#but still doing their damn best to ensure the survival of as many of their people as possible

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Daddy’s Home (Dom!Gojo x Sub!Black!Fem!Reader 18+ One Shot)

“Daddy’s home, baby. Now take your fucking clothes off.”

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Black!Fem!Reader

Synopsis: It’s been 3 years. You believe your fiancé is dead. You’ve been attempting to move forward in your life without him there beside you. You try to grieve properly in order to move on….until he comes home. And he’s more than ready to make up lost time.

Warnings: MANGA SPOILERS; Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Grief; Mentions of Depression, Death & Suicide; Alcohol/Drug Use; Feral!Gojo; Rough Sex; Ripping Clothes; Dirty Talk; Cunnilingus; Forced Deepthroating; Face-Fucking; Multiple Positions; Gojo Giving You Deep Dick; Breeding Kink; Unprotected PIV Sex; Creampie; Cum Eating; Ownership; Gojo Makes You a Mommy; Aftercare; Degradation; Petnames: Baby; Little Girl; Mama; Sweetheart

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

*IMPORTANT NOTE: In the manga, Gojo is only sealed for 19 days, but in the time of the rest of the manga being written and illustrated, it was 3 years. So the timeline of his being sealed and freed will be 3 years.

Writer’s Note: I’m coping. AND celebrating my man's birthday!! The happiest birthday (and week and month) to my favorite boi! 💙💙💙 -Jazz

********

You’ve never felt such pain before.

It isn't pain that can simply be fixed with a band-aid or a kiss, like a scrape or a cut. It is a deep, cavernous, emotional pain that you have never experienced before...not before losing your fiance. The man you adored and cherished. Your best friend. Your soulmate. Your sunshine peeking through the dark, gray clouds.

But since losing him, all your days are washed with gray. You can't stand any sunny days now, knowing that he loved them and would want to do something–anything–to seize them. "C'mon, baby, let's go get some ice cream!" he'd cheerfully shout. Or "let's go biking" or "wanna take a walk in the park with me?"

Now, all you do is lay in bed and watch the days go by, the pain you feel too much. You've never experienced something so profound and intense. It causes you to cry every single morning into the night until the pink of dawn comes again.

It's been like this for three years now since you lost him forever. It still feels weird to say that: forever. You thought you'd have forever with him, but it was ripped away from you all that time ago during the Shibuya incident. It was a bloody war, from what you've heard; a massacre. So many innocent people perished.

The lives that were spared were among the other Sorcerers and his students, including Nobara who managed to survive Mahito's attack . You visited her all that time she spent in the hospital after the attack as the doctors worked to save her eye. In the end, she lost it, but gained a false one just last year that looks exactly like her real one.

Nanami also survived. It was a close call, apparently. Yuji had found him and attacked Mahito before Nanami could face his violent death. Half of his face and body are completely scalped, but he doesn't try to cover them. They are his battle scars; a reminder of what he is fighting for. He still resides in Japan though you've all been telling him to retire and go to Malaysia. "Not until he's back," he'd fiercely say. "I'm not resting until he's out of that damn box."

He checks on you as do Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara, to ensure you're okay. Shoko spent the night with you a few times until you firmly told her to stop. "I'm not gonna slit my wrists or anything," you scoffed. Shoko pursed her lips at you as she smoked her cigarette on your balcony. "No, but you might drink yourself to death first," she mumbled.

And yes, you have been drinking. You've also been smoking. Weed and alcohol are all that cure the pain, at least for a little while. You don't have to see his dazzling smile or snow-white hair behind your eyelids when you fall asleep high as a kite. It's unhealthy and you know that, but what else can you do?

You have nothing to live for anymore. Your fiance is gone. You try to tell the others this, who have worked tirelessly all this time to find a way to bail him out. 'It's been three years!' you think. 'If they haven't found a way yet, they never will. He is never getting out of that box or the Prison Realm.' And that is the sad, horrible truth.

You curl yourself into a ball now, wrapped in one of his crisp button-up shirts, naked underneath. It is twelve in the afternoon. You haven't eaten or gotten dressed, only showered and brushed your teeth (after Shoko sent you a text to do so). Tears stain your eyes which still sting from your sob session the night before. "Satoru," you whimper into the pillows. "Come back to me, please."

You know this isn't possible, but you wish to God or whoever makes miracles happen that it was. How can you live in a world, in a realm, where your love isn't here? You were going to get married, in spring of 2024. He had promised you after a wonderful night of dinner, champagne, and dancing on a private yacht he ordered just for you two.

When he got down on those long legs, one knee propped up, and presented you with that box, you could feel yourself melt. "After all of this is over," he promised, "after I make this world safer for you, let's do it, baby. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you." He gave you that big, gigawatt, hopeful smile as you felt tears pour down your cheeks, ruining your makeup. "You up for seein' this face forever?" he joked.

That night, you answered him. Over and over again, making love until morning. Until you were both spent and ached so good from twisting your bodies in a hundred different positions. Until your thighs were soaked with his cum and all you could see, hear, and smell was him.

You were more than prepared to spend the rest of your life like that with him...and now, that's all gone. A fresh wave of grief overcomes you and you grip the pillow, stuffing your face into it. Once again, you say the same words you've been saying for three years like a prayer: "Satoru, come back to me. Please."

BANG!

The sound is so loud and abrupt that it scares you. You sit up immediately, your heart lurching into your throat. You look around the room only to find it empty, but then hear the familiar sound of the front door closing from downstairs. Someone is here. But who?

"H-Hello?" you call. "Shoko, is that you?"

No answer. It is completely silent all except for the birds chirping outside your window which only adds to the ominous feeling of the situation at hand. You never gave Shoko a spare key to your home and you're the only one who can get in and out. So who the fuck is in your house?

You then hear the familiar sound of footsteps coming up the stairs, one by one, as if the stranger is taking his sweet time doing so. You instantly reach for your phone to dial 911 and retreat to the bathroom across the room, but stop when a shadow crosses the bedroom wall, and then a figure appears in the threshold of the bedroom you used to share with your fiance.

You stare at the figure hard as if it's difficult for you to decipher it, but it's impossible not to know who it is. You can tell from how tall he is as he stands there, towering over you in the doorway. You can tell from his lean body sinewy with muscles under his black clothes. You can tell from his pale skin, snow-white hair you used to love to run your fingers through, and iced, blue eyes that stare right through you.

That same lovely, adorable, sexy, dazzling grin crosses his pillowy-soft, pink lips as he stares at you from across the room. “Honey, I’m home," Gojo chirps as if he just walked in from a hard day at work.

You stare him down, afraid to move or speak in fear of ruining this or exposing it for what it is: a trick. A mirage. A hallucination caused by too much alcohol or weed (unlikely, but still). Is this a dream? Are you dead? Did you go ahead and drink yourself to death like Shoko foresaw?

He walks toward you, slowly as if to not frighten you further. You stay on the bed, afraid to move. You're trembling. He finally stops just at arm's length from you, that same smile and warm gaze still on his face. “T-Tarou?” you whisper, finding your voice.

“In the flesh," he replies in that easy, sexy drawl that you've always loved. So careless. So laidback. His expression grows concerned, his brows drawn together. “How ya doin’, baby?” he asks. Your heart flips at the sound of that pet name. You haven't heard it in so, so long.

You scamper towards him, wanting to get closer to him, but then stop, afraid to. He doesn't react to either, still standing there and waiting for you to process this. “No,” you whisper. “This isn’t real. I’m just high as fuck right now.” You put your hands in your hair, gripping the dark coils/braids/locs/curls/twists harshly.

You know that this isn't possible. You haven't touched any weed since yesterday morning, wanting to give yourself a break. Gojo whistles as he nods at the bong sitting on your bedside table. “Well, judging from that, probably so. You got any left? I could use it after the 3 years I’ve had.”

You don't answer. You barely even breathe, afraid to do so in fear of putting a tear in the fabric of this moment and ripping it apart. You still can't tell if this is really happening. Is it a trick of your cursed grief making you see shit? Could it be that a Curse is here and has somehow taken over Gojo's body, and now, they're here to kill you? You would rather take that than this uncertainty.

Gojo suddenly raises his hand toward you as if to touch you, but doesn't. “Touch me," he encourages. Though hesitant, you lift a tentative hand and stroke your fingers over his veiny arm. All you feel is solid, soft, warm skin. Gojo's smile gets bigger. “See? I’m real. It’s really me, baby.”

And suddenly, the fog over your mind has been cleared and you can see clearly. All is for certain, including that the man standing here is your man. Your 'Tarou. “It’s really you,” you whimper. “Oh, my God….oh, my God!” You can't stop the tears or the blubbering as relief and utter joy wash over you.

Gojo opens your arms for you and he barely budges as you shoot into them, not even making him stagger. You bury your head in his chest, breathing in his scent and moving your hands over his back muscles. “I’ve missed you,” you sob. “I’ve missed you so, so much, Satoru! It’s been awful!”

He holds you tight to him, solid and absolutely real. “Shhh, I’m sorry, Y/N,” he coos. “I would’ve come back sooner, but I had to take care of some things.”

You pull away to look up at him through your blurred vision. He doesn't appear hurt or bruised. In fact, he looks the exact same he did before he was sealed in that box. “What do you–“

“And I’ll tell you everything after I get some pussy.”

You pause, processing his abrupt words. “What?” you scoff. “But what about all that's happened? How'd you even escape the Prison Realm? Have you eaten or drank? What about–"

Gojo, impatient, presses a long finger to your lips. “Forget about all of that right now, Y/N. Worry about the fact that you haven’t seen me in three years and you’re dying for me to put you in the mattress again.”

Then that familiar, dark, lustful look crosses his eyes like an eclipse, taking over him. “I think you’re understanding me clearly," he says, his voice dipping an octave lower than usual. “Daddy’s home, baby. Now take your fuckin’ clothes off.”

You stare at him hard, wondering if he is serious. You haven’t seen him in three years. You have so many more questions to ask him. Like what did he do while sealed? Did he see Yuji, Megumi and Nobara before he came? Were they the ones that got him out? Is he okay? 

But from the way he is staring you down like he wants to take a piece of you, you can tell that all of those questions will have to just wait to be answered. Plus, the last one is already answered for you: no, he isn’t okay. He is fucking feening for you. He needs you. You can tell from the way his hands grip you closer and from the feeling of his semi hard-on pressing into your thigh from inside his pants. 

You can’t imagine what three years without sex was like and you don’t want to. So you’re more than happy to give him whatever he is looking for right now. “O-Okay, Gojo,” you softly stutter. Your hands move to his top to unbutton it, first starting at the bottom. But your hands fumble and shake as if this is the first time you’re doing this for him. 

“Takin’ too long,” Gojo growls, impatient. Tearing your hands away from his shirt, he immediately rips the $1,000 top off of you, revealing your laced bra and panties underneath. You squeak as he does so, alarmed. “Gojo, your shirt!” you gasp, especially when the buttons fly all over the place. 

“Forget the fuckin’ shirt,” he says, his voice all but a rasp. "I’ll get a new one. It’s not fair how sexy you look in my clothes, sweetheart.” He presses his lips to your chest, breathing you in for a moment. “God, I’ve missed your smell,” he sighs. “I’ve missed how you feel. I’ve missed you so, so much.” He pulls away then, looking down at your hand. “And you’re still wearing the ring,” he points out. 

You look down at your hand where the sterling silver engagement ring sits, its diamonds sparkling at you. “Of course,” you whisper. “I never took it off. I’m engaged to you.” You want to tell him that you always dreamed he’d come back, that you wanted him to see you with it when he did. 

“So there’s been no one else?” he suddenly asks, his eyes sizing you up. “You haven’t been with any other man besides me?” Immediately, you shake your head. “No, Daddy,” you whisper, immediately falling back into the soft, obedient, submissive state that you always slide into with him as if it’s natural to you. And it is. He makes you feel so safe and loved and kept. It’s impossible not to do so all for him. “There’s been no one,” you say. “No one can ever make me feel the way you do.” 

A crooked smirk crosses Gojo’s lips that has you quivering in between your thighs. “So one has played with this body but me?” he asks. “No one has played with that pussy but me?” Again, you shake your head, your breath becoming short and labored. His eyes seem to dark even more, becoming an ocean blue. “That’s what I wanna hear,” he whispers. Then his lips are finally, finally, on yours, his tongue dancing and swirling with yours, creating a wet, sloppy, feverish kiss that takes your breath away. 

You moan wantonly into his mouth, wrapping your arms around him. Oh, how you’ve missed this. How you’ve only prayed to feel these lips again. At some point during the dizzying kissing session, Gojo pulls his clothes off, breaking apart from you to strip himself of his shirt, pants, and shoes, leaving himself in his designer briefs that look way tighter than usual.

Actually, now that you’re noticing it, his entire body looks buffer than usual. Gojo has always had muscles but was leaner three years ago. Now, his muscles are more defined, pushing up against his shirt when he has it on. 

He smirks at your wandering eyes. “Something you like, mama?” he purrs. He takes your hand, running it over his hard abs and chiseled abs where his pink nipples are hard for you, ready to be sucked. “Something…different?” 

“It’s just…you’re so…” You shudder in delight as he slides your hand down his stomach that you could bake cookies on. “Big,” you decide, running your free hand up his forearm. “You don’t have much to do in the Prison Realm except work out and masturbate,” he chuckles. “I wanted to be bigger and stronger for you when I was finally free. And I wanna let you know something, baby.” He leans in then, pressing his lips against your ear. “It’s all yours,” he whispers. “This body…this cock…everything. All of it is yours.” 

You shudder again as his dirty words swirl in your mind. He pulls away, smirking at you. “Lemme show you what I mean.” Then, instantly, he is snapping off your bra and flinging it away before his lips and hands are latching to your nipples. He sucks and licks at your hard, brown nipples like a hungered man, his hands groping the sensitive globes and pinching your nipples with his long, piano fingers. “Look at these beautiful fuckin’ titties,” he says, more to himself than to you. “I’ve missed my girls so much.” 

Your head falls back and your mouth opens, captured by the pleasure he is giving you. “S-Satoru,” you whimper. Every graze of his teeth and lick of his skillful tongue has your pussy gushing. You haven’t been this wet in three years! Actually, you haven’t even been horny in three years. No one has ever been able to arouse you the way Gojo can. 

You find yourself rolling your hips against his knee as your hands grasp his broad shoulders for balance and leverage. Gojo hums as you grind your wet, panty-covered pussy against his knee, smirking up at you playfully. “Grindin’ that pussy on my leg, hm?” he tuts. “Even after three years, you’re still a little slut. I wouldn’t have it any other way though.”

He gives one of your titties one last suck before he shoves himself away from you. You stare up at him, confused, while he only gives you a stern look. “Get on the bed and open your legs. I need that pussy in my face.” 

You are helpless to refuse him, especially when your pussy is begging and sobbing for the same thing. You quickly hurry onto the bed and sit back onto your elbows as you open your legs for him. Gojo is between them immediately, his hands ripping off your panties as if they are no more than strings. As soon as he gets a look at your puffy, wet pussy leaking for him, he groans and his cock visibly twitches in his pants. “Shit,” he hisses. “I’ve missed her too.” 

And then he’s giving in like he would the cleanest, purest, bluest waters, his hands under your ass to give him a better angle and a better way to plunge his tongue deeper inside you. He laps and sucks at your pussy and sensitive clit, his tongue flicking and swirling around your hole like he needs it. Craves it.

You grab at his hair, pushing his head deeper into you as you wail and moan to the heavens above. “O-Oh, my God!” you cry out to the ceiling. “‘Tatoru, yes, more! Please give me more! Don’t stop!” 

Your voice bounces off of the bedroom walls, unbound and unashamed. You haven’t had this kind of pleasure––so intense and explosive––in so long. His wet mouth and soft lips feel so good. His nose brushing against your clit as his tongue swirls inside your pussy is beyond. You feel incredible…too incredible. Gojo works his mouth fast, pulling you quickly towards an orgasm that gathers in your core and threatens to tumble down over you.

“Wait, Daddy!” you protest. “Slow down! ‘M gonna cum too fast!” 

Gojo’s blue eyes peer up at you through long, white lashes as he continues to lap at your cunt. “Do it,” he demands. “‘Cause I’m finna make you cum as many times as I want to. I’ll make you cream your pretty brains out till dawn, baby. I’m making up for lost time.” 

He ducks back down, going faster, and even adding his long index and middle fingers inside of the wet, tight depths of your pussy. Your walls clench around him instantly as he expertly finds your G-spot and begins gliding his fingers up against it, encouraging you to cum with every stroke of his fingers and tongue. “Do it,” he orders. “Cum for me. Cum around my fingers and my tongue, gorgeous. I’ve got you. I promise.” 

And you know he does. He grips one of your hips with one hand as he finger fucks you with the other, humming “mm-hmm” and other encouraging words that are smothered by your pussy as he drags you closer to your orgasm. When it finally breaks, it crashes onto you like a wave, causing your back to arch off of the bed like you’re experiencing an exorcism. “Fuck!” you sob as you feel your body shake and shudder through your earth-shattering orgasm. 

Moans of Gojo’s government and curses to the stars leave your lips as Gojo carries you through your mind-blowing, body-shaking, earth-quaking orgasm…and even after, when your body aches and your heart is pounding, he continues to eat your pussy.

