#of what i used to be able to do because i am spiralling down and continuing to get worse is so.

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

one thing abt being disabled/chronically ill that some people don’t get is that sometimes body maintenance that ensures you have the absolute minimum amount of function can also be something that takes away a lot of control and autonomy. you can argue till the cows come home that making those decisions to try and help yourself (or realistically to try to make sure things aren’t worse than they already are) is something that exhibits control and autonomy and stuff, but they can be so limiting in practice because they’re things that take up so much time but have to be done to do anything else

[depresseddepot]

I'm trying to find ways to slowly ease my way into taking walks (debilitating social anxiety) so I was going to download pokemon go again but my phone is too old :(

[wild-at-mind]

No offence, but ffs the general strike for Palestine thing being circulated for action this week is literally coming with caveats saying 'if you can't do anything else just don't post on social media about anything but Palestine'.....????????

[dumbbitchgalore]

When john is home for a few weeks and has to go on a mission again he has a morning wood for the first few days of the mission because he got used to having his love next to him when he wakes up. His team totally found out and won't stop joking about it.

Back when he slept alone, missions were cold, routine, and numb.

But now that he's had a few solid weeks at home with you waking up to your warm body, your sleepy kisses, your thighs brushing against his under the sheets. His body has learned what comfort feels like.

And the second he’s away again? It rebels.

By the third morning in the field, he wakes up in his tent with a stubborn, insistent hard-on that won’t go down no matter how much he curses under his breath.

Gaz, unfortunately, catches him ducking behind the gear truck with his fists clenched and his jaw tight.

"Problem, Captain?" It spirals fast. Soap finds out and can’t stop grinning about it.

"She’s got you properly domesticated, mate. Can’t even go a day without waking up tentin’ your kit like a bloody teenager."

Price, mortified but too proud to argue, just mutters, "Least I’ve got someone worth missing."

The jokes don’t stop. But secretly, he doesn’t mind. Because every annoying boner is a reminder of how good he has it waiting back home.

I am a firm believer that John cums in his pants the first night that he is able to talk to you on the phone and it's not like it was a sexual call. All you had to do is say 'hi sweetie' and he's busting a nut no matter the setting.

[wlwsoccerfics]

Self doubt (LionessesXDeafReader)

Warning: deaf reader

A/N : when i Put something in ' ' it means it's signed

Summary: you get called up for your first England Camp and people are not taking it well. the fact that you are Keira Walsh's Baby sister doesn't make it any either. And you start doubting If you even should be there.

You sit on a bean bag in the gaming/TV room at England Camp. It was just the first day. The comments you have read so far were mostly great and supportive under the Team list of who made the cut. But then you read comments about yourself. Lots of mean ones including:

'how is she supposed to win us anything? she can't even hear instructions!'

'she is only on the team cause of Keira. she must have put a good word in for y/n.'

'her on the Team feels like a charity case!'

There were lots more of those comments. Which only made your self doubt become worse. Even though if it was just a first full day everyone had noticed that you were acting distant. Especially towards your sister & on top of that Grace. Your girlfriend. You just wanted to focus on football. Deep down you knew you were able to play at this level. You were one of the Star Players at Arsenal. Yes you and your sister played for two different teams. So did you and your girlfriend. But your best friend Alessia was playing for Arsenal with you. While your girlfriend Grace was playing with your other best friend Tooney. If you weren't any good Sarina wouldn't have called you up to play for the lionesses. But still theres a part of you hurt by people thinking just because you were deaf that you couldn't do your job. In the last five games for Arsenal you scored 7 Goals. That alone was saying alot. Yet there were still people wanting to bring you down.

'you are avoiding me!' you see your girlfriend sign, she showed up out of nowhere so you put your phone away.

'i am not!' you look at her and frown.

'you are! you are also avoiding Keira, Less & Tooney. And basically everyone!' she was clearly concerned.

'grace i am fine. just let it go.'

The fact that you didn't use a cute pet name for her was confirmation enough that something was totally not right.

Less and Tooney were also in the room, looking over at the two of you. they knew something was up as soon as you said you didn't want to play cards with them. And the discussion you had with Grace only confirmed that for them as well.

At the same time with Keira, Leah and Lucy...

"Keira, i think i know why your sister is keeping to herself." Lucy told her. Handing her Phone over to her. Showing the comments under the Squad post that are related to you.

"that's nasty!" Leah said, after Keira wordlessly showed them to her.

"i hope she knows that this Is crap. Nothing about this Is true!" Keira stated.

"well you should try and talk to her about that." Lucy replied.

'yeah either you do it or i will. If we wait for too long she is gonna Spiral!" Your England Captain and Arsenal teammate said.

"i will talk to her, don't worry about it." Keira let them know and then went to look for you.

She found you and Grace still arguing. Looking over at Less & Tooney.

"what is this about?" Keira asked your two best friends.

"y/n is claiming how fine things are and that she is not avoiding anyone! Even though we all know she is!" Tooney stated.

"they going back and forth now for almost 20 minutes!" Alessia explained.

"i want to know why she is avoiding us." Tooney stated and Keira grabbed her own Phone to show her and Lessi.

"Lucy thinks this might be the reason and honestly i think so too!" Keira let them know.

"oh my god. This Is terrible. And not true! She deserves to be here!" Alessia stated.

"which is why i will talk to her now." Your sister answered.

The Talk with Grace has gotten to a point where you both have gotten frustrated with one another that you stood up and wanted to race past your sister but Keira quickly grabbed your hand.

'stay. We need to Talk.'

'no we don't!'

'you do need to start letting us in on what's happening.' Alessia looked at you. Worry written across her face.

'fine. what do you want to know?'

'why you are acting this way. You avoiding us is not normal.'

'i don't belong here.'

'so it's about the comments!' Keira let out a soft sigh. Grace now standing next to you.

'what comments?' she wanted to know. Keira showing her the comments. Grace looked mad now.

'those comments are not true! you are amazing and you deserve this place in the Team!' Grace let you know.

'deep down i know. but those comments still hurt. i just want to show them how wrong they are!'

'then let's do that!' Tooney smiled at you.

The team put out a Statement that there is no place for bullying in any form. And that people who are disrespectful towards the players, especially the Younger ones Like you (you were only 22 years old) shouldn't watch the games.

You could Show them what you are made of during a Game against Portugal were you scored two Goals during your debut which sure did shut up the haters. Getting praised by your teammates and Sarina.

You couldn't hear but your eyes were working perfectly fine.

[roosterr]

white flag ✹ proglogue

note: can't believe i'm actually writing for ghost, yes he was the reason i got into cod, but i havent thought about him since like january lol. has this trope already been done? yes. am i doing it anyway? also yes.

pairing: ghost x gn!reader

wc: 2.2k

no use of y/n readers callsign is 'stingray'

summary: if there's one constant in your life, it's that ghost doesn't like you, so when your house burns down and you have no choice but to move in with him, it feels like your life is on a steady downhill spiral.

warnings: slowburn, some angst, your house burns down, ghost is mean, sort of enemies to friends to lovers

ao3

【next】

it's been almost a year since you'd joined the taskforce. nearly twelve months of gruelling hard work, and not for a single second had lieutenant ghost treated you with a shred of familiarity. at first, you thought he'd get over it, that he'd get past his obvious trust issues and warm up to you eventually, but you quickly gave up on that idea.

clearly, you'd been too optimistic.

which was unfortunate, considering how much you'd come to care for the prickly bastard, no matter how dismissive he was of you. it started slow; when you were first recruited, you held a great deal of respect for him because of his reputation, and you'd naively even looked forward to working with him. when you discovered his less than friendly demeanour, to say you were disheartened would be an understatement. he was withdrawn and stoic, never sparing you so much as a passing glance and a barked order,  whether you were in the field or not.

the other sergeants had assured you that he wasn't as cold as he comes across; soap and gaz both told you how he'd acted the same towards them when they first met – he was a lone wolf, not used to having to look out for teammates.

the more time you spent on missions with him, the more you saw of the person beneath the hard exterior. you saw how he seemed to know everyone's strengths and weaknesses, things you never would've picked up on. he always made sure the team had eaten, disguised as a gruff order to stay on your game. when he got angry, it would be because someone put themselves in danger, not because they screwed up the mission. you saw someone who'd been through hell and come out the other side swinging.

before, you'd respected ghost as a soldier and your superior, but now, after spending so much time with him, your perspective of him has changed. he intrigued you; he's quiet, introverted but not shy, more observant than you could imagine, and so closely guarded you wondered if he'd ever be able to open up. you'd only heard whispers of the things he'd been through in the past, so despite his obvious animosity towards you, you treated him with the respect you thought he deserved – like a person, and you'd hoped that with time, he could see you as more than just a soldier too. though he still didn't like you, you liked to think that the two of you have come to some sort of understanding.

and that leads you to your problem; you wanted to know him. every tiny crack in his facade made you more and more curious about the man behind the mask – about simon, rather than ghost, but from what you could tell, he didn't hold the same sentiment about you. where he would banter back and forth with the others over comms, he'd fall silent whenever you join in. every minute little mistake was amplified to him, you've lost count of the amount of times he's berated you for things he's excused for others. it made your heart ache that you just couldn't win with him, and you feared you'd never understand why.

but now, as you sit shivering with a shock blanket wrapped around your shoulders, watching the smouldering remains of what was your home in the middle of the night, freezing and exhausted, you'd never felt more hated.

you could hear them, ghost and the captain, talking in hushed voices a little ways down the road from where you sit. they probably think they're being subtle, discussing what to do with you like you're not even there, like every single one of your worldly possessions hadn't just gone up in smoke, but you hear them as if they're standing right in front of you.

