#also how tf do i do a line break

[lemongogo]

oo u want 2 draw soo bad..

[dukeofthomas]

I will forever maintain that Jason would've been fine and Not a vigilante without Bruce making him Robin

[seventh-district]

.

[reraen]

2 more Shuuya redraws before Kidou's goggles murder my ass ✌️

[somnoir]

Bats and Phantoms - Part 2

Part 1 | Masterpost

Wraith and Nightwing

OG Schrodinger's: A CRIMELORD IS TRYING TO BE MY SUGAR DADDY

Dandadandan: Tf

Voice of Reason: You've been in Gotham for less than a month and this happens????

Thrice Danned: Why is Danny allowed a cool boyfriend but I'm not ಠ⁠︵⁠ಠ

Voice of Reason: No

Dandadandan: No

OG Schrodinger's: LOL ¯⁠\⁠_⁠༼⁠ ⁠•́⁠ ͜⁠ʖ⁠ ⁠•̀⁠ ⁠༽⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Thrice Danned: (⁠���⁠｀⁠Д⁠´⁠)⁠ノ⁠彡⁠┻⁠━⁠┻

Well, for one thing, the squirthis younger brother was up to his usual bout of trouble. Not that Dan was too worried. At least Danny wasn't getting shot this time.

Traveling out of Amity Park after being simultaneously shoved into a new clone body was disorienting. Sure, the Fentons and Vlad were now pretty okay and he had his new identy and life—but that didn't change the fact that Clockwork was making him do 'community service'. What a load of bull.

What did his new job involve? Occasionally assisting the heroes of their world. Which has led him to Blüdhaven. Jazz's most recent demands was making sure Danny didn't die (or fake his death) in Gotham. But Fenton (and now Masters) luck strikes again and now he's staring at a fight between the city's local vigilante: Nightwing.

He's a pretty thing, that's for sure. Dan might actually get sick of how many times a civilian mentions that man's ass (it was amazing, he knows). But it would be creepy if 'Dante Mastere-Fenton' were to stalk the local hero.

He's got a coffee in hand when he sees Nightwing grapple away, smiling brightly at citizens that waved at him. It was peaceful... If not for the fact that gunshots banged loudly in the streets and Nightwing's line was suddenly cut.

Hero time.

Dan has been a victim to his siblings' commentary on the JL one to many times. He's seen the way Superman scoops up Lois Lane whenever she's made hostage and is dropped from a building.

Nightwing is in his arms seconds later, floating in the air while Dan carries the vigilante bridal style. He offers the obviously surprised man a grin, flashing his fangs.

"I'd ask if it hurt when you fell, but I did catch you in the end."

Dick wasn't expecting to fucking fall. He was usually light on his feet and not just anyone could cut any line that was supplied by Batman. He had prepared to crash, for his bones to break from the fall, but no. His body was pressed against hard and very much sculpted muscle and his eyes blew wide when he saw the man that was surely carved from fucking marble.

The hunk of a man that was surely bigger than Jason had almost fiery hair that reminded him of Kori's, just white. Clearly, he wasn't human. An almost teal tinge to his skin and deep crimson eyes—reallt handsome too. Also, he was flying.

He was being carried the same way Lois Lane was whenever Superman saved her from danger. Damn, was this how she felt? All giddy and kinda aroused excited?

Dick Grayson was not a coward and shoot his shot immediately.

"I'd have to ask what heaven's like since an angel caught me." He grinned, watching as his unknown saviour chuckled.

"I'm no angel, darling. More like a demon."

Teeth... Oh... Fangs.

"So... Can I have my saviour's name?" Dick hummed once the stranger landed in a nearby rooftop. He was... Gentle, kinda. He didn't drop Dick, or whatever, but he did make sure he was on his feet in the concrete roof.

The stranger gave him yet another toothy grin.

("I'm Phantom! I had it first in this world!" Danny argued, immediately flipping Dan off once the subject of their aliases were brought up.

"Then what the hell am I supposed to be called?! CW wants me playing hero for my 'redemption'." There's a mocking tone in his voice before he shudders at the invisible presence of the ancient.

"I have an idea!" Jazz—the only sensible one in the famil—smiled and went to giving him a name.

"How about—")

"Wraith." The stranger—Wraith—chuckled softly and tilted Dick's head a bit. Damn, that man was tall.

A second later, he was gone.

(Later, Dick hijacked the batcomputer to search for any cases that involved 'Wraith')

Part 3 | Masterpost

[moonlight-prose]

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

➛ 03. BRIDGE OVER TROUBLED WATER

a/n: we are getting down to the nitty and gritty of this man's pain. and he's finally starting to the accept the fact that he has to talk about what happened to him. honestly out of all the chapters this one might be my favorite. solely for the soft vibes i tried to shove into what is already a very angsty story. also somehow wade weaseled his way further into this chapter than i intended him to. so enjoy the humor i've tried to add throughout. (i am reposting this since it didn't show up in the tags yesterday.)

summary: to open up was like taking a knife to a steel door. he never saw the use in letting someone in. but dinner spent in your company and conversations over wine and whiskey is where things begin to take a turn.

word count: 8.3k+ (i don't even know how tf that happened.)

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: partially explicit scene, angst by the bucket load, vulnerable and emotional logan, grief, trauma, heartache, fluff, domestic vibes, alcohol consumption, wade breaking the fourth wall, wade being a shit wingman, the beginnings of something more.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

Blood poured over his hands and soaked into the ground below. The warmth of it coated his senses, dug into the grooves and lines of his palms. He swore he felt it down to his bones. Now permanently mixed with a version of him long forgotten—the man who used to smile.

Their shouts of pain rendered him immobile. Useless to help them, useless to save their lives. Useless. Useless. Useless. He fought against the restraints, the invisible shackles put there by his own hands. Whether to stop him from going or to keep him from harm—he'd never know—but he battled regardless. With a snarl, he felt them snap, his claws sliding free in all their familiarity. A weapon of destruction unable to be used for salvation.

When he began to run he felt it. The piercing echo of her. The power she emanated as they took her life, brought her to the brink of death. He felt her voice punch through his chest—puncturing him in his heart. She screamed his name with her final breath. Called out for his help; for him to save them all.

He could almost see her in his mind, the horror that befell a school of such powerful people. And he loathed himself for breathing. For living after they were taken so quickly from him.

His family. His home.

What once existed would no longer return. That alone broke him further than their deaths. The knowledge that his world—his universe—would be without their heroes. So much of their worth had been given to humanity. Only to be stripped of their lives within the blink of an eye.

And he couldn't save them. He could barely stand on his own two feet without stumbling.

"Logan!" The scream split along his skull, rupturing veins that healed far too quickly for his liking.

What the fuck was the point of his abilities if he couldn't put them to use? If he couldn't do the one thing they counted on him for.

Their blood stuck to him, burrowing into skin that would never scar. He'd never have proof of the wounds that rested along his heart. Forever damned to carry the weight of his own failure—the guilt that ate him alive. For what? To tell the story he could barely stomach himself? What was his life to the lives of those who meant so much more?

Why did he have to fucking live?

He stood on the doorstep. Death stained the walls, pierced the air with its pungent copper tang. He keeled over at the bushes, all the alcohol he'd consumed expelling itself from his body at the sight. His family was dead. His family was dead and he couldn't join them. He couldn't fucking die.

What once felt like a gift—eternity to find these people who loved him—now rang true with the only word that could make sense. Curse. His curse.

"No," he gasped, eyes bleary with tears as he scrambled to his feet and sprinted through the broken down door.

His claws came free, expecting a fight. Only to be met with silence. An eerie echo of nothing.

No laughter, no life, no chatter of students.

Nothing.

The breath ripped from his lungs as a blaring horn spilled in through the apartment's open window. In an attempt to get some cool air, he pushed the couch closer to what airflow there was. The only downside was hearing everything as he slept. Each little noise and loud mouthed fucker as they wandered the rather empty street. He wanted to leave—move to a better spot where humanity was sparse—but the pull of you across the street kept him there.

"Fuck," he grunted, eyes blinking away the nightmare that tore at his psyche.

The bottle of whiskey underneath the kitchen cabinet called his name. Offering a respite against the horrors he couldn't run from. And with a pained groan, he stumbled towards it—grabbing his coffee mug from the counter. The amber liquid felt bitter against the back of his throat. A familiar burn he welcomed.

He may not be able to stay injured, but this he could have. The darkness at the end of the bottle. The silence he found in collapsing drunk against the couch.

The streetlight outside lit the area filled with trash and the few people sleeping in darkened alleys. If he listened hard enough he could hear their heartbeats. Smell the pungent scent of the city as it seeped through the window. He could feel the thrum of New York beneath his feet—unfamiliar in its nature but home nonetheless.

The sight of a light flicking on grasped his attention—a glimpse of you staggering to the kitchen for a glass of water clear through your window. You should really get curtains, or blinds. He'd help install them for you. But then he'd never get this again. A small insight into your life, a peek into what he left behind a day ago.

Your lips against his still seared through his body—your moans and want for more left him breathless. And he had to go and fuck it up. Just as he did with everything in his life. He ruined the good. Corrupted the innocent.

Doing the same to you felt unfathomable—painful.

But how could he stop?

When you were catching his gaze in the window. Your glass of water was forgotten and the blanket dropped to the leather chair behind you. He left the bottle on the floor by the couch, his empty mug beside it as you grabbed for something. Logan yearned to hear your voice. To apologize for how he left things. But saying sorry never came easy and he found that keeping you at a distance was much safer than what he actually wanted.

The ringing on his phone broke his penetrating gaze. He reached for it quickly, pressing it to his ear as you brought your phone to yours. A breath was all that echoed through the small speaker—soft and warm. He swore he could feel it against his cheek. Hear the echo of your heart pounding beneath his.

"Can't sleep?" you uttered, finally putting his mind at ease. He exhaled a deep breath—hearing it fill your ears as warmth trailed down your spine.

"Nightmares."

You watched him stand still as stone. His fingers gripped the phone for assurance. A sense of stability from a past that had already cracked him in half. The sorrow in his eyes practically bled through the streets. Lapping at your feet like the waves on a shore. And in an act so unlike yourself, you took a step forward. You stood in his grief and offered to drag him to the sand—gave him hope that this world might treat him differently.

Logan wouldn't save himself because he believed he deserved it.

He'd save himself because he knew you deserved a better man.

"Do they happen often?"

The soft echo of your voice tinged with sleep set his mind at ease. For the first time that night he felt himself breathe properly. He could taste the sweetness in the air, the heat that clung to his skin held traces of you when you started to open your window.

Leaving you at your door suddenly felt like the stupidest decision he'd ever made. But the fear is what kept him at a safe distance. He couldn't hurt you here in this shitty apartment. He couldn't destroy what good you held in your heart standing here at an open window.

"Every night," he rasped. His hand clenched, the bones of his knuckles shifting as silver began to peek through the pierced skin.

He knew you could see it. He heard your heart speed up through the phone. And with a ragged sigh, he retracted them forcefully—hiding the beast within to present you with the man beyond.

"You don't have to hide them from me." If you turned, you'd see the punctures in your door you tried to hide with duct tape. The claws that came free because of your touch—your kiss.

They should have scared you.

Logan almost wished they had.

"You don't want to see that part of me honey," he muttered, watching as you stood closer to the ledge—your hand pressed to the chipped wood. "It's not all sunshine and rainbows."

You laughed and he felt it down his spine. "No. I think that's only in Wade's mind."

"Don't say that fucker's name please," he groaned. "Not while I have you here."

"Did I touch a nerve? Wolverine?"

Your smile deepened, mischief practically dripping from your words. Yet Logan couldn't help fixating on the way his title sounded off your tongue. The hero name he loathed for so long suddenly made his heart flip. He gripped the phone tight enough until he heard a faint crackling sound—his body going taut at the thought of you saying it under different circumstances.

Moving past the subject was all he could do. All he wanted to do.

"Why are you up bub?"

You sighed, leaning against the window frame. "Restless. Too much energy from the day."

"Not too much moving in the archives huh?"

"I'll have you know I walk constantly. It's a very demanding job."

He snorted. "Down to the end of the bookshelves and back?"

"Shut up." Your laughter echoed across the street and it nearly startled him how normal he felt. How human. "I can guarantee my job is a lot more work than yours."

"You're right. Saving the universe is nothin' when it comes to books."

"I'm going to hang up."

"Don't. I'll stop." Despite his serious tone, he didn't try to stop the chuckle you felt strike against your heart. The husk of its deep nature.

The memory of his touch still rang clear in your mind. How his lips molded against yours, his body firm and hot beneath your touch. You weren't restless because of work. In fact you felt the pain in your feet begin to spread up your calves the longer you stood there. You couldn't sleep because of him. Too busy replaying that moment to find time in your schedule to sleep.

