#everyone is confused and no one has answers

[faeylayn-blog]

"You humans confuse me. You try so very hard to be as boring as everyone else, and, when some gifted soul is born that has some small degree of uniqueness to it, you beat and break it until it fits into a dull little box that you can understand. Explain this to me, if you please."

The glowing figure across the table illuminated the void gently. It's clear the abyss and the furniture weren't actually here, but the tantalizing way their shadows and the darkness intermingled was almost spellbinding, distracting enough to almost lose the train of thought about how to explain.

“I don’t think any mortal being has found a way to live up to their ideals, but that’s just distracting from the point isn’t it? I could give you what we know about biology and instinct and evolution, but that doesn’t really do more than give points of information, not an explanation.” 

The figure remains silent, perhaps knowing that the thought isn’t complete and there’s more for you to say. It’s easy when you have all the time in the world possibly.

“I think if you asked a hundred different humans why it’s this way you’d get a thousand different answers, so all I can really offer is my explanation. And the truth I see is this, humans are built scared. We spend all our lives being scared of mistakes, of  being left behind, of being alone. Part of that is biological, but I think it’s more the hardness and greed that has been taught from generation to generation, line to line. It might be that we’ll never be rid of it, and it might be that being rid of it simply opens us up to being devastated, but that fear is taught in every interaction, every time a scarce resource needs to be distributed and it’s up to people to decide who is more like me, ie who deserves it.”

With no frame of reference it’s simple to lump humanity together, isn’t it?

“The truth is that everyone deserves it, no one deserves it, no one deserves anything. And even still we are forced to make these value judgments because lives hang in the balance and tribes fulfill so many needs that we cannot give them up. Even if we wanted to, which I guarantee you most do not. So we mold ourselves, we mold each other to fit into the box that is the most like our tribe, from the left eating it’s own to the right threatening anyone too different. We focus on our differences because that makes each of us special and unique, but also terrifying and terrified.”

The table is getting fuzzier, almost like it’s struggling to maintain some form. The aura emanating from the creature opposite might be getting brighter, or it might not; it's hard to tell. It does speak after a moment of silence, “Fear is a powerful motivator, and perhaps it’s only when you can move past that fear that there will be no need for that box.”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps when we move past the need to understand something to not fear it, there won’t be any more boxes at all.”

“You humans confuse me. You try so very hard to be as boring as everybody else, and, when some gifted soul is born that has some small degree of uniqueness to it, you beat and break it until it fits into a dull little box that you can understand. Explain this to me, if you please.”

[froggiewrites]

May I request some Luffy smut? Maybe including some aphrodisiac of some kind or influence from a devil fruit- I don't mind! I'd just love to see your ideas

I am SO sorry this has taken so long, thank you to everyone who's sent in requests for being so patient. Life has been kicking my ass this month so badly I haven't even been able to read any fanfic, let alone write it. Fingers crossed that the end of November is kinder than the beginning!

I'm really excited to have finally finished this request, I'm a big sucker for sex pollen/aphrodisiac stuff so this was really fun for me! Also, this was my first time writing for Luffy, so I hope I did him justice!

Need

Pairing: Luffy x Reader

NSFW

Summary: You find your Captain in dire need of a little help. What kind of friend would you be if you didn't provide? Warnings: Smut, Sex Pollen/Aphrodisiac, Oral Sex (Reader receiving), Vaginal Sex Word Count: 1.8k

You should have known something was wrong when the ship was quiet. The Thousand Sunny is never quiet. There’s always the sound of clashing metal, of excited voices, of a song dancing its way across the deck. But you don’t hear a single noise outside of your door, nor do you see anyone as you pad your way outside. 

You knew that you were docking soon, that your crew would leave to explore the island, but you didn’t expect them to leave without waking you up. You had been on night watch last night, so you certainly needed the rest, but you’re not used to them not at least momentarily waking you to let you know where everyone’s going.

Your surprise and confusion only grows as you hear someone crashing through the brush, and you see your Captain emerge, sprinting precariously toward the ship as though he’s being chased.

“Luffy?”

He doesn’t answer as he continues to rush forward, launching himself up onto the Sunny. Luffy stumbles onto the deck, teetering dangerously towards the railing. Before you can rush to catch him, his back hits the wood, and he lowers himself to the ground, legs splayed out. You can’t even tell if he can see you until he murmurs your name. He’s dripping with sweat, his face red.

You kneel down between his legs, leaning forward to try to get a good look at him. You can’t see any visible injuries, but clearly something is horribly wrong. “Are you okay, Luff?”

“No.” His voice is nothing but a whine, his eyes glassy and unfocused. “Need…something.”

“Something?”

Luffy glances around, pout on his face. “Something. Dunno what.”

You reach out to rest your hand on his forehead, which is burning so hot you almost pull it back in shock. He leans into your touch, giving off a soft hum. “You have a fever. Do you know what happened to you?”

“Nothing happened. We were all exploring, and we split into groups, and then…hm…I ate that fruit Zoro picked.”

Oh god. Zoro’s not exactly a botanist, or a survivalist, and for a single moment you believe with every fiber of your being that your dear friend has accidentally poisoned your captain. “What kind of fruit was it?”

“I dunno. It was sweet. And red.”

You sigh. “That doesn’t narrow it down at all. God, you would think that eating one mystery fruit in your life would be enough for you.”

His indignation beats out his discomfort for just a moment. “The first one went really well.”

You guess you can’t argue with that. “Can you remember anything else about it? We can rule out any devil fruit since you haven’t…exploded.”

“It was warm. And it made me wanna come find you.”

That makes you pause. “It…made you want to find me? Like specifically me?”

“Yeah.”

You have a bad feeling about this. “Do you know why you wanted me?”

He squints in concentration. “To…make it better.”

“How?”

He grabs your hand and places it back on his face. The sound he makes is borderline erotic. “Like this. This helps.”

The warmth against your hand, the moan that escapes your captain, the tent you can see growing in his pants, it all starts painting a very troubling picture. A very tempting one, but troubling nonetheless. “Luffy, are you warm anywhere in particular?”

“My stomach. And lower.” He pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around you and burying his face in your neck. His nose nuzzles against you, and he takes a deep breath, inhaling your scent and sighing. His hands gently massage against your hips, reveling in the feeling of your skin beneath his fingertips. “You’re soft,” he murmurs, lips brushing lightly against you. You clench your thighs involuntarily, a move you hope he doesn’t notice.

“You’re—ahh!” One of his hands moves up to your breast, squeezing your breast through your shirt, and he moans again at your squeak. “You’re not in your right mind, Luffy! I think that fruit was—ah!” His hand slides beneath your shirt, then your bra, and finally he pinches your nipple. 

“Come closer.” His voice is thick as he pulls you onto his lap. “I think this is fixing it. Feels nice.” He jerks his hips, and you can feel his hardness rub against you. You try to keep your moan inside of your mouth, but when you do, he huffs, and ruts into you harder.

“Luffy!”

He grins. “That’s better.” As his hand begins to slide down the front of your pants you finally come to your senses and grab it, stopping him in his tracks. He blinks at you, a little clarity coming back to his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“You–you’re clearly under the influence of something, and I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want–”

“I want it.” The hand slides slowly down further. His voice grows hungrier, more desperate. “I need it.”

With the way he’s looking at you, pupils blown out and cheeks flushed, you believe him.

“Well if you really need it, I’d hate to deprive you, Captain.”

He grins, and before you know it, you’re pinned to the deck, your shirt and bra removed, Luffy’s teeth pressing insistently against your chest. He shoves his hand unceremoniously between your legs, making a small noise of satisfaction against you when you squeal. His fingers slide against your clothed clit, sending a shiver up your spine and slowly building the heat in your gut. He hums quietly, “It’s wet.” He looks up at you. “For me?”

You flush, before nodding quickly. You can’t bring yourself to look at him out of fear you’ll combust. You can see the sweat sliding down the muscles in his arms and chest, his tongue peeking out of his mouth as he pants. He looks even better than you’d ever dreamed, his eyes radiating a hunger than you never expected to be directed at you.

He quickly slides down your pants and underwear in a single motion, and in your surprise you press your thighs together, shielding yourself from him. He practically growls, “Stop that. Wanna taste.”

He pries your thighs apart, diving into you with the same enthusiasm he does everything else. His tongue laps at you with reckless abandon as he sloppily takes everything you’ll give him. His hands pull you impossibly closer, his nose brushing against your clit as his mouth explores. When you moan, he laughs against you, the rumble of it spreading across your sensitive skin and making your thighs tense around his head. You worry you’ll suffocate him, drown him, but he doesn’t seem to mind losing to you.

You can feel the tension building in your body, your legs shaking as you come closer and closer to your peak. Your hands grip the grass beneath you, one second away from ripping it out of the deck entirely. Some part of you is hyper aware of the fact you are out in the open, where anybody could see or hear, but the rest of you is lost in the pleasure of the moment, in the feeling of your Captain’s tongue against you. So you don’t try to stop your back from arching as your climax grows nearer, nor do you make any attempt to hold back your cry as you cum on your Captain’s face.

He pulls away from you, his face dripping, his pupils blown out, and his lips upturned into a dazed smile. You can’t bring yourself to look away as he slowly licks his lips, savoring every drop of you. Without a word, his mouth crashes into yours, and you can taste yourself on his lips. His hands roughly force down his pants, exposing his weeping cock to the cold air. He lets out a borderline whimper of relief against your lips, before pulling back just long enough to whisper, “Get ready.”

“Lu–ah!” He thrusts into you in one smooth stroke as his lips once again insistently press against yours, stealing your breath away. You can feel every inch of him as your body welcomes him in, clenching around his length. He moans into your mouth, the sound deep and wanton. He gives both of you little time to adjust before his hips are rocking, chasing the release he’s been so desperate for. He’s moving so quickly you’re surprised he was patient enough to even wait this long. His hands are borderline bruising on your hips, his teeth clacking against yours as your kiss grows rougher and rougher, as your dear friend and Captain pounds into you with the fervor of an animal in heat. 

You can feel his muscles tense under your fingers as you pull him tighter. His breaths grow more ragged with every moment, and as he finally pulls away from your kiss you get to see the beautiful sight of the dam breaking as Luffy finally cums. His face is filled with a mix of relief, exhaustion, and affection as he gives a final few thrusts, your own climax coming not soon after. He collapses on top of you, and the weight is more comforting than crushing, though it steals your breath away anyway.

“I was right.” His voice is sleepy and slow, and you can’t help but picture the faces of your friends as they find you stripped bare and pinned to the deck below your Captain. Sanji might have a breakdown.

“Right about what?”

“I needed you. You fixed it.” His hand comes to rest on the back of your head affectionately, and he places a comically loud smooch on your forehead.

“So you’re all cured?”

“Ye–” He hums, and you can see an idea take him as his face scrunches up and his eyes shift away. “No. I think we’ll need to do this again.”

You can’t keep the smile out of your voice as you respond. “Oh yeah? How many more times, do you think?”

“I dunno. A lot. It could take a while.”

You laugh. “You know, I think we can do this as many times as it takes.”

He lets out an overjoyed laugh. “Awesome!”

“But first we should get inside before anyone else gets back. I don’t really want them to see me like this.”

He nods, quickly scooping you up and carrying you in the direction of his cabin. Before you can say anything else, you hear the voices of your crew coming closer, and you quietly urge him to rush.

You only get a moment of relief before you hear Zoro’s confused voice.

“Whose clothes are these?”

Your panic is quickly overshadowed by Luffy’s booming laugh rumbling through his chest, spreading the same infectious joy that he always does. The embarrassment is worth it, just to hear such a wonderful sound.

Tag List:  @pandora-writes-one-piece @shy-writer-999 @saturogojosgirl @dreamcastgirl99 @tochillwithamockingjay

[just-aake]

A Feline Connection Part 7

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha has to face the harsh reality that she can’t help everyone.

Masterlist Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, light fluff

Words: 3790

“Whitney Frost, daughter of Byron Frost—a typical Wall Street tycoon,” Tony’s voice echoes through the phone as he reads out the details FRIDAY managed to dig up.

On Natasha’s screen, she can see multiple files and articles pulled up on Tony’s monitors, the holographic images casting a blue glow on his face as he continues.

“There are plenty of articles about her earlier years. Standard socialite magazine garbage—life of a spoiled rich kid, extravagant parties, lavish vacations. You get the idea.”

Natasha lets out a dry scoff at the irony, her lips curling slightly. 

“Coming from the playboy billionaire who once blew up half of his mansion?”

Tony gasps theatrically, placing a hand over his chest in a wounded gesture. 

