#but this time the target has healing powers

[maximumzombiecreator]

This is a long story, I apologize, but it happened recently so it's top of mind and I think it's a great example of this.

The party in my pathfinder 2e campaign are currently competing in a tournament. (Sidenote: I would very much recommend tournaments as a structure to anyone running PF2e. This is a crunchy, combat-as-sport game with a ton of extremely situational but powerful items, spells, and abilities. In a structure where the characters are given the ability to research and prep for their opponents, the system absolutely sings.) It has been a long tournament, six rounds of qualifiers and then a 64 team double elimination bracket, but they are in the losers bracket in the top 4.

Their opponents are one of the teams they've tentatively made friends with over the course of the tournament, but the grand prize is a matter of life or death for both sides. No punches will be pulled. Over the course of the tournament, the party has faced opponents with a wide range of skills, synergies, and strategies. This team isn't the most powerful in the tournament, but they're in the top 4 because they are the smartest team in the tournament. That's how the characters became friends with them in the first place: when the party needed help analyzing their enemies and finding weaknesses, they went to this team. Now, they know that same analytical eye is going to be applied to them.

To ensure the players' expectations are aligned with what the characters would know, I am very frank with them. I tell them that I sat down and looked at every fight they'd done in the tournament, and any strategy, ability, or approach that they used repeatedly, the enemy had planned for. I didn't cheat, didn't give them anything they couldn't get access to in their prep time, but I had done all the planning the enemy would have, and I am very prepared to win.

The party decides their best approach is to do something new, something the enemy can't have seen coming. They buy scrolls of Water Walking for the whole party and bid their tournament currency on the flooded arena layout, one they haven't had to fight in yet.

This pays off massively for them. I hadn't had the enemy prep for that, and with only one of them having much skill in athletics, swimming is a weak point for them. This confines them to the few sections of platforms and bridges that are above the water, as well as a single raft. The party takes advantage of their superior mobility to split the enemy, and go after the softer targets. I'm forced to dig deep through their abilities and spells, narrowly managing through a few lucky misses to keep all the enemies alive and consolidate their position onto a single bridge.

Once everyone is on solid ground again, reflexively, the party falls into their old habits. And that, unfortunately, is just according to keikaku. The enemy knows just where to position themselves, has just the right consumables and spells on hand. Attacks of opportunity shred their attempts to heal. Dispels rip through their magical defenses. The inventor is forced to shatter his shield to survive a brutal critical, and in a panic, the party falls back onto the water and throws down a smoke cloud to protect themselves from the onslaught of arrows raining down. Just as they've done in a half dozen other fights. And, so, the enemy is prepared. Beads of Fireball, purchased with the same tournament currency the party used to buy this arena, are hurled into the smoke, blasting every one of the player characters down into critical health.

The enemy front liners leap down onto the raft to pursue and finish off the rapidly depleting party healer. The martials rush in to stop them, and the players' dice betray them while mine do not. In a brutal exchange, both of the party martials are dropped, leaving only the healer and the bard on critical health. Neither of them are capable of dealing any significant damage.

We all realize that the fight is as good as over. I'm disappointed. The drama of the tournament had been building, and I was excited for the climax. But, apparently, that's not what this story is. That's okay, I can roll with it. I just have to finish off this fight.

The party healer, a divine sorceress, realizes that after charging in and getting on the raft, all the enemies are, coincidentally, standing in a line. She starts casting a spell.

Inner Radiance Torrent is one of my favourite pathfinder 2e spells. It's basically just a big dumb line AoE damage spell, but what makes it special is the fact that the caster can spend an additional turn charging it to really crank the damage up. This is almost never practical to do. Unlike in Dragon Ball Z, the enemies do not stand still while you charge up your beam attack. But in this one case, the enemies mobility was limited, they had a single target to pursue, and they couldn't see what she was doing in the smoke. They had no reason to break from their positioning, and she had nothing left to lose. I play their turns as optimally as I can without using information they don't have. They blast bombs into the smoke, and she nearly goes down. They refresh their buffs. They row the raft forward, weapons at the ready.

The smoke clears. Bloodied and burnt, standing atop the water's surface, the sorceress has a fully charged Inner Radiance Torrent gleaming between her palms, giving the enemy just a split second to realize the mistake they'd made before she unleashes a desperate, last chance kamehameha wave through them.

We all know the DC of the saving throw. I roll the dice openly. Fail. Critical Success. Fail. Fail.

It's the enemy alchemist, the mastermind of the group, who succeeds. I describe him throwing himself aside as the beam rips through the rest of his team, dropping all of them, ripping through the bridge behind and sending a storm of debris raining across the arena. By delightful coincidence, drawing the line across the map, the beam keeps going and hits the box where the BBEG is watching the tournament from. I roll a save for her as well. She critically succeeds. I describe her calmly raising her hand and stopping the beam, the massive wave of energy dispersing harmlessly around her. This is not going to help with how much they want to fuck her.

The alchemist gets back up and fights to win, but at this point, high on their comeback, the PCs are unstoppable, and this weak fucker can't row very well so they rip him apart from range and secure the win.

It was an absolutely incredible fight, an amazing session, a memory that I'm sure will last ages, and it could never have happened if we hadn't all been sure that the player characters had lost, that the fight was over, if we hadn't known that I, as GM, was playing as hard as I could to beat them. It's the kind of win you can only get when you came so close to losing, and the idea that I would give that up for something that I planned? Unthinkable.

it really is gleeblor to try and explain to a lot of people that no the GM did not covertly orchestrate every single element of my PC's victory, and when you try to say that, they get all like "oh you sweet summer child" at you like you still believe in Santa Claus

It completely robs you and your PC of absolutely any accomplishments.

I promise you this isn't Critical Role, plot armor does not have to be the default, and the alternative is not just adversarial GMing

[backpackingspace]

Okay but consider post Canon over protective Athena who is sick to death of her most devout being raped.

Athena sticking close to the whole family and promising penelope that she'll keep a close eye on odysseus the first time he has to go into the market and penelope can't go with him. (She was going to go anyway. She's never actually going to let any of them out of her sight ever again. And it's an easy promise to her dearest weaver who seems so distressed to have odysseus leaving her side.)

Athena fully manifesting in the market when someone grabs odysseus with godly flashes of snakes and owls and the drums of war to scream /release him/ (odysseus is feeling indulgent for both his patron and his wife it's so cute that they're this worried it's not like he couldn't defend himself just fine. Especially from whatever poor fuck just grabbed him who definitely doesn't deserve a goddess screaming in his face. Hes trying so hard not to laugh if he did athena would send him flying.)

Athena telling all the other gods that yes she knows odysseus is the favorite barbie doll she choose him well after all and to back the fuck off if any of them bother him again they will have made an enemy of her.

Athena disguising odysseus only as an old beggar from here on out instead of an irresistibly tall and handsome man. Because she saw how uncomfortable nausicaa's attention made him.

[tigerop]

being torn between wanting to be fully against Horangi leaving/taking a break from KorTac to go chill with Shadow Co for a time because N*ck's dumbass likes that plot/ hc vs me wanting to do it anyway and do it better out of SPITE.

[flowersforbucky]

where the lines overlap

logan howlett x reader (dofp!logan x mutant!reader)

word count: 8.7k

summary: no one gets under your skin quite as much as logan howlett - and he knows it, too. sex pollen trope.

warnings/tags: 18+ only mdni, smut, sex pollen so dub con, frenemies to lovers? they aren't enemies but logan and reader don't really get along, reader is a mutant with pyrokinesis, reader is afab, reader is described as being smaller than logan, no use of y/n, wet dream, fuck or die situation, oral, pet names (bub, princess), brief pain kink for logan, unprotected p in v, cream pie

author's note: takes place after the events of days of future past - so everyone's alive, charles is old af, and logan has a pretty streak of silver in his hair. not proofread super well so please ignore any errors.

There's certain things that you like to think about when you're pissed off. It’s a coping mechanism that you learned in therapy at the ripe age of eleven.

Go to your happy place or whatever.

For you, that's the mansion's courtyard after a fresh snowfall, and having the library all to yourself on a rainy day, and the comfort of your bedroom on one of the rare days that you aren’t teaching, or training, or on a mission.

At this point in your life, you’ve forgotten just about everything you were taught in that therapist's office. It's not like you had wanted to be there, but your parents had been worried and scared – and rightfully so. With the unexpected emergence of your pyrokinetic abilities came multiple accidental house fires born out of preteen angst.

So they did the only thing they knew to do at the time – stick you in therapy in hopes you would acquire some anger management techniques.

These days, you have a pretty good handle on your powers. With a lot of time and effort, you learned to control them – and not just control them, but yield them in a beneficial and productive way.

All of that progress comes dangerously close to going out the window anytime you're in close proximity to Logan Howlett.

Maybe all is an exaggeration – but no one else makes your fingertips burn hot with fire that threatens to break through the barrier of your skin quite like him. From his bossiness to his arrogance and attitude, you’ve clashed heads since the first day you met him.

Today is no different.

“Don’t use so much force.”

You curse as the tip of the blade impales the target a whopping three inches from the center. By far your worst throw yet, though this one isn’t entirely your fault.

You snap your head towards the unexpected but familiar voice, pulling your last dagger from the holster secured around your thigh before chucking it in his general direction. It flies past him, bouncing off the wall behind him.

You knew that it wouldn’t actually hit him. And if by some miracle it had, he’d heal in two seconds and then go right back to being a pain in your ass.

A good looking pain in your ass, admittedly. But a pain in your ass nonetheless.

He looks at you with an amused expression. “See? Too much force.”

“I didn’t know that having giant forks for hands made you an expert on throwing knives.”

He exhales a breathy laugh, staring at you for several seconds before turning to pick the dagger up from the ground. He then proceeds to collect the rest of the knives that you had previously thrown from the body of the practice target.

In heavy silence, he struts over to you with the daggers in hand. He turns to face a wooden target board, finding the balance point of the knife before sending it flying through the air.

Bullseye.

“A long time ago, when I first joined this team, Charles made me practice a non-power related method of self-defense, too.” He pauses, lining the second dagger up with the practice dummy. To no surprise, it’s another perfect throw.

“Wanna guess what I chose?”

You snatch the remaining knife out of his hand.

“How to annoy someone by sneaking up on them and giving them unsolicited advice while they are minding their own business?”

You position your feet once again, holding the knife up in preparation to take aim. Your eyes dart back and forth between the blade and the target ahead of you. You hesitate, feeling nervous under his gaze.

Logan moves from standing beside you, to standing behind you. Your breath catches in your throat as his large figure looms over you. If he were to took a step forward, his chest would brush against your back.

He uses the tip of his boot to nudge your heel forward half an inch, adjusting your stance. He takes your right hand in his, and you have to consciously remind yourself to breathe.

A wave of annoyance washes over you that he’s able to fluster you so easily. It makes you as pissed at yourself as it does him. He’s barely touching you – his hand dwarfing yours is the only point of physical contact, but you’d think that he were pinning you up against a wall with his body.

You tell yourself the sudden light-headedness and increased heartrate is because of the newfound closeness, and nothing more. You’re used to being around Logan – the two of you live together and work together. His general presence is nothing new. But the intimacy of your current predicament is.

And maybe the fact that notes of tobacco and bourbon are infiltrating your senses doesn’t help.

“As unsolicited as my advice may be,” he says lowly as he pulls your hand back slightly, “I give it because if there is ever a situation where someone's trying to hurt you, and you’re unable to light them on fire for some reason, I would really hope that you could at least impale them.”

He tightens his hold on your hand, and then snaps both of your wrists forward. Surprisingly, your brain registers to release your grip just in time. When the tip of the blade impales the center of the target perfectly, he drops your hand.

But he doesn’t move from behind you.

“Much better. Now come back upstairs. Charles needs to see all of us in his office.”

••••••

You and Logan are the last people to enter Charles’ office.

Storm, Scott, Jean, Marie, and Bobby have all found places to sit throughout the small room. Logan chooses to lean against the door that clicks shut behind him, while you exhale in relief at the sight of an empty chair on the opposite side of the room, next to Marie.

“Ah, how nice of you two to join us,” Charles greets. “I was starting to think that Logan got lost on his way to retrieve you.”

You force out a laugh, earning a side-eye from Marie as Charles launches back into whatever he had been in the middle of before you two interrupted.

“Everything okay?” Marie murmurs to you. “You looked a little sick when you walked in.”

“Oh, yeah,” you shrug her off without looking at her. You keep your eyes on Charles. “Yeah, I'm just tired. Been training all morning.”

What were you supposed to tell her? That you were thankful to be wearing a tactical suit so that Logan couldn’t see all of the goosebumps that bloomed across your skin when he was practically breathing down your neck less than five minutes ago? Or that the walk back up to Charles’ office was filled with a loaded silence in place of your usual bickering and banter?

Marie might be one of your closest friends, and you trust her, but Logan is something of a fatherly figure to her. There’s no way you’re letting her hear those words come from your mouth.

You try your hardest to focus on all of the information that Charles throws at you. You’re all to leave on a mission early tomorrow morning. When he explains where you’re going and why, chills run down your spine.

Alberta, Canada – more specifically, Alkali Lake. All of your friends seem to tense up at the mere mention of the place.

You dig your teeth into your lower lip, fighting the urge to sneak a glance to try to gauge Logan's reaction. You’ve never been to Alkali Lake before, and you’re far from excited about going – you can only imagine how he feels, given his history with the abandoned military base.

After no word of any activity surrounding the base for years, Charles had been made aware that the recent disappearance of a group of young adult humans had been traced back to Alkali Lake – to a modern day subsidiary of the group Weapon X.

The same group responsible for Logan’s skeleton being made from adamantium.

This, of course, is where all of you come in.

After a detailed rundown of the goals for tomorrow – the main one being safe extraction of the humans – Charles dismisses all of you to rest for the remainder of the day.

When everyone stands up, you finally risk glancing at Logan, but he’s already opening the door to Charles’ office and strutting away.

••••••

Thick stubble scratches your innermost thighs as sharp teeth and soft lips alternate between kissing and biting the sensitive flesh between your legs.

His face is covered in your slick from the three orgasms he’s already pulled from you with his tongue. He lays nestled between your legs, pinning you to the mattress beneath you. Your thighs rest across his shoulders, his hands splayed across your belly.

You're putty in his hands.

“I've gotta say, the sounds you make when you cum are way cuter than the sounds I'm used to hearing from you,” Logan muses against your cunt. His voice sends a vibration over your already overstimulated core.

You can only guess that the sounds he’s referring to are annoyed sighs and you telling him to shut the fuck up, but right now, you don't care enough to ask for any clarification.

“Yeah?” You yelp when his tongue flicks against your swollen clit. “Maybe if you spent less time pissing me off you’d get to—”

You're cut off by him plunging the tip of his index finger inside you. You writhe against him, your walls constricting around the digit.

“Less time pissing you off, more time letting you fuck my fingers and face. Got it.”

The slamming of a door somewhere outside of your room causes you to bolt upright in your bed.

You open your eyes to darkness except for the red glow of the numbers on your digital alarm clock that read 12:26 in the morning. Your heart feels as if it’s going to beat right out of your chest, and your skin is clammy with a thin layer of sweat. You throw your covers away from you in an attempt to cool yourself off.

“What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck—”

You whisper the three words to yourself over and over again until your breathing resumes a normal pattern.

You’re alone, of course. In the comfort of your private room, where you had fallen asleep several hours ago. The difference between now and then is an uncomfortable pool of wetness between your legs, soaking your underwear.

You can’t even recall the last time you had such a vivid sex dream. It felt utterly lifelike – you reach down between your legs, trailing your fingers over the skin of your inner thighs where you had felt his beard tickle and tease you.

How the fuck are you supposed to look him in the eye tomorrow, when you’re having to work together to rescue humans from Alkali Lake? How are you supposed to come up with smart-ass remarks for his endless taunting and teasing when you’re going to be trying your hardest to not replay the images of his hazel eyes looking up at from between your thighs?

“Get a fucking grip,” you whisper hiss to yourself.

It’s Logan. The same Logan who acted like he was too good to say more than ten words to you the first half a year that you were with the team. The same Logan that tries to get you benched for the dumbest, smallest reasons he can think of. The same Logan that condescendingly calls you kid or princess every chance he gets because he knows it gets under your skin.

You need a glass of water. And some fresh air, and a cold shower—

You start by picking up the pair of sweatpants that you’d discarded before falling asleep a few hours ago. You step back into them, deciding to trek to the kitchen for some ice water. Your mouth feels as dry as cotton.

As you approach the end of the hallway that leads from the team member's bedrooms to the kitchen, you hear the soft shuffling of footsteps and see low lighting that spills from the refrigerator.

As soon as you step into the kitchen, you come to a halt. You recognize the large frame standing in front of the open fridge right away.

Of fucking course it would be him. And of fucking course he wouldn’t be wearing a shirt.

You clear your throat to announce your presence, not quite trusting your voice to speak. He looks at you over his shoulder, a bottle of beer pressed to his lips.

You walk over to the cabinet beside him, keeping your eyes off of him entirely as you get a glass.

“What's got you awake at this hour?” He closes the fridge, leaning back against the edge of the countertop. The only light in the room now comes from the small, dim bulb above the sink.

If he only fucking knew, you think. If he only knew that the real reason you are out of bed right now is because you’d just woken up from an extremely graphic, jarring dream of you riding his face.

You fill the cup up with cold water from the kitchen sink and take a large swig before once again turning to face him.

“Could ask you the same thing,” you answer with a vague gesture to his half-dressed form and beer bottle.

He takes in your appearance, too. His eyes trail from your exposed feet, to your baggy sweatpants, and up to your even baggier t-shirt before settling on your face. You feel particularly vulnerable under his gaze right now. You compare how you look to how he looks – with his stupid abs that look like God himself chiseled them from stone and his sweatpants that hang just a little too comfortably.

You sip on your water just to keep from biting your lip.

“Guess we were both thirsty,” he shrugs as he takes another sip of his beer.

“Guess so,” you hum, and because you don’t want to fall into an awkward silence and it’s the only thing you can think to add, you say, “Nervous about the mission?”

His expression darkens and posture tenses at your question. “I am,” he admits. “And if you knew as much as I do about that place, you’d be nervous, too.”

You huff. Your grip tightens around the glass in your hand at the mere insinuation that he knows your feelings. “Who says that I’m not?”

“If you’re going, you’re not nervous enough.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. You take a deep breath, knowing damn well the direction that this conversation is headed. You’d heard it all from him before – anything to keep you as far away from him as possible.