He continues to lap and suck at your lips, cleaning up the cum that dribbles out your hole and down your asscrack. He licks there too, moaning breathlessly and wantonly as he does. Finally, when he is good and satisfied, he pulls away from you and sits back onto his hands, breathing heavily with his chin and lips shiny with your juices and his saliva. 

A weak moan leaves your lips as your pussy twitches in delight and exhaustion at being stimulated. You feel so, so good. So free. You finally feel as if the sun has finally shown itself behind the gray clouds that have darkened your life for three years. You look at your man adoringly, wanting him to know how much you love him and how good he has made you feel. “Gojo,” you sigh. “That was amazing. I–“ 

“Open your mouth,” he demands. You button your lip, your words failing you immediately. You stare at him blankly, your post-orgasm brain not quite processing his words. Gojo sits up on his knees on the mattress, grabbing his cock in his pants. “You fuckin’ heard me,” he growls. “Open that slutty mouth, now. Don’t make me tell you again, little girl.” He pins you down with an intimidating look that is only intensified by his sapphire eyes. 

Once again, you can’t deny him. While still recovering from your orgasm, you open your mouth wide for him, your plump lips covering your teeth and your tongue out. Just the way he likes it. Gojo walks towards you on his knees and stays beside you as he unbuttons his pants. In one swift motion, he takes down his pants and his briefs, causing his cock to pop out. The long, thick, veiny appendage, bubbling with pre-cum from its pink head, lightly slaps you in the face, causing you to gasp. 

Gojo grabs your neck rather roughly, pulling you towards his cock without properly preparing you or waiting for you to prepare yourself. You stare down at his large dick, alarmed at how hard he is. The veins in his shaft throb as does his head that is quickly turning from a soft pink to an angry red. “Gojo, hold up–“ 

But your words are interrupted by his cock sliding between your lips. A hiss of relief leaves Gojo’s lips as he grips your neck, beginning to rut his hips deep into your mouth. “Sorry, mama,” he groans, “but I can’t be nice to that throat today. I’m just too pent-up. You understand, right?”

You can’t even answer. His cock is too thick; too big; it stretches your mouth out too wide, making your jaw hurt. But all you have to do is breathe through your nose and take it, which Gojo tells you to do so, as he begins to fuck your throat like it’s your pussy. Like it’s his own personal fleshlight. 

“Fuckin’ fuck yes!” Gojo loudly grunts, his voice completely primal and animalistic as he roughly fucks your throat. Though he has fucked your throat before, this time, it feels much, much different. He grips your hair and makes your scalp sting with how much he pulls it. He plunges your throat so fast and so hard in your sloppy throat that saliva drips down your chin and down your tits. He turns your face into his fuck toy, doing with it as he pleases. 

But though primal and animalistic, he is still completely involved with your pleasure. When you suddenly feel his fingers quickly rubbing your clit after licking his palm, your body lurches and your thighs twitch while you whine and protest feebly around his cock. “Theeeere we go,” he chuckles. “That’s what I want. Feel good with me, mama. This is where your weak, right? Right here?” 

He applies more pressure, rubbing your rosebud in time with his thrusts into your throat, his balls swinging against your chin. All you can feel, taste, and smell is him. Your senses are completely overtaken by him. “T-Tawou!” You moan around his cock. “Two mwuch! ‘M sensitive!” Your words are a muffled, jumbled mess around his thick dick, causing more spit to fall from your mouth as you try to speak. 

You go to close your legs, but Gojo’s hand yanking on your hair stops you short. “Uh-uh, sweetie,” he teasingly says. “Don't pull away. You owe me this.” He pushes your head farther down his cock, bottoming out in your mouth, causing him to moan so loud that it echoes in the bedroom. “You owe me this for stayin’ so damn sexy after so long. How is that even possible?” He questions you repeatedly as he fucks your throat harder and faster, grunting as he does so. "How's that possible, huh? Huh? Tell me, baby.” 

You are turned into a total and complete hole the more he fucks your mouth and flicks your clit, bringing you to yet another orgasm that has your thighs shaking. Finally, he releases your hair and lets you pull away, causing his cock to pop out of your mouth. “Gonna cum!” you whine, spit and cum all over your mouth. “I’m cummin’ again, Satoru!” 

Gojo stares at your pussy like a kid in a candy store as you cum once again, gushing all around his long fingers and all over the bedsheets. “Gooood girl!” he praises you. “Cum on these fingers, baby. Gimme what I want, but don't get too distracted, mmkay?” He takes his cock and slides himself back home into your mouth even as you moan and your body writhes on the bed. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” he chants, transfixed by the way your body moves and your pussy clenches. “That’s what I want. This is what I need.”

He rubs at your clit until he can feel your exhausted body jerking from the aftershocks. He finally pulls away from you then, cock and all, though he is still hard and throbbing. “I need to fuck you now,” he growls, desperation in his eyes. “And I can’t stop until I cum inside you, baby…without a rubber. Is that okay with you?” 

You blink at him, your sight slightly blurred from the two orgasms and your throat raw from it being fucked into oblivion. He must know that you will say yes. He must know that you’ll say yes to anyone he wants or needs. But yet, he still asks because safe sex has always been a priority with him in your relationship. He has always used condoms and has always made a point to not do anything involving PIV sex if he happened to run out.

But now, here he is, telling you that he needs to fuck you raw and cum inside you, possibly breeding you. And you find yourself burning for the same thing like a wildfire has lit inside you. You lean back against the pillows and open your cum-soaked thighs for him, showing him your glistening, puffy, sensitive pussy. “Yes,” you reply. “Fuck me, Daddy. Cum inside me. Breed me.” 

Gojo stares at your pussy, spread open for him like it’s spun gold. Suddenly, the loving, silly, goofy man you’ve grown to love is gone, replaced with one who is starved, rough, demanding, and merciless. It thrills and frightens you.

“Oh, you’re gonna fuckin’ get it, girl,” he growls before he grabs you, tosses you onto your back, and gets on top of you. “I’m gonna fuck you till you’re spent,” he promises as he throws your legs over his shoulders and prepares to slide deep inside of you until his balls touch your ass. 

When he says this, he means it. Baby, Gojo has you in every position known to man.

He starts first by fucking you in missionary, giving you deep, deep dick that nearly touches your soul and makes you see stars. One of his big, veiny hands wraps around your throat, squeezing gently on your windpipe, while the other pins your thigh open as his cock plunges in and out of your wet, sobbing cunt. He pounds you into the mattress, his big body pressing against yours and his hips nailing your pelvis. 

Then he has you on top in 69, his hands groping and smacking your jiggly ass while he, once again, stuffs his face in your cunt. You suck his dick in time with his tongue laps, gagging and slobbering all over his cock much to his delight. It is sloppy and dirty and messy…and you love every minute of it.

You love how his pubic hairs tickle your chin the deeper you slide him down your throat. You love how your eyes sting with tears as he tickles the back of your throat. You love the way his tongue slides from your pussy hole to your asshole, lapping at each one as if they’re the best things he’s ever tasted. 

He fucks on your back, hanging off the bed. He fucks you on your stomach, your ass tooted up while his feet are firmly planted on the bed, hammering his dick deep inside of you. He sucks you on your side, his hands cupping your jiggling breasts while his lips caress your neck and shoulder. And he makes you cum every. Single. Time. 

By the time he has you on your knees with his cock buried deep in your pussy once again and your arms pulled behind your back, your body is aching for rest and your pussy is a mushy, gushy mess around his cock. 

But still you persist, moaning and screaming at the top of your lungs the harder he fucks you. Your voice, along with his own, the creaking bedsprings, and the sound of skin slapping against skin, fills the air around you. “Yes, yes, Daddy, yes, fuck me!” you babble, your words a jumbled mess.

Gojo cackles from behind you, loving how slutty and broken you are on his cock. “You feelin’ good, baby?” he asks. “This dick makin’ you feel good? Don’t have to use those damn toys or those fingers anymore, no. You’ve got me now and I’ll take good, good care of this pussy.” 

He slams his hips harder against your ass, making it bounce and jiggle. The harder he goes, the more intense your orgasm gets and you find yourself about to have your sixth orgasm of the day…or night. Is it nighttime now? You can't tell. You’ve been at this for hours, fucking and cumming all over the bed. You don't even know what day it is anymore.

All you can think about is Gojo’s dick and cumming on it. “Shit, I’m gonna cum again!” you sob. 

Gojo’s hand circles around your throat, choking you. “Cum on this dick,” he demands. “Do it! Fuckin’ do it for me, baby!”

And you do. Like a puppet on a string being controlled by the white-haired, big-dicked man behind you, you writhe in the air and cum all over his cock. A weak, long moan leaves your lips as you come undone, all self-control leaving you. Gojo pulls out of you with a hiss, talking about how “fuckin’ tight” you are. When you’re released, your arms fall to your sides as you crumble onto the mattress, falling face-first into the pillow. Your body is hot and sweaty, your pussy is twitching, your ass is stinging from his assault on it. You are completely spent. 

Gojo leans down to kiss your forehead, smiling at your exhaustion. “Aww, is my baby tired now?” he coos. You weakly moan in response, too tired to speak. “Too bad because I still need to cum inside you. You did ask me to breed you and I’ve gotta make this count.” 

Before you can even protest, he is grabbing your weak body and forcing you onto your knees, hiking your ass up for him. He sinks into your overly sensitive, used pussy once more, drawing a moan out of both of you. You let him do as he pleases, too exhausted to fight or argue.

He takes hold of your hips and ruts into you like his life depends on it, nailing that spot again and again that makes you see the entire universe behind your eyelids. It feels so damn good. He fucks you at a breakneck pace, going faster with each second that passes. “O-Oh, s-shit!” you scream into the mattress. “F-Fuck, Daddy, f-f-u-uck!” 

Gojo’s fucking is egged on by your moans, his pelvis slamming into your ass and taking your very breath away. “Take this cock,” he groans. “Take all of this dick, baby. It’s yours. All of it is fuckin’ yours. It always was and always will be.” He hikes up his leg and fucks you on one knee, causing him to grow louder and his moans to become more desperate and needy. 

“God, I missed this!” he whines. “I’ve been fucking burning for you, baby. Needed you so, so much!” You picture him in the Prison Realm, his hand wrapped around his cock as he is surrounded by darkness and loneliness. As tears spring into your eyes, you lift yourself up onto weak arms to look back at him. “Then show me,” you whisper. “Show me how much you’ve missed me. Cum inside me, ‘Tarou, baby.” 

You begin to toss your ass back into him, meeting his every thrust. Gojo takes what you give him and serves it right back, moving in tandem with you. “You want me to cum?” he asks. You nod, moaning and whimpering as you feel his cock begin to swell inside you. “You want me to feel that pussy up?” he grunts. “Want me to make you a mommy? Want me to give you a kid? My kid?” 

He begins to pound your pussy into the mattress again, picking up speed. You can feel your last orgasm rising, ready to rip through you. “Say it to me, mama,” he demands. “Tell me you want my baby. Lemme hear it.” 

“Yes!” you cry out. “Yes, Satoru, I want your child! I wanna mother your baby!” That must please Gojo because he begins rolling his hips harshly against your ass, rutting into you like he’s trying to fit a home run. His handsome face is red and glittering in sweat, his snow-white hair plastered to his wet forehead.

“Can’t wait to see you full with me,” he groans. “Can’t wait till this tummy is round with my baby and those tits are full of milk. You’re gonna look so, so pretty carryin’ my baby, sweetheart. You’re gonna be the best mommy ever.” 

And he’ll be the best daddy ever. That is all you can think as you feel your own orgasm rising at the same time as him, like the sun and the moon rising in unison in the sky. Forever bonded. Forever together.

“Gonna cum,” Gojo warns. “Gonna cum deep inside you. You’d better cum with me too. Cum all over my cock, baby. Cum with me while I fill this little pussy up.” 

You nod and wail into the pillow, gripping it for dear life as another blinding orgasm rips through your body. Gojo fucks into your wet, cum-soaked pussy until he feels his own nut coming and he desperately fucks you to chase his high. “Cumming!” he babbles. “‘M cummin’, I’m cummin’, I’m cummin’!”

And when he fills you up, it’s explosive. It’s deep. It’s intense. It fills every part of you, filling you with warmth and the feeling of being absolutely filled to the brim. You weakly moan as you feel his cum fill your tummy, no doubt reaching your womb. He stills for a moment, plugging his cum inside you, before slowly and sloppily rocking his hips into you to fuck his cum deep into your pussy. 

When he is finally sure that you’re good and bred, he puts his hands on his narrow hips and whistles tiredly. “Shit,” he sighs. “I really needed that.” You moan in agreement. He then pulls out of you slowly, causing you to whimper quietly as your aching pussy is no longer filled.

He stares at it between your thighs, humming appetizingly. “Mmm, now that’s a sight: a pretty, fucked pussy drippin’ with my cum. Don’t mind if I do.” 

Then his mouth is between your thighs again, lapping gently at his and your cum mingled together all over your pussy and inner thighs. You arch your back for him, moaning softly at his soft, careful tongue strokes.

When he finishes, you turn to him, finding his semi-hard cock dripping with your mingled fluids. “You still got some left here, Daddy,” you coo before moving to lap up the cum you left behind on his cock. He allows it, his hand in your hair while he sighs about how good you are. 

Once you are cleaned up and all is said and done, the two of you finally lay side by side in your bed, together again at last. You curl into his chest, leaning your head against his heart and wrapping your arms around him. He welcomes it, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead “Welcome home, baby,” you whisper as you look up at him. “Now you gonna tell me how you got out?” 

He looks down at you, almost as if he forgot he was supposed to answer a bunch of your very important questions. “Oh, Itadori did that,” he explains like he’s telling you the weather. “He’s a smart kid, y’know. Say, you up for some sushi? I’m cravin’ some fish right now.” 

All you can do is laugh and kiss your man before getting the takeout menu that you keep in the nightstand next to the bed. All the important questions can wait.

For now, all you want and need is him.

THE END.

[starcrossedxwriter]

Wicked Fantasies Part 1 (MBJ x Black OC)

A/N: this started off as 3k andddddd it tripled before my eyes lol (sorry!) Enjoy!

Series Warnings: NSFW, Smut with a plot, Heavy BDSM, Dom/Sub storyline

Raven checked herself in the mirror outside Helen’s office. She knew Helen hated when they did not look presentable and perfect, even when they were just meeting with her. She prayed Helen would actually have a client for her tonight. After her abysmal first date, she needed an opportunity to redeem herself quickly. However, as she approached her office door to knock, her movements halted as raised voices filled her ears.

“This is unacceptable, Tash!” 

Raven cringed, Helen was terrifying on her good days but when she was mad, whew… she was a tornado and anyone unlucky enough to be in her path was screwed. And if she was angry at her best girl, Raven could not help but shake in her heels at what Helen would have in store for her.

“I can’t control a sick kid!” Raven heard Tasha respond, her exasperation clear in her voice. “My ex can’t take him. I don’t have much of a choice.” 

“Hold on. Come in, Raven. Stop gawking outside the damn door.” 

Raven glanced up in the corner at the camera that Helen positioned in the hallway and sighed. She should have known. She squared her shoulders and pushed in. 

“Hi, I just came to-“ 

“I know why you came,” the older woman waved her hand dismissively. “I don’t have a client for you tonight.” 

Raven’s whole body deflated with disappointment and stress. Another night and no dates. Her mind immediately went to her dwindling bank account. She could not survive many more weeks like this. She needed clients, steady ones, and fast. 

“Really? Nothing?” 

“Sorry.” Raven could tell Helen was not sorry and did not care one bit. The long timers like Tasha made her more than enough money that she did not truly need to concern herself with newbies that would likely crash and burn. And Raven knew they all expected her to do just that. But she needed to succeed, she did not have much of a choice. “It’ll pick up soon.” 

“Ok, t-thank you.” Defeated and frustrated, Raven simply turned to leave, resigned to spending the evening in her apartment when a hand grabbed her arm to stop her. 

“Wait! She can go in my place.” 

Helen’s laugh was visceral, signaling the absurdity of Tasha’s statement. “No. Absolutely not. He is one of your best customers therefore one of my best customers. I’m not a fucking idiot. Can’t send a girl who's never turned a trick before and has only been on one date to him.” 

Tasha shook her head. “Nahhh, she’s perfect. She’s his type, wide hips, a fat ass, small waist, pretty dark skin, and she has a naiveté, innocent factor he’ll eat up.” 

Raven merely stood there, getting whiplash from the onset of both compliments and insults being thrown at her as if she was not standing in the room. However, she knew she could not contribute to the conversation or lobby in either direction because she had no idea what either of them were talking about.

“Look, she’s green as fuck but he ain’t gonna want one of these snow bunnies or redbones you got runnin’ round. Look, the real is it’s her and you still make money tonight or you gotta cancel and you don’t make anything.” 

Though Raven did not know who they were talking about, she did know one thing. If he was on Tasha’s client list, he was one of the biggest fish Helen had reeled in. One night with him would not solve all her problems but it would lessen her stress. 

“I’ll do it!” She piped up immediately, her voice assured and confident as if she knew exactly what they were talking about. “I can do it. I need the money.” 

“Fine.” 

