office chair and speeding down the hall after Venus, Lucifer felt actual sweat begin to roll down his temples. Did he seriously forget his own child’s birthday?! What kind of a father was he?!

He caught a glimpse of Venus walking down the hall to their room, and they seemed to spot him from the corner of their vision, then stopped dead in their steps.

Neither one moved, and it was at that moment that Lucifer realized he didn’t exactly have a plan for how he was going to approach this situation.

Taking a step forward, Lucifer cleared his throat. “Venus-“

At the speed of a crack of lightning, the child took off in a dead sprint. Sighing through clenched teeth, Lucifer took off after them.

“Venus Morningstar, you get back here right now!”

“NO!” Venus shouted back as they sharply turned towards their room.

The child was fast, but Lucifer was faster, and he was right on their tail. However, Venus was running on spite and prepubescent rage, and just before Lucifer could grab the back of their shirt, they twisted and dove into a side closet, slamming the door behind them.

“Go away! I'm sure you’re busy, Father.”

Lucifer let out a sigh through gritted teeth at his own stupidity, then knocked on the closet door. “Venus, come out.”

“No!”

“You literally have no other exit; how do you see this turning out for you?”

“...shut up!”

Okay, I deserve a ‘shut up’ or two… massaging his temples, Lucifer knocked again.

“Venus I… I’m sorry I forgot your birthday. I was so busy I just-”

“I don't want any of your dumb excuses!” Venus snapped, their voice muffled.

“Fine then,” Lucifer replied. “I’m sorry, Venus. Forgetting something as important as your birthday was unacceptable. How do I make this better?”

Hearing shuffling from the other side of the door, Lucifer felt his heart soar with hope for just a moment… before it was immediately dashed when he heard a thump against the still-closed door.

“I'm thinking.”

Oh. Thinking. Wonderful. Lucifer loved it when Venus used their brain.

The Avatar of Pride knew damn well his child was at least half the sadist that he was, so whatever they were going to come up with was going to be tortuous-

“I want to insult you.”

“Wh-what?”

“I want to insult you. No filter.”

Lucifer almost openly groaned. That would be hell. A nagging little voice whispered to leave it. Let Venus sulk for a while. They’d get over it. Lucifer Morningstar should not allow himself to be insulted by his own flesh and blood!

Muscling through that prideful impulse, Lucifer nodded to himself. He could take it. He wasn't some lesser pride demon who would fly into a rage over any petty insult. Besides, how bad could a couple of zingers from a child be?

“Go ahead. Do your wor-”

The door swung open, and there Venus stood, arms crossed and tapping their foot as they looked Lucifer up and down from behind the lenses of their glasses.

“You smell like absolute garbage.”

“H-hm?”

“When you pull your all-nighter on Wednesdays, you smell like garbage. I know you think it’s fine because you don’t think to shower, but no, you smell like old Demonus and sweat and everyone can tell.”

Lucifer felt blood rush to his cheeks. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea-

“And another thing, you have a lot of nerve telling me to tuck in my shirt to, and I quote ‘look presentable’. Look at your vest, old man, it’s rumpled to high hell!”

The demon’s hands instinctively moved to smooth down his vest, which he noted, was in fact quite rumpled.

“Also, it’s super annoying how much you openly you simp for Dia.”

“I do not simp for-“

“Yes you do! It’s so weird when you two give each other goo goo eyes during meetings! Like- we get it! You’re in love! GAH!” Venus threw their hands in their air as their nose wrinkled in frustration. “That stuff makes Uncle Asmo uncomfortable! Uncle Asmo. You know, the one who could make a depraved sex offender uncomfortable for funsies.”

“Okay I-“

“You also really need to look at yourself before you start calling Luke a chihuahua. You’re basically a giant chihuahua! Pot meet kettle!”

“I am not a chi-!”

“AND ANOTHER THING-“

Lucifer was seriously beginning to regret this.

“I think you’re bad at making excuses!”

“Oh really?”

“Yes!” Venus answered Lucifer’s challenge and stepped forward, their glare hardening. “Your excuse for forgetting my birthday was lame! Everyone else remembered! I thought you were just planning a surprise for me or something, but I didn’t think you actually forgot about me!”

The slight wobble in their voice was enough to break the mask of rage and show the utter betrayal that lay beneath. Lucifer felt guilt wrap around his heart and squeeze as Venus turned away, beginning to walk down the hallway towards their room.

“Like I said earlier, I’m sure you have work or something. You should do that.”

“Venus, wait.” Lucifer caught their arm and sighed again, lowering himself to their level. “I'm sorry.”

“You already said that.”

“And that means I really mean it,” Lucifer shot back. “You of all people should know how much a pride demon loathes to apologize.”

Venus let out a humourless laugh and shook their head, still not looking at Lucifer. “Sorry doesn’t make me feel better.”

“I know, and I can’t expect it to.” Lucifer continued. “You know, I did have plans for your birthday.”

“You… you did?”

“Yes.” Lucifer said with a nod as Venus sneakily tried to steal a glance at their father. “I was going to take the day off, we were going to go get ice cream and then travel up into the human world and watch a movie, then we’d go and get sushi with your ren.”

“And yet, you still forgot.”

Wincing, Lucifer nodded again. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but it wasn’t that I didn’t think it was an important day, I just… lost track of time.”

Venus let out a long, shuddering sigh and nodded. “Alright.”

“You can’t exactly blame me for one other thing about your birthday though, Venus.”

The child’s expression of sad acceptance morphed into another glare as they whirled around and almost growled at him. “And what exactly is that?”

“You can’t blame me for dreading how you’re growing up so fast,” Lucifer allowed his expression to soften as he took in his child’s stare. It morphed from anger, to an almost adorable confusion. “It seems like only yesterday you were bouncing on your toes as I gave you a tour of the House of Lamentation. You were only twelve then, hm?”

“M…mhm.”

“And now you’re older.” Lucifer tilted his head. “How could you expect me to watch my adorable child grow up and lose their chubby cheeks?”

Lucifer, faster than Venus could blink, reached over and lightly pinched their cheek. The half demon squeaked in alarm, before beginning to giggle.

“L-let go, dad! Geez! You’re so embarrassing…”

“I know, I’m terrible.”

“Mhm… damn right.” Venus’ giggles subsided, and they sighed again. “I’m tired… I shouldn’t have stayed up past midnight to send a message.”

“Well, consider your message sent. I have to wonder, did you-“

“Belphie advised me on it.”

“Of… course he did.”

Yawning, Venus turned away again, and Lucifer let go of their arm.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about this, father. I’m still angry.”

“I know,” Lucifer defeatedly replied. “Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

“Go to bed, father.”

“As you wish.”

As Lucifer lay in bed shortly after that exchange, he couldn’t help but wonder:

When was the last time he had gone to sleep this early?

He… really needed to fix his sleeping habits…

The sound of the door opening caused Lucifer to turn, but his sudden alertness softened when he saw who was standing in the doorway. Venus, holding a pillow in one hand and their cat in the other.

They kicked the door shut behind them and padded over to the bed, wordlessly dropping the cat down and climbing under the covers. Bean curled up on Lucifer’s chest almost immediately. Normally the cat was banned from his room, but this time… he’d have to make an exception.

Venus wrapped their arms around Lucifer’s upper arm and buried their face in his shoulder, and the demon couldn’t help but smile.

“Goodnight, Venus.”

“I’m still mad.”

Pressing a kiss to the top of their head, Lucifer then chuckled. “I know, I know.”

“Go to bed, father. That’s an order.”

The cat lightly swatted Lucifer’s nose, seemingly echoing the child’s sentiment.

“Fine. Fine.” Lucifer snapped his fingers, and the lights in his room went out, bathing the three in total darkness.

“Sleep well, Venus, and happy birthday.”

———————————

Author’s Note

Lucifer Morningstar is a stupid-ass bitch and I love him.

And I love Venus

Have a good day everyone

[bittersweetsin]

snippy snippy 🫧

“Lou!! Hi!!” Harry yells, voice echoing through the house. It makes Louis flinch at the sudden noise. “Or is it Louis? I think I like Lou better, it flows better off my tongue.”

He sticks his tongue out as a demonstration, hopping on each foot to take off his soiled adidas sneakers. Louis just stands there, body stiffening and he feels like a stranger in his own home with the way Harry is making himself comfortable. He has a million and one questions in his mind but he doesn’t know what to ask first. Harry has his shirt off now, and gets ready to take off his pants when Louis, reluctantly, clears his throat. Finally, Harry pauses and looks up at Louis, like a deer in headlights.

“Either or is fine,” Louis whispers, trying hard to keep his eyes anywhere besides the almost naked man in front of him. Like a cheeky minx, Harry grins, and resumes taking off his clothes. Once the intruder is in nothing but a pair of black socks and briefs, Harry takes it upon himself to walk to the kitchen.

Fortunately, Louis is quick on his tail, and enters when Harry opens a water bottle and starts downing it like he’s hasn’t had any in a while. Louis bites his lip as he watches his Adam's apple bob, and he has to lean his body against the marble counter to ground himself. Harry’s brown locks are still wet, tiny droplets running down the sides of his neck and smoothing over his sparrows, flawlessly falling onto his pecs.

Don’t get distracted, Tommo, ask him why he’s here.

“How do y-”

Harry interrupts him. “This is my first time in a Brownstone. I live in Long Island, we don’t have those out there.” That must be how he knows Niall, and that makes Louis wonder why they were in the boroughs instead of on the island. Louis lets out a frustrated sigh when Harry leaves the kitchen and starts walking down the hallway full of his embarrassing family pictures.

It’s not that Louis doesn’t want Harry here-that would be a total and utter lie-but, he doesn’t want him snooping around when he has questions that need to be answered. Why is he at Louis’ place on Valentine’s day, and not somewhere else? It also doesn’t help that his ass looks indecently plump in his briefs right now and Louis forces himself to look away when Harry stops dead in his tracks, moving closer to one of the picture frames on the wall.

It’s a family picture of thirteen year old Louis and his parents when they traveled to Disney World. That was his dream vacation and had been a reward for getting good grades that semester. While Louis stares at his prepubescent smiling face, wistfulness clenches in his chest. That’s one of the few times that Louis can remember being content. He had not a single care in the world, everything felt right, and he was happy. All the time.