“Of course I’m going, Logan. Whether you think I’m good at it or not, it’s my job.”

“It’s not that I don’t think you’re good at your job. It’s about experience—”

You laugh, cutting him off. You can feel the telltale warmth of fire beginning to form beneath the tips of your fingers, your irritation threatening to bubble over.

“Experience?” you exclaim. “Do I need to remind you that I’ve been with this team for three years now? Just because I’m not two hundred years old like you doesn’t mean that I don’t have experience.”

“I’m very aware of how long you’ve been with this team, bub,” he says calmly, which makes you all the more heated.

“For three years you’ve spewed every bullshit reason you can think of to keep me on the sidelines,” you laugh. “I wish you’d fucking admit that you just don’t like me. It’d be a lot more respectable than acting like you’re worried about—”

Logan’s gaze drops to the glass in your hand, making you come to an abrupt pause. You follow his stare, realizing that you’ve managed to melt the glass where your fingertips grip the glass. Water begins to leak out from the holes, spilling onto your sweatpants and the floor below you.

There’s no visible flames emanating from your fingertips. Your anger hadn’t progressed to full on fire, just intense heat, but still. No one else makes you come as close to losing control as him.

No one. And he seems to know it, too. You can tell by the smug look on his face.

You dump what little liquid is left into the sink before chucking the distorted glass into the garbage.

You start to storm past him, to get away from him and go back to your room without another word, when he grabs you by the wrist. You look at him in bewilderment – this is the second time in the last twenty-four hours that he has held your hand in his.

“Didn’t know you were so hot and bothered over me,” he says with an amused smirk.

You rip your hand away from him, an exaggerated look of disgust on your face. Your recent dream pops into your head and you have to remind yourself that he’s not Jean or Charles – he can’t read your mind.

“You're lucky that you've got those handy healing powers,” you spit as you once again begin exiting the kitchen. “If I thought there was a chance of it actually shutting you up, I’d burn more than just Charles’ vintage glassware.”

You hear him say your name, but you’re already speed walking back to your room and playing your list of happy place thoughts on a loop in your head.

The soup that Storm makes when everyone at the school seems to get sick at the same time. One of your younger students picking you a flower. The smell of fresh laundry, the crisp pages of a new book.

Finally, your bedroom door clicks shut behind you.

You would have been better off just enduring the discomfort of a dry throat, you think. You don't know what's worse – not being able to sleep because you're rattled from a wet dream about him, or not being able to sleep because you've once again allowed him to get under your skin.

You crawl back under your covers, hoping that when you close your eyes, you don't see his face again.

••••••

Logan doesn’t make any more appearances in your dreams for the rest of the night, but that doesn’t stop him from being the first thing you think of when you open your eyes in the morning.

And as much as you hate to admit it to yourself, the only thing on your mind the entire flight from New York to Alberta.

From the tension that filled the air when he corrected your knife throwing technique yesterday morning to the warmth of his calloused hand when he grabbed you by the wrist in the kitchen last night, you're fighting a losing battle with no one but yourself.

As far as you can tell, he’s utterly unaffected. The fact that he chose to sit directly in front of you on the jet instead of any of the other empty seats says as much.

Not even ten minutes into the flight, you're staring at the tufts of his hair and his broad shoulders when you have to remind yourself that there's two telepaths occupying this jet with you. Though you trust both Charles and Jean to not read your mind without cause, the mere possibility of either one of them accidentally tuning into your thoughts and seeing a replay of your most recent dream or hearing you think about what it would be like to tug on those stupid fucking tufts of hair that resemble kitten ears is enough to mortify you.

You find yourself grateful that you brought a book and headphones with you to distract yourself for the duration of the trip.

An eerie feeling creeps into your bones as soon as you step onto the hanger of the jet. You can’t deny that the scenery surrounding the military base is beautiful – from the snowcapped mountains to the frost covered lake, it’s picturesque. But then your gaze settles on the large dam, and you remember what lies beneath.

“Can't say that I've missed this place,” Logan grunts, drawing your attention to him. His face is impassive other than his mouth being set in a hard, straight line as he stares out towards the water.

It's rare for Logan to elicit feelings outside of burning irritation (and maybe, possibly, sometimes arousal) from you – but right now, there’s a part of you that wishes the dynamic between the two of you were different.

As much as he infuriates you, you still care about him. You wish you could say that you didn’t, but the fact that you feel the urge to reach out and give his hand a reassuring squeeze makes that pretty hard to deny.

That urge dissipates as quickly as it comes over you. The bitter chill of the mountain wind and your teammates voices pull you back to reality. You awkwardly fiddle with one of the daggers strapped to your thigh instead.

“Jean and Scott, the two of you take the west side of the building,” Charles instructs when the group nears the discreet entrance. “Bobby and Rogue, clear the east wing. Storm and I will be keeping watch outside to make sure that no one tries to escape with the humans.”

“What about us?” you ask with a slight nod towards Logan. The fact that neither of you had been given instructions yet leaves it to be assumed that you’ll be paired up together.

You and Logan working as a pair was nothing out of the ordinary, and although that typically comes with a lot of annoyance, right now you can’t help but feel a little relieved by it.

Even if you are still irritated at him for his behavior and choice of words in the kitchen last night and even if you do think of him between your thighs every time you look at him for more than five seconds, he’s still more familiar with this place than anyone else here.

And no matter how much he makes you want to tear your hair out, there's never a time that you feel unsafe when he's near.

“You and Logan are to inspect the basement,” Charles answers. “I trust that you can refrain from melting any antique personal property until we are back at the mansion, my dear,” he adds with a knowing smirk.

“I was planning on paying you back for that,” you mumble.

“No,” Charles sighs. “You weren't. It was very expensive.”

Logan snorts, earning curious glances from everyone other than you and Charles. He does get a nasty side-eye from you – a silent promise to deliver on last night’s threat to find something to burn other than vintage glassware.

Your teammates split up into their respective groups upon entering the base, leaving you to follow Logan's lead towards the lower levels.

It’s unsettling just how silent it is. The only sounds are that of yours and Logan's boots against the ground. You'd be able to hear a pin drop from across the building.

And it's cold. The kind of cold that makes your bones ache. You instinctively flex your fingers, focusing on the warmth that radiates from the tips.

As the two of you make your way through the dark, seemingly endless basement, checking each room for signs of life, you can't help but think of Logan being here under much different circumstances.

You don't know the full extent of his time here – even he only remembers bits and pieces. But you know enough to know that this can’t be easy for him.

The fact that he's being uncharacteristically quiet only reaffirms that. He makes none of his typical taunts and jabs, only speaking when absolutely necessary.

You find yourself damn near wishing he’d make some snide comment about how you’re walking too loudly and how being partnered up with you feels like babysitting duty – if he did, maybe then you wouldn’t feel this annoying, persistent worry over his mental well-being.

“Logan,” you begin quietly as the two of you approach a large set of hospital style double doors at the end of a corridor. “I know being here can't be easy for you. I'm sorry that you have to be.”

He huffs a laugh under his breath, not meeting your eyes as he slowly pushes one of the doors open, peaking into the room before stepping inside and holding the door open for you.

“Just part of the job, bub,” he sighs. “I know what I signed up for.”

You enter, walking past him into the dark room. You shine your flashlight around the cramped space. Right away, you can tell that it’s vacant, as all of the other rooms you’ve checked have been. But it’s different – whereas most of the rooms have been completely empty, this one contains multiple twin sized beds. No frames, no pillows, just plain white sheets on each one.

“I know you do. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t hard.”

The door clicks shut behind him, and he shines his own flashlight around the room from right behind you.

“It’s okay, princess,” he snorts. “I’m a big boy. You don’t gotta pretend to be worried about me.”

Princess. Your fingertips tingle as soon as the pet name leaves his lips.

“I’m not pretend—”

The sudden, loud clicking of a deadbolt echoes through the room, silencing you. You and Logan stare at each other for a brief moment, startled and confused, before he turns around and pushes on the double doors to no avail.

He slams the full weight of his body against the metal, but it doesn't budge.

“What the fuck,” he growls in between repeated strikes against the doors.

“Logan and I are locked in a room in the basement,” you say as you click on the communication device in your left ear. “The door automatically locked after we came inside. We can’t get it open—”

You’re met with white noise.

“My fucking comm isn’t working.” Panic begins to set in as you yank the device out of your ear to inspect it. There’s a small green light indicating that it is on, but for whatever reason, it isn’t getting signal.

“Scott? Storm? Can anyone hear us?” Logan says as he messes with his own communication device. “Nothing,” he grunts after a moment of silence.

“Professor? Jean? If either of you are listening, now would be a great time to poke around in our brains and let us know.”

Nothing indeed.

“Okay,” Logan says as he backs away from the double doors. “Blast them.”

“Blast them?” You repeat, dumbfounded. “They’re industrial metal doors. They’re like two feet thick. These walls are made out of concrete.” You bang your first against the rock solid wall for emphasis. “What the fuck do you think fire is—”

“I don’t hear you suggesting anything!”

“How about not setting the room we are trapped in on fire? Only one of us has regenerative—”

A loud hissing noise sounds from above, causing you and Logan to both point your flashlights up towards the ceiling. You squint, trying to make sense of what you’re seeing. Large vents make up well over fifty percent of the ceiling, releasing what appears to be a fog like substance. It quickly transforms the air above you into one large, milky looking cloud.

“Charles! Storm! Scott – we need help. Quickly, we need help. I don’t know what’s going—”

You continue to shout into the communication device while Logan alternates between punching the door with his fists and throwing the full weight of his body against the metal, but all of your efforts are futile. The doors don’t budge, and you hear nothing but static from the comm.

You frantically glance around the room, looking for another escape route. There’s no other doors, and no windows. You’re completely enclosed by the four concrete walls and the impenetrable metal doors.

“Hold your breath!” Logan shouts as the fog descends upon the two of you, but it’s too late. The sickeningly sweet smelling mist encompasses you, making it impossible to see anything other than the thick silver vapor. It infiltrates your nostrils, causing you to gag. You cough, desperately trying to clear your airway of the substance.

It burns – your throat, your nostrils, your eyes and skin. Anywhere that it comes in contact with you feels like pins and needles.

You’re vaguely aware that Logan is somewhere to your left, asking if you’re okay in-between coughs and gags of his own. You can’t catch your breath well enough to answer him.

His hand clasps around the top of your arm. Your vision goes fuzzy and you collapse into him, light-headed from the profuse coughing.

“I think it’s dissipating,” Logan whispers in a strained voice, still supporting you so that you don’t fall to the floor. You risk cracking your eyes open the slightest bit, and realize that he’s right. There’s still a veil of mist surrounding you, but it’s no longer so opaque that you can’t see even two inches in front of your face.

You take deep breaths, making no effort to step away from him as you attempt to regain control of your breathing. Your lungs feel like they are on fire and your throat feels like you haven’t had any water in days.

“What the fuck was that?” Your voice comes out as a croak.

“Can you stand?” he asks you. You nod, reluctantly pulling away from his embrace.

As soon as he steps away from you to see if the doors are still locked, the momentary relief that you felt when the fog began to dissipate is replaced with renewed terror. The room, which was previously dark except for the light from your flashlights, suddenly glows a deep red color from the ceiling that now emits crimson fluorescence.

You open your mouth to call out for Charles or Jean again, when a throbbing sensation radiates throughout your gut. You clutch your hands over your abdomen, gasping at the sudden and awkward feeling.

Logan turns his attention away from the doors and back to you as soon as he notices how you’re hunched over. You stumble over to the bed that's closest to you, the world blurring around you in shades of red.

“Something is wrong,” you gasp out. You know you're stating the obvious – something has been wrong since the moment that the doors locked behind you.

He's next to you in two long strides, kneeling beside the bed and looking up at you in concern. The ache in your lower belly seems to worsen with his close proximity. Your skin feels feverish, making you want to peel your tactical suit off of your body.

“Tell me what you're feeling,” he demands. Other than obvious confusion and fear, he appears physically fine. You piece together that whatever that shit was, it’s effecting you much differently than it is him – undoubtedly due to his healing abilities.

You can't form a coherent sentence – all you can focus on is the way that the discomfort in your abdomen travels down to your groin, making you clench your thighs together. You have the inexplicable desire to reach out and pull him to you, as if having him as close as possible to you is the only solution for every uncomfortable thing happening to you.

“You gotta talk to me, bub. Tell me what’s going on,” he says when you don’t answer him. He puts a hand just above your knee and you have to hold back the whimper that threatens to break through your lips. He notices your pained expression and quickly withdraws his hand from your thigh.

“No!” you gasp, grabbing his hand in yours out of desperation to maintain some level of physical contact with him. “I – I don't know how to explain what’s happening. Just – I just need you to keep touching me. Please. Whatever that fog was, it’s making me feel like…”

You trail off, realizing that you must sound every bit as insane as you feel. You don’t know how to begin articulating what’s happening to you, because it makes no sense. When the silver mist first started to rain down from the ceiling, the last thing on your mind was Logan pinning you to one of these mattresses and railing you until you until you see stars. Now, you think that if he so much as stops holding your hand, you'll fucking die.

A look of clarity washes over Logan’s face – with a hint of something else that you can't quite pinpoint, too.

“I think I know what this is,” he murmurs. His stare is locked on one of the daggers strapped to your thigh. He squeezes your hand in his, though you don’t know if it’s to comfort you or himself.

“I’ve heard of this before. Didn’t know it actually exists. I came across it once when preparing a lesson on Alkali Lake—”

“What is it?” you implore.

His eyes finally flicker back up to yours. Images of last night’s dream flash through your mind again. Instead of his hand holding yours, you visualize his slender fingers pumping inside you. You stare at his lips, imaging the feeling of them sucking love bites into the meat of your inner thighs –

“It’s a chemical created for breeding experiments,” he answers after a pregnant pause. “They – Weapon X – wanted super mutants. Some of the subjects were… less than compliant. This made it so that they weren’t able to fight it.”

You let his words sink in. It’s not something you’ve ever heard of, but you don’t doubt that what he’s saying is true. How could you, with the way that your pussy is throbbing at the mere sound of his voice? Under normal circumstances, you might not read too far into that. But right now? On a mission, locked in a creepy basement, unable to get in contact with your teammates?

“Weren’t able to fight it,” you repeat slowly. “You're saying there’s only one way out of this.”

He doesn’t answer – just looks at you with sympathy. With pity.

“No,” you shake your head. You yank your hand from his grasp and move back across the mattress as the gravity of the situation hits you. To distance yourself from him feels like ripping air out of your own lungs, but the alternative is borderline unthinkable.

“I can’t – won’t ask that of you,” you declare. There’s a voice in the back of your mind that laughs at you, as if saying it’s cute that you think you have a choice. The pain and longing grow with each passing second, threatening to consume you from the inside out.

“You’re fine. It would be different if it was both of us. But you shouldn’t have to do this just because you're stuck here with me.”

“Have to? You make it sound like it would be a punishment for me,” he chuckles darkly. He finally rises from where he had been kneeling next to the bed. He stands beside the mattress, looming over you in the maroon lighting.

“Let’s not overcomplicate this, princess,” he murmurs. He grasps your face in his palm and tilts your head to look up at him. His touch is a balm – it feels like running a burn under a cold stream of water.

“I'm gonna take care of you, and then you can go right back to tolerating my existence.” He runs the calloused pad of his thumb over the swell of your bottom lip. Your eyes flutter shut, reveling in the sensation of the singular digit against your flesh.

“Besides, it’s not like you haven’t dreamed about this. Or were you moaning about someone else who just happens to have the same name as me last night?”

Your eyes shoot open at the revelation that not only had you said his name in your sleep, but he’d fucking heard you. And has the nerve to tease you about it at a time like this.

He's smirking down at you. His smugness irritates you often, but right now it’s enough to cause the tips of your fingers to burn hot. You jerk his hand away from your face, causing him to hiss when your fingers wrap around his wrist.

He chortles, his eyes rolling back in his head at the sensation. The reaction fills you with annoyance – of course he would have a fucking pain kink.

As much as it pisses you off, it also spurs you on. Blame the influence of the chemicals that you’re currently under, but the fact that he can so easily tolerate and even enjoy something that would have anyone else running in the opposite direction does something to you.

You’re past the point of finding it in you to care about consequences. You’re no longer thinking about how you’ll be able to look him in the eye when this is over, or how you’ll pretend like everything is perfectly normal when the two of you are back on the jet with your teammates.

Maybe you can fight this drug, or maybe he’s right and there’s no point in trying. Either way, you’ve decided that you're going to have him before you leave this room.

You drop his hand, bringing yours to the zipper at the neckline of your tactical suit. You slowly tug it downwards, gauging his expression as he watches you expose your chest and stomach.

For once, he’s all out of smart remarks.

A part of you feels a sense of satisfaction and wants to continue taking your time with undressing yourself, just to keep him looking at you like this – but every fiber of your being is screaming at you for more.

You waste no more time with shoving the restrictive Kevlar material down your arms, leaving you in only your bra from the waist up. Logan unfreezes at the sight, crawling onto the bed on his knees. You maneuver yourself so that you’re laying flat against the mattress, pulling him down with you.

He rips the fabric of your bra away from your breast, immediately attaching his mouth to your nipple. He rolls it between his tongue and teeth, causing you to arch your back into his touch. Your legs instinctively wrap around his hips, pinning yourself to the mattress with his body. You mewl at the feeling of your pebbled nipple in his warm mouth.

His other hand attempts to free the opposite breast, but the fabric is too tight and restrictive. He let’s out an annoyed growl, pulling back to unsheathe his claws and snip the material in between your tits, letting them spill free.

“Hey! I loved that bra—”

Your complaint dies in your throat when he slates his lips over yours.

There’s nothing slow or sensual about the way that he kisses you. He slips his tongue past your lips, moving his lips with fervency and urgency – like he needs this as badly as you do.

You buck your hips up into him, desperate for any amount of friction. He grinds down against you, his erection evident even through the thick material of both of your tactical suits.

He pulls back, breaking the kiss to unzip your suit the rest of the way down. He peels it down your thighs, only stopping to discard your boots. When you’re left in only your underwear, he looks at you with a satisfied smirk.

“So, what exactly was I doing in your dream to have you saying my name like that, huh?” he asks as he toys with the waistband of your panties.

You roll your eyes, your patience growing thinner as the ache in your belly grows stronger. He can tease you about that all he wants when you’re back in the safety of the mansion, when you’re no longer under the influence of potentially life threatening chemicals and capable of thinking of a proper comeback.

“Shut up and eat me out.”