"Logan." His gaze fell serious at the soft murmur of his name. "Tell me about your dream."

He bit back the urge to push you away, to claim he was fine. That nothing happened and acknowledging it wouldn't save him from himself. But that's not what you were trying to accomplish, and he knew that. He could see it clearly in front of his face. But he was a man hardened by the nature of silence—of ignoring his pain until it eventually withered and died inside him.

Changing that wasn't a battle he'd win tonight. Nor tomorrow.

He sighed, seeing how you fought back a yawn. "Not tonight honey."

"Why–"

"I will." Your breath echoed loudly in his head. He wished he could feel it. "I'll tell you everything. Just not tonight."

Your finger traced the silhouette of him against the glass. "When?"

"I don't know." He imagined your touch was against his skin, pictured how you'd trace the lines of his muscles. How you'd lick along his veins for a taste of him on your tongue. "Tell me about your day."

"That's boring," you groaned.

"Not to me bub. I like history." He smiled. "I used to teach it."

"Fuck off. Did you really?" You perked up within seconds, eyes alight as they were the other night. And Logan felt himself get dragged in a bit deeper. He knew he was fucked the second he saw you, but now...there was no stopping the inevitability of you. "I guess I learn something new every day. James."

He growled, low and hungry—pleasure filling his stomach. "Don't start somethin' you can't finish honey."

Silence filled the air and Logan felt the doubt pull at his nerves. He watched you lean into the glass, your scent filtering through the warm air. Sharp and heady. Darker than your usual honeyed sweetness; the taste of it spread along his tongue—shivers rolling down his back. You wanted him. No fuck that.

You needed him.

"And if I want to," you breathed, trepidation and hope overlapping in your words. "Finish this."

He bared his teeth in a grin that felt feral—as if he could taste your flesh. "We will," he stated with such severity. A promise lined in truth for once. "Now go on. Tell me about your day."

He awoke to the sounds of clashing pots and pans being tossed on the stove—the incessant beep of the coffee machine blaring off every thin wall. And Wade singing loudly—and horribly—to some fucking pop song from the eighties Logan would learn the name of against his will. He groaned, slamming his head back against the couch in the hopes that this was all a dream.

If he wished hard enough maybe he'd wake up to silence.

Or to you.

"Good morning peanut!" Wade's voice shouted, another bang sounding off behind him. "I've got coffee, Canadian bacon, and the final answer for what came first—the chicken or the egg."

Logan longed to stab himself in the skull. This quick healing factor became a fucking pain in the ass at the worst of times. He staggered into the kitchen, immediately wishing he'd drank the entire bottle of whiskey last night at the sight of Wade in a pair of white underwear and nothing else.

"What the fuck." He shut his eyes, reaching blindly for a mug and the coffee pot.

"Yeah..." Wade slammed the pan on the stove, a now broken yolk spilling over the edge. "Laundry day and Al called dibs on the top load. Just call me Risky Business."

Logan's sigh was ragged, beyond exhausted as he gulped down the first dose of searing coffee. "He wore a shirt in that fucking movie."

"Lookie here! Someone is up to date on their Tom Cruise movies. Don't tell me you're a Top Gun fan honey badger because I have some fucking news for you. We topped them for highest grossing movie of all time." Wade smiled as the destroyed egg slid onto a chipped plate. "Financially topped. Personally, I don't think scientology allows Tom Cruise to fuck anymore."

"I'm not listenin' to your fuckin' bullshit," he grunted, pouring another cup.

The charred egg was slid his way. "Aren't you gonna ask me?"

"Ask you what?"

Talking this early in the morning made the veins in his throat strain—his grip on the mug nearly cracking the porcelain. In times like this Logan felt the overwhelming need to throw his roommate out the fucking window.

If only to get thirty seconds of hearing him scream on the way down.

"What came first."

He moved to make another pot of coffee, ignoring the chatter that fell from Wade's mouth. In order to even feel coherent enough to make sense of it, he'd need four more cups. Or enough to bathe in if the morning didn't calm down. The sun blinded him as he turned to glance out the window; the air stale and hot choked his senses. He'd never felt this overstimulated before—this out of place.

"You look like you've seen better days in a horror movie. Up having late night phone sex?" Wade grinned and leaned across the counter—his head in his hand and love in his eyes. "Tell me about it, stud? Tell me more, tell me more. Did you get very far?"

"Oh god," Logan groaned, slamming the coffee pot back into place. "Can you shut the fuck up for once? I'm begging you."

"Did you beg her?"

His claws pressed to Wade's smug face—blood spilling against his cheek. "I will cut your fuckin' mouth off."

"I just wanna know why you're waiting so long to give her the Hugh Jackman."

"The what?" he growled, heat blistering against his face.

"Ya know." The crude gesture to his groin had him digging his claws directly into Wade's cheek. But even then he mumbled around the metal piercing his skin. "The package. The full shebang. Rock her like a hurricane—or whatever the fuck that German band was talking about. Cause I sure know she's aching for it."

"Don't fucking talk about her like that."

Wade smiled until his cheek sliced down to his mouth. The sight was disgusting enough for Logan to forgo wanting breakfast. And lunch. And dinner at that.

"You don't believe me! HA! Let me tell you, you're pretty but there's nothing going on up there." A tap on Logan's forehead forced the claws to sink just a bit deeper. "That sweet angel across the street is ready to save that horse and ride you instead cowboy. All. Night. Long."

"You don't know what you're talking about." Yet even as he said the words he felt the lie stick to the back of his throat.

Last night's conversation was proof enough that Wade was telling the truth. Even Logan could fucking see what was right in front of him. Someone beautiful, someone smart. Someone...he wasn't worthy of. If he combined all those factors he only came up with one conclusion. The longer he stayed away from you, the better you'd wind up being.

The safer you'd stay if he wasn't constantly shoving his way into your life.

The loud sigh from Wade's healing mouth shoved another wave of guilt into Logan's stomach. "Look. Ignore it all you want, but sooner or later you're gonna wind up with only your hand for some company and she'll find someone who actually wants to be with her."

Wade was right. For once.

What Logan didn't expect was the anger he felt at the visual of you finding someone else. The rage that nearly overwhelmed him. That's how it should be. You with someone better, a man who actually gave you a chance at a relationship. One that wasn't doomed from the very start. He let the thought simmer, chewed on it for as long as he could.

And not a minute later came to the answer he'd been looking for.

Logan would rip apart any other man without hesitation if they came into your life.

This wasn't a fling. He'd known that on his Earth and knew it now. He clawed his way out of a grave once to get back to you. And he would do it again and again and again. As many times as it took to make sure he got a glimpse of your smile, felt the love in your touch.

"Grab your shit we've got somewhere to be," he grumbled, shoving the burned egg in his mouth and washing it down with fresh black coffee to kill the taste.

"Yes! Now there's the Wolverine I know." Wade shouted, pumping his fist in the air. Logan couldn't tell if he was being vulgar or not. 

"Let's go bang your girl!" A snarl ripped through his throat, blood splattering on his bare chest as he pinned Wade to the wall—his claws embedded in the man's heart. "Or you bang her and I quietly stay at home with the window open to serenade you two with the sensual sounds of Marvin Gaye."

He grinned, eyes flashing over Logan's shoulder. "Directly from Sam Wilson's playlist if you know what I'm getting at Marvel fuckers."

On days where people were stuck at work and students infiltrated the library above, you found the solace of the archives to be everything you needed. For an hour you'd been placing books in their correct spots, labeling boxes to be housed somewhere new, and theorizing where you went wrong the other night when Logan left.

You didn't want to let the disappointment get to you. Nor should you. The phone conversation last night clarified enough for you to know him leaving wasn't your fault. It wasn't due to your kiss or even because he didn't want to be there. He simply hadn't healed from what his world did to him. Whatever Wade mentioned to you in a ramble of semi-seriousness gave you enough of a picture to know what that might have been.

No matter how much you wanted to help him; to make him see that you weren't scared of what he had to give. This wasn't your war.

Logan made sure you understood that.

That still didn't stop the swell of dismay at his actions. The belief that you weren't good enough to hear his story began to eat you alive the longer he pushed it off. Each comment came tinged with pain you'd never be privy to. Agony he wanted to endure alone.

You would give him the space he needed—the time that was required in order to heal from wounds you couldn't see. They were there. Dug into the shape of his heart—carved into the metal of his bones—but Logan wouldn't allow you to bear witness to that. To a broken side of a man who wanted to be better. If only he knew he didn't have to be for you to ache for him.

The thought of him alone left your heart twisting in your chest and stomach fluttering.

You slid another book into the correct spot, silence echoing like a void that went on for miles. Only for the ring of your phone to shatter it like glass. You scrambled for the device in your purse, breath filling your lungs at the sight of his name as it flashed across your screen. 

Maybe this made you seem desperate—a type of clingy that would make any other man run. You couldn't find it in yourself to give a shit.

"Logan," you said—his name leaving your mouth in a breathy manner you regret within moments.

"Oh shit girl you've got it bad."

The pounding of your heart jumped at the loud echo of Wade's voice blasting through the small speaker. "Wade?"

"The one and holy." To say you were perplexed felt like an understatement. But before you could spill the millions of questions on your tongue, Wade kept going. "Hey! What kind of wood do you prefer?"

A loud rumble of an engine blared in the background—killing your ears. "What?"

"Oh right fuck me. Silly question. There's twelve thousand words already written about what type of wood you prefer." He laughed as the sound came again. "I'm talking the tree kind. Got a preference for scents?"

"She's not gonna be able to smell it you dumb fuck!" Logan shouted. You heard an audible screech before a loud rustle had you pulling the phone from your ear with a groan. "Honey?"

You smiled, walking towards the part of the room that didn't echo with your voice. "I'm scared to ask what you guys are doing today."

"Oh," he chuckled. You wished he'd bought a better phone, longing to see each expression that crossed his face. "I owe you a door."

That kiss reemerged in your memory once more. Burning through your body in quick rapid strokes. As if Logan was fanning the flames of something stronger—a fire that you wouldn't be able to control. You imagined what he looked like at this moment, if he still wore the exhausted look of grief from last night. Or if he'd covered it with a mask of annoyance due to Wade.

"I can just call the building manager to fix it." You put it on your list of things to do today already, but the idea of seeing Logan again was too tempting to pass up.

He huffed, falling silent. Wade's voice shouting about the Lorax became all you heard for a brief moment—Logan no doubt figuring out what he could say to fix this. The glimpse of him last night had set your teeth on edge in a way you'd never experienced before. You felt you could sink your canines into the tension and rip it to shreds with ease.

"Where I come from it's only right to fix what I broke."

What he broke.

This wasn't about the door. You could see it clearly in the pained way he spoke his words—each one more clear than the last. Leaving you in a rush with no fucking explanation left him worried that you weren't going to be around if he kept pushing you away. You were something good—a light he sought in the darkness he found himself in—and messing up this chance wasn't going to happen twice.

He'd done this before. He pushed those he loved away.

Doing the same with you only made his chest echo with the hollow emptiness that he'd grown tired of feeling.

"You can fix my door under one condition," you said, effectively breaking the silence.

"Anythin'."

The flutter in your chest felt lethal when he spoke to you like this; open and willing to bend where you wanted him to go. A man had never given you this before. The attention, the knowledge that he wanted all of you. Not just sex, or meaningless conversations. He wanted every piece you were open to sharing—every dark crevice and thought you felt embarrassed about.

You only wished he'd understand you wanted the exact same thing from him.

"Dinner. My place. Seven p.m."

Fuck what you wouldn't give to see his smile as he let out a sigh of relief. "I won't be late."

You smiled, worrying your lip between your teeth—that familiar gooey warmth now back in your chest. "You better not be."

"I've got great timing honey. Got nothin' to worry about."

Bullshit. You nearly said it, but a loud shuffle and a few bitten off curse words—mainly growled on Logan's end—cut your conversation short. A triumphant laugh you could only figure to be Wade's pierced your eardrum as the phone was unwillingly handed off once again.

"I just want to let you know I've got money on whether or not he nails you tonight. So don't let me down cupcake."

"You're betting on this?" you exclaimed, loud enough to hear your voice bounce off the walls and echo back to where your supervisor was no doubt sitting.

"Of course. I'm not one to turn down the sleazy art of gambling." He sighed wistfully. You'd never wanted to punch someone more in this moment; suddenly aware that this is how Logan must feel every day of his life. "Besides if you heard the sounds that came out of our shower this afternoon. Oh ho ho. Something tells me that he was letting off some Steam Boat Willy to the thought of his late night phone buddy."