“I’ve never been to Disney World…,” Harry whispers, breaking the silence before trailing off dreamily.

Louis lets out a quick breath to collect his emotions. “Really?”

Harry shakes his head as he runs a finger down a part of the old photograph, particularly Louis’ face, and moves an inch closer, studying it. “My parents never took me anywhere. After they got divorced, things became, I don’t know, weird?” He sounds almost like he’s asking himself and trying to figure out if that’s the right word he should use. Louis nods, assuming Harry catches the movement when he continues, voice barely above a whisper.

[wqintraining]

NEW X-MEN: THE ANIMATED SERIES - SEASON 3, EPISODE 6

We open in the middle of the night at Frost International’s corporate HQ. Inside the dark halls, two uniformed and lightly armed guards are patrolling. 

MINI MAX: “I’m just saying, I miss how things used to be.” 

OUTLAW: “You LIKED dressing like a cyberpunk fascist and having your official job title be, “Henchman”? 

MINI MAX: “No! But it beat having to tell people I’m a “Night Watchman”, and we used to get to carry those huge blasters, not non-lethal peashooters. I’ve been here 20 years, I know where all the skeletons are buried, I deserve a blaster!” 

OUTLAW, begrudgingly: “I do miss the blasters.” 

MINI MAX: “See? And “Henchwoman” was a pretty sexy title.” 

OUTLAW: “What have I told you about calling me “sexy”?!” 

MINI MAX: “That…you like it like every other woman?” 

As Outlaw’s about to get pissed, the two hear something. She says they should go check that out, with Mini Max following her, but hoping it’s something; maybe it’ll prove they need their old weapons back. 

The two arrive at the site of the noise, an executive office, but there’s no mess, or any sign of entry. Mini Max tells Outlaw to call this in. It may have just been the wind, but this could be another Mutant they’re dealing with. Outlaw agrees, and is about to call it in, before she sucker punches Mini Max, knocking him out with the butt of her gun. 

Unseen from the front, Outlaw uncovers a secret vault in the office, punches in a code, and opens it. She takes out a folder, and shuts the vault. 

Outlaw, folder not in hand, rubs her head in confusion, wondering what happened, and freaking out over their unconscious partner. They’re then hit by an electric shock, tazing them and knocking them out. 

We see the folder being twirled around in the hand of a blue fingerless glove, as we hear the laughter of what sounds like a prepubescent boy. 

Blue boots walk out of the building without setting off any alarms, jet boosters coming out of them, as the thief continues to laugh, flying off into the night 

At the Jean Grey School, the school’s Gay/Straight Alliance is meeting. This club includes Mercury, Bling!, Anole, Specter, Pixie, Loa, Indra, Wolf Cub, the younger student Dryad, and two other younger students we haven’t seen before: a blonde boy covered in eyes, and a black boy with glasses. 

The meeting is being run by Kitty, who’s dragged Iceman along, thinking it may be good for him, now that he’s embraced what he is, to hear what the kids have to say. 

ICEMAN: “And why couldn’t we have just talked about this stuff?” 

KITTY: “Cause I’m only here filling in for Karma. I’ve always liked girls…a girl…but I’ve never really vibed with, like, the queers.” 

ICEMAN: “I’ve been gay for two minutes, but even I know that sounds bad. How are things going with “a girl” anyway?” 

Kitty groans as she sinks into her chair. 

KITTY: “Avoiding her. Magneto agreed to keep sending Magik on missions while I figure things out, and, unlike Scott and Emma, she actually listens to him.” 

BOBBY: “Can’t dodge her forever.” 

KITTY: “I can try!” 

Specter, the club president, asks if anyone has something they want to talk about. Dryad knows this isn’t really the point of the club, but she wants to know if Pixie is really from Camelot. 

PIXIE: “Sure am!” SPECTER: “And don’t worry. “The point” of the club is just to be a safe place.” 

DRYAD: “Oh! Okay! So what’s it like? Are there unicorns? A beautiful queen?” 

PIXIE, her cheerful smile not fading at all: “It’s a brutal dictatorship where everyone struggles to survive.” 

DRYAD, face falling: “oh.” 

Kitty and Bobby, all too familiar with this, share a laugh. As the younger kid with glasses asks with disbelief about Camelot being real, Bobby receives a telepathic message. 

EMMA, telepathically: “Robert, a word?” 

BOBBY: “In the middle of something. Can it wait?” 

EMMA: “Not if you don’t want me to tell my brother about your self-revelation.” 

BOBBY: “Oh, that is so not cool.” 

EMMA: “Just come along. I require your assistance.” 

Bobby sighs, begrudgingly telling her he’ll be right there. 

KITTY: “Emma?” 

BOBBY: “Yeah. How’d you know?” KITTY: “The faces you were making. They’re the same ones I make whenever I have to deal with her.” She pats him on the back. “Good luck, buddy!” 

We cut to MIT, joining a dry physics lecture. Some students are taking notes diligently, while others have passed out. Among the latter group is a red-headed woman. At least until she gets a wakeup call. 

MONET, telepathically: “Why are you even here, Theresa?” 

Theresa groggily wakes up and sits up straight. She looks behind her and up a few rows, to see Monet doing something in her notebook. 

THERESA: “Could ask you the same thing. I’m gettin valuable rest. You’re scribbling.” 

MONET: “I am NOT scribbling.” She says this as we see her doodling smiling worms in a basket of apples. “And I don’t NEED to pay attention.” 

THERESA, mockingly: “Oh yeah, Monet St. Croix is such a genius she doesn’t even need to study to be perfect.” 

MONET, completely serious: “Yes. I’m glad you’ve finally realized this.” 

Theresa sighs with annoyance as the class is let out. 

Out in the hall, Monet and Theresa walk to their next destinations. Theresa asks if Monet is going to the Alpha Phi party that night. 

MONET: “Why would I do that?” 

THERESA: “I dunno. Bunch of snobby rich girls. Seems like your kinda people, and I figured the only two Mutants at this school could get some drinks together.” 

MONET: “Even if I was going, I wouldn’t bring you. But by all means, try and get in on your own. Drunk bimbos who won’t get anything from this school but a future husband seem like YOUR people.” 

THERESA, smiling with frustration: “It really hurts ye to be nice, doesn’t it?” 

MONET: “No. I just prefer being honest.” 

THERESA: “You must also love being alone then.” 

Theresa walks away from an unphased Monet. Something else, however, is able to get a reaction out of her. 

MONET: “What?!” 

Monet approaches and pulls down a flyer promoting a lecture Roberto is giving at the school that night. The lecture is called: “Me, Myself, and I, featuring Roberto Da Costa: Building An Empire By Yourself”, and there’s a picture of him winking. 

Monet, pissed, tears up the flyer. 

On a highway in the middle of nowhere, Akihiro tears up the road on his motorcycle, bluetooth device in his ear. 

AKIHIRO: “How are things going on your mission, my lady?” 

SOFIA, sarcastically: “Awful. I just failed an English test.” 

Akihiro laughs. And her friends? 

SOFIA, laying on the beach: “Delighted to have me back. Confused that I’m dating your sister.” 

We see Laura, uncomfortably happy, getting ice cream for them both at a nearby stand. 

AKIHIRO: “You are wicked. If she knew the truth about you, she’d be honored.”

SOFIA, putting on a fake smile and switching to talking like her normal self as Laura brings her her ice cream: “She already is. Good luck with your mission.” 

AKIHIRO: “I don’t need luck, my lady. I’ve been preparing for this my entire life.” 

The music picks up and we see where he’s heading, as we momentarily cut to Logan drinking alone in a roadside bar. 

In the Mission Room, Iceman arrives to find Emma and Cyclops waiting. What was so important? The Horsemen? Sinister? Dark Beast? 

ICEMAN: “Oh god, please tell me it wasn’t Dark Beast.” 

Scott tells him it, thankfully, isn’t anything too serious; there’s been enough of that lately. Emma fills him in on what’s happening: Over the last two weeks, her company has been robbed three times. Once from the corporate HQ, once from a domestic manufacturing facility, and once from an in-progress international shipment. In a normal month, her security is tight and competent enough to thwart any and all would-be thieves. Not only that, but at all three robberies, Mutant guards were present, and bested, and no sign that a thief was ever there was left behind. They don’t even remember anything. 

EMMA: “And the strangest part? They haven’t stolen anything vital. Valuable, yes, but nothing irreplaceable or particularly damaging.” 

Bobby gets from all that why she wouldn’t just take this to the cops, but is this really X-Men business? Emma counters that she can’t very well go after the ruffian mocking her with these robberies herself. That’s simply unprofessional. Cyclops volunteered, but she doesn’t want him working alone. 

ICEMAN: “Alright, I guess I can help. Sounds like an inside job to me. Probably some disgruntled Mutant employee.” 

EMMA: “Not possible. All of my employees are happy and well-compensated.” 

ICEMAN: “You literally busted a strike three months ago.” 

EMMA: “That is a slanderous description of what happened, and I will not stand for it.” Emma heads for the door. “Now, come along boys. The sooner we catch this annoyance, the sooner we can throw them in a hole.” 

Bobby and Scott are left behind as she exits. Scott has a big grin on his face. Bobby is irritated. 

SCOTT: “I love her.” 

BOBBY: “And you’re why I don’t want a Frost into me.” 

In a lecture hall at MIT, 23 year-old Roberto Da Costa is on stage sharing his life story with college students barely younger, or, in some cases, older than him. He’s clearly not taking this seriously, in full schemer mode as he walks around and speaks with a narcissistic swagger, and fluffing details of his past, such as saying he was the leader of the New Mutants, and that he was involved in his father’s business from a young age. 

As Roberto goes on a brief tangent, speaking to the reasons he admired his father, and the reasons he needed to cut his own path, Monet enters, her sour sneer present. Roberto notices her almost immediately and quickly wiggles his fingers at her teasingly. 

Monet, in a huff, tries to find a place to sit. She’s quietly called out to by a group of well-dressed black students, who mime an offer for her to sit with them, appearing friendly. There’s a mild but brief panic in Monet’s eyes as she turns away from them and finds a place to sit alone. 

Roberto continues to speak about how, even among the enlightened minds sitting before him, there’s likely still a common thought: For all that he’s achieved, repeatedly helping to save the world, bringing back Da Costa International, to new heights even, and having hair most men can only dream of, wouldn’t he have been more successful if he wasn’t a Mutant? 