His smirk only grows, but he doesn’t tease you any further. He tugs your panties down your legs, tossing them to the floor. He lowers himself onto his stomach, still fully dressed. Under less dire circumstances, you would’ve been eager to get him out of his clothes, too – but right now, your highest priority is feeling his mouth on you.

No wet dream could have prepared you for how euphoric it actually feels for his teeth to nip at the tender flesh of your inner thighs, or the way that his tongue draws lazy circles at your hole before his lips lock around your clit.

You writhe against him, chasing the release that you’ve been desperate for since the second the vapor first came in contact with your skin. He’s more than generous, expertly nursing at your swollen bud as he eases a slender finger inside your cunt.

One finger – that’s all it takes to feel your climax building, the coil in your lower belly tightening. You feel your walls pulse around the digit as your orgasm washes over you. You don’t even try to hold back your cries and praises of pleasure, letting him know how good he’s making you feel.

When he sits back, his lips and beard glisten with your slick in the red glow that encases you both. You push yourself into a sitting position and reach for the zipper of his suit, antsy to shed his clothing now that your physical discomfort had been quelled – at least for the time being.

He helps you, shrugging out of his vest and tugging his undershirt over his head. Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him. You’ve seen him shirtless before, but never shirtless for you. You want to dig your nails into the planes of his chest, and run your tongue along the protruding vein that disappears beyond the waistline of his pants –

You undo his belt buckle and pop open the button of his pants before hastily yanking both his pants and boxers down in one movement. His cock springs free, bobbing inches before your face. You start to adjust your position on the bed – to get on your knees and take him in your mouth – when a low chuckle causes you to pause and look up at him.

“Nuh-uh,” he tuts, earning a confused pout from you.

“You don’t want me to suck your dick?” You ask with raised brows.

“S’not about me right now, bub. I said I was gonna take care of you, and that’s what I’m gonna do. Now lay back down for me.”

You aren’t going to argue with that.

You return to your original position on the mattress, pulling him down with you. He hovers above you, using one arm to support himself on the bed. He takes his cock in his free hand, stroking his length a few times before nudging his head through your folds until he’s lubricated in your juices.

“Don’t you worry, though,” he murmurs against your lips. He teases his tip at your hole. “If you still wanna suck my dick when we get out of here, I'll let you.”

“Oh, you’re so thoughtfu—”

He sheaths himself inside you, turning the end of your retort into a gasp. He fills you entirely, stilling to allow both of you time to adjust to the sensation. The stretch is damn near blinding, making your eyes roll back into your skull. You glance down between your bodies, halfway expecting to see him jutting out of your stomach.

He fucks you similarly to how he kisses you – like this is saving him as much as it is you. It's rough, and fast, and messy – and you dread the moment that it’s over.

No one has ever filled you as completely and perfectly as him. You don’t think anyone else ever will, again.

Each drag of his cock along your walls has you clenching around him, each time his head rams against your cervix you can’t help but cry his name.

He snakes his hand in between you, reaching down to where his body collides with yours. His thumb massages over your sensitive clit.

You rake your nails down his back and he hisses in approval, snapping his hips into you at a brutal pace.

“Fuckin’ ruinin’ me for anyone else, princess,” he grunts before kissing you again.

You don't have time to overthink the sentiment before your second orgasm is washing over you. Logan cums as soon as he feels your pussy pulsating around him, fucking you until he's spilled every last drop of his warm seed deep inside you. When you're both finished, he stills inside you and rests his sweat-slicked forehead against yours as he catches his breath.

“You think it worked?” he grunts.

As if on cue, you hear the deadbolt unlock from the other side of the room. A second later, Storm’s voice sounds from your communication device that had fallen to the floor at some point.

“I don't feel like there’s a ticking time bomb inside my vagina anymore. So, I’d say yeah, it worked.”

He huffs a laugh, and then pulls out of you with a sigh.

“Logan,” you say, stopping him before he can pull away from you entirely. He stares down at you, waiting for you to continue.

You aren’t even sure what to say. Truthfully, you just weren’t ready for the moment to end and for things to go back to normal between the two of you.

“Thank you,” you spit out after a moment of loaded silence. “For… helping me,” you finish lamely.

“Don’t thank me, bub,” he chuckles. “It’s far from the worst thing that's happened to me in this place.”

••••••

You sleep the entire flight back to New York.

And as soon as you've showered and your head hits the pillow after returning home to the mansion, you sleep for another ten hours. Every time you wake up and think that you're finally well-rested, your body says otherwise and you're asleep again within minutes.

You wish you could say it’s a dreamless sleep, but that would be a lie. You see Logan’s face every time you close your eyes.

But it's different than the last dream you had of him. It isn’t images of his head between your thighs or his fingers slipping in and out of you.

It’s just.. him. His presence. The lingering feeling of his lips on yours, the light flavor of tobacco and menthol.

And the echo of the words he spoke as he teased you with the head of his cock and made you cum around his length.

“Don’t you worry, though. If you still wanna suck my dick when we get out of here, I’ll let you.”

“Fuckin’ ruinin’ me for anyone else, princess.”

When you wake, the ache between your thighs for him remains, despite the fact that the effects of the drugs had long since faded.

You know you shouldn’t read too far into words spoken while the two of you were locked in that room. But you can’t help but keep thinking that he wasn’t under the influence of chemical subjugation. Which leaves you questioning if he meant the things he said, or if he was just trying to lighten a scary, impossible situation for both of you.

You suppose there’s only one way to find out.

When you finally gather the courage the knock on his door, the sun has set and everyone has retired to their bedrooms for the evening.

You almost dash back into your own room during the few seconds that it takes him to open his door. He wears sweatpants, a plain black t-shirt, and a surprised expression.

“Hey, bub,” he greets you apprehensively. You don't normally make a habit of stopping by his room for late night chats. “Was starting to worry that you’d fallen into a coma.”

He opens his door wider, motioning with his head for you to come inside.

“Felt like it,” you give a small laugh. “Whatever was in that shit wore me out.” You take a seat on the edge of his bed, nervously wringing your hands together.

“You feeling better now?” he asks as he leans against his dresser, crossing his arms over his chest. Your eyes trail over the large muscles of his chest and shoulders. The memory of his body caging you to the twin sized mattress in the basement of the bunker flashes through your mind.

You nod, hoping that it’s convincing.

“All things considered,” you shrug. “I just wanted to check in with you. Has Charles… said anything?”

What you're actually trying to ask is if Charles interrogated him about where the two of you were during the mission, why no one was able to contact either of you, and why you have been so exhausted that you've done nothing but sleep for the last day, but you trust that he knows what you mean.

“He hasn’t said anything, but..” he trails off, eyes darting around the room to avoid your gaze. “It’s Charles. Safe to assume he knows and is just being decent by not saying anything.”

“Right,” you murmur.

If he doesn’t already know, it's only a matter of time before you slip up and imagine the feeling of his lips on yours or the sounds of his moans in the middle of a mission debriefing.

“And the humans..? They’re all okay?”

“They are,” he assures you with a soft smile. “They’re all receiving medical attention, and most have been reunited with their loved ones.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. “No thanks to us, I guess.”

“No,” he laughs. “I suppose not.”

He pushes himself off the dresser, walking the few feet to where you perch at the edge of the mattress. He sits down beside you, his thigh brushing against yours. He smells of Old Spice deodorant and spearmint toothpaste, and it makes you the room spin around you.

“But everyone’s okay. They’re safe. And you’re safe. That’s what matters.”

You nod, not trusting your voice to speak. He’s close enough that you can practically feel the heat from his body. You risk looking at his face, your gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips.

“Yeah,” you finally agree. “You’re right. Well, I’ll let you get some rest. I just wanted to check in with—”

You start to stand up, when he cups your jaw in his hand and pulls your face to his. He’s hesitant in a way that he wasn’t yesterday – he gives you the opportunity to pull away before he sweeps his tongue across your bottom lip, as if asking for permission.

When you don’t give any kind of indication that you want him to stop, he pulls you flush against him and slips his tongue past your lips. You bring your hand to the back of his neck, twining your fingers through his hair.

He takes his time with you. Whereas yesterday’s kisses were filled with urgency and desperation, todays is tender and sensual. Now, you’re allowed the luxury of taking your time.

He lays down against the mattress, pulling you with him. You straddle his stomach, your lips never once breaking contact. His hands grip the globes of your ass, his fingers digging into the meat through your pajama pants.

You grind against the hard planes of his abdomen, earning a throaty growl from him.

He breaks away, nipping at your bottom lip with his teeth.

“I said something I didn’t entirely mean yesterday,” he whispers, out of breath.

“What?” you ask, sitting upright and looking down at him. “You aren’t going to let me suck your dick?”

“No,” he chuckles. “God, no. I meant that. If you still want to, that is—”

“What is it, then?” you interrupt with a playful nudge to his chest.

“I said you could go back to tolerating my existence. But I hope you wanna do a little bit more than just tolerate me.”

You laugh under your breath, leaning down to press your lips to his once more.

“I could see myself doing a little bit more than just tolerating you.”

oooops i accidentally wrote another fic where logan overhears something that he wasn't supposed to 😅🫠 did not originally plan for that to happen hahaha

check out some of my other logan fics -

by the end of the night

dog tags drabble

[moeitsu]

Explaining the James Logan Howlett (Wolverine) Lore for the new fans :)

I made this as a little cheat sheet for all the new Logan/Wolverine fans, in case you’ve never seen the movies or read the comics. Hopefully it’ll help with your fanfics and understanding his character better <3

Logan is my favorite of the Marvel superhero’s, and he and I go way back….so far back that my Dad dressed up as Wolverine and I as Rogue for Halloween in 2006. So he holds a very special place in my heart.

Lore - Part 2  Wolverine Comics

If you’ve seen X-men Origins: Wolverine, I hate to break it to you, but that backstory is not canon to the X-men universe. The later movies really screwed up the timeline. So the information here is strictly from the comics.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Pre-Adamantium Binding:

His real name is James Howlett, ‘Logan’ is later used as an alias to distance himself from his past.

He was born sometime around 1880, in Alberta Canada.

He is the illegitimate son of Elizabeth Howlett and Thomas Logan. He grew up on the Howlett estate and believed John Howlett was his real father.

His mutant powers first appeared when he was a child. He has accelerated healing, heightened senses, and retractable bone claws.

The trigger was caused by Thomas Logan killing James Howlett. The overwhelming fear and anger made his power manifest, blinded with rage he kills Thomas.

As his biological father dies, he reveals to Logan that he is his true father. The event is deeply traumatizing, and Logan runs away from his family estate. His mother commits suicide shortly after.

Logan has a half brother known as Sabertooth (Victor Creed) who has similar powers to the Wolverine but is more ‘animalistic’

The details vary across the comics but the brothers are always seen as rivals. And often pitted against eachother.

Logan served in WWI, WWII, the Korean War, and the Vietnam War.

He also served in a Canadian military force known as ‘Department H’ that specialized in superhuman affairs. (This was after the experiment, I’ll go into more detail later)

Sometime before the Weapon X program: On Earth-616, Logan had a wife (Itsu) and son in Japan where he was training at the time. They were killed by the Winter Soldier (Bucky Barnes)

Weapon X Program - Adamantium Binding:

The Weapon X program was run by multiple people working in secret for the Canadian government. Originally beginning in 1845, their goal was to experiment on mutants and create their own super-soldiers.

Logan was deceived and manipulated into undergoing the Weapon X experiment. He did not consent to being a test subject.

For some reason the X-Men Origins movie makes it out to be that Logan willingly chose to undergo this process, only to later reveal that he was tricked into doing so.

Before being captured, he was still struggling with his identity, he was close to 100 years old at the time. His life was filled with violence and loss. Making him physically and mentally vulnerable.

He was a prime target for exploitation.

Part of the experiment was to completely erase his memories and replace them with false ones. This allowed them complete control over him.

This also made it difficult for him to recall how he ended up in the program to begin with.

I repeat: they completely wiped his memory. His whole identity was gone.

100 years of memories were gone.

The bonding process turned his entire skeleton and bone claws into indestructible metal.

Due to his regenerative nature, Logan was not given anesthetic or put under for the procedure. It was excruciatingly painful.

Logan worked as a mercenary for private military contractors. He took on these assignments without fully understanding their implications because of his fragmented memory.

Sometime later he became a member of X-Force, a private military unit (affiliated with the CIA) that dealt with incredibly violent operations.

The purpose of the project was to create an unstoppable killing machine. With their end goal being to erase his humanity all together. However Logan’s mental fortitude allowed him to resist the conditioning and make his escape before it was too late.

After escaping, Logan developed a mistrust with authority. And just people in general. He felt deeply betrayed by the Weapon X program. And he struggles with the fear of being used as a weapon.

The escape and aftermath of Weapon X:

After everything Logan went through, the intense trauma and confusion significantly impacted his actions and mindset.

He was left with extreme psychological damage, and behaved more as an animal than a man for the first few years of his freedom. Living in the wilderness of Canada.

Quite literally a feral man. He lost touch of his humanity. Embracing his animalistic abilities, turning him into an apex predator.

Logan has the ability to enter something called “Beserker Rage” which he becomes entirely driven by animalistic instinct. Turning him into an unstoppable force and exerting himself for very long periods of time.

Think of when you see him running on all fours…

Over time, Logan began to regain bits and pieces of his humanity. He was later discovered by Heather and James MacDonald Hudson who took him in and helped him recover physically and mentally.

(Logan actually fell in love with Heather, and James became his best friend. They were the closest thing he had to a family)

After he recovered, he was recruited by the Canadian governments ‘Department H’. They were responsible for a lot of his training and became a key member in Canada’s superhero team: Alpha Flight.

This is where he took on the code name “Wolverine”

His time with Alpha Flight was short lived. And soon he was approached by Charles Xavier, who was looking for mutants to join his X-Men. He recognized Logan’s potential and offered him a place on the team as well as the promise to help him regain his memory.

Logan accepted, and his time with the X-Men marked a critical and significant moment in his life. Under Xavier’s guidance he was able to rebuild his identity and gradually piece together his past. All while fighting for the rights of mutants.

Being part of the X-Men gave him a sense of purpose and direction. Although his main goal had always been to uncover what he had lost, which was himself. He still struggles with trust and relationships, but eventually forms strong bonds with the other X-men.

His past with Weapon X still haunts him. And he has vivid and terrible nightmares about what he had done and what was done to him.

I won’t go into detail about his time with the X-men because that varies a lot across the comics. Just know that he had a love-hate relationship with them, but he ultimately loved them in the end.

Some sad facts about Logan that actually haunt me:

Logan has outlived everyone he ever loved. Family, friends, even his own children. He is so so so lonely.

Immense amount of survivors guilt. He feels unworthy of the life he continues to live.

He suffers from chronic nightmares. Often waking up in a violent and panicked state.

Deep-seated fear of abandonment that goes all the way back to his early childhood. He isolates himself to protect himself from more pain.

Tons of self-loathing. He believes himself to be nothing more than a killer. He thinks he is unworthy of love and happiness.

In the “Old Man Logan” storyline, he is tricked into killing the entire X-Men team. This event haunts him for the rest of his life.

Logan had a long, unrequited love for Jean Gray. He has watched her die multiple times, and each time a piece of him dies with her. On one occasion, he even had to kill her himself.

When he succumbs to “beserker rage” he loses control of himself. And the aftermath horrifies him. He is even afraid of himself at times and one of the reasons why he distances himself from others.

Some happy/soft facts to make up for everything you just read:

Logan is incredibly fatherly at times, often taking younger mutants under his protection and guidance. He becomes a mentor to them and looks out for their well-being.

In one of the comics he takes a young girl (Jubilee) to the mall and followers her around carrying her bags. He loves doting on her and I find it so adorable.

He also teaches another mutant named Kitty how to dance.

In one mission he is tasked with taking care of an infant, Hope. And he is incredibly gentle and tender with her. Cradling her in his arms and being fiercely protective.

He has a deep love and connection with animals. Especially ones that have been mistreated or misunderstood.

Caring for an injured wolf, he nurses it back to health and releases it back into nature.

He also adopts a stray, abused dog at one point.

In one of the timelines, he funded and ran the ‘Jean Gray School for Higher Learning’ He was the headmaster, and was dedicated to protecting and teaching young mutants.

In one scene he literally makes pancakes for all the students. I love him so much.

His relationship with Nightcrawler (Kurt Wagner) is very brotherly. They share alot of respect and understanding for each other, and Nightcrawler often serves as Logan’s moral compass.

His happiest memories are when he was training in Japan. And he has a deep appreciation and admiration for the culture. Taking on the samurai code of honor, and respecting its discipline and humility.

His entire relationship with Laura Kinney (X-23). Essentially his daughter. Taking on a father-figure role for her.

In one of the comics he organizes a birthday party for her, knowing she never had one. He goes all out and it shows just how much he loves her.

Logan has a great sense of humor. Often dry and sardonic, he’s known for his quick wit and playful banter. Which adds a layer of warmth to his otherwise tough persona.

He is very fond of life’s simple pleasures. Which reflects his inner desire for peace and normalcy. He values the little things that make life enjoyable.

His numerous acts of kindness towards strangers. Logan is compassionate at heart.

He doesn’t comfort others with his words, but rather his presence. Logan has a very unique understanding of grief and tries to give others relief in knowing they aren’t alone.

WOW okay I wrote way too much. Tbh I actually cut a ton out of this but if anybody wants a part 2 I’d be happy to share more. Shoutout to my brother for helping me source all this with his comics lol.

If you read all this, you’re a real one. And I’m so glad we’re all witnessing the Logan Howlett Renaissance

[tryingonametaphor]

Why Will Byers?

An analysis and theory on why Henry/Vecna targeted Will first in season 1 and his plans for Will in season 5

‼️Contains The First Shadow (TFS) spoilers so please proceed with caution.‼️

This is going to be a little long but I’ve tried to give as much context as I can without actually being able to show snippets from the stage play. This is my interpretation of everything that went down as a member of the audience and not as someone who has read up any theories about TFS before. To understand why Henry took Will first in 1983, we have to start with -

Henry and Joyce

From all the times I’ve watched TFS, the one thing that has stuck with me is the final conversation Henry has with Joyce. It’s just before his last confrontation with Patty Newby and before he joins Brenner for good. Joyce is the last person (who doesn’t know about Henry’s powers) that he canonically talks to.