Disgust at Wade's words was rapidly overshadowed by the thought of Logan in the shower. Naked and desperate to find some release after your conversation last night. To say you hadn't pictured what he'd look like hard and aching from your touch would be a lie. But actually knowing that's what happened left you winded.

Your chest heaved as your body grew warm—the image of him with his hand around his cock, his head thrown back in pleasure, almost made your knees give out.

"Your thinkin' about it huh?" The overconfidence in Wade's voice snapped you back to reality within seconds.

"Shut up."

"Got ya red handed angel."

With a roll of your eyes, you made to head back to your work—Wade's words only served to fluster you more than you wanted. "Don't piss him off too much okay Wilson?"

His laughter nearly appeased you as the piercing sound of a saw went off again. The both of them must have ventured to a warehouse to find materials. You wanted to confirm your thoughts when Wade did it for you. As if he could hear you loud and clear.

"Who knew our man had lumberjack experience?" He sighed dreamily, a shout of what you guessed was Logan saying fuck off filtering through. "God it's like watching X-Men Origins Wolverine. Back when his hair screamed Staying Alive and I went by the name Billy Butcherson."

A cough from behind you gave enough notice that you had in fact been caught by your boss—her glare burning through the back of your skull. The short break you were allotted passed five minutes ago. Normally you'd be fighting your way to the end of the day. Today though...you felt that delicious bite of excitement at knowing you'd be spending tonight with Logan.

"I've got to go. But Wade..."

"Yeah?"

"Take a picture for me will you?"

"Already done. Got my phone set to burst. Which is what Logan's gonna do tonight instead of tainting our shower walls–" Logan's roar of I'll fuckin' kill you came seconds before you heard a thwack overlapped with Wade's high shriek. 

The line went dead instantly.

The elevator wasn't moving fast enough for your liking—each flash of a floor passed sent another wave of nerves through your body. Work dragged on longer than you expected. And the groceries you picked up on the way didn't feel like enough to make a meal grand enough for a night like tonight. You tried to destress by saying he wasn't expecting much. This wasn't even a date.

That is until you realized...that's exactly what this was.

A date that felt long overdue.

You hadn't known Logan long enough to pursue a relationship as deep as this, but that's where things got fuzzy. He knew you. Or a version of you that felt entirely different to the person you were now. And maybe that's where the security that this would last came through. The knowledge that no matter what happened, Logan was in this for the long haul.

This wasn't temporary.

A creak of the doors opening didn't deter you from digging through your mountain of thoughts. Each one more worrisome than the last. You should be terrified that this was it. The future had already been written and Logan was at the end of the road. That alone would be reason enough to turn tail and run.

Then you turned the corner leading directly down your hallway.

Logan stood leaning against the wall, a lit cigar in his mouth, smoke trailing past his lips, and a heavy wooden door placed directly beside him. A toolbox that looked to have seen better days sat by his feet. A bouquet of honeysuckle and peonies placed directly on top—wrapped in brown paper with a yellow and blue bow.

Whatever fear might have lingered in your body dissipated when his gaze found yours and his lips pulled into a smile.

"You're early," you said—desperate to catch your breath. The scent of his cigar lingered on your senses, mixing with the leather of his jacket.

Suddenly Wade's words from earlier felt a lot more real than you expected. He showed up dressed casually. Jeans, flannel, the familiar dog tags strung around his neck. Yet whatever transpired the night before came rushing back with the promise of more.

This was a date. But whether it would lead to something else you'd leave entirely up to him.

"I told ya I had great timing honey."

Heat trailed down your body where his eyes followed. "I didn't believe you."

"I know."

The claw marks on your door brought a flustered smile to your face. As if to say you were okay with them staying. You wanted them to stay. Logan's eyes darkened at the sight, a flash of something worse taking hold of his mind as you pushed it open.

You longed for him to tell you the truth. He wouldn't either way. But the hope still remained—lingering on the edges of your heart.

"Easy enough to fix," he muttered, reaching for his tools—the bouquet of flowers gripped tightly in his large palm.

"I didn't know what exactly to get." He stood in your living room, eyes trained on the window. Finally he was on the other side—in your home—and yet he found he didn't belong here. "Do you have a preference?"

He sucked in another drag from the cigar before pulling it free—stamping it out on his palm as you watched. A heady wanton look crossed your features. You doused it quickly in favor of unpacking the groceries. He made sure to store it away for a later time. One that didn't feel dragged by the weight of his own thoughts.

"I'm not picky."

You nodded. "Feel free to use whatever's useful. I don't have tools though."

"I came prepared bub." He lifted the box with a smile and suddenly recalled that he bought you flowers. Much to Wade's annoying comments about this being a first date. Logan wouldn't push you in any direction you felt uncomfortable going towards. But in an irritating turn of events, Wade was right. Twice. "These are for you."

The smile on your face was worth every dollar and excruciating minute spent picking out what went with what. He reminded himself to thank Wade. Even if it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"They're beautiful." The delicate white lay atop pink flowers that filled your senses. An aroma you'd never known could work so well together. "Why these?"

A touch of crimson began to tint the tops of his ears as he let out a breath. "They're uh..." He coughed. "The day we met I said somethin' kinda awkward."

"I smelled different."

"Yeah." Logan wanted to bury himself six feet under at the teasing glint in your eyes. "That's how you smell. To me. Like honey and flowers."

There had to be an explanation for the way your heart split down the center—as if to offer him one half. To give him a part of yourself that once didn't belong to him. But that's where you were wrong. Even in a different universe, he would find you. You were once everything to him; the person he'd go through hell for. That fact never changed. Even if you did.

You wanted to spill every emotion, every truth about how your heart already longed for him in ways that left you reeling. But Logan wasn't a man to speak longer than he had to. And before you finally gained the courage to open your mouth, he was stepping back into the hallway. His hands busy with a project and mind eons away.

Dinner was simple to cook knowing he'd eat whatever you made. Pasta, some wine, and an old bottle of whiskey a friend of yours bought sat on the table as he put the final touches on the door. You'd spent the time at the stove combing over every word spoken. Every minute touch and fleeting look. As he worked effortlessly on setting your new door in place.

A dark honeyed wood with grooves throughout that almost resembled the small panes of a window. The quality was stunning. Beyond anything you'd seen before.

You wanted to prod and ask where he learned to do this. But the sight of him slightly sweaty, flannel tossed into his toolbox, and arms on display when he carried the door to its spot, left you dazed. Each movement caused the muscles beneath his skin to ripple—face screwed in a look of concentration while the sound of the drill echoed off the hallway walls.

For a moment you forgot dinner was cooking as you practically ogled his form. That familiar flame burned through your body when his gaze met yours and a smile crossed his lips.

Logan could feel your eyes on him—the aching burn of your gaze now seared into the bare skin of his arms and shoulders. And he fought himself to keep going. To ignore your now heady scent—the way your heart sped up with each shift of his body—and finish what he started. If he was being honest, which he rarely was with himself, he put on a show for you.

You liked him.

He just wanted to reaffirm that fact once in a while.

The smell of slightly burnt garlic had him biting back a smile as you rushed to fix what his distraction caused. His ego swelled. Heart pumping with a sense of pride the second he caught you flustered with your head bowed in the kitchen.

"Smells delicious honey," he said, testing the lock on the door a few times until he felt satisfied with his work.

"It's not much." You popped open the two types of alcohol, pouring a generous helping of wine in your glass. He fixed himself his own whiskey. "Something my sister taught me when I was in college. She believed if there was nothing else to cook, pasta was always the correct answer."

"Smart woman."

You pushed the plate his way and caught the grin he hid at the small act of domesticity. What began as a nerve-wracking date became an insight into what your future with him might look like. Dinner at a tiny kitchen table, his jacket draped over one chair, the scent of flowers twining together with the faint traces of his cigar.

A life that felt perfect enough to keep forever.

"I hope you know Wade's betting on tonight," you said, pouring another glass of wine.

You were settled next to him on the couch, dinner resting full and warm in your stomachs. The alcohol tasted sweeter on your tongue compared to an hour ago. He lounged with his legs spread, glass balanced in one hand. A lazy look of satisfaction in his hazel eyes.

Logan had never felt this comfortable. Soothed by the scent of you beside him, the whiskey on his tongue, and the sight of you with your legs curled beneath you. The red wine made you smile more, laugh easier. He noticed how you bloomed before him, light shimmering between small jokes and half assed teases.

All his life he wondered what home would truly feel like. What would having a place be? And this...you beside him with an endless night stretched before you, gave him the answer.

Home felt like you.

He groaned, head falling against the back of your couch. "He's a lucky fucker with that can't die bullshit. What's the bet?"

Your eyes dragged to the door—tracing the carved marks as his hand hesitated to settle on your thigh. "That you'd and I quote nail me."

"What?" he spit.

The laugh that bubbled to the surface echoed with the heady effects of too much wine. "I hate to break it to Wade. But I don't have sex on the first date."

Logan's lips turned up, hand finally against the bare skin of your leg. Your skirt fanned around your lap, covering your soft skin that lay beneath. "So this is a date huh?"

"Yeah." He tugged you closer. "At least I think it is."

"I think so too."

Unconsciously, you toyed with the chain of his dog tags, catching a glimpse of the worn letters of his name. Any other time you'd push the questions away. You would claim that tonight wasn't the right time. After all this felt good, right in ways nothing had before. But the wine made you loose lipped. Braver than the other times you pushed past the line he drew deep in the sand.

Except this time...he started the conversation.

"You asked about my nightmares last night."

Your eyes caught his, fingers stilling against his chest. "I know you don't want to talk about it."

He shook his head with a deep exhale he felt down to his stomach. "If this is what I think it is. What we're startin' here. Then you should know what you're getting into honey."

"I know what I'm getting into–"

"No. You don't." He sat up straighter, tugging you close until your legs lay over his lap. "You don't know what happened to me. What I did..." He sucked in air as his heart began to twist. The cold wash of anxiety suddenly brighter than a few minutes earlier. "What I couldn't do."

The pain in his eyes chipped off a piece of your heart. Oh how you longed to give it to him.

Cupping his cheek, you felt the scratch of his beard against your skin. "Logan. You're not a bad man."

"Yeah bub. I am," he barked in a half laugh meant to discourage you from seeing his grief.

That's what this was. The full spectrum of his emotions scared the shit out of him more than any villain he fought. More than the thought of dying alone one day. The moment you saw them for yourself, he knew you'd run. He almost expected it. Which is why he'd taken so long—put it off each time the curiosity lingered in your gaze longer than he liked.

He told himself you didn't need to know.

It was better this way.

Tonight proved that all those reasons—all those excuses—stood no chance when it came to you.

"I don't believe that," you whispered, your other hand curling around his dog tags.

"Gotta remember I'm not him. I'm not the hero and never have been." When you looked at him like that—eyes wide and lips turned down—he felt the full weight of the words he was about to say out loud. Words he hadn't spoken since Laura met him by the fire way back in the Void.

Somehow saying it to the other Logan's daughter felt easier. As if he couldn't disappoint her anymore than he had. She'd been there at his death, watched him struggle to protect her, and loved him in spite of all that. She called him Dad and spoke over his grave with a smile. Knowing full well he'd never come back to life, he'd never find his way back to her.

Laura wasn't his kid and yet...he knew she'd understand.

But saying it all to you…

He wasn't sure he'd survive it if you never understood.

"The X-Men in my world weren't as respected as the ones in yours. We were heroes, but the humans. God they fuckin' hated us." His eyes burned with each memory that came rushing back. A river that threatened to drown him. "And I always had to be an asshole. I didn't know what home felt like—what...family felt like. So when I got it, I pushed it away."

"Oh, Logan–"

"No, let me...let me finish honey." He gripped the glass until he heard a crack—his eyes dazed and mind lost to a different time. The night that would later become his ghost. "So I left and did the only thing I was fuckin' good at. I drank until I couldn't feel anythin' anymore. And the humans decided they'd had enough of the X-Men."

Grief struck your heart straight down the center. Tears spilled down your cheeks at the sight of him so broken—so raw from a time that would never leave him. You finally knew why Wade never explained it to you.

This wasn't his story to tell. Not his past to share.

"I came home and they were–" His fingers dug into the skin of your thigh in an attempt to ground himself. Claws slipping free as he struggled to get the final words out—the truth of why he pushed you away. Why he should keep pushing you away. "They were dead."

You pressed yourself against his side, lips against his temple as he silently bit back the emotions he refused to set free. What would become of him once they were finally out? He couldn't risk hurting you because of it.

"They called for me." His breath was ragged, voice thick with tears that never fell. "Jean. Charles. I heard them die in my head. But I was too fuckin' drunk to save them. I got home and all of them were...Jesus. The humans called us mutants vicious, but I'd never seen anythin' like this."