“Watch it, Romanoff. I’m helping you here.”

Rolling her eyes, Natasha nods. “My bad. Please, continue.”

Tony huffs, turning his attention back to his screens. 

“After her father’s death, she goes dark for a couple of years. No public appearances, no sightings—nothing. Coincidentally, around the same time, reports start cropping up about a new leader rising within one of the East Coast’s major crime families. Descriptions of the leader consistently include one distinct detail: a golden mask, giving them the title–”

“Madame Masque,” Natasha finishes for him, her tone flat.  

“Bingo,” Tony confirms. “Over the years, she’s pulled off some pretty big moves. Arms deals, arson, major heists—she’s dangerous, Nat.”

There’s a shuffle of papers in the background, and Peter’s voice chimes in. 

“I don’t get it, Mr. Stark. If she was already rich, why turn to crime?”

Natasha doesn’t hesitate to answer. 

“It’s not always about money,” she says. “Sometimes it’s just about power and control.” 

A brief silence follows, the weight of her words sinking in. 

Tony’s expression darkens slightly, and even Peter doesn’t offer a rebuttal. They all know Natasha is right. 

People like Whitney thrive on domination, bending others to their will. 

Natasha’s frown deepens, her thoughts drifting back to the night before—the memory of you leaving with Whitney still fresh and raw. She exhales slowly, the sting of hurt in her chest flaring again, though she pushes it down. 

Suddenly, Tony’s voice cuts through the quiet. 

“Okay, I can’t ignore this anymore. What are you doing?” 

Natasha’s brows knit in confusion as she glances at the screen. “What do you mean?”

Tony leans closer to the camera, pointing a finger at her with exaggerated disbelief.

“Why are you bottle-feeding that cat like it’s a baby?”

Natasha pulls Widow closer, cradling the tiny feline protectively against her chest. In her free hand, she holds a small baby bottle filled with water, offering it near the cat’s mouth. 

“She still won’t eat complete meals,” Natasha explains defensively. “At least this way, she’s staying hydrated.” 

Widow lets out a faint, sad meow, turning away from the bottle and burrowing deeper into Natasha’s arm. 

Natasha sighs softly, her expression tinged with disappointment as she looks down at the cat.

Peter’s voice pipes up from off-screen. 

“Miss Romanoff, I could go pick up some different kinds of cat food if you’d like?”

Before Natasha can respond, Tony waves him off. 

“Great idea, kid. Take my card and have at it.”

“Awesome,” Peter replies, his excitement evident as he disappears from view. 

As soon as Peter is gone, Natasha raises an eyebrow at Tony. 

“Was that really a good idea?”

Tony shrugs, leaning back in his chair. “Eh, it’ll be fine.” 

“So, what is it?” Natasha asks knowingly. She can tell Tony got rid of Peter so that he would not hear whatever it is Tony was holding back. 

“Some tough love,” he says bluntly, his relaxed demeanor shifting into something more serious. He leans forward, fixing her with a pointed look. “Look, Nat, if your friend is running with people like Whitney Frost, you might need to face the facts.”

“Which are?” Natasha’s tone grows colder, her jaw tightening.

“She’s a criminal,” Tony states flatly, the words landing like a stone.

Natasha’s frown deepens, the label grating against her as she reflexively clutches Widow a little tighter. “And?” 

Tony sighs, shaking his head as if she’s missing the obvious. 

“You need to start treating her like one.”

Natasha’s eyes narrow. 

“Did you forget I used to be an assassin?” she counters, her voice tinged with sarcasm.

“And now you’re an Avenger,” Tony fires back without missing a beat. “Not everyone’s like you, Nat. Not everyone wants to change.” 

The silence stretches between them, tension simmering as Natasha processes his words.  

Seeing her still hesitant to accept the fact, he adds softly, “You can’t help someone who doesn’t even want it.”

Natasha frowns, her eyes drifting down to the little cat in her arms. She strokes her fur delicately, and Widow returns a faint purr in response, though she still refuses to move much more than that. 

“Send me everything you have on Whitney and Madame Masque,” Natasha says, her determination resolving. 

She’s not going to give up on you so easily.

Tony studies her for a moment, his expression knowing before he sighs and leans back in his chair. 

“Already done.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

A deep sigh escapes Natasha as she rubs her tired eyes, trying to dispel the exhaustion. The hours have stretched into the late night, a glance at the window and then at the clock on her tablet confirming just how much time has passed.

Beside her on the couch, Widow is curled into a small ball, her tiny body seeming to shrink further with every passing moment. 

The meal Natasha had prepared for her earlier sits barely touched—a few nibbles at best.

Though, in her tired mind, Natasha can’t help but let a stray thought creep in: maybe her cooking is bad enough to deter a cat. 

The self-deprecating humor makes her sigh again, a sure sign of just how drained she feels. 

Setting the tablet on the table, Natasha leans back against the armrest of the couch, her head tilting to rest against the cushion. She raises an arm to cover her eyes, allowing herself just a brief reprieve, not planning to sleep but needing the darkness to ease the strain from hours of research. 

For a while, the silence wraps around her like a blanket. 

Natasha focuses on her breathing, the steady rise and fall helping her ground herself. 

Eventually, she debates whether she has it in her to dive back into her work for the night when a sudden movement shifts at her side. 

Tiny paws pad up her torso, and then a soft weight settles against her stomach.

A familiar, distinct meow breaks the quiet—a chirping, happy sound Natasha hasn’t heard from Widow in days. 

She freezes, her body going rigid as suspicion blooms in her chest. Breathing slowly, Natasha tries to maintain her sleeping position so as not to give herself away.

Widow’s sudden shift in mood—it could only mean one thing.

“I know you’re awake,” your voice cuts through the stillness, warm and teasing from just above her.

Realizing she’s caught, Natasha exhales softly with a mix of both relief at your presence but also mild frustration at the fact that you were able to sneak up on her again. 

She removes her arm from her eyes, blinking up to meet your gaze.

You’re leaning casually against the back of the couch, your head tilted and resting atop the cushion, a small smirk on your lips. 

“It’s way too early for you to have fallen asleep,” you tease lightly, your voice carrying that familiar playful lilt. 

Your attention shifts to Widow, who’s now eagerly leaning against the cushion to lick at your outstretched hand. 

“Isn’t that right, Widow?” you coo, your tone softening as you address the little cat.

Widow chirps again, louder this time, in agreement and nuzzles against your hand with obvious affection. 

Natasha can’t help but scoff, shaking her head at the way the two of you seem to operate as a perfect team.

Carefully, she sits up, trying not to disturb Widow perched atop her. 

However, the movement brings her face unintentionally close to yours. She stills as she realizes the proximity, her lips parting slightly as the quip she intended to deliver gets caught in her throat. 

Instead, all that escapes is a soft exhale. 

Your smirk falters, replaced by a small, almost sad smile. Your eyes search hers, lingering as if you can see something more beyond her carefully maintained exterior. 

The intensity of the moment steals Natasha’s breath, the weight of unspoken words hanging between you. 

Breaking the tension, you lift a hand into view, holding up a bag of takeout containers.

“I brought dinner,” you say softly, the warmth in your tone cutting through the charged silence.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha sits cross-legged on the couch, a takeout box resting limply on her lap as her attention drifts away from the half-eaten meal inside. 

Instead, her gaze falls on the two of you. 

You’re seated on the floor on the other side of the coffee table, also cross-legged, with Widow nestled comfortably in your lap. 

The little cat looks more content than she has in days, her tiny paws resting on the edge of the table as she eagerly eats the torn-up pieces of meat you prepared for her. 

A wave of relief washes over Natasha at the sight of Widow eating normally again, her movements lively and natural. It eases the knot of worry that’s been sitting in her chest, but as always, her focus inevitably drifts to you. 

It’s a pull she can’t resist, her gaze lingering on the subtle details in your expression, the quiet ease with which you handle the moment. 

Natasha absently stirs the noodles in her box, her mind turning over the question she’s been holding back since you arrived. It gnaws at her, but finding the right way to ask feels like navigating a minefield.

“How…” she begins, her voice hesitant, but the words falter. 

Natasha bites her lip, uncertain whether she has the right to pry into your life any deeper. 

You glance up at her, catching on to the unfinished question. Setting your takeout container on the table, you tilt your head slightly, offering her an easy opening. 

“How am I here?” you ask knowingly, your voice gentle.

Wordlessly, Natasha nods, grateful but wary of the answer.

“You didn’t look at the USB?” you ask, a touch of curiosity in your tone. 

Natasha shakes her head. 

“I was busy worrying about more pressing matters,” she says, her eyes flicking meaningfully to Widow, who’s still munching happily in your lap. “And anyway, it didn’t seem like she wanted me to have it in the first place.” 

You huff lightly at her words, and with an amused shake of your head, you turn Widow to face you, your fingers gently scratching behind her ears. 

“You were supposed to give it to her,” you chide playfully. 

Widow lets out a small, sassy meow, as if to argue her point, and then wiggles free from your grasp. 

Natasha watches with mild curiosity as the little cat pads over to the side table, where the USB has sat untouched for days. Widow grabs the small device in her mouth and trots back toward Natasha. 

Stopping at her side, Widow drops the USB onto Natasha’s lap with a decisive plop before looking up at her with a smug little chirp, her tail swishing behind her. 

Natasha raises an eyebrow, her lips twitching with the faintest hint of a smile as she picks up the USB. 

“Thank you,” she remarks dryly, her tone soft but teasing.

Widow lets out a pleased meow, circling once before hopping back into your lap, her little body nestling comfortably against you. 

Natasha’s gaze shifts to the USB, her fingers brushing over its surface thoughtfully, before lifting her eyes to meet yours.

“So,” she says, her tone calm but tinged with curiosity, “what exactly am I going to find on here?” 

You glance down at Widow, stroking her head absently as you answer, your voice steady but carrying an undertone of something more. 

“Whitney had a scheduled meeting out of state with some buyers tonight.” 

At the mention of the other woman, Natasha narrows her eyes slightly, reading between the lines. 

“So this is…?”

“Everything you need to finish your original mission,” you reply evenly, meeting her gaze with a serious expression. “The buyers’ identities, their locations, the details of each weapons deal. Enough to track them down and stop the weapons from being used in the wrong hands.” 

Natasha studies you closely, her sharp instinct catching on to the underlying reason for your sudden assistance in her original mission. 

“To shift my attention from Whitney.” 

Your silence at her pointed remark is telling. 

Natasha’s lips press into a thin line, the unspoken truth hanging between you. She tilts her head, her voice firmer now. 

“Why are you protecting her?” 

You flinch slightly at the accusation, your hand pausing mid-stroke on Widow’s fur. After a moment, you let out a sigh, your gaze drifting downward. 

“You know, it wasn’t always like this between us,” you say quietly. 

Natasha stays silent, letting you continue.

“Her dad—her real dad—was the original leader of the organization,” you explain, your voice tinged with something softer, almost nostalgic. “I met her when she was training to take over his position. Or, rather, she found me. I was just a simple thief back then. But not to her.”

You pause, your hand resuming its slow strokes over Widow’s fur as you collect your thoughts. 

“She made me an offer—something I never expected. Another opportunity for my life. To join her. She saw something in me. Something…more.”

The words hang in the air, and Natasha feels a pang of understanding, recalling her own experience from the past. 

“It felt good,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “Having someone look at you like that, like you’re worth something. Like you could be more than you ever thought of yourself.” 

You let out a soft, bitter chuckle. 

“She’s always been good at that. Making you feel special. Like you’re the only one who matters.” 

Natasha’s gaze softens slightly, her arms folding across her chest as she listens. She doesn’t interrupt, sensing the weight behind your words.

“No matter what she did—how far she went—I always found a way to forgive her,” you continue, your tone darkening. “Until I couldn’t anymore.” 

There’s a long pause, the quiet broken only by the faint sounds of Widow’s contented purring. Finally, you lift your gaze to Natasha’s, the vulnerability in your eyes stark, unguarded, and disarming.

“And then I met you,” you say softly, your voice carrying a bittersweet edge. “And for a while, I felt that same thing again. That feeling from the beginning—when it was just lighthearted, fun, and flirty, intoxicating even.”

Natasha’s breath catches, her chest tightening at the quiet admission. The honesty in your words cuts through the usual banter and teasing, leaving her unsure how to respond.

“But I already know how this ends,” you add, your voice softer now, tinged with resignation. “I’ve seen it before. And I can’t…” You trail off, shaking your head slightly, the words left unfinished. 

Natasha watches you closely, her sharp gaze softening despite the weight of your rejection. She leans forward, her voice low but steady in understanding. 