Throughout the entire play Joyce, Hopper, and Bob are investigating the animals dying at the hands of Henry and come to the conclusion that Victor Creel has been the one doing the killing. They get so close to solving the case. In her last conversation with Henry, Joyce tries to comfort him by saying that Victor will pay for his crimes - which makes Henry laugh because she’s so close yet so far from the truth. He gets a little frustrated and says something along the lines of “You don’t get it. But someday you will.” (edit 28/9: the exact dialogue is [Henry: you’re too nice. that is how they’ll get you. you have to learn to do anything you can to protect the ones you love] [Joyce: I don’t understand.] [Henry: You will.]) The next time we see Henry make a reappearance in Joyce’s life is during -

The Vanishing of Will Byers

Will is taken into the Upside Down (UD) by Henry. It’s not even a question anymore. All of the context clues from 1x1 lead us to believe that Will’s kidnapping was not by a demogorgon. Will - a 12 year old - miraculously survives a week in the upside down with no food or water. Will is even around the demogorgon a few times in the Upside Down. (Joyce communicating with Will through the lights and then the demogorgon coming after her immediately).

Barb dies the night she is taken but Will stays alive and also somehow manages to talk to Joyce through the wall. Joyce is led exactly to where Will was held at the end of s1 and he makes it out alive. It’s almost as if Henry knew all along that Joyce was the most capable of never giving up on finding her son. Like Henry took Will Byers because he was Joyce’s son. And like he was giving her just enough to know that Will was alive. Even when Joyce and Hopper find him at the end in a state of near death, he’s not injured by a creature. He was being prepared for the next stage of Vecna’s plan -

The Possession of Will Byers

The origins of Henry’s powers happen as such - As a kid, he is transported into the UD (originally coined Dimension X by the government) for a few hours because he touched something he wasn’t meant to touch. During his time in there, he came in contact with the Mind Flayer (MF). According to TFS this is the point in his life when he started getting “corrupted”. Brenner’s dad - who was one of the first people to enter dimension X - had mutated blood after but no powers. Henry was the first person to come in contact with the MF and it’s highly likely he got his powers because of this (This would also track considering how most of the party has been in the UD now but show no signs of having powers). The MF controls Henry for the rest of TFS and Henry grows more power hungry the more he kills.

In S2, Henry presumably sends the MF after Will - who has now had a year to heal from the events of 1983. Will is the only other person in all of ST to have had direct contact with the MF and survived it. Henry didn’t hesitate to kill Billy in S3, but he always gives everyone just enough to keep Will safe. Will himself tells Owens in S2 that the MF wants to kill everyone except him. Will once again survives the entire ordeal and is given a “break” for the next 2 seasons. Except I don’t believe he’s been just given a break. I think Will is -

Henry’s Sleeper Agent.

Ready to awaken in s5. I undoubtedly think that Will is going to have powers. And I don’t think they’re going to be the same as Henry and El. El and the other lab kids get their powers directly from Henry. Will’s powers will be directly from the MF like Henry. I believe this has been Henry’s plan all along and it’s further affirmed by what he tells Will in the recent VR game. That Will will be the key to Henry being able to infiltrate his friends’ minds. Jamie Campbell-Bower also mentioned during the S4 press that to get in character, he set up a display with all of Henry’s victims and targets’ faces on his wall(?), and Will was in the center.

Henry is going to use his connection with Will sneakily and midway through S5 he’s going to awaken Will’s powers (maybe in ep4 - which is said to be titled ‘Sorcerer’ and has young Will in it). Henry is going to try and manipulate his way into making an ally out of Will, and it’s not going to work because -

Will is the Perfect Character Foil.

Will is everything Henry could have been if he had a better support system. He is the perfect character foil. Unlike Henry, Will has a mother who loves him unconditionally and more importantly, believes him. Unlike Henry, the person who Will loves the most (the Patty to Will’s Henry: Mike) is going to love him back and stay by his side all season. No one is going to force them to be apart the way Henry was told to stay away from Patty. Will is not going to be easily swayed even though Henry has spent years crafting him into the perfect soldier. Sure, Henry has seen him heartbroken and sad, but that comes nowhere near to the amount of love and support Will is going to get from his people next season. And they’re going to quite literally defeat Vecna with the power of love and friendship. After that, Will Byers is getting the happy ending that Henry could have gotten.

[yourstardarling]

Lilith Analysis

(Lady Lilith, by Dante Gabriel Rossetti)

In my perspective, Lilith symbolizes the female intuition which is often vilified in our patriarchal society. She questions the status quo, defying societal norms and forges her own path for how she lives her life. In some interpretations, Lilith is depicted as the serpent in the garden, tempting Eve with the apple as revenge for her expulsion after refusing to submit to Adam. Targeting Eve instead of Adam, shows how Lilith understands the curious nature within women to want to know more and what ifs. It is the same curiosity that made Pandora open the box releasing malicious spirits into the world.

The energy of Lilith is a vengeful one as she sought revenge against God for her banishment out of the garden. In her expulsion, she was stated to steal babies and harm innocent lives, unsympathetic to anyone in her way. So within our charts, Lilith shows where we've experienced profound shame and societal rejection. It is where we are often demonized for refusing to yield to others' expectations. If we don't heal this pain it often becomes a form of self-destruction, fueling a need to gain revenge, harming anyone in our path. This part of our chart is usually suppressed, relegated to the shadows, but integration of this energy is crucial. Mainly because keeping our shame underneath the surface will often cause self-sabotage within the house Lillith is in. Finding the underlying root of the problem will often lead to reclaiming of your power, making Lilith be an energy of magnetization and authority. Neglection will only exacerbate internal conflict.

Lilith in the 1st:In the first house, these individuals are the walking embodiments of Lilith. They are often faced with deep-seated feelings of shame regarding their sexuality and physical appearance. Many have endured the pain of bullying in their youth, which has made them feel shunned out from society. This shame becomes a heavy burden that feels as if it is a part of them, complicating efforts to express their true self openly. Consequently, a portion of their identity remains veiled, guarded against potential judgment or rejection from others. Yet, beneath this veil within their unconscious, lies a potent magnetism. A profound sense of sexuality that others find rather attractive or unsettling. They find themselves both desired and feared. But honestly like Britney said it’s because, "All of the boys and all of the girls want to if you seek Amy." Lilith's influence in this house encourages independence and self-assertion. It teaches the importance of standing firm in the face of societal pressures and refusing to be demonized for your own authenticity. However, yielding to criticism and seeking external validation risks facing internal conflicts. A constant battle against yourself. That is why confronting the shadow aspects of one's personality should be practiced, as it offers a pathway to self-discovery and empowerment. When you are able to show resilience and unwavering faith in yourself, you're able to garner admiration and respect from those around you. The ability to transmute pain into productive actions serves as a magnetic force, attracting allies and opportunities alike. Learning to embrace your inner sexual energy is imperative, as it is something that cannot be suppressed. Unfortunately, this embracement may invite unwanted attention, leaving you vulnerable to exploitation and trauma. Overall, the role of Lilith in the first house is one of self-acceptance and defiance against societal norms. It's a journey marked by challenges, but also by profound personal growth and authenticity.

Lilith in the 2nd: In the house of personal gains, Lilith has felt great shame surrounding her personal values. Individuals with this placement have a hard time surrounding their self worth and physical assets. Possessive tendencies lie beneath the surface, as a consequence from being betrayed in the past. People may have taken advantage of them for their material value and stolen from them. Financial wounds run deep making them unable to properly trust themselves with money. Might find themselves in cycles of reckless spending, prioritizing instant gratification over long term investments. The types go on a shopping spree and then feel guilty for indulging materialistically.These people can either be overindulgent or extremely picky when it comes to what they spend. There is an inherent value of pleasure and spending resources on things that make you feel good.The sign Lilith is in will give you an idea on what you unwarily spend money on and guide your financial decisions. Implementing a budget plan can be very beneficial in uncovering and healing shame surrounding your spending habits. It will help you regulate your spending. Underlying shadow challenges when it comes to self worth is another aspect of this placement. Leading to having doubts about deservingness and attaining success. Lilith in the 2nd, prompts a reevaluation of your values. Rather than being overly picky, you're encouraged to be intentional in your pursuits. Learn to align your investments with your deepest values and aspirations. Family dynamics may also contribute to your relationship with money, with the possibility of past generations engaging in questionable financial practices. Additionally, Lilith's immature aspects may tempt individuals to resort to unethical means of acquiring wealth, such as engaging in sex work or participating in illicit activities. However, succumbing to these temptations risks exploiting others and ultimately perpetuating cycles of harm. In navigating the influence of Lilith in the 2nd house, you are urged to exercise caution and integrity in financial dealings. By confronting shadows and cultivating a sense of self-worth, they can transcend shame and reclaim power over their financial well-being.

Lilith in the 3rd: When Lilith is in the third house of youth and mental stimulation, these individuals have deep shame within their speech and communication. Oftentimes they were demonized as a child, facing constant scrutiny about their childish behavior. Parental guardians made them seem like they were to blame for the smallest issues that occurred. In school they may have felt shunned out from their peers, becoming the target of bullying and ridicule. This ridicule can even come from their teachers that overly criticized them for not being the perfect student, leading them to feel like they were a bad kid. Might indicate having a speech impediment, having a hard time communicating how you feel and issues surrounding being able to read. Your intelligence was significantly downplayed from the earlier years of school which made you believe you were dumb. For this reason, you may prefer being quiet and only speaking when you are needed to, often avoiding starting conversation. To others you may seem standoffish when you speak, but instead it can be anxiety to say what you really want because of public reaction. This Lilith wound is one centered around your inner child and taking back power over your mind. Intrusive thoughts of feeling less than can often be an underlying trigger, but you must recognize that these voices in your head are not your own. It is programming from the ridicule you received as a kid. Mindfulness and meditation practices can help regulate the outside input that comes in your head. You're a very intellectually capable individual that often understands knowledge about topics considered unconventional by society. Don’t be ashamed of what you know and use it to teach other people information you are passionate about.

Lilith in the 4th: Within the house of home and heritage, Lilith has wrested with feeling of shame for her family background. These individuals can often grow up feeling sexually repressed by their family. Criticism for what they were and being called a slut for wanting to express themselves. This placement reminds me of Meg from Family Guy, and how she is consistently made the butt of all ridicule by her family. As you went through puberty, you could've felt uncomfortable being objectified by family members. Some could've faced even faced exploitation by their own family. There is a strange focus on purity within the household and committing towards conservative ideals of presenting yourself. From their point of view, you may be seen as someone who is promiscuous and disobeying traditional values. You might find it hard to feel at home within yourself because of these past afflictions. This can even lead to you feeling ashamed about your emotional responses, often viewing them as evil instead of necessary feelings. Aside from sexuality, this Lilith placement also indicates having shame regarding your origin. There might have been concealed truths about your birth, unraveling as you mature. Might have felt like your family were strangers and you did not belong with them. Issues with the mother figure can be highlighted by this placement. You don't get along well and could feel a sense of cruelty from her. A shadow side to you is kept veiled from your family, which makes you feel like an outsider by them. You may have a reputation of being the rebellious cousin. They may harbor outdated ideologies such as racism, homophobia and xenophobia, that makes you more ashamed of them. The home you grew up in may have been the cause of this shame too, because of its design or infestation issues. Overall, stepping away from your family's point of view of the world is a big factor with this Lilith placement. You cannot allow their lives to dictate who you are meant to be. Learning to nurture yourself and finding your own community is an essential part of your journey. As time pass, you may discover yourself becoming a space for other people to confide in about their personal issues. A testament to Lilith making a home for herself outside the boundaries of Eden.

Lilith in the 5th: In the fifth house, individuals have grappled with profound shame surrounding the way they experience pleasure within their lives. Their childhood may have been faced with restrictions on the ways they could have fun, such as engaging in hobbies solely to appease their parents rather than for personal enjoyment. Activities you found enjoyment in, felt like you needed to keep hidden away from other people in order to not get ridiculed. There are plenty of hobbies you enjoy that others will find unorthodox to have. For example, going to shooting ranges, participating in drag shows, taking part in the circus or cosplaying your favorite characters. When it comes to your talents, you might face envy from others because they want the attributes that you have. May face hate in your extracurricular activities and being outcasted by team members. In your own eyes, your often unsure about your talents and feel like you're not good enough in your practice. Additionally, there is also shame regarding sexual pleasure. You might find it fun to explore, but some experiences make it unsettling for you to enjoy. There may be a need to keep your sex life a secret from other people. However, sex positivity can be a notable aspect of this placement though, not having much conservative notions in your sexual experiences. When it comes to children, you might feel some shame for not wanting to have kids and face scrutiny from others for this stance. You can even feel like you hate the thought of children and not wanting them around you. If you do end up having kids, they can exhibit Lilith quality traits of rebellion and unorthodox behavior. There is definitely a shadow side to how you gain pleasure with this placement, indulging in self destructive behaviors and selling yourself away for fun. You must learn to tame that primal urge within you when you are having a great time. Especially as this can lead to addictions to pleasure, such as having a gambling, drug abuse and being overly sexual. Learn to set boundaries when you're having fun.

Lilith In the 6th: In the house of service, Lilith plays a commanding role within her work space. This placement reminds me of The Devil wears Prada, where Miranda was seen as a formidable figure by her colleagues. Similarly, coworkers may harbor similar feelings toward you, casting you as assertive & harsh. You may face a lot of scrutiny in the workplace and could even work in an environment where there's a prevalence of discrimination. Workplace harassment can occur here as well, oftentimes facing oversexualization. Navigating and accepting your shadow persona in the workplace becomes essential. As long as you come there to do your job, that’s all that matters. Just try not to lash out at your colleagues because of misconception and other issues. There may be a big rumor that you are lazy for not doing as much as everyone else. However, you're the type of person that only comes and does the work that is necessary, not overworking themselves as everyone else. On the flip side, you can be hyper focused on work and do a lot more in your day that others don’t really see. This can take a toll on your health and work stress can be a big indication of this placement. Speaking of health, you might have a terrible relationship with health officials. Health experts in the past might have treated you poorly and even faced a misdiagnosis. Your relationship with health overall is something you can feel intense emotions around. A health condition could make you feel like you don’t have the same capabilities as other people. Might struggle with digestion and eating food to nourish yourself. There is a lot of necessary shadow work to uncover within your habits and daily routines with this placement. Learn to not be so hard on yourself, making time to properly maintain your physical needs.Health is wealth after all.

Lilith In the 7th: When Lilith lies in the house of partnerships, there is often shame surrounding the close connections these people have. They often easily attract people with Lilith energy in their lives, such as rebellion, ostracization and outcasts. You're often able to see the version of others that they keep hidden underneath. For some reason, people can feel like they can trust you with their problems and you make space to not judge them. Something about you just allows people to feel easily able to open up their shame to you. It might be because there is a part of you that has felt the same shame of being shunned out by other people. In your love life, there could be a tendency to feel outcasted by your partners which leads to having a warped perception of yourself. Partners often can make you feel like you are too much and incapable of being loved. May find it hard to feel their needs being met in their personal relationships. Here lilith indicates issues of being taken advantage of by other people and personal power being exploited. Aggressive aspects can also show facing abuse, which can make these individuals pretty guarded when meeting others. You could feel the need to be in control and have a dominant role in your love life. However, self-destructive tendencies may spur from not getting what you want out of a partner and lead you sabotaging your connections. You can often pursue relationships you know are unhealthy for you. There’s a tendency to want people that bring out an unhinged version of yourself, becoming a whole different person with a partner. Shadow work needs to be done as to why you chase these toxic connections, which sometimes is rooted from the way you viewed the partnership of your parents.

Lilith in the 8th: In the house of death and loss, Lilith is put to face the extremes. Each time they are in a transitional phase in their lives, they get kicked out of their paradise. These individuals understand the darker sides of life and are somewhat good at navigating their shadow. Shadow side can often take things to the extreme when they are out of control. Really good at understanding the taboo and being okay with things that are scarier for other people. A necessary need to make peace with inner demons and resolving past psychological conflicts. While they are able to easily exude a seductive persona, sex can be a harsh topic for them to feel comfortable with. Losing their virginity might have been a monumental experience that shifted the way they act in their lives. There is a need to work on resolving issues with sex and not being afraid of it . Also, you might be into some fetishes that you feel the need to keep hidden from other people. Hiding is a big coping mechanism for them, whenever they feel like the world rejects them, they bury themselves down in shadows to not be seen. A distinct relationship with death, some hold huge guilt for being unphased by death, while others worry about their own deaths. If a family member had died, you might feel guilty for not being sad or crying at the funeral. These people can mourn their innocence a lot, thinking of a time they were untouched by the world around them. During transitional phases of your life, you could be vilified and demonized for acting differently. Might have had a dark aesthetic or emo phase during your teen years. Change can be a scary thing for you and you could harbor strong resistance towards new possibilities. This mainly comes from the scrutiny you’ve felt by other people. Learn to embrace the taboo and understand change will only allow you to reclaim your power.

Lilith in the 9th: These individuals hold a complex relationship with religion and belief systems. Growing up, they likely experienced a religious environment that instilled fear and submission to authority. It's possible they had overly religious parents who prioritized adherence to faith, rather than showing genuine love and understanding for their children. As you mature, there's a tendency to reject traditional systems of beliefs for more esoteric philosophies, helping you find empowerment through alternative spiritual paths. Although shifting your beliefs will allow you to have a sense of freedom, remnants of past religious trauma still linger in your mind. Guilt for what you believe in is a big focus for this placement. They often find themselves at odds with mainstream perspectives, feeling a sense of alienation and struggling to fit in. There's a tendency to doubt their intelligence and the information they know. This struggle extends to academic pursuits as well, where they may feel out of place and struggle to connect with their peers. Moving away from their area of upbringing can be liberating, allowing them to explore their shadow aspects and embrace their darker side through travel and adventure. In doing so, they may discover a newfound magnetism and allure, attracting others to their path towards self-discovery.

Lilith in the 10th: In the house of public career, Lilith exerts a strong influence on one's outward image and persona. When in public settings, you often see people being easily magnetized towards you. If Lilith is conjunct the Midheaven (MC), it can signify experiences of unwanted attention, including catcalling. There's a deep-seated fear of being seen, stemming from the difference between your public persona and true self-image. Overexposure to the public eye can lead to discomfort, particularly in career fields where others seem to dominate or overshadow you. There is a natural ability to exude sensuality that others find intriguing. They may develop a reputation for sensuality and allure, which can intimidate others, particularly men, due to the inherent power they radiate. Despite the fantasization, they may resent the objectification and sexualization. In professional settings their bosses may even attempt to take advantage of them. This placement can also indicate stage fright and social anxiety, causing them to prefer the sidelines rather than the spotlight. An unbalanced version of this placement would be sabotaging yourself when it comes to your career. Promoting bad behavior so that you can gain the upper advantage in situations. It's crucial for them to be vigilant against exploitation by authority figures and to properly navigate professional relationships and contracts. Despite potential misconceptions about their character, individuals with this placement must embrace their authenticity and prioritize their own career aspirations over societal expectations. Your that b*tch for real, and you cannot allow the public opinion of you to dictate who you are. Also, Lilith in the 10th house may signify a challenging relationship with their father, involving absence, mistreatment, or attempts at control. This further fuels aspirations to become a successful person, in order to prove their farther wrong. Embracing their power and authenticity is important for success and fulfillment in the professional world.