The worst part crawled up his spine with a chill that had his claws coming free. "And you. You survived due to your gifts. Apparently you hid in the future—snapped there without even realizing it. But by the time you returned they were dead and no matter how many times you tried to go back, you couldn't." He raised his head, eyes red and glassy. "You tried to kill me that night. I couldn't blame you for it cause I wanted to die."

"That's not me."

He shook his head. "I know, but you have to know why it happened. I couldn't protect you honey. I couldn't protect any of them."

"The humans did this. Not you." You dragged his face to yours, forcing him to see the sincerity in your eyes—the fire that burned no matter the variant. "You did not kill your family Logan. Don't take their shame."

"It's easy for you to say that bub. You weren't there." He felt your touch mark against his skin and fuck how he wished it would leave a scar. "I'm not the fuckin' hero. I'm the man who fucked it all up because he was too proud for his own good. I need you to see that."

Your gaze hardened. "Why?"

"So you know what you're gettin–"

"Bullshit," you demanded. "I know exactly what I'm getting into Logan. I knew the second I met you. So don't do that. Don't push me away." The press of his forehead to yours leveled the pain and allowed him to breathe. "I'm here to stay. Whether you want me or not."

He grinned, tears finally falling as your lips found his. You breathed life back into his chest, made his heart worth beating again. For all that time he damned himself, loathed the reflection in the mirror, he never thought he'd get this. The soft press of your kiss, the bitter tang of wine on your tongue as his hand gripped your hip—his claws retreating back into his body.

"Trust me. I want you," he mumbled against salt stained lips and broken smiles. "I'll always want you."

"Then it's a good thing I want you too."

That familiar flicker of sparks still existed in the air, begging for more. But you were content to stay here. Kissing him over and over again in order to embed the sensation in your mind.

"Thank you for telling me," you sighed, fingers curling into his hair to drag his lips back to yours.

The thud of his heart ran through his whole body. "Can I show you somethin'?"

You nodded, pulling away as he dug into his pocket. As much as he longed to keep kissing you, to spend all night right there on that couch. He knew there'd be time for that. A night where you were both unburdened by the weight of a past that defined who you were. Tonight was not that night.

The picture was old, burned slightly at the edges and crinkled, but he handed it over with a grin. A group photo like the one stored in the archives at your job. Only this time you recognized two faces among the small team of people in yellow suits. You were smiling with an arm around Logan's waist, your face pressed against his chest.

The sight of his smile—wide and unfiltered—made your heart leap. But the blue aura that seemed to wrap around your body is what gave you pause.

"The blue..."

"Your powers." He pointed to the way it ended at your hands, seeming to stem directly from your chest. "Turning them off wasn't really a thing you could do. Somethin' about time being a constant flow of energy. Charles always explained it better."

Thousands of questions came to mind. All of them pertaining to the powers and the team and more specifically him. He sunk into the couch with a sigh, his eyes hazy with a different kind of need. An ache that no doubt begged him each night. Sleep. Rest without any nightmares, free of the shackles he'd placed on himself.

So you stood, nearly startling him when you did. Nothing had to be said about your intentions, or why you held out your hand for him to take. He simply followed. Each step heavier than the last. The kitchen could be cleaned tomorrow, the bottles put away later. You couldn't find it in yourself to care when his hand was in yours and he smiled at you as if you'd hung the moon in the sky.

"Thought you said Wade was losin' tonight honey?"

You laughed, pushing the flannel from his shoulders as you led him to your bed. "He is. We're just sleeping."

There was no mistaking the doubt in his eyes, the trepidation of his nightmares. "I might hurt you."

"No you won't." Drawing his hand up to your mouth, you lay a kiss along his knuckles. "I trust you Logan."

"You shouldn't." His breath was a shuddered exhale at the sight of you pulling your dress up and over your body.

"Well too bad," you replied, tugging the covers back while he pulled off his shirt—leaving his boots by the door. "You don't scare me Wolverine."

"Wolverine huh?" Crawling into bed with you was easy. Though the mattress sunk under the weight of his bones, you still let him tug you closer—his arms wrapped around your bare waist. "It was James the other night."

"Careful," you said. "Or I'll start calling you Howlett."

A growl rumbled in his chest, his teeth nipping at the bare skin of your shoulder as you laughed. And suddenly he remembered what it was like to live. To want more than just the bottom of a bottle and a peaceful night's sleep. He could recall nights like this in the past. A different you curled up against his body—the love resonating in how you clung to him.

It all slammed into him at once.

Although tonight he didn't push it away. He kept you close, his nose burrowed in your hair, and welcomed the gentle tug of a few hours rest.

Tonight—for the first time—he slept.

Without nightmares.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Do you have any crack headcannons like you did with Ace with hitting on Jamil?

I have one of Grim knowing how to use a toilet like a person would but not how to open doors. So during book 5. Guys would see Grim using the toilet, in the dark, in the middle of the night if they have to. They see two bright circles in the bathroom until they turn on the light.

[Referencing this post!]

👆 This scene from Puss in Boots 2 except it’s Grim and Yuu—

I have a lot of silly personal headcanons (probably way too many to contain in a post)! Off the top of my head:

A frequent topic among the first years is romance. It's mostly because Ace instigates (usually to brag about how much experience + game he has and how everyone else is a LOSER). Deuce and Epel are flustered, Jack tries to be mature and call out Ace's childish behavior + views, Sebek loudly compares what Ace says to the things he has read in his romance novels + advice from Lilia, and Ortho--shockingly--is the most level-headed and logical of the group. (He'll take one look at Ace's vital signs and declare the guy is actually lying about having rizz.)

(PREFACING THIS ONE WITH THE CONTEXT THAT I WAS SUFFERING REALLY BADLY FROM MONTHLY CRAMPS AND CAME UP WITH THIS TO COMFORT MYSELF) Due to their heightened senses, fae and/or beastmen are able to sense very subtle changes, such as shifts in weather (ie a storm is rolling in) and changes in the body. For example, local feminist king L*ona can somehow sense when "that time" of month is coming and will show up on some poor woman's doorstep a few days before it starts with a plastic bag of [feminine hygiene products], snacks, pain relief medicine, and a heating pad in it. He gives NO explanation, just unceremoniously tosses it on the floor before he turns around and peaces tf out.

Mostro Lounge staff are granted paid lunch breaks, but if they choose to eat from the lounge then they still need to pay for 50% of it. They once tried to unionize, but Azul sent in the twins to shut it down real fast.

Jade and Trey love really bad puns and dad jokes.

The Magic Carpet is Scarabia's unofficial mascot. The mobs generally like it and act like it's the dorm's collective pet dog. Sometimes they drop scraps of food for it from banquets/parties (... D-Does it eat? If so, how...?).

Crewel and Vil heard about the time the Ramshackle Ghosts designed and made Yuu + Grim Halloween costumes. They decided to work with the ghosts to make a fashion line using repurposed old fabrics for a charity fashion show. Proceeds went to an environmental conversation organization.

Lilia hates milk substitutes. He finds them offensive and it breaks his heart to see others ask for the "fake stuff". Insists that those are not "true milk", "It's just nut or grain water!! NUT OR GRAIN WATER!!"

Lilia goes on dating apps just to see who he can bag, then he kicks down the door to the Diasomnia lounge to brag that he’s “still got it”.

Malleus learned about swear words from Leona. (He asked Lilia what a “flying fuck” was because Leona said it in front of him 😭)

Crowley has a 20-step beauty routine. Also sings (terribly) while he engages in self care.

Fellow goes on dates just to scam women of their valuables and/or to leech off their resources for a little while. His ideal targets are lonely wealthy widows and/or lonely wives whose spouses are often busy with work or traveling. Usually ends with him getting smacked by the woman, chased off by an angry spouse, or him pathetically groveling for mercy at their feet.

[cheolieji]

Hello!! I wanted to ask- how would seventeen react to the reader being all kissy and / or needy when they're with the boys?

Hope you have a great day / night, drink enough water and eat enough!!

(Feel free to ignore it it makes you uncomfortable!🫶🏼)

Hello! thank you soo much for the request!! i hope you have an amazing rest of the day♡

request: Seventeen's reaction to reader being kissy/needy when they're with the members

° don't be shy to request

|| Hyung line || Maknae line ||

hyung line - Needy | maknae line - Kissy

Seungcheol: Would take a peak at the members to see if they're looking. and if they're not, he would be all over you. "You smell so good, baby~"

Jeonghan: At first, he would think something was wrong. but would tease you so hard when he figured out you were needy. "Are you okay? did something happen? " — "Ahh, i see you're needy, huh?" he whispers in your ears as he's smirking

Joshua: Just like Jeonghan. he would tease you like crazy, but he's also needy, so he's rushing to go home. "Come onn, let's go home. we could just tell them we had an emergency "

Jun: He would be a little confused at first, cause, like, tf is wrong with you? but when he finally gets the hint,"Oh babyyy, the members are here, i knoww. I'm sorry, okay? I'll make it up to you when we get home" (i love this man. im sorry ugh throwing up rn)

Soonyoung: You've been all over him since the time you arrived at Mingyu's house for the dinner that he planned. "Soon, do we have to be here? i mean, we see them every day, anyway, " said as you're sitting on his lap with your arms around his neck. "it's fine, babe. we'll leave in 20 minutes, is that okay?" You nodded as you went back to kissing his neck. "What the fuck?, get a room dumbasses istg Kwon soonyoung, I'll break your leg, you too y/n" yelled by Seungkwan standing behind you

(you two got kicked out lmaoo)

Wonwoo: Would act confused cause he is confused. does not get the hint whatsoever. You had to tell him yourself when you both got in the car. "Ah, really? i didn't realise sorry. want me to make it up to you?"

Jihoon: The exact opposite of wonu, he would notice immediately, i mean, you're usually clingy, but not THIS clingy. "Are you okay? do you wanna go home? " — "yeah? okay, let's go. " Would immediately take care of you when you arrived home~~

[the-entitie]

Why didn't you say anything?

Poly TF 141 x sex-demon reader (male intended but has depictions of fem):

A|n: Based on this writer's amazing work and this artist's au. And now this is very long.... I can't just write porn can I? Of well.

Prt:2 is done <3 》》》》》

Be warned I use more Catholic or deamon depiction of our succubus(male) reader, so please expect some body horror esk depictions. Also, the 141 are all in a polycule in this story.

CW: NSFW halfway through after the line break, sex addiction or dependence depicted for reader, threats to health, kind of eating disorder esk, talk of threats/acts of noncon and dubcon to reader (not focused on), polyamory, some talk of religion, why is this so long? And angst??? Ok....

Thinking about being a demon who became the 141's spy. The blood of the damned that ran through you, making you that much more dangerous and that much better at your job.

You fell under the deadly sin of lust, but it's been so many decades that you can't quite remember how you came to be. Maybe reincarnation, maybe you were summoned. It doesn't matter anymore, but it still hindered your intake into the military. You were practically a veteran by the time Price picks you up and drags you into his team.

None of the 141 had ever worked with anyone demonic for an extended amount of time. There had been the call ins and times when they picked up failed missions, but none of them ever really worked with a demon.

Ghost, as a wraith, was the closest any of them had gotten to working with anyone similar to you.

You started out as someone they called to scope out information before a particularly threatening mission. You were just the help, the one they called when they needed a spy. Until they leaned about how every other task force would drop you within a month of calling you thiers.

Price had worried that it was something to do with you or your attitude towards teamwork when he had taken you in, made you one of his men.

That was before he noticed this kind of cycle you would go through. Just when a mission would start, you would pull back. You would separate from everyone, not cold turkey, yet you just wouldn't be present. The training room was one person short, or their would be one less person here on the quieter afternoons he didn't even know this team had.

It was after the missions that you would be more than present again.

You were there again when Soap wanted to run his lycanthopic body to exhaustion just so he could feel just a little more human with the pains it brought. When he was hyper, feeling like he needed to move, you were there to shove him. Drag him into a game of tag or chase or anything to help him move. Soap has never been good at sitting still.

When Gaz needed to be called from the purch he picked to preen his damp or irritated feathers on that was away from the busy noise of the base. Or when his Avian blood told him to take to the sky, you were happy to be taken for a flight or watch him loop around, watch him stretch his wings, across the star splattered skies.

And there you were outside with the nocturnal Ghost, saying you didn't need the sleep most nights and got bored. Even when his form would flicker, tendrils of shadows lashing around his open skin, something that made most run. You stayed with him, hummed a tune you can't remember the origin of, in a language probably only those as old as you would remember.

When Price was struck with phantom pain, when he would feel this pang on his wing only to realize it was from the one that didn't exist anymore. You were there with him. Happy to share a cigar with the smoke that smoldered was neither from his drag nor you. There to sit and fill in paperwork long into the night shift, to just exist around Price when the team was still settling in, or licking wounds.