ROBERTO: “But the truth is that I wouldn’t be nearly as successful if I wasn’t a Mutant. I may be a one-of-a-kind man, but I’m only the man I am because of my friends, my family, my community…” Roberto makes sure his eyes land on Monet. “My partners.” Monet rolls her eyes. “I am a Mutant and proud of it. And for any of you who are different or discriminated against in some way…” The screen behind Roberto displays footage of him at an outrageous and luxurious yacht party. “Make it your strength, and you can be as awesome as me!” The crowd applauds. Roberto whispers, “Well, almost as awesome.” 

A short time later, as Roberto is taking off his makeup backstage, Monet approaches him from behind, and before he can get out two smarmy words, she tosses him against a wall. 

MONET: “What the Hell are you doing here, Da Costa?” 

In the bar, Logan asks the bartender if he has the time. The bartender asks him in turn if his phone is dead. 

LOGAN: “Phone got eaten by the giants I was fighting before coming here.” 

The bartender looks at him strangely, unsure if he’s making a joke. 

On the street, we see a motorcycle racing down the road toward the bar. 

Logan laughs, with the bartender awkwardly laughing with him. 

LOGAN: “Yeah, I can never remember to keep that thing charged.” 

BARTENDER: “Heh, I feel that.” 

The motorcycle comes even closer. 

BARTENDER: “You got anyone who can remind you? My wife’s always reminded me.” 

LOGAN: “I look like the kinda guy with a wife?” 

BARTENDER: “Don’t sell yourself short, guy.” Logan glares at him. “Err, sorry, I didn’t mean, um…” 

The motorcycle has almost arrived. 

LOGAN: “Don’t worry about it. Can I get a menu?” 

BARTENDER: “Uhh, sure. Suddenly get hungry?” 

LOGAN: “Something like that.” 

The motorcycle parks out in front of the bar. Black boots step onto the ground. 

LOGAN, looking at the menu: “Huh. Haven’t had python in a few decades.” 

The door to the bar is opened and a bell rings, as sinister music plays…only for the music to turn triumphant as we pan up the person who’s just arrived. It isn’t Death; it’s Storm. 

The bartender’s jaw drops at the sight of her, as he mumbles in confusion over what “a goddess like that” is doing here. 

Storm comes right over to Logan, both happy to see one another, as she greets him and apologizes for being late. Logan reminds her he likes being alone. 

STORM: “Please, Logan. None of us have believed that in years.” 

She then kisses him on the lips before sitting down. 

LOGAN, holding Ororo’s hand, the bartender frozen in shock: “Think we could get another menu?” 

Jaw still on the floor, the bartender ever so slightly nods. 

We cut to a port, where Cyclops and Iceman are on a Frost International freighter, with Scott explaining his plan to catch the thief. The thief has specifically been targeting specific locations at specific locations where Mutant guards were posted. Tonight, Emma has taken all her employed Mutant security off the schedule and put the two of them on it. Additionally, she’s anonymously leaked to New York’s criminal underworld what valuables are hidden on this shipment. 

CYCLOPS, eating yogurt with a smile on his face: “From what we know about the thief, they won’t be able to resist the chance to show up two X-Men and steal them. And even if we aren’t prepared for their abilities, Emma’s just a mile away. Far enough to not be on the thief’s radar, but close enough to get a psychic lock on them.” 

ICEMAN, casually using his powers to make an ice conveyor belt to help the deckhands move heavy cargo around: “Not a bad plan. You know you’ve been smiling a lot lately, right?” 

CYCLOPS, yogurt in his mouth: “So?” 

ICEMAN: “So, now that you’ve actually learned how to chill, the next time we get into some time travel nonsense and probably meet you and Emma’s daughter from a post-apocalyptic future, I want you to go tell your teen self to not ride my ass so much.”

CYCLOPS: “I dunno. I think you turned out pretty okay.” 

ICEMAN, dusting off his hands as he finishes helping the crewmen: “I spent a year couch surfing and my entire life burying my trauma in denial of my real identity.” 

CYCLOPS: “Yeah. So you’ve done about as well as the rest of us.” 

ICEMAN, with a pained smile: “Jean’s gone and Warren’s dead. Only three of “us” left.” 

Scott’s smile fades and he apologizes for them not really having talked about this or having found time to mourn. The two of them should call Hank and do something.

SCOTT: “Maybe Ororo even put in a good word so he won’t hate me.” 

Bobby quietly laughs. Maybe. 

Scott asks if there’s something else on his mind. Bobby opens his mouth to answer but chooses to just tell Scott it’s nothing. He’s just been thinking about some stuff is all. Scott knows not to push and accepts this. 

A mile away in a restaurant, however, Emma taps her finger against her chin, listening in to their conversation and clearly wanting him to talk. 

Back at MIT, Monet and Roberto walk through the halls of the building where Roberto was giving his speech, Roberto winking and blowing kisses at all the girls they pass by who are clearly into him. 

Monet tells him she let him finish cleaning up like he requested. Now he needs to tell her why he’s here. 

MONET, telepathically: “Aren’t our communications meant to be secret?” 

BETO: “It would be a lot easier to keep them that way if your telepathy was strong enough for long distance.” 

MONET: “YOU do not get to talk to me about power.” 

Roberto faux-innocently raises his hands. He tells her he’s here because they need to discuss further investments. Da Costa International has grown fast - too fast. Without a massive influx of capital soon, it’s all going to fall apart. 

ROBERTO: “Call me naive for not planning ahead for this, but it’s not as if I’ve done this before.” 

He doesn’t expect another investment from Monet though. He just wants her to help him find new investors. Preferably ones with “certain ties” to their community.

MONET: “I thought that part of your plan was a poor joke.” 

ROBERTO: “We’re preparing for desperate times. That means desperate measures.” 

Monet sighs. She’ll see what she can do. Is that all? 

Roberto cheerfully steps in front of Monet and tells her there’s actually one more thing they need to discuss. 

MONET: “And what is that?” 

ROBERTO, smirking flirtatiously: “Where I’m taking you for dinner tonight.” 

Monet is surprised for a second, before smirking flirtatiously back at him. Roberto starts listing off possibilities, with Monet only chiming in to agree with how great each option sounds…only Roberto snaps back to reality to see he’s talking to himself, with people staring at him like he’s crazy. 

ROBERTO, awkwardly scratching the back of his head: ‘Ha ha. I’m just…um…practicing method acting?” 

Outside, Monet walks away from the building, smirking to herself. 

MONET: “How is that for weak telepathy? Ha ha. Good one, Monet.” 

At the bar, Logan and Ororo are sharing beers. Ororo has spent the last few weeks in England with Betsy, Rachel, and their family, wanting to look after Betsy in light of the years she and Warren had been together. Betsy insisted she was fine after the first couple days, but Storm stayed anyway. The others ended up dropping by too: Kurt, Pitor, Hank, Rogue and Remy. Lots of drinking, lots of stories, lots of laughs and tears. There was even a half-serious betting pool on how long it would take for Warren to come back. It was nice. Logan should have joined them. 

Logan admits that does sound pretty good, but he’s been working. Slim’s been having him work on trying to track down the monsters responsible for this. He’s got Madrox and his team working on this too, but so far they haven’t gotten anywhere. 

Logan also admits that he can’t help but wonder how things would be if the two of them had been runnings things like old times. From the start. Genosha and the Morlocks could maybe have been saved, the Horseman could have already been stopped…he still trusts Cyclops, against his better judgment, but…

ORORO: “But there is a reason I once ousted him.” 

Logan nods and drinks. Plus, he’s done a good job with Laura, but things outside her control have messed her up more than ever. He should be there for her. Ororo doesn’t think he needs to worry there, for now at least. Kitty has been sending her pictures and giving her updates as always, and she seems very happy with her new girlfriend. 

LOGAN: *Growls in protective dad* “Something about this whole Wind Dancer story doesn’t smell right.” 

ORORO: “Her story is no more strange, nor a miracle, than my own. The truth will be revealed in time. For now, be happy for Laura. Sofia is a good girl - an X-Man. And she’s wanted this for a long time.” 

Logan just growls again. Ororo, giggling, wraps her hand around Logan. Logan puts his beer down and takes her hand in his. 

LOGAN: “You’ve been taking care of everyone else, like always. You remembering to take care of yourself?” 

Ororo nods. As we see flashes of their dead bodies, Ororo speaks about how she cannot sleep without seeing the Morlocks. She was the leader of the most vulnerable Mutants, the ones most in need of protection, and she failed them. Not even by those who hate and fear mutants, but by the cruelest among them, who they are right to fear. 

STORM: “Were the storms still mine to command, I would find Exodus myself and make him suffer a thousand fold for each and every death.” 

LOGAN: “As if you need your powers to kick that bub’s ass.” Ororo dons a flattered smile as Logan looks as her lovingly. “You can take him, Magneto’s gonna want Pestillence, and I’ll take the head of whoever’s running this sick show now.” 

Logan spins around, stands up, and catches a knife that was about to go through his head. Ororo also leaps to her feet, drawing her new weapons, Callisto’s knives, as the scared bartender hides behind the bar. 

Akihiro, dressed like the other bar patrons, with a cowboy hat concealing his eyes, stands up from the table he’s been sitting at in the background this whole time. 

AKIHIRO: “That…is something I will never allow to happen.” 

Akihiro dramatically tosses his cowboy hat aside as he turns blue. 

LOGAN, sneering: “Unless Apocalypse recruited more than one Japanese man with a bad haircut, I’m guessing you’re Death.” 

AKIHIRO, grinning: “If you know that about me, then you know who else I am.” 

LOGAN: “I know you say you’re my kid.” Logan drops the knife and pulls out his claws. “And I don’t care.” 

AKIHIRO: “I wouldn’t have expected anything else.”

Akihiro pulls out his own claws as the two men stare each other down. This goes on until they, plus Ororo, rush toward each other. 

At night on the freighter, Scott is eating dinner with the deckhands. They’d like to hear some X-Men stories, or maybe some embarrassing things about Ms. Frost, but he’s only interested in eagerly talking their ears off about the connections between the histories of nautical and aeronautical development. 

DECKHAND #1, whispering as Scott rambles: “I’m so bored.” 

DECKHAND #2: “We all are, but I’m not gonna be the idiot to disrespect the boss’s man. Just smile and nod.” 