Lilith in the 11th: Friendships are never easy with Lilith in the 11th. Despite outward display of support, these individuals frequently encounter betrayal from those they consider close allies, discovering that supposed friends harbor secret animosity and ulterior motives towards them. Friends could make jokes about insecurities you have, while accusing you of being soft for finding offence. Your secrets are not the safest within your social networks, they are like blind items ready to spill all the tea about your personal life. This atmosphere of distrust can lead to a cautious approach to forming friendships, resulting in a preference for family and romantic relationships over the unpredictability of friendships. Despite these challenges, individuals with this placement often gravitate towards unconventional or marginalized groups of people. Finding companionship in the outcasts who defy societal norms. They may become strong advocates for the rights and liberation of marginalized groups, focusing on the need for women's rights and the empowerment of societal underdogs. So while friendships may be met with much difficulty, these individuals create meaningful connections with fellow non-conformists in society. Finding solidarity in their shared struggles, leading to finding community outside of Eden.

Lilith in the 12th: Individuals with Lilith in the 12th house tend to keep Lilith's energy to the depths of their subconscious mind. They are often unaware of its magnetic, rebellious, and sexually charged nature. May doubt their own sexuality and seductive capabilities, feeling overshadowed by others charm. However, when in solitude, Lilith emerges to confront them about their inner shadows and demons. This often leads to solitary battles with their deepest fears and insecurities. Sleep issues are common with this placement, as they may struggle to maintain a stable sleep routine. May prefer the quiet solitude of the night for introspection and self-discovery. In their dreams, they often confront scenarios designed to evoke feelings of inadequacy and shame, forcing them to confront their inner vulnerabilities. They can be drawn towards dream working, meditation, shifting and exploring unique ways to access their subconscious mind. By using the arts, they can transmute fears and underlying issues in their mind to a reservoir of creativity. You can often see their shadow portrayed boldly in their art. Also, these individuals are often empathetic and hold nonjudgmental view towards the shadows of other people. Overall, through uncovering their darkness, Lilith in the 12th house can lead to spiritual growth and artistic development when integrated unapologetically.

____

Remember to look at the aspects to Lilith in your chart. Since it is an astrological point & asteroid, it doesn't hold as much significance compared to the planets. So aspects allow you to know how much of this energy can be brought up to the surface. Also, this reading is for all versions of Lilith in the chart.

-your Star Darling

(Portrait of Simonetta Vespucci, by Piero Di Cosimo)

[moonisreading]

Meeting Again;

“Why does everything change when someone suddenly barge in your life?“

Neglected Reader with Batfam | The way of Healing

It’s just a simple mission.

Kill the person threatening your position of becoming a heir, a competitor, an obstacle - a nobody.

It just simple procedure that Damian did for a thousand times on his life, but why?

Why and how the hell he get capture easily!?

He was trained blood, sweat and tears just to became a powerful heir - a standard that his grandfather and his mother expecting him to be, But it seems he failed. He was captured so easily to a person he is related by blood, from his mother the person is the older or maybe the oldest to his biological father family.

But the person is much better than he expected - just like a gun, his sibling is much faster like they done it all before.

There’s a lot of things to learn from [Name].

Yet Damian didn’t expect the killer instinct he saw that day when they first met, its menacing, that makes him first ever be feel unsettle at someone. He’s expecting to be killed on the spot when the person hold him by his collar with a glint of red can be seen in his siblings eyes - but it didn’t happened.

Instead he was put down and just ruffle his head heaving a tired sigh, and that day onwards his “punishment” is to help the farm of potatoes and multiple cat and dogs in the mountain side in their little cottage. Damian swear in his life he will gain honor and revenge toward his sibling one day - but it never came when there’s a pregnant cat sitting on his lap and dogs barking for his attention.

Theres is one thing that are gnawing in his mind while in the cottage, when did his sibling has such a monstrous instinct?

Theres first meeting is one of them, but there’s a certain moment that he won’t forget, he remember the time that he’s watching two mother of cat nursing each other kittens, Damian saw [Name] react faster when a bird house about to fall off the launch, the latter watch the oldest bolt from their porch into other side of the property catching it both hands.

Or the time some people playing nearby their place, throwing their axe on a target (Damian and his sibling just strolling around the area) a sudden slip of momentum tumble them forward, the axe are thrown in their direction. Damian with instinct of danger saw the incoming force of the axe without him moving [Name] just outstretched their hand and caught it by the handle, they toss it back hitting a tree with the stranger standing beside it.

The most thing he treasure his time with the oldest are the time he went back trying to assassinate [Name] but it always ended up catching his sword, dagger, avoided traps and so forth. It embarrassed him greatly and he goes back to his mother in shame when the woman came for him.

It ended up having punishment and lecture from his mother and his grandfather.

But when he finally defeat his mother he gain another mentor which his mother promised to meet.

His Biological Father “Batman”.

He was accepted immediately and be train under him, its a honor a great successor for the robin mantle, he fought tooth and nail in the family of detective to wear the mask of Robin. Damian succeeded, he fought and train with his other siblings he gain a sister and a brothers, yet a gnawing feeling in chest reminded him of someone when they pass by a chipped painted door at the Corner of the manor.

Damian remember someone when he saw a familiar photo where Pennyworth holding the photo frame with guilt invincible to the naked eyes but Damian manage to took notice it, no matter whoever is the half blood carrying in their vein, [Name] is his sibling. He could learn from them and meet them once again, talk about his pets he adopted while residing in the manor.

He wanted to meet them again, and what’s better way to go there is by using Grayson offer when he promised to take him somewhere he want when he finally made friends in his school. Which he succeeded by the way and off he go to the familiar mountain.

He remember the time that [Name] making him promise, that “Don’t let our family know my identity.” Damian didn’t know what they ment that way, he remembered he just scoff and forgot the whole promise in his mind. Yet it resurface when Jason suddenly has an episode.

It came a surprise for him, unfamiliar even so he decided for the two of them to watch cat videos on his phone, which Damian remember that [Name] and him use that a lot when one of them can’t sleep that night a way of comfort. That’s the time when he remembered the promise when he heard from Jason some parts of his past, an older sibling before Dick arrives in the manor a person welcome him when Bruce took him in under his wing, and someone who look for him.

A promise is a promise, so Damian keep quiet.

Arriving the familiar cottage he ran where he assumed the sibling of his doing at this day and time, Damian pass by the familiar fence with lush of green of potatoes. Cats and dogs lounge everywhere watching and guarding, some dogs bark and wag their tails when they see him, a ghost smile crept into his face seeing the reaction.

”This place didn’t change a bit.”

It only earn him a questioning look from Dick with a confuse smile adorning in his face, Damian just ignore him when he climbs over the fence between him and the farm lush of green, that’s where he saw them. A person wearing a button up shirt that are tuck in the high waisted baggy pants, wearing a straw hat on their head holding a basket. They turn to look at him.

Damian saw their face slowly morph into joy, eyes brighter when their eyes landed into him, he saw their shoulder shake as they slowly walk toward them.

It soon ended up him being push by their chest holding him up when they jump through the fence and give Damian a bear hug, he didn’t struggle to be put down, accepting his fate to be buried by familiar smell he miss a lot.

one shot. Drabble. Platonic. Writing practice.

Might not write again.

[annievrse]

LABYRINTH

FEATURING: TRAFALGAR LAW x FEM!READER

SUMMARY: When your captain, Luffy, tells you to run from Bartholomew Kuma on the Sabaody Archipelago instead of fighting, you end up on a submarine...

CONTENT: Fic structure: Sabaody Archipelago → Zou spoilers, canon timeline but majority canon-divergent events, acts are organised by scenes, she/her pronouns, no use of y/n. Content Warnings: Panic attacks, anxiety, descriptions of injuries, blood, passing out, trauma (Luffy & Law), drinking (one instance), torture and violence, guns + getting shot, Doflamingo (+ his past).

Crossposted on AO3: Here

ACT I... IT ONLY HURTS THIS MUCH RIGHT NOW [15k] ACT II... IT ONLY FEELS THIS RAW RIGHT NOW [18k] ACT III... BREAK THROUGH, BREAK DOWN [20k] ACT IV... HOW'D YOU TURN IT RIGHT AROUND? [20k]

See below the cut for the Reader's Devil Fruit! (This can be considered a spoiler for the fic if you want to be surprised).

The Sew-Sew Fruit: A round fruit wrapped in white thread.

The Sew-Sew Fruit is a uniquely versatile Paramecia-type Devil Fruit that grants its user the ability to control and manipulate needles and thread. From creating intricate garments to dealing devastating blows, the user’s mastery of their powers can drastically affect the battlefield—or even the very fabric of a person’s being.

Powers & Abilities 1. Needles: The user can materialize and control a variety of needles of different sizes, from tiny, sharp pins to enormous, thick needles that can pierce through armour. These needles can be used offensively, defensively, or subtly, such as sewing together injuries or fabricating traps. The user has full control over these needles, manipulating them at will to attack or defend in a variety of creative and dangerous ways.

Offensive Uses: The needles can be fired at high speed, becoming deadly projectiles capable of piercing even the toughest materials. By controlling the thread that attaches them, the user can manipulate the needles mid-flight, ensuring they find their mark.

Defensive Uses: The user can also create shields or swords, using needles to form a web-like structure of thread that blocks incoming attacks. Needles can also disarm opponents by targeting their weapons or controlling their limbs, making it harder for enemies to retaliate.

Tactical Uses: Needles can be used to stabilise ropes for abseiling, stitch up broken structures, fix broken buildings or stabilise bridges in an emergency.

2. Sew: This technique involves manipulating large quantities of thread to bind, subdue, or harm targets. The user can weave and manipulate threads in almost any environment—whether in the air, water, or solid ground—and use them to entangle or control opponents. With enough control, the user can manipulate threads to create clothing or equipment out of nothing, even adjusting their own garments to suit various needs. This ability is as creative as it is practical and can be used for a wide range of applications.

Offensive Uses: The user can conjure thick, sharp threads to slice through enemies, creating ribbons of deadly silk that can cut through flesh and bone. Alternatively, they can form spools of thread that tighten around enemies, squeezing them into submission or piercing their skin.

Defensive Uses: Threads can be used to bind attackers or shield allies. Users can also create large thread nets to slow opponents or trap them. In desperate times, the user could stitch up a torn sail or make an emergency parachute from their clothes.

Healing Uses: The thread can also stitch wounds or close injuries.

3. Seam (The Mindscape): The user has the power to pull the soul of a living being out of their body and sew it into a mental "seam"—a space where the soul can wander freely, but their physical body is left in a dreamlike, almost immobile state. While in this mindscape, the target's consciousness is free to roam, but their body remains comatose, trapped in a state where they are unaware of the passage of time.

Effect on Target: When a soul is sewn into the seam, the target's body becomes a puppet, barely alive and completely unaware of what’s happening around them. They can wander freely inside the mindscape, but they cannot control their physical body, which may be left defenceless in the outside world. Time seems to pass differently inside the seam, and a target can lose days, months, or even years while only moments pass outside.

Mindscape Reality: The mindscape can reflect the target's deepest fears, desires, or memories, often manipulating their perception of reality. This can create a disorienting environment where the target cannot tell what’s real and what is an illusion, effectively trapping them in a twisted version of their own mind.

Adverse Effects on the User: While powerful, the use of the Seam technique is taxing on the user. If the user does not manage their energy properly, there can be severe consequences. Prolonged usage can lead to excessive blood loss, typically through the hands—where the thread seems to extract life force—and chronic lightheadedness, causing the user to faint or collapse after extended use.

Permanent Effects: If the user keeps a soul inside the seam for too long without letting them return to their body, there is a risk of permanent damage to the victim’s mind, making them a mindless shell of their former self. Similarly, if the user remains in the seam for too long, they risk losing their own soul to the space, becoming trapped in a dreamlike state themselves.

4. Seam Ripper: A powerful counter-technique designed to protect the user’s consciousness from being influenced, infiltrated, or manipulated by external forces. Using the same fundamental principle as the Seam ability, which allows the user to trap souls and manipulate the mindscape, Seam Ripper acts as a mental defence mechanism, "cutting" away any attempts to tamper with or enter the user's mind.

Psychic Battles: In situations where the user is up against an enemy that manipulates minds, such as someone with telepathy or mind control, Seam Ripper is invaluable. It can break the opponent’s hold over the user’s body and mind, allowing the user to regain control and counterattack.

Countering Other Devil Fruits: Against Devil Fruits like the Magu Magu no Mi (Magma-Magma Fruit) or Suna Suna no Mi (Sand-Sand Fruit), Seam Ripper could be used as a defensive tool to sever any threads of control the enemy tries to establish over the user's mental state, preventing them from becoming disoriented or easily manipulated.

Protection for Allies: If the user is in a team fight, Seam Ripper can also be used to protect allies from mind control or illusions. By keeping their mind free of external influences, the user can focus on helping others without losing control over their own actions.

5. Interfacing: A complex defensive technique where the user manipulates large quantities of thread to weave a nearly invisible network of fine, bulletproof walls. These threads create a labyrinthine structure—an intricate maze—around the user or their allies, effectively confining enemies within a maze of unyielding walls. Each wall, while deceptively thin, can withstand bullets, blades, and even larger attacks, making them ideal for defence, trapping enemies, or controlling the flow of battle.

The technique's true strength lies in its versatility and ability to adapt to the environment. It can be deployed instantly, forming walls of thread that act as both a physical and mental barrier, disorienting opponents as they navigate the maze.

Trapping Enemies: Interfacing is an ideal technique for trapping large groups of enemies or powerful foes who rely on brute force or ranged attacks. It confines their movements and limits their ability to retaliate, while also providing the user with the ability to pick off enemies one at a time.

Control of the Battlefield: The labyrinth not only serves as a trap but as a tool for controlling the flow of battle. The user can close off certain paths, funnelling enemies into chokepoints or force them into confined spaces where they are at a disadvantage. It can also be used to protect allies, making it difficult for enemies to get to them.

Psychological Warfare: The maze is a tool for disorientation. Enemies trapped within it are often at a disadvantage as they struggle to navigate through the confusing structure. Over time, the maze can break the spirit of enemies, making them more susceptible to mistakes or surrender.

6: Binding: An advanced and highly dangerous technique that allows the user to pull memories from a person's mind and transform them into solid, real-world objects or events. When someone’s memory is extracted using the Seam or similar techniques, Binding solidifies the memory by "weaving" it into reality, making it materialize as though it had always existed.

This ability manipulates the very nature of a person's memories, turning the intangible (thoughts, recollections, or imagined scenarios) into something that can be interacted with physically. The user must be cautious, as these manifestations are not limited to harmless recreations—they can be objects, environments, or even people who appear precisely as they were in the person’s mind. Once bound, these memories can have an unpredictable impact on both the person who owns the memory and the world around them.

Trapping Enemies with Memories: The user can trap an enemy in a situation by binding a specific memory to reality. For instance, a traumatic memory can manifest as a real-world trap, forcing the enemy to relive their worst fear in physical form, distracting them long enough for an attack or escape.

Manipulating the Battlefield: Binding can be used to manipulate the environment around the user. A memory of a past battlefield, a familiar place, or even a natural disaster can be made real, distorting the surroundings to give the user an advantage or to confuse the enemy.

7: Stitch: This is the most dangerous and enigmatic ability of the Sew-Sew Fruit. It is an advanced and final step in manipulating memories. When used in tandem with Binding, Stitch takes the already manifested memory and secures it permanently in the physical world, making it an unalterable fixture of reality. Unlike Binding, which creates temporary, often unstable manifestations, Stitch locks the memory into existence, preventing it from fading, shifting, or dissipating.

Once a memory is "stitched" into reality, it becomes as permanent as any natural part of the world—whether it’s an object, an event, a place, or even a person. This technique allows the user to cement entire histories or scenarios into the present, permanently altering the world around them.

Creating Permanent Allies or Minions: If the user wishes, they can create a permanent army of memory-constructed figures or allies. Once these individuals are stitched into existence, they are real, living beings, albeit based on the memory from which they were drawn. This can be a powerful tool in battles that require long-term assistance.

Alterations to the Battlefield: Stitch can also be used to permanently alter the environment in the user's favour. A battlefield memory could be "stitched" into existence, creating an environment that traps or confuses enemies or provides a constant source of cover for the user’s team.

Weapon Creation: By extracting memories of powerful weapons or tools, the user can create permanent, reliable sources of combat strength. Once stitched into reality, these weapons would become unbreakable and always available.

Historical Manipulation: In larger-scale battles or political maneuvering, Stitch can alter the course of history by creating a permanent record of a particular event. For instance, the memory of a legendary battle or a famous leader could be made tangible, affecting the outcome of future events.

In essence, Stitch is the final, irreversible step in altering reality with the Sew-Sew Fruit. It allows the user to permanently cement a memory into the real world, creating a lasting change that cannot be undone. This powerful technique has the potential to reshape the world, but it comes with the risk of unintended consequences, personal trauma, and a heavy toll on the user’s energy and mind. It is a tool of immense power and responsibility, capable of creating eternal legacies or causing irreparable damage.

[help-itrappedmyself]

Danny Punches a Clown Part 6

Masterpost

Danny, after many promises and assurances, lets Red Robin take him to the batcave. They travel by car, and as fancy as it was, Danny was almost scared to touch anything inside it. Red was a much better driver than his father though, so he just closed his eyes and focused on trying to keep his healing up.

The Batcave turned out to be an actual cave, underground, with actual bats in it. He was whisked to a medical area too quickly to see much of anything else besides some other vehicles and a giant computer set up. 

Someone was waiting in the medical space with a tray of tools and bandages ready next to the bed, Red introduced him as Agent A. They were quick to lie him down on a cot and set him up to a heart monitor and that had Red and the A frowning immediately.