In the more common areas where Soap would annoy Gaz into another game of cards. You were there to keep the peace.

It had taken Price longer than he was willing to admit to know what was going on. It wasn't some manipulative, carrot and stick, trick no. And it almost seemed like you hadn't consciously been doing it. Before it clicked.

You were a demon, a succubus, to be specific. You fed off of the emotion or the intent of sex.

And you only got that when you needed to get someone to talk. You only lean into it when it's needed for a mission.

He honestly felt stupid, like a leader that failed, but he was quick to right that failure. It wasn't like this team didn't run off and blow off steam together or that they left soap to struggle through his heat alone, nor did they leave Gaz to sit and brood alone. None of that.

And if you were a part of his team, this team, then you can't be starved. Can't be left to weaken, to crave, no. Price wouldn't stand it.

So he talked to the team. Told them his theory, his plan to fix it, and when the team had gotten over the hurt of leaving you alone and weak. They jumped at the opportunity.

Starting small.

Being more openly affectionate around you, never quiet reaching out but still letting the emotions linger.

Those play fights that Ghost would tap out of suddenly just kept going, and those thick visceral emotions none could quiet place the origin of; would hang so heavy in the air you could practically catch it between your teeth.

Those days Gaz would pull back, preen his wings alone; became fewer and far between. Now, the nearest team mate had a lap full of fluffled up wings and pleading eyes. And could Gaz use those honey coated eyes of his to glance up through his lashes and beg.

The quiet chuckles and this ever so pleased emotion would wind around Price's incisors, a satisfied thrill of the dragon flooding a palpable semblance of the satisfied job.

Price started talking about to the team, and they started trying to be more connected, more present, with you so you could have that nourishment. And if that meant that private room doors were left ever so lightly ajar during late nights spent with each other. No one mentioned it.

Soap was the first to notice the actual change.

Your eyes would flicker, puplis vibrating softly before it was shut down, and you would disappear. Or you would actually pull back. He was also the first to tell Price. And thier leader waisted no time.

"You good there, lutenent?" His voice calls softly into your quarters.

"All good Cap."

"Not so sure about that one soldier." Price presses on, taking a step further in to push the door more closed, "You don't play well with this team?"

"No, I have no qualms with any of you. Sorry if it seemed so."

"Ya do always talk so proper like you know?"

"Apologies, old habits."

Price steps closer, easily taking the space offered my your open thighs. Letting that simmering feeling flush his skin.

"Maybe we should start making new ones. What do you say, Sugar?"

His hand hovered just over your throat, careful to keep you feel safe. Price of all people knows what a demon can do when cornered, and it wasn't like he wanted you to feel put off.

He sees what Soap saw, just as his palm cups the edge of your jaw, your pupils flicker. Body dropping almost leaning agaisnt him.

"Why didn't you say something, Suguar?"

"Not of my use in this team."

"You don't need to be useful to eat." He sounded almost angry, calming all the more when you do lean into him, "you never need to earn a meal. Just ask. We all want to help."

That night, he let you ride him.

Laid back against your bed, held your weight by your thighs, and let you set the pace. Even if he was so hard it hurt, or if your dark lion-esk tail would flick across the sensitive inside of his thigh. Or when he's come twice and is practically drooling before he notice just how much more like your kin you look.

He doesn't stop you from flicking a forked tongue over the overwhelmed tears, he only noticed the change at the hitch of your breath when Price tangles his scared hands in your hair. Accidently tracing the curving rams horns that has twisted around your more pointed ears.

Singing your praise, even as you tried and failed to explain that you don't matter in this, just his pleasure.

He shut that down real quick.

[thechanelmuse]

Kendrick, Drake, and Ethnic/Cultural Identity

One of the most discussed topics during this exchange between the two is if Drake is a culture vulture. In short, yes. He's always been. It boils down to inherited cultural identity and respected history, not the upholding of a social construct of “race.” 

Race is a goofy non-biological caste system that operates in various countries and it’s a dumbass global push to get people to embrace a superior to inferior hierarchy in classifying the globe into 5 broad groups solely based on perceived skull sizes, hues of skin color, and perceived traits and phenotypic features via the teachings of François Bernier, Johann Blumenbach, Carl Linnaeus, and them other hoes. Get race tf outta here.

I’m gonna make this concise as possible, but fleshed out a bit for full understanding.

Kendrick Lamar is Black American on both sides with his roots most likely coming out of Mississippi and/or Alabama to Chicago to Cali by way of the Great Migration. (He may even descend from Duckworths from Louisiana). I haven’t done his genealogy, but now I may out of curiosity.

Black American is a double ethnicity. We’re citizens of America (nationality = US Citizen), and our ethnic group (Black) was created & descends from this land (ethnicity = American) through ethnogensis. It has nothing to do with one’s brown skin color or how the cops see us 🙃, but everything to do with the lineage of one’s parents and their parents, etc. (For info on lineage tracing, refer to my post here.) 

Black Americans are an ethnic group (the largest from this land and largest in this country after Germans), while “white Americans” are a self-identification race to remove ethnic identity and conflate numbers. I can break this down further in another post if y’all want since American history is complex and will explain why Black Americans have been reclassified seven times by the US government 🙃. 

Now.

Culture is largely passed down through your mother, and her mother, and her mother, and so forth for Black Americans (and I’m sure other ethnic groups). No matter if it’s a two-parent or single-parent household, she’s your ultimate teacher in setting the foundation of your cultural upbringing. It’s the same if one is raised by their grandparents. It largely stems from the grandmother. If one’s father is their main parent, that’s a different case of course. 

Drake falls in line with this as someone from a single-parent household. He is half Ashkenazi of Latvian and Russian descent (ethnicity) through his mother and of half Black American descent (ethnicity) through his father. He is a dual citizen of Canada and America (nationality), who was raised in Canada with his Ashkenazi Jewish mother and Ashkenazi relatives with an Ashkenazi upbringing. He went to a Jewish day school and was engulfed in all aspects at home. 

Kendrick is ethnically and culturally Black American. Drake is ethnically and culturally Ashkenazi. He is also ethnically Black American (through lineage), but not culturally Black American. Does that make Drake a culture vulture? No. He just didn’t have the cultural upbringing but could always immerse himself in learning, appreciating, and respecting the other half of his history and culture.

What makes him one is how he operates as an outsider. He participates in an aspect of Black American culture (Hip-Hop) for his monetary gain, adopts a manufactured image for his perception of believability, and disrespects the people of this culture. “…run to America to imitate culture.” It’s like a jacket to him. He takes it off to try on another (like a Jamaican accent) and swaps for another, etc. 

A few examples that’s been touched on: He blackened his face to depict blackface while wearing a Jim Crow t-shirt… That’s specific disrespect towards Black Americans, mocking our history and our ancestors. “Whipped and chained you like American slaves.” That’s specific disrespect towards Black Americans, mocking our history and our ancestors. “[You] always rappin' like you 'bout to get the slaves freed.” Do I even need to explain this? Hopefully it’s understood.

The muthafucka is not like us.

[landososcar]

so high school ; JB5

pairing(s) ; jude bellingham x singer!reader , jude bellingham x student!reader

summary ; twitters favourite new(ish) artist drops her new album right during her school year.

warnings ; nothinggggg & mainly just fluff bc i love happy people

note ; SORRY ITS SHORT AHHAHA, i’ll post a new lando fic soon i just have no inspiration… ignore any dates that are wrong or don’t match - im lazy. also this is VERYYYY LOOSLY based off so high school lol (it’s mainly the aristotle line)

instagram !

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youruser surprise !!!!! as an end of term present (for myself🤭🥳) and in honour of knowing the loml for 15 years, here’s 15 new songs for you guys to (hopefully) enjoy 😊 noah, thank you for trusting me and letting me join you on what might be one of my favourite songs ever!! i loveeee youuuu. && to my jude<3 thank you for inspiring me every single day of our lives. i love you bigger than the whole sky 🩵🩵 (guys he’s actually v v talented and he helped me write scared of my guitar, hard to sleep, and feels like) j, you are my safe place and these songs — especially the ones i haven’t let you hear yet — are for you.

ps guys idk how to only write happy songs but jude is the only one who makes me feel safe enough to express my emotions through my songs 😁 i looooovvveee him and am NOT 🙅‍♀️ breaking up with him. he is stuck with me forever💞

‘the alchemy’ is YOURS tonight at midnight 💓

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user1 WHAT

user2 YOU CANT JUST DROP THIS ON US WTF

oliviarodrigo my girl💞💞 i’m so so soooo excited😭

user3 GIRL I KNOW YOU DIDNT JUST CALL THE ALBUM ‘the alchemy’ FOR NO REASON. WHERE TF IS THE TITLE TRACK I KNOW YOUVE GOT HER SOMEWHERE

youruser jude and i love the alchemy the most out of all the songs and wanna keep her just ours for a little bit longer but maybe if you guys enjoy these songs i’ll let you have my baby

user4 YNAJDKJSKDKDIS

user5 WHATTTT songs did she not let jude hear omfg i need to know

youruser he’s heard them all except for daylight, paper rings & so high school lollll

judebellingham refreshing my spotify every minute til midnight you guys don’t understand she’s kept these songs in a VAULT

user6 jude i know you love spotify but apple music get new music 10 minutes early xxx

judebellingham just made an apple music account

user7 TEN MINS TIL THE ALBUM OF THE YEAR DROPS

taylorswift so so proud of you beautiful 🩷🩷

judebellingham I LOVE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH

judebellingham putting ALLLL of these on the pre-game playlist

youruser babe idk if some of these will pump you up before a game

judebellingham hearing your voice will pump me up idc how sad the song is xx

user8 why’s no one talking about how she’s in UNIVERSITY and dropped a FIFTEEN song album like …??? she’s INSANE. WHERE did she find the TIMEEE

user9 not to mention she lives with him in madrid and does school online coz her uni is in the uk

user10 she’s insane i don’t understand how😭😭

imessages !

instagram !

youruser just posted to their close friends story.

twitter !

instagram !

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youruser surprised my fav person in the uk for his england game and he scored for me 😆🩵🩵

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user1 she wrote “you know how to ball” and he said “yeah” then scored a goal and did a celebration for her😭

user2 zoom in on pic 6 and you’ll see me laying on the road waiting to be run over

judbellingham ‘unemployed girlfriend’ but you’re the greatest singer on earth while also doing online uni full time and you still make time to be able to come see me

youruser it’s coz i love you so so bad

jobebellingham you make me sick

youruser i love u too jobeyyyyyy

england our favourite visitor💙💙

user3 how does she do all this whilst going to uni😭😭😭

oliviarodrigo 💖💖💖

judebellingham I LOVVVEEEE YOUUUUU

user4 i NEED the top in pic 8 where is it from

youruser i found it on depop and HAD to buy it😭😭 i think someone made it x

chappellroan HOTTTTT (you not ur bf)

youruser I WOULD DIE FOR YOU MY WIFE💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓

user5 i don’t understand how you write sad songs like the ones on your album if ur ‘in love with jude’

user6 jude deserves better than someone who’s so caught up on and still writes songs about her exes

user7 WHYS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THE LYRICS SHE POSTED ON TWITTER IM GOJNG INSANE

user8 LITERALLY?/!;!!/;@:8@ LIKE ??????? “WHERES THE TROPHY? HE JUST COMES RUNNING OVER TO ME” IS SO JUDE CODED WHEN Y/N IS AT LITERALLY ANY OF HIS GAMES

user7 EXACTLYYYYY HE ALWAYSSS RUNS TO HER IMMEDIATELY AFTER HES ALLOWED TO DO HIS OWN THING. ITS FUCKING ADORABLE

user8 IM SO GLAD SOMEONE UNDERSTANDS ME

user7 were both insane let’s get married

user8 dm me right now wife

youruser liked the comments in this thread

imessages !

instagram !

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youruser lol little life update coz i’ve been m.i.a. for the last almost two months. 1: i went blonde again. 2: my man still as fine as ever. 3: got engaged or whatever lol. 4: slaying up exams. 5: i miss tour so i decided imma come back and see you all soon 🤭🤭 tour dates soon <3

ps in honour of becoming fiance or whatever🤗 the alchemy and 4 other songs are yours on the deluxe version of ‘the alchemy’ ,, out tonight !!!