Outside, Iceman stands on a pillar of ice on the ocean. 

EMMA, telepathically: “Robert?” 

BOBBY, annoyed: “In the middle of keeping an eye out for YOUR thief.” 

EMMA, seated in a theater: “Then I’ll keep this brief. What’s troubling you?” 

Bobby, over-aggressively, insists there’s nothing wrong with him, but Emma reminds him of the obvious that he shouldn’t be lying to a telepath. Ever since his battle with Exodus, being around his mind has put butterflies in her stomach. 

Bobby aggressively brings up that “maybe” it has something to do with his best friend and the Morlocks being killed, but Emma counters that they’ve *all* been dealing with those losses; this is something else. Iceman mutters in frustration that he knows she won’t let this go. He explains he’s been thinking about his new identity, even reading about it. 

EMMA: “You? Reading?” 

BOBBY: “I did go to college, Emma.” 

EMMA: “So do liberal arts majors. Continue.” 

Iceman brings up how he was just at the school’s SGA, but, like, why do they need one of those? Why does a school dedicated to protecting a minority need a “safe space” for its minority members? Why don’t they feel safe with everyone else?

ICEMAN: “We’re all Mutants. We should all share the same fights. But we don’t.” 

Emma acknowledges she’s no expert in this regard either, and only went along with the club’s formation because Karma and Northstar wanted to start it, but if he wants to do more research and suggest changes they can implement to make their queer students feel more safe, the headmasters would of course be happy to listen to him. Bobby thanks her, but doesn’t seem too pleased with that response. He doesn’t think that’s enough. 

Before the conversation continues, Iceman is called out to by a gravely voice. 

Iceman turns around and sees a big, bald, stereotypical tough guy having flown up to him on jet boots. He smirks confidently. 

ICEMAN: “Emma, I think I’ve got our thief.”

EMMA: “I see him, but I can’t get in his mind. I also can’t imagine my security being bested so easily by this neanderthal. Watch yourself.” 

Bobby laughs that off. He beat Exodus, and he’s been asking Erik to spar with him. This guy’s gonna regret approaching him like this. 

We cut back to the inside of the ship, where the deckhands all laugh at a dad pun from Scott. One of the deckhands from before says to his friend that they deserve extra pay for keeping this guy happy, before he, Cyclops, and the others, are all frozen. Once again, we hear pre-pubescent laughter. 

Shortly later, Iceman wakes up on the floor, seeing the others having been frozen, and confused by what happened. 

EMMA, standing up and heading out of the theater, frustrated: “You lost, Robert. And I don’t have the faintest idea how…but I will.” 

On the quad at MIT at sunset, Monet quickly paces as she speaks on the phone, agreeing to certain things and telling the person she’s speaking to “No” about other matters. Monet eventually smiles as she tells the person she’s speaking to that that should cover everything; she looks forward to working with them. 

As she smugly hangs up, Theresa comes racing up to her from behind, calling out her name, and asking her to wait up. 

MONET: “You can fly, Siryn.”

THERESA: “Yes, but I try not to here. What are you in such a rush for? Not like you have anywhere to be.” 

MONET: “I’m Monet St. Croix. I don’t do anything slow. What do you want?”

Theresa asks Monet if she’s going to the party. Monet asks her if she hit her head or if there just isn’t much in it; they already had this conversation. 

THERESA, ready to rip Monet’s head off if she could: “Not the Alpha Phi party. Sunspot’s party!” 

Monet’s eye twitches. 

MONET: “His what?” 

Theresa explains that Beto booked out a trendy new club near campus and all the students are invited. He had her send out a blast on the school’s socials, but she knows Monet isn’t on any of those. He’s plugging it as a mixer where soon-to-be-grads can speak to him directly about job opportunities. 

Monet is more than a little peeved by him pulling a stunt like this when they’re supposedly in need of money but hides her contempt behind a stoic facade. She has two questions for Theresa: Why is she helping Beto, and why is she talking to her? 

SIRYN: “Don’t you know? Sunspot and I go way back. X-Force back. And I’m talking to you…” Siryn leans forward and whispers into M’s here. “Because he wants his partner helping him spot potential.” 

Monet’s eyes widen as Theresa steps back, smirking. 

MONET, mouth slightly opened, telepathically: “You work for him.” 

THERESA: “Technically, I work for both of you. Now come on! Let’s go get changed. Maybe you’ll be forced to make a friend.” 

Theresa walks off. Monet seems angry, but once Theresa is out of sight, her expression turns somber. 

At the bar, as the bartender and a few patrons cower in fear, Logan and Storm fight Death. Unlike Laura, both X-Men are more than capable of keeping up with the Horseman, the two fighting in perfect unison, Logan blocking all of Akihiro’s strikes, even if that means using his body as a shield so that Storm can slash him with her knives and, eventually, kick him back into a table. 

Akihiro laughs. Guess he can’t play around with his food too much this time. He retracts his claws and coughs the Muramasa blade up, the sword flying out of his mouth as he catches the handle in his hand. As he does this, both his and Logan’s wounds heal. Logan flinches at the sight of Death’s healing factor. 

AKIHIRO: “Ready to believe me…Father?” 

With Logan uncertain of what’s going on, Storm makes the next move before Death can. Faced off against his large blade with only knives, Storm moves with the grace of a dancer as she parries and dodges, seeking an opening. 

AKIHIRO: “Lady Akabba would be more than happy to return your weapon if you’d only kneel before her.” 

STORM: “I kneel to no one.” 

Storm manages to stab Akihiro in the heart. Logan jumps back in by feinting a punch, before kicking up a barstool and smacking Akihiro across the face with it. While Aki is hurt and falls over, he is able to slash Logan across the chest in retaliation. 

Logan bends over from the pain as blood gushes out. Aki snickers. 

AKIHIRO: “My sword, Muramasa, is no ordinary blade. If I so will it, it can kill anything. Even your Mutation cannot save you from it.” Storm comes to Logan’s side to check on him, as it becomes clear their current strategy isn’t getting them anywhere. “You know I get Sister not being interested in me. But do you really not care?” He sneers. “I suppose you care as little about me as you did about Itsu.” 

The mention of that name appears to hurt Logan more than the gaping wound in him. Storm is just confused. Who is Itsu? 

AKIHIRO: “Of course he wouldn’t mention her.” Aki stabs Muramasa in the floor and leans on it. “Maybe after you hear my story, goddess, you’ll realize you’re not standing among heroes.” 

Logan and Storm brace for whatever he’s about to say. 

In Emma’s car, she, Scott, and Bobby sit together in the back, embarrassed over their humiliating failure. Scott is being forced to sit away from the others because he’s still getting warmed up after being put on ice, and he’s sneezing frequently; Emma loves him, but not enough to tolerate sitting next to that. 

All three X-Men are confused. Bobby has no memory of what happened, all Scott saw was Iceman freezing him, and for Emma, one second she was clearly in Bobby’s mind, the next it was all fuzzy. 

ICEMAN: “I’m not saying I WANT a Horseman behind this, but it’d make it a lot less embarrassing than some two-bit thief.” 

Emma thinks that while they shouldn’t be assuming anything like that, they were clearly overconfident. They won’t fall prey to that trap again. 

EMMA: “Which I why the next move is to make ourselves the predators.”  

She wasn’t able to get a mental lock on the thief they encountered, or see into their mind, initially, but she was able to once Iceman attacked Cyclops, and that was just a powerless human. While that may scream possession, if this was someone with abilities similar to Malice, but without the restriction of needing to be accepted in, the thief could have gone straight for her. 

To dig further, she’s, as gently as possible, cut his mind open with a scalpel to look for any mental residue of what was done to him. And it wasn’t much, but she got something. Just the slightest taste of the mind behind all of this. And from that, although she can’t pinpoint the exact person, she has their location  Right now, they’re seemingly back home at a cheap apartment complex in Astoria. 

EMMA: “No doubt yucking it up at our expense while trying to find a buyer.” 

And only one person there has psychic defenses. So, that’s where they’re going now. 

SCOTT, sneezing: “If they’re just poor and desperate, maybe there’s a better way to handle this than a fight. You said yourself they’ve been deliberately stealing non-critical targets, and they’re probably a Mutant.” 

EMMA: “It’s about the disrespect. This thief has a bone to pick with me, and I intend to find out why, and punish them appropriately. In any case, in your condition, I wasn’t going to ask you to work anyway.” 

BOBBY: “No, you save that for the unions.” 

EMMA, more offended than she lets on: “Listen you.” 

Bobby laughs and tells them both not to worry. Get him to the apartment, point him to whoever’s got defenses, and he’ll decide if this is a mess to be cleaned up or if there’s a bad guy to beat. Emma and Scott both conceed this is fine. 

We cut to a club in Cambridge, where a loud party is raging with hundreds of attendees. Roberto is DJing, wearing exceptionally douchy sunglasses indoors, with multiple girls hanging off him. 

Monet and Theresa enter, both dressed to party, but while Theresa is excited by the turnout, and ready to have some fun since her work here is done, Monet is immediately uncomfortable. She moves forward slowly and hesitantly, with small steps and her arms held close to her body, as the lights, music, and people all bother her, something her face struggles to hide. 

Monet, struggling to find a place on the dance floor where she isn’t being bumped into, just flies over to a wall. 

MONET, telepathically: “I am never helping you again.” 

ROBERTO, telepathically: “What? Don’t like the party? Or is this about Siryn? It’s not like I planted her. She just happened to be where I needed her.” 

MONET: “Do not play. Why are you messing with me?” 

ROBERTO: “I’m not messing with you. But I do like playing.” 

We cut to Roberto, making out with one of the girls from before. 

ROBERTO: “Hate me all you want, but don’t punish the baby. Now help me find candidates. I’m very busy with a particularly promising one as is.” 

Monet rolls her eyes and forces herself back into the crowd with the riff raff. Roberto meanwhile asks the girl he’s making out with for her name. 

With flashback visuals shown, Akihiro tells Storm and Logan his story. As a baby, he was left on the doorstep of a kind couple, one who couldn’t have kids of their own, in a small village in Japan. Growing up, he didn’t know who his parents were, his adoptive parents were the only ones he needed, but he did curse whichever one of them was a foreigner. The clear mixed nature of his birth made him an outcast, disregarded by the adults, and tormented constantly by his peers. 