Internally, Raven could not help but cheer though she kept her excitement subdued. She knew this was not a credit to her or because Helen actually thought she would do a good job. The reality was, all she cared about was money so sending Raven would, at least, ensure the night was not a total waste. 

“But look here, you fuck this up, you’ll never get another client in this town again. Understand?” 

Raven nodded, “I won’t. I promise.” 

“Tasha, find her an outfit in the closet… something expensive so he knows she’s not a girl I pulled off the damn street. Maybe after tonight, you can afford a designer outfit or two.” 

Raven glanced down at her black body con dress. It wasn’t much, even she could admit that, nor was it new or designer like the other girls wore. But it showed off the right assets and looked good on her so she felt like that was enough.

“Thank you! You won’t regret it, seriously.” 

“Somehow I doubt that,” Helen muttered as Tasha dragged Raven out of the room. 

Raven could not wipe the giant grin off her face as Tasha led her to the closet where the girls could borrow clothes for dates. Her body practically bounced after Tasha’s as they walked. 

“Thank you so much. I owe you big time.”

Tasha waved her hand as she started rifling through the options. “Don’t mention it. Just give me 10% of what you make tonight and we’ll call it even.” 

“Deal.” Raven answered immediately, she had no idea how much she’d make or what 10% of it would be but she knew she would still have a hefty sum even after paying both Tasha and Helen their cuts. All part of the investment, she decided quietly. “So who's the client?”

“Size? Look like a 10 or a 12?” 

“Good eye. 10. The client?” She asked again. 

“Michael B. Jordan.” 

Raven’s heart dropped and her jaw nearly unhinged. “Wait wait wait. THE Michael B. Jordan?? Actor, director, Hollywood bad boy, Michael B. Jordan? ‘The MCU just created a whole phase around him in a six movie deal’ Michael B. Jordan? ‘Time’s Magazine just dubbed him our generation’s Denzel’ Michael B. Jordan? He’s the most sought after actor in the game right now.”

Tasha nodded, rolling her eyes at Raven’s fangirling. “Damn, sis. You know his whole IMDB? But yea, that Michael B Jordan. He’s a regular when he’s out here in LA. Tomorrow’s his birthday so his friends hired me for the night. Look, leave that starstruck shit at the door when you get there, he hates that shit. And he’s rough,” she added as a warning as she handed Raven a dress. 

“How rough?” She could feel desire pool at her core at the thought. She thought about all the times she and her exes would dabble in BDSM and control but none of them were ever willing to take it as far as Raven thought she wanted it. Now, maybe it was her shot to test it out. She had figured she would get a client who was into that anyway, seemed like the most popular kink among all the clients she heard about. Raven quickly slid out of her old outfit and into the new one.

“I hate coaching you new girls,” Tasha muttered under her breath as she checked her phone.  

Raven quickly corrected herself. “I-It’s not a problem! I promise. I like rough… I did some stuff with boyfriends and I actually really enjoy it so no problem. I’m just trying to figure out what to expect.”  

“He isn’t gonna actually hurt you if that’s what you’re worried about. He expects obedience and submission but he’ll respect your limit if it goes too far. But since he’s never been with you before, he’ll probably keep it vanilla. Most you can probably expect is him calling you names, maybe he’ll make you beg or spank you a couple times? He ties me up and shit and can get creative but this is a surprise so I doubt he’ll have time to plan anything all that interesting. Don’t expect any warmth… well don’t expect that from any nigga you go in dates with as a rule but I know he seems one way in interviews and shit so people think they know him. When the door closes, you’re there to play a part and serve him. That’s it. He wants control, give him that and you’ll be fine.” 

“Ok. Anything else I should know?” 

“Oh don’t call him by his name.” 

Raven’s nose wrinkled. “Ok what do I call him?” 

“You know, sir, daddy, whatever. Take your pick.”  

Raven nodded, she could tell Tasha was getting bored of her “coaching”. But she only had one last question.  

“Is it normal to be this nervous?” 

Tasha laughed. “The first time? Yea. I almost vomited the first time I went on a date. Once you get regulars, it’s not . You get to know them, they get to know you and it gets comfortable. They are paying you but you got more power and control than you’d think. But just keep your head about you. He acts like a bad boy but he’s cool people, not a bad guy for your first time. Trust me. Dress fits like a glove. You should keep it.” 

Raven turned in the mirror for a few minutes before offering Tasha a sad smile. She coveted so many pieces in the closet but Helen always insisted they be returned unless you wanted to purchase them from her. “I can’t afford it.”

“Helen won’t miss it. It's an old dress of mine I used to wear on early dates. It doesn’t even fit most of these skinny bitches.”

Raven glanced at her. “Why are you being so nice to me? Most of the girls are… awful,” she muttered the last part more to herself than to Tasha. “They wouldn’t have done a fraction of the shit you’ve done in the last 10 minutes.” 

Tasha merely shrugged. “Most of them see every girl who shows up here as competition. You’re pretty, have a nice body and all that. But no shade, you ain’t worth the energy to be mean. Besides, if I let you fail, I could fuck up my best customer. One date with Michael and I have my rent paid for months. Don’t get it twisted, I’m a bitch,” she assured her. “But I’m not a dumb bitch.” She glanced at the clock. “Aight, I gotta go. Nanny’s gonna be gone in a bit and my son is sick. Have fun and don’t mess this up cause you’ll be on your own with Helen if this shit goes left.” 

“Noted. Thanks… again.” 

Tasha chuckled. “I thought I said don’t mention it? You’re gonna have to become more of a bitch to survive around here, newbie. Cause this good girl shit? It’ll get you eaten alive.” 

Tasha gave her one last glance before leaving Raven alone with her thoughts. 

“Such inspiring words,” she mumbled to herself before she glanced at a notification on her phone. 

Dad: Car broke down. Gonna be $700 to get it fixed. Send that with the mortgage

No please, not even framed as a question. Her money was never her own, it was her family’s. And while they blew their own money on vices and frivolous shit, they always knew Raven would swoop in to foot the things that mattered. And so now, they did not even ask. They just presented their bills to the Raven ATM and she always found a way.   

Raven: I’m helping with the mortgage already… any chance you can cover that? 

Dad: Had to set aside money for Kiara’s school… she wants to go back to be a chef. It’s just $700. 

She rolled her eyes, she did not even have the cash from her date in hand yet and the money was already dwindling right before her eyes. She knew she could not say no, there was no point. 

Raven: Yea, I’ll get it to you later this week.

More motivation, she supposed, to make sure the night was flawless.

***

The club was filled with hazy smoke as Michael and his friends passed around a blunt in his section. The night was young and the drinks were flowing with no signs of slowing down. 

“Aye brah,” Steelo hit his arm softly to get his attention. “We got a surprise for you waiting at the St. Regis,” he held out the hotel room key. 

Michael whistled and dapped the man up. “My nigga!” He was appreciative. It was his first time back in LA since finishing up filming in Atlanta and he had missed burying himself in his favorite girl. He had tried to find temporary release while in Atlanta but no girl was like Tasha and that was a fact. 

Michael grabbed the card and slid it into his pocket. “Aight that’s my cue. Thanks for the birthday present. See y’all niggas tomorrow. Rest of the night’s on me!” 

He said goodbye to everyone before his security led him to his car. Despite the liquor and drugs coursing through his system, he had a clear enough head to envision what he would do to Tasha. That girl was truly up for anything and he loved every second of it. 

He put his phone on DND as he entered the hotel and went up to the room Steelo texted him. 

He did not make much noise as he entered the suite, expecting to find Tasha already naked and ready in the position he liked. Instead, he found a woman standing by the window. He studied her for a moment, in his confusion, taking in her reflection as she marveled at the penthouse suite view of downtown LA. He studied how her fingers barely touched the glass of the window as if that would give her a closer look. He could see her face in the reflection. She was beautiful, her big brown eyes filled with longing and wonder at the twinkling lights across the horizon. She was so taken by it that she did not even notice Michael until he cleared his throat. 

She turned around, Michael suddenly amending his earlier thought. She was not beautiful, that was an insulting understatement. She was painfully breathtaking. He had been in the presence of many beautiful women in his life but she surpassed them all. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I-I was j-just waiting and g-got caught up in the v-view. T-this is the perfect room, you can see the whole city. I-I’m Nicole.” She always went by her middle name with Helen and on her first date. Easy enough to remember to ensure she actually answered to it but kept her true identity to herself. 

“Where’s Tasha?” 

“Oh, umm she had an emergency. Helen wanted to make sure your birthday gift was still perfect so she sent me. I hope that’s… alright?” 

Michael watched as she chewed on her plump bottom lip, he wanted to pull it out of her teeth and bite it himself. He could also hear the nervousness and fear in her voice as if she was worried he would throw a fit about the change. And while no one compared to Tasha, he still could have a good time. Besides, they could not have picked a more perfect replacement. Her ass was delectable, his hand twitched with the urge to smack it. Her hip to waist ratio was mouth watering, he could only imagine how she would look with the deep arch he liked, how his fingers would dig into the meat of her hips as he fucked her from behind. Her breasts sat high, looking good enough to devour right then and there. It was not the girl he was expecting, true, but he would not dare complain. 

“All good. We can still have a good time together.” He noted how her entire body physically relaxed at his words, her shoulders coming down from her ears, her jaw relaxing, the tension in her tight limbs releasing.

They stared at each other for a moment before, awkwardness spreading across the room before she glanced down at herself. 

“S-sorry, I s-should probably take this off… or I can wait till you tell me? You were probably expecting me to already be… Tasha didn’t say what I should do when I arrived or how you liked… so… I’m talking a lot. Does it feel like I’m talking a lot to you? There’s probably not this much talking, is there? I’m gonna stop a-and let you talk a-and tell me how you want me.” she clamped her lips shut as she realized she was rambling. She wished she could smack herself in the forehead. This was already not going well. She did not know how she got up and performed in front of ogling men all through her college and her masters program. She had an altar ego when she danced on stage then but it seemed that vixen was nowhere to be found. And she desperately needed her again. She knew she would arrive once they actually got started. This was where her first date went off the rails, the lead up. There was a certain distance with men at the club… this lifestyle though, was the exact opposite and she did not expect how hard it would be for her. She just wanted to do the deed and go but being one of Helen’s girls required so much more. And all that pre-sex conversation and “bonding” with men she’d never talk to regularly was difficult for her. It didn’t come naturally like it did to other women. “Sir.” she added, remembering Tasha’s instructions. “Sorry.” 

Michael could not help but chuckle slightly. He could not explain why but he found her ranting and nervousness endearing. She was like a lamb trapped with a wolf, so sweet and earnest, not realizing that he was the complete opposite of both those things. It was far different from his first date with Tasha who knew exactly what to say and do. This girl seemed to not know either. But he found that charming, authentic. Other women were always playing a role. It seemed as though she showed up as her true self, beautiful, innocent, awkward and all. 

He wondered how long she’d been in the game. Couldn’t be that long,he reasoned, given how nervous she looked. However, she seemed eager to please, which was his favorite type of woman. If she was done for what he had planned, he knew he could still have fun with her. 

“You can stay like that for now. Tasha told you what I expect?” 

Raven nodded. “Yes, sir.” It sounded so odd on her tongue to call anyone sir in this day and age. However, she could not deny there was a certain arousing quality to it. 

Michael perched against the table across from the bed, gesturing for Raven to sit down on the edge of the bed across from him. “And what do I expect, Nicole?” 

“Obedience, sir.” Raven fidgeted with the hem of her dress as she watched him study her. She could feel him undressing her with his eyes. Usually, she did not wilt under the ogling stares of men. Seven years working as a stripper got her over that hang up really quick. However, something about Michael’s stare was unnerving. Not in a creepy way but in an intense one, as if he was trying to learn everything he could about her by simply staring. 

“You nervous?” 

“No.” 

“Clearly Tasha ain’t tell you everything cause one thing I don’t allow is lying. 10 spankings. Lie again and I’ll triple it.” 

Her eyes fell down to his arms, taking in the taut muscles straining against his t-shirt. She wondered how heavy handed his slaps would be. Her panties were growing damp the longer she spoke to him. She could not remember the last time a man elicited this sort of reaction from her body.

“Yes.” 

He raised an eyebrow, Raven immediately correcting her mistake. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Good girl,” Raven immediately felt her body warm at the term, she could not hide the small but distinct smile that formed. She liked hearing it on his lips. “And don’t be. It’ll be a fun night for us both. I don’t know your limits and all that shit so I’ll take it easy. Tash and I got a safe word. We can use one for the night if that would make you more comfortable?” 

Raven smiled, grateful that he was even taking that into account. “Yea, that would be great.”

“You pick.” 

“Ummm… Wakanda?” she blurted out, the first word that came to mind as she looked at him. She immediately hit herself in the head, cringing at herself. “I’m sorry, that’s so embarrassing… I’m a Marvel n-nerd and it’s just the first word that popped into my head.” 

Michael tried to hold his laughter in but could not. His laughter filled the room, causing Raven to feel slightly less embarrassed. “That is definitely a first but if that’s what you want then deal. You used a safe word before?” 

Raven shook her head. 

“When you want or need me to stop, something’s too painful or going too far, you say it and everything ends for the night. Understand?” 

She nodded again. 

“When I ask you a question, I also expect you to use your words.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Good, now that we got that shit outta the way… we can have some fun.” He folded his arms and stared at her. “Lose the dress.” 

Raven took a deep breath and stood up, her arms stretching behind her back to find the zipper of the dress. Before she knew it, the soft fabric was pooled at her feet. She smirked at how his eyes darkened with lust, how his knuckles gripped the edge of the table as if to control his own urges. Slowly but surely, the nerves in her body started to dissipate as lust replaced them. She started to repeat the motion to remove her bra but his voice stopped her. 

“Did I tell you to take that off too? 5 more.” Raven could not help the way her own eyes flashed with excitement at the thought of punishment, a fact Michael was all too keen to point out. “Oh I see… you want it… want me to spank that fat ass until it’s covered in my handprints?” 

“Y-Yes, sir.” And she did, she wanted his hands on her body as soon as possible.

“Leave everything else on and crawl to me.” 

Her voice hitched. She had never crawled to anyone. She had seen it in porn, men leading women around in leashes, treating them as pets. And while she knew she should have found it degrading and humiliating, it had only turned her on. She could never convince her past boyfriends to take it that far, the most they were willing to do was spank her or call her names. But Michael was clearly a natural at this and knew exactly what he wanted. And she was more than happy to oblige. 

She sank down to her hands and knees, the carpet roughly poking into her skin. She ignored it though as she kept her eyes trained on his, each step closer increasing the ache between her thighs. She could not remember the last time she had been this wet without anyone laying a finger on her. But it was him… his aura, his commanding being, the possessive look in his eyes that let her know she was his, even if it was only for the night. She so desperately wanted to please him and she found that, in her heart, it was not because it was her job. But because she genuinely wanted to hear him praise her. 

By the time she reached him, the march across the room feeling longer than it actually was, every pleasure sensor in her body screamed and begged to be touched, caressed, kissed, or bitten. Whatever he wanted to do, she did not care. 

She sat back on her heels, an innocent doe eyed look on her face as she stared up at him, waiting. Michael could have cum right then and there, the picture of submission beneath him and it was their first time together. 

And only time, he reminded himself. For some reason, that thought burned uncomfortably in his mind, so much so that he pushed it out just as quickly. 

“Good girl,” he liked how her whole being seemed to beam at his compliment. His hand went to her hair, wrapping his fist around her long kinky curls. 

He held tight as he unbuttoned his pants and his dick sprung into her face. Her eyes grew as she took in his size and girth, he certainly had a package to be proud of. And she yearned for a taste of him, salivating for it. She willed him to shove it down her throat. And she did not have to wait long as his head poked at her lips to part them. Her tongue flicked his head gently. He let her control it for a few minutes, the young woman opting to tease him with soft licks up his shaft that made him moan softly. 

“You’re gonna pay for that later,” he moaned as she continued working him, teasing his dick with her mouth. She spat on him, using her hand to get him as sloppy as possible. 

She looked up and winked at him. “You want me to stop, sir?” 

This girl is gonna be the death of me, he decided right then and there. Submissive but a brat… and she was a natural at it.  

“Nah you ain’t stoppin’ anytime soon.” He unceremoniously pushed into her mouth, this time pushing as deeply as he could, hitting the back of her throat. She gagged immediately, choking and spluttering as her eyes filled with tears. “Want me to stop?” 

She shook her head immediately, her eyes still showed her eagerness. 

And he did not stop again. She moaned around him, sending tiny vibrations through him that drove him wild. He did not give her a chance to breathe or catch her breath as he fucked her mouth like it was a mere convenient hole. And he could tell she loved every second of it as he watched one of her hands drift from his thigh to between her own. He immediately stopped, using her hair to yank her head back. 

Layers of spit kept her mouth connected to his dick. “You don’t touch yourself without asking, understand? That pussy’s mine. Such a desperate and pathetic little slut, already trying to cum.” 

“Y-Yes, sir.” 

As much as Michael had wanted to bust down her throat, he was ready to bury himself inside her sweet pussy. But first, he needed a taste. And before she could receive any pleasure, she had to be punished. 

“Crawl to the bed and bend over the edge. Ass in the air.” 

Her heart sagged as she realized he was not going to let her continue tasting him. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll get your taste again,” he winked at her. “Bed. Now. Make me wait another second and I’ll add another 10.” 