“It’s a medical condition.” Danny blurted, and both pairs of eyes shot to him. “My heartrate is naturally very slow, temperature runs cold, pale skin, slow circulation so I can't have a lot of different medications." Not that any medications would really work, but better safe than sorry. Them not working would be suspicious, and Danny does not have the energy or focus for trying to keep straight any real explanations right now.  "It’s fine, I promise.”

Agent A nodded slowly. “Is there anything else we should know before we start treatment?”

“Just can't give me any medicines, I think that's the only relevant bit.”

“Alright, I will keep that in mind. Please lift your shirt so I can see the wound.”

Danny does, and they manage their expressions quite well on seeing it. Agent A goes immediately for creams and bandages.

“What burned you like that?” Red asked.

“Gun.” Danny was starting to slur. He did not want to sleep right now, with these people here.

“A gun? What kind of gun causes burns?”

“New blaster, parents made it special.”

“Your parents make guns?”

Danny shrugs, turning his head to look at Red instead of the far off ceiling of the cave. “My parents make lots of things. They're scientists, inventors." Danny waves his arm around vaguely. "The gun was new though, hadn’t been shot with that one before. The earlier versions were much less powerful.”

“Are you saying that your parents are the ones that shot you?” Red asked gently, taking a seat in the chair next to the bed. “It wasn’t just their gun that was used?”

Danny frowns. “Well yeah.”

Tim is very concerned at the tone he just used, like getting shot at by your parents was normal. “Do they shoot at you a lot?”

“Fair amount I suppose.” Red could see Danny thinking really hard about something. Dany’s head was really starting to hurt. His brain was fuzzy and he knew he should be concerned about something, but couldn’t figure out what. His parents shooting at him was nothing new, considering. “Like, they did it more than Vlad but I don’t see him as often, and they’ve done it longer than the GIW, but since the GIW has started they’ve been about equal I guess. I mean, sometimes all the defense systems in the house target me but that wasn’t technically intentional. Took forever for us to figure out how to get them to stop that.”

“Danny, when was the last time you slept?” Red asked gently.

Danny wasn’t sure if his blip earlier this morning counted. He didn’t think it lasted more than an hour, but the last time he slept before that was before his fight in Amity, escaping through the ghost zone and running around in this dimension.

“It’s been awhile.” Danny landed on. True enough for medical history he supposed.

“Right.” A finished the last of the bandages and tugged Danny’s shirt back down. “Well, why don’t you do that now, while we go and find you something to eat.”

“I’m too tired to fight food right now.”

Tim shared a look with Alfred before turning back to Danny. “Okay then. Maybe sleep first and then eat?”

“I will go start making something now that you’re all set up here Mister Danny.” Agent A states, walking past the medical curtains and shutting them behind him. Red pulled out a tablet and started tapping on it. He noticed Danny’s eyes on him after a moment.

“You going to sleep?”

“Strange place, strange people. Not sure that’s the best decision here.”

Red looked up from his tablet.

“You trusted me enough to come here. Trust me enough to sleep. I will make sure no one but me or A comes in before you’re ready.”

[traveler-at-heart]

Come running back to me

Request by @esposadejoyhuerta - babe, I tried, but angst evades me.

Summary: Wanda cheats on you and Natasha is there to help you heal.

Wanda Maximoff x F!R, Natasha Romanoff x F!R

A/N: Reader has Magneto like powers.

There’s something in the air that makes you restless as you walk down the streets. It’s too calm for an autumn afternoon in London.

“Blonde suits you” you say as you stop at a corner. There’s a chuckle behind you.

“Though I’d fool you” Natasha says, coming out of the shadows and standing next to you.

“I’m not easily fooled. It’s nice to see you”

“Likewise” the woman nods.

It’s been almost two years since part of the Avengers have been on the run. Your abilities have made you an especially important target, so you spend most of the time hiding on your own. Divide and conquer.

“And how are things?” you say. It’s been a month since you spoke with Wanda, and you don’t know if Natasha knows.

“Great. They’re about to get even better” she sighs. “If you don’t mind, we need to borrow Wanda. Could use your help as well”

“Wait, what? Wanda is not with me” you look at Natasha, alarmed.

“She left two days ago… the same she always does when she meets you”

“Did she say where…?” Natasha shakes her head no and you feel like throwing up. You can’t lose her, not now.

“Steve” the woman calls through her burner, but is interrupted. “Understood, we’re on our way” Natasha turns to you. “Come on, we have a lead”

—

The joy of reuniting with Steve is short lived, because your mind is reeling with the possibilities of what could have happened to Wanda.

Was she captured by the US? Did HYDRA find her? You’re not sure which one of those is worse.

You also think back to your last conversation. How you offered her to stay together, have your own place away from everything… a future in the middle of uncertainty.

Guilt invaded your mind. What if she was overwhelmed by your proposal and left to think things through?

“We have an alien aircraft and four subjects” Sam informs. The four of you descend from the Quinjet, Natasha holding on to you. You set her down gently, and you both jump right in to fight the aliens.

Wanda looks at you with relief, and then a flash of panic crosses her features.

As you spot a cut in her forehead, your patience runs out, and you use the alien’s own blade to cut its head off. The weapon floats in the air as you manipulate it with your powers, sending it across the train station to knock down another alien that Natasha was fighting.

There’s an exchange between your friends and the creatures, but you’re too busy walking to Wanda.

She’s not alone. Vision is holding on to her hand, looking up at her as if…

No, that can’t be.

“Y/N” Wanda pleads when everything clicks for you.

Wanda and Vision, together. For how long, who knows, but long enough for her to leave you behind without a word. She risked getting caught just to see him, all the while you were the one putting your neck on the line to make sure she was safe.

“Please” she sighs when you step back.

“Don’t” you shake your head, going around the corner to hide yourself from the team. Leaning against a wall, you pinch the bridge of your nose, holding back tears. The feeling of betrayal burns your throat as a sob escapes from your mouth. You try to stiffle it, breathing to calm yourself down.

A hand rests on your shoulder, and you don’t need to open your eyes to know who it is.

“I’m sorry” Natasha says, wiping away another tear that rolls down your face. “I’m really sorry, Y/N”

“I can find my way back from here” you say after a beat of silence. You won’t spend another moment with Wanda.

“Well, that’s not gonna work” Steve says, joining you. There’s compassion in his eyes, but also a sense of urgency. “New York has been targeted as well. Time to assemble”

—

The trip to Wakanda will take at least 6 hours. This aircraft is smaller and slower than the Avengers’ Quinjet. You understand they’ve had to lay low and make the best of the resources they can find.

This also means you’re left with fewer places to hide from Wanda.

You go to the back of the jet, sitting on the floor. It’s cold and uncomfortable, but you don’t care. The silence is defeaning, Steve coordinating with Natasha in a low voice, Wanda reassuring Vision while you refuse to look her way.

“We’re almost there” Natasha says after a few hours.

“I can tell” you nod, stretching.

“How?”

“The vibranium. I feel it. It’s a little overwhelming”

“How so?”

“I’m used to sensing different materials that can be manipulated by my powers. They’re everywhere. But vibranium is so rare so it’s not part of my… filter. I’m just not used to its presence”

“Is it uncomfortable?” Natasha says with a frown and you shake your head. She nods, placing her hand on your shoulder.

As you watch her walk back to the copilot seat, your eyes meet Wanda’s. You look away, swallowing to keep the tears at bay.

Once you arrive, the team meets, reaching out to everyone that can join the impending battle. You barely register the conversation, looking out the window. It’s a nice view.

There’s talk about how to destroy the Mind Stone while keeping Vision alive.

“You should destroy it while we still can” he asks Wanda.

“But you’ll die”

Good.

There’s a gasp and you turn around, looking at Wanda. Natasha stares too, confused, which confirms that You didn’t say it out loud, only thought about it.

“That’s too much, even for you” Wanda says.

“Get the fuck out of my head, then. If you want warm and fuzzy thoughts, maybe don’t cheat on me, Wanda”

The silence hangs in the room, and you leave, knowing your presence is only making it worse for everyone. Steve asked you to come and fight, not put on a show.

You stand at the first line of defense, next to Natasha, Steve and Bucky. As soon as the alien aircrafts show up, you bring them down, or make them crash against each other.

Once Thor joins the fight and takes over, you direct your attention to hand to hand combat. Using their own weapons against them, you keep the aliens at bay, clearing the path for Natasha and Steve.

“I’ve had enough of you” one of the aliens you saw in Edinburgh jumps, and they’re too quick, punching you and throwing you across the field, leaving you out of breath. That and the exhaustion from using your powers for such an intense fight make you dizzy, and you’re not sure you’ll be able to stand up in time.

Red wisps of magic throw the alien against a machine, killing them instantly.

“Are you ok?” Wanda runs to your side. Up until now, she had stayed next to Vision.

“I’m fine” you lie. She’s about to argue with you when everything goes quiet.

Thanos, you hear someone whisper, and you immediately turn around. A chill runs down your spine as a gigantic figure shows up in the middle of the battlefield.

“I’m too tired to fly all the way there. Throw me and then get back to the stone”

“You’re too weak” she protests.

“Just do it”

Wanda listens and you join Thor, Steve close behind. You close your hands in fists, so Thano’s armour closes around his own body, crushing him. As Thor wields his axe, you pull away the gauntlet, throwing it to T’Challa. He carries it, putting distance between it and Thanos.

The creature let’s out a groan, throwing you against a tree while Thor pushes the axe against his neck. His arms shake with the force he is exerting, but it’s not enough.

Reaching forward, you use your powers to push down, moving the weapon further down his neck. You begin to see black spots, exhausted from the physical exhertion.

Thankfully, Steve shows up, delivering a final blow that separates Thanos’ head from his body.

You’re too tense to let go, fearing he’ll be able to grow a second head. It’s only until Natasha runs to your side that you drop the headless body.

Out of breath, you fall to your knees, trying to stop shaking.

“Are you ok?” Natasha asks, inspecting every inch of your body.

“Fine” you mutter. Then, you bend over and throw up blood. “Ok, maybe not”

—

Shuri is next to your bed, checking your vitals. She’s been making her rounds between Vision and you. It seems like she’ll be able to separate the stone from the droid.

“How is she?” Natasha asks, looking at you. It’s been 12 hours since you passed out.

“She’s stable. Her body needs to recover. It was overexhertion from exceptional use of her power, there are no other injuries. But I am told she can heal faster than a regular person, so…”

“Yeah” Natasha nods, sighing. “She’s strong. I’m just worried”

“It will be fine, agent. The price of saving the universe”

You wake up the next night, in a dark room lit only by the monitor that keeps your vitals visible. You feel weak and thirsty, but you also know you have the get out of here.

Leaving the room behind, you walk out of the building when a voice stops you.

“You’re up” Wanda says and goes after you when you keep walking. “Wait, what are you doing? You can’t leave”

“I can’t stay here. I’m an outlaw”

“I’m sure that will change now that you’ve saved the universe. Come on. You need your rest” Wanda takes your arm and you yank it away, as if her touch burns.

“Don’t act like you’re concerned for me. You don’t care about me at all, Wanda”

“That’s not true…”

“How long?” you finally turn to her, and hold her stare as a tear rolls down her cheek.

“Six months”

You nod, feeling like you might throw up again for a very different reason.

“Hope you’re very happy with him. Goodbye”

“No, wait! I didn’t mean for it to happen… I didn’t want to hurt you”

“And yet here we are” you mumble, wiping away the tears that run down your face. “Go be with him. We’re done here”

You use the little strenght you have to turn invisible, hoping that will be enough to stop her from following you.

Still, Wanda stays glued to her spot, sobbing quietly.

“Is Y/N ok?” Natasha rushes to your room. “Where is she?”

“She’s gone”

“Why did you let her leave? She’s too weak to do anything”

“I couldn’t stop her”

“I wonder why that is” Natasha bites back and Wanda glares at her.

“Don’t talk to me like that, Natasha, you have no idea…”

“I do, actually. She risked her life to keep the government away from us. She was alone for two years while we protected you, Wanda. You’re the one that screwed up here and it’s on you if something happens to her” Natasha says in an even tone, as if she’s bored with Wanda’s childish complaints. “Your precious robot is ready. Go be with him. The rest of us will clean after your mess”

It’s been a month.

You’re in Norway, in the middle of nowhere. No internet, radio or phone. You’re clueless about what happened after the Battle of Wakanda and honestly, couldn’t care less. 

All you do is go around the forest, think about Wanda and hate her.

You miss her terribly, but it’s not like the other times, when you were apart, knowing you’d see her again. There’s no reunion or anticipation to hold her in your arms again. To hear her laugh and feel her lips on yours.

That part of your life is done for good. There’s nothing left.

The rain starts in the middle of your run, so you create a force field to shield you from the drops. As you approach the trailer, you notice the door is ajar.

Alerted, you go inside, ready to attack.

Natasha is fast asleep in your bed.

“Hey” you nudge her with your foot and she grumbles.

“You took forever” 

“Well, there’s nothing else to do around here so I’m usually gone for hours” you explain. “Wanna go for a swim?”

“The water is freezing, are you insane? Oh, never mind, you are!” she punches your arm and you laugh.

“What are you on about, Romanoff?”

“You left Wakanda half dead. And for a moment I thought you were, it took me forever to find you” 

“How did you find me?” you wonder, taking off your wet sneakers, leaning against the wall while Natasha sits up, crossing her legs. 

“McDonald’s security camera”

“I do love me some fries” you sigh. “So, what are you doing here?”

“Just checking to see if you’re ok”

“I’m alive” you shrug your shoulders. “That’s about it”

Natasha stares for a little too long, and you fidget under the intensity of her green eyes. You know what she means, but you refuse to mention Wanda or your break up.

“Come home with me” she pleads, her voice soft. You’re surprised at her vulnerability. 

“I can’t stand to watch her with that toaster every single day”

“They’re not in New York” 

“Where are they, then?”

“Does it matter?” she challenges you. Of course, it doesn’t. It’s not your business. Not anymore. You sit next to her, bringing your knees to your chest.

“I was barely an Avenger, and the Compound… I don’t know, Nat. I don’t feel like I belong anywhere anymore. Especially in places where we were together”

“Who said anything about the Compound? I’m in my thirties, I figured having a bunch of roommates was too much. I’m living in my own place now. And looking for someone to split the rent with, since I have very good taste and it’s in an expensive area” 

“I thought roommates were too much for you” you say with a smile.

“Multiple, yes. One, I can handle” 

You sigh, looking around you. You’ve been miserable and bored out of your mind. At some point, you’ll have to live again. And if you’re gonna hate life, might as well do it in a city where you can get decent food.

“Ok” you nod, smiling when she extends her hand to seal the deal.

“You better not leave wet towels in the bathroom floor” she warns you.

—

“You lied to me” you grumble, giving the wall a second coat of paint. Natasha ignores you and you glare. “You just wanted someone who’d help you paint the place for free”

“Absolutely not!” Natasha shakes her head no. 

Except, maybe she left out how the apartment needed some work and there was nothing on it except the walls. You’re being annoying, but you actually don’t mind. This is the first time in your life where you get to decide how to live. It also helps to get your mind of everything that happened in the last month. When you’re assembling furniture and arguing over color palettes, heartbreak is not at the forefront of your mind.

You have not settled on a couch, so you’re still using the one you got from the Compound. Natasha insists that it doesn’t have to be anything too expensive, but you keep saying a good living room is the soul of any great apartment.

“It’s not like we’re having a lot of people coming over, we’re both loners”

“All the more reason to get a nice couch. We watch movies every night in the living room” 

“I’m picking the movie tonight, by the way”

“You already had your chance” you mumble. “Those privileges have been revoked for the rest of the week”

You had to sleep with the lights on after a marathon of all those Insidious movies she likes so much.

But still, you let her choose the movie because it’s nice and there’s no point in fighting with the one person who’s going out of her way to keep you company in your misery. After the movie’s done, she stands up, stretching her arms. 

“I’m calling it a night”

“Ok” you smile, taking over the entire couch and covering yourself with the blanket. Natasha stares. “What?”

“You’ve been sleeping in the living room. Don’t say it’s because of the movie, it’s been happening since you got here, Y/N”

“I… uh” you scratch the back of your neck nervously. “My room feels… lonely. Here I can listen to the sounds of the street. And sometimes when you go to the kitchen I hear your footsteps and feel less… horrible. It’s stupid”

“It’s not” she shakes her head. “We’ll get a new couch tomorrow” 

“Alright”

“Good night, Y/N”

“Night, Nat”

—

People walk past you and you ignore them as you sit, Natasha to your right. 

“Pass the popcorn” you say and she pretends to grab something from the air, handing it over to you. “I’m not feeling it” 

“It’s a nice couch” Natasha protests, trying to be patient. She has a feeling the couch is a metaphor for your love life, but you’re being impossible in your shopping trip.

“It’s not the couch” you insist, pulling her up and walking around the shop. You mumble a number of things as you inspect different furniture. The color isn’t right, it’s itchy, it’s too small.

“We’re getting close, I can feel it” you promise, walking backwards to look at Nat.

“Watch where you’re going…”

Too late, as you trip over and fall on your back. You yelp, landing on a cream colored sofa that feels perfect.

“Are you ok?” Natasha hurries over and you laugh, pulling her towards you by the hand. It’s big enough to fit the both of you when you lie down on your side. “Wow, this is great” 

“Right?” you snuggle next to her, sighing. “We found it, Nat” 

“Yeah, we did” she smiles. “Let’s take it home” 

You celebrate, hugging her until a store clerk comes by and ask if you need help. Natasha blushes as she breaks apart, confirming you’re buying it. Her hand never leaves your back as she speaks to the clerk. 

“We should celebrate” you say as you leave the store, not dwelling too much on why buying furniture makes you so damn happy.

“I’d love to, but I have a mission” Natasha sighs.

“Oh. I understand” 

The universe might have been in danger, but the world -and the bad guys- certainly didn’t stop. The Avengers were still operating, albeit with more freedom than before.

“We’ll do something when I’m back” she promises and you nod. 

You can handle a day alone, right?

The apartment feels empty without her and you can’t help but think about the past few months. You isolated yourself, then Natasha brought you back to the city, where you focused on fixing your apartment. 

Sooner or later, you’d have to face the reality of your situation. 

Wanda wasn’t part of your life or future anymore. Sitting around doing nothing was not an option in the long run.

Which is why you show up at the Compound first thing in the morning, knocking on Steve’s door. 

“Natasha won’t be back until later today” he says as you sit in front of him. 