AKIHIRO: “Daken, they’d call me.” 

He was insulted. He was beaten. His only comfort was that his parents loved him. But he didn’t even truly have that. 

AKIHIRO: “I have more weapons than just those I inherited from you, Father.”  Logan and Storm gasp as they turn their claws and knives on each other, slightly cutting each other’s necks. “Pheremones. They can make you do crazy things. They make you putty in my hand. And no mental defenses can help you.” 

Unfortunately, as a child, he didn’t have control over this power. And, as he overheard one night, his father had put together that he and his mother only loved him when he was around. 

AKIHIRO: “I believe I handled the situation from there well. I killed my father, was banished from the village that hated me so, and when my mother chased after me to assure me she loved me, I killed her too. Not too poor emotional maturity for a nine year old.” 

Logan and Storm try to open their mouths to say something, but all they can do under Akihiro’s pheremones is grit their teeth, pant, and wait. 

Aki explains that he wandered for a bit after that. He’d found his claws when he killed his mother, and it didn’t take too much longer to figure out the pheremones, at least the basics, and with him being the unacceptable mongrel he was, it only made sense to use these weapons to keep killing. He took assasination work where he could find it, training on his own to better use his weapons, and at age 12, he was recruited by The Hand. 

AKIHIRO: “That didn’t last too long though. After only a few months, I was “Purchased”. By a man named Romulus.” 

Logan tries to scream, but he still can’t open his mouth. Akihiro laughs. Yes, they do know each other, don’t they?

AKIHIRO: “Ogun too, right? He wasn’t around all that often, but he did help Romulus forge this…soulful blade.” 

Logan is able to start shaking his body just a little in rage. 

Romulus…was a bastard. He never knew much about him, other than he was powerful enough that the world’s deadliest assassins feared his name, and he rarely spoke to him. Romulus spoke to HIM plenty though. Reminding him what a monster he was as he trained him day and night. Akihiro had thought he’d become strong, even among the Hand, he’d trained and worked alongside elites, but Romulus put him in his place. He beat him, not fought him, and when he got up, Romulus would beat him back down. 

AKIHIRO: “An endless, vicious cycle of suffering. One I was welcome to leave at any time. But one thing drove me to stay: the truth. The truth that you, Father, had killed my mother and abandoned me.” 

LOGAN: “That’s not!--”

Is all Logan is able to get out against the effects of the pheremones. Akihiro tells him to spare him; he won’t fall for his lies. Not when he has another, far wiser, source. 

We cut to a spacious, two-bedroom apartment. It isn’t a great place, but it’s been refurbished, and has clearly been decorated by a kid, with big, bright colors, video game and anime merch all over the place, and a big sound system. There’s also assorted, partially-dismantled weapons and tech all over the place. 

The sound of a first person shooter being played is heard as we pan across the apartment. Finally, we see the thief, an average sized, brown-haired 14 year-old, seated on the couch playing video games in an oversized Dazzler nightshirt, eating chips. Notably for comic fans, they DON’T look like anyone from the comics. They call out for “Morgan” to come back them up. They’re getting killed out here! 

“You have been antagonizing a former supervillain, so you really should be prepared for that.” 

“Huh?!” 

Condensation on the thief’s mountain dew bottle leaps off the surface and forms into Iceman, who immediately freezes them up to their head. 

ICEMAN: “Soooo, you’re a kid. I lost to a kid. Surge and Hellion are gonna love that one. How about you cut me a break and make this easy by telling me what’s going on.” 

The thief’s face cycles through various expressions of fear and excitement, until they sneer. 

THIEF: “Dude…I think you just broke my stuff..” 

In a flash, the thief and Bobby switch places. Bobby, in his human form, is trapped in a block of ice and put in a daze. The thief meanwhile stands where Iceman was just a moment ago, now in their own ice form. 

THIEF: “Oh, this is SO cool! Pun DEFINITELY intended!” 

The thief hums that if Iceman is here, then Cyclops and Emma Frost are probably close by too. 

THIEF: “I should go say hi.” The thief enthusiastically conjures some snowballs and pelts Bobby in the face with them. “After I have some fun.” 

The thief heads out the window, thinking they should go show these powers to Morgan and let him know they’re okay, since that jerk broke their phone and headset. 

THIEF: “What kinda superhero doesn’t respect someone’s personal property?” 

They make an icebridge in midair, having fun riding it around like a slip and slide as they build more and more of it. They make a note to themselves that this would make a great VR game. 

The fun doesn’t last too long, however, as they’re blasted out of the sky by Cyclops’ optic beams, falling and being caught by Emma, via telekinesis. They’re dragged over through the air to Emma and a wrapped up Scott, panicking that “I’m not ready yet!”. 

EMMA: “No.” 

Sensing that the kid is about to use their powers again, now right in front of them, Emma is able to hit their mind with a blunt force she doesn’t usually like using to stop them from using their powers. 

THIEF: “Ugggh. I don’t feel so good.” 

Emma tells the thief she doesn’t like hurting children, but this one clearly sees her as an enemy. 

EMMA: “You have been an irritating thorn in my side for long enough, but that ends tonight. I do not care if your parent is a disgruntled former employee of mine, if you're Shaw’s method of exacting mild revenge, or if you’re just a thrillseeker who wrongfully believed I made an easy target. I just want to know who you are before I decide what consequences await you.” 

The thief’s face is filled with terror, but only for a moment, before the brightest smile and widest eyes take its place. 

THIEF: “I…am your biggest fan.” 

SCOTT & EMMA: “HUH?!” 

Back at the party, Roberto has taken to the dance floor and is showing off to the students, moving with the grace of a ballerina. Some of the kids are into it and the kind of “cool boss” they want, while others find him cringe and are just playing along. 

As he gets off the dance floor, he’s approached by Theresa who asks him where that came from. 

ROBERTO: “Three years of Ms. Hunter’s ballet classes paid off.” 

THERESA: “Who?” 

ROBERTO: “Before your time.” 

The two grunt twice, puffing out their chests, make X’s with their arms and shout, “X-FORCE!” 

The two laugh over their old chant. 

THERESA: “Why DID Cable have us doing that? And where even is the old guy these days?”

ROBERTO: ‘Both very good questions that I do not have answers to.” 

As Roberto grabs a drink, he thanks Theresa for her help tonight. Theresa tells him not to mention it. If it were anyone else, she’d feel a little bad about messing with someone like this, but also…it’s Monet. 

THERESA: “What’s all this about anyway?” 

Roberto just flashes a smile. Theresa, annoyed, just nods and accepts that one. 

THERESA: “I’m taking your word for it that you’re still one of the good guys. Please don’t let me down.” 

ROBERTO, taking her hands: “Theresa Cassaday, I promise that I am just as much a hero as ever.” 

Theresa seems won over, saying she knows. Now, why doesn’t he try teaching her to dance like him? 

ROBERTO: “Sure thing. But don’t blame me if you end up looking more like Sam.” 

We flashback to the past for the conclusion to Akihiro’s story, where an 18 year-old Aki is sparring Romulus, on the bookfoot, but after six years of training, managing to hold his own against the ancient master. At least until Romulus runs him through with a sword and breaks his neck. 

 ROMULUS: “Tt. Look at you. All that passion. All that natural potential. And still…just…Daken.” 

Akihiro snaps his neck back into place and demands that he not be called that. Romulus responds by questioning why he’d prefer the name given to him by parents who hated him. Daken is who he is. Daken is what he is. 

ROMULUS: “But perhaps that’s why you’re still not ready to face Logan.” 

Akihiro gets up, claws out, and moves in to strike Romulus. Romulus is prepared to counter, when a wave of energy crashes through the house they’re in, annhilating Romulus, while avoiding Akihiro. 

Akihiro stands stunned in silence at the death of the only man he’s known for a third of his life. Through the smoke, enters Apocalypse. Aki stands ready to fight, but he’s also smart enough to still be clearly afraid of the guy who just did THAT. 

AKIHIRO: “Who are you? Why did you kill my master?!” 

Apocalypse says nothing as he slowly marches toward him. Aki tries using his pheremones, but they have no effect on the modified External. Eventually, Apocalypse reaches him. 

APOCALYPSE: “Because, son of Wolverine, you deserve better.” 

Akihiro is confused as Apocalypse puts a hand on his shoulder. Apocalypse tells him who he is, and what he seeks. He then tells him that there are more Mutants walking the Earth today than there have been in thousands of years. It should be the duty of the few elders to properly nurture and educate the strong among the youthful masses. And yet, be it pacifist fools like Charles Xavier, or thuggish brutes like Romulus, each and every one is a failure. 

APOCALYPSE: “You seek strength. You require guidance. In exchange for your loyalty, I can grant you both. When we are done, you will have the power to end your father’s life. And the world will be ours.” 

A nervous Akihiro tells Apocalypse he has no idea what he’s talking about, but strong as he is, Romulus was right about him. Everyone in his life has been right. Apocalypse should look elsewhere. 

Apocalypse laughs. He still values the opinions of humans? Of the dead? He still stands, he still lives, he is strong. Apocalypse does not make mistakes. 

APOCALYPSE: “You are not Daken. But you can be something new.” 

AKIHIRO: “And what’s that?” 

APOCALYPSE, grinning: “What you are the best at.” 

After another moment of trepidation, Akihiro smirks and shakes Apocalypse’s hand. 

In the present, Akihiro somberly laments his life. Abandoned, betrayed, sold, tortured. Only to finally be given a home. A place where he was safe, and happy, and made stronger than ever. They may not recognize him as family anymore than Logan, but in all the ways that matter, he finally had a true father. And a true sister. 

 Akihiro cackles, perking back up to his normal self. He just LOVES the shock and pain in Logan’s eyes right now, as if he’s even capable of guilt. Or maybe he is! Still far, far too late. 

AKIHIRO: “The only thing I still want to know is why. Why did you kill my mother?” 

LOGAN, his jaw free to speak: “I’m sorry.” Akihiro scoffs. “No, not for killing her. Because I can tell you wouldn’t believe me if I told you I didn’t.” 

Akihiro growls and rushes to decapitate Logan with Muramasa, the blade shining, but he’s shocked as Logan catches the blade in his claws. 

AKIHIRO: “What?!” 

LOGAN: “Every cell in our bodies can regenerate. I’m guessing neither of the bubs who raised you taught you to do it on command. And they’re regenerating faster than the pheremones can reach them.” 