Raven knew his words should have had her hauling ass to the bed, however, she opted to take her sweet time. He liked submission, that was true. But it was clear he also liked a little pushback that allowed him to prove his dominance, reestablish his control. And that was one role Raven had always wanted to play. She took her time crawling back, putting an extra sway in her hips to show him her thick ass. She also knew that he could likely see the glistening of the mess between her thighs as she moved. She could feel the intensity of his stare on her as if he were burning a hole in her head. 

“Oh baby girl… the things I’m gonna do to you,” he whispered, his voice tickling her ears. 

The journey back to the bed was longer, Michael allowing her to continue her show. Finally, she picked herself up and assumed the position he demanded. 

She waited with bated breath, no movement in the room but she could still feel his eyes on her. 

“I hope you enjoyed that,” he offered as she finally felt him move toward her, her pussy clenching in anticipation. “Cause you’re gonna pay for it in a minute.” 

She braced herself for the onslaught of pain and pleasure but it never came. Instead, she felt a gentle touch, his hands gripping her ass. Lower and lower they went until one was hovering right above her pussy. She did not understand how he was so close and yet was not touching her.  

“P-Please,” she whimpered, desperate for any type of contact. 

“Please what? Want me to make you cum like the filthy slut you are?” 

“Y-yes, p-please… I-I’ll d-do anything,” her voice was filled with her desperation. She needed him like her body needed air to breathe. 

“I don’t think you deserve to cum,” he shot back. “Acting like a fuckin’ whore for a man you don’t even know. I bet I could touch you once and you’d cum… so horny, so desperate for me. Just like I knew you would be. Do you think you deserve to cum?” 

She knew the answer she had to give. “N-No, sir.” 

“Why?” 

“B-because I’ve b-been a bad girl.” 

“Yes, you have. And bad girls get punished, don’t they?” 

She nodded, her fingers getting tangled up in the comforter on the bed. “Yes, sir.” 

“Good girl. Tonight, you don’t cum without permission. This pussy and all your pleasure is mine to give and take away. When you’re ready, beg. Count ‘em out or I'll start over.” 

She cried out as he ripped her lace thong right off her body, the fabric snapping against her. He quickly followed it up with a swat to her ass that made her moan. 

“One.” 

She steadied her breathing and counted through each one. It got harder and harder to maintain the count, as he would stop at random intervals to touch her. The first time, two fingers slid into her drenched core, curling into her g-spot with every stroke. He slowly finger fucked her and rubbed her clit, her punishment almost completely forgotten as she surrendered to the bliss of his hands. She could feel her own orgasm building, her pussy clenching around his finger. However, he did not even give her a chance to beg before he stopped. He resumed spanking her, Raven almost losing count in the haze of the pain and pleasure he provided. 

“13.” 

“Are you gonna be a good slut for me? Or do I need to add more?” he asked gruffly in her ear as he put more force in each hit. 

Still sporting the strength and weight of Erik Killmonger, his athleticism, strength, and power showed through every single slap. 

“15… y-yessss… I p-promise, I-I’ll b-be good. Six… sixteen…” 

“You’ll be a good what? Say it!” he ordered as his hand rained down on her ass. She knew she would be bruised tomorrow but she could care less.

“20… I-I’ll b-be a good s-slut. A g-good whore. F-fuck me, p-please!” She begged. Her words were strangled, like a dying woman begging for life. He had her right where he wanted her, she knew that much. And she loved it. Loved every second of surrendering to him and accepting whatever he chose to give: pain, pleasure, humiliation. She did not care, she wanted every single thing and more. 

He stopped, resuming his teasing. This time, he spread her legs and ate her out from the back, his tongue doing the work of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit on her clit. 

She panted as she felt her orgasm build. She remembered his instructions and immediately started to beg. 

“P-Please let me c-cum. F-fuck… f-feels so good. Daddy… please!” She had not intended to call him daddy at any point in the night. She always hated the way it sounded and felt. However, it slipped out and she did not hate it so much on him, and neither did he. 

“Cum for daddy, baby,” he whispered, replacing his tongue with his fingers as he fucked her hard and fast. 

She buried her face in the comforter as the most powerful orgasm of her life ripped through her. So powerful, she felt tears streaming down her face, destroying her perfectly done makeup. Her thanks and appreciation for allowing her to cum was incoherent as his fingers continued to pump in and out of her.

While she calmed down, he took a moment to slide a condom on before lining himself with her wet entrance. He used his head to tease her, her entire body jolting with pleasure as he tapped it against her clit. 

“What do you want, baby?” 

Unflinching, she pushed herself to her forearms and glanced over her shoulder. “F-fuck me. Fuck me like a whore.” 

Without a second thought, he slammed his dick into her, Raven letting out a scream of pleasure that made him thankful the rooms around him were empty. His steady, powerful strokes sent her eyes rolling into the back of her head. She had never been fucked like this before, hard and rough. She had never expected pleasure quite like this when she entered the hotel room but she would thank God for it. 

The only sounds were her consistent moans and screams as Michael fucked her viciously, his hips slamming into her hips with every thrust. She used her forearms to meet every thrust, which only turned Michael on even more. She lost track of the amount of times she begged him to cum. He only did not allow her once, savoring the sounds of her pleas as she tried to hold it in. And when she couldn’t, he did not skip a beat in flipping her over and punishing her, this time with his belt, which almost made her cum on the spot again. 

He moved her around the room, fucking her on any surface he deemed strong enough to hold her weight. 

“You like how I’m fuckin’ this pussy?? You gon’ cum again, you fuckin’ whore?” 

Her knuckles were white as she gripped the table he fucked her on. Both of her legs were draped over his shoulders, allowing him to reach regions Raven did not even know were possible. She could barely think since he put her in this particular position, let alone formulate a sentence to respond. 

He hand one hand cradling her neck and head while the other held onto her back, using both as leverage to fuck her. He moved the one on her back to bring down a harsh smack to her outer thigh. 

She gasped. “Y-Yes, yes, yes! P-Please let me c-cum! D-daddy, p-please, please, please.” 

“Cum on this dick, baby. That’s it.” he continued fucking her through her orgasm, Raven left feeling as though she could not withstand much else. As she felt yet another orgasm start to build causing her to shy away from him. “Nah don’t run from me. You wanted it. Acting like a fuckin’ brat. Take this dick!” 

“It-It’s too… fuck! J-Just like that… It’s… t-too much,” she panted out, her words choppy as she still tried to run from him despite his instructions. Her body did not know if she wanted him to stop or continue, to go faster or slower. That is until she let go of the table, all of her weight naturally leaning to one side as her arm gave out beneath her.  

“FUCK,” she cried out as she felt the table slowly tip over. Because Michael was also bracing his weight on it to fuck her, they both toppled to the ground. She groaned, her eyes blurring as her head hit the corner of the tv stand next to them before she fell down to the ground. Her hand clutched the side of her head, now understanding what the phrase seeing stars meant. 

She clenched her eyes shut as she tried to give herself a minute for the pounding in her head to stop. She let out a breathy chuckle, in pain but finding the injury rather hilarious as she felt Michael try to untangle their limbs. Soon, his deep baritone joined in, their laughter filling the room as they laid on the floor. 

“You… alright?” she asked when they both settled down, her hand still pressing into her head. 

“Yea, fell on my arm but it’s not that bad. You good?” 

She nodded. “Y-Yea, just banged my head on the tv thing.” 

“Let me help you up.” 

Michael held out his hand, Raven giving him her free one to pull her to her feet. However, at the fast movement, she immediately felt lightheaded. Her naked body sagged into his as everything started to fade in and out. 

“Oh shit, you’re bleeding,” he muttered, lifting her head up to examine her, his arm immediately going around her waist to hold her up. “Can you stand?” 

“Barely,” she muttered. Her head felt so heavy, all she wanted to do was collapse back down to the ground. 

“Aye aye, ma. Keep your eyes open for me, aight?” He guided her over to the bed and sat her down before running into the bathroom to grab a bathrobe and a towel. He wrapped her in the robe to make sure she was covered before calling an ambulance and calling down to his security to alert them of the situation. 

He figured an ambulance was slight overkill as she likely just had a concussion but he did not want to take any chances. He worried he pushed her too far too fast. He immediately felt guilty. If he had not been fucking her so rough, she would not be half unconscious next to him. He had just gotten completely lost in her. 

He quickly pulled on his own clothes so he could be ready when the EMTs arrived. He grabbed a towel and swatted away her hand to press it into the wound. It did not look that deep but the sight of her face covered in blood was still jarring for him. Her bloody hand rested on his arm as she tried to continue sitting up. Her eyes started to flutter closed, Michael using his grip on her shoulder to keep her upright.

“Eyes open.” She still responded to his commands. “Good girl, that’s it. Keep your eyes on me. Tell me about your tattoo.” It was the first thing he could think of, referencing the ink on her forearm. 

Even through the pain, she managed to give him a funny look. “You fucked me so h-hard, I-I might h-have a c-concussion a-and you c-care about my tattoo?” 

“Gotta keep you awake somehow, baby girl. Tell me.” 

The tattoo, one of a small bird cage, three small birds flying out of the open doors. The word freedom was written beneath it. 

“M-Maya… Angelou… h-her memoir, I Know Why The Caged Bird… Sings. F-first book I r-remember relating t-to… the i-idea that literature and s-storytelling c-could save y-you. She m-made me w-want to be a w-writer.” 

“You’re a writer?” 

Even in her pain, he could see her body sag slightly, sadness rippling across her face. “Yea…w-was anyway,” she mumbled. 

“What kind of books do you write?” 

However, Michael would never get the answer to that question, at least not that night. The edges of her vision were starting to blur and grow black. Her eyes lulled closed and this time, not even the sweet sounds of his voice and commands could force her to open them back up. 

***

Raven groaned as she woke up in a bed, the beeping of the machines around her filling her ears. She shifted uncomfortably as all of the sensors in her body started to wake up and she began to register everything. The pounding in her skull was overwhelming but her whole body ached. She knew it was likely a combination of Michael’s pension for acrobatics, an ache she’d gladly sign up for again and again, and the fall. Slowly the events that landed her in the hospital came back to her. 

The fall. How embarrassing. She knew she’d never live this one down when it made its way back to Helen and the other women. Falling and ending up in the hospital after her second date overall and first one with one of their biggest clients. She was screwed. 

“Welcome back.” 

She glanced to the side, shocked to find Michael sipping a coffee and sitting in the chair by her window. She was equally shocked to find that it was already light outside. 

How long was I out for? She thought to herself. 

As if he could read her mind and questions, Michael chuckled. “About five hours… longest five hours of my life,” he added under his breath. “How’s your head?” 

“Better than my pride. W-what are you still doing here?” She could not keep the shocked tone out of her voice. It was not that she did not appreciate him sticking around, she just would have never expected it given how Tasha described him. 

“Wanted to make sure you were good,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “I didn’t want you to wake up in the hospital alone.” 

Her heart fluttered, even though she knew it shouldn’t. He was a client, and as soon as he assured she was alive and likely not going to sue him or something, he would be on his way and forget all about her. That was the gig. 

“Oh um… that’s really sweet. T-thank you. And thank you for bringing me here.” 

“It was my fault so it seems only right.” 

“Eh, I think we both shoulder some of the blame there. Not sure why we thought that rickety table could hold both of our weight. Blinded by passion, I suppose,” she mused. “It was fun though,” she muttered, more to herself than to him. “Sorry… for ruining your birthday gift. I k-know I wasn’t the girl you wanted or how it should’ve ended. I feel bad,” she admitted. 

 Michael studied her for a moment, unsure of how to respond to any of that. Sure, she was not the girl he had expected to find in his room. However, he was happy about that. The night had exceeded every expectation he had, until the very end of course. She was a breath of fresh air, a new challenger who had been up for everything he threw at her. And something about her… he just found himself drawn to it. Which is why he was still sitting here in the hospital five hours later instead of leaving. It was not just the great sex or her beauty, it was her. She was sweet and awkward but had fire and could go toe to toe with him when she wanted. He liked that, the challenge she presented. And while he knew she was only supposed to replace Tasha for that one night, the entire time he was buried inside her, all he craved was more of her. And that feeling had not subsided, even as she laid in a hospital bed. 

He shook his head. “I always believe shit goes exactly as it’s supposed to. And don’t sweat it. I had an amazing time last night. You were somethin’ else.” 

He watched as a small smile bloomed on her face. 

“No Tasha, I know,” she admitted, biting her lip. Once again, he resisted the urge to rip it out. A picture of her lips wrapped around his dick flashed in his head. He knew it was inappropriate to lust after her while she laid in the bed. But he could not help it. Having her was like the first hit of a drug, he needed another fix. “But I’m glad it was still fun for you. I had a good time too.” 

Michael closed the distance between them, one hand going to brace on the railing of her bed while the other held his weight as he leaned over her. 

“Don’t compare yourself to Tasha or any other girl out here. You’re one of a kind.” His voice was low, he usually reserved this voice for behind closed doors. It was commanding and authoritative and he could tell she loved it. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her legs tighten together, the lust clouding her eyes, the way her lips parted to let out a shakily breath. “Understand?” 

She nodded, gulping. 

“Words.” 

“Y-Yes, I u-understand.”

But she did not understand. Did not understand why he was still there, why he seemed to care about her, even if it was just to sit in a hospital when she knew he had better things to be doing, or why he at all cared whether she compared herself to anyone. She did not understand him. She had expected what Tasha warned her about… that she would just be there to service, a mere body for him to use as he pleased for the night. That did not bother her, she was there to do a job. However, he seemed to be more than that. You don’t spend all night in a hospital for just a body, right? You don’t care about the low self esteem or self deprecating comments of just a body? And you don’t look at just a body how he was looking at her right now… with such an intense craving and yearning that all Raven wanted to do was to let the ground swallow her whole. 

“Good girl,” he whispered. His hand cradled her face as he took in the bloodied bandage on her forehead. He tilted her head up studying it, his thumb gently caressing her big tresses of kinky hair. 

However, their moment, whatever it was, ended as quickly as it started as Raven’s phone rang loudly next to her. Michael seemed to realize his mistake and looked almost startled, as if he did not know how he ended up so close to her. He took several steps back as Raven grabbed her cell phone from the table. 

She groaned as she realized it was her dad. Michael turned to stare out the window, giving her a bit of privacy as she answered the call. 

“Hey, what do you need?” She knew he was calling because he needed something. None of them ever called to see about her. 

“Hey Rae… could you send whatever money you can today?” 

Raven’s face twisted up in confusion. “Today?? The mortgage isn’t due till the end of the month.” She glanced at Michael who seemed preoccupied in his phone before lowering her voice. “I-I can’t just pull money out of nowhere. Why do you even need it?” 

He sighed. “Kiara got arrested.” 

“Arrested?? For what??” 

“Yea, she got into a fight with her new boyfriend at a bar and they hauled them both off to County. Gotta post bail for both of them by tomorrow afternoon. Or she’ll have to sit there until Monday.”

Raven felt the ache in her head grow but this had nothing to do with the concussion. She would never understand how she was the ugly duckling of the family, the forgotten and unwanted second daughter when Kiara, the prodigal perfect daughter, could barely hold down a job or stay out of trouble for more than a week. Well, that was not true. She completely understood… it did not make it easier to stomach or deal with though. 

“How much?” 

“$10k for them both.” 

“Ten thousand US American dollars??” she cried out loudly, her shock getting the better of her. At that, Michael’s movements did still for a moment, he had been trying not to listen but her outburst made it rather difficult. “I c-can’t come up with that type of money today. Not just because it’s impossible but I’m in the hospital.” 

She heard her dad sigh. “Your sister can’t sit in jail all weekend, she’ll be hurt in there. I’m pulling some money out of savings but it isn’t enough.” 

Raven shook her head. “I’m doing just fine by the way, thanks for asking or caring,” she shot back. Michael could not help but glance over his shoulder at that, taking in the hurt and disappointed tone in her voice that she masked with snark. 

He felt the uncomfortable sting of rage at the despondent look on her face. He wanted to snatch the phone out of her hand and hang up on whoever it was. 

“I’m sorry you aren’t feeling well. But are you gonna send me the money or not? I don’t have time for this. Your sister is rotting in jail right now, only God knows what could be happening to her, and you wanna have an attitude? We are the only family you have. The least you could do is make sure we’re ok while you live it up in LA. I need $6,000.” 

She clenched her eyes shut. She knew that meant handing over her entire cut after she paid Helen and Tasha and then the last bit of savings she had left. But she also knew she could not say no. “Fine. I’ll figure it out and send you the money by tomorrow.” 

“Oh it’s her calling from the jail. I gotta go. Text me when you send it. Bye.” 

She pulled the phone from her ear and shook her head. “You’re welcome,” she muttered to herself. She leaned back in her pillows and forced her eyes to the ceiling to stop the tears that brimmed in her eyes from falling. She did not know why her family’s treatment still got to her, 30 years later. Tasha was right… She needed thicker skin in all areas of her life. 

“You good?” 

She pressed her hands into her cheeks as a couple tears fell. She felt a wave of embarrassment as she remembered Michael was in the room. As if her interaction with him could not get any worse. They went from mind blowing sex to a hospital room and brain injuries to tears. 

You really ruin everything for everyone, she thought to herself. 