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user1 WHAT THE FUCK

user2 GIRL LET US BREATHE

harrykane juudddeeeeee!!! congrats🥳❤️

declanrice mr bellingham that is a ROCK

user3 SHE DISAPPEARED FOR TWO MONTHS AND THEN CAME BACK AND DROPPED ALL OF RHAT ON HS

gracieabrams OMG WIFE IS GONNA BE A WIFE

user4 BLONDE YN IS BACK AND SHES A FIANCÉ OH MY GOD

judebellingham WIFE WIFE WIFE‼️‼️‼️

youruser not yet my love but so close🥰

judebellingham I CANT HEAR YOU MY WIFE IS AN ACADEMIC AND LYRICAL GENIUS

user5 she’s still writing break up and sad songs whilst engaged… so weird

user6 yeah and jude helps her,, he must be so disgusted right? seriously get a life and go touch grass

taylorswift so so happy for you 💓💓

youruser 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶 i love you

user7 TOUR TOUR TOUR TOUR TOUR

england juddeeeeee💙 sooo happy for you two

trentarnold ❤️❤️❤️

user8 how girl just gonna casually drop a ENGAGEMENT announcement in the middle of a photo dump

user9 REALLLL LIKE THATS A BIG ASS RING TOO

noahkahanmusic YESSSSS🤍🤍🤍🤍

user10 HOWWWW is miss girl gonna find time in her schedule to do uni, make music, keep a healthy relationship, AND TOUR

judebellingham mrs*

my other works !

[h0bg0blin-meat]

What hindu gods/deities are lgbt (I'm sorry if this is rude or ignorant I just wish to learn as I've heard some are)

Dw it's neither rude nor ignorant. Now before I start I do wanna say that almost all the queerness we see in Hindu mythology is highly subtextual most of the time, which is like pretty obvious cuz these were the ancient times. So this might lead to a varied number of interpretations, and I can only offer the same. But most of them are pretty convincingly queer, so let's get into it cuz why tf not. (This is gonna be a loooooong post so buckle up)

Vishnu

This fella is probably the most pan-coded deity in the entire pantheon. Extremely comfortable with both his masculine and feminine side, Vishnu can sometimes be considered one of the peak genderfluid icons out there. His avatar, Krishna, despite being referred to as the Parampurush (in other words the manliest man in the entire universe), his physical appearance (which is what is considered to be a very feminine body for a man today, i.e., slender and soft) breaks the stereotype of what masculine man should look like. There are paintings of him and Radha where I've stared for like a hot minute trying to figure out which one is Radha (mostly in grayscale cuz otherwise their complexions are a dead giveaway) and yet, he slays it like a badass.

Then we also have Mohini, the goddess of beauty probably the best seductress out there, and the only female avatar of Vishnu. Through her having a union (yk what they mean by that) with Shiva (AHEM subtext amirit), Vishnu gave birth to Ayyappa, and wouldja look at dat he has two dads, which was actually prophesized. Mohini in one of the versions of Mahabharata (not the original one) ALSO slept with Iravan (Arjun's son) the night before he was gonna offer himself as a sacrifice for the Kurukshetra war. Reason was that Iravan had a wish to get married and spend the night with his wife before dying, and wishing his wife would mourn for him after his death. So Krishna felt bad for him, turned himself into Mohini and married him. The next day she held her husband's body and mourned for him like any wife would. We can also go back to the time where he sported (make of that word what you will) with Arjuni (female version of Arjun) as well as the female version of Narad (for a year in the latter's case).

In short, we can see how chill Krishna is with his fluidity with sexuality and gender, so much so that it's hard to put a label on him sometimes, which is fine. But yes interpreting him as queer wouldn't necessarily be a preposterous claim after all.

Shiva

Tbh Shiva is also pretty queer-coded, given his union with Mohini (and yes he specifically ASKED Vishnu to turn into her and hence he KNEW it was his best friend after all), and him turning into a woman to join Krishna's leela that one time, which also denotes that he's pretty confident in his gender fluidity as well, to some extent. He also has a sort of female avatar, who's actually very underrated. I think it's called Shivani. Also no one can deny the tension between Shiva and Vishnu let's be real here. They even have a ship name- Harihar, PLUS that "Vishnu is in the heart of Shiva and Shiva is in the heart of Vishnu" line. Btw this was a joke, but now you know why they're one of the popular ships of Hindu mythology. I personally have very neutral stance to the kind of bond they share, whether you call it platonic or something else.

(Note that I personally do not consider Ardhanarishwar and Vaikunthakamalaja as any genderfluid thingy because I just see them as literal fusions of the two couples, but yes many consider these two fused versions of Parvati-Shiva and Lakshmi-Narayan respectively to be gender-nonconforming, or non-binary of some sort.)

Lakshmi

Why did I add her here? Because I have a feeling she might be bi, given the fact that her husband is also technically her wife, considering we take Mohini into account, who I'm pretty sure she loves just as much as she loves Vishnu. But again, that's just my take on it.

Agni

Now he's one of the more popular queer-coded Hindu gods, specifically known for his implied poly-esque relationship with his wife Svaha and Soma (the wind god). Now many sites on Google have claimed Soma to be his husband, but I am yet to find a scriptural evidence for that claim, so I suggest you to take their words with a grain of salt. But what IS true is that these two guys do share a pretty profound bond. There was also this one instance where Soma went to a mountain and Agni followed him. Then both of them at the top of that mountain, 'became one' (what does that mean? not sure but it sure as hell sounded romantic. anyways). Also Soma is considered the "seed" and Agni the "progenitor" hence releasing the "seed". Now again what does that mean? Idk but that's sus as hell for sure.

Plus, Agni is also very well-known to be the (oral) receptor of Shiva's (and sometimes Soma's but not sure about the second one) semen, which he then flung into Ganga cuz it was too hot to bear for him, and that's how Kartikeya/Murugan/Skanda (Shiva and Parvati's son and a God of war) was born. So yeah.

Mitra-Varuna

These two.... are another pair of popular queer-coded Hindu deities. They're almost always summoned and worshipped together, and you can say they have canonically.... well had a union, and good news is none of them became a woman for the deed. Their union is recorded in the Shatapatha Brahmana 2.4.4.19, where Mitra is said to have "implanted his seed in Varuna" (hmmm nothing homosexual going on here) during the waning moon. Many people consider this a metaphor for the cyclic nature of celestial phenomena so it's upto you to interpret it however you want.

Now they also give off that sunshine x grumpy vibe, with Mitra being the god of friendship, sun, daylight, dawn and stuff while Varuna is the god of the waters, moon, nighttime, dusk etc. Plus, the latter has anger issues but he has a bubbly Mitra (pun intended) to calm him down for dat :D.

They are also known for siring two sages, Agastya and Vasistha after they accidentally released and mixed their semen into a pot as a result of getting enchanted by Urvashi (one of the apsaras or celestial nymphs).

Budh and Ila

Budh is technically an AMAB non-binary (or intersex) deity (and technically the planet Mercury) born to Chandra (who's also synonymous to Soma most of the time) and Tara, to put it simply, and got cursed to be neither male nor female because Chandra had an affair with someone else's wife -_- (Tara was the wife of Brihaspati, or Jupiter, who was also the guru of the gods).

Ila is another genderfluid deity. Some versions of the myth says they were born a woman, some say they were born a man called Sudyumna, while some say they were born a woman, but since their parents wanted a son, Mitra-Varuna (who they preyed to) changed their gender and Sudyumna was born (but then there was some issue with the rituals, which led to the duo to turn him back to a woman, which is when they took the name of Ila. Ik, too much gendershifting going on, bear with me). Anyhoo they got this genderfluidity from Shiva's spell and every month they'd change sex from Sudyumna to Ila and back to Sudyumna and so on. Budh got enchanted by Ila and married her, and bore the Pururavas with her.

Later on, some versions say Ila permanently turned into a man with Parvati's boon. But personally interpreting, Budh was technically still married to Sudyumna so..... idk what happened to them afterwards tho. I hope they were still spouses...

[skelliko]

Kazutora Hanemiya |°- crushing misunderstanding

|°-context: kazutora is crushing on you but he sees you and akkun walking together and assumes that you're both together making kazutora's heart to break not knowing that you and akkun are simply friends - mainly fluff not angst

final time line: 4th Division Captain: Kazutora Hanemiya Vice-captain: Atsushi Sendo (Akkun)

kazutora couldn't help but notice the scene that he had accidentally stumbled upon on, before he was gonna ignore it and think nothing much of it until he double looked and his heart managed to stagger in emotions, akkun walking with his school crush. kazutora's school crush.

despite akkun being Vice-captain of the forth division and them being good friends there's still things that kazutora doesn't mention and one of them being is who his heart flutters to.

his mind went to so many scenarios and reasons as to why, out of everyone it'd be you two who walk together and not only that but also holding little brown bakery bags, as if you both had bought a sweet desert together, and are about to enjoy it in each others company.

'no no no no no... their not though? are they?!' his mind was more than a mess

theres no other explanation other than your both either on a date or dating. or even worse, in an actual relationship. kazutora's mind went to so many lengths as he pondered and stalked you both, hiding behind corners, bushes and bus stops to wherever you both are walking to,

he was desperate to find out what was going on even though he knows he needs to let go and back tf up.

'akkun has never mentioned having a girlfriend though, let alone that he's talking to a girl...' that certainly reassured him a little but only for a few seconds when his overthinking took over again

'but maybe that's cause no one asked or mentioned anything! and here he is with the girl that I like, for fucks sake!'

he tried to get close to the both of you to try and hear what you guys were talking about but while doing so self awareness had hit him, he didn't want to get caught lurking around, if a bystander seen what kazutora was doing then a clear title would be placed on him 'stalker'

he kind of just stood there in the middle of the pathway, watching as the both of you walked ahead having your own little moment. it was like kazutora was a small puppy being cast out and away from it's owners. for a short moment he had grown upset, he accepted that him and you were never gonna be because Akkun has already taken your attention.

when he took half a step backwards to turn around and not invade your privacy any longer, it was then that you had turned around making kazutora to be captivated. it wasn't just your beauty that had made him freeze and his heart to grow wings and flutter but it was you smiling and waving at him... him, kazutora, no one else, your eyes were stuck onto kazutora.

his heart was left uncontrolled and skipped all around his body whilst his main focus was to bite down the corner of the inside of his mouth to stop him from smiling like a little kid and getting all giddy for you just simply noticing him. it felt unreal to him in that moment that he had forgotten to wave back, and he was too busy on not smiling like an idiot that he didn't even smile back at all. well now he feels like a complete fool and should be shut out of society forever.

*inserts image of grieving shinji on a chair* -how kazutora feels right now

a whole week went by after that encounter, and since then in school kazu and you haven't had a full conversation, sure you've exchanged a few small words but then he'd cut it off with an excuse to leave all due to wanting to give respect for you and akkun.

before, the both of you would be talking non stop in the middle of lesson, being the teachers most annoying students that can't shut up and are always an nuisance to deal with. it's gotten to the point where after you both stoped talking even the teacher pointed it out Infront of the whole class, "some argument happened between you two?" like c'mon... why is it always those teachers that think they can get involved and think pointing things out to be funny. they get in-between everything.

it left an empty pit in his stomach not being able to talk to you the way he wants to. all because in this setting he chose to put his friends first before himself.

-- some time later ---

"so akkun, you got any plans with y/n?" asking that question hurt him more than it should have, but he needs to get over it soon enough. only after he gets an understanding at what stage the both of you are at. 3 month mark? secretly wishing.

"don't think so, why'd you ask?"

"nothing nothing, just curious. I'm surprised that she'd be with someone like you" it was supposed to come out as regular boy banter and laugh it off but instead he didn't watch his tone and grew blunt about it as if he'd meant it. in which he did.

it took akkun a few silent seconds to process his response and what kazu had just assumed "be with?" purposely ignoring kazutora's sudden burst of agitation and instead focusing on the question itself. "you think me and her are together... as in dating?"

"well you two seem to be quite close, no?"

"kazutora. no. were friends, full heartedly friends" while motioning his hands out to emphasize how baffling and wrong kazutora's question was.

if crickets were around the city they'd be loud, but instead all there could be heard was the click of kazu's tongue before replying "...Oh. shit"

akkun couldn't help but snort out a laugh, whereas kazutora on the other end was looking back and regretting everything which included ignoring you. but he had a good reason to, right? I mean how exactly was he supposed to know that you two were just friends?

many ways actually, sure, but he put his friends first and that's what had mattered, before at least. now, kazutora is trying to figure out ways on how to approach you without seeming like a douche for abruptly leaving and then coming back.

"wait, you like her??" it only then clicked into akkun's head making him perk up about why you even became a conversation topic.

"I bet she hates me" burrowing his face into his hands and feeling all sulky. didn't fully answer akkun's question but that small sentence answered a lot without meaning to.

"you do! you like-like her!" first time hearing about this and he instantly stood up from his seat, oh he was gonna have fun with this information. he can either tease the hell out of kazutora or help him out. but currently he'll torment him first.