“It’s okay. You don’t owe me anything.” 

Her tone shifts, gaining a quiet intensity and insistence.

“But you don’t need to stay with her either. We can figure out a way to disengage the bomb without you returning to her. A way to keep you both safe.”

Your gaze lowers, regret flickering in your expression. When you finally speak, your voice is heavy with sorrow.

“I have to go back.”

Natasha’s lips part in protest, her brows knitting together in frustration, but before she can speak, you cut her off, your tone firmer now.

“Not because of the bomb,” you clarify. “But because of what I did to her.”

You rise slowly, retrieving the tablet from the table, its screen still displaying the research Tony sent on Whitney. Sensing the shift, Widow hops into Natasha’s lap, purring softly as Natasha strokes her fur, grounding herself.

Sitting down beside her, you scroll through the files until you find what you’re looking for. Wordlessly, you turn the screen toward her. 

Natasha scans the report, her frown deepening with each line. 

It details a failed raid on a Stark Industries facility, ending in a catastrophic explosion. Operatives were killed or gravely injured. Their leader, however, was not discovered among those found.

“I abandoned her that night,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “None of that would have happened if I had stayed.” 

“You don’t know that,” Natasha counters firmly, her gaze snapping to yours, her hand reaching out instinctively to rest atop yours.

A faint, sad smile tugs at your lips at her touch, and you shake your head slightly.

“I appreciate the thought,” you reply, your voice tinged with bittersweet humor, “but we both know that’s not true—especially considering how I’ve managed to sneak past Stark’s defenses twice now without any problems.”

The smirk you add at the end is small, almost fleeting, but it carries a sting of truth that Natasha can’t ignore.

You’re exceptionally skilled. She can’t deny that.

Your fingers brush hers lightly, tracing the bandages covering her knuckles. A contemplative sadness crosses your face.

Then slowly, you lift her hand to your lips, pressing a soft, almost apologetic kiss against her skin before lowering it back onto Widow’s fur.

“I’m not innocent here, Natasha,” you continue resolutely, your voice low, as if the words are for you as much as for her. “I never was.”

Natasha’s jaw tightens at your words, but she doesn’t interrupt as you continue. 

“I owe her a lot,” you admit, your voice heavy with the weight of your past. “She gave me a chance when no one else did. She saw something in me that I couldn’t. And yet…” Your voice falters slightly, but you press on.  

“I still betrayed her in the end.”

Your gaze shifts to Natasha, your eyes meeting hers with a depth of emotion that makes her chest ache. 

“You deserve more than to wait for me to eventually do the same to you,” you say softly. “More than I already have.” 

Natasha’s chest tightens, the quiet ache spreading as she watches you, her gaze taking in every flicker of pain and regret etched across your features.

But this time, it’s not sadness that rises within her—it’s anger. Not at you, but at everything else.

At Whitney, for manipulating you. At the circumstances that have pushed you to this breaking point. And most of all, at the invisible chains of guilt that hold you hostage, preventing you from seeing a way out.

Her hands twitch, the urge to reach for you almost overwhelming. She wants to close the distance between you, to grasp your shoulders and shake you free from the weight of your past, to tell you that this isn’t your only option.

But she hesitates, her fingers curling into fists as she forces herself to stop.

Forcing you to accept her help, no matter how badly she wants to, would make her no different from Whitney. It would just be another form of control, another pressure you don’t deserve.

And Natasha refuses to become that.

Instead, after a long pause, she speaks with quiet determination.

“What will happen to Widow?” 

You look down at the small cat, curled up peacefully in Natasha’s lap, and sigh. 

“I can’t bring her back with me,” you admit, your voice thick with regret. “But I’ll stay with her as long as I can tonight. Make sure she’s okay, and I’ll explain it to her—let her think it’s like last time, when she stayed with you while I was away.” 

You glance at Natasha, searching for her response. 

“If…you’re still willing to take care of her?”

Natasha straightens slightly, her expression softening as a small smirk forms on her lips.

“I promised, didn’t I?”

Your lips twitch into a faint smile at her answer, gratitude flickering in your eyes. 

But Natasha isn’t done. She leans forward, her tone resolute as her gaze locks onto yours.

“You don’t have to keep punishing yourself,” she says, her words deliberate and carefully chosen. “If you feel guilty about what you’ve done, you can always make it right for yourself. You still have that choice.” 

Her words hang in the air, heavy with meaning, an unspoken plea woven into her steady tone. 

Natasha’s expression holds no judgment, only quiet insistence and something deeper—hope.

The silence that follows feels fragile, as if it could shatter at the wrong move. 

Widow shifts slightly in her lap, her tiny body curling closer as her soft purring fills the space between you. 

It’s a faint sound, but comforting nonetheless, grounding you in a moment that feels far too heavy for words.

For a fleeting second, Natasha sees something in your eyes—an almost imperceptible flicker, as if her words might be reaching you. 

But then your gaze drops, breaking the connection, and the moment slips away. 

Without a word, you gently lift Widow from her lap, cradling her with the same care Natasha has come to associate with you, and rise to your feet. 

Natasha sits up a little straighter, her sharp eyes following your movements as you step toward the hallway, your figure outlined by the dim glow of the room.

“Try to get some rest, Miss Black Widow,” you say softly, your tone steady but carrying a subtle finality that roots her in place. You pause just before disappearing from sight, your head turning slightly as if debating whether to say more.

“You, out of everyone, deserve it.” 

The words linger in the air long after you’ve gone into your bedroom, wrapping around Natasha like a quiet echo. 

She stays where she is, her fingers drifting absentmindedly over the fabric of the couch where you’d been sitting just moments ago, as if tracing the memory of you.

The warmth of your presence is gone, replaced by an emptiness that spreads through the room, making it feel colder, quieter. 

Natasha exhales slowly, leaning back against the couch and staring at the space where you had disappeared from her view. 

She knows you meant those words for her, but the ache in her chest tells her they’re something you’ve denied yourself for far too long. 

“So do you,” she whispers into the empty room, her voice barely audible but filled with a longing that she knows you’ll never let yourself hear.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

a/n: Fair warning, I believe there’s only a couple parts left in this series. But don’t quote me on this cause we all know I’ve never been good at predicting the number of chapters left. Again thanks for reading!

If you asked to be tagged and I missed it or if the tag did not work for you, please let me know.

Taglist : @cd-4848, @carifletchersgirl, @skittlebum, @queen-of-chaotic-surprises, @ima-gi--na-tion, @rainix13, @gay4hotmilfs, @imaginexred, @caramelcat123, @2silverchain, @nowthisisliving27, @waltermis, @scarlettbitchx, @self-indulgent-writer, @ashadash0904, @alowint, @littlyamadeus, @so-to-aqui-pelas-fic, @imthenatynat, @transparentflapfarmsludge, @natashasilverfox, @mousetheorist, @btay3115, @samfunko, @wandaromamoff69, @lost-in-the-ice, @ahsatanizgay, @stonemags, @karsonromanoff, @wandanatlov3r, @l1kepeps1cvla, @esposadejoyhuerta, @fxckmiup, @panickedbabygay, @esposadejoyhuerta, @azaleavolkova, @gay4wandanat, @escapereality4music, @caspianalexander007, @henkermen, @xxnaiaxx, @alyssa-bessse, @alianovnasposts

[amoressb]

𐙚 nerds do it best

pairings : nerd bf!jungwon x reader

synopsis : when your bf comes to class with a new look

note : this is sort of a long one !! not too sure how i feel about this one, i couldn’t get to the point honestly but i still hope you enjoy my rambling !!

You made it to your classroom a little earlier than usual but it doesn’t bother you much since you’ll be accompanied by your boyfriend jungwon. You and jungwon usually walk to school together since you guys live in the same neighborhood but different streets. He wasn’t answering your messages or calls which made you a little worried. He’s always the one to do those things but today it was the other way around and he doesn’t answer? weird. There was a possibility that he went to sleep later than usual so thats ultimately what you thought.

After getting your things out for class, you decided to go to the bathroom and stroll a bit before class since again you’re way earlier today. Soon or later you arrive back to your classroom and basically everyone is in there seats talking waiting for class to start in about a minute or two but wheres jungwon? He hasn’t taken his seat next to you, let alone even arrive since the desk and seat were both empty. You decided to send him a message again in hopes he’ll respond.

you : class is starting, where r u???

hello jungwon?

baby?

With no luck and class starting you had to put your phone away and just hope he’ll come in later. While waiting for him you were having a hard time focusing worrying about him but the sound of the classroom door drew you out of your daydream. There he was. Jungwon..but your smile on your face turned into surprise and confusion when you see he now has..BLONDE HAIR?? AND ITS CURLY???

Jungwon apologizes for coming in so late and makes his way to your seat with a cheeky yet embarrassed smile. “hi baby” he quietly giggles putting his stuff down and looks up to you only for you to be completely shocked. “alright class we have nothing left for today so you may talk quietly till your next period” the teacher says to which you immediately turn to jungwon and ask “when did this happen?!” you say as your hand reaches up to his hair and run your finger through it softly. “just last night..thats why i came in to late, i finished at around 2” he says and you notice just how tired he was with how slow he was talking and his eyes seem heavy.

“it looks really good on you tho. makes you even more cute and hot” you say completely mesmerized now that you can fully process it all. His now blond hair, glasses, his cute smile and beautiful eyes. It made you fall more in live with him. “why don’t you lay down and rest for the remainder of the class hm?” you ask him. He just hums and nods as he scoots closer to you and lays his head down on your arm thats on the desk and wraps an arm around your waist not forgetting to take off his glasses so they don’t get damaged.

The whole time he was sleeping, you were running your fingers through his hair softly and rubbing his back softly at times hoping to soothe him and make sure he gets enough sleep to make it through the rest of the day. Surprisingly tho his hair was still super soft even after possible heavy bleaching. You had to ask for his hair routine..

Throughout the rest of the day, you couldn’t take your eyes off of jungwon. Which wasn’t hard since you were together in all your classes AND sat next to each other. “you’re staring yk and you’re gonna miss everything” jungwon says with a cheeky smile as you stare at him with heart eyes. “i can just have your notes” you say in a trance looking at him. He giggles at your state but continues taking notes knowing he will indeed give you his notes.

By the end on the day, you took basically no notes. You were completely focused on one thing and one thing only. Jungwon. The second you guys step foot outside, you immediately jumped on him and gave him a gentle yet tight hug and started peppering his face with kisses. “AHHHH you’re such a pretty boy. ily ily ily!!!!” you say and by now jungwons face was quite red. All the attention you’ve been giving him today was amazing yes. He loved it. But it was too much for his heart to handle, so it was easy for him to fold in front you. “i love you too but can it wait till we’re out of everyone else’s view?” its not that he’s embarrassed about you showing your love to him. It’s the fact that hes so red right now. Thats whats embarrassing.

Too bad for him, that didn’t stop you. You made it all the way home, hand in hand, you going on and one about how his new look was absolutely perfect on him. “stay at my house for a bit?!” you said excitedly knowing he’d say yes and end up sleeping over. Thank goodness it was friday. “when do i ever decline to that invite” he smiles as you lead him into your house all the way to your room.

You both change clothes, him always having clothes left over at your house to the point you bought extra drawers just for him for how often hes over and you changing into one of his sweatshirts and your sweatpants. You decided to stay in your room and watch a movie. Immediately you pull him onto your bed, he got closer and laid on top of you, head in the crook of your neck. “so..what do you truly think of my hair my love” he smiles tiredly sort of knowing what you’re going to say.

“omg i love it. it looks absolutely perfect on you and the glasses too. you look so cute yet so hot. I LOVE IT!!” you ramble about how good his new look is. He smiles into your neck happy you like it. “really? cuz i didn’t think it looked good at all, felt really weird” he voiced out his worries a bit. You this whole time had your fingers running through his hair, moved in closer to him if that was even possible and gave him a kiss on his head. “no i think anything you do, you will always look handsome in my eyes” you smiled into his hair. “i love you jungwon” you move some hair from his face. “i love you too pretty” he leans up a bit to give you a quick kiss on the lips then back to his position falling asleep almost immediately. Blonde jungwon will forever have you weak in the knees.

[consistantly-changing]

[Image descriptions in order: a twitter thread by

@AlexandraErin "Alexandra Erin" which says "The Shirley Exception is a bit of mental sleight of hand that allows people to support a policy they profess to disagree with. It's called the Shirley Exception because... well, I mean, *surely* there must be exceptions, right?

"Let's imagine that in response to suspicions about overbroad use of service animal rules, a city somewhere decides to just swing the pendulum 100% in the other direction. Restaurants, public accommodations, etc., no longer have to recognize any service animals.