Logan sends Akihiro flying with a right-hook. WIth him knocked to the floor and distracted, Storm is able to regain control of herself as well. 

STORM, impressed: “When did YOU learn how to do that?” 

LOGAN: “I’ll introduce you to the guy that taught me if you can put up with lots of bad jokes.” 

The two don’t have any longer to talk, as one of the bar patrons runs up to them as is nearly killed by their claws and knives. The two are able to avoid him, but the bartender and all the other patrons have stood up, and are ready to try the same thing. 

Akihiro, controlling them all, says this isn’t over yet. 

Back in New York, a confused Emma asks the thief to elaborate.

The thief laughs nervously. They can't believe this is really happening. Just one sec! 

In another flash, Bobby appears in front of Scott and Emma, the thief gone. He's disoriented and a little woozy. 

A moment later, the thief comes flying out of the apartment on jet boots, landing in front of the three X-Men. 

THIEF: “Okay, so, my name is Escapade. Aaand, I have looked up to you for so long. I'm a Mutant, obviously, but I'm also a thief. A pretty dang good one for a kid, I'd say. And I thought, since you used to be a supervillain, and I'm kinda a supervillain, I could impress you by stealing from you. You know, showing that I'm better than everyone you employ…and two of the coolest X-Men, apparently! Like, I totally owned them both!” Escapade cringes. “Did it work?” 

Emma takes a moment to respond as she sneers. 

EMMA: “Leaving aside the numerous questions we still have, while I can commend your taste, your actions reek of arrogance, desperation, and a lack of foresight. I'm afraid, young man, that I still have no choice but to–”

ESCAPADE: “Young lady.”

EMMA: “Hmm?”

ESCAPADE: “You said “young man.” My real name is Shela Sexton. I'm a girl.” 

The gears turn in Emma’s mind and her eyes light up, as a grin spreads across her face. 

EMMA, with a complete change in tone: “Well, I suppose I can hardly fault an ambitious young woman for being a little rash, especially one with the talent you've shown.” 

BOBBY: “Is she serious right now?”

SCOTT, smiling knowingly: “Oh yeah.”

SHELA: “ohmygodEmmaFrostcalledmetalented.”

EMMA: “Very. Now, why don't we take this conversation somewhere a bit nicer so we can learn all about you and your abilities, Escapade?”

SHELA: “Yes! Yes, of course!”

BOBBY: “I don't get it. Does she hate men that much, or does she just really support women?” 

SCOTT, holding back laughter: “Keep guessing.” 

Emma reaches out a hand to Shela. Shela, excited but nervous, takes it, as they all get into Emma’s car. 

Back at the party, Monet takes in everyone laughing and drinking and having fun, and anxiously tries to decide who she should approach - and how. 

Monet turns around and finds one of the young men who’d tried getting her to sit with his friends earlier in the day. He tells her she isn’t an easy person to talk to. Not on social media, almost never going to campus events, always running back to her room after class. 

GUY: “Why hide such a pretty face?” 

Monet weakens and softens a little, clearly attracted, 

MONET: “I…don’t.” 

GUY: “Huh?” 

MONET, shaking her head: “Never mind.” 

The guy takes the awkwardness in stride, and asks her if she’d like to come hang out with him and his friends. They’ve heard the stories, and they want to know how many of them are true. 

MONET: “If they’re tales of my successes, they’re true. If no, I assure you they’re falsehoods.” 

The guy laughs loving that confidence. Monet seems to get a little more confident, as she says she’d love to join them. She’s actually working for Roberto and is helping him scout new employees - is that something they’d be interested in? 

The guy remains polite, but is a little offput. They’re really just here for the drinks and to have a good time, not the job opportunities. He’s actually planning on starting his own startup next year. Get around having to work for guys like Da Costa. Monet asks him what he means, with the guy quick to list off the many crimes and scandals of Emmanuel Da Costa. 

Monet raises an eyebrow, and says that while Roberto is a pompous, arrogant, disrespectful idiot with delusions of grandeur, he isn’t his father. The guy tells her she doesn’t need to defend her boss, there’s not judgement here for taking the job. These people are the same. 

MONET: “These people?” 

GUY: “You know what I’m talking about.” 

MONET: “It sounds like you’re talking about me.” 

GUY: “I didn’t mean it that–” 

MONET: “I’m sorry that I don’t drink, because I would love to throw one in your face right now. I’ll just have to settle for this.” 

Monet’s eyes glow red, and she makes the guy telepathically imagine he’s having a drink thrown in his face. 

Monet stomps off, muttering to herself how this happens, “every time”, and approaches the bar. 

MONET: “You. Do you have any apples? I need something to crunch on.” 

BARTENDER, surprised: “Actually, yes. We don’t usually, but a whole bag of them was left in the kitchen and we–” 

MONET, intensely: “Get me one.” 

The bartender holds his hands up defensively, and walks off to the kitchen. Monet taps her foot as she sets her eyes on a group of bombshell Alpha Phi girls, sitting together and skipping their own party in favor of this one. After getting her apple and taking a bite, she braces herself, and forces herself to don an awkward smile, Monet walks up to them. 

Monet, doing her best attempt at what she thinks sorority girls talk like, gives a weak, fake compliment of their near identical blonde, straight hair, and informs them that she’s been asked to help Mr. Da Costa pick out applicants, already working for him. 

MONET: “Would any of you…bitches?...be interested?” 

 There’s an awkward pause, before the sorority girls all start laughing. 

SORORITY: “We are definitely interested, but, like…who are you?” 

Monet introduces herself, giving her full name, and tries to continue pitching, only to be cut off by the girls as they all start mimicking her accent, incorrectly pronouncing her last name, and trying to guess how it’s spelled. 

Monet clenches her fist in frustration at this, as teeny, tiny red spikes come out of her hand. Taking a breath, and forcing herself to keep smiling, she retracts the spikes, as the girls apologize for interrupting and ask her to continue. 

MONET: “Actually…I believe I’ve seen enough.” 

Monet stomps off, once again, but the spikes start coming back out as frustration and stress overwhelm Monet. Seething, she superspeeds over to Roberto, who’s in the middle of teaching Theresa to dance, and shoves him to the floor. She’s done here. And with him. 

Monet superspeeds off, tears in her eyes, as Roberto gets up and apologizes to Theresa; he’s going to have to cut this party short. 

Back at the bar, Logan and Death fight one-on-one. Despite Akihiro weilding the Muramasa blade, and Logan already being severely injured, Logan still has the upper hand. 

Meanwhile, Storm is attacked by the pheromone-controlled bartender and patrons, all of whom chant, “Kill Me”, with Ororo forced to fight defensively to avoid hurting, or killing, any of them. 

Akihiro gives a brief monologue, echoing Apocalypse’s words to him, about who the real Mutants trying to save the world are. Because it isn’t the X-Men. Who are they? The weak, the compromising, the unfaithful, the unholy, the manipulated children, and those who stand atop humanity’s own institutions, infected by their corruption. Only Lady Akabba understands what is best for their people! 

STORM, knocking out a man as painlessly as she can: “I said I do not kneel. Did I stutter?” 

Logan tells Akihiro that he isn’t going to explain himself; just from what Aki’s said, he can see, he can feel, how poisoned his mind has been. 

LOGAN: “What I can do is say I’m sorry for letting this happen. And promise you I’ll get you out of this.” 

Logan talking down to him only pushes Akihiro over the edge, screaming and swinging at him wildly. Storm, in the process of dodging broken beer bottles, bar stools, and a pool cue, wants to jump in, but Logan tells her there’s no need. 

AKIHIRO, attacking: “No need? No need?! How dare you! I am Death! Hand elite! Apprentice of Romulus! Horseman of Apocalypse!” 

Logan catches Akihiro’s sword in his hand, even as it slices it wide open. 

LOGAN, to a shocked Death: “Yeah, I’ve been trained by some of those guys too.” Logan hits Akihiro across the face with a right hook, sending him flying back into a wall. He slumps over on the floor. “And I’m a lot older than you.” 

The brainwashed men all fall over unconscious, as Storm catches her breath and approaches Logan. 

STORM: “Not a terrible workout. How much of what he said was true?” 

LOGAN: “Enough. He is mine.” 

Akihiro pants, struggling to pick himself back up. 

AKIHIRO: “No…not…YOURS!” 

Akihiro’s eyes glow and, in an instant, Logan is reduced to a pile of dust. Storm freaks out, launching her knives at Death, but he knocks them aside with his sword. 

AKIHIRO, with venom: “Don’t worry. He’s still alive. He can heal from that. I have.” He points Muramasa at Storm. “When he wakes up, tell him I’ll be waiting for a rematch.” 

Storm cannot do anything but glare as Akihiro runs off, and the dust slowly starts clumping together. 

We cut to a fancy restaurant, where Emma, Scott, Bobby, and Shela are all seated, dressed appropriately. Shela bounces in her seat with excitement, fawning over the dress Emma got for her. 

SHELA, nervously shrinking as she notices people looking at her: “I think people are staring.” 

EMMA: “Darling, you’re with me; of course they’re staring.” 

Shela giggles. 

The teachers prompt Shela to tell them her story while they look over the menu, which Shela agrees to do. Shela explains how she was a pretty normal kid growing up, and then when she was 5, she turned out to be a Mutant. It took her a few years to understand what her powers actually were though. She can “Swap Circumstances” with people. Location, powers, knowledge, skills, you name it. She even assumes your “position” in the world, while whoever she swapped with is left in a daze, powerless. Plus, as a side effect from how much she’s used the power, her mind’s pretty cluttered, so most telepaths can’t really touch her. 

BOBBY: “That’s…insane.” 

SCOTT: “Says the man who can freeze time.” 

BOBBY: “You need to stop being quippy right now because it’s really starting to bug me.” 

Emma is enthused by the potential of Shela’s abilities, and questions why she bothers with all the technology - and where she obtained it. Shela scratches the back of her head and admits her power has a lot of restrictions. Can’t swap with more than two people at once, there’s a limit on each swap, she has to be within pretty close range to swap with someone, 

SHELA: “Plus, I wouldn’t call myself an expert with it. Taken a lot of practice to get as good as I am. Soooo, I use the villain tech I steal. Mutants aren’t the only game in town, and there are tons of buyers for this stuff. It’s win-win.”