“Yea, yea. Just dumb family stuff.” She waved her hand dismissively. “It’s nothing.” 

“I thought I told you I didn’t like lies.” 

Raven eyed him for a moment. Part of her would love to talk to someone about her family drama, unload all the pent up feelings she pushed deep down into her soul. However, she knew she could not do it with him of all people. So instead of the vulnerability and honestly he demanded, she instead offered him a cheeky smile. 

“The Nicole that responds to your demands costs $5k a night. And as you heard on the phone, I could most certainly use it,” she added with a wink. 

“Nicole?” The doctor came in just as Michael was about to open his mouth to respond. “How are you feeling?” 

“Like I got hit in the head.” She glanced at Michael with an expression that read what kinda stupid question is that? He merely snickered.   

“Makes sense. Well you have a very mild concussion. You’ll need to rest for at least the next 7 days… avoid a lot of screens and movement and anything that requires a lot of mental power. It was very mild though so you should be back on your feet soon. You’re free to go.” 

“Thank you,” she muttered. A week in bed meant a week of no work. And all the money she had to show for this disastrous night was gone. However, she had no time to really wallow in any of that. One thing Raven always did was figure it out. 

She slid out of bed, immediately swaying slightly causing Michael to rush to her side. He was quick on his feet, all that boxing training went to good use. He caught her before she crumbled fully, guiding her back to the bed. 

“Gotta move a lot slower than you’d think with a concussion, especially the first few days. You sure you’re gonna be good on your own?” he asked as he stared down at her. 

She chuckled, the sound void of any true humor. “Yea I’ll be fine. Always am. Thanks for the assist. C-could you hand me my dress?” 

Michael grabbed her clothes from the table in the corner. He watched her as she slid it back on, her movements far more measured and slow as she heeded his advice. She looked far more weary and exhausted than she did when she first woke up, as if that phone call and whoever was on the other line had aged her considerably. 

Once she was fully dressed and finished her discharge paperwork, she settled onto the bed to slide into her hospital slippers. Not the best shoes to wear home but they beat the uncomfortable heels she could barely walk in on a good day. 

“Thanks again… for waiting with me. You really didn’t have to.” She glanced down at her phone as she waited for him to respond, absentmindedly opening the Uber app so she could get a ride home. 

“What are you doing?” 

Her face twisted up in confusion. “Calling an uber?” 

“You shouldn’t uber home like this. I’ll drop you off.” 

Raven instinctively shook her head, the action causing a spot of pain that forced her to stop. “I-I can’t let you do that. You’ve done more than enough. Seriously.” 

“I wasn’t askin’. Ain’t about to let you uber home. If you don’t want me to know where you live, my driver can take you and he’ll come get me after.” 

Raven’s heart warmed at the thought. She did not like the idea of a client knowing where she laid her head every night. That seemed to be one of the few rules all the girls lived by. However, she trusted him. For some reason. 

“No, no, it’s not a problem. T-thank you.” 

Before she knew it, he and his security were hustling her out of a back entrance the hospital used for high profile guests and into a SUV with tinted windows. The car ride was virtually silent, Raven not knowing what to say or do around him. A night in a hospital meant they had a rapport. But he was still a client and this was the longest and most intimate interaction she had ever had with one. And everything since 3 am last night seemed like it was authentically from the kindness of his heart. She had promised him nothing in return for such kindness and he did not ask for anything. She wondered if he assumed and she just missed the cue? 

However, as they pulled up outside of her apartment building in her neighborhood, she glanced at him expectantly, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But nothing came. 

Instead, he merely said, “You sure you’re gonna be ok alone?” She could tell his eyes were searching the neighborhood, taking in the less than safe area she lived in. 

She nodded. “I, umm, have a roommate. So not fully alone. She’ll be home from work later tonight so I’ll be good. Thank you. A-and sorry again… for ruining your special day. At least, you got a good story for your friends and Tasha next time?” she chuckled. “I’m sure she’ll never let me live it down. Anyway… thanks again for everything a-and it was great to meet you.” 

She knew this was goodbye for good. Their one night together was just that, one night before he went back to being Tasha’s best client. She was the replacement, not the one they came back to for more. 

Though she did not fully know why, she reached over and grabbed his hand that rested between them and squeezed, “You were a hell of a first date,” she winked at him.  

Michael found the part of him he hated most did not want to say goodbye to her yet either. The part he kept caged and usually ignored had full control over him today. It was as if she had pressed all the right buttons to release that specific beast and did not even realize what she had done. Now, the beast roamed free and he found it difficult to herd it and the feelings it created back into their cages. 

He did not want to feel what Nicole made him feel… he did not want to care about whether her neighborhood was safe for her; he did not want to know who she was talking to so he could strangle them for causing that look in her eye; he did not want to know anything else about her like why she said she was a writer in the past tense, what she had written or what she turned to reading and writing to be saved from; and he did not want to feel the urge to reach in his pocket and write her a check for another $5,000 to solve whatever her problems were if it meant she would not look as she had in the hospital ever again. And most of all, he did not want to yearn for all those answers like he needed air. The man who would’ve done all those things, who would have already yielded to those feelings was gone. He needed to remember that. 

“Great meeting you too, Nicole” he offered shortly.  

Raven paused as she jumped out of the SUV, turning back to him. “It’s Raven, actually.”

At his raised eyebrow, she clarified, “My real name. You said you don’t like lies, remember?” Her smile was sweet and innocent. 

“I thought that was gonna cost me another $5k?” 

She smiled playfully, a light in her eyes that hadn’t been there since she woke up. “Spending your birthday in a hospital with a girl you didn’t even know means you earned my real name for free. And where I live… don’t turn out to be a stalker creep though,” she joked. “Cause that would suck.”

He laughed. “No stalking… got it. Thanks for the two birthday gifts then, Raven.” 

She offered him one final smile and wave before she closed the door and walked into her building. 

As he drove away, he was thankful to never see her again. He would return to the comfortability of Tasha who played her role and sparked no other feelings in him but carnal lust. That was all he had room for. All those other feelings Raven elicited would fade and the beast would be locked up once again.

As Raven laid in bed, trying to force herself to rest, she could not help but think a similar refrain. She could not get him out of her head. The duality of the way he fucked her with the care and kindness he showed her after. The genuine concern he seemed to have for her. She wanted more of that, more of him. She wondered what it felt like for him to make love to a woman, and wondered how it would feel to hear him call out her real name. Wondered how it would feel to be held by him… how he took care of her, even if it was only briefly. She thought about how it must feel to be loved by him, the intensity of it must have been intoxicating. She thought back to the night before, flashes of it coming to her. If she focused, she could still feel where his hands were, like fire against her skin. 

However, she knew those fantasies were dangerous and a fool’s errand. She could not fall head over heels for her first real date. That was not the job. And maybe she would find a client of her own like him one day, but she knew she would not last long if she pinned over every man who was nice to her. She thought she had let go of her hopeless romantic phase long ago but it still resurfaced every once in a while. But Tasha was right, she would not survive in their world long wearing her heart on her sleeve. And she needed to survive, her family needed her to survive. So, she would never see the Michael B. Jordan again and she, too, was thankful. Because then she would forget about him and move on.  

She sighed as she settled into bed. Despite ending up in the ER, the night had been a success. Michael had been pleased, which was all that mattered and hopefully he relayed that to Helen. And that meant more clients, more opportunities to make money and get her life, at least financially, back on track. That’s all she needed and wanted to focus on. Anything else, fantasies of a man she could never have again, were foolish and best left for the characters she wrote in her free time. 

Sleep eluded both Michael and Raven that night as they were plagued with fantasies of each other, the person they both knew was foolish to want because they knew they could not have them. 

Tag List: @readinghere2023 @blackerthings @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @physicxal @purplehairgawdess @miyuhpapayuh @rueruesclues @geemamii

A/N: I'm both really excited and nervous about this series so I hoped y'all enjoyed chapter 1! Drop a comment and let me know what you thought!

[pinguphd]

Soldier of Heaven Chapter 1

I spent like 3 days editing this, but at least I finally have chapter one of my fem!Shep/Kaidan fic. Taking place after the events of ME3, we're going to explore just what happened to our dear Commander Amira Shepard and her love, Kaidan Alenko. I would like to thank @the-californicationist for putting up with my rambling, and especially @tealenko for helping me work out some of the ideas I had. Wouldn't have done it without you two, this goes out to you!

Each chapter, including the name of the fic itself, is named after a song. I will update the playlist with each chapter so you can listen along with me. Enjoy!

“I won't be coming home

I won't be going anywhere

I will guard this post forever

Here on the alpine slope, where I did my final stand, I shall remain

Among the ice and snow that binds me to this mountain”

Soldier of Heaven-Sabaton

It took close to two months in the aftermath of the Reaper War for things to return to any semblance of normalcy.  While the makeshift hospitals were still full, they did not seem so utterly overwhelmed as when the Catalyst was fired, finally eradicating the Reaper threat and ending the horrid cycle.  Much of humanity’s home was destroyed, yet the overall mood in London was one of optimism or cautious enthusiasm at the society they are rebuilding. 

Amira Shepherd, the famed Savior of the Citadel, first human Spectre and one of the best biotics the galaxy has ever seen was one of the people still in hospital.  The doctors and nurses had no idea who she was, and Amira wanted to keep it that way.  Best they could figure was she was probably an Alliance soldier, but it was hard to be certain when she would not speak to any of them.  The combination of watching a man she considered to be a father figure to her-Admiral Anderson die right in front of her, the comedown from the six months that she had spent going from here to kingdom come gathering everything she possibly could to ensure the continued survival of everyone in the Milky Way, and, perhaps most heartbreakingly, saying her final goodbyes to her beloved Kaidan took its toll on her.

Having survived 3 different suicide missions, curing the genophage and watching Mordin die, saving Kaidan on Virmire, even her fraught reunion with him on Horizon was distressing.  She has seen enough trauma, heartbreak, and death to last her many lifetimes (quite literally, in her case). She could still recall every second of her final moments with him.  Helping him up after being fired upon with that beam, even forcing him onto the Normandy even as he begged her not to make him go and his anguish as she left him was the worst of all of it.  She loved him so deeply she made him go, although it broke her heart to do so.

That did not make the aftermath any easier.  After she had fired the Catalyst, she had very little recollection of what it was like in the midst of all that rubble.  Her armor was in pieces and near nonexistent and the burns and injuries she had, she almost couldn’t feel.  All she could remember was the feeling deep within her that she had to get back to him, no matter what.  Despite the risks to what she knew had to be incredibly fragile health, she did her best to keep a biotic field about her in the hope search and rescue would find her.  Dead or alive, she owed it to Kaidan to know how she ended.  Not another Alchera, not on her watch.

From what she had been told by the medical staff, she was in the smoldering rubble for around 3 days.  By the time she was found she was incredibly weak and in what she could only imagine was a rough state.  Bad enough to the point where the staff at the hospital, full to the brim with Alliance doctors, nurses and support staff had no idea she was Commander Shepard.  This fact suited her just fine.  

For some unknown reason they were keeping her there, so in a show of defiance, she kept her damn mouth shut.  She filled her time not in PT with a sketchbook and canvas a well meaning woman visiting her friend at work gave her.  It’s not right dear, you being here all alone. She was one of the only people in the few months she had been in hospital who was not interested in making her talk.  I understand dear if you don’t want to say anything she said to her on her first visit.  She enjoyed the companionship anyway.  

This sweet older woman was completely and utterly empathetic, expecting nothing in return.  Selfless too, visiting her.  She seemed to have a way with, what did Kaidan call them? “Old soldiers.” Huh.  Guess those words ring truer than she thought.  When the woman, Elizabeth, she eventually learned was her name, had come to visit, she always had a mug of tea and biscuits with her, armed to the teeth with even more art supplies for her.  

Elizabeth would sit with her in her room, chattering away about everything and nothing at all.  She heard stories of her kids and grandkids, all gone now.  She heard about her troubles finding ingredients for the teas and biscuits she brought with her on her daily visits.  More than once the doctors, nurses, therapists and technicians chided her for being rude in not talking to her friend who was so kind in visiting someone she had never met before.  Elizabeth came to her defense more than once, shutting that attitude towards her with a fury only known to a mama bear protecting her cubs.  

It was on one of these visits, Elizabeth chatting away while Amira worked on a scene of her and Kaidan’s last goodbye, that Elizabeth had said something particularly interesting.  “Apparently some Admiral is even in the area today.  Think he might be visiting some of the Alliance folk.”  Hearing this, Amira felt the blood in her veins run cold.  Beyond hope she prayed it both was and was not Admiral Hackett.  Desperate for word of her crew on the SR-2, she studiously focused her attention back on the pad in her lap, whilst Elizabeth prattled on and left her to get lost in her thoughts.  It was something she did a lot since she was found.

Okay, she was lying to herself.  She knew full well why they were keeping her there.  The combination of how heavy she used her biotics in her final moments before she made it to the Citadel, the injuries she sustained, and lying half dead (well, mostly dead if she was being honest with herself) using the very last of her reserves to emit a strong enough blue glow to be found had completely destroyed her implant.  The cybernetics and nanites Cerberus had given her had protected much of her fragile state and had served to speed up the healing process.  

In order to distract herself from the train of thought that thinking of Cerberus always led her down (the awful reunion with Kaidan on Horizon, almost losing Garrus on Omega, the suicide mission that was the Omega 4 relay…) she instead forced herself to use her famed laser focus on running down the list of why she had not been identified, her pencil stilling against the pad of paper in front of her.  Feeling a sense of calm overcome her after Elizabeth’s seemingly innocent remark at the visiting Alliance brass, she ran through the logistics she knew by heart.  

During and after any skirmish, battle or war, communications were in some form of disarray.  In this case, they were all but destroyed.  To that end, she knew connections to Alliance systems in particular were nonexistent.

When they had to replace her L3 implant with a highly experimental L5 type model similar to what she retrieved from Grissom knowing that the logistics of obtaining a safe and extraordinarily well tested L3 implant like what she had previously (she groaned internally at that, it would be her third damn implant) it was so badly damaged they couldn’t easily trace it back to the Alliance database, if they had the access at all.

With so few resources, they did not have a chance to thoroughly scan her like they would have done pre-war.

Over half of Earth’s population was dead, and with medical staff on or near the front lines their numbers had been particularly affected. With so few staff, and an extraordinary number of patients to tend to, she was able to stay safely under the radar.

Those who needed tending to number in the many thousands.  As fond as the medical field and Alliance tended to be of rules and protocol, the ability to follow such things went out the window in wartime, which she knew very well.

She thought of these 5 things, over and over, during the course of her visit with her friend.  It distracted her and calmed her nerves.  Anxieties she had become all too familiar with since Alchera reared their ugly head once more, however, when she heard a flutter of activity outside the small room she had been given.  She looked towards the door, with a mix of fear and well-disguised terror in her eyes in contrast to the awe Elizabeth had held in hers.  Elizabeth’s heart softened when she looked upon Amira, the older woman coming up to her to place a weathered hand on her bare shoulders.

Listening to the conversation in the hall with her well-practiced hearing, she heard a very familiar voice talking with the nurse that was particularly horrid to her over the course of her stay.  Prone to letting her mind wander since the war's end, she thought of all the ways this woman had tried to goad her into talking.  Attempts at withholding food, being more aggressive in the treatments she was giving, waking her at odd hours or abruptly, the list goes on.  She guessed that was part of why Elizabeth had visited her so often, after the first time she witnessed “the wicked harpy” draw blood with a rather vicious looking needle that left a pretty purple bruise at her elbow.

“Oh, how did you enjoy your visit sir?  We have had a great many Alliance soldiers grace our halls.  I myself have taken care of many of them.” She could hear their muffled footsteps walking away from the corner of the hospital. Elizabeth had given her shoulder a gentle squeeze, rolling her eyes. If by “care” she means acting like a wicked harpy armed with a syringe full of medi-gel, then by all means, she took great care of you dear. The two people in the corridor were unfortunately not far enough away, because the Alliance Admiral had heard some of their words and turned back around, heading right toward the door.  To her.

“Oh no sir, you wouldn’t want to go in there.  This silly woman doesn’t bother to talk to anyone.  No one knows her name and no one comes to visit either so clearly whoever she had in her life either is dead or she was so miserable to them like she is to us they just don’t care.”  She giggled a bit at that, letting just enough of her facade crack that the man's steps came to an abrupt halt and turned about face towards her.  Coming close enough to the windowed door, Amira’s eyes widened.  She knew that silhouette anywhere.

With a stern voice, he addressed Harpy.  “With all due respect ma’am, you were fully apprised of the reason for my visit today.  I did not put up with your company for the last hour for nothing.  I did not stand next to you blabbering about your skills as I visited my men and women, many of whom were under my command or under the command of a good friend who is also missing.  If there is a soldier in there under MY command, I will see her.”  Despite the stuttered protests of Harpy, trying to recover her “reputation”, he swiftly held out a hand to push open the door. 

Amira froze and dropped her pencil.  Clearly startled, Elizabeth raised her stature and wrapped both hands around her shoulders, standing protectively over her adopted charge.  “And just who in the hell are you?  Barging in here like a raging krogan like that, have you no manners man?”  Amira placed a hand over hers and shrugged them off, standing up.  The man’s eyes widened.  Yes, they knew each other very well.