"And in the aftermath of the change, existing rules about where animals may and may not go apply full force.]

["A lot of people would back the change because Obviously Some People Take Advantage. (Positing that someone, somewhere is taking advantage is a great way to get the masses on your side in our politics, sadly.)

"Now if you point out the existence of a blind person or an epileptic person who has a service dog for everyday navigation of life or for life-saving purposes, the Good People who just don't want anyone to take advantage will tell you:

"No one's talking about legitimate cases."

"And if you point out that the rule that they're backing would affect what they call "legitimate cases", the response will be:

"But surely there will be an exception."]

["If you back up an anti-abortion activist to the point where they actually have to grapple with a case where the parent would 100% die delivering a 100% non- viable fetus, you'll get the same answers:

"No one is talking about those cases." and "But surely there will be exceptions."

"All of those studies of people in Trump Country USA who were shocked, shocked, that the kind man next door who is a good father and a great neighbor and a real part of the community was dragged away by ICE?

They all thought that surely he'd be an exception.]

["If you point out that the laws/policies they're talking about *don't* offer such exceptions and in some cases explicitly forbid them, if you say "So let's put those exceptions in writing."... well, then you're back to Surely People Will Take Advantage.

"See, the people who are sure that Surely There Will Be Exceptions are very comfortable with the idea of justice being decided on a case-by-case basis. They've always had teachers, bosses, bureaucrats, even traffic cops giving them some slack for reasons of compassion and logic.]

["I mean, if Officer Smalltown von Cul-De- Sac could give them a warning when they were caught with recreational amounts of pot as kids because it was harmless and they Had Futures, then Surely there must be similar exceptions for everyone?

"That post about "I never thought the leopards would eat my face, sobbed woman who voted for Face-Eating Leopards Party" is very true, and it goes farther than personal immunity to a very generalized and broad Just World Fallacy.

"Surely, they think, surely the leopards will know to only eat the *right* faces, the faces that need eating, and leave alone all the faces that don't deserve that.]

["But if we try to lay out rules to protect faces from being eaten by leopards, people will take advantage. Best to keep it simple and count on decency and reason to rule the day.

"So moderate conservatives, what we might call "everyday conservatives", the ones who don't wear MAGA hats or tea party costumes and think that Mr. Trump fella should maybe stay off of Twitter, they will vote for candidates and policies that they don't actually agree with...

"...because in their mind the exact law being prescribed is just a tool in the chest, an option on the table, which they expect to be wielded fairly and judiciously. Surely no one would do anything so unreasonable as actually enforcing it as written! Not when that would be bad!]

["And then they are confused, shocked, and even insulted when people hold them accountable for their support of the monstrous policy.

"I didn't vote for leopards to eat *your* face! I just thought we needed some face-eating leopards generally. Surely you can't blame me for that!"

"The old "Defense of Marriage" laws are another textbook example of this.

Many of them included language that expressly forbade giving similar benefits (like hospital visitation) to same-sex relationships.]

["Yet the people who voted for them, in many cases, wanted it to be known that No One Is Talking About Stopping You From Visiting Your Loved One In The Hospital. And Surely There Will Be An Exception.

"The Shirley Exception is how people who are only mundanely monstrous, moderately monstrous, wind up supporting policies that are completely monstrous.

And when they do, they always want credit for their good intentions towards those they see as deserving, not the outcomes.]

["I'm describing a phenomenon here and I don't have a solution to its existence. While convincing people that laws that don't specify exceptions functionally *don't have them* might work sometimes on (ironically) a case-by-case basis, what is really needed is a broader shift.

"People need to get used to thinking about the harm policies will do as a real part of the policy, not a hypothetical that Reasonable People of Good Will Can Surely Work Around.

"Maybe the tack of saying, "If it was your life on the line, wouldn't you want that to be in writing?" would work. I don't know. Like I said, I don't have a solution here. This is just a thing that happens."]

The Shirley Exception

[phosphostar]

Need a good ending for Mouthwashing, where everyone is safe and sound (is Jimmy dead)

Can I have a Headcannons where Curly has been missing for a while year and he reunites with his s/o he founds out they had their child and he’s meeting his baby for the first time?

If you don’t feel comfortable writing them this feel free to skip it.

YES I CAN SO DO THIS!!!! i might make it a fic tbh. not sure yet.

𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤

cw: medical talk/setting, fem!reader, they have a a daughter. , curly has stubs still, and is still healing from some surgeries.

426

426 days since i last saw him.

the trip was only supposed to be 382 days. why is it taking twice that? i’ve called anya, she answered. swansea, he answered. jimmy, he didn’t answer. and him. i called him, maybe more than a normal person would’ve. to no avail. none of them would tell me what happened, as if they had an oath.

“was i not one of his emergency contacts?” i think out loud in my car as i go to pick up my daughter from my mother’s house. he never found out about her. i was around 3 months when i decided to take a test, and he was already 2 months into his shipment. she’s only 4 months. she’s got his blue eyes, with dirty blonde hair. she looks almost exactly like him, but she got my nose. my mind reels as i think of her party, of what’s for dinner, what laundry i need to do, and him. all of a sudden, im broken out of my trance from a phone call. i pull over as i answer, realizing it’s the local hospital.

“hello? this is cedar crest general hospital with the burn unit. we’re inquiring about ms. (l/n).” i’m confused. burn unit? what? “yes, uhm, that’s me. may i ask why?” “we have your significant other with us, grant curly. as you may know, he was a pilot for the freight space shuttle company pony express. one of their shipments exploded, the tulpar, and he was given the brunt of the impact.” i’m shocked. all i can do is listen as tears silently drop down my cheeks.

“ma’am? hello?” “i’m so sorry, i’m here.” i sniffle as i continue driving, needing to pick up our daughter. “he is ready to have visitors, and would like to know if you can visit?” “i can. of course i can.” im elated. oh my god. he’s going to meet her. oh my god. “perfect. he’s in room 236, in the burn unit. make sure you tell the front office his room and unit, along with name and birthdate. have a wonderful day.”

with that, she hangs up. i finally reach my moms house. while naomi, our daughter, is playing with some toys, i tell my mom everything. she’s shocked. i pick up my daughter and put her in her car seat. i quickly begin to drive over to the hospital, calling anya as quickly as i can. when she picks up, i tell her everything, crying as im elated he’s okay. once i reach the hospital, i hang up. i grab my daughter and walk up to the front desk.

“hi, i’m here to see grant curly? he’s room 236, burn unit. his birthday is 11/09/xxxx.” i hand her my id, and she scans it. she takes a photo of my face, and hands me back my entrance pass and id. i quickly walk to the burn unit, naomi bouncing happily on my hip as i slow down. i reach his room and shush her. i knock and a faint “come in!” is said.

i walk in, and i see a doctor hunched over. she quickly walks over to me and ushers me out of the room. “ms. (l/n), correct?” “yes, that’s me.” i smile nervously, and naomi waves at her. “im dr. hause, taking care of curly. as explained to you over the phone, he was involved in a large crash. luckily, a crew member of his placed him in a cryo pod. he has extensive damage to his skin, from both head damage and the pod’s freezing temperatures. he looks nearly nothing like he did before, and never will. please be patient and compassionate.” my eyes widen, terrified at what this all meant. i nod wordlessly, and she allows me in. his head turns slightly, and my eyes water. “oh.. curly..” i whisper as i hurry over to his bedside. i softly cup his scared face in my hand, careful of his still healing stitches.

“curly..” i whisper, and his stub lifts up slowly to touch my arm. “love…” he answers, and i stifle back a sob, his accent just a little off. he’s still got his blue eyes and curly blonde hair. well, one eye. and some hair. “who’s.. she?” he asks, looking at naomi.

[calicomarie11]

WIP Wednesday

Tommy heard a knock at the door and frowned. He didn’t have any plans tonight. Originally, he and Evan were going to host a game night and after the break up he couldn’t bring himself to make alternate arrangements. His only plans for the night were demolishing a pizza and six-pack while watching whatever sporting event he could find on tv.

He opened the door and watched in confusion as Evan pushed past him, followed by Hen and Eddie. They were carrying cases of beer, bags clinking with bottles and rustling with chips. They flowed into the kitchen, chatting with each other and completely ignoring Tommy’s outraged huff.

He followed them, watching as they started putting the beer in the fridge, Evan pulling out serving bowls for the chips and Eddie being trusted to open the dips.

“What the hell do you think you all are doing?” Tommy spluttered out.

“Setting up for game night,” Evan answered with a cheeky grin.

“I assumed that was canceled, given the fact that we broke up,” Tommy said firmly.

“Except we didn’t break up and we were not about to give up on everyone being off tonight with a day off tomorrow. It took too long to get this scheduled to cancel it,” Evan said as he continued to arrange cheese, meat and crackers on Tommy’s charcuterie board. A board Tommy only had because Evan had brought it over the first time they hosted game night and had never taken it back.

“Buck, you can’t just invade my house like this,” Tommy protested. “I might have had plans.”

The look Evan shot him was equal parts unimpressed and sardonic. “Do you?”

“Well, no. But still…” Tommy trailed off.

“Then go change out of your sweats and make yourself pretty. The rest of the guests will be here any minute.” Evan shooed him out of his kitchen and Tommy went, confused and off balance.

He walked to his bedroom on auto-pilot and grabbed a pair of jeans and a navy Henley from his drawers. He changed and wandered out of his bedroom to the sound of laughter and chatting.

Entering his living room he saw that Lucy and Nick had arrived to complete the party. He was glad that Nick was there, as the person he counted on to be in his corner, and Lucy as his closest co-worker. Even if she did know the 118 from before, they had bonded when she started at Harbor.

Nick was the only one there he could count on to be wholly his friend. They had met when Tommy was newly out and trying to navigate the intense dynamics of the LA gay scene. They’d met through Grindr and Nick had clocked him right away as being new. To his credit, instead of shutting him down, he’d offered to help. In a lot of ways, Tommy had Nick to thank for helping him bridge the gap between knowing who he was and acting on it.

He can see from Nick’s quirked eyebrow that he has questions about the whole situation they’ve landed themselves in and as the only person there who knows the full story from Tommy’s side he really wants to sidebar with him as soon as possible.

Nick, to his credit, heads straight for him, but he is distracted by Evan clapping his hands as soon as he sees Tommy entering the room.

“Alright everyone. Thanks for joining us for game night,” Evan shouted, even though everyone had fallen silent as soon as he clapped. “The first game for tonight is Never Have I Ever.”

There was a mix of groans and cheers from the group.Lucy looked too excited by the announcement and Tommy frowned at her.

“Everyone grab a beer and a shot glass and head into the living room.” Evan moved to the fridge to start distributing beers while the rest of the group picked up the snacks and left to get settled. Tommy waited until they were alone before going up to Evan.

“What are you trying to accomplish here?” Tommy asked, trying to sound stern but mostly sounding bewildered.

Evan looked at him and sighed. “After the Abby bombshell, I realized we had never really talked about our past relationships and experiences and we both might have some misconceptions about where the other is coming from.”

“And you thinking playing Never Have I Ever with our friends is going help with that?”

“Sure. They already know our deep dark secrets and most embarrassing stories and will keep us accountable.” Evan shrugged, like the prospect of admitting to the shit he’d gotten up in the past wasn’t terrifying.

Evan handed Tommy a can of his favorite IPA and grabbed a cider for himself. Shutting the fridge he reached down to circle Tommy’s wrist and tug him into the living room.

Tommy took his usual seat on the couch and Evan settled on the floor on the other side of the coffee table. The rest of the group was distributed around the room.

Evan started talking again. “If it’s been a few years since you played, here are the rules. Each person will give a statement and if you have done the thing, then you take a drink. If you haven’t then you don’t get to drink. For the first round, we’re doing shots, but after that you can choose a shot or a sip.”

Evan filled six shot glasses with tequila and passed them out. “I’ll start. Never have I ever broken up with someone I could actually see a future with.”

Evan’s eyes bored into him after that statement and Tommy had a decision to make. Was he going to be honest going into this game, or was he going to keep hiding things from everyone.

Fuck it. If Evan wanted to play, they would play. He took his shot, only wincing a little as the tequila went down. From the corner of his eye he noticed Nick and Hen also taking their shots. It was nice to know he wasn’t the only one with a habit of blowing up his life.

Lucy chimed in next and from the wicked glance she threw at Even, he knew this one was targeted. “Never have I ever cheated on a partner.”