"i wouldn't do this if there were any other options, simon."

"there are plenty of other options, just stick 'em in a hotel for god's sake."

"there's no hotels close enough to base – it'll only be temporary, 'till we can find 'em somewhere else."

"fuckin' hell, why cant they go with one of the others?"

"soap and gaz are already flatmates, you live alone and you're the closest to base. this is the only option that makes sense."

"i'm not fuckin' happy about this, price."

their profiles are momentarily illuminated by the blue lights from the fire engine parked nearby, allowing you for a second to see the withering glare ghost is sending your way, and all of a sudden the last couple hours of emotional distress is crashing down on you; his obvious distaste for you combined with the toll of watching your house literally burning down was too much for you all at once. you could feel the tears start to spill over again, but you can’t find the strength to stop them and just bring the shock blanket closer to your face. you’d lost everything, and even now he couldn’t find it in himself to feel an ounce of compassion for you? why can’t he care for you like he does the others? like you do for him?

as your watery gaze drops to the soot and ash covering your pyjamas, a voice sounds from beside you, the opposite direction from price and ghost. you don’t even realise you’re hyperventilating until they lay a hand on your shoulder and rub soothing circles into your back.

“hey– hey, it’s okay,” it’s gaz, you notice in the back of your mind, sitting on the curb next to you. you squeeze your eyes shut in an attempt to block out the world around you, and gaz brings you closer into his embrace. “you’ll be alright, we’ll get everything sorted, yeah?”

"i– i don't– i can't–" you try to speak, but you can't seem to form a coherent sentence through your sobbing.

"it's alright, just breathe for me." gaz hugs you tighter again, your head coming to rest on his shoulder as he consoles you. for a few minutes you stay like that, your breathing eventuslly returning to normal and the tears slowing to a stop.

price and ghost are still arguing, but you can't hear what they're saying anymore; probably for the best, if you had to listen to ghost complain about you for one more second you might really have a breakdown.

soap's voice cuts through the fog in your mind, "managed to find this, thought ya' might want it." you look up to find him crouching in front of you and holding out a slightly singed photo, a weak smile on his face. "frame's broken, but the picture's still mostly fine."

you take it from him, fingers grasping the card gently as you turn it around to look at the picture. it's from a few years ago, you and your friends from your previous unit, smiling into the camera as if you had no worries at all. staring at the ghosts of your friends starts you crying again, clutching the photo to your chest and leaning back into gaz's shoulder. if anything could've survived the blaze, you're grateful it was this. gaz rubs your arm sofly, whispering comforting words to you again.

you hear another set of footsteps approach and look up again to see price now standing in front of you as well. it's not exactly surprising, but ghost is nowhere to be seen.

"ambulance is here," price says, offering you a hand and pulling you to your feet when you take it. "i'll follow behind to the hospital, one of you two take their car to simon's."

you nod and retrieve your car keys from your jacket pocket, thankful you'd had the mind to grab it on your way out in your frantic state.

"I've got a bag in the boot, it's got some clothes in it." you mutter, handing the keys to soap, who smiles and gives you a pat on the shoulder.

"no bother, i'll grab it for ya." he says, and jogs off to where your car was parked, thankfully untouched out of reach of the fire. he returns not a minute layer carrying your duffle of emergency supplies, something you never thought would actually come in handy.

before you know it you're waving gaz and soap goodbye, the paramedics are guiding you to the back of the ambulance, and you're leaving what remains of your old home in the rear-view mirror.

✹✹✹

you hated hospitals. it was a fact, and it had been that way since you were a child, everything about them just made your skin crawl. perhaps you inherited the feeling from your mother; she always managed to bring up her distaste for the place whenever the topic arose. or, maybe you only hated them because they scared you.

either way, the relief you felt as you stepped out of the front door into the car park with price trailing behind you was palpable. he falls into step next to you as the two of you make your way over to where he parked, his keys jingling as he fishes them from his pocket.

"we're puttin' you up with simon for the time being, 'till we can get you somewhere else." his words make you wince; you already knew he was going to say that, but it didn't stop the anxiety from bubbling up in your chest.

"i heard." a beat of silence passes before you continue. "how long will that take?" you ask, climbing into the passenger seat and dropping your bag at your feet as price settles into the driver's side.

"i wouldn't get your hopes up. might be quicker to wait for 'em to rebuild your old place." he flashes you a smile, but you can't find it in yourself to return the gesture.

"right."

neither of you say another word as he starts the engine and pulls out of the car park. you turn to look out the window, watching the world go by, the quiet rambling of the radio serving as white noise in the background. it's the early hours of the morning now, the sun would be up in a few hours and you'd have to go back to work already – price did say you could have the day off, but honestly the last thing you wanted was to sit around all day with nothing to do but overthink.

after nearly ten minutes of trying to ignore it, the worry playing at your mind becomes too much to keep to yourself.

"you know he hates me, right?" you utter, half expecting price to ignore your question all together.

he clicks his tongue. "he doesn't hate you," price replies, and his voice sounds reassuring but it doesn't bring you much comfort.

"okay, well, he doesn't like me either." you turn your head to look at him, raising your brows. rolling to a stop at a red light, he meets your eyes and huffs.

"alright, he can be difficult–"

"really?"

"–but i promise you, he doesn't hate you." he says. you give him a disbelieving look, and he sighs, looking back to the road as the light turns green. "give him a chance, alright?"

"is he gonna give me a chance?" 

"he will." price says firmly, sparing you a look as he drives down the quiet road. "and if he doesn't, you'll knock some sense into him, eh?"

"sure…" you mutter, looking back out the window and falling back into silence. its only a few minutes until he's pulling over to the side of the road, outside the house number you know to be ghost's.

"sting," price calls out, stopping you as you reach for the door handle, "he'll come around, alright?"

"it's been a year, cap. i don't think he will." you reply, and before he can say anything else you open the door and step out into the night air, grabbing your bag from your feet before closing the door again. you give price a half-hearted wave as he pulls away again, before turning around and gazing up at your – temporary – new home.

it was nice, all things considered; a standard terrace on the end of the row, but the size has you wondering if there was even room for you to stay here. though it's not as if you have a choice. all the lights were off, which had you hopeful that you wouldn't run into ghost just yet.

you drag yourself to the front door, your eyes stinging from the effort of keeping them open, and twist the handle as quietly as possible, closing it behind you and cringing at the clunk it makes. thankfully ghost didn't hate you enough to lock you out for the night, something you actually wouldn't put past him considering how he feels about you.

there's a small side table in the entryway that catches your attention. on top of it sits your car keys – you make a mental note to thank soap in the morning – a new key, and a note. you pick up the paper, using the torch from your phone to examine the scratchy handwriting.

living room's yours. lock the door. – s

it's more than you expected from him. you sigh to yourself and pick up the other key, locking the door and shuffling into the small living room. the pull-out bed is made up for you, albeit quite messily, and you waste no time in dropping your stuff and laying your head down on the lumpy pillow.

with any luck, this arrangement wouldn't last long, but in the meantime you got the feeling you were in for a bumpy ride.

[fraugwinska]

If it’s okay, can you do Alastor x Reader where Alastor catches you relapsing after a fight with him? If it’s too much, you don’t have to do it. Just wanted some comfort for what I’m going through. You’re also a very good writer! Keep up the great work! xx

Hey anon - I hope you are doing well. I couldn't let this one sit too long in my inbox... Whatever you are going through: I hope this will help you with a bit of comfort. (I do hope I didn't misinterpret your ask...) I send you the biggest hug, my dearest! <3 TW:Self Harm,Depression,Angst - Minors DNI - 1.3k words

You were doing so well. So, so well.

Arguments with Alastor occurred from time to time, but you had done so well in not letting them become full-blown fights. His rationale and your restraint had always managed to hold the worst at bay and settle any troubles with a few deep breaths, calm words and a compromise. It was something you were hugely proud of, something you had never been able to do before, and with him - you finally seemed to manage.

But now, after a tirade of harsh words, hurtful remarks and slammed doors you are alone in your room, curled up in a bed that feels much too big and streaks of cold tears on your cheeks. Immediately after you stormed out Alastor's radio tower you regretted your tone, regretted what you said, the way you got irrationally upset and how you provoked him - just to hurt him. You were unfair, cruel even, and the worst part was you didn't mean a single thing you said in the heat of the argument. Of course, Alastor said some choice words to you too, nasty things said in cold calmness, but only in reaction to your emotionally charged onslaught. And it didn't change the fact that you had done him wrong, over a fucking triviality that spun out of control.