“I know. I wanted to talk to you about… coming back to the team” 

“We’d love to have you, Y/N. Your skills are incredibly helpful on the field, and we’ve all seen that you’re very loyal. I know how much you risked to protect us as we were on the run” 

“I feel a but coming” you say and Steve laughs.

“I just want to make sure you’re doing it for the right reasons. Because you want to, not because you feel like there’s no other place to go to”

“I think I can be useful, in a way only few people can. I mean, what am I going to do with magnetism manipulation? Work as a barista?”

“Fair enough” he nods, leaning forward. “Welcome back” 

You have the presence of mind to ask him to hold off on telling Natasha, because you want to let her know yourself. It may be silly, but you make dinner and get her favorite wine as you wait for her to be back from the mission.

“What smells so good?” she greets, closing the door behind her. She’s out of her work clothes, wearing jeans, a simple white tee and leather jacket.

“I made chicken alfredo” you say, moving the pasta around as you turn off the stove.

“Smells delicious” she looks over your shoulder, placing her hand on your lower back as she reaches for two plates and wine glasses.

During dinner, you listen to Natasha talk about the mission and how Sam and Bucky can’t get along even after everything they’ve been through. 

“I’m telling Steve to keep his boyfriends under control”

“Speaking of… Steve” you put your fork down, nervous all of the sudden. “I’m rejoining the Avengers”

Natasha chews for a moment, sips from her glass and wipes the corner of her mouth. Once she’s done, she sighs, looking up.

“I’m gonna kill him”

“What? Who?”

“Steve! This is low, even for him. This is why I didn’t want to leave for a mission just yet. I suspected he’d find a way to guilt you into thinking you owe the world something”

“Wait, no. That’s not what happened. Nat, listen to me” you plead, reaching for her hand and forcing her to sit down. “I went to see him this morning. Maybe I’m just… done with moping around and doing nothing. I can’t go like this forever. Plus, we’d get to go on missions together, right? Or maybe not, you’ll get sick of me, we already share an apartment”

Natasha calls for you, the way she says your name full of care and gentleness.

“Is this what you want?”

“Yes” you say, still holding her hand.

“Then I’m happy” she nods, smiling as she raises her glass.

—

Life is gentle, if only because you let yourself be. A routine develops, with training, missions, dinner and movies. Sometimes you go out, sometimes you cook for Natasha. 

The constant is each other’s presence. And whenever she has to be away on a solo mission, you find comfort in the things she leaves behind, like her clothes. She doesn’t question anything the first time she comes back home and finds you napping in the couch, wearing one of her hoodies.

Natasha has also accepted every bouquet, commenting that it will look beautiful in the kitchen table. She’s right, but that’s not why you buy them; it’s because you’re enamored by her smile as she inspects each flower. 

Home takes on a different meaning. It’s not just the apartment you share, it’s the mornings when Natasha comes back from her run with your favorite muffins; the days you find your favorite cookies in a grocery bag and those times when Nat insists on cleaning after eating whatever it is you prepared and she listens to you talk about your day as she washes dishes.

One day, as Natasha comes back from training new recruits, you greet her at the door. Her smile is gentle, but distant. 

“I was wondering if… you’d like to go out tonight?” you ask, sensing this isn’t the best time but you also know you’ll chicken out if you don’t do it now. 

“I’m kinda tired. I’ll probably take a shower and call it a night”

“Oh, yeah” you nod, fidgeting with your hands.

“I’m sorry. It’s been a weird day. My mind’s a mess” Natasha steps forward, reaching for your hand.

“It doesn’t have to be today. What I meant was… would you like to go on a date with me?” you finally look up, trying to decipher her expression.

Natasha smiles and you sigh with relief.

“How about tomorrow?”

“Sounds perfect”

That’s exactly how the evening goes. You’ve shared so many nights together, but there’s something different in the air. It’s electric and it makes your head spin, craving more each time her hand touches yours.

“Next one is on me” she promises when you insist on paying for dinner. You lean against her, until her arm goes around your shoulders.

“So, there’s gonna be a next one?” 

“I’d like that, yes” Natasha nod and you blush, practically hiding in her arms. She laughs, kissing your temple. The walk home is quiet, but not in an uncomfortable way.

Inevitably, your mind goes to your previous relationship. Truth be told, most of the time you spent with Wanda was brief and under difficult circumstances. There were never dates or any semblance of a normal life. There’s no way of knowing if you’d had worked out together. But, for the first time in six months, it doesn’t hurt to think about what you lost.

You can’t imagine your life without Natasha.

“One episode, that’s all” you argue playfully as you go up the stairs, hoping Natasha wants to watch the show you were binging the other day.

“We have an early morning tomorrow” 

“I’ll make it worth your time…” you say, laughing.

“Y/N” a different voice calls from the end of the hallway. You look back, your eyes meeting Wanda’s. Natasha doesn’t seem as surprised.

“Wanda, what are you doing here?”

“I came back a few days ago…” the girl turns to Natasha, upset. “You didn’t tell her I was here”

“I was hoping you’d leave her alone” Natasha admits, avoiding your eyes.

“Is that really the only reason?” Wanda looks intently at the way you’re holding Natasha’s hand.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Natasha steps forward, but you pull her back.

“It’s not worth it, Nat”

“Y/N, I just need five minutes. Alone” Wanda asks, focusing entirely on you. You can tell that Natasha feels defeated as you nod, but still goes inside without another word, the door closing behind her.

“Five minutes” you say, crossing your arms. You miss Natasha’s warmth as soon as she leaves.

“I came back to say I’m sorry. To say that I think I made a mistake”

“You hurt me. I think that was a mistake, yes. Is that all?”

“These past few months I… I have tried to convince myself that what I did was not so bad, or that it was meant to be between Vision and me. But lately, I’ve wondered if it wasn’t only the stone. The connection was so strong between us, but now that the Mind stone is gone…”

“Now you’re bored and coming back to me” 

“It’s not like that” 

“Whatever it is, I’m not interested, Wanda. I’ve moved on, worked on myself. Found someone who makes me happier than I’ve ever been. I’m sorry, truly, that things didn’t turn out the way you wanted. But coming back to me is not an option. That door is closed for good” 

“Of course” she sighs, a tear rolling down her cheek. “I’m sorry for interrupting your date, I’ll leave now”

“Wanda” you call as she walks down the hall. “I really hope you can find happiness again”

With that, you walk into your apartment. 

“Can we talk?” you say, approaching Nat. She smiles sadly.

“Look, I understand. Wanda’s the one. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you she was here… I guess I just wanted to be a little selfish and have one date with you”

You sigh, sitting down next to her.

“She’s gone now. I’m not… whatever it is I felt for her, it’s over now, Nat. I’m sorry if I made you feel insecure” you place your finger under her chin, making her look up. “I like that you sing while you wash the dishes. I know your favorite flowers are tulips. I’d watch twenty horror movies just to see you smile” she chuckles at that, reaching for your hand. “I’d do anything to give you a fraction of the happiness you’ve given me, Natasha”

“It’s hard to believe, that’s all. I’ve never been easy to love” 

“And yet, it’s the only thing that’s kept me going for this long. Your love. Will you let me pay it back?”

“Yes” she nods, her nose rubbing against yours as you lean forward, kissing her gently at first, and then pushing her until she’s laying on the couch. She pulls you closer, eager for more. 

“I did say I’d make it worth your time” 

You laugh against Natasha’s lips, feeling how she’s smiling into the kiss.

“Lucky for us, we have the best couch in all of New York City, and all the time in the world”

“Yes, we do” you confirm, kissing her until you’re both out of breath. “And we have each other”

“That too” Natasha nods, her hand on your cheek.

And you’d have each other, in the home you built.

[nadvs]

　　🐚　⊹　❀　︵　∘　 too familiar ⟢

pairing rafe cameron x kook! female reader

summary you and rafe make up after your first big fight.

this is a blurb in the home before dark universe, inspired by this ask!

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You stare up at Rafe, your expression a mixture of hurt and frustration.

You’d had a nice day. You went out on his boat into the gentle waves. You shared laughs and kisses. But now, you’re at a party, standing opposite each other by the wall, tension thick between you.

You arrived with him about an hour ago and kissed his cheek before telling you were going to find your friends. You spent some time with them and just found him in the crowd again.

When you greeted him with a smile, his eyes flitted away.

“What’s wrong?” you say.

Rafe takes a deep breath, his jaw tensing.

“Nothing,” he lies. You’re the only person in this world who he tries to keep his anger from. He’d rather you never be the target of any of his rage.

Unconvinced, you cross your arms and tilt your head. His cold demeanor is reminding you of all the countless times he brushed you off before you got together. You thought you’d moved past it, but right now, it hurts a bit too much to be fully healed.

“Is it because I went to hang out with my friends?” you ask.

“Nah,” he mumbles carelessly, eyes still off of you.

“Rafe.”

“What?” he says sharply.

“What is it?” you urge.

“We came together,” he snaps, an edge to his tone.

You waver. He hardly ever talks like this with you. You’ve seen him cross with other people plenty of times, but not with you. You’re supposed to be his soft spot, but right now, you feel like just another person who pissed him off.

After almost half a year of being together, you’ve had a few minor arguments. But this is starting to feel like the worst one you’ve had since you started dating.

“We did,” you say, defensive. “Does that mean I can’t hang out with my friends for a little?”

“A little,” he repeats with a scoff. You were with them for nearly an hour. He thought he’d be spending the night with you, but you couldn’t wait to leave his side as soon as you arrived.

Rafe has been needy at times, but it never bothered you. Because he’s never made you feel like you can’t have a life outside of him. He’s never been controlling like this.

“We were together all day,” you say. His face flashes with hurt before anger writes itself into his features again.

“Got it,” Rafe mutters. He takes a long drag from his beer, turning away, acting like you’re not even standing there.

“Really?” you sigh.

He refuses to yell at you, to erupt the way his body always pushes him to. His only other option when he’s this angry is to avoid the problem.

He stays silent and you look up at him incredulously, your chest tightening with rejection and the awful, sinking, familiar feeling of someone who’s supposed to love you trying to have power over you. Trying to make you feel guilty for having friends.

Your ex did this to you all the time. And Rafe knows that.

“I won’t be controlled,” you say, voice shaky.

Rafe’s body flushes with anxiety and he turns to look at you, but you’re already walking away.

He should follow you. He should tell you that that’s not what he was trying to do. But this last minute of conversation stung him so harshly that he wouldn’t even know how to say it.

Your friends ask you why you’re so quiet minutes after you find them again. Eventually, you ask one of them for a ride, since Rafe drove and you’d rather not talk to him right now.

As the night goes on, Rafe’s friends give him shit about how he seems more pissed off than usual. Finally, he’s had enough and has to find you.

He’s searching through the crowds and when he can’t spot you, he pulls out his phone to text you.

You’re just settling into bed when your phone buzzes on your nightstand.

Did you leave

You look at Rafe’s message, chest heavy. You never thought he’d make you feel this way, like you need space from him.

You know he needs the reassurance that you’re alright. He’s nothing if not protective.

You reply: yes. i’m home safe. good night

Soon after, he texts: Can we talk?

You stare at your screen until it goes black.

You need to remind yourself that this is Rafe, who looks at you like you put the stars in the sky. Rafe, who makes you feel like nothing can hurt you every time he holds you.

And even though part of you want to go to sleep so you don’t have to feel the hurt, you relent, because a bigger part of you wants to be on good terms with your boyfriend.

You reply: ok.

Rafe texts you when he’s in front of your gate. You step out into the warm night. It’s nearly one a.m. and your parents are asleep, so you quietly rush out of your house and see his SUV at the end of your driveway.

You realize he went home to swap out his motorcycle he drove to the party, likely so you’d have a place to sit and talk. He does little thoughtful things like this and it already softens the frustration you’re feeling from him.

The soft car light pools over the interior when you open the passenger door, casting shadows over the planes of his face. You settle in the cushioned seat, shutting the door as quietly as you can, and clasp your hands in your lap.

“Hey,” Rafe says. He stares at you, watches the light fade to black over your sorrowful expression.

“Hey.”

It’s awkward. New. Standing on shaky ground together like this. Since you became a couple, you haven’t shared a moment like this.

He turns his key, shutting off the idling engine, stillness between you.

“You think I’d do that?” he finally mumbles. Your eyes start to slowly focus in the dark.

“What?” you ask.

Rafe stares ahead. You study his strong profile in the darkness. His Adam’s apple bobs with his hard swallow.

“Try to control you,” he says.

“It felt like it,” you say. “It was like you were mad at me for having friends. Like I’m not allowed to see them.”

“No,” he mutters. He pinches the bridge of his nose. It hurts that you’d think of him ever doing that to you. “I wouldn’t…”

He grips the bottom of steering wheel, even though he’s not going anywhere.

The pained expression on his face is enough to tell you that he didn’t intend to make you feel like that.

You’re both aware of the harsh implication. You don’t have to say it out loud. You’re comparing him to your ex. He knows it.

“Okay,” you whisper softly. “Okay.”

“Why’d you have to say it like that?” he says with a hint of a whine. “Like spending all day with me was so fucking bad?”

It opened a gash in him, being made to feel like he’s a chore to the person he loves most.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you say.

“I’m sorry, alright?” Rafe says, eyes finally on you. “I know it’s - it sounds stupid, but you’re the only person I can…”

His lips screw up. You know it’s what he does every time he’s trying not to cry.

“The only person I like myself with,” he admits. “I just wanted to hang out with you and the minute we got there…”

He dips his head and you tilt yours, trying to meet his eyes again. Maybe you did leave him abruptly after you arrived at the party. But he didn’t have to be so cold to you.

“I get it,” you say. “Sorry. I wish you just told me then. I can’t take it when you ignore me. It makes me feel like… before.”

Rafe’s brows pinch together. Before. When he avoided you every chance he got, shot down your every attempt at speaking to him. He didn’t think of it that way.

“I’m sorry,” he grumbles. “I’m sorry. Don’t be mad at me. I can’t have you mad at me. I swear, I didn’t… I wasn’t thinking that you can’t have friends.”

You nod. You know he finds solace in you. You’re home to him. You can take that he gets clingy sometimes. It was the fear of him trying to have some authority over you that made you so upset.

When you place your soft palm on the back of his hand, he flips it to squeeze yours. His head is still hanging, but slowly, he leans over the console and kisses your forehead.

He keeps his lips there through a few breaths, then pulls back, shifting to rest his cheek against your temple.

“Don’t be mad at me,” he rasps. “I’m sorry.”

You nod, smelling his aftershave, feeling his warm skin.

“I’m not mad,” you say. You raise your hand to rest it against his cheek, stroking with your thumb. “It’s okay. I understand.”

“Can we just sit here?” Rafe asks. The thought of you getting out of the car and leaving him digs a hole into his chest. He can’t believe how hard it is for him to be away from you. How scared he is of you abandoning him.

“Yes,” you say. “I love spending time with you, okay? Don’t ever think I don’t.”

He nods, his hair brushing against you as it hangs down his forehead. Your words bring warmth to him in a way nothing else can.

You shut your eyes as he shifts to nuzzle into your neck, his breaths hot. You run your hand over the back of his neck with languid strokes, feeling his soft hair on your fingers.

“I love you,” he says, muffled.

“I love you, too,” you say.

Moments like these, you realize just how sad and vulnerable Rafe really is. Beneath his anger is a man who just wants one thing: to be loved. And you know you’ll spend forever giving it to him.

[eclipseberrycake]

The Finer Things (Dandy x Reader)

AN: A request :DDD I'll be honest I've kinda been painting Dandy as the lowkey villain in my MoonBerryCake fics and yk what? He's actually morally gray in my world :) So this is super exciting nfog

☁ A fic? By Roo? That's not MBC? I know. Crazy. I love it though.

☁ So, Dandy is an interesting character because the fandom seems very split on how they view him. For example, one half views him as just this fun toon guy who happens to be the main character and sells you things while the other half thinks he's literally the Devil.

☁...From the bible. /ref

☁ Anyway. If you read my The world behind the Frames or whatever I named it, (No pressure I swear!) Dandy was the first infected in my world.

☁ That's because my personal headcanon is that because he was the first toon made, he was much easier to infect and Patient Zero to a degree. The difference between him and the other twisteds is that he found a way to control. To make the twisted ichor bend to his will.

☁ Hence the tapes. He needs them. He, like Sprout and Teagan, can harness the magical element the tapes wield and redirect them. While the other two use it for healing, he uses it to kind of keep the beast at bay until he deems it necessary to come out.

☁ Which he's sure you've clued into by now.

☁ You're a regular survivalist toon. Not quite remarkable by any means, but you're always the first at his counter and the last to leave it before he goes.

☁ You offer him a smile every time he pops up, even if he knows the things on his table are sub-optimal.

☁ But that's not what strikes Dandy. No.

☁ Without fail, you buy something every single time he's there.

☁ Even if it's something like those silly gumballs, you're handing over the tapes happily even if your prize is quickly discarded. He's sure for a second you know.

☁You know that he's the monster that started this all and are simply trying to appease him. If that's the case, it's working. Even while prepping to pop up through the elevator he finds himself smiling, fluffing the pillows in front of him at the thought of seeing your shiny face.

☁ Or...Alternatively, there's some other reason. Some other reason that has you coming back, over and over again, that Teacup's trinket clipped to your neckline. He wonders if you have it for no other reason than to always have the tapes needed to buy something from him.

☁ He's unsure and can't make heads or tails of it, truly.

☁ So when he pops up, and you're there he waits until the others are grumbling their disappoint to strike up a conversation. He needs to know. What makes you tick. What's your agenda here? Are you hoping to get under his skin? To learn the secrets of this place? Is that it? Or are you simply a naive, terrified toon, all too aware of what happens when he gets...testy? Is this all a method of self-preservation.

☁ You pick up a can of pop, already rooting through your wallet for the needed tapes, even if he can see two other cans of pops on your person, which makes him raise a brow.

☁ "Planning on playing distractor?" He smooths over his facial features with the smooth line, making you almost startle at the question. Your fuzzy cheeks flush as you laugh uncomfortably at the question.

☁ So maybe you are scared of him.

☁ "Oh, no, i could never. I'm not built for that sort of thing, really." You avoid looking at him as you slid the pop into your bag.

☁ "Then why waste the tapes? Who knows what may come up in the future?" He needs to know. Absolutely needs to. It itches under his petals and pulls at his tail, which whips behind him. The question makes you flush further, if possible, you're hands now moving to fiddle in front of you.