Once again, Hen took a shot. Evan and Eddie clinked their shot glasses together before throwing them back. Evan turned to glare at Lucy and gestured at her. She just laughed and said “I wasn’t the one cheating, so I don’t have to do shit.”

“Rude,” Evan said, pouting.

Tommy’s eyes darted between Evan and Lucy, his brow furrowed. Lucy laughed as she smacked Evan on the shoulder.

“You never told him about that night at the bar?” she teased.

Evan glanced down at his lap as he muttered “Not my finest moment.”

Nick, who mainly knew Tommy and tangentially knew Lucy from a few nights out at the clubs went next. “Never have I ever had a threesome.”

Lucy was the only one to drink and Evan laughed as she exclaimed “Really! You all are so boring.”

Hen’s entry was “Never have I ever made out with someone in this room,” and Evan, Lucy, Nick and Tommy had to drink. Tommy didn’t miss the way Evan’s eyes darted between him and Nick and then narrowed.

Eddie didn’t seem to understand the game, saying “Never have I ever knocked up my girlfriend,” before throwing back a shot.

Evan groaned. “Dude, you’re supposed to say things that other people have done.”

“But I wanted a shot,” Eddie whined back.

“Fine,” Evan rolled his eyes fondly.

And then it was Tommy’s turn. He’d been mulling over options as he watched his friends drink and joke, wondering how deep he wanted to go, what he really wanted to know about Evan’s past and what he wanted Evan to know about him.

He took a breath and then said “Never have I ever asked someone to move in with me.”

He watched as everyone but him took a shot, Eddie and Evan once again clinking their glasses together.

Evan grabbed the tequila bottle and refilled everyone’s glasses before he spoke up.

“Never have I ever lived with a romantic partner.” Everyone drank to that, and Evan seemed to relax a bit.

The game continued and Tommy lost track of who was asking what as he took his shots.

At one point Eddie grinned at Evan as he said “Never have I ever flirted with someone with the initials TK” and then made Evan take 3 shots.

Nick contributed “Never have I ever hooked up in a public bathroom,” and looked around in surprise when everyone else took a shot. “Eddie, I thought you’d be with me on this.”

Eddie shrugged even though he was blushing. “Shannon and I had a sneaking around phase,” he said.

“Y’all are nasty,” Nick said, throwing himself back in his seat.

When it was Tommy’s turn again he said, “Never have I ever been dumped.”

He sat back and watched as the rest of the room drank. Evan gave him a speculative look as he took his shot.

Then Hen chimed in with “Never have I ever stolen an LAFD vehicle to hook up,” and Evan protested “I didn’t steal the engine, I just borrowed it” before he took his shot.

Tommy took his shot too, and ignoring the looks from Eddie and Hen. “It wasn’t a 118 vehicle,” he clarified.

Lucy groaned and threw a waded up napkin at him. He met Evan’s eyes and quirked his eyebrow and they both started laughing. Which devolved into Eddie, Hen and Lucy throwing chips at the both of them as they ducked their heads.

All in all, it was fun and silly and nothing that Tommy deserved after dumping Evan.

It also left him wondering just how much he had missed or misread about their relationship. It was obvious that they hadn’t ever really talked about their experiences before, both of them trying so hard to be perfect for the other that they let all the buried trauma stay buried.

Until the trauma exploded into Tommy getting scared and pushing Evan away, telling himself it was for the best. Breaking his own heart before Evan could break it for him, like he always did.

He sat back and let the conversation wash over him as the game fizzled out and everyone started trying to one up each other with crazy sex stories. He was pleasantly buzzed and had some stories he could contribute but for now he wanted to soak in the atmosphere.

This was not at all how he envisioned this night going when he woke up alone in his bed. Evan was flushed and laughing, his friends were around him and he felt hope fluttering in his chest. No one had ever come back before.

[nhlclover]

𝐇𝐄𝐘!

madeleine chase x will smith

madeleine sees the tweets about wills comments, her interest piquing as she learns about him (wc; 1.1k)

༉‧₊˚. ꒰ notes! ꒱ just a reminder that jayden is an oc! also a little insight into maddie and how she feels about will

au masterlist

“Hey, have you heard of a Will Smith?” Madeleine asked, leaning over to give Jayden a playful pinch on the arm.

Jayden glanced up from the pair of jeans she was stitching patches of fabric onto, her eyebrows raised in confusion. “Uh, yeah, duh. Men in Black? Fresh Prince?” She wiggled her fingers for dramatic effect like she was casting a spell or something.

Madeleine rolled her eyes, shaking her head with a soft sigh. “No, not the actor. This Will Smith plays hockey.”

Jayden’s nose scrunched as she looked like she was scanning her memories to see if it rang a bell. She glanced back at her sewing as she came up empty. “Hmmm, no clue,” she finally said, her lips curving into a playful grin. “But, I feel like hockey guys are normally hot… is he?”

Madeleine snorted, scrolling through her phone. Her screen was lit up with notifications — tweets, comments, even a few random tags — about Will Smith. A wave of excitement washed over her as she scanned the comments: ‘he’s so in love with her,’ ‘omg please let them be the taylor and travis of the nhl,’ ‘this would be the hottest couple.’ Her heart fluttered. The whole thing felt ridiculous, but there was a part of her that couldn’t stop smiling.

“I mean… yeah,” Madeleine admitted, her voice light. “Pretty attractive. Tall, athletic, you know the type.”

Jayden gave her a knowing smirk, not looking up from her stitches. “Why are you asking about him, though?”

Madeleine bit her lip, unsure of how to phrase it without sounding like she was bragging. She scrolled a little further, her thumb hesitating before she answered. “Apparently… this guy went on a podcast and said he has a crush on me. Now, a bunch of people are freaking out on Twitter about it.”

She tapped over to YouTube, pulling up the podcast that everyone was talking about. After skipping through the intro and some chatter, Madeleine found the moment: the hosts asked Will about his celebrity crush, and without missing a beat, he said her name. A grin spread across his face, and he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck like he was embarrassed. The boyish smile made her stomach flip. There was something about the way he said it, as if he was just a regular guy, not a professional hockey player with fans swooning over him.

“He's kind of… adorable,” Madeleine murmured under her breath, her heart skipping a beat. She glanced over at Jayden, who was still watching her curiously, her fingers resting lightly on the fabric in front of her.

“Adorable?” Jayden echoed with a raised brow, her lips twitching into a teasing smile.

Madeleine shook her head, trying to ignore the warmth spreading across her cheeks. She swiped off the podcast and switched to Instagram, quickly typing in Will Smith’s name. It didn’t take long to find him — there he was, his profile filled with pictures of him on the ice, hanging out with teammates, and, of course, a few casual selfies. In every photo, he looked effortlessly charming, that same confident smile lighting up his face. It made her stomach flutter more than she wanted to admit.

“Okay, he’s definitely hot,” she mumbled, more to herself than to Jayden, but her friend still caught it.

Jayden snickered, her attention drifting back to her sewing. “Told you. Hockey guys. Always.”

Madeleine kept scrolling, her fingers absentmindedly moving from one picture to the next until she landed on something that made her pause. A message. Sitting right at the top of her DMs: ‘hey :)’. She blinked, half expecting it to disappear, but there it was — simple, casual, and from Will himself.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, barely able to contain her excitement. “He DM’ed me.”

Jayden’s needle fell from her hand, her eyes wide as she dropped everything. “No way. What did he say?” Her voice dropped to a dramatic, slightly sarcastic whisper as if this was the most scandalous thing she’d ever heard.

Madeleine rolled her eyes, though her grin was impossible to hide. “Just ‘hey’ with a smiley face.” She held up her phone, showing the message to Jayden, who leaned in for a closer look.

"Wow, clever line." Jayden joked, rolling her eyes. "Y'know, straight guys are actually terrible at picking up girls."

"Okay, focus please?" Madeleine said, drawing her friends attention back to the situation at hand.

“Right... So, are you gonna answer?”

Madeleine stared at the message, her mind racing. Should she? Was this a big deal or just harmless fun?

“I don’t know,” Madeleine admitted, biting her lip. “I mean, it’s kind of surreal, right? A hockey player I’ve never met just says he has a crush on me, and now he’s sliding into my DMs.”

Jayden shrugged, a teasing smile on her lips. “Yeah, but you could at least see where it goes. He’s obviously into you, and worst-case scenario, you don’t vibe, and that’s it. Best case? You become a new athlete-popstar power couple. Just imagine that.”

Madeleine couldn’t help but laugh, but the thought lingered in her mind as she scrolled through Will’s Instagram again. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to respond. After all, he seemed nice, genuine even, and her curiosity was definitely piqued. What harm could a simple reply do?

“What should I even say?” Madeleine asked, her fingers hovering over the keypad.

Jayden thought for a second. “Just say ‘hey’ back.” she shrugged. “It’s simple, and that way you can make him start the conversation.”

She typed, paused, and then erased her message twice before settling on something simple, mirroring his tone.

‘hi!’

With a squeal, Madeleine clicked send, tossing her phone on the table. “Okay, I sent it.”

“Look at you, making the first move!” Jayden said, squeezing her shoulder lightly.

“I mean, technically he made the first move by shooting his shot on a podcast and DM’ing me,” Madeleine commented.

Madeleine leaned back, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. Whether it turned into something or not, it was exciting, and maybe, just maybe, it would lead to something more than just a cute DM.

[froppy-butterflyfan2000]

Hiraya produced one energy sphere then another at ease. There is a smug written in her face. Janaya rolled his eyes towards Hiraya’s boasting attitude. Hiraya and Janaya are taught how to use energy magic by their father in the magic training room of their family home. Janaya is having trouble in making an energy ball.

“You’ll get it. You just need to try harder.” Said Kyle.

Janaya scowled and side eyes at Hiraya. “I am trying. I’m trying harder than anyone else. Do you know how humiliating it is to struggle with something everyone else can just do?”

“You are not, concentrate son.” Said Kyle, ignoring Janaya’s feelings. Janaya frowned. He saw how Nebula demonstrate herself in creating an energy ball (only because she has the power of the Royal Wand) and she did give tips to him. It is always concentration!

Janaya gritting his teeth out of anger. A burning rage inside in belly. He gather all the energy from his surrounding and the mana in his body as much he could. Especially his own anger, converting it into Noir Fuel Spirt. He finally made a energy ball. It is a blue colour that look exactly like a kill ball. Janaya lashes out, throwing it to the wall, sending it flying and disintegrating and splitting the target. Hiraya flinch, seeing another one of her brother’s angry outbursts. Next thing Hiraya and Kyle knew, they watch Janaya fall down to the floor. All Janaya know after he fell, are the the black dots form in his vision and soon he passed out.

“Janaya!” Said Kyle, letting out a gasp. He picks up his son and makes attempts to wake him up. He checks for concussion as well. Kyle realize that his son is not waking up as he check his pulse, still alive but slow due to exhaustion.

~~

Janaya lifts himself up from bed, he rubs his eyes in circle motions. He realizes he is in his room. Janaya see his mother, sitting on a chair, next to her son lying in bed.

“Mom?” Janaya asked. “What happened?” He said confused.

“Your dad says you have a hissy fit during magic practice again.” Janna explained. Janaya nodded.

“Did I unintentionally started a fire again?” He asked another question.

“No.” Janna replied with an answer, relieving Janaya of his anguished thoughts. He did not start fire, that means he is making good progress with his magic.

“After what happened, we can deny it no longer. Me and your father decided that he won’t be your instructor in energy magic. Since you are magically disable in this attribute.” Said Janna.

“But… I wants to be a master wizard likes dad…” he said, looking at his mom in pleading eyes and fear that he disappoints his dad.

Janna felt sympathetic towards her son. “You will be just like him Janaya, just not wielding energy magic.”

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

That was a back then when he was a child, Janaya watch from afar to see Second Summer Campers casting spells in The Arena of Camp Synonymous Island. In his time in Townsville, as a part of his magic journey, he had met many magic users. Some are super heroes. Some as civilians. Some as superheroes. He has seen some who have potential to be master wizards. A few who would become Sorcerer Supreme in Eugenia’s eyes.

“You okay Jan?”, Ethan asked.

“I confirm that I am fine with my emotions,” Janaya replied, maintaining his pace and volume and express openness and gratitude to not get caught up on something that bother him. “I appreciate you asking; thank you.”

Janaya out on a half smile, Ethan respond in silence, looking at Janaya’s half smile.

“Trying to get the cat to catch my tongue?” Said Ethan. “Nice try. I know that you are staring at the campers from afar. They won’t be catching up to us anytime soon. Our time right now is young. Don’t be so negative and hard on yourself.”

“……I don’t know what you are talking about.” Janaya lied.