“Commander Shepard?”

[mysterious-cuchulainn-x]

We Will Hold the... Charge?

I've spent a fairly, perhaps unreasonably, long time being deeply perplexed by the Battle of Ostagar. The human forces are both on the defensive and defensively positioned, while the darkspawn are obviously on the attack, yet dialogue consistently treats preparation for the battle as preparation for an attack on the darkspawn—even though it is the human forces who are camped in a clear location, and the darkspawn who can emerge from the wilds to battle at will.

Stating the obvious, maybe, but I'm also excited to have finally figured myself back around where things make sense:

The Battle of Ostagar is not the first battle of the Blight.

Duncan and Cailan both refer to previous "skirmishes" against the darkspawn. It appears at first that these may be fights against scouting bands in the Wilds, but Cailan specifically mentions participating in several victories—the teams in the Wilds have had a much harder time. Rather, the darkspawn must have emerged from the Wilds previously, lacking the numbers they have built up by the final engagement, and failed to break through the human defenses.

(This adds additional flavor to the fearful soldier in the cutscene—it's not the sight of darkspawn at a great distance that's so intimidating, but how damned many there were.)

2. Duncan's return changes Cailan's calculations.

The king is in high spirits when Duncan returns with The Warden, eagerly anticipating a heroic charge against the darkspawn. Part of this is immature hero worship and glory-seeking, but there are also widespread indications of fatigue, mounting casualties, and growing morale problems; "holding the line" with no end in sight isn't going to work for much longer.

So: the royal army may have been positioned defensively during his absence, but with Warden-Commander Duncan at the king's side, it is time to seize the day (and his army's flagging morale) and cast down the darkspawn once and for all!

(Loghain, as Rendon Howe's patron, etc., etc., has his own reasons to abide by this reversal; Cailan explicitly refers to the battle plan as Loghain's strategy.)

3. Duncan urges patience and asks after the archdemon.

Duncan questions Loghain's plan twice: urging Cailan to wait for Arl Eamon—not knowing he has, most likely, already been poisoned—or for more Grey Wardens, and then asking what contingencies exist if the archdemon appears. Both approaches aim, unsuccessfully, to alter the strategy's implementation to make it effective: delaying a decisive engagement is bad strategy against the horde, but the only way to ensure the army's survival until the archdemon actually appears.

But neither Cailan nor Loghain knows (nor would Loghain likely believe Duncan) about the archdemon, so from the non-Warden/generally ignorant viewpoint the best option—with morale declining and the horde growing every day—is to counterattack and force a decisive battle. They can choose this battle because the darkspawn attack the human defensive positions semi-regularly; it is merely a question of picking the attack to counter.

TLDR: No, CuChu, the army did take advantage of their positioning. They just stopped doing that, for reasons unique to each decision-maker, right on time for it to be the worst possible decision.

Of course, Cailan's charge is still a foolhardy and unnecessary risk, but it's something he could coherently insist on in contrast to the previous battle plan, and which Loghain has every reason to agree to.

[cjoatprehn]

Survival Financial Request!

My mom’s been filing for bankruptcy, has been extremely financially stressed lately, and trying to get me over to her has been really stressful. She’s a burn victim from a Yankee Candle catching on fire on Halloween, she received 3rd degree burns on most of her body for trying to save her support dog. Between support animal costs, food, rent, and hospital recovery, she’s in dire need of aid. If y’all could and are in a position to help, could you send some money over, please, to help ensure she will be able to at the very least have some pressure off her shoulders? And a sweet note, if you want to—? Thank you…

Adding to this post-

I want to make clear I’ve been struggling to keep us and others afloat, and now I’m at a point in my life and health where I am no longer able to do so. They’re cutting away more food stamp money from many households in the legislature not just ours, and I’m in the process of moving to my mom’s to help out. And also—

I’m kinda Flipping out right now. I don’t want to lie, with the US being a 3rd world country now. I’m flipping out because last month…was the last month they would be giving food money in the 100s. With food so high and Rent higher. SSI—I don’t even know. …I’m smiling but I don’t know what else to do. My moms still recovering from 3rd degree burns, surgery, and trying to get me there, and I’ve learned that the Aunt that had control of late great grandma’s reservoir for funds…Help won’t last long.

I’m scared, and I’m losing hope. I don’t want to go out as the person who Fucking struggled and suffered their entire life, never got to flourish. …I’ve never thought of making a gofundme again. Every time I’ve made one it never reached anything. And…I-can’t even maintain a savings for long. If we run out of money or assistance, then my mom stops getting treatment. Her dog doesn’t get food or treatment…and we’ll lose the little we have left.

She doesn’t have any friends or many connections outside of herself or her former government job. So—I’m just—like—trying to convince her to.. at least accept my help. I know everyone’s not in the best financial situation to help but—I can’t continue giving good energy to the universe from an empty cup…so I really appreciate the support..!

For record only, no longer helping someone who wants to gaslight and abuse me. I’ve been evicted as of May 9th, 2023. I found a place to stay for last night and possibly tonight. After that I’m on the streets. I’ve accepted I might not make it. I’m bedbound forced to rest by my body and disabilities. My phone has been deactivated by my mom only to discover she can’t reactivate it due to my phone being 6-7 years old. It’s too old to be reactivated with its old line.

But…hey…I’m no longer at my abusive home situation. I don’t wish to tell my dad’s side of the family. My mom prolly let them know anyway. I don’t know for sure though.

…I’m so flipping screwed. Had to deactivate my throne, due to no longer having that address. So…I’m just.. Here. Waiting. Watching my time come closer.

Thread of some of the abuse from my mom. I don’t feel like typing it all here..

https://cjoatbysamwise.com/donate-to-cjoat

…I’m scared. But I don’t know what else to do so I’m accepting my fate and situation for now at least. So.

Here’s to updates..

Late Update:

Got yelled at, insulted, and screamed at by my mom through text. She’s called AT&T to lock everything down; I asked her for my account information. When she didn’t answer for the next 5-6 hours. I had AT&T send an email and a text to her & asked her for what they sent her. I got accused of hacking. I’m Not getting my phone line back.

Oh and to top it off, she sent me a picture of Storme laying outside of where I used to sleep. With Storme saying hi. I relayed a message to Storme. It would be a goodbye unless we meet again.

…So I’m unable to exactly…Do anything so. Just…Trying to calm my heart rate down…It’s been elevated all damn day…and increasing..

Good News: The Situation has Partly Cleared!

I cued a erasure on the iPhone 14 Pro Max, which my mom gave me and then took away from me after snooping through my iPhone 8+ and kicking me out, as soon as it connects to the internet; that way, my mom gets to return the phone, she gets her $1K+ back, problem solved. However, twice my mom sent 2 “Reset Apple ID Password” pop-ups on my devices, which…fuck off, mom, tf?

In response, after checking with the select few, I have changed my Apple ID email, because she doesn’t know my Apple ID password. I will be working with Apple Customer Servicee to ensure she can not steal my Apple account through Screen Time (which is possible). Conclusively:

I have a bed and address, temporarily but for awhile, unsure of how long, definitely more than a few days. Right now, until things stabilize with assistance, I don’t have to pay yet, despite being willing to. Currently slowly getting out of survival mode. Many of my stuff remain at my mom’s. I am able to get another physical SIM for my phone. Throne should be showing and working now, because I now have a new address, temporary while I figure what to do from here. I am no longer am able to draw due to my stylus breaking and my disc tips running out. Still got to get back. Laptop is out of commission until I get a new laptop charger, or until I get my old one back. That’s the update for now.

…I’m…finally going to heal, now that I’m safe and in a warm & accepting, and lax environment.

Still going to need assistance, thank y’all so much for supporting me so far.

[gnostichymns]

It has come at last: a moment's reprieve from the burning heat of the summer. Autumn takes its first breaths of the year, bringing with it the promise of campfires, temperate afternoons, and the beginning of the school year across the solar system. Perhaps a reprieve from summer isn't all that great, after all.

Liyue has really been at the forefront of medicine for a while, and that holds true with the esteemed reputation of the esteemed Professor Kettle. Quick-witted, crude, and one of the best doctors in Liyue, he’s been forced to post some job offerings. He needs to bounce his ideas off the best minds Teyvat has to offer. Years of experience: unimportant. All that matters is that you can provide good ideas, aren’t stupid, and can handle his… tough personality. If nothing else, this’ll look damn good on your resumé, so come and apply with anyone else who may be of use to the Professor.

One of the major fauna that inhabit Natlan are the Saurians, dragons of various sizes that live closely with the people. However, it’s still survival of the fittest, and many of these Saurians find themselves discarded by their parents for some innate weakness or shortcoming. Natlan’s people are not so merciless, however. Nurseries take in these little critters and will both give the Saurians away to people looking to keep them. While kind-hearted, these Saurians are demanding, and these nurseries can always use an extra set of hands. Learn how to feed, clean, and care for these little critters.

The Heart of Dragonspine, a mysterious source of heat amidst the perilous cold, has begun to garner some unsavory attention. Several Abyssal mages as well as at least two Abyssal Lectors have been spotted investigating and performing experiments on The Heart, causing the whole of Dragonspine’s ecosystem to react in very dangerous ways. The snow seems to be worsening, and the wildlife is moving down the mountain and into neighboring villages, creating chaos. Any capable adventurers and fighters would be of great value to stop the Abyss and temper The Heart.

As part of the new and upcoming Penacony Cinematic Universe, the long-awaited sequel, ‘Major Dreamscape: Civil War,’ is set to release before the end of the month. In this, tensions rise between Major Dreamscape and Clock-man, once allies now finding themselves at odds due to regulations being put on their superhero activities. To generate hype for this, Sensation Studios is calling upon influencers all across the galaxy to send their skits and videos, announcing excitement for the release. All you’ve got to do: dress up as both Major Dreamscape and Clock-man, and have a good ol’ tussle for the camera. Then, submit it online, and gain your internet fame!

Rumors have been floating around about the “Back Alley of Belobog,” a mysterious alleyway that can’t seem to be located within the city. Reports detail a strange fence appearing in places that it shouldn’t be. Some of these claims state that a man is begging to be freed due to identical doppelgangers taking the place of citizens, and others claim of a man with an eerie, almost inhumanely large smile ensuring others that there's nothing wrong and to let them out. He claims the keys are held by the Silvermane Guards, yet no guards seem to know of any “Back Alley.” There is unrest in the city due to this, and you’ve been called to help search for this supposed fence and put the rumors to rest. You will be assigned a partner to search, as going alone may be dangerous.

Herta’s Space Station always seems to have a staffing problem. Employees are putting in their two weeks left and right-- too many tasks, never enough scientists, and it feels like these job applications never seem to go the right way. As such, the only solution is to hire more. Training includes one 12 hour lab shift with two 30 minute, unpaid meals and two paid 15 minute breaks, as well as a partner assigned based on compatibility (randomly). There are only two rules: don't leave the observation room unattended and NO SLEEPING ON THE CLOCK.

[loganwritesprobably]

Theo Character Sheet

Context: Hale family survived the fire AU

Lots of headcanons, lots of changes!

𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚘𝚍𝚘𝚛𝚎 "𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚘" 𝙰. 𝚁𝚊𝚎𝚔𝚎𝚗

"ɪ'ᴍ ᴀɴ ᴀᴛʜᴇɪꜱᴛ. ꜰɪʀᴇ ᴀᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ."

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

╭──── ⋅𖥔⋅ ────╮

ʙᴀꜱɪᴄ ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪʟꜱ

ɴᴀᴍᴇ: Theodore Alexander Raeken

ɴɪᴄᴋɴᴀᴍᴇꜱ: Theo

ᴀɢᴇ: 17

ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ: Trans male

ᴘʀᴏɴᴏᴜɴꜱ: He/him

ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟɪᴛʏ: Gay

ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ: November 19th

ᴢᴏᴅɪᴀᴄ ꜱɪɢɴ: Scorpio

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•⋅⋅•+⋅

ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴇꜱ: Chimera (Werewolf/Werecoyore)

ʜᴇɪɢʜᴛ: 5’9”

ꜱᴋɪɴ ᴛᴏɴᴇ: Fair

ʜᴀɪʀ: Brunette

ᴇʏᴇꜱ: Green

ꜱᴄᴀʀꜱ: N/A

ʙᴏᴅʏ ᴍᴏᴅꜱ: N/A

╰──── ⋅𖥔⋅ ────╯

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

╭──── ⋅𖥔⋅ ��───╮

ʙᴀᴄᴋꜱᴛᴏʀʏ

The dread doctors took Theo when he was just nine years old. He had a major heart defect that was sure to kill him without a transplant, and said transplant would make Theo perfect for the doctors' experiments as he would be a genetic chimera. The first successful chimera. They convinced Theo that his older sister Tara wanted him to have her heart so that he would be able to keep living and he believed them. He tricked her into falling into the river, at their favourite spot on the bridge in the preserve, and watched as she died, just as they'd told him to.

They raised him as his guardians, the most parental of the three being The Geneticist. She was like a mother to Theo and showed the largest amount of concern for his mental wellbeing. The doctors ensured he excelled in school in all of his academic subjects, fed him perfectly well, made sure he kept on top of gym visits and had him pursue theatre so he would be able to work as their puppet within schools. Young children, like he had been, were unlikely to survive the procedures they wanted to do. They needed older children.

The Geneticist grew fond of Theo as he aged, conceding things to him and allowing him to live more and more like a 'real kid'. It was her that taught him how to drive, her that bought him fast food following theatre rehearsals, her that bought him his first and only pet, her that helped with his first full shift and helped groom him after runs in the woods, and it was her that helped him plan his escape.

It took a lot of careful care to plan the deaths of each doctor, and hurt so much more to know he had to kill the Geneticist if he wanted to actually be free. She wrote each of their wills, making sure everything that they had would go to Theo and it was her that gave him her blessing to end her very long life. She'd always been invested in their goal of reviving La Bête du Gévaudan, but she had grown more invested in her son.

Theo knew he was trans for a long time. The Dread Doctors may have been murderers, but they were also scientists, so weren't fool enough to deny Theo what he wanted. Theo didn't want them anywhere near him with knives, so while they'd off-handedly offered to help with his transition on several occasions, he'd denied.

When he turned up at Peter's, this was something Peter immediately took to researching with him. The two spent long nights together finding the best surgeons, prices be damned, and got Theo what he wanted.

Theo now takes testosterone injections and has had top surgery. He's still looking into bottom surgery, because he and Peter aren't sure how his body would heal around it if something were to go wrong.

╰──── ⋅𖥔⋅ ────╯

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

╭──── ⋅𖥔⋅ ────╮

ᴄᴀʀᴇᴇʀ

Student

**⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅**

ʜᴏʙʙɪᴇꜱ

Because of the way he was treated by the dread doctors, Theo didn't really have time for many hobbies. 

When he was younger he did little league with Scott and Stiles, but he didn't truly have a chance to play sports for enjoyment after he left, he was only given the chance to exercise to maintain his figure. The one thing he did find that he enjoys is theatre. 

The dread doctors wanted him to be a good actor to serve his purpose as they travelled around, and so he got to do theatre classes at each of the high schools that he attended, assuming they provided it as an option. He found that he had quite the passion for theatre and quickly began taking on lead roles in most shows he partook in.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

ʟɪᴋᴇꜱ

☾ Theatre ☾  Pop punk music ☾  Mythology ☾  Chess ☾  Tattoos

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

ᴅɪꜱʟɪᴋᴇꜱ

☽  Small spaces ☽  Pop culture ☽  Mannequins ☽  Bowling

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

ᴀꜱᴘɪʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ

Theo gave up on imagining a life after the dread doctors a long time ago so now he has no aspirations. He doesn't know what he wants to do, or where he wants to be, he just knows what he's good at. The closest thing he has to any sort of aspiration is his desire to rekindle his friendships from childhood and earn his place in the Hale pack.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

ꜰᴇᴀʀꜱ

༓  Meeting his parents again ༓  Hospitals

╰──── ⋅𖥔⋅ ────╯

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

╭──── ⋅𖥔⋅ ────╮

ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘꜱ

ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ

ꜰᴀᴛʜᴇʀ

➼ Mr Raeken ➼ Unknown

•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•

ᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀ

➼ Mrs Raeken ➼ Unkown

•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•

ꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀ

➼ Tara Raeken ➼ Deceased •⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅• ɢᴜᴀʀᴅɪᴀɴ ➼ Peter Hale ➼ Living

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Theo has no idea what happened to his parents. The doctors spoke to him, not them, and then his sister was dead and he was being taken away. He hasn't seen his parents since Tara's funeral and never dared to ask the doctors what happened to them, he knew he wasn't allowed to talk about his life before.

He carries a lot of guilt over what happened to Tara, even though he was so young when it happened. He remembers Stiles accusing him of being emotionless for being able to kill her but as he'd said himself - he was a kid, he still believed in Santa. He believed the doctors. He regrets that now and would happily die a hundred times over if it meant that Tara got to live now.