It doesn't change the fact that the feelings and thoughts you feared slowly return, thoughts of your inadequacy, your worthlessness, your shortcomings all coming back into your head in one big punch of guilt and insecurity. Spiraling, you feel yourself getting more and more tense, like a pressure cooker without a valve, ready to burst. Your chest hurts - no, everything hurts: Your chest, your arms, your head, your heart.

You had done so well.

But you are desperate, panicked - you've pushed the one person away that was able to ground you, the only one that could make you feel safe and strong enough to withstand this urge, this need to hurt, to release. You bury your nails in your thigh, but it is far from enough. He must hate you now, and could you blame him? No, no you couldn't, and you push yourself off the bed, almost frantic.

Release, release, release - where is it? The shame you hid when you first moved into the hotel, the valve you had used so often to momentarily drain yourself from this burdening pain, the tool you had to use because you weren't reborn in hell with the fortune of sharp talons.

The loose floorboard creaks under your erratic steps. Ah. There. Hidden under your feet, untouched for so long. You start to cry again as you kneel down, lifting the panel. You feel like a failure.

Sorry, I am so sorry, your head chants as you reach for it with trembling hands, please just let it be a little less, just a tiny, little...

"Darling..."

You freeze. His voice is quiet, tune- and toneless echoing from behind you. It sends a new shiver through your tense, quivering body. Your hand hovers over the small object but you can't move it away, eyes squeezed shut in defeat. Your brain races, thinking of anything to say but coming up empty.

"My sweetling, whatever you're looking for under there...", he continues slowly, softly, each step of his dressing shoes against the parquet resounding painfully loud in your ears. You're so mortified by him catching you in the act that the tight coil in you seems ready to snap. "...will not do you any good."

He halts when when he is next to you, kneeling down. You feel his shoulder brush your back as he lays a clawed hand on yours and gently pulls it away from the hole in the floor. Your shoulders begin to shake with ragged sobs and his tender touch on your cheek prompts you to tilt your head, face hot, and to look him into his eyes that seem both understanding and sad.

"Harming yourself will only make you hate yourself more than you regrettably already do."

You try to breathe, but fail miserably, choking on the air around you. How could you justify what you were about to do, how could you hurt him again like this, with this action, with this thoughts, after everything you both have worked for? You had done so well - Why didn't you have it more under control, like you should?

"I'm sorry, A-Alastor... I'm sorry, s-so sorry, please..."

He pulls you into him, his arms wrapping around you in a tight, steady embrace. One hand comes up, stroking your hair in tender movements, shushing you quietly as he lets you sob into his shoulder. The longer he holds you the easier it gets to draw deep breathes, until you finally manage to draw in the air that your body lacked so much. With each rise and fall of your chest, you feel a tiny bit of the panic fade, as if his soothing static draws it out in humble waves, soft and soothing around and inside you.

"I know, darling...", Alastor murmurs, kissing the top of your head and tightening his hold, "It's all long forgiven already."

A shattered sigh escapes you. How could he do all this for you? Accept you, with all the flaws and mistakes and shortcomings? How can he forgive you with such gentle ease? And still care for you, despite and including it all, why? How?

"Please don't hate me..."

He only loosens his grip when you stop trembling, carefully taking your chin between his claws, prompting you to break the chain of self-degrading thoughts and silencing the whispers in your head as he locks his eyes on yours.

"I could never, darling, even if I tried. But you need to understand: You are fighting the most vicious and cruel enemy there is, my love.", his face is void of the smirk he often wore, the one he doesn't use to tease or ridicule, or mock, it's his serious smile. The one he wears when he's about to be blunt. "Yourself."

A sudden rush of fresh tears cloud your vision. He's right, you know he is - you have always been your own worst enemy. Never giving yourself a fighting chance, the help and care you didn't feel you deserve. It felt so tiring, hopeless, in these moments where you fell victim to your weakness and turned it all onto yourself.

"I'm... so weak."

"We all have our battles. And this happens to be one you exhausted yourself to win on your own. However...", he offers you a sweet smile, taking your hand, "...it's a battle you don't have to fight alone anymore."

He takes your face into one of his large hands - the warmth of his palm is soothing against the rawed skin of your cold cheek as you instinctively lean into it, chasing the gentleness of the touch. The smile he gives you is more serious than you've ever seen before, and he lifts his other hand, waving his fingers for a split second in the corner of your eyes - the loose floorboard squeaks as it magically sets itself back into its place and seals itself with the flooring, eliminating the option of taking it off again. Alastor sighs, tilting his head to recapture your gaze.

"Whatever angry words are exchanged and however vexed we might be with each other... please, my love, let me hold you together in my arms when you threaten to fall apart like this."

How long he held you in his arms that night, settled in your bed instead of his as you usually did - you didn't know. How many soothing touches he planted on your body – you didn't count. All that mattered were the soft kisses that he pressed on your cheeks, the way he held your hand, fingers entwined with yours, and the soothing words he repeated to you, over and over like a mantra.

"You are doing well, my love."

[daniiiboo]

one of those days - lh43

summary - you have had a terrible day, but luke is finally home to help you

trigger warnings - reader is tired, done w it all, and sad

dani's thoughts - i havent really wrote anything this deep for tumblr so smth newwww, but i am in LOVE with this fic sooo and yall love the luke so

word count - 990

It's been one of those days. The type where all you can do is yell into the abyss and hope that somebody will hear you. Yet all the abyss has done is reply with silence.

To start with, the alarm didn't ring and because of this, you fell behind on your morning meeting. And then, halfway to work, the car broke down and you waited for an hour for a tow truck, doing calculations in your head, and how much this was going to set you back. At the office, it didn't get any better. The email server was down, you couldn't access half your files, and your boss wasn't happy with your progress. It felt like everything was falling apart around you.

And the icing on the cake? Your phone died, and you knew Luke wouldn't be able to text you. You hadn't heard from him all day. It was a roadie for the New Jersey Devils, and you knew he was somewhere on the road, city to city, working long hours for the team. You felt the emptiness in your apartment without him. It was just you, your cluttered kitchen, and the pile of stuff you had to go through that seemed endless.

As the night drew in, you'd had enough. You sat defeated on the sofa and wondered why things will ever get any better. You stared blankly at the TV, not even interested at what was on, just wishing you had someone to talk to, someone who'd be there and make it all feel less overwhelming. You closed your eyes and attempted to imagine the comfort of Luke's presence, the way he'd always known how to make you feel better.

But then passed an hour. And another. And another. You hadn't heard from him. Your heart sank a little.

Just when you were about to lose all hope, immersing yourself deeper into the frustration of the day, you heard the familiar sound of keys jingling, unlocking your apartment door.

The thud of a bag got your heart racing.

You forced yourself to walk to the door, your feet dragging as if you were walking through molasses. And when you made it to the door, you saw Luke Hughes. His eyes, wide and bright, softened at the sight of you, your slumped posture, and the exhaustion mapped on your face. He had that look. a look that said I've missed you but also I'm here to make it better.

"Hey hey", he said gently, his voice full of warmth and concern. "How's my favorite person doing?"

You didn't answer immediately. Instead, you took a shaking breath and wiped a stray tear from your cheek that you hadn't even noticed had fallen. You weren't used to letting him see you like this exhausted, defeated version of yourself. But today was too much.

Luke's brow furrowed, and he reached for your hand.

“I’m here now. It’s all going to be okay, alright?”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat.

"It’s just… it’s been one of those days. Everything is falling apart, Luke. And you’re out there on the road, doing your thing with the Devils, and I’m just here, trying to hold it all together.".

Luke's grasp on your hand tightened as he pulled you into a bear hug. Immediately, the heat from his arms sucked the stiffness out of your body.

"I know it's tough," he murmured into your hair. "But I'm here now. Let me get you through it."

He pulled away and gently tipped up your chin so that you were looking into his eyes.

"Tell me everything. What happened?"

You blinked, and took a trembling breath before you started telling him about the frustration of your day. About how your morning had spiralled out of control. About how you couldn't even find any peace in your own home. And about how, in the back of your mind, you felt the emptiness of him being away, even though he was out there doing his best for the team.

Luke didn't say a word, he was speechless, and his thumb caressed your hand. When you finished, he smiled a little.

"That's a lot to carry on your own," he said softly. "But you don't have to. And you're so much stronger than you think you are."

You weakly smiled, tired.

"Sometimes I don't feel very strong."

Luke shook his head, pulling you back and hugged you again, and his hands gently made contact on your back.

"You don't have to be strong every time. It's alright to have days when you need someone else to lean on."

His words hit a little harder than you expected, and you clung to him, the heaviness in your chest gradually lifting.

Now, after several minutes, Luke slowly pulled it out and smiled slyly. Just hold the date off for a little while.

You blinked at him confused.

"I ordered takeout," Luke said with a wink. "And. I have a surprise for you."

You lifted an eyebrow.

"A surprise?"

"Yes." He drew out a tiny bag that held inside it a small plush animal, a New Jersey Devil plushie, with a tiny little jersey on it that had Hughes on the back with his number.

Your heart melted.

"Luke, you're such a dork," you laughed, your mood already starting to lift.