"keep it down! dont need anyone hearing" lifting his head up from his hands and looking around the open area

"who's gonna hear? I'm not name dropping, or unless you're embarrassed" tormenting kazutora by making him think of you.

"of course not... maybe. but that's besides the point" kazu ended up explaining things from how he saw you and akkun but left out some details such as him following them to how things went with you and kazu at school.

"dug yourself a hole there I'll be honest, why didn't you ask me first before assuming?" -akkun

"didn't want to draw much attention on the subject"

"oh right right..." not right actually, don't exactly know what that was supposed to mean but didn't want to press on about it. after a short moment of silence it seemed like something was supposed to be done otherwise dragging the gap between you and kazu any further and it might be too much to fix. though luckily a little plan had settled into akkun's mind, after all he was close enough to you to be considered good friends. "I'll help you, don't worry"

♡----

a/n: I could have written the plan/aftermath n' that but I got lazy

[cieloclercs]

what would you say (if i told you i love you)? — charles leclerc

PART: 1/?

summary. in which childhood best friends blur the lines between what they’ve always known, and something more

warnings. swearing, reader and charles are oblivious idiots but they’re cute so it’s ok, ending is annoyingly abrupt (sorry)

pairings. charles leclerc x artsy!reader

face claim. tara michelle

author’s note: so this is a multi-part social media fic inspired by this ask that i’ve been working on for a while. as always, all media and pictures used in this belongs to the original creators. hope you guys enjoy! ps, all i really know about art is what i learned in my gcse class (and my teacher was awful) so if i use any incorrect terminology at any point in this series i’m so sorry! i’m trying my best 🫶

liked by pierregasly and 11,386 others

yourusername monaco summer 🐚🌊🦋☁️

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yourfriend prettiest ever 🥹

yourusername oh hush you 🤭

username girl your figure 😮

username she literally has my dream body 😭

charles_leclerc no photo credits? 😃

yourusername 🙄🙄 photo creds to char ig

arthur_leclerc looking a little windswept there

yourusername do you want me to block you again

arthur_leclerc no thanks u look very pretty !!!!

yourusername aww thank you arth 🥰

username wait who tf is this girl and how does she know charles??

username she’s his childhood best friend! they’ve known each other since they were five 🫶

username i firmly believe y/n y/l/n is a goddess not a human being

*charles_leclerc liked this comment

username CHARLES WHAT THE FUCK???

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tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc opening day for y/n’s latest exhibition, ‘flow’! je suis très fière de toi, mon artiste. ne jamais cesser de rêver 🌊 / beyond proud of you, my artist. never stop dreaming

view all comments…

username now if this isn’t obsessed boyfriend behaviour then i don’t know what is

yourusername aww charlie 🥹 merci de m'avoir soutenu, je vous en serai toujours reconnaissant / thank you for supporting me, i’m forever grateful

charles_leclerc toujours

username and they say they’re just friends?? THIS IS NOT FRIEND BEHAVIOUR

username omg these paintings are so beautiful! what’s the exhibition about?

charles_leclerc it’s a study of water and the ocean!

username they way he’s answering questions about y/n’s own exhibition for her 😭 babes ur not subtle x

username she’s so talented wtf

*charles_leclerc liked this comment

leclerc_pascale Incroyable 😍

yourusername merci, maman 🥰

username SHE CALLS PASCALE MAMAN OH MY GOD???

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yourusername summer break, week one ✅

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username everyone say ‘thank you y/n’ for feeding us the soft charles content 🥹

username thank you y/n 🙏

joris_trouche elvis is the star of this dump

yourusername i’ll let him claw you again

joris_trouche PLEASE DONT

charles_leclerc woah who’s that handsome guy in slide 2? 😏

yourusername you wouldn’t know him he’s kind of annoying x

charles_leclerc ouch

username charles featuring twice?? we’re losing her 😔

username three guesses who took the pictures of y/n

username hmm…joris? 🤔

username try again

username elvis 🤨

username close!! but not quite

username is it maybe…charles?!

*charles_leclerc liked this comment

username bingo!!

username trade lives with me please 😫

charles_leclerc i hope summer never ends

yourusername you and me both

username he doesn’t want to go back to the sf-23 and ferrari fucking up his race every week 😔

*yourusername liked this comment

username LMAO Y/N LIKED

username she’s just as sick of ferrari’s shit as we are

joris_trouche everyone ignoring the fact that i’m also in this dump as well !!!

charles_leclerc mate you’re not even looking at the camera

username GAHAHAHA CHARLES

➜ part 2

[leiawritesstories]

Impossible

Rowaelin Month 2024, Day 13: Finding Out They're Pregnant @rowaelinscourt

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: medical talk, hospitals, mentions of infertility, vague depictions of medical tests

A/N: this is a little bit self-indulgent but also therapeutic--i had surgery for endometriosis this past summer, and part of recovering from that was how tf do i process all the implications of this diagnosis??? well...writing helps. anyway. Aelin has endo in this fic, but things go very different for her than they did for me lol.

Enjoy :)

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It was still dark outside when Aelin’s alarm went off, the cheery tune she’d chosen breaking through her restless scraps of dreaming. With a mild groan, she rolled over and tapped the screen of her phone multiple times before she managed to turn off the alarm, eliciting a sleepy chuckle from her husband behind her. She poked him in the shoulder and stuffed her pillow over her head. 

“Five more minutes,” she mumbled. “Got another alarm.” 

Rowan tugged the pillow off of her head and fluffed it up. “Mmmkay, go back to sleep, love.” He tugged her back against his side, and she closed her eyes. 

And her alarm went off five minutes later. She grumbled at it, but she carefully extricated herself from Rowan’s embrace, turned off her alarm, and pushed herself out of bed. Leaving a kiss on his forehead, she tucked the blankets up and went quietly into the bathroom. A clean set of clothes already sat on the shelf beside the shower, and she smiled softly at her husband’s quiet thoughtfulness. She went through the motions of the shower rhythmically, her body working on muscle memory due to the too-early hour, making sure to scrub extra well with the antibacterial soap. Finished, she dried off and put on the clean, comfortable clothes Rowan had set out—sweatpants and a loose shirt. 

He was awake and half-dressed when she emerged from the bathroom, and his glasses sat crooked on his nose. She chuckled softly and straightened the wire frames, and he caught her wrists and tugged her gently into his lap. “Hey.” Fingers threaded through her loose, damp hair. “Want braids?” 

“Yeah.” She passed him her brush and two hair ties, and he carefully wove the blonde waves into twin braids down past her shoulder blades. “Someday, our future daughter is going to only want you to do her hair for school.” 

“Biggest win ever.” His voice, like hers, held a touch of muted yearning, weighed down by the hopelessness of two years trying to conceive without success. Aelin had been diagnosed with stage 3 endometriosis in her last year of college, while they were engaged, and she had put off surgery until her doctor finally said that the excision procedure was the best thing she could do for her chance of having a family. 

“I’m nervous,” she admitted. “I know Dr. T said this is the best thing for us right now, but I…I almost don’t want to hope.” 

“Fireheart,” Rowan breathed, standing so he could wrap his wife in his embrace. “It’s going to be okay, my love. I have more than enough hope for both of us.” 

“I love you,” she whispered. 

She held his hand the whole way to the hospital. 

When they arrived, the receptionist waved them towards the procedure center waiting area, and they sat down and waited in the early-morning quiet. Only a few others were there, including an older couple, a middle-aged woman, a half-asleep man, and a woman about Aelin’s age sitting with her mother. 

“Galathynius?” Aelin stood up and went to the desk, and she gave the receptionist her information. It only took a few minutes, and soon she was back in her seat with a green hospital bracelet around her right wrist and a clipboard with some papers on it. She handed Rowan the slip of paper with her patient information and went to work on the few forms. It was only a short while before a nurse with a softly lined face walked into the waiting area and called for Aelin, and she squeezed Rowan’s hand as she stood up. 

“I’ll see you soon,” she promised, and she followed the nurse through the double doors into the pre-procedure area. They walked down a quiet, gray-tiled hallway, the faint scent of disinfectant lingering in the sterile air. 

The nurse—her nametag read Philippa—stopped by a restroom door. “First question, Aelin.” She held out a clear plastic cup. “Did you remember to come with a full bladder?” 

“I did.” Aelin smiled. “Almost like I’ve had practice with this kind of thing.” 

Philippa chuckled. “Okay then, I don’t need to give you instructions. Go ahead, and when you’re done, I’ll be at the desk over there.” She gestured. “Take your time.” 

Aelin went into the bathroom and closed the door. Pregnancy screening was required as part of the pre-procedure preparations, and it was almost too familiar, almost too easy, to take care of the urine sample and close up the plastic cup. So many tests flickered before her eyes, so many single lines, so many negative results. The only thing that gave her any hope was that Dr. Yrene was firmly convinced that this surgery would improve her chances of conceiving, since the endometriosis lesions would no longer be there to interfere with things. She handed Philippa the cup and followed her down to a small, clean room, where a hospital gown, cap, and socks sat on the bed beside a plastic sack and a sleeve of chlorhexidine wipes. 

“You know what to do, I’m sure, but I still have to give you the rundown.” Philippa let Aelin take a seat in the chair across from the bed and wrapped a blood pressure cuff around her right arm. “Wash with the wipes and change into the gown, blah blah blah, and your nurse will come in to get you all hooked up and ready to go.” She checked the blood pressure reading and jotted it down. “Oh, and if there’s anything else we need you to do, your nurse will let you know. Looks like you’ll have Sorscha, and she’s wonderful.” 

“Thank you,” Aelin murmured, giving the older woman a grateful smile as she left the room and closed the door. She had just finished getting herself into the gown and bright yellow socks when there was a rapping on the door and a woman of about her own age with soft caramel skin and a warm smile cracked open the door and poked her head into the room. 

“Aelin, right?” 

“That’s me.” Aelin sat down against the pillows. “Right on time.” 

“I’m Sorscha.” The nurse came into the room. “I’m sorry to disturb you before you might be ready, but your pregnancy screening came back positive.” 

The world around Aelin went silent. 

She shook her head slowly, bringing herself back into the present. “I…what?” Her breath hitched, shock creeping up her throat, and she clasped her hands together in front of her stomach. “It has to be a false positive; there’s not a chance I’m actually…” Pregnant. The word she couldn’t let herself say. 

Sorscha looked down at her clipboard, flipped a few papers. “Would you like to take a digital test by yourself? It could be a false positive, and we do need to be absolutely sure of the result because you’re scheduled to go under general anesthesia.” 

Aelin nodded. “Yes, please. I do want to take another test.” 

“Got it.” Sorscha walked her back to the bathroom and grabbed a digital test from the nurse’s station. She handed the box to Aelin and let her go into the bathroom alone. “Bring it on out when you’re done, okay? There is a possibility that we might have to do an ultrasound if you think you’ve had a false positive, but that’s easy to do.” She squeezed Aelin’s trembling hand. “You’re going to be okay, Aelin.” 

“Okay.” More hesitantly than before, Aelin went into the bathroom, locked the door, sat down, and took the pregnancy test out of the box. She went through the motions robotically, tucked the test back into the cap, and turned it over while she waited. Questions spun around her head at the speed of light, but she pushed them away, weighing them down with the strength of her doubt. She knew her ovulation window, and she’d had her period regularly. It just…it wasn’t possible. 

The timer pinged, and Aelin picked up the test, turned it over, and read the single line of text displayed on the tiny gray screen. And her whole body trembled, shaken by the force of hope that crashed into her as she read that second test. 

Pregnant. 3+. 

Shakily, she walked out and wordlessly handed the test to Sorscha, who took one look at it and helped Aelin sit down in the nearest chair. “You’re going to be okay,” she said again, reassuring Aelin as the tears finally broke free and spilled down her face. 

“I—” A great shuddering sob wrenched Aelin’s shoulders, and she just let her body loose to the tide of overpowering shock and disbelief and wonder and worry. “I think I’m dreaming,” she choked out, her words broken with tears. “It’s been two years; I didn’t think it was possible.” She wiped her eyes. “God, I’m sorry, here you are just trying to do your job and I’ve turned into a hot mess express in front of everyone.” She sniffled. 

Sorscha gave her a hug, and Aelin leaned into the comforting gesture. “How about we go back to your pre-op room and talk about next steps?” 

“Okay.” Aelin followed Sorscha back to the room, and she sat down on the bed while the nurse pulled up her charts on the computer. “So…what now?” 

“Well, the main thing is that you won’t be able to have the surgery that you were scheduled for, but that’s a very good thing because you’re pregnant.” Sorscha clicked through a few things. “I’ve paged your doctor, and she should be in soon to discuss what she wants you to do, but my suspicion is that she’ll order an immediate ultrasound to check on things and maybe have you do some blood tests. It’s convenient that you’re in the hospital, because you don’t have to go anywhere.” 