Peter isn't quite family just yet, but when Theo turned up in the pouring rain and asked Peter to take him in, with the knowledge that he'd understand tucked in his back pocket, he became Peter's ward. Peter is maybe the closest thing he had to a father, that he can remember anyway.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

ᴘʟᴀᴛᴏɴɪᴄ

Theo doesn't struggle with conversation or socialising, but he does struggle making true connections. He hasn't had real friendships since he was a kid and his best friends were Scott and Stiles. Now, he's determined to make some true friends again, but he struggles with honesty after playing the chameleon for so long.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴛɪᴄ

Theo has faked attraction and relationships with dozens of people in the past while working with the dread doctors. He's never been truly interested in anyone until more recently, though.

╰──── ⋅𖥔⋅ ────╯

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

╭──── ⋅𖥔⋅ ────╮

ʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜ

ᴘʜʏꜱɪᴄᴀʟ ʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜ

As a Chimera, equal parts Werewolf and Werecoyote, Theo is in effectively peak physical condition. It’s a great improvement compared to his childhood, where for a while things looked bleak - like he may not survive until his eleventh birthday. Sometimes, he still has unusual feelings around his heart, like it’s beating ‘wrong’ though Theo knows that means nothing.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

ᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜ

Theo’s mental health is, overall, poor. It doesn’t take a genius to work that out. Between his dysphoria, years of traumatic experimentation, being isolated and alone and killing his own sister - to say Theo has some issues is the understatement of the century

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

ᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ

Growing up with the Dread Doctors, Theo didn’t eat much high quality food. Often, it was the bare minimum, though still balanced. He didn’t often get the chance to eat junk food like other people his age, and now he takes the chance whenever it’s given to him. Though, he also thoroughly enjoys the food Peter makes for him, and is more than happy to take that to school rather than eating whatever it is the cafeteria serves.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ

Theo rarely sleeps well. He had a rough child and teen life, and that has left him more than troubled. He spent a little while living out of his truck, and living with Peter absolutely makes sleeping easier, but it still doesn’t stop the nightmares. He has them every night, and sometimes wakes Peter in the process. He’s exhausted, always.

╰──── ⋅𖥔⋅ ────╯

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

[slip-slop-slap-seek-slide]

The Southern Sun

He was eight when England found him.

Or at least he looked it.

A child, with ancient eyes and a hollow face, darting this way and that in the hustle of a still struggling settlement, offering quick smiles to harden men who turned away and soft grins to weary women who shook their heads.

There was a fundamental truth that he was unable to ignore, at the core of these new people with milky white skin. The grim determination of how they approached their tasks, and the still raw marks around their wrists betrayed them.

They did not want him.

Oh, they wanted his land. His fields of golden green, the forest and trees that had been looked after by his people for centuries, carefully moulded to fit a way of life and ecosystem that had held for thousands of years- they wanted that.

But these people, brought here on floating monster’s made of wood and steel, were not here by choice.

“A prison,” he had heard a man with angry eyes say, as he was standing quietly outside a building unlike any he had ever seen, which had people by the dozen go in and come out stumbling over themselves like baby joeys after first leaving their mother’s pouch. “And a damn good one at that. Where the fuck else would we go? We’re at the end of the fucking world, and starving half to death because of it.”

“Oh come off it,” said his companion, light eyes and hair a strange curiosity in the dulling twilight of the day. “Besides, how long you got ‘till you’re free as a whistle? Two years, three? Then you can hop right back home, and leave the rest of us poor bugger’s in this dump.”

The first man grunted, and pulled himself up with a thump, movements sluggish and uncoordinated. “If I survive the fucking trip back.” He muttered darkly, and then the two moved out into the night, following the dirt paths the new people had made to connect their buildings of wood and stone.

The conversation had frightened him, something ancient and not entirely human crying out in pain, and he had darted back to safety, his Wiradjuri peoples welcoming him with delighted eyes and soft smiles as always, a calming balm over the hurt and confusion of his own limited understanding of the new ones.

He stayed with his peoples for many turns of the moon, unable to wonder through the Songlines as he would usually do and travel to each nation indiscriminately, a deep pit in his belly slowly forming as he watched more and more people arrive on floating monsters, all with the same look in their eye.

Of world-tired bitterness, of hunger for what he had and what he could give them. A lust not for flesh but for land. It scared him, the violence that seemed to hum at their bidding, a self-ensured right that they knew best.

He rarely travelled into their settlement like he had at the beginning, curiosity emboldening him then where fear replaced it now, as the strange collection of buildings expanded rapidly. He watched as trees were cut down for their houses, and critical hunting grounds were divided up for their farms.

He watched, but unlike the ways of those he had known before his first breath, they did not plant seedlings to replace those they had taken, nor switched fields to allow the game that had been slaughtered to replenish, and his people went to bed with their stomachs unfilled.

These people lived by him, through his resources and at the expense of his own, and yet he could only find a glimmer of their lifeforces on the edges of his consciousness, loyalty strong to a homeland across the sea they spoke of with a bitter envy, nostalgia and longing heavy on their tongues as if they had not been placed here by the same very people.

“Britain, well, England to be precise.” A mother patted her child’s head, absentmindedly answering his question of home as she hung drying clothes out in the sun. “One day we’ll return, after your Pa serves his bit and gets his letter, and I’ll show you where we grew up. You’ve never seen a greener sight than that countryside!”

And then she looked at the sun soaked brown and green bush that surrounded them, a wrinkle in her nose, and he drew back from where he lingered, just another face in the crowd, and was startled to realise that his cheeks burned with shame at her disregard.

Why would he care what this woman thought of him?

But he had a name to the mysterious homeland, and only after a terrible sickness grew through his peoples, wiping out so many that some nights he found his body crying blood with no wounds, he found a face to it as well.

He came from across the waters like his people, blond spikey hair and deep green eyes framed with bushy eyebrows, and he knew as soon as the nation stepped foot off his boat, that time had run out.

There was no point in hiding, and they met a little outside the settlement of Sydney, underneath hardy gum trees.

Green eyes met and he suddenly became conscious of the slow changes that had occurred on his body, the lightening of his skin and the thickening of his brows and saw the reasons why plainly in the other’s own features.

“New South Wales, I presume?” A thick accent he had heard from so many of the people that now occupied him haloed his words, and he had the urge to shout:

No! No! I am not this punishment you have made, this mockery of my lands. I am the Dharug of the coast, the Wiradjuri of the bush, the Mardu of the desert! I am all these and thousands of more, culture and language brimming under my fingertips and painting my insides!

But his tongue faltered in the face of the power this man emulated, at his raised eyebrow from the continued silence, and he realised that these words he imagined had been in English, not one of the thousands he could have called his own before.

“Yes,” he said softly, and his own cowardice made him want to burn, hotter than even the harshest sun in his summers. “I’m New South Wales.”

The nation across from him smiled, not particularly pleasant in any way, before nodding. “And I am England. You’ll be coming with me, I think.”

There was no room to argue, and so New South Wales did as he was bid, head low and heart lower.

 -------------

Historical Notes:

1.  “Looked after by his people for centuries, carefully moulded to fit a way of life and ecosystem that had held for thousands of years.”  Aboriginal settlement and culture has been dated back to around 60,000 years, and the system of land management used was complex and careful, even contrasted with modern Australia’s attempts. Burn patterns were used to stimulate growth in both plants and animal populations as well as prevent bush fires. This was called “fire-stick farming”. If you want to know more, Dark Emu by Bruce Pascoe is a good place to start.

2. “Starving half to death” The first fleet (the one that landed in 1788) faced mass starvation like many first colonies set up around the world due to the unfamiliar climate, spoilt seed from England and the earth’s soil not being compatible with traditional crops.

3. “If I survive the fucking trip back” The conditions of the convicts brought on the first fleet were… not good, to put it lightly. And I couldn’t fit it in the fic, but the cost back to England anyway was pretty high, because of the geographical location.

4. The Wiradjuri Nation was one of the largest Aboriginal Nation’s closest to the Sydney basin. The peoples had many (sometimes violent) interactions with the first settler’s.

5. Songlines- These were the Aboriginal walking routes that crossed the country, linking important sites and locations. They describe the features and directions of travel in a song that had to be sung and memorised for the traveler to know the route to their destination.

6. “They did not plant seedlings to replace those they had taken…” The sustainability of Aboriginal Peoples on the land was well known. Country was and is an important part of both cultural and spiritual connections.

7. “Get’s his letter…” She’s talking about a “Certificate of Freedom” which would allow travel back to Britain. The father probably already has a “Ticket to Leave” which allowed convicts to work for themselves provided that they remained in a specified area.

8.“Terrible sickness” This was of course smallpox, which like in the America’s significantly impacted the native population. Up to around 70% of the native population died.

9. “New South Wales.” What, you say? Isn’t Australia’s name Australia? Not until 1817, officially! Australia was just known as the colony of New South Wales for a while, until English explorer Matthew Flinders, who was the first to circumnavigate the continent in 1803, used the name 'Australia' to describe the continent on a hand drawn map in 1804. The name “Australia” was officially adopted in 1817 after a recommendation by Governor Lachlan Macquarie to the British Colonial Office.

10. “I am the Dharug of the seaside, the Wiradjuri of the bush, the Mardu of the desert!” I chose these three Nations (it is incorrect terminology to call them tribes or clans) randomly, to showcase the wide variety of Peoples and Nations. IT MUST BE NOTED THERE ARE MANY INDIGENOUS NATIONS ACROSS AUSTRALIA, all with different cultures, language and heritage. I’ll link a map of Indigenous Australia, because I think the visual imagery is worth understanding it.

https://aiatsis.gov.au/explore/map-indigenous-australia

Please, if anyone has any criticisms or thinks this is disrespectful in anyway, let me know! I have tried my best to represent accurately what this time period was like, and don’t mean to offend anyone.

[seldomscilence16]

Whumptober Day 2: Nowhere to Run

Fandom: Avengers

Prompts;

Cornered

Caged

Confrontation

Day 2 of Whumptober, wow I cant believe im doing this, these are probably the quickest and shortest stories ive ever written.

Tony knows theres a quote that he'd love to use right now. Something from an older movie, something about not cornering babies or something, but all his brain power is currently being used elsewhere.

Tony didnt like the other side of this. Not that he much liked being kidnapped either, but the other side of it sucked majorily. Especially when the people were kidnapped because of him. He thought being on a super hero team would keep things like this from happening. Sure he'd been kidnapped since the invasion (not that the team was aware of it anyway) but that he could handle, hes been saving himself since he was 5.

And of all his teammates, Bruce and the spy twins were not who he'd expect to be kidnapped. Sure Nat and Clint were human ish, but they were SPIES, and Bruce was the freakin HULK. It just didnt compute, and when did villians get smart enough to think of kidnapping teamates to get him to do things!?

And they were even smart enough to put him in such a time crunch they had zero time to plan anything. Every tick of the clock (mental clock as it was) was another foot of the walls closing in on him, an extra shot of adrenline that had his heart beating painfully against the reactor and his lungs constricting tighter and tighter.

His half an hour was almost up, the live feed of his teammates and the count down was only making him nervous but he couldnt bear to have it out of his sight. The device in front of him was rudimentary at best compared to what he could do with a bit more time, but it would work, the reactor was the important part anyway. Always the freakin reactor.

He puts it in a case, like those cliche movies, and books it to the meet up, Jarvis playing the livefeed for him and a soothing voice in his ear. He should have left a note or something, Cap would be mad hes sure, Pepper and Rhodey furious. But that would be someone elses problem, he only had one thing on his mind.

Keep the spies from being shot and a drugged up Bruce being launched attached to a rocket. (He didnt know what the man could survive and didnt want to test it.)

"JARVIS, how they doin?" He focus' on directions and birds and things that pass, to ensure he can actually make it to the rendevu.

"Alive sir. Annoyed in Ms. Romanoffs case, Bored in Mr. Bartons. I'm afraid Dr. Banner has been given another dose, and is incoherant still."

"Any chance they've found a way out yet?"

"...It does not seem so sir."

Tony curses vehemently, glancing at his teammates. Nat and Clint both wear iron prisoner gauntlets, to keep their hands unusable, chained to the bars of their cages, spread to further imobile them, legs tied together- and of course guns ready to shoot when the timer hits zero. Bruce- as mentioned before- is collared with several needles attached to it, and bound to a honest to god rocket.

Whoever was stupid enough to take them, would be dead. Tony would make sure of that, ledger be damned. He might of only had half an hour, but hes Tony Stark, and no one messes with his team.

The meet up is too close to a warehouse to be a coincidence, one of their many mistakes. A mere four people are waiting for him, and hes a little insulted, if not for a previously mentioned dead mans switch, Tony would blow them all up here and now.

"JARVIS, you know what to do. Remember, priority is the others, and if things go wrong, you know where my updated will is."

"...Yes sir." JARVIS was against it, but Tony was too determined to be deterred.

He lands, steps out of his armor, and feels JARVIS' departure, though his eyes stay trained on the people before him.

"Welcome Stark, bring what we asked?" The man he'd garnered was in charge over their interactions.

"In the case. But I want that timer shut off, they're safe first before I hand over anything."

"Are you really in the position to negotiate?"

"They die, and not only do you not get this thing, but you'll end up dead too. I have a record im sure you've reffered to."

This causes pause at least, they all fidget and have a quiet conversation. The count down continues in Tonys mind, but he carefully puts out nonchalance, free hand in his pocket as he leans back just slightly. Never show weakness.

"Fine." A laptop in one of the others hands, some quick typing, and the screen is flipped to show him the disarmed timer, guns, and rocket.

Now he has the tech guy, the leader, and the muscle. He moves forward finally, a pace between uncaring and not quite rude. He opens the case when hes a few feet away, watches the mans face light up as he takes the device and inspects it. The case is put aside, Tony knows what comes next, and while they think it is the last step, that there will be no further confrontation, they will be sorely mistaken. Tony wonders if he'll get to see their faces when they realize they were outsmarted by the man they underestimated.

"Now," mischief swims in his unhinged eyes as he looks to Tony, "show me how to connect the Reactor, how to start it."

Tony moves his shirt aside, heart beating harshly, as he twists

And pulls.

Its easy enough to connect the two things, even simpler to show the man how to opperate it.

"And how do I know this thing works?"

Tony makes a show of stumbling, moving away from the group and towards the nearest tree, leaning on it heavily.

"Try it out for all I care. Just let my teammates go."

He sneers, turing to consult with his group, all the better as they huddle close. They are newbs, they may have gotten the drop on 3 of the Avengers, but that was their only accomplishment. Tony could almost feel sorry for them, if he didnt detest them so.

His heart flutters, chest spasma, his knees give out, breath harder to pull in now. Still he watches, watches as the tech gestures to the trees, how they make a space and point their 'weapon', he cant quite see their faces, at least not all of them, but the one muscle guys he can see is enough.

The wave of energy that comes with the activation of the device is intense enough to bend the branches of the trees and blow up a large cloud of durt, but from Tonys hiding spot he still gets to peak at the destruction left behind. No fallen or burnt forest, no crater of disentegrated anything. Just four bodies, a mere smoking crisp of what they once were.

His disguised reactor was nothing more than a self distructing decoy. It could keep him alive for a time, even power the suit, but one wrong move? And you get this. A sure way to solve situations such as this, one made in a fit of paranoia, and one he was glad for. Even if it now means his slow death as shrapnel inches ever closer to his heart.

He slumps now, his part of the plan completed. Stares up at the sky as best he can, thinking of things left undone and red ledgers and the ones left behind. Its not quite how he thought he'd go out, no blaze of battle glory, or assasination attempt. Instead it will be the slow one taken from him all those years ago, in the hot desert.

His eyes fall closed at some point, waves of pain wracking his body, curled on his side in hopes to relieve, of course its in vain though, he can just picture his heart now-whats left of it- being torn to shreds.

Did he say goodbye to his bots? To JARVIS?

Why is the air so thin? Why cant he move? Is he trapped? What happened??

He must be trapped, hes dying, no he needs to get out, but why? Where is everyone? Why whywhywhywhyw-

Theres noise... so far away. Is he underground? Caged and buried!? HELP, JARVIS please-

"ONY! Listen, you gotta calm down! The new arc is almost here I promise! Just stay with me!"

The warehouse was so close, was it to taunt him with these visions? To feed him false hope in a never ending world of a fantasy life where he may actually have people that care? Jokes on them, he has long since accepted... that he is not the one anyone WANTS.

"Come on man, just try and breathe. Jar will be here any minute, you got us out, we're here now."

Well hes heard of two faced but this is ridiculous. Hes pretty sure fusing Clint and Bruce had not been a threat, but there they are, two heads in a pair of shoulders. Theres one head theres two, three fourfivesixse- where was he going with this?

"We're gonna have a talk about this Kotenok, this self sacrificing theme our team has going is going to turn me grey."

"Yerstll perty."

"Not the point, I dont like seeing you so close to death."

Something is running through his hair, gentle and soothing, he hopes its not snakes, that would suck.

"I can see JARVIS now buckethead, just a little longer."

He shudders and curls tighter as his chest tightens like a vice, splintering whatevers between its jaw. His eyes slip closed to panicked shouts, and his visions fade.

...

"I swear Tony if you ever do something like this again, I'll... sic Pepper, Rhodey, Happy and JARVIS on you!" Steve paces by the window unable to be still.

"That threat doesnt exactly-"

"Anthony! I have brought the biggest bear of well wishes I could find! I was told slaughtering a live one in your honor was frowned upon so I hope this will do!" The bears bigger than he is and Tony will treasure it forever.

"Thanks big-"

"Tony! You're Alive!" Bruce bursts through the door, disheiveled and out of breath.