He laughed, bumping into you in a playful manner.

"I know. But if it's going to make you smile, I'll keep being a dork.

After a comfortable evening of eating together, Luke stuck around. He offered to help you with all the chores that you had been avoiding, like sorting through emails, washing the dishes, or just sitting with you while you did the little things that had before seemed so overwhelming.

By the time you guys went to bed, your universe seemed slightly less overwhelming. You still needed to accomplish things tomorrow, but it wasn't as if the world rested on your shoulders now. Above everything else, you knew that even during bad days, you weren't entirely by yourself. Luke always returned to you, his presence, his touch, and his warm smile when you most needed him.

And with that, you could breathe again.

[nathaslosthershit]

The Main Event (Multiple Pairings) Part 2

Part 2 to The Main Event. Also Part 8 in the Blind Items AU, but can be read as a standalone Summary: A wedding between Logan Sargeant and the youngest Leclerc child means a very interesting guest list, in which all previous victims of the F1 Blind Items account are included. A/N: This is part 2 to this fic! Because I only wanted it to be one fic, I am adding this section to the first part. Each pairing has a Blind Items backstory which is linked at the start of their section (You don't have to read the backstory, though) Multiple (separate) Pairings: Part 2 - Logan Sargeant x Leclerc!reader, Alexander Albon Part 1 - Logan Sargeant x Leclerc!reader Oscar Piastri x reader, Charles Leclerc x reader, Lando Norris x reader, Lance Stroll x reader, Lewis Hamilton x reader

Alexander Albon

Things had been… awkward for Alex and his girlfriend the past few days. After what started off as an innocent inquiry from a friend about the couple's plans for marriage in conjunction with Alex’s attending the wedding of his teammate, it seemed like there were some conversations the two needed to be having.

They had been together for years, longer than the current bride and groom had known each other. Longer than a lot of couples either engaged, married, or with kids had been dating. 

But there was still no ring. 

It hadn’t been a problem before. They had talked about getting married, casually talked and joked about “when they had kids”. But those topics hadn’t been seriously considered for a while now. Like a hangnail that hurt every time it brushed against something, even though it would be so much better to just rip it off quickly and let it heal, neither Alex nor his girlfriend seemed to be able to broach the subject. 

They sat silently in the car, driving to the venue, painfully aware of what the other was thinking about. 

Did Alex not want to marry her? After so many years, maybe he just has never seen marriage as something he needed, plenty of couples decide not to get married. But wouldn’t he tell her if he didn’t want to ever be married, instead of letting her wait and wait and wait? Especially when he knew she wanted to get married- did he even know she wanted to get married? Did she even know if she wanted to get married? They lived together, their lives intertwined with one another, maybe they could just have a civil partnership. But that didn’t sound right in her mind. What if-

Her spiralling was interrupted when Alex turned on the radio, at full volume. Both wincing at the noise, he turned it down a little, letting the song fill the crisis filled air between the two. 

It helped a little, at least they could pretend they were both listening to the music instead of what they were actually doing, questioning their relationship. 

As the song ended, a radio talk show came on, one about elderly folks giving life advice. “Aw I love this, it always has sweet stories.” Alex said, trying to break the tension. 

“Here we have Violet with us! Now everyone, Violet got married for the first time about a year ago to her longtime partner, Vance. Both were 83 years old and had put it off for a long time, thinking they had been too old, but following a terminal diagnosis Vance was given, the two decided to go for it. Now a year later, Violet is here with her update. Violet, how are you doing today?” The host asked. The couple in the car stiffened, of course this is the topic. 

“I am doing well, thank you. Today is a special day, it would have been Vance’s 84th birthday, and I can say that while it is hard not to be with him, I have all my love for him and the love I knew he had for me to keep me going.”

“I am sorry to hear about his passing, Violet.” The host somberly said.

“Oh that is alright, I actually arranged to call back in because I recently received our wedding pictures, and looking at them reminded me I wanted to update the good folks that listen. While we knew Vance would pass soon after the wedding, I am so happy to have these photos to keep with me now that he is gone. We had written off marriage because we had both been ‘too old’ in our opinions. Neither of us had gotten married to our past partners before, so we didn’t feel the need now. While I don’t believe marriage is best for everyone, some folks just don’t need it, I can say for certain that being surrounded with family and loved ones as Vance and I celebrated our love, especially when we knew death would soon part us, I believe it was the greatest decision of my life. Vance knew I would be with him no matter how long he gave me, and that I would take on the grief if it meant I knew I truly loved and was loved. I really believed that comforted him in the end, and that alone comforts me. We were only married for about three months before he passed, but he will remain my husband till I eventually join him. And I couldn’t be happier for that.” Violet said, a mix of emotions filling her voice.

She turned off the radio before they could hear any more. 

Silence again filled the car- well apart from Alex’s sniffles. 

She turned to her boyfriend, who was driving while trying to wipe his tears without her seeing he was crying.

“Are- Alex are you okay?” she asked, concerned. 

“Yeah, no it's- yeah I'm good.” He unconvincingly replied. Suddenly, he slammed on the breaks, almost missing a stop sign, distracted by his tears. “Shit- I’m sorry I didn’t see-” 

She couldn't make out his words over the sobs. Fortunitally, he had enough of a sound mind to pull over before he could danger them more. 

Alex turned to his girlfriend abruptly, “I want to marry you. I want to marry you so badly and I know marriage has always been jokingly discussed between us, but I need to know you also want to marry me. I don’t want to wait till we are 83 and I am dying. I don’t want to wait another year, to be honest. So please just tell me if you aren’t-” She cut him off with a kiss, her own tears mixing with his. “Are you proposing?” She half-joke- half-sobbed. 

“Yes, fuck yes I am.” Instead of answering him, she just kissed him, again, just as passionately as the first. 

“We can’t tell Logan we got engaged the day of his wedding.”

Logan Sargeant

Bridesmaids on one side, Groomsmen on the other, the officiant and Logan in the middle.

Logan had memorized the order in which everything would go. He stood anxiously in front of a crowd of people, full of friends and family, as well as some of his idols since he was a child. People he still felt had no reason to even know his name, much less attend his wedding. 

Next came the Piastri twins with petals in their baskets. They took a few confident steps till they realized just how many people were looking at them. Then in an instant, the weeks of preparation for their big moment went out the window as they both stood there, frowns on their faces. Logan’s heart broke a little at how shy they had suddenly gotten.

Maybe he really should have had Dalton take their place. 

After a few moments the twins still didn’t move. Logan was about to make his way down the aisle to them, but his brother-in-law-to-be, Charles, stepped through the entrance to get to them, holding his newborn, who was acting as the ring-bearer despite being a month old and currently asleep. Charles crouched down between the two toddlers, whispering something no one else but the two of them heard, causing shocked but excited looks to replace the shy pouts. 

The toddlers each stood on the side of Charles and his sleeping child, throwing petals with renewed excitement. By the time they reached the end, Logan crouched down to give them each a hug, getting a kiss on the cheek and ‘good luck, Lo Lo’. Charles passed the rings to Dalton, the best man, and answered Logan’s questioning look with a quick explanation, “I told them my son was very nervous about walking down the aisle and I hoped they would walk with him. I also said you’d give them candy after.” 

Logan rolled his eyes, happy Charles had looked out for his honorary niece and nephew, but annoyed he now had to find candy for the toddlers unless he wanted a tantrum to end all tantrums at his reception dinner. 

The second the bride stepped down the aisle, her mom by her side, Logan forgot what he was worried about before. Suddenly, seeing his fiancé in her dress, glowing in a way that could only be explained by magic, Logan knew nothing in his life had ever felt so right. 

He had to stop himself from kissing her as she stood in front of him, only half listening to the officiant. He didn’t care about all the famous people in the crowd, didn’t care about how miserable he was at Williams, didn’t care about all the shit he got from fans, didn’t care about anything but the woman who was in front of him. 

In a flash, vows were exchanged, ‘I do’s were said, and he was kissing his wife and then running down the aisle. 

Everything was so good.

[forest-hashira]

this absolutely would not leave me alone, in reference to this post. @fushigurro thank u for supporting/enabling me. divider by cafekitsune. this is omegaverse, mentions of heat cycles/sex but nothing explicit. minors dni.

it had been a few days since your synced heat with satoru had ended, and though it hadn't actually lasted longer than normal, it had felt like it, neither of you able to get the kind of relief you really needed. you'd given yourselves a day to sober up and recover, and then you'd had a much dreaded conversation.

you'd been everything to each other since you'd gotten together straight out of school. in all that time, you'd never needed anyone else for anything, even able to get each other through your heats with a little help from some toys. but this had been a brutal wake up call, a reminder that there were some things you'd never be able to do for each other, no matter how hard you tried.

it was unsettling to realize, though, and the following realization that you would have to find someone else to trust in your most vulnerable moments was downright scary. a new partner couldn't be just anyone, especially not if they were going to help both of you when you needed it. in fact, there was only one person either of you could imagine trusting with that.

and so you set up a coffee date.

"you feelin' okay, baby?" satoru's gentle voice pulled you from your mental spiral, and you offered him a weak smile.