Ethan Corduroy and Nebula Butterfly-Lucitor (mentioned) belong to @ej-cappy-universe

Eugenia Maximoff (mentioned), Hiraya B.C. Bloodworth-Thomason and Janaya A. Bloodworth-Thomason belong to @froppy-butterflyfan2000 (me)

"You'll get it. You just need to try harder."

"I am trying. I'm trying harder than anyone. Do you know how humiliating it is to struggle with something everyone else can just do?"

[moghedien]

HONESTLY THO can we talk about the angst of Aylin and Isobel’s separation from Isobel’s side of things

Because the angst from Aylin’s side is there and obvious and very very clearly a huge motivation for her actions and yeah it’s great. But Aylin is the immortal. Aylin was always going to be the one that watched Isobel die. They both always knew this, it just happened way before they expected and caused a whole lot of turmoil. And even with all her angst, Aylin is certain that Isobel is dead and not coming back. She saw her body. She probably saw her buried. She probably say many of Ketheric’s vile attempts to bring her back before she was imprisoned. Isobel is dead and not coming back. Losing Isobel and then spending a century being tortured and bound as a means of helping Ketheric maintain profane power and immortality is like…so much and it’s driving her passion and anger when you meet her, but it’s also very obvious that’s what’s going on when you have the context. And when you have the context, it’s clear and it’s obvious to see.

But Isobel’s angst is just so subtle and steeped in uncertainty.

Isobel woke up and it seems like she didn’t even realize she had died. She describes it as nothing and then waking up. She doesn’t know how she died. She doesn’t remember dying at all. She just knows she woke up and it was a 100 years later and everything was very, very different.

Her father had been a Selunite when she died, and now he was gone from Selune to Shar to Myrkul. He went from being a seemingly good man and leader to a mass murdering undead necromancer who seemingly began committing atrocity after atrocity as soon as her tomb was shut. He destroyed her home, her community and everyone in it, and defiled everything she has ever held dear. Apparently for her, even.

She has basically no answers for how any of this happened or what is going on, she just flees and hides until she can create a sanctuary for people who seem more or less to stumble in the dark too.

Like all of that has to be terribly confusing and consuming her mind, but that would only be made worse by her learning about Aylin.

Because Aylin isn’t supposed to die.

Isobel is supposed to be the one that would die one day. Aylin is immortal. They both knew this. Everyone that knew about them knew this. But then suddenly she’s waking up 100 years later in a very different world to her very changed father telling her that Aylin is dead.

It’s impossible, but looking at everything else that seemed to happen while she was “sleeping,” maybe it isn’t. Maybe Aylin is dead. Maybe somehow her immortal demigod mate died.

But maybe not

The only thing telling her that Aylin died is Ketheric who is now very clearly an unreliable source. Maybe he’s right. Maybe he isn’t. She literally has no way to know.

So if Ketheric is lying, then where’s Aylin? Did she somehow become corrupted like everything else she used to love? Is she being held prisoner? Did she just leave and move on once Isobel died? Again, she has little to indicate what could have happened. For all she knows, Aylin is off somewhere being the love of some other cleric’s life. It’s been 100 years after all.

And the worst part is that she has two pieces of evidence on Aylin’s fate that seem to contradict each other. She has her father telling her that Aylin is long dead. Then she has Marcus. Someone that she knew and interacted with before you arrive at Last Light, arriving with a newly acquired set of wings. She doesn’t know where those wings came from, of course. But her father sends a goon to kidnap her with a set of wings they didn’t have even days ago? She would suspect the source. She would know that he was being intentional about that. So where would he have gotten a fresh set of wings if the only angel around was long dead?

While Aylin is no doubt like tragic in this situation, she never ever had reason to hope Isobel was alive. She never suspects it. All of her angst around Isobel is mourning and vengeance.

Isobel on the other hand has no idea what happened to Aylin. Aylin isn’t supposed to be able to die, and yet she’s dead. She’s supposed to be dead, yet Ketheric seems to be getting fresh body parts from her. He seems to be doing that, but it could be lies to trick her. Aylin might be alive and well. Aylin might be dead. Aylin might be evil and corrupted. Aylin might be helping Ketheric for all she knows. Isobel has no way of knowing anything and the worst part is, she can’t go try to figure it out.

If she leaves, everyone in the inn will die. Even if she somehow can leave without innocents dying, she can’t put herself anywhere near Ketheric since he clearly seems willing to hurt her emotionally now. He’ll probably do more the next time he has a chance. Who knows what he would do to make her stay if she went looking for answers there. Who knows what damage he could do if she gets the one thing he wanted.

Literally all Isobel can do is sit at the inn and pray to Selune for answers, or better yet for Aylin.

But Selune doesn’t seem to be providing the answers she wants, and if you play as a Selunite, Isobel hints at how much that is angering her.

[newtonsheffield]

Please you need to give us Ben’s POV of that phone call!!

Ben has never been more confused in his life when Anthony starts becoming an absolute Dad out of nowhere during that phone call.

All of a sudden Anthony’s entire demeanor shifted and sat before him where his stressed pigeon older brother was sitting is a guy that probably wears corduroy trousers and a flat cap and always has bloody peppermints in his pocket.

Ben’s also going over every event from the last three years and making connections that aren’t really there. That’s why Anthony left Simon’s birthday early two years ago! His secret wife probably needed him home to help with the baby! And when he wouldn’t answer Ben’s phone call at 2am three months ago? He was with his secret family! They were probably playing monopoly! It’s all starting to make sense now! Anthony’s been hiding his wife and son away from him. Quite rude actually. Ben’s a (fairly) functional member of society. There’s no need to be embarrassed of him. Does Daphne know and he doesn’t?! Does Colin?! Does Eloise?!

Ben’s actually furious now. Why does everyone know but him?! Why has Daphne been having lunches (probably) with Anthony’s wife Kate?! He actually can’t believe how awful Anthony’s been to him!

“Kate’s not my wife.” Anthony sighed as he set the fresh pints on the table. “I didn’t know Neddy existed until a week ago. You’re the only one other than mum who knows as of right now.”

Ben couldn’t help but feel a little smug. “Take that Daphne.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Tell me about this woman you’re obviously in love with and how great your child together is.”

[naehja]

Beefleaf prompt Au where the real Ming Yi manages to escape from Black Water Manor and returns to Heaven. He's terribly weak but he goes directly to the most importants officials to tell that the one they thought to be the Earth Master since years is actually Black Water.

He Xuan is discovered and must escape from Heaven after have been revealed.

He escaped a trap set by the most experimented gods, who even put Qingxuan in danger in this trap (Shi Wudu was pissed when he realized that his brother was in danger in the trap and that it's Black Water who saved him).

Shi Wudu realizes who is Black Water after a short confrontation between them. He quickly erases all the proofs who could reveals he exchanged the fate of He Xuan with the fate of Qingxuan. Nobody know what he did and Black Water can't proove it. And who would believe a supreme ghost who has pretended to be a god for years?

The Heaven investigate and destroy Black Water manor. He Xuan manages to go away with the funeral urns of his family.

Qingxuan is confused. He didn't live the trauma of Black Wter Arc, the betrayal, the death of his brother by the hands of the one he thought to be his best friend…his heart has not be crushed. But he doesn't understand. He feel a little betrayed because he can't stop wonder if he didn't have been used.

If Black Water is so bad, why did he spend all this time with him? He wasn't forced to be his friend, to share so much things with him so why did he do it? Why did he save him from the trap set by those gods?

Why his brother forbid him to search him for answer.

"He's dangerous Qingxuan"

"He'll kill you if you go to meet him"

"Yes he didn't hurt you before but he has no reason to wear a mask now."

Shi Qingxuan didn't understand "But Ge, he saved me"

Shi Wudu tries to convince him like "It's not because he has some morals that he really cares. Don't forget he pretended to be a god for years, pretened to be someone else. The Real Earth Master could have died in this manor, alone and forgotten by everyone since nobody would have knew his fate. He probably used you to make his cover better."

Qingxuan also realize that the real Ming Yi is very different of Black Water when he was pretending to be him. Somewhere it's relieving him because he think "he was himself with me, right?

Shi Wudu doesn't let him get out of Heaven alone anymore. Which annoy him a lot. like A LOT. But he manages to do it. And arrives on a beach. He doesn't know how contact Black Water. A little part of him is afraid.

But he decides to use their private spiritual array. The one between both of them. That only them could use to speak with each other. They had created him years ago. Ming Yi (or rather Black Water) was annoyed but still used it.

"Ming…Black Water? I want to speak with you, i want to see you. Please? I…we spend so much time together. not everything was a lie, right?"

At his big surprise…Black Water answers.

"Qingxuan?'

He doesn't have the time to say anything that he feel a presence behind him and two arms catching him.

"you brother didn't tell you to not leave Heaven alone?" say a cold voice at his ear. "Didn't he tell you i'm dangerous?" He's tall, taller that when he was Ming Yi. He was sharp teeths. His hands, his skin, are so cold. But his breath burn Qingxuan's skin. He shivers to feel this body against him.

"Yes he forbid me to leave Heaven alone. but i wanted to speak with you"

"ho didn't he tell you WHY i was dangerous for YOU?"

"What do you mean?"

Black Water starts to laugh, bitterly "of course he didn't tell you. He's probably not very proud, and he knows how much you'll be pissed if you knew"

"What….do you mean. What Ge did to you? Why i have something to do with that?"

Black Water bites her earlobe, before purring "why don't you come to my new home so i can explain that to you" He smiles "well it sound just like a proposition, but it's not. You don't have the choice."

"Black Water, what….what do you want?" His cheeks are burning, his heart was beating faster.

"Your brother took my most importants persons of my life. I'll take his most important person from him." He catches Qingxuan's wrist, stopping him to use his fan "I planned to kill him but taking you away of him is a lot better, right?" A laugh "And for answers to your question. Not everything was a lie Qingxuan. That's why i want to keep you."

All the events of TGCF form Xie Lian's third ascension to the final fight happens while Qingxuan is He Xuan's prisonier guest. He Xuan let him do his god's job but under his surveillance, so no god would know where he is. Xie Lian meets him to Ghost City and all the gods lost it when they know. Especially Shi Wudu.

They probably got married shortly near of the end or after.

At a point Shi Wudu has to face the consequence of what he did to He Xuan, except that He Xuan will not kill him.

(prompt free for adoption)

[fierceawakening]

Yes! That’s… less of a clear answer than I feel comfortable with to join a movement or admire its leaders, but it’s something.

I always get the sense in conversations like this that people are much more comfortable than I am just being like “who cares about the edge cases?”

I care about them, both because I’ve *been* the victim of things committed by people too deep in their mental illness for anyone who tried to convince them to stop, and because if we truly believe everyone is a person (which I see as a key tenet of leftist values and part of why I choose them over right wing values in the first place) then we believe some things are too cruel even for people who do horrific things.

So I don’t see it as an issue we can avoid.

Also like I’ve mentioned I work at a homeless shelter. The reason a lot of academically inclined leftists can talk about crime like it’s rare is because they don’t spend time in environments where people who’ve committed crimes are common. I don’t think they’re wrong that most people are basically good, but I think they can be naive about what it takes to convince someone crimes are not a great idea. If someone has a patten of criming, it’s because that’s what they believe works for them. Getting them to stop is about changing their outlook and habits, which is far from impossible but a lot slower and more bumpy than many people who never did much criming want to think.

Also I think a lot of people really don’t have an accurate picture in their heads of serious mental illness. I think very often people have an idea that even very acutely ill people are fairly rational, and you can usually help them deal with their anxiety, give them meds, whatever, and they improve a lot. Again, I don’t think this is fundamentally incorrect; disease isn’t destiny. But having interacted with a lot of people whose illness is particularly intractable, I think that people often have… the same kind of image in their mind, where they don’t really understand how incremental incremental can be.

There are many people, including one client I’m very morose about, who improve a little when treated well, but a little isn’t enough. My moroseness? That client has been banned for fighting, unless she appeals the decision and wins. I don’t *like* the thought that she’s going to lose her place here and that’s likely to only make things worse… but I don’t have the fundamental confidence to say that kicking people out for violence is too cruel, we can make sure it’s fine. Making sure it’s fine is very clearly above my pay grade, and while there are people with more experience and better degrees than me I don’t have the impression they’re less confused.

All of which says to me that deciding we’re ready to stop imprisoning people who do bad things is at the very least premature (and to their credit a lot of abolitionists do agree that prisons will be phased out over time.) I think it’s unrealistic not just in a way that paints a rosy picture of humanity (as a whole? My picture of humanity is also fairly rosy!) but also in a way that fundamentally ill prepares us to really help perpetrators in ways that matter.