☁ "I see how you appreciate the tapes. I'm not really an extractor or distractor nor do I have any remarkable powers." You were able to teleport a few feet in front of you, like that mirror; unlike him however, you didn't need to target a toon, but the distance you went was much, much shorter. He had analyzed this quite extensively. "But seeing your reaction to get the tapes? It's nice to...To help someone at least."

☁ Then you smile. You smile at him like he's worthy of such an action.

☁ It makes him stagger for a second as his time rings up, the elevator pulling him down as he watches you turn to the elevator entrance.

☁ Huh. You did it...for him? Dandicus? What an odd toon you were.

☁ The next time he pops up is an entirely new run. The last one was cut short as the distractor got injured and they had gotten what they needed anyway.

☁ You were on this run as well, making him grin. "If it isn't one of my most loyal customers? How are you?"

☁ "I'm okay. Yourself?" You grab at the bar of chocolate he has laid out, already passing over the tapes before he's holding out a hand.

☁ Before he can even stop himself, he's reaching grabbing an entire box of chocolates and passing it over. "No additional charge." He winks, making your cheeks give that pretty flush once again.

☁ By the time your stammering over both thanks and refusals, he's sinking back beneath the floor and looking at the few tapes in his hand. That box was worth at least 80 tapes and he got maybe twenty.

☁ But in the same vein, it was for you. And it was most likely a one off, so who's to really care anyway.

☁ That's what he tells himself anyway, going about dragging the mystic energy from the tapes to ease the urge to shift.

☁ It was not a one off.

☁ Not by a long shot.

☁ Every time he saw you he just wanted to better you're experience! He couldn't save you the experience entirely, but he could ease the burden on you as much as possible.

☁ When you were injured, sure the others got bandages, but you? A medkit was slipped your way even as you tried refusing it. It could go to one of the healers after all! Or so you would say.

☁ He'd roll his eyes and wave off said healers, Sprout shooting him a glare as he worked on healing one of the distractors (wink wink nudge nudge).

☁ You were far more worthy in Dandy's humble, correct opinion.

☁ When he noticed you were fatigued and exhausted, the others would get cans of pop and maybe a chocolate bar while he had bottles ready for you and boxes of all sorts of candy.

☁ Again, you would try to refuse, exhausting the point that Astro couldn't save your distractor every time but honestly, your distractor should be better prepared at this point anyway.

☁ Bobette wasn't even that scary in his opinon.

☁ He wouldn't charge you anything for them either. Even if it stung along his flesh, whenever asked, he'd shake his head and refuse adamantly.

☁ Only for you to throw them down the chute anyway when he was too far to throw them back. Like the sneaky minx you were.

☁ It made his heart absolutely hum.

☁ It's a shame the others were catching onto this habit of his, truly. Sending him sharp glares every time he pulled a magic item out of wherever he kept them.

☁ The first one to say anything, surprisingly enough, or not based on circumstances, was Vee. She had stomped up to his counter, practically fuming as he gave her a bored look. How dare she interrupt his miniscule time with you?

☁ "Dude, our healers are at their wits end and our distractors on the verge of turning. What the hell?!" She screeched, robotic voice ringing just a bit.

☁ He scoffed at her, even if he kept the smile on his face. "I don't know what you're talking about."

☁ "You can't be serious." Sprout seethed from behind her, his own tapes drained as he cradled the cake roll to his chest. "You've been giving heals to your little partner there this entire time! What about the person who's been protecting them, huh?" His head jutted to where Astro was sitting on the ground, the distractor he's seen practically attached to the hip with any three of them in his lap, heaving and stained black with ichor.

☁ Dandy shrugged. "Better luck next time."

☁ You were quickly stammering an assortment of refusals of being his partner and truly 'the gifts didn't mean anything!', saying you'd be more than happy to share. The thought made Dandy shoot you a sharp look, making you swallow your next words.

☁ "Oh, my dear rose, those toons aren't worthy, I assure you." He waves off their shouts once more, giving you a sacchrine grin. "I do hope to see you soon. Maybe then we can have a talk about you're denseness."

☁ Those were the final words he said as he descending, grinning to himself at the chaos unleashed above.

☁ Oh, you sweet thing. Soon you'd figure it out. Even if your naivety was half your charm.

[moetartart]

:*Trigger Warning for Abuse:** An analysis of the nuanced depiction of abuse dynamics in *Baldur's Gate 3*. Please skip if you’re uncomfortable with this topic or you hate long rants <3

**Cazador at the Head of the Table, and His Forced Family, with Astarion as the Scapegoat**

Cazador is one of the best-written abusers in fiction, and Astarion is one of the best depictions of a non perfect survivor. Showcasing how abusers systematically break down their victims in a way that is thoughtful and non-voyeuristic, and how this may effect the victim after.

Astarion often receives criticism for his behavior. Much if it valid. I don’t seek to excuse his actions or speak about him as if he were a real person, But to break down this amazingly written narrative and how his experiences shape his character and a depiction of a non perfect victim. It's great to see actions having consequences in the story and being the driving force in chatecter development and I think it was handled very respectfully

One of the most compelling aspects of Astarion's story is the depiction of the "scapegoat" abuse tactic. Where a caregiver selects one child as the primary target of ridicule and abuse. Astarion says, "He took a special pleasure in my pain. He said my screams sounded sweetest." Often, the scapegoat is the child who most reminds the abuser of themselves when they were most vulnerable, or has similarities to the abuser of the parent or even someone they witnessed being abused when they were a child. The abuser uses this child to demonstrate the consequences of disobedience, and as a way of bonding the other children against the scapegoat, often by forcing the other children to engage in abuse themselves. The parent will inflict the trauma they were exposed to when they were most vulnerable on their child in a twisted way to re-gain their own power and autonomy buy projecting it onto someone elses. Acting out scenarios where they felt weak but now they are the one with all the power.

Cazador's tactics of infantilization are particularly gut-wrenching. He calls Astarion a "stupid little boy" and forces him to call him "father," undermining his belief in his ability to make adult decisions on his own while simultaneously also forcing him into adult work and physical abuse. A way to break down his self esteem and take away his autonomy. This adds another level to Cazador's twisted, intimate abuse.

It's evident when you ask if Astarion called Cazador "master" in the bedroom, and he reacts negatively. It is also implied in the dialogue, "One final thrust... and I'll be rid of you..." as Astarion stands over Cazador, ready to stab him with a phalic symbol and Cazador in a submissive position.

In a Shadowheart playthrough, we see how Astarion seeks someone to follow because he doesn’t know how to think for himself. Auntie Ethel remarks that he misses his chains, and he admits he doesn't know how to make his own decisions. In Astarion's dream, you learn one of Cazador's rules is that Astarion must stay by his side unless told otherwise. We also see that Cazador regularly dined with Astarion, serving him putrid rats. He says "I have spent two centuries with You, and that should be punishment enough," which is quite an intimate insult. In non of these are the other spawn mentioned. He also mentions his sarcasm and jokes, something you wouldn't really think Cazador would permit. This suggesting an intense, twisted co-dependency. A lot of time spent alone together. As what? His child? His slave? His lover? It's sickening. Cazador seemed to want to fill every potential key roll in Astarions life. This is actually pretty common in adults relationships.

The extent of physical abuse is further revealed when Astarion sees the mad doctor in the House of Healing and remarks, "he's just like Cazador." The narrator says, "If you're late, he will flay you... again," and Astarion states, "Sometimes he would have us submit to torture. Other times he would have us torture ourselves."

So, why does Cazador do all this? Beyond sadistic pleasure and rituals off higher power, I believe it's driven by a fear of abandonment. His goal is to strip Astarion of any autonomy so he would return even if freed. When speaking to Cazador alone, he's convinced Astarion will come back because he cannot think for himself. Cazador wants to be the center of Astarion's life, and truly believes he is. A narcissist needing to see himself reflected in others, he required Astarion by his side to validate his awful existence. If Astarion leaves, Cazador feels he's losing an extension of himself. That Astarion is his and his alone to kill.

I also believe he genuinely wants to play house. That he wants a picture perfect family. We don't know much about Cazador before the game, only that he was from a vampire family. That his niece refused to partake. It's quite clear he felt like he was missing something in his family. We know his master committed acts of cruelty far beyond what he did to his own spawn, impaling him for ten years and draining his friend Infront of him. Surly a year of solitude is like being sent to your bedroom without supper compared to that? By Cazadors logic, he's far kinder than he was ever treated. He's been kinder and more loving than his own family. His children should be grateful that he protected them from what he went through. He believes his children are spoiled and if anything he has been to soft. After all, he gave thim his families birth right far above their station, eternal life. He gave them a family that will never abandon them. What more could they want?

And if course, we as plays see this cycle continues with AA, who says he will be a far kinder master he'd never make his dear lover eat rats. They wouldn't be his child, more a pampered pet. Compared to how Astarion was treated, what more could they want?

And how very true to live that an abuser will preach about how much worse they had things and how lucky their victims are. How soft they must be to complain.

This gives us a clear picture of Astarion at the start: someone with a fragile sense of self, preferring to see others tortured rather than be the one in the chair, and looking for someone to follow. He'll fake a smile to keep them around. While this doesn't excuse his cruelty, it explains it; Astarion is free for less than a day when you meet him. There are no perfect victims, and unlearning brainwashing takes time. Reducing Astarion to "evil" or "good" overlooks the complexity of a character who could become either an abuser or a liberator.

What I appreciate most is that Astarion's past doesn't vanish when Cazador dies; he still carries the scars, but in a positive playthrough, there is hope. Astarion has the chance to do better, starts making his own choices, and sometimes gets it wrong.

Crucially, the abuse is never voyeuristic. It is always shown from the survivor's perspective, focusing on its effects on their lives. It's always clear when a player choice disrespects his growth and autonomy. Cazador and Astarion are never framed to titillate or as a mind of grousome special to the viewer, unlike in shows like *13 Reasons Why* or Ramsey Bolton in *Game of Thrones*. The game handles the topic with a lot of care. Infact the only time we see Cazador in person is when we have the chance to stop him. We never see Astarion subjected to something we can alter in some way.

Also, we do hear of Astarions bravery in trying to defy his master and save people. Unfortunately as in the game and real life, people don't always have a choice. Still, in a good ending Astarion can choose to try and help others who have been hurt and use what he has learned to make real change.

The reasons why Cazador is the way he is are another rant entirely. But while I hate him as a person, I adore him as an antagonist. How can a character be written to be pathetic and terrifying at once?

**TL;DR:** *Baldur's Gate 3* presents a complex, nuanced abuse narrative, executed beautifully. Many people overlook or disregard Astarion as an excellent depiction of survival in my opinion.

[yourlocaltreesimp]

A soul, so familiar

Synopsis: Fae Rulie. He’s swooning and is being equally adorable and dumb about it.

Note: This is my only day off since… like what? mid august? No clue when i’ll actually have a moment to breathe again. So here’s the product of me being the largest rulie simp to walk the earth.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

Link had a problem, and quite a large one at that. You see, what you must understand is that through his many gruelling adventures, holding the entire triforce, and the general shit show that is his life, he has not much learned about his body. Or at least he’s still rather unfamiliar with the bizarre nature of his fae bloodline.

At most it’s lead for some very funny, if not embarrassing, moments. Like the time he’d accidentally dropped 100 rupees for a single jar of honey, being so craved for sugar he’d decided in some odd part of his mind to pay the man back. And of course that time he drank so much mead and woke up in the middle of a forest he never recalled entering.

There was very little of himself that he was aware of. Aside from his own experiences, he had no way to tell what exactly he was capable of.

For the most part, He was ok with it. After all, it was the source of very little discomfort. He’d gained a good control of his magic to harm and to heal accordingly, he keeps an extra emergency jar of honey just in case, and tries his hardest to not accidentally make promises. The line between hylian and fae had blurred to the point where he was simply just himself.

Amidst the crowds of people, he didn’t feel much different. Of course, they don’t get the acute cravings for sugar to where they’d gladly go bankrupt. And sure, they don’t have to worry about uttering deals that literally bargain power over people’s souls. But for the large part, Link was normal.

He could experience life as any other person did.

Well, that was before he fell head over heels for you.

He was a dork. That much was expected by everyone— including himself. There was no hiding the flush that adorned his freckled cheeks and spread all the way to pointed ears. Everything you said and everything you did was target to fluster him. Watching you dance and cackle by firelight had his heart radiating with warmth, his nerves spitting and cracking with the wood. He wished, quietly, longingly, that one day he could envelop you as wholly had the fire did. To caress your skin with such soft, reverent light and only serve to highlight just how striking you were.

His ears would wiggle just slightly at the sound of your laughter, hardly disturbing the soft curls of light brown hair. He’d swoon over the music of your laugh, or your voice when caught on something interesting, not noticing how clearly it showed to anyone willing to look.

He bore his genuine, crooked grin. Not just to you, but to the world. He found joy in every little moment in the usually missed corners of his day, because he could find something that tied back to you.

His life had suddenly been filled with so much colour and so many senses that he’d never had or felt before. And as much as the bubbling feeling scared him, he found himself wanting to protect you. He couldn’t let you, this burning streak of fire that had given so much depth to his one shot at living, be snuffed out.

He wanted so badly to adorn you in spells and wards to keep you safe from others and their prying eyes. The people of his home are not safe, but perhaps with the right words and the right magic he could keep you safe.

He didn’t let himself, he couldn’t.

He’d never whisper a single blessing into your skin if you weren’t the one who’d requested it.

But the feelings persisted. His love for your strengthened without any tending to, as did his desire to protect you, to hide you away and keep you safe and comfortable. And such was his problem: to love you so much in a manner that no hylian could understand.

He doubted even you would understand just how much you’re loved.

Regardless, he’d been an anxious wreck for weeks before he could even begin to come up with the obvious solution to his problem. If it were the fae part of himself that demanded so fervently your company, then perhaps catering to it would ease his yearning.

So he began to leave you gifts. Practical things at first, things he could explain away. Some new tools he’d seen you’d been eyeing, a nicer pack to keep all your belongings together, a fluffier bedroll to provide you good comfort… Some clothes he enchanted lightly to keep you safe.

But that slowly shifted. Of course, he only got more giddy the more you’d don the items he’d gotten. He’d gotten you much more since then, but none of them could compare to the engraved silver ring he’d just gotten.

The band was carved to make two hands holding a heart, an intricately carved crown on top, all set together in a small velvet bag and placed carefully among your items.

He watched happily, swooning over your soft smile as you slipped the ring on and thanked him for it. The kiss on the cheek made him utterly buzz, more than any life spell ever could.

Silver jewellery was the finest gift among the fae. It was their most precious metal and happened to be the most common form to supplement large payments. But this particular ring was notable to the traveller for one particular reason, its use in courtship.

He was over the moon the next few days, unable to even look in your direction without a nervous smile and flushed cheeks. Not only had his dearest love accepted his courtship, but you treat him so softly. His very soul tried to reach out, to cradle and cherish yours when he was too shy to do so.

And for once in the story of his life did he feel the warmth returned.

He could catch similar longing stares and could find trinkets and clothes he doesn’t remember buying.

It was almost burning, the sense of being loved. He wasn’t aware of how something he’d spent so long pining for could be so foreign. Yet at the same time it’s so homey. Being loved by you felt so routine, so familiar to him that he couldn’t find it within himself anymore to be shy, as if in some other lifetime you’d done the same.

As if he’s already bashfully linked pinkies with you or spent sunny afternoons braiding the stems of flowers.

There was a tangible amount of tension between the two of you, the longing hope to be loved as wholly as one felt for the other.

When you finally kissed, your lips were sweeter than any honey and he could convince himself to not let go.

[sepublic]

So in Willow’s debut, it’s established that Abominations is considered as having better career opportunities than Plants. And in hindsight, it makes sense now; Abominations are valued by the coven regime in the way Blight Industries does them, as industrial Abomatons that can be controlled, as a means of military power and not magitech medicine as Alador shows in the epilogue. Belos buys them from Odalia, he practically assimilates Blight Industries.

This is because Abomatons don’t think for themselves, they’re servants that can replace covenscouts in areas that would challenge morality, and they lack the sapience to be targeted. They’re beings Belos can control without having to learn more of the magic he despises to do so; All of this is in contrast to how Darius or Amity use Abominations as a reflection of their own skill, the individual.

We see how the Abomatons aid the coven regime, and esp see through the Day of Unity; The Abomatons can be programmed, and do nothing without orders; They’re not going to become witches and demons in their own right, they’ll maintain those walls and then do so for the end of time.

They don’t need to be targeted for genocide as victims of the draining spell who would be incapacitated, so they can do their job while that happens. They keep witches corralled because the closer to the ritual, the faster the covenbound die. Of course, those who haven’t collapsed might try and stop the spell by removing the coven heads, which would place them within weakening proximity anyhow…

But that paranoia over covenbound who aren’t yet unconscious is justified; The Abomatons’ own creator rendered their role in the Day of Unity and the regime as a whole obsolete, because he had the strength away from the ritual to help the kids reach the skull, which allowed King to free the Collector and undo everything.

Plus, Belos is loathe to the isles; He depletes its natural resources, he wants all life to die and devastating the ecosystem is another way to do so. Hunter suggests growing Palistrom wood and he’s furious at the idea. So of course Plant magic is devalued, because it’s focused on life, on sustainability, with keeping others alive.

It’s the exact opposite of the cold industrialism that will make the Day of Unity happen and leave the land barren afterwards because the Abomatons themselves are barren in that sense, lacking magic and with little to contribute to the ecosystem, if anything. Plant magic is half of nature, the other being Beastkeeping, I wonder if that is also devalued by the regime?

Makes sense the Demon Hunters have to resort to menial city jobs instead of their traditional livelihood, forced to assimilate into an urban society if their environment has been depleted by colonialism. Adds to Darius and Eberwolf being rebels. And with Terra, it shows how much she’s willing to throw her fellow witches under the bus for utopia.

I remember speculating it since I was a Teenage Abomination; Abominations really is STEM, down to being used for military applications. Given TOH’s critique of the American education system, you can see how this metaphor extends when the work of creating a sustainable society and environment is secondary to destroying enemies and establishing supremacy and capital (As established with CEO Odalia’s motives).

Because it’s fun and easy to destroy, rather than do the banal yet meaningful work of actually building and healing and feeding people, thinking of how society can be sustainable. It’s easy to talk about how you can destroy witches zombies in an apocalypse, instead of how to keep a community of survivors alive; All that talk about how dudes bored with their lives dream about being an action hero at the expense of society’s collapse, without understanding what the world really needs is builders and not destroyers, and that they’d be nothing without the people who do this ‘boring’ work, is so very Belos.