"what makes you ask?" you set your drink down on the table, unable to stomach anything because of your anxiety.

"your leg has been bouncing nonstop since we sat down." he peered at you over the tops of his sunglasses, leaning in to rest his forehead against your temple. "it's all gonna be fine, you know that, right?"

"unless he hates us for asking this of him and decides he never wants to speak to us again." you weren't expecting the laugh your words drew from him, and you pinched his side harshly. "don't laugh at me! it's not impossible..."

you could practically feel him roll his eyes at you. "he's not gonna hate us," he soothed, the faintest hint of a purr rumbling beneath his words, easing some of the tension in your shoulders. "i doubt he'll say no, either. he's had a thing for you for years."

"he has not!" you turned and looked up at him, wide-eyed.

satoru cocked his head slightly, seeming genuinely surprised. "he has too! he told me once when we were drunk, before we all graduated and you and i got together. you didn't know?"

"of course i didn't know! he never said anything to me. i knew he was in love with you, though."

it was satoru's turn to look shocked. "you're lying to me."

"i am not! we all saw the way he looked at you. it was obvious."

your boyfriend seemed to pale at your words, as impossible as it was. "for how long?"

"from the very first day i met you guys. he still looks at you like that, y'know."

"who looks at satoru like what?"

suguru's voice startled both of you, and you looked up at him with burning faces. the alpha's brows pinched with concern as he sat across the table from the two of you. satoru pushed a black coffee towards him, but it went untouched as he spoke again.

"are you guys okay? you said you needed to ask me something important. is something wrong?"

you and satoru exchanged a look, your omega offering you an encouraging nod.

"sort of," you sighed after a moment. "we, uh. well. our heats synced last week, and it sucked. like it was really bad."

suguru nodded, worry still painted across his features. "even with each other and..." he trailed off, glancing around as if remembering you were in a public place, and that it was probably not a great idea to talk openly about sex toys.

"yeah, even with that," you confirmed. "it was really, really miserable, and we really don't want to be caught off guard if our cycles ever sync like that again. which is why we asked you here."

now he really looked confused. "i don't think i understand."

"we need an alpha," satoru replied, his blunt nature a true blessing in that moment. "and you're the only one we trust to help us – to take care of us."

there was a beat of silence, then another. your heart began to pound, and you felt a bit sick all of a sudden. because this was it, wasn't it? your best friend outside of your partner was about to tell you both that you were disgusting simply for asking, and that he never wanted to hear from you ever again. he was—

"oh, uh... really?" there was no mistaking the flustered look on your friend's face, and that surprised you; he was usually so confident. "yeah, of course. i'm honored you trust me like that. anything you need, just let me know. i'll be there for you."

the relief that washed over you was so intense it nearly made you dizzy, and you were certain you would've collapsed if you weren't already sitting down. "you don't wanna take some time to think about it?"

he shook his head. "don't need to. if it means helping you guys, the answer's always going to be yes."

"whipped for us already, huh?" satoru teased, attempting to maintain his composure despite his face being the prettiest shade of pink.

the smile that tugged at suguru's lips was affectionate, his gaze warm as he took in the two of you across from him. "yeah," he agreed softly. "something like that."

[butterflydm]

WoT 3x07 Deep Dive (additional book spoilers)

Spoilers for the show through 3x07, and for the books through A Memory of Light. Fairly short this time!

As a whole, this episode strikes a very different tone than the same events in the books, but it's a tone that I personally liked better. The Two Rivers does feel smaller and even more isolated... which means that Perrin making deals to save his people feels believable -- they can't win with force alone. Perrin first getting called a lord as a friendly joke and then later called that because of how he is sacrificing himself to save his people plays for me much better than the similar beats in the book do, where it feels more like Jordan just believed that people naturally want to have lords over them, even fiercely independent people like those of the Two Rivers. I also love that the show leans into the Two Rivers being egalitarian, which the books kinda were not always successful at showing.

I am really wondering if all of the deal-making that Perrin is doing in this episode is going to end up being foreshadowing for how the Seanchan are treated in the future! In the books, Perrin makes a 'deal with the devil' to save Faile's life, but in that case, he trades the lives of other people instead of his own, as he does here.

Overall, both Perrin and Mat* have been shown to have a much stronger moral core than their book versions, which will definitely have an impact on how future events play out (this version of Mat would never fall for an unrepentent slaver and the audience would never accept it of him, so Tuon will need to have actual character development in the show if they still want to use that relationship). Perrin taking and keeping the firm moral stance of "people shouldn't be in cages" and now we've seen him make his decision on where he stands on violence -- used in the absolute last resort, but always be prepared to end the violence when possible. Even if you're a danger to him personally (the Whitecloaks) or to everyone that he cares about (the Shadowspawn), if there is a way to create peace, it's worth the cost. But, specifically, where in the books Perrin was shuffling the cost onto other people, here he takes the cost onto himself. Very big thematic difference going on there.

(*Rand actually retains a much stronger moral core in the books than either Mat or Perrin do, even as he does absolutely does do war crimes because he feels like he has no choice; we see Rand showing much more remorse & etc. over it than Perrin or Mat do. I wonder if Rand is going to be played more along the lines of how he is in the books, but now the other two boys will have the ability to help pull him back from the edge, because they're not struggling with the corruption from the Dark One. One of my big frustrations during the "the ta'veren boys all decide to work with the Seanchan" arcs of CoT/KoD is that it made it so that none of them were able to call each other on their bullshit because they were all doing basically identical bullshit)

The other possibility is that the show is setting up strong moral cores for Mat & Perrin in order to break them down again later (which the books essentially do) but, again, I feel like having Mat and Perrin echoing Rand's downward spiral felt like overkill in the books. So we will see what happens there.

Perrin comes off so much better in his relationships with the other Two Rivers people here in the show than he did in the books. Marcus gives Perrin a lot of warmth, and we aren't inside his head, so we don't hear any weird and petty thoughts.

Perrin was big on the weird and petty thoughts -- when he sees Laila again in the books, he thinks about how glad he is that he didn't marry her, because she's gotten chubby after having a baby (I guess Faile is too inherently hot to dare to stay chubby after giving birth). He thinks about how he dislikes Wil al'Seen because of the way Wil smiles at the girls and draws their attention (and he continues to hold Wil's smile against him for almost the entire series! book!Perrin has a vendetta against men who smile). He treats Aram like shit because he doesn't know how to handle Aram's trauma. And he's always playing weird games with Faile because he can smell her emotions but doesn't tell her that, so he's constantly trying to compensate for jealousy that she is feeling but not displaying.

Perrin got such a glow-up in the show. Not having his internal narration did make some things trickier -- that's one of the reasons that Laila was married to him and then died, to externalize one of his internal issues about violence -- but it also makes him come across as a much better and kinder person.

Is Lord Luc just an easter egg cameo or will he return to be Slayer in s4? We don't really get any indication in this season that he's anything more than he appears, and the actor doesn't really 'pop' for me in the role, so I'm inclined towards cameo. Hopefully we will get a chance to find out in s4!

"We deserve respect before battle and honor after it."

I've talked before, I think, about how I feel like the show took something that was (fairly nonsensically) a cultural Two Rivers trait (Must Protect The Women) and turned it into something personal for Perrin that made narrative and emotional sense. So they can still explore how damaging and insulting it can be to have that overprotectiveness, without the nonsense of why this supposedly egalitarian farming region shares this benign misogyny that doesn't really make much sense based on what else we're told about them and the history of the world (the show also did away with another relic that didn't make much sense given what we were told about the region, which was the books' Two Rivers' prudishness about sex).

So instead of all of the Two Rivers' men being overprotective towards women, it's only Perrin, because of what happened with his wife. It's rooted in a personal event instead of being a cultural thing. So the only two characters that we've seen show glimmers of this behavior are Perrin (and specifically for women that he has romantic-ish feelings about -- we've seen him do this with Egwene in early s1 and now Faile in s3) and Galad (about every random woman he encounters). Because Perrin's behavior is coming from grief and trauma, he gets treated more gently by the narrative for acting this way, while Galad gets thumped and put on his ass for White Knighting all over women who don't want or need his help.

I hope we get to see some of the Maidens "using ji'e'toh as an excuse" when it comes to s4 and, hopefully, building up Rand's relationship with the Maidens of the Spear. It would make sense to use Bain & Chiad's relationship with Loial as an example of this for us to look back on and see that this is an established behavior that Maidens can engage in.

I really like the change to Aram's story, since I don't think the show has the time to really dig into the whole "corrupted by a zealot" subplot, plus I hear that the actor is getting more work recently, so he might not even have been available for an expanded role later on. If we do get a cameo of Aram-as-blacksmith in the future, I would be thrilled but I am also really glad that he gets to have this compassionate an ending.

One thing that this episode seems to be doing is shortening or cutting off subplots -- Valda's death cuts off the Morgase & Galad subplot, where he's the one who gets revenge/justice for the 'death' of his mother; it looks like we're going to be doing the Whitecloaks Trial subplot next season, to help fill in Perrin's lack of appearance in The Fires of Heaven; Aram becoming the Two Rivers' blacksmith would seem to cut off that subplot as well.