[zekescherries]

﹒ LEFT BEHIND! ﹔ ft ＃ zeke yeager ﹐ 🍒 ﹒　　 ׅ 　

CONSPECTUS﹕a living reminder of what he sacrificed, of what he left behind in pursuit of a "saving" opportunity for the eldian people.

PAIRING﹕zeke yeager × female!reader ﹒ post-rumbling

CHAPTER(S)﹕next

CONTENT WARNING﹕pregnancy & childbirth (mentioned) + grieving + single-parenthood + slight ptsd + dead!zeke + dark themes + pet names (zeke calls you peach) (i know not everyone is for pet names) + intentional lowercase & more as the story progresses

"what's your name, little one?"

"veil."

"ah. . ." mrs. annelie's gentle hand reaches out, her slim fingers weaving through the soft waves of veil's blond strands. the girl almost looks like a doll, the older woman can't help but admire her.

"you look just like your father, with those. . ." she falters. "pretty eyes." as the woman speaks veil blinks, her words come as a confusing mishmash of speech to her.

annelie remembers that gaze all too well, first belonging to that man.

this time, it's softer. curious and innocent.

the wooden floorboards creak, announcing your presence before you can verbally. "mrs. . .annelie," a sigh escapes your lips. seeing her familiar face lifts a weight off your shoulders, weight you didn't even know you were holding onto. she steps forward, bringing you into a hug. one that reminds you of your late mother.

"how are you, dear?" she asks.

you chuckle, glancing down at veil who returns your numerous tired look. "i'm doing better." you answer truthfully.

grieving while being a single mother was a challenge, nothing could've prepared you for that.

"oh, sweetheart. . ." mrs. annelie's hand grifts over to your face, cupping your cheek in her hand. "you have people who will support you." you know she's right. "don't be afraid to ask for any help."

you didn't even know you needed that reassurance until now.

"thank you, i really do appreciate everything." you give her a slow nod.

the evening has passed and as you wave mrs. annelie goodbye veil stays by your side. now that you think of it, it's nearing her bedtime.

"ready for a bath, peach?" you ask, the nickname rolling off your tongue.

veil nods, watching you close the door. her clothes are a stained mess from the food she ate earlier. you scoop your little girl up, her hair brushing up against your chin.

stepping over toys and pieces of paper you make it to the bathroom. hopefully the water runs properly this time around, house appliance complications weren't rare; especially with how the world looked.

but for right now, you focus on the little gremlin whom you've grown to adore. even while she was still inside the womb.

.

.

.

his lighter finally flashes, trying to catch a small flame. it's clicking is one of the only sounds in the room. when the cigarette is finally lit he brings it up to his lips.

maybe he should kick this habit, but not now.

his shoulders rise, then they fall and ease into a relaxed position while he exhales a cloud of smoke. "zeke," he turns around, the dim lamp providing you with light. enough light that his hair shines gold in your eyes.

you pat your lap, a gesture that tells him to lay his head in your lap. "making room for me, peach?" zeke crawls across his bed, the mattress dipping at his weight.

you smile, welcoming him with open arms. "of course. . ."

.

.

.

.

the sun's warm ray shines on your back, you adjust, sitting up in your bed only to look over and see veil sleeping next to you. her bed is only a few steps away in the other room yet she finds comfort in sleeping in your bed.

"another one of those dreams. . ." you ponder for a moment, stretching your arms above your head. reoccurring dreams of the past haunt you. reminding you of what used to be.

what you could've still had if things had been different.

". . .mama," veil calls out to you, her voice a bit gruff, laced with tiredness. "i'm right here." you lay a hand on her head, petting her hair and bringing her close.

you feel yourself on the brink of tears, yet you shake the feeling off. not wanting veil to witness her mother in such a state. it's been so long since you've let yourself grieve, veil will never know her father. she'll never experience what it feels like to have her father at her side. your heart breaks for her.

"how about we visit uncle levi?"

veil nods, her head tucked into your shoulder.

"okay, mama."

© zekescherries , 🍒

[thewardenisonthecase]

Moments in Between - Chapter 2

Lucanis Dellamorte x Grey Warden!Rook

Chapter 1

Read on AO3

Chapter Summary: Rook and Lucanis talk about abominations and coffee.

A/N: Trigger warning: Rook has some nightmares that involved her past abuse, and while not explicit, I think it's still good to warn. Also, Lucanis has some suicidal ideation thoughts.

Anywways, slowly weaving my rook's backstory in this.

In her dreams, she was still in the Gallows. 

In the confines of her room, where she was all alone and yet, had no privacy. 

They came at night, always at night, while everyone else slept. Like shadows, they entered her room, holding her down. 

She could only hear her labored breathing, a hand harshly covering her mouth. Other hands, thousands of hands, held her legs and arms, and pulled up the sleeve of her robe, exposing her arm. 

The darkness of the room was soon repelled by the burning, bright light of the fire. She could not see their faces, covered by the heavy metal helmets they wore. Through their visors, she could only see two unblinking white dots where their eyes should be. 

A voice echoed in the room. 

‘Magic is a curse only fire can cleanse.’ 

. 

Rook woke up with her forehead drenched in sweat, her bangs clinging to her face. With shaking hands, she slowly got off the couch she called bed and got dressed, ignoring the throbbing on her arms. 

She preferred when she had nightmares with darkspawn. Those were easier to handle. 

After spending some ten minutes untangling her hair, and putting it up in a ponytail, she made her way outside her room. It was hard to tell the hours in the Lighthouse, as it seemed to always be daylight, but she decided it was time to go visit Lucanis. 

. 

The only known way to separate a demon from its host was to kill the host. 

The abomination. The word felt like poison on his tongue. 

It wasn’t even supposed to be possible. Lucanis was not even a mage and wasn’t that what the Chantry preached? That’s why mages were dangerous, for they were the ones susceptible to possession. 

But with enough blood magic everything was possible. 

The good part of sleeping in the pantry was the lack of mirrors. He wouldn’t have to look at what he became. 

Maybe it was for the best that Caterina was gone. She wouldn't see the mess he was and he wouldn’t have to suffer with her disappointment. 

Lucanis sighed. There was that one voice in the back of his head, the one that didn’t belong to Spite, but to himself. The one that looked at his daggers and told him that there was a way to get rid of the demon. 

It would be better this way, wouldn’t it? Save everyone the trouble and end this suffering. 

The knock on the door brought him back to reality, as he noticed he had spent the last few minutes staring at the wall. He shook his head. 

Maker, he needed some coffee.

“It’s me, Rook.” 

“Come in.” 

The Grey  Warden entered, and by the circles under her eyes, she hadn’t had a good night of sleep either.

“You asked for time.” She said “Is this long enough?” 

Standing up from the bed, he looked up at her, putting his hands on his hips. “Yes, my head’s clearer.” He said, trying to convince himself.  “Though I would kill for a decent cup of coffee.” 

“Have you? For coffee, I mean.” 

“Not today.” 

A silence entered the room, and Rook shifted the weight between her feet, avoiding eye contact. 

He wasn’t surprised. Everyone was always uneasy with abominations. 

“You have questions. Might as well ask them.” 

To his surprise, she asked him about the job, if he was comfortable being volunteered into it, how he had been trapped by the Venatori. 

And though he answered her sincerely, he was confused. He had a demon possessing him. Why were they talking about the spirits within the Lighthouse? 

Lucanis frowned, as she finished telling him of the Caretaker. “You haven’t asked about Spite.” 

 “I haven’t.” 

“Why?” 

“I don’t have anything to ask.” She put it plainly. “You’re an abomination. We hired you to kill an ancient elven god. As long as you’re still human, I don’t plan on shaking you with a knife to get rid of a spiteful demon. Besides, between you and me, I don’t want to take my chances against a master assassin.” 

Lucanis blinked slowly, baffled. “So…you do not care that I am possessed?” 

“I do care, I just…” She sighed. “Look, it’s early and I don’t have time to talk about abominations. But if there’s anything you think we should know about Spite, we could help you with it.” 

He nodded. “He’s stronger when I sleep. So…I try not to do it much.” Lucanis took a deep breath. “No one was in the Ossuary by choice, not even the demons. We both did what we had to, to get out of there.”

He remembered fighting it - the Venatori, the intrusion of this spirit in his body. But worst of all, he remembered accepting the deal. 

“We have all…done things we regret for the sake of survival.” Rook looked at him and then looked away. “It’s part of living, I think.”

Lucanis tilted his head, trying to make sense of this woman. Who in the Maker’s name was this casual about abominations? 

She must have noticed confusion written all over his face, as she soon asked “Although, it is unheard of for a demon to possess a regular person.” 

“I’m skilled with a blade, but I promise you: without Spite, I have the magical talent of a brick.” He said, and Rook gave a small chuckle. “There must be some difference between a demon deceiving their way into a body and being forced into one. Only Zara knows for sure.” 

Rook sighed. After a moment, she said “If you ever have a problem with it…”

“Leave Spite to me.” He told her. “If he’s trapped in this world, he has good reason to fight for it. For now, I must honour our contract.” She nodded. “Gods, magic, politics…hmm. Things are going to get bloody.” 

“They already are.” 

. 

“Why in Andraste’s name are you making coffee at four in the morning?” Rook asked, as soon as she entered the kitchen and found Lucanis awake. 

“It helps me stay awake.” He gave her an amused look as she walked past him and entered the pantry. “Besides, what are you doing here?”

‘I had a nightmare and needed food to comfort myself’ Rook thought to herself, as she crouched to look at the larder. 

In the years since she left the circle, she found that sweets always helped. Not only for the taste, but to also keep her awake and prevent another nightmare. 

Instead, she said “I don’t know, I just woke up with a craving.” She moved the food in the shelves around, looking for something, until she sighed and looked at Lucanis, who was leaning against the doorframe, drinking his coffee. “But what I want isn’t here. Shameful.” 

He raised a brow. “And that would be?” 

“Chocolate. Or caramels. Anything sweet, really.” 

“A visit to the market would be good.” Lucanis took a sip from his cup and then made a face of disgust. “Whoever bought this coffee does not know the love of the Maker.” 

She smirked. “But you’re still drinking it?” 

“It's that or nothing.” 

Rook chuckled, slowly standing up. When she turned around, she once again noticed the bed inside the pantry, and decided she would finally ask about it.  

“You know, we have more comfortable rooms, and basically infinite space. So, why, uh…”

“Why does the trained assassin prefer a quiet, unassuming spot with good choke points?” 

Rook stared at him in silence for a moment. “Remind me to never enter here without knocking first.” 

He smirked. “Besides, I’m closer to the coffee.” 

“You know, you’re starting to sound like you’re addicted to it.” Rook chuckled and walked up to him. “Well, I think I’m gonna head back to my room.” 

She got outside the pantry, but before she reached the door, Lucanis said “Wait. Before you go…would you mind answering a question?”

He sat on the table and she shrugged, pulling a chair across from him. “Sure.” 

At least talking to someone would be better than her plan of just staring at the fish in her room. 

Lucanis looked at his drink before saying “That other day, you acted so…casually about me being an abomination.” He looked at her. “But you’re not rivaini. I can’t help but be confused.” 

“You’d rather I treat you like a monster?” 

Silence entered the room as he did not answer her question. She sighed.

“Look,  I get it. I’m a mage. I grew up in a Circle. Being scared of abominations should be one of my biggest fears.”

“But it isn’t.” 

“No, not anymore.” 

“Why?” 

How could she be scared of abominations, if it had been one who allowed her to escape the circle? Who had led her to where she was now?

Rook hesitated. She was not about to tell a man she saved a few days ago about her whole life story. 

She gulped and replied “Someone, a long time ago, once told me that if one retains their humanity, then they are not truly an abomination.” She looked him in the eyes. “It’s the cruelty and madness that makes one an abomination. But if you remember who you are…” 

Lucanis stared down at his drink, before he looked at her again. “I…thank you, Rook. For clarifying.” 

“Of course.” She stood up from the chair, leaving him to his thoughts. 

. 

If one retains their humanity, then they are not truly an abomination.

The phrase echoed in Lucanis’s head for the following days. The more he thought of it, the more he struggled. Even if Rook believed that, he could still see the worriedness in the eyes of others. Harding had even threatened him, should something happen. He couldn’t blame her for it. 

He shook his head. This was not the time to think about this. Caterina was gone and Zara still lived. Lucanis had much work to do, but at least Illario had intel on her.

But first, it was about time he did some shopping for the Lighthouse. 