Aelin laughed softly, flicking stray tears away from her face. “Okay.” 

Right on cue, there was another knock on the door, and Dr. Yrene Towers came in, her copper curls tied back into a bun. “Well hello, Aelin! Seems like today might not go exactly as we planned.” 

“That’s one way to say it,” Aelin agreed. 

The doctor looked over at the charts that Sorscha had pulled up. “Okay, Aelin, I’d like for you to go up to the imaging clinic and get an ultrasound done.” She stepped over to the computer and rapidly typed up an order that she sent to the imaging center. “Since a surgeon ordered it, they’ll be able to do it right away, and this will either confirm your pregnancy for certain or prove that you had false positives. In the first case, we’ll turn to prenatal care, and in the second, we can go ahead with surgery. How does that sound?” 

“Sounds great.” Aelin glanced down at herself. “Should I change?” 

“Actually, it might be easier if you kept the gown on for now, since they’ll probably want to do an internal ultrasound.” Dr. Yrene looked over at Sorscha. “Can you take her to imaging, Sorscha?” 

“Of course.” 

“Perfect.” 

Sorscha slipped out of the room and came back a few minutes later with a wheelchair, and she got Aelin settled and took her down the hallways and up an elevator to the fourth floor, where the imaging clinic was located. She spoke briefly to the receptionist and took Aelin into the clinic, bringing her into a softly-lit room. An ultrasound tech was waiting, Aelin’s order pulled up on her screen. She conferred briefly with Sorscha and helped Aelin get situated on the exam bed. 

After a brief explanation and demonstration of the ultrasound probe, the tech started the scan, and it was only a few minutes before Aelin looked over at the screen opposite her and saw a teeny tiny baby moving gently around inside of her uterus. 

The tears welled up again, and she didn’t stop them. 

“Congratulations,” the tech murmured, and she clicked away at the ultrasound machine, making notes and recording measurements. Aelin stared at the image of the tiny baby, overcome by an emotion so strong she didn’t have the proper words for it, and she was surprised when the tech finished the exam and asked her if she wanted prints of the images. 

Sorscha came back and took Aelin back down to the pre-procedure area, and she found herself back in the exam room with her ultrasounds, waiting for Yrene. The doctor brought in her own set of Aelin’s ultrasounds, and she was beaming when she came into the room. 

“I’m so happy for you and your husband,” she said. “He doesn’t know yet, of course, but when we bring him back, you’ll be able to tell him all about it. Did you want to wait for him to discuss prenatal care, or would you like to talk about the details with me first?” 

“Tell me first.” Aelin stroked her thumb over the black-and-white images. “I want to know how far I am and why the heck I didn’t know.” 

Yrene chuckled. “Well, according to the way things are measuring and the dates you’ve tracked for ovulation, you are twelve and a half weeks, almost out of the first trimester.” She pointed to part of one image. “Now, the reason you didn’t know is probably partially due to your endometriosis giving you false periods and partially because, as you see here, you have an anterior placenta, which means that the placenta is in the front of the uterus. So, you might not show any bump until later in pregnancy, and it will probably not be quite as big as you might expect.” She ran through a list of more details, pointing out relevant things on the ultrasounds. “All right, then, I think we’re ready to bring your husband back. Is there anything else you want to ask me?” 

“Could you have them do the blood draw before you bring Rowan back? I want to have it all taken care of before he sees me.” 

“Of course.” Yrene spoke quietly to Sorscha, and when the blood draw was done and Aelin had a small bandage in the crook of her elbow, both the nurse and the doctor left the room. It was Yrene who walked in shortly later with Rowan, and she grinned at Aelin as she left the two of them alone. 

“Hey, Fireheart.” Rowan’s brows furrowed in confusion as he looked around the room. “Is something wrong?” 

She shook her head. “Not at all.” 

“But you’re…” 

“I know.” She looked down at herself, still in the hospital gown but not hooked up to IVs and monitors like he’d expected her to be. “They can’t do the surgery right now, Rowan.” Her throat thickened, and she looked up at her husband with tears gleaming in her eyes. “Because I’m pregnant.” 

“What?!” He staggered backwards, his body going nearly boneless as he collapsed into the chair, shock and hope washing over his face. 

Aelin handed him the ultrasound photos, watched the joy brighten his features as he drank in the sight of their tiny baby cradled inside of her. “Twelve and a half weeks, and I didn’t believe the tests until I saw the ultrasound.”

“Fireheart,” he breathed, standing so he could go to her and wrap her in his loving arms. His tears dropped into her hair, but she ignored them, just as he ignored how her tears blotched his shirt. “This…I think this is the best thing that could have happened.” 

She chuckled through her tears. “Almost—I can’t have the surgery until after I give birth, but this is…definitely something we both hoped for.” 

“Yeah.” So gently, his thumb swept the tears from her cheeks. “And twelve weeks?”

“Yeah.” Grinning, she lifted his slack jaw back into place. “Dr. Yrene will talk to both of us about where we go from here.” He nodded, and she let him sit down on the bed beside her and loop his arm around her waist, his strength always her rock. The doctor walked back in and beamed at both of them, and she sat down and gave them a whole list of prenatal instructions. 

“But really, most of all, you know what works best for you and your health,” she concluded. “I like to tell my patients not to get too obsessed with the mommy books and social media mom advice, but gods know I can’t control that. I’ll see you in a few weeks, okay?” 

“Thank you so much.” Aelin impulsively hugged her doctor. After Yrene left, she turned back to Rowan, and she brushed the stray tears off of his chin. “It’s good news, love. It’s such good news.” 

“I know.” He passed her clothes to her, and she changed out of the hospital gown. A nurse came back to walk them out of the hospital, and they left with a completely different set of instructions than they’d expected when they arrived only a couple of hours earlier. 

 An entirely different outcome, but a miracle nonetheless.

~~~

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[oh-no-its-bird]

Madara as Regina Mills and the Infinite Tsukuyomi as his curse, season 1 of Once Upon a Time style

Tobirama as Emma, coming in to break the curse, and Hashirama kind of filling the roll of Snow White, the brothers unable to recognize or remember each other but feeling each other's loss all the same (which in itself is kind of the greatest punishment for Izuna's death that Madara could give, save for actually killing one of them)

Maybe Kagami as Henry? Him somehow breaking through the curse and finding Tobirama and trying to bring him back to the little town of Konoha, knowing he's one of the only people who can get through to Madara. But also Tobirama doesnt remember anything anyways, so to him he's just humoring this kid

Ok actually scratch, rewind, lets take this from the top;

Ok so. Madara casts the Infinite Tsukuyomi, but instead of it being a dream it casts Konoha into the modern world, where everyone is given some role to fill in the little town of Konoha, and only Madara remembers how they all got there.

Madara sets some stuff up, like gives certain people certain roles and memories, and also bc something something magic something something the perfect dream, within the bounds of the town, Izuna + some other dead people exist. Madara isn't especially focused on the other dead, just Izuna, so he actually is partially unaware of the details of who else may have gotten revived (Itama is totally there somewhere, lost in the crowds)

Now, Madara did not truly design this town, nor the lives of the people in it. He could have, but he didn't bc he was a bit focused on just his own wants. So a lot of families got separated, things got mixed up, that sort of thing. Including the Senju brothers. Hashirama and Itama have no idea that they're siblings, and Tobirama is another ballpark all on his own.

You see, in a bit of a petty act and also a bit of paranoia bc 'something something best sensor in history' something something 'dont wanna take any chances' and also definitely a bit of last minute impulsive 'hey fuck you, I get my brother back but you dont, bitch' Madara pressed the "you are just a normal man who has no family" illusion onto Tobirama then kicked him out of town

With that said and done, Izuna by his side, Hashirama also positioned suitably close (maybe as an aid since he's Madara is the mayor?) Madara goes ahead and pats himself on the back and enters the Infinite Tsukuyomi himself, forgetting it all and able to truly live that happy, blissfully unaware life he had worked so hard for.

(Just ignore the burning fires in the background where Madara didn't think to double check if anyone else's roles lined up well with their original selves. Or the fact that Itama and some other dead people are totally wandering around in the bg, both them, their families, and even Madara none the wiser)

So anyways, just like in Once Upon a Time, time itself is pretty much frozen. No one ages, every day runs about the same, and honestly who knows how long this town has been here now-- because its residents sure as hell dont!

But then.

One day, somehow little Kagami somehow awakens the Mangekyō Sharingan, possibly through a pure chance fluke of the illusion wavering for unrelated reasons (bc it also supresses any chakra use) and Kagami's mangekyō's ability, whatever tf it is, allows him to break himself out of the genjutsu.

Making him now the only person in the town who's aware of the fact that they're all in some sort of illusion-- though the details escape him bc hes like. 13 and didn't know everything happening behind the scenes.

Oh also note, the ages and time frame of this is just all over the place and we will not think ab it too hard.

So Kagami ofc begins to investigate, he has very little idea of whats going on at all but he does quickly pick up on the fact that he can find just about anyone in Konoha here-- but not his sensei. And Sensei always knows what to do, so now he has a mission

Queue Kagami somehow tracking Tobirama down in the outside world, just like Henry did with Emma. Don't know the specifics of how tho!

So now cut to Tobirama:

First off, him as a parallel to Emma Swan is actually so good its kind of funny. I say he gets to keep being somehow able to 'know when someone is lying' (it's the traces of his obnoxiously powerful sensing abilities leaking even through the best of genjutsu)

He's some kind of private detective maybe? Idk but whatever he is, he's freelance and travels a lot

(Which helps keep attention from the fact that he, even removed from the town, does not seem to age-- something even he himself has not noticed)

So Tobirama is just living his kind of shitty, honestly a little depressing life. He has no attachments; He always feels like he's missing something or someone; He can never seem to connect with anyone, and people even seem to forget he exists when he's out of sight for too long (almost as if they're made to forget, as if he really was never meant to be here or be seen)

And then one day this tiny kid is banging on his door calling him Sensei and begging him in tears to come back to the village because everyones gone crazy and someones cast a genjutsu over EVERYONE and Izuna is somehow alive again and--

Woah woah slow down. First, who the fuck are you actually.

*insert stressed Kagami brain car crash noises here*

So yeah !! Tobirama doesn't know who tf this kid is, but he will drive him back to town and give his parents a good talking to.

Hikaku, Kagami's polite and stressed looking uncle, is very relieved to see him back home

Kagami is literally begging Tobirama to stay it's actually painful to watch and no one can understand why he's so fucking pressed about it. And for some reason, Tobirama decides to stay. But only for a little bit, you hear?

(It will not be for a little bit.)

And just like that, the clock tower begins to move, and time begins to pass once more. And both Kagami and Tobirama slowly piece together what exactly happened to get them here, and how the town might be broken out of it's enchantment

OK SO WITH THAT SET UP / PREMISE ON THE GROUND LETS TALK FUN DETAILS

So like. Tobirama and Hashirama having no idea they're brothers. Double to that, Itama is somewhere around! And no one fucking knows it!

Madara does not know what he's done, he is living his best life fr fr, but in contrast to how Hashirama and Tobirama seem to instantly click, Madara just kind of fucking hates this guy on sight for some reason. There's a lot of tension there and everyone in the office is making bets on if they're gonna kiss (Izuna has money riding on it)

So like Madara, Izuna, Hikaku and Hashirama running the mayors office n stuff, with Madara as the mayor

Tobirama eventually ends up as Sherrif just like Emma which is also irony bc smthn smthn Uchiha police force agenda or whatever. And then him and Madara regularly get into very public fights over clashing ideals

Im tied between saying that the timeline for this is like, just wishy washy "hey dont worry ab it" and tossing in Kakashi's generation + others for fun and to fill in spaces

Or saying that just like how the Infinite Tsukuyomi seemed to bring some people back to life within the boundaries of the town, there are some legit time bending aspects of it, and just like how we have people who are supposed to be dead, we also have people who just shouldn't be born yet. Fun stuff!

But like Kakashi Obito and Rin are totally around. Somwhere. Also Sakumo but Kakashi still believes his father is dead and Sakumo can no longer remember Kakashi exists (rip)

Itama is the towns one weed dealer and also a plant scientist bc I fucking refuse to give up on the stoner Itama agenda, that is my default Itama in every AU now. Oh also he's like an adult, and we're also sticking with the him and Tobirama being twins agenda

He and Tobirama meeting for the first time with sheriff Tobirama arresting him for selling weed pass would be the funniest thing

Touka is the deputy sheriff and she and Tobirama get along like a house on fire, and then bc convoluted reasons they somehow rope Itama into working w them for parole/community service or smthn. Dream team!!

But yeah thats it thats the post thanks for listening Im gonna go stare at a wall now