And Loial dying cuts off probably any and all visits to Steddings and the "convincing the Ogier to join the Last Battle" subplot which, you know, given how expensive it likely was only to have Loial, having an army of Ogier seems even more unlikely. We already had indications last season that the Seanchan "Gardeners" don't exist (the Ogier that fight in their armies), because of the way that Suroth treated Loial, and it's just a lot easier not to have them involved in the Last Battle.

We also dealt with the hammer vs axe conundrum, which implies to me that we may get more wolf-related stuff from Perrin next season, since that part was put on the backburner here. I mean, being in captivity seems like it could potentially being a good time to do wolf dream stuff. We'll see! Hopefully! Come on, give us that s4 renewal!

[luxaofhesperides]

Ghostlight prompt: Danny and Duke being childhood friends, but Danny tells Duke the moment the accident happens and such cause he trusts him, only for Danny to go radio silent when giw decide to block the town communications in senior year.

So Duke-does he tell Danny he's Signal or not? Up to you-gets worried the longer no contact goes by.

Maybe the away game thing seen in other posts where the sports team still does away games and Danny gets enough good will with star or dash maybe and they send a message to Duke that's some coded phrase and Duke knows shits going down?

(yourlocalcorviddad, it's a side blog so didn't want to send from main sorry)

Danny is not someone who is on his mind a lot, these days. It’s to be expected, considering how distance and their double lives eat up all the time they have to talk. Really, it’s a miracle that they were able to speak enough to learn about their own individual vigilante work, especially with Duke bouncing around foster homes for a good portion of that time. 

They haven’t spoke in months but that’s normal for them.

Duke thinks he can be forgiven for not knowing something was wrong. He still won’t forgive himself for it.

“Danny’s gone?” he repeats, feeling numb. There’s static ringing in his ears, his entire world hollowing out.

The guy in front of him looks grim, unable to meet Duke’s eyes. Did he introduce himself? Duke can’t remember, can’t keep his spiraling thoughts straight in his head. “He’s gone. His entire family is gone and we haven’t been able to call for help because… well…”

“It’s those guys, right? The ones in white?”

“You know about them?”

“Danny told me. Danny told me a lot about what he did in Amity Park.”

The guy lets out a slow, relieved breath. “Good, then I don’t have to explain. Sorry, it’s just that it’s not something we talk about, especially out in the open. After the last few months, things got really bad. We know the GIW took the Fentons, but we can’t find out how or why and they’ve got us on a tight lockdown.”

“Then how did you get out?” Duke asks. Another arguably more important question pops into his mind a second later. “Actually, how do you know about Danny and… you know. The other things.”

The grimness on the guy’s expression fades away some beneath the sudden shame and embarrassment. “Oh, that. Well, I dunno how much he told you about his, like, daily life, but, um. I’m Dash. Baxter. I bullied him?”

Dash. 

Dash. That’s a name he recognizes. 

Danny’s complained about Dash a lot in the past. Since they were in middle school, really. Duke would always get mad on Danny’s behalf about how terribly he’s being treated, how no one would stop such obvious bullying. And every time, Danny would laugh it off and say in that soft voice of his, It’s alright, Duke, really. Having you care is more than enough for me.

It never stopped the bullying, though, but the way Danny talked about Dash changed when they both entered high school. He was still annoyed about everything Dash did, but there were less insults about him, less venting about every little thing that pissed Danny off about him, as if he just didn’t care anymore.

And there is, of course, the most memorable time Danny called Duke about Dash over the summer.

Hey, Danny, Duke had began, only to be cut off by Danny yelling, I kissed Dash?! Or he kissed me?! What am I supposed to do now!

And Duke, despite the jealousy he felt at hearing that Danny and Dash kissed, laughed so hard he cried while Danny yelled at him to be helpful. 

There wasn’t any discussion on Dash since, beyond a comment here and there about a funny fanboying thing Dash had said about Phantom. The focus of their conversations shifted towards how hard it was to be heroes or vigilantes, quiet reassurances that they’re both doing the best they can, tips traded about best ways to patch themselves up and get through the night. Sometimes, it felt like Danny was the only person in the world to really know Duke; all his pain and promises, his dreams, everything he was Before and who he became in the After.

He’s missed Danny, but the last message Danny sent him told him that things were getting rough in Amity Park, and to not call or contact him until he reached out first.

So Duke trusted in Danny and focused his attention in Gotham, putting his all into becoming a better hero, someone people can rely on. 

He thinks that maybe he should have fallen into the Bats’ bad habits of invading privacy to make sure Danny’s okay. 

Too late for that now, though.

“I know you,” Duke says after a long moment. “He talked about you sometimes. Come with me, we have a lot to discuss.”

Dash looks appropriately nervous, but he doesn’t argue. 

It’s a tense, quiet walk to the library where Barbara works. She’s stationed at the front desk when he arrives and greets him with a smile, eyes flicking towards Dash in question.

“Hey, Babs, got a private study room open?”

Her gaze sharpens and Duke can’t help the feeling of relief that flows through him, knowing that Oracle is ready to look out for him. “Let me check,” she says, turning towards the computer to click around a few pages. “Study room 8 is open.”

That’s the study room with a working lock and soundproofing. It also has cameras and a mic inside, but all the other study rooms have one too, just for safety purposes. Things could always go terribly wrong when people are locked together in a small room, and having video and audio evidence of what happened has assisted in more than a few cases. 

He leads them up to the second floor, past the students studying and the group of young children in the back corner of the library listening intently to a read aloud. 

The only occupied study rooms are those up front, closer to the stairs. The back rooms are empty and quiet, the perfect place for a little impromptu interrogation.

“So,” Duke says as he closes the door to study room 8 behind them. Dash sits down as if this is just a casual conversation, but the way his foot taps against the floor betrays his nerves. “Danny’s gone. And somehow, that lead you to me.”

Dash glance around, then leans closer to drop his voice into a harsh whisper. “The Guys In White got some insane upgrades a few months ago and forced every citizen of Amity Park into a surveillance state. The entire Fenton family is gone, but we all know it’s really because they want Danny.”

“Explain the situation in Amity Park some more.”

“Well. It’s like this: we didn’t take them seriously, so they upped their moves and got us trapped. No one goes in or out of Amity Park without good, verifiable reason. We have a curfew and we can be randomly stopped and searched for ectoplasm or exposure to ghosts. Most of the ghosts have left, but a few of the stronger ones hang around to cause trouble to get the GIW off our backs for a bit.”

“So how did you end up in Gotham?”

“I was invited to tour the college. And since outsiders were expecting me, the GIW let me go. But there’s definitely some that tailed me to Gotham, but I can’t find them at all. Even talking to you now is a huge risk for me.”

Which means they don’t have much time to talk before someone comes looking for Dash. His words, paired with everything Duke’s heard from Danny, paint a deeply unpleasant picture in his mind. “Are you going to be in trouble?”

“Nah, I’ll be fine. It’s Danny we’re all worried about. He told me before he got caught that if anything happened to him, I should find you. Tucker helped us narrow down where exactly you are and sent you that text to get you to where we met.”

“What do you think I can do?”

“I don’t know,” Dash admits. “But Danny trusts you, and he needs your help.”

Duke was never going to say no to this request to begin with, but damn if those words don’t make him want to run to Amity Park without waiting for anyone else.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay. I’ll help rescue him and bring down the GIW. You should go now, before they get too suspicious.”

“What are you planning?”

“I got a couple of friends who are good at destroying government property. Trust me, you’ll see what we’re up, we’re pretty noticeable if we’re pissed off enough.”

“Don’t take too long then,” Dash says, standing up, “I expect a good show from you. See you around, man.”

And with that, Dash pats Duke’s shoulder and leaves the study room. Duke doesn’t follow after him.  He’s got a rescue to start planning, and the less time he wastes, the better.

In the end, it’s pretty simple. It’s not a hard mission at all when the time comes for them to act, but the amount of data they gather and have to shift through is daunting. But that’s more Tim and Barbara’s forte, so he trusts them to handle it. 

Together with Red Robin, Spoiler, and Black Bat, they hit Amity Park hard and fast. 

One night was spent learning the lay of the land and every station and lab set up by the GIW. The second night was spent burning it all down and tossing open cages full of green blob ghosts and a few transparent, weakly glowing human ghosts. Stronger ghosts, glowing brightly, joined them in a few places with battle cries and maniacal laughter.

They split up and took down all the bases and patrol stations on their own, sweeping through the city like vengeful shadows. 

By dawn, the GIW were in shambles, without any bases or equipment, and rounded up for arrest. 

Cass was the one to find Danny and his family; his parents were forced to create weapons for the GIW under threat of Danny and Jazz’s torture. Danny was locked up like an animal and studied. Jazz had restraints on, including a muzzle, and a bloodthirsty rage in her eyes. Apparently, she had put up the most fight and, while being studied for repeated exposure to ectoplasm and radiation, started biting people.