Cyclops can’t say he approves of her lifestyle, but he isn’t about to judge considering the one big, remaining question: Who IS she? 

Shela sighs. When she came out as a Mutant, her parents were totally cool with it. They’re actually big fans of Dazzler.  Life went on. Then when she was 12, she realized she was Shela. Her parents didn’t accept that. Emma and Bobby’s faces fall, all too familiar with this tale. Shela goes on to say that, after she was kicked out of her house, she was on the street for a bit until she was found by an awesome woman named Jessie who got her into a support group she ran for other trans Mutant kids - ones with nowhere to go. She learned a lot about herself there, met her best bud Morgan, and, yeah, even learned a little about the criminal scene some of them were a part of to survive, and getting into being a thief from there. And thanks to being a thief, she’s been able to cut a decent little life for herself, help provide for everyone else in the group, and, you know, start really becoming herself. 

SHELA, to Emma: “It’s where I learned all about you. When I decided I wanted to be just like you. Obviously still working on that. That’s why I wanted to impress you, but didn’t want to reveal myself just yet. Not till I was more me ” 

Scott is happy for the kid, while Emma remains intrigued and impressed, praising Shela for what she’s been able to accomplish despite her circumstances, and telling her she thinks she’s moving along toward her goals and being herself just fine. Iceman is confused though. Why are there a bunch of homeless Mutant kids? The school is open to all. 

SHELA, sipping a shirley temple: “The Xavier Institute wasn’t even publicly for Mutants until four years ago. And even when it was…for most of us, being Mutants wasn’t the problem. There isn’t a lot of faith that the X-Men are any better. Jessie REALLY hates you guys.” 

While Bobby is visibly struck by this, Scott promises Shela that the Jean Grey School is, genuinely, welcome to all Mutants. They have a diverse student body, and even some girls like her. 

CYCLOPS: “Kinda.” 

Shela shakes her head. That’s great and all, but just look at who the X-Men are. None of them could ever really understand them. 

Emma can barely contain her laughter as she lights Shela’s eyes up blue. 

SHELA: “HUH?!!!” 

SCOTT: “Aaaaand now, people really are staring.” 

SHELA: “You’re…but I thought…how…huh?!” 

BOBBY: “What’s going on?” 

Emma rolls her eyes and lights Bobby’s eyes up too. 

BEAT.

BOBBY: “Get the Hell out.” 

Emma tells Shela that she can more than understand her. If her friends don’t wish to come to the school, that’s their choice, but they should know that they will be looked after and cared for if they do. 

EMMA: “The world is scary and hard and full of hate.” Scott puts an arm around her. “But you won’t find those who love and accept you unless you’re willing to take risks.” 

Bobby seems to be just as attentive to Emma’s words as Shela. 

Emma has an offer for Escapade. Come enroll in the school and get caught up on her studies, which she’s sure she’s horribly behind on, and finish the current semester with them. By next year, her current squad will all be ready to be X-Men; she will then be able to give Escapade her full attention. 

SHELA, in awe: “I think I’m dreaming.” She slaps herself with both hands. “No. No I’m not.” 

EMMA: “You’ve done well for your friends, Escapade, but now I offer you a chance to fight for your people - all of your people.” 

Shela looks at each of the kind X-Men, before enthusiastically cheering “YES!” 

Scott and Emma cheer as well, happy to have her, as the waiter comes by. Emma tells him to bring the secret specials; they’re celebrating. 

Shela, mouth moving as a mile a minute, talks about how excited and insane this all is, Scott and Emma amused, as Bobby looks away in contemplation. 

Monet sits alone in her dorm room, curled up in a ball on her bed, not having changed out of her club outfit. She’s pouting and distressed, watching children’s cartoons (it’s not shown explicitly for legal reasons, but she’s clearly watching Bluey). 

There’s a knock on the door. Monet shouts at Thesea to give her some privacy, but…

ROBERTO: “Sorry. Not Terry. May I please come in?” 

MONET: “Absolutely not.” 

ROBERTO: “I brought apples. Well, I brought them back from the bar. I knew they’re your favorite so I made sure they were stocked.” 

Monet is visibly surprised by the gesture, and softly tells Beto to make whatever he has to say quick. Beto enters, juggling three apples, before tossing them all over to M, who sits up and effortlessly catches them. 

Beto wanted to come check on her and see what happen at the party. Monet tells him it’s none of his business, but Beto counters that since she just quit and he’ll go bankrupt and likely get punched in the face by Kitty without her, it very much is his business. 

ROBERTO: “And even if it wasn’t, you can’t stop me from worrying.” 

Monet sighs. It was nothing. She just didn’t like the way he was toying with her. And then… She trails off, grumbling, before continuing. 

MONET: “Genetically, I am perfection. But people are more than genetics.” 

Socially, she’s never been a butterfly. Always being standoffish and turning people away with her attitude for one, but also generally struggling when isn’t just putting on her polite manners for show. Back when she was in school, Beast thought she could be Autistic, but, for personal reasons, she never saw a specialist about it. 

Beto admits he had no idea. He wouldn’t have tossed her into the position if he’d known. He’d just thought she struggled with making friends and wanted to help her. That’s why he pushed Theresa toward trying to spend time with her, and why he did ALL of this tonight as a mingling opportunity she could control. 

BETO: “I admit…I can get a little ahead of myself with my plans.” 

MONET: “You…did this all for me?” 

Beto sits down and explains like its obvious. Monet could have graduated from college early and immediately started her own amazingly successful business, while also being instantly welcomed onto the X-Men, because they’d be fools to say no, but she chose to put her faith in him. And that means a lot. 

Monet is stunned, and actually smiles - but doesn’t thank him. She continues to say that she isn’t the only problem. It’s everyone else. 

MONET: “I grew up largely isolated. On my own or with my family. Then with Generation X, I had Chamber, Husk, Skin, the idiot, and…Everett. But now I’m in the real world. Not in a familial or X-shaped bubble.” 

SUNSPOT: “And you’re not a fan?” 

MONET: “And there are so few like me.” 

This isn’t even about she and Theresa being the only Mutants on campus. It’s about the girls of her class here being vapid idiots, and American racial politics putting her in a position where the people who look like her think she’s evil and should lose everything she has just because she was born rich. By race or by class, she’s alone. By species too, really. There’s a reason she left the superhero life behind. Maybe she overreacted a little earlier, but the onus shouldn’t be on her to adapt to them.

MONET: “I’m sure this doesn’t make any sense to you. You’re in the same position, but you have no difficulty making everyone love you.” 

Roberto laughs. She should know what they say about assuming. 

ROBERTO: “It’s only a good idea if you’re a precog.” 

Monet giggles. 

Beto tells her how, before all of this, he was a football player in Brazil. Naturally, a very talented one. Largely surrounded by the palest teammates and competitors you can imagine, but he never thought that mattered. Until one day it did. Things got ugly. He got his powers, becoming slightly more awesome than he already was. 

BETO, obviously lying: “And that was the end of that miserable day. I joined the school shortly after.” 

Still, it didn’t matter if it was Brazil or America, the types of people he was surrounded by were largely the same. Not the biggest deal, he loves his family. But he also never bothered with an environment like this. And he can understand how isolating it may be. 

The sadness underneath Roberto’s smile is evident, but M is clueless as to what to say. So, she changes things up a little. 

MONET: “I don’t need this place. It doesn’t deserve me. Allow me to move to France and control our day to day operations. You know I will be more effective than the drones you’ve been using.” 

BETO, smirking: “One condition.” Monet looks at him, waiting. “You agree to lunch every weekend. So you aren’t all alone.” 

Monet giggles again. And she forcefully grips Beto’s hands. 

MONET: “It’s a date.” 

Beto grins back at her, as the two lean in and kiss each other. The two continue kissing as Monet rolls onto her back, allowing Roberto to get on top of her, Beto already moving to take his suit jacket off. 

MONET: “Wait.” Beto instantly stops. “I’ve never done this before. Go slow.” 

BETO, smiling at peace, nods: “As you wish.” 

We pan away as the two begin to make love. 

In Lady Akabba’s throneroom, Exodus and Malice laugh at a pissed Akihiro. He barks back at them to knock it off. 

MALICE: “All that grumbling about how much you hate Daddy, and you couldn’t even kill him.” 

EXODUS: “This is what we get for working with a Beta.” 

AKIHIRO, getting up close in Exodus’ face: “Beta or Omega, I wouldn’t need any powers to kill you.” 

EXODUS: “Of course you wouldn’t. That’s what you have your big, long sword for, isn’t it?” 

AKIHIRO: “Exactly, and unlike some people, I’m not afraid to use mine.” 

With a tilt of her head, Malice sends Akihiro flying back against a wall. 

MALICE, standing confident with Exodus: “You’ve been War’s pet since Lord Apocalypse fell. Do you think she’ll appreciate your efforts?” EXODUS: “Or will that heartless witch put her little Daken down?” 

The two snicker over the idea of Lady Akabba killing Akihiro. Death gets even more pissed, shaking with rage and prepared to attack, when a flash of pink light engulfs the room. 

Accompanied by a bowing Lila Cheyney, Lady Akkaba appears from the light. Sofia didn’t have time to change before this, so she enters her evil lair dressed in a cropped sweater and jeans, still attempting to appear in control through her posture and expressions, regardless. If nothing else, Famine and Pestillence do silence themselves. 

SOFIA: “Leave us.” 

Exodus and Malice are fine with this order, smirking at Akihiro on their way over to Lila, who teleports the three of them away, leaving only Sofia and Aki. 

Akihiro kneels, but, as Sofia turns blue, she immediately tells him to get up; there’s no need for airs right now. 

AKIHIRO, smirking: “I haven’t seen you dressed like that in a long time, my lady. It’s cute.” 

SOFIA, smiling: “You never…how long were you stalking me before we spoke?” 

Death cackles, with Sofia giggling and shaking her head along. 

SOFIA: “I see. Now…what happened?” 

Akihiro, ashamed, gives the honest truth. He challenged his father and Storm, and, despite his strength, his multiple weapons, and the Muramasa blade, he was outclassed, and only escaped with some semblance of victory through the power of Death - something his father will recover from. 

AKIHIRO: “You trusted me to eliminate those who Lord Apocalypse feared most. And I failed.” He holds out the Muramasa blade. “If you wish to claim it, my life is yours.” 