“Treviso…I had barely time to look around when we returned from the Ossuary.” He told Rook, as the two walked around the market. He had asked her to come along - in part because it was good to have another person around, in case something went wrong. 

And because Rook was good company. Besides, she had already helped him escape, so it made sense for her to know about Zara. 

“Does it feel any different for you?” She asked. 

“In some ways more than I expected, but then…perhaps it’s me.” 

He hadn’t expected to come back to an occupied Treviso, but the fact that the markets stayed the same brought some comfort. Lucanis walked up to a stand decorated with plants. 

“This one.” He told the shop owner, handing them a coin.” 

“A potted plant?” Rook asked with a lifted brow. 

“For Harding’s garden. Spearmint is supposed to calm bad dreams. It’s good for desserts, too.” 

She nodded, and they continued walking. “So, you and Illario are cousins?” 

“Yes, but we’re both like brothers really. Caterina took us both in…a long time ago.” He turned to her. “What about you? Do you have a family?” 

“It’s…complicated.” She sighed. “But I do have the people I consider family.” 

Lucanis nodded, not wishing to press further. Instead, he stopped at another stand. “Here’s the place. Bellara mentioned a Dalish seafood recipe she wanted to make.” 

As they began walking away, Rook said “The Demon of Vyrantium is grocery shopping for the team?” 

“I told you we needed to go to the market any time soon. I’m killing two birds with one stone.” He smirked. “Besides, have you seen what you all eat? It’s a miracle you didn’t all starve before you hired me.” 

That made Rook laugh as they continued. Then, she said “Back to your cousin…when we met, it didn’t seem like Illario and Caterina were that close.”

“It was hard to be close to her. Even for me…and I was her favorite.” He admitted. From the corner of his eye, he saw Rook opened her mouth to say something, but then chewed her lip, stopping herself. He continued ahead. 

“Here’s a good selection.” Lucanis inspected the fruits, grabbing them, giving small taps to figure which ones were freshest. “Neve only eats fried fish. You’d think a detective would have discovered scurvy by now.” 

“Is that everything on the list?” 

“No, but we don’t have much time left. We should go meet Illario before he gets himself in trouble.” 

She hummed, following him. However, before they reached the meeting location, she stopped by a stand, giving the man a coin and turning towards Lucanis.” 

“You can’t buy something for everyone but yourself.” She handed him a knife. “Here, this is for you.” 

He inspected it and almost gasped “A wyvern-tooth dagger?” He asked, wide eyed. “I loved wyverns as a boy. Caterina would never let me have one of these, though. Thank you.”

Rook smiled. “Of course. Now, we should get going, yeah?” 

. 

“Finally! And you brought Rook.” Illario said as soon as they arrived. 

“Is that a problem?” She asked as she sat down.

He smirked and winked. “Never. You’re the one who brought him back.” He turned to his cousin. “For a moment, I thought you might  leave me here all by my lonesome.”

“Please. You think I’d ever pass up Café Pietra’s coffee?” 

“You see, Rook? My cousin’s all stomach and no heart.” Rook gave him an awkward laugh, not sure how to react.

Lucanis turned to her. “Don’t mind him. Illario cannot appreciate anyone but himself.” Then, he changed the subject. “They serve a specialty roast here: Andoral’s breath. Bitter and sweet, like a kiss goodbye. You should try it.” 

“Bitter’s good. Chocolate is better.” She told him. 

“Sweet tooth?” His cousin asked and she nodded. 

“They have cioccolata calda. It was my favorite drink as a child.” 

Rook raised a brow. “I think you’re shaming me, but I’ll order it if it has chocolate.” 

He chuckled, and the three were suddenly silent. After a moment, Rook asked “So…is there a reason we’re not talking about Illario’s information?” 

“We’re still being spied on.” Lucanis said calmly. 

“No.” Illario told him. “The last one just left. Couldn’t handle your coffee talk.” 

“Oh.” Rook said, now realizing why they had spent such time on the subject. 

“So. You have something?” 

Illario nodded. “The Crows I sent after Zara have picked up her trail. They say she’s gone to Vyrantium.” 

Thinking about Neve, she said “I have a friend who’s very good at finding people.” 

“Caterina was First Talon. This is Crow business. We can handle it.” Illario said harshly, and Rook regretted speaking up, lowering her head. 

“Apparently not. Your lead is no good, cousin.” 

“You have better information?” 

“We’re compromised. There’s no other way Zara could even touch Caterina. You need your eyes here. In Antiva.” 

Rook bit her lip, leaning back in her chair as the two men argued. Better to stay out of it.  

“Zara would never be foolish enough to stay. Not with you out for blood.” 

“Of course she would, if the Crows are protecting her here.”

Illario turned to her. “Rook, reason with him, would you? He’s being paranoid.” 

She frowned,  “You just told me this is Crow business.” 

“I am not being paranoid!” Lucanis intervened. “She came after me. She came after Caterina. She’ll come for you, too.” 

She saw Illario’s jaw clench in the slightest before he took a breath and said “If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll clean house, all right? Leave this to me.” He abruptly stood up and walked away. 

Rook turned in her chair, watching him go. “Is he leaving?” 

“Of course he is. Illario always caves under pressure.” Lucanis sighed. 

She looked at him sympathetically. “We’ll focus on Zara. I’m not letting her get Illario or get away with all this, I promise.” 

“Don’t promise, but thank you.” As soon as he said that, their drinks arrived. He took the coffee cup, swishing it in his hand, before inhaling it and sighing. 

Rook raised a brow and smirked. “You said that blend was ‘bitter and sweet, like a kiss goodbye’. Then how would a first kiss taste?” 

He answered without thinking, as if he had thought about it before. “Honey and lavender cream. Sweet, intriguing…” Lucanis looked at her. “And you? How would you describe it?” 

Rook looked down, cheeks reddening with embarrassment. “Can’t describe something you’ve never had, can you?

His brows raised, surprised. “So, you’ve never…” he left the question hanging in the air and she shook her head. 

“It’s not like they allowed us to spend much time alone with other mages in the Gallows.” 

“What about your time as a warden?” 

She smirked. “Have you ever smelled a warden after they killed darkspawn? It’s a mood killer.” She shook her head. “Besides, it’s not like anyone took an interest in me.” 

His head tilted to the side. “And you didn’t have any interest in someone?” 

“There’s just never been…well.” She looked down again, sighing.  

“In matters of the heart, one must be discerning.” He said, and she wondered if had much experience with relationships. 

Surely, he had more than hers. 

“I guess…when it’s right, you know.” 

Lucanis nodded. “I always thought that to live fully, is to live truly. But even before I was captured, my life was not really my own. So much had been determined for me.” 

“Don’t I know that feeling.” Rook took a sip from her drink. “Still, you must have found time for a little trouble along the way, to know this much about kissing.” He gave her a small laugh, and suddenly feeling emboldened, she added “And…if you didn’t, I’m sure I can find you some now.” 

“We’ll see. You don’t know how much trouble I can handle yet.” He smirked. “How’s your cioccolata calda?” 

“Just sweet enough to intrigue me. Ready to head back to the Lightouse?” 

“I only need to buy one more thing in the market.” 

Rook lifted a brow but nodded. He had said he wasn’t done shopping. After paying the bill, the two returned to the various stands, and Rook waited while Lucanis bought whatever he needed. 

Once he returned, he handed her a small bag. 

“What’s this?” 

“Caramels. For your sweet tooth.” 

She quickly opened the bag and grabbed one, swishing it around in her mouth. “They’re my favorite, I haven’t had one in so long. Thank you.” 

He gave her a small smile. “Now we can return to the Lighthouse.”

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Danny covered his nose with his hand. Where ever he landed smelled absolutely foul, like rotten fruit and burning tires mixed with chem lab.

"Remind me to bring a face mask the next time I explore the Infinite Realms." He muttered, before kicking a soda can down the alley he was in and being repulsed by the squelch sound it made when it came into contact with a very questionable looking puddle, "Better yet, a gas mask." He glanced at the puddle again, "Or I could go full Hazmat." Clockwork had told him this world was full of superheros and villians and to steer clear of it, but once he learned there were aliens in this world he couldn't help himself. Danny had always been weak to his curiosity, but he liked to believe he was cautious, and chose to stay in his Phantom for for added protection.

Turning on his heel he exited onto a deserted street lined on one side by a chain-link fence. The sky above him was filled with clouds so ominous and dark that Danny honestly couldn't tell you if it was night or day, all he knew was that it was going to rain soon and hopefully these awful smells would be drowned out by the downpour.

Danny got his wish only minutes later. Thankfully Phantom was unbothered by the cold and could just bask in the rain as it fell apon him. A lesser known fact about ghosts is that thier clothes are made from thier ectoplasm and are part of thier bodies, much like a second layer of skin, so one would be able to feel things on thier clothes as easily as they would with thier bare skin. The level of sensitivity varies with the type of clothing however. All this to say Danny loved the feeling of the rivulets of rainwater traveling down his ghostly hazmat suit.

He was so preoccupied with enjoying the sensation that he didn't notice anything was wrong until he was jolted forward from the weight of someone landing on his back. The person was quick and precise, taking no time at all to have his wrists pinned behind his back and- weirdly enough- thier teeth digging into the material around his neck.

His parents designed the Hazmat suit Danny was wearing not only to deal with dangerous chemicals, but to fight supernatural foes. The area around the neck was reinforced with the intention of protecting against fatal gunshots and decapitations so naturally someone's jaw wasn't going to be enough to break through to his neck.

Danny let out a laugh as the person kept chewing on his neck like a confused puppy. Oh, Danny thought, they've gone feral. It was odd for someone to go feral but it could occur when a person has gone through something traumatic recently or through extreme stress. It made sense since the person ridding piggy back on him was dressed like a superhero. Danny wondered if that was why the person didn't have a scent. Danny learns facepalmed when he remembered that scentblockers existed and not everyone's scent dramatically changed whenever they went out as a hero. The scent change was probably one of the few things that have kept him alive up to this point to be honest.

"So, I guess you're not going to tell me why you're chewing on my neck like the worlds most pathetic vampire, are you?" No one deserves that title more than the fruitloop to be honest. He made a mental note to use that one against Vlad the next time he saw him.

Chewy whined at this, seeming to slump a bit from the apparent failure to bite him. What was that about? Was this actually a vampire? How would a vampire even react to Dannys ecto-blood combo meal anyway? Would it be like food poisoning? Or would it taste amazing from one undead to another. "I'm not exactly human, are you sure you wanna bite me? I might not taste so good." Danny warned, but the moment he mentioned letting the person bite him they were eager again.

Danny chuckled and unzipped the material only a bit before it was loose enough to move out of the way. The vampires bite came with a sharp pain like he expected but there was no suction. No drinking of blood. Just some weirdo biting Danny on the neck. Huh.

Danny hoped he didn't get rabies from this.

He must have accidentally said that out loud as there was a small laugh from the rooftops above them. There stood another person in a superhero outfit with some really tall dude dressed as a giant bat, and that was when Danny decided to bail. It was one thing to let a maybe vampire bite you in a random street in the middle of the night but more of them? And ones a big scary furry? Hard pass.

Phantom did as Phantoms do and went invisible and intangible, escaping from Biteys jaws and startling the heros. He ignored the distressed whine Munchy let out after loosing their spookyest chew toy and quickly rubbed the scent gland near dannys jaw on the top of thier head as an act of comfort before bolting.

----

Danny poked at the bite mark on his neck. Screw rabies, he better not get turned into a werewolf. He didn't need that on top of his ghostly crap. Sam seemed fascinated by the mark, after all, it wasn't every day that Danny got a scar, especially one so obvious. Most injuries heal quickly and leave no trace of him ever being injured in the first place which helped a lot in keeping his secret identity.

Luckily Danny hadn't needed to lie to mom and dad. He truthfully told them about some wierdo jumping off of a nearby rooftop and plunging thier teeth into his neck and that two other people had tried to corner him during this. He assured his mom that he had gotten away quickly but was a little shaken by it and his dad praised him for being brave and managing to escape.

That was nice. But he still had to figure out what was up with this bite...and why he felt so compelled to go back to that city.

Back to that hero.

-----

Aka an A/B/O au where in Danny's universe all the Alphas are extinct and the betas followed soon after and the DC universe all the Omegas went extinct and betas followed after . Not like a "they finally went extinct in the 1700s after centuries of thier numbers dwindling" thing and became a myth/fairytale (tho I like that too) but a "this might be the missing link between cave men and modern humans" kinda thing.

Its up to you which bat bit Danny and exactly what that means. I love abo aus without smut cause there's so much potential for chaos and I am very much ace.