The Fentons are big names in this conflict. Tim makes the executive decision to burn one of his out-of-state safehouses so they can hide and recover in peace, then promptly moves them into it as soon as the EMTs give them the all clear. They’re gone by the time the sun is rising over the horizon, and the curious Amity Parkers that have gathered behind the blockade of police cars have to be reassured that the Fentons have been taken away for their protection, not for further abuses. Even then, tensions are high and the locals are clearly prepared to start rioting now that they have a chance to fight back.

As vigilantes, they’re not meant to interact with cops much. Perhaps it’s simply their experiences in Gotham that keep them at a distance, disappearing into the neighborhood the moment attention shifts off of them. Either way, Duke is hurrying out of Amity Park with the rest of the team on his heels, eager to return to Gotham and follow up on their own leads to make sure the GIW is properly gutted and dismantled. 

Duke heads off for the Hatch as soon as they reach Gotham, hoping to shed the suit and finally be able to call Danny. The guilt of not noticing how bad things had gotten rolls through his stomach, and more than that, he’s missed hearing Danny’s voice. 

The first few calls go straight to voicemail. Duke leaves a quick message asking Danny to let him know how he’s doing as soon as he can talk. 

Then he goes for a shower and to change into civilian clothes, prepared to make his way to Wayne Manor to let Bruce know how everything went. And hopefully distract him from his Disappointed Father/Leader Lecture about taking on missions behind his back, as if Duke can’t handle himself. And also because Bruce has no leg to stand on when it comes to this. He’s fully prepared to throw that entire lecture back into his face at a moment’s notice.

The post-mission exhaustion is hitting him hard and fast. Duke has to brace himself against the wall once he’s out of the shower, resisting the urge to just lie on the floor and sleep there until he starts feeling more human. 

Somehow, he gets himself into some sweatpants and a plain shirt, pulls on a pair of mismatched socks, and begins gathering his things so he can get to the Batcave. 

He’s in no state to be driving. Maybe someone would be willing to take him there?

Just as he reaches for his phone to thumb through his contacts and see who he can bother, it buzzes in his hand. Duke blames the way he jumps on his exhaustion, then blinks his tired eyes to squint at the name that pops up onto the screen.

Danny.

All at once, his exhaustion fades away. A rush of adrenaline runs through him as he scrambles to accept the call, already pacing around the room so he doesn’t fall asleep. 

“Hello?”

There’s a moment of silence, then the exhale of a breath that turns to static over the call. “Duke,” Danny’s tired voice says. “Duke…”

“You doing okay? I couldn’t get to you before you and your family had to leave and go into hiding, but I’ve been worried about you, man.”

“I’m good. We’re all fine, now. Fentons are strong, you know? We’ll bounce back in no time.”

From what he’s heard about Danny’s family, that’s most definitely true. He’s seen the pictures of walls Jack Fenton has burst through with his body. It’ still hard to believe that no one in the family is a meta, outside of Danny.

“You need anything? I can get it to you, just say the word. Anything at all.”

Danny hums, then asks with a playful note in his voice, “Anything?”

“Anything.”

“I need you. How fast can you come meet me? I’ll even pay for express delivery.”

Duke laughs, so relieved at hearing the lightness return to Danny’s voice that he feels weak in the knees. “It’ll be at least two days. I gotta sleep and debrief with Batman before I can see you. It’s gonna take some time to get out of Gotham again.”

“Maybe I can go to you, instead,” Danny suggests. “Fly over and be there is less than an hour.”

“Are you in any shape to be flying right now?”

“I’m fine! Already healing and everything,” Danny insists.

“It might be dangerous if any rogue GIW agents go after you.”

“Well,” Danny says, “That’s why I need to get to my knight in shining armor sooner rather than later, right?”

Duke bites his lip to fight back a smile, blinking his eyes forcefully to keep them from closing under the heavy weight of exhaustion. “Does that make you a damsel in distress?”

“I mean, I did need rescuing, so I guess? I’m not much of a damsel, but I could put on a pretty dress for you. It’ll be like playing pretend when we were kids.”

“Oh, man, I kinda miss those poofy dresses. I think I could still rock on, put it on top of the armor when I go out for patrol.”

Danny snickers. “Signal: the most well dressed vigilante in Gotham.”

“That’s me, baby!”

The last of the agonizing fear that’s choked him since he first talked to Dash finally melts away. Danny’s fine now. Everything’s okay; the GIW are done for and there’s plenty of people willing to look out for the Fentons. This will never happen again.

“Hey,” Danny says, voice suddenly turing more serious. “Send me your location. I wasn’t joking when I said I could fly over to you. And before you say anything! I do need it; Jazz and my parents are smothering me and I just need to get away from everything and pretend all of this never happened.”

The admission softens Duke, makes him shove away everything that tells him this is a bad idea, that Danny needs more rest first, that having Danny fly over alone and without warning any of the Bats fills Duke with anxiety. 

He does miss Danny. More than he can put into words.

“Yeah, okay,” he says at last. “Come meet me, Danny.”

He texts Danny the location of the Hatch before common sense tells him to be more careful with his base of operations. Not that it matters, anyways; if there’s anyone in the world he trusts with everything, it’s Danny. 

Then he sends the Bats a quick text saying he’s crashing in the Hatch and to not bother him until the sun is fully up two days from now. Oracle gives him a thumbs up emoji, which is a good guarantee that she will personally see to it that no non-emergency messages interrupt his rest and recovery time.

Duke has no idea how long it will take Danny to get to the Hatch, so he putters around, cleaning up the space and straightening it out in an attempt to keep busy enough that he doesn’t crash. Travel really takes it out of him. It’s one of the cons of being born and raised in Gotham: he doesn’t have the stamina to travel outside of it, especially when they were there and back in less than three days.

Thank god for Tim’s many motorcycles and his tendency to see the speed limit as a weak suggestion that can be ignored while on a mission.

Ultimately, the call of sleep is too strong to resist. 

One moment, Duke is sorting through files on the Hatch’s computer, and the next moment, he’s face down on a bed with his face shoved into a pillow. 

Blearly, he manages to pull his phone out of his pocket and send Danny a typo-ridden text that hopefully gets across the message of might be asleep so just come in, don’t wait for me to answer the door.

He’s out like a light as soon as it sends. The last thing Duke registers is his phone dropping out of his hand and falling against the mattress with a little bounce.

When he begins to wake up, something’s changed. As much as he wants to go back to sleep, awareness comes back to him slowly and Duke forces himself to claw his way out of unconsciousness to figure out what, exactly, is bothering him so much. Until he figures out what’s changed in the room, he won’t be able to sleep because he’ll be worried about someone breaking in.

His mind comes back online long before his body does. It’s only when he tries to move that Duke realizes he’s no longer alone on the bed; there’s someone wrapped up in his arms, body temperature a little too cool to be a normal human.

Blinking open his eyes, Duke looks down at the head of messy black hair and feels Danny’s soft breath ghost across his chest. 

“Danny?” he manages to say, voice rough with sleep. 

Danny hums and doesn’t move.

“Hey, look up. Let me see if you’re really alright.”

“Mmm, no,” Danny mumbles, burrowing his face into Duke’s chest some more. “‘m sleepy.”

A good argument. Duke is also sleepy. 

“Fine,” he says, “Check in the morning, then. G’night, Danny.”

“Night, Duke. Thanks for saving me.”

He tightens his grip on Danny, contentment burning warm in his chest. “Always, Danny. I’ll always save you.”

That’s why he’s a hero, after all. To save others, to reach a hand out to everyone the way he needed when he was younger. To keep the people he loves safe. To make sure Danny always finds a way back to him. 

This is what makes all the pain of this lifestyle worth it.

Danny makes everything worth it.

(@yourlocalcorviddad tagging to make sure you see this!)

[heylorrain]

TW: All of them. Mainly Infertility issues.

The damaged one from Lorrain to Ominis

I feel at a trial, my nails digging on my knees.  waiting for your harsh and inevitable verdict. before I rot in your oblivion.  I can feel our thin red thread fraying. As I wait for your response,  for the first time, I can’t read you. It 's already dusk. Your silence speaks volumes.  And Gods, I don’t blame you,  How could I ever?  I’m a broken woman, if that’s even what I am. Forgive me for being this way, for in every lifetime I'll waste your gift. I wish I could carry, hug, kiss, the fruit of our love. I’m sure they would have had your eyes, those two precious stars I’d always loved. I wish I wasn’t broken.  I wish I could’ve been normal.  But I’m not.  I feel your longing for fatherhood.  I wish I could give it to you.  To grant your yearning, I really wish I could. I hate myself for not being able to.  Around us, families are growing,  Their legacies expanding,  We are the consenting uncle and aunt But that’s all we are.  That’s all I will ever be, I’ve poisoned my body in silence,  Trying twisted ways to give you  what you cry in secret. But nothing has worked.  I wish my womb could be a home,  even if it’s just one time,  One chance is all I dream of.  But I know it won’t happen.  I feel at a trial, my nails digging on the table.  waiting for your answer.  Out of all your options, why did you choose me? The broken one,  The damaged one.

From Dusk to Dawn from Ominis to Meva Lorra.