Sofia glares at Akihiro, Akihiro standing stalwart and brave in the face of potential death. Until Sofia laughs. 

SOFIA: “Don’t be so over-dramatic.” 

Akihiro is confused as Sofia saunters over to her throne. Is it an annoying set-up back that he failed? Yes. Bur she hardly expected him to succeed on his own. There is a REASON Apocalypse feared his father and Storm. Even with one’s relatively minimal strength, and the other not even needing her weapon to be strong, they, more than anyone else, always found a way to win. 

SOFIA, sitting down and crossing her legs: “I allowed you to attempt this because it is personal to you. Because Logan deserves to pay for what he has done. I never expected you to win.” 

Akihiro takes the ego blow, but nods along. He points out that maybe Selene had a point about her being soft; Lord Apocalypse would have certainly killed him for this. 

Sofia narrows her eyes, and blows herself back over to Akihiro on the winds. 

SOFIA: “Do you really believe that?” 

AKIHIRO: “Of course. Failure is the greatest sign of weakness.” 

SOFIA: “That is true. But it is equally true that Apocalypse loves his family. That is what this is all about.” 

AKIHIRO: “I’m not–” 

SOFIA: “Hush. Exodus and Malice are mere servants. Ones we will eventually do away with. I am Apocalypse’s heir, but you are also his child. The only difference between us is that my biological predecessors were homo-sapiens. Your father is a Mutant, a strong one, and, despicable as he is, that means something to Apocalypse. But we are both his children. Father loves us both.” 

Akihiro cheers up and thanks his lady. He’s honored by her words. He then points out that if she sees him as a brother, then what does that make her relationship with Laura. 

SOFIA, amused: “Necessary.” 

As Sofia blows her lightning-bolt shaped sword off the wall and into her hand, she tells Akihiro that he will be the king of the new world. And he will earn that role. 

SOFIA: “You will fight your father again. And you will kill him.” She points her sword at his neck. “When I was at my weakest, it was you who found me. You who brought me here. You who guided me to my inner strength. Now, I shall pay it back. I will make you as strong as you need to be.” 

Akihiro nods with excitement, readying Muramasa. 

AKIHIRO: “Thank you, my lady. I am ready.” Dramatic music swells. “But perhaps you should consider getting changed first.” 

Sofia is stunted for a second, looking over her outfit. The two laugh together. 

Back at Shela’s apartment building, Escapade is scurrying around the place packing, excitedly chattering on a new phone to Morgan about how she’s going to live with the X-Men. “No, not the mean ones!” 

Outside in the hallway, Scott, Emma, and Bobby wait for her, all happy with how this has worked out. Their “thief problem” was never really a problem, they’ve got a promising new student, and they get to give a kid who desperately needs a real one a home. Emma adds that she’ll be looking into the rest of this support group Shela belongs to. They obviously won’t make them come to the school, but she and Shela can ideally at least allieve them of their fears. 

Scott cracks a joke about the idea of Emma making children less scared, which Emma just nudges him for, but Bobby has a stronger reaction to know. He wants to know what’s up with Scott that’s got him so smiley and jokey lately. Their situation hasn’t gotten better, hell, it’s only gotten progressively worse, so why now is he like this? Where’s the drill sergeant he grew up with? 

Scott shrugs and tells him he didn’t even realize he was acting differently, but he’s definitely been feeling better. And not just because he sleeps every night next to the most gorgeous woman in the world. Yes, things haven’t been going the X-Men or Mutantkind’s way. But that’s because, for most of that time, he was doing things the Professor’s way. Now? He’s finally found himself. And regardless of anything else, that makes him the happiest he’s ever been. And it makes him confident about the future. 

Bobby processes this, happy for him, and guessing that makes sense. 

BOBBY: “Okay. I got it.” Bobby smiles at the two. “I’m leaving the X-Men.” 

Scott and Emma are both shocked, with Emma demanding an explanation. Bobby reminds her what he’s been thinking about. About his identity. About both parts of his identity. Their school for Mutants is one where those who are different even among the other kids still need their own place to feel safe. It’s one Shela and her friends never felt safe coming to. And he gets it. He’s met Mutants with problems with people like them…people like himself. 

EMMA: “And you believe you will make the school safer for them by leaving?” 

BOBBY: “No, I’m leaving that to you guys. I’m leaving because I want to close that gap. So long as I’m with the X-Men, I’m a Mutant first, to some, a Mutant only. You two keep on focusing on keeping everyone alive; I’m going to focus on bringing us all together.” 

Scott and Emma do agree that that’s sweet, and well-meaning, but couldn’t he just ask Northstar to do this? The X-Men don’t want to lose one of their biggest guns. Bobby points out that it’s not like he’s cutting off contact. If they need him, he’ll be there. They *better* call him when they find the Horseman. Plus, they have Magneto, they already decided they were going to give Wind Dancer her spot back to keep a closer eye on her, and he’s sure Wolverine will want back in to protect her. They’ll be fine. 

Emma begrudgingly accepts this resignation, commending him for striking out on his own. Bobby thanks her for this last year. He wouldn’t have found himself if she hadn’t dragged him back onto the X-Men.

SCOTT, shaking Bobby’s hand: “I’m proud of you, twerp.” 

BOBBY: “One of the five strongest Mutants alive and about to be a solo hero, and I’m still a twerp to you?” 

SCOTT: “Always will be.” 

We close as we cut to the school, where Shela, now in her signature yellow and blue Escapade costume, eagerly walks down the halls of the Jean Grey School, dragging her luggage behind her. Opening a door, she says hello to Martha and Ernst. 

SHELA, couldn’t be happier: “HI! I’m Escapade! And I’m your new roommate!” 

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

CAST CHANGE:

ICEMAN AKA BOBBY DRAKE IS NO LONGER PART OF THE MAIN CAST.

[mealvaan]

Shade

A'tari woke with a start from another nightmare that wasn't hers.

It was an immersion of her own undoing. The bard had learned to capture the precision and subtleties of sound, and she drowned in those sounds in her dreams. How vividly she could hear the rattle of gunfire, the roiling mass of clamouring voices, and the jaw-clenching scrape of metal on metal. The rest was an impressionist's painting of reality: swatches of sunset for the oldstone houses and the faces, baked red. The thick, sticky, serrated scent of sweat and smoke. The numb thud of shoulders and elbows into her sides, all piling on in her new sense of gravity. The taste of blossoming, sour iron in her mouth. Flames of hair licking at the tops of her vision.

A'tari found herself sprawled out in the bed on her own. A rustling shift of the sheets and a turn of her head revealed Urianger at the desk, poring through dense text.

"Didn't get a good sleep either, huh?" A'tari asked him, sitting up in their sheets.

"I fear it shall not come to pass. Not tonight." Urianger closed his book. His features outlined nicely in candlelight, orange blooming in the little hairs of his beard and lashes. He beheld A'tari, bundled in blankets, with a knowing and tired sympathy. "Pray tell, whose visions plagueth thee?"

"Fordola rem Lupis."

Perhaps it was the woman's resonant that allowed so many of her nightmares to seep into the folds of A'tari's mind. It was difficult for A'tari to not give the Butcher grace the moment she showed an inkling of change; the Echo had slipped Fordola's hands on hers like gloves and forced her to watch them defend herself, to kill. It was difficult to truly know which of her thoughts about Fordola were really hers: the pity, the hatred, the hope, the lot.

But how many others had she come to inherit the nightmares of, long after they passed? She saw the young, prepubescent face of Asahi sas Brutus, which was tinted with hatred even back then. She heard the chime of Meteion's, "How are you feeling?" and the smothering silence that followed. She felt sand nicking at the wounds in her aether-thinned skin as the rattle of the serpent hastened from one ear to the next, before she lost consciousness in the desert sheets.

"Alas, hers is a plentiful spring from which thy shadows sup," said Urianger, breaking her spiral of thought.

"And what about you? How did the star end this time?"

"'Twas the black rose that blossomed once more."

"What a pair we make. One tortured by others' pasts, one suffering from apocalyptic futures."

Urianger smiled in dry amusement.

"In truth, I would not trade my vocation for any other. To be without the gift of prophecy is to be without the gift of thee."

A'tari brushed her thumbs over her knees, a simper hidden behind her perching duvet.

"You aren't tired of seeing me die over and over? I'm tired of it, and half the time all I see are dead strangers. People I didn't even really know… People I don't have the right to grieve. Yet, I do. Still."

"'Tis merely a vision, and for that I am well glad. Were I to forsake the art of prophecy, the worst of my visions shall come to bear." Urianger shifted his chair around entirely, facing A'tari properly. "The nightmares compel thy heroism — thy desire to savest those who may yet be saved."

"Maybe."

A'tari never thought of it that way. It was easy for Urianger to find the silver lining. He sought to intimately understand the worst so he was motivated to strive for the best, every time.

A'tari was not so resilient. A'tari wanted a good night's rest, without the heavy mantle of everyone's struggles on her shoulders. Why couldn't she just take it, the way Urianger did every time he delved somewhere strange, alone, and came back the same? Him — lovely, kind him.

Urianger stood and drifted across the room. His finger caught a tear on the apex of her lash, and she hadn't realised she was crying.

"My burden is fear, as is the burden of spokenkind in its entire. 'Tis no different from reading hypotheses. Thy burden art beyond mine own, A'tari. Thou hast seen the myriad horrors of the star, in the very flesh thou hast cut down again and again. Such visions of the past cannot be changed. Were I plagued with thy gift and affliction alike…"

"What would you do?"

"I would seclude myself to the farthest reaches of the star, and hope that in so doing, I would be full rid of the possibility that a vision might find me. Were I braver, were I stronger, mayhaps I would allow for a single companion. Yet thou claimest companionship in every breath, A'tari."

A'tari gleamed watery-eyed at Urianger. In a blink, her arms were wrapped around his hips, and her cheek pressed against his sternum.

Urianger wrapped his arms around her, one across her shoulder blades both, and the other stroking her hair. She didn't cry, but this was close, and he allowed for the mourning silence indefinitely.

"I'm going to try to get back to sleep," she said eventually, gratitude woven into the levity of her voice.

"Fare thee well." Urianger turned away, towards the desk — until A'tari grabbed his hand.

"Come try with me?"

Though the tome he was reading called, he forgot it in a heartbeat.