I feel you distant,  What has made you think you can only tell me your sorrows when you’re at your breaking point? I’m in disbelief, not because of the news I’ve long known but because you’ve carried them alone What made you think I wouldn’t be willing to carry them with you? It 's already dusk. I can hear your teeth grinding,  your foot stomping repeatedly on our floor What made you think I’ll agree to what you’re asking me? Between you, and the rest of the world,  I’ll always choose you, whatever that path is, wherever it leads,  before anything and anyone, there’s always you.  I feel your head turn every time we pass crowds,  your eyes landing on the little ones,  running and laughing, and I might be blind but, What made you think I cannot see through you?  There’s nothing to be fixed,  because there’s nothing broken,  What made you think that women  are only the ones who bring life into this world? I feel your longing for motherhood, I know you’ve felt mine as well. But I do not wish it if it’s not with you. I beg you, don’t feel like an intruder when we’re around others.  I feel you sinking, your light disappearing.  We are the consenting aunt and uncle,  and I’m fine being just that, with you. We could travel the world, alone together and have that bothy in the woods you’ve always wanted. Stay out late waiting for the mooncalf to do their dance,  and don’t do the dishes ‘till Monday. Fine, I’ll let you teach me how to ride a broom,  only if you let me teach you how to cook. I crumble at night because of what you’re doing to yourself, your body doesn’t deserve nothing but cherish and love, your entire being is sacred and ethereal to me,  What made you think I’ll want to change anything from it?  I’ll walk by your side, every step of the way,  If you stop, I’ll squeeze your hand and wait for whenever you’re ready If you lay down, I’ll lay down next to you and humm that melody you enjoy so much. I’m not moving, even if it rains or snows inside you,  because your hands are mine to hold,  your lips are mine to kiss,  your body,YOU, the only delight in this world I crave all day everyday.  I feel like you’re gone, spiraling down your thoughts,  come back to me, please,  There’s nothing to choose from, it has always been You. The kind woman,  The lovin woman.  I'll be with you, every dusk and every dawn of our lifes I'll hold you when things go wrong I'm right here.

Reference from sketches on my pinterest as always

[thequeenofthewinter]

Work-in-Progress Wednesday

Uh, hi hello. It's me once again on a Wednesday afternoon. I haven't been able to pluck at much of my writing lately, but you can have most of what I have been able to write in the last week. Let the torture begin...

Tagging: @starfleetteddybear @dirty-bosmer @the-bear-and-his-sunbird @skyrim-forever @caughtnyact @theoneandonlysemla @draco-illius-noctis @moriche @guacamolleee @theyearningghoul @aldisobey @sylvienerevarine @paramortality @razildor @redheadsramblings @holdingontojupiter @hedwigoprah @crimsen-khalessi and anyone else out there who I know is writing. I just tagged every moot that the two remaining brain cells I have can remember. (If I missed you, it's not because I don't love you. It's because I have been running around since 9am and my day doesn't finish until 7pm.)

Perhaps in hindsight it would have been better if she had told Emmrich of her nightmares. Then again, she thinks as she sits hunched over a book next to Eleanore, it also might not, especially considering some of the more recent details which have emerged in them. A shiver rolls down her spine as she remembers the phantom feeling of his lips against her neck.

“What are you thinking about?” Eleanore elbows Iris. “You’ve been reading the same page for the past half hour, and I know you’re not that slow.” 

“Nothing much, just about my upcoming test, planning classes…how infuriating you are.” A teasing smile slides onto her face.

“You seem to be thinking pretty hard for it to be about nothing.”

Iris’ quill scrawls across the page in a series of tightly-coiled spirals, a manifestation of the turmoil she feels broiling on the inside. How long has this been going on now? How many dreams can she count which have either woken her up in cold sweat or drenched in an entirely different sense? Aroused and left only to the relief of her daydreams of Emmrich’s—

The nib breaks through the surface of her parchment leaving an inky spatter.

Eleanore’s eyes widen. “Alright, spill before you ruin the tables and Audric bans us from working in the library.”

As color works its way up onto Iris’ cheeks, she knows that there is no way she is getting out of this unscathed and without a tremendous amount of teasing from her. She may as well go bury herself under the Necropolis’ floor. The epitaph will read, Here lies Iris Ingellvar, diligent Mourn Watcher and daughter of no one. Died from being badgered about her non-existent love life.

“Go on.” She bats her lashes. “You have my undivided attention especially when you are blushing oh so prettily. Is it Emmrich? It’s Emmrich isn’t it. Has he bent you over his desk yet after—”

“Eleanore! I—”

Her friend's only response is a raise of a brow. “Well, did he?”

“He absolutely did not, and I wouldn’t have let him even if—”

“Mmhmm.” Eleanore looks her in the eye, straightening herself and throwing back her shoulders to copy Iris’ posture. “I’m Iris, and I am pining after Emmrich Volkarin. All I can think about are his sexy hands and what they’d do to me. Man wears far too much tempting jewelry on them. I want him. Now.”

“That’s not—”

“Don’t even try to tell me it’s not. What were you thinking about earlier? Hm? Tell me it wasn’t him, and I will eat this book.” She picks up the heavy tome on spiritual exorcism in front of Iris.

“I—”

“You can’t, can you?” A self-satisfied smirk stretches across her lips.

[secrets1n]

I am starving for more Habit. Which has me thinking about things Habit might do to you with his mouth

HABIT using his mouth, tongue, and teeth on you is an absolute given in his book. (18+, f!reader)

just imagine the sight of him. HABIT situating himself between your legs, his hands keeping you pinned down with his nails threatening to leave imprints while his teeth dig into the supple skin of your thighs.

a masterpiece, that’s what he calls you. that’s what he makes you out to be — with his love bites, with his marks drawing blood from your skin, and with the arousal seeping from you because of him.

HABIT likes to take his time if he’s able to. teasingly and methodically draw his tongue across your folds, humming entwined with the whimpers falling from your lips with every practiced caress. he’ll dig his thumbs into the bones of your hips, forcing your eyes down onto him while he just grins, then greedily sucks against your clit.

and how could you ever think that he’s just going to let you off with only one orgasm? absolutely not. HABIT will keep you spiraling downwards just to be coiled up again with his mouth and fingers until you’re practically sobbing, pushing against his head from overstimulation and feeling your body go numb from his touch. only then will HABIT back off, laughing cockily down at your spent body while he greedily sucks his fingers into his mouth, not wasting a single drop of the way you taste.

[infiniteorangethethird]

Every time I see a description of autistics and their routines, esp ones aimed to make allistics understand better, I feel like my experiences as an actually autistic person are completely misrepresented by it. And it's entirely possible that it's just me always finding posts that weren't meant for me specifically, but I've never found anyone talk abt autistic routines and be like "yep, that's me, that's how routines feel to me".

It sometimes feels like that even the most well-meaning of posts or articles or whatever boil down to the idea that, at the end of the day, an autistic person's routine doesn't serve any "real" purpose. That routines are just what we got used to over time, and as such they bring us familiarity and comfort, but beyond that familiarity and comfort they are senseless and pointless. That you should respect an autistic person's routine (so long as it's not harming anyone) - despite it being obviously nonsense.

And to be clear, I don't think there's anything wrong with routines "just" for the sake of familiarity and comfort, and I do agree that you should respect ppl's boundaries even if they don't make sense to you. This isn't the problem. My issue is that every time I take a look at my own routines, I could take each and every part of it and tell you exactly what specific purpose it serves and why it cannot be removed without serious negative consequences.

For example. I tend to eat at the same times every day, because my body sucks at telling me properly when I'm hungry and sticking to time instead of bodily sensations allows me to ensure I eat properly. I always go through my morning routine the same way because "morning routine" is a lot easier to remember than remembering each and every element of getting ready, individually, every morning. I take the same route to work every time because paying attention to my surroundings is extremely taxing, and walking the familiar path lets me turn off my mind and let my instincts instead of conscious decisions direct me.

And this perspective changes why I might be upset about changes in routine as well. It's not just upsetting because it's unfamiliar and scary, it's upsetting because the consequences can be downright painful. If I don't eat on time I might forget to eat at all and could end up in a too-hungry-to-eat spiral that can take days to escape. If my morning routine is messed with I am almost certain to forget at least one step of it, which, depending on the step, can mess with my entire rest of the day (for instance, forgetting to pack my bottle and not being able to drink as a result).

So much of the advice I see floating around regarding these routines seems to be of the belief that they don't actually stem from anything besides habit, and as such the negative reaction to deviation from these routines is purely emotional (and irrational). Even in the better cases that don't just outright dismiss this emotional reaction as something to be ignored, there's still this undertone that the emotional reaction can be culled and autistic ppl can be taught how to be more adaptable and how to let go of these routines, by showing them how to handle the emotional reaction better.

And while I don't necessarily think this is bad advice (it can be really helpful esp as an autistic person to figure out ways to step outside your already rather small comfort zone, so advice like this is actually greatly appreciated), but I really wish there was more acknowledgement of routines that are based on more physical and practical stuff and can't be changed with determination and patience alone. That sometimes the emotional reaction is completely rational and justified, and that some routines can't really be changed without facing some incredibly negative consequences.