"Yes Brucie bear, and youre coher-"

"They told me what you did, we're setting up a talk about how much you mean to us as soon as youre well enough to leave. You cant keep doing this, the Hulk and I forbid it."

"Forbid-!?"

"Potts just picked Rhodes up from the airport, just to warn you." Natasha slinks in and perches on the edge of his bed.

"Airport?? Why the hell did I even give him a s-"

"I found balloons with our faces on them! Our FACES!" Clint has enough balloons to float a small dog, and they fill the ceiling like the bear overfills the visitors couch.

"Yes, I had to paten them-"

"YOU KNEW!?"

"ANTHONY STARK YOU ARE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE!"

"Can I finish one sentence?"

Pepper fumes as she and Rhodey rush in,

"No!"

"Im gonna wrap you in bubble wrap and keep you in a padded wagon if you keep trying to kill me like this."

"I believe I was keeping people from being killed. Minus... the guys that got killed but they were lame."

"How many times am I gonna have to tell you you matter to us before you actually get it?" Pepper squeezes his hand, tight and trembling, tears in her eyes that make his already tender heart squeeze.

"I'm sorry, I didnt have much time... I couldnt watch anyone die. I couldnt stand by when I could do something.... you guys matter to me, no matter how frustrating you are, so I did what I could. But I am sorry for worrying you all."

"We'll have to remind you more that your safety and wellbeing are just as important to us брат, (omg guys its pronounced Brat but means brother I cant so true) but thank you, for saving us." Natashas hand is warm on his ankle, but her words are warmer.

"Aye, I wish to have as much time as I'm able with you all, I am honored to both fight and exist with you." He bows his head, fist over his heart.

"Theres only one of you Tony, and we would like to keep him around." Bruce gives a small smile, eyes shining with truth.

"I was wrong in the hellicarrier, and Im sorry for it, Im glad to call you a friend." Steve has stopped pacing, standing tall and speaking every word with meaning and warmth.

"You're the reason we were able to become a family dude, stick around and enjoy it would ya." Clint pats his other ankle with a smirk, thats both kind and nervous.

"We'll tell ya everyday if we have to Tones." Rhodey ruffles his hair and Tonys eyes well up against his will. He blinks frantically, refusing to let a single one fall, before offering a hesitant smile.

"I cant promise I'll stop scaring you guys, I'll still protect you guys with my all, but I'll try to be better about the process." He pauses to breathe and swallow the lump in his throat, "and thanks... it means a lot."

[rainreignrayn]

Obliviate (Chapter 12: Chasing After A Train)

Despite her agreement with Theo, Hermione spent the next four hours in the library. Piled before her were twelve volumes on Magical Herbs and Their Climates, four books on the origins of spell and charm-making, and only two books on the Fidelius Charm. All were illusioned as various editions of Runes in the Ancient World and Magical Philosophies of the Muggles—lest Madam Pince begin her usual inquiry and judgement in passing.

She was currently analyzing Origins of Spellmaking and finally feeling as though she was ready in some fractional sense. Picking up her book by the edges, Hermione stood up from the oak table and took a few quiet steps until she was fully hidden in between two aisles of shelves. She pressed her back against the side of the sturdy shelf and slid to the ground, stretching her legs out in front of her and crossing them at the ankles with the book placed delicately on her lap. 

She closed her eyes, muttering the spell over and over—solidifying the memory, the movement of her wand, the cadence of her voice. She practiced this for several more seconds before she opened her eyes again and took a deep breath, casting a muffliato for her aisle. 

Raising her left hand, Hermione closed it into a fist as she verbalized the spell she created with a firm conviction—and then slammed the palm of her right hand against the thumb of her left fist. 

Her breath caught in her throat when, floating before her, was a perfect duplicate of the book in her lap. Unchanging. Not a charm—not something that would ever fade away with prolonged distance or spark with close proximity. Not something that would disappear one day in a month or two. 

She made something real. She duplicated magic.

Spell upon charm upon spell could be cast on her creation and it wouldn’t collapse. Untraceable. Of course, she had tests to perform to ensure this, but it was the best leap in progress she could ever have hoped for. 

Hermione glanced at all the books on her study table. She could have all of them—and more. Not just books—wands, potions, herbs, supplies. All without raising a hint of suspicion. 

Everything they’d need to survive.

She cast away her silencing spell and gazed at the new book in wonder, too scared to hold it, to believe it. Everything was identical, down to the crease of the pages and the imprints of dead mayflies.

For the first time, Hermione had found clarity. She was already thinking up a list of all the libraries she’d pillage, all the books she’d have. But this spell was as dangerous as it was helpful. If her incantation was heard by the wrong ears… 

Hermione had so much work to do. This milestone only opened up another door to another maze. She had to think. She needed space without people and silence and privacy to speak it all out without looking manic.

She needed the lake, damn it. She spent so many hours talking to the kraken after McGonagall’s meeting (with a silencing spell that time, because who knew if Snape required the mer-people to report to him? Especially with the lake incident. 

But there wasn’t time, and the lake was surrounded by students basking in the Saturday sun. 

She tried to reassure herself. It was okay. This was the last thing she needed before they left. Be thankful. 

***

There was a timid knock at the dormitory door, and Hermione was in no mood to receive it. 

From two in the afternoon to now, late in the evening, she hadn’t moved from her shelter under her covers. Her day spanned from the meeting with McGonagall ten hours earlier to obliviating her parents to her encounter with the Slytherin boys to making history in the library all the way to duplicating books from the restricted section and rifling through the Potions supply closet.

She kept the curtains of her bedpost closed and tucked tight, and ignored Lavender and Parvati’s chattering. They tried to talk to her when they returned from lunch and found her still wallowing in bed, but with a swift kick of her heel against the side of the curtains they hovered on sent them away, muttering about how she and Ron probably had a fight and how it was a good riddance for Ron. 

Bitch.

It couldn’t be them again because they had never knocked once in the past six years. It wasn’t Ginny, either, because she never learned the motion.

So it was Harry and Ron. 

Hermione groaned out a reluctant “Come in” and listened to the two boys shuffling in. The door creaked shut behind them, and Ron’s tall silhouette met her line of sight. 

“Er, ‘Mione?” Ron began hesitantly. “Are you alright?”

Harry’s shadow joined his best friend’s. “Yeah, we didn’t see you all day, and Parv said you hadn’t left your bed.”

She wanted to shut them out. She wanted to choke out the sound of their questions. She wanted to choke herself, because Merlin, who had she become? Why was she feeling this way towards her two best friends? What happened to all the years they spent side by side? Why did she feel like she was the one throwing it all away?

Sometimes she had good days with them. And then it would all reset.

But she had a duty.

Hermione reached out her right arm and untucked the curtain in between them, pushing it aside. “I’m fine,” she assured them. She tried to offer a smile but feared it leaned more toward a grimace. “My stomach just hurts.”

Harry’s worry was evident throughout his face. His glasses were slightly askew (Hermione could never understand how the imbalance never bothered him) and his hair ruffled. His red flannel shirt crinkled with him as he took a seat beside her hip and placed a gentle hand on her arm. “Should we take you to Madam Pomfrey? Or—or we can try a spell—”

Sweet Harry. What had he done to deserve her distance? Her bestest friend. Her brother. 

The line of her mouth softened at his concern. “Oh, Harry. I’m alright, truly.”

Her eyes bounced between him and Ron, who was standing awkwardly to her left. His lips were twisted into a frown, and he fiddled with the frayed edges of his nightshirt. “It’s funny, I thought that on our last night I’d want to see everyone, maybe play a game. Dance. Sing.” She sighed and clasped her hand onto Harry’s. “But all I seem to be able to do is lay here. I can’t even think. I still feel unprepared, but I can’t acknowledge it in my mind.”

Harry gazed into her eyes despondently, just listening. Ron took two strides around the foot of her bed and sat beside Harry with her separating them. He took her hand as well, and she turned over onto her back. 

“I dunno, Hermione. I think it’s good. You’ve been thinking too much these past few weeks. We don’t even see you anymore.” He turned towards Harry, who nodded in agreement. “In less than twelve hours, we’re gone. There’s not much else we can do. I think we should just enjoy the time we have left here… and say goodbye to Hogwarts.” Ron inhaled deeply, and Harry squeezed her hand. 

Hermione had nothing to say. As usual. She almost snorted out loud. Since when had that become her usual? She used to be a snotty know-it-all, and she loved it that way.

Harry spoke up again. “If you’re tired, then you should rest. We’ll all see each other in the morning.” He tilted his head. “Was it three in the morning that we’re leaving? Or four?”

“Four.”

Ron lifted his chin in determination. “Alright, then. We’ll see each other in eight hours. Rest up ‘till then, yeah?”

Hermione only smiled at them, which they took as their leave. But as Harry and Ron moved to stand, she tightened her grip on their hands. 

They watched her expectantly.

These were her brothers. Whatever rot that was taking hold of her heart, she would fight it. They had done nothing but love her. Sure, maybe they were somewhat ignorant at times, but she was over-observant. What was their trio if not balanced?

A small smirk danced on her lips. She pushed her body up and scooted back until she met the headboard. “One last shit-talking session?”

***

Harry and Ron left her dorm grinning like idiots an hour later, just as Lavender and Parvati came stumbling back in, giggling and drunk. Hermione regarded the side-smile she gave Ron on her way in, and then she took note of how Parvati’s face dropped when she noticed it, too. 

It reminded her of herself in Fourth Year, when Ron only saw her as… well, as Hermione. Nothing special, nothing pretty, nothing worth infatuating about. Parvati looked to be in the same boat, and Hermione wished she could tell her how much better it feels once that jealousy and hopelessness passes.

There were better people worth their time.

Well, maybe not better in regards to morals and actions. In Hermione’s case, at least. 

Parvati entered their bathroom with a slamming door behind her, and Lavender collapsed onto her bed and immediately knocked out, shoes and drool and all. 

Hermione felt a lot of things in that static moment, but for the first time, she felt grateful. And hopeful. Because, she realized, even if they died in two days or two years, they would all be together. They would be fighting for good, and being together was all that mattered.

Hermione felt like she was thirteen again.

She waited for Parvati to turn in for the night, which thankfully took not even ten minutes. Her roommate left the bathroom with a damp hairline and a bitter scowl fixed on her face. She only glanced at Hermione before crawling into bed and pulling her curtains shut. 

Hermione lay still for another twenty minutes, just to be safe. Once she was sure to be the only conscious witch in the dormitory, her wand flicked out a muffliato around her bed and her torso swung over the edge of the bedpost to pull her backpack out from underneath. She levitated her trunk to rest on the blanket pooled at her feet, and then spelled her own curtains shut. A murmured lumos lit up her small sanctuary.

And then Hermione Granger prepared for her deep-night escapade.

She flipped the muggle backpack upside down and emptied it of its contents then discarding the bag behind her. She brought all of the objects back to their original size, and then began sorting. 

Of course, there were the extra bottles and vials and mini-cauldrons they would need for an assortment of potions she intended to brew—after they were able to acquire all necessary ingredients that even Hogwarts lacked in the professors’ supply.

Her most important asset, though, was arguably the beaded bag her mum had gifted her on her eleventh birthday. It was small enough to shove into a jacket packet (with force) but the lining was elastic enough to not require shrinking charms for most of the items she was bringing. 

She spent her time in the library that morning also researching alterations to preexisting charms—and that, as well, was a mission accomplished. It was how her tiny purse could now hold up to about one hundred and fifty kilos without wavering. Basically, in a worst-case scenario she could probably toss Harry and Ron in there and walk off. Although she did wonder if the charm came with free air supply…

Hermione lined down the cauldrons first, and then placed anything containing glass within the safety of the curved rims. All the books went down in a stack somewhere off to the side (there was little concept of space and dimension in the handbag) and then she pulled all of her sweaters, pants, and scarves from her Hogwarts trunk and threw it in. Every last cent of her money, too. What else? She only had her boots and trainers…

She knew Harry and Ron were packing their own bags, so she would just put theirs in with her things when they left. So all of her personal items were taken care of. 

Now for the tent. She pulled plain white linen sheets out of her trunk (she’d sever tree branches to hold it up when the need arose) and packed Harry’s cloak and the Marauder’s map as well. He’d given it to her for safekeeping, as she was the one planning their exit.

And then she packed an endless quill, beeswax-coated thread, and several stacks of parchment. She tucked it safely under the caldrons (if there was an under) and cinched the bag tight.

She reached over to shut the lid of the trunk when a small blue box pushed to the bottom corner caught her eye. It was the paint kit her dad had sent her in Third Year… because she was so stressed with her workload. She never mentioned the specifics in her letters home, but they knew enough.

Unwind, my ‘Mione. I’ll paint, and you paint, and we’ll send it to each other.

She missed Thomas Granger the way she missed a train—chasing after it and knowing it wouldn’t come back. 

The hole he left in her heart was gaping. And now she wanted to lie on the tracks and wait for the next one to run her over. 

Hermione gingerly lifted the box and made a decision right then and there.

Unwind.

-

rainreignrayn on AO3

[natp20]

when nydas okiro said “i don’t want to believe it. i do not believe it to be true. but if there’s even a chance that it could be, we cannot. YOU cannot”

when he said “the material goods mean nothing anymore. only life. that is what we will save. that is how this beacon - this city - will survive. our hoard means NOTHING”

when he said “gold? gold means nothing, if you do not use it to lift people up. gold is a resource by which mortaldom climbs”

when he said “it was real for us. those who survived will remember. it will inspire them to dream of things far greater”

when he said “brother, you will always be you. i will make sure”

[dovesndecay]

I'm trying very hard to reconcile my own personal instinct to recoil from people being encouraged to try homeschooling with my own knowledge that the American education system is designed to be inconsistent, abusive, and beyond substandard. I do completely understand why people want to pull their children out of it.

But as someone who fell into the cracks between Homeschool and Formal education, I sincerely caution parents seeking to homeschool their children to be very careful in how you go about it

There are laws governing who can and how you can homeschool that differs from state to state. In some places, you can be any ol' Joe Blow off the street, pull your kids out, and teach them whatever you want. In some, you have to have a background in education, or you have to teach a specific curriculum. And in others, there's a mix between the two extremes.

Sometimes you have to keep and send transcripts, and if you continue the process through to "graduation", there may be no standard for issuing a graduation certificate that they can use in the future as proof of education. My diploma that tells employers I have the minimum education in the US was printed off of Google in 2009.

In Louisiana, at least in the late 90s/early aughts, all you had to do was let the school board know you intended to provide education at home, register a "school name" and then re-send that registration each semester.

I was pulled out of school in the year 2000, iirc, following a move from New Jersey to Louisiana, where I was actually significantly behind due to the differences between the grade curriculum in each state. In NJ, I was learning the times tables for the first time, and in LA, we were supposed to be dividing fractions. And then, Katrina hit, and we moved around a decent amount, and for the years between 2005 and 2009, I think I just didn't exist as far as the educational system was concerned.

I was a fat undiagnosed neurodivergent queer biracial kid with heap loads of trauma, and the struggles I experienced within the formal education system were absolutely hugely informed by those aspects of my existence. I was being bullied for all the reasons, struggling with my neurodivergency that made all my schoolwork so damn hard, and my family -- already fairly outside of the societal norm in a number of ways, while fitting in perfectly well in others -- did not have and was not provided with the resources to effectively ensure an accessible and consistent form of education for me.

The education system in the US is not just one type of failure, and taking it into your own hands, in my experience and the experiences of many other formerly homeschooled adults, may not do more than give your child a new form of educational trauma.

I cannot do more than the most basic addition and subtraction in my head. I do not have a comprehensive understanding of American, let alone worldwide, history. Science? I got nothing. People talk about learning from the "School of hard knocks" but no, really, I had to learn a lot of practical life skills and knowledge through fucking up and hoping for the best until someone was kind enough to help me out.

(If you've been here on my blog for more than a minute, you might think to yourself, "Reyah, that's still true" and sweet honey baby darling, you're not wrong lmao)

I am lucky enough that my parents are very educated people, were always willing to talk about things with me, and I learned concepts very well through discussion, so I was able to pick up a lot of the skills and knowledge I needed to survive as an adult essentially through social and cultural osmosis. But there's a lot that I missed out on, and struggle as an adult to rectify. (And I'm not even going to pretend that there isn't a lot that I had to unlearn.)

So instead, I exist as someone failed by the educational system in a country that, in my opinion, nearly deifies diplomas to an unhealthy degree (no pun intended), and there's a lot of trauma tied up in that.

To make it super clear: College websites give me panic attacks, and there was a period of time where I absolutely browsed those sites as a form of self-harm. (I no longer do this, I promise)

And I want to be incredibly clear that I am not saying that our children should simply continue to be suffering under these incredibly abusive systems, or that you shouldn't give homeschooling an honest to goodness attempt. Especially if the public system is unsafe for your child.

I don't blame my parents in the slightest for the situations we were in during my childhood because I can pinpoint the specific systems that failed my family every step of the way. Education, healthcare, employment, housing -- none of those systemic failures are the personal fault of my parents doing their best in a country that was not designed to actually help people in need.

I also cannot say that I would have been "better off" staying in public school. Maybe I would have been in some aspects, and worse off in others. I know several recently-dropped out young adults that did so due to a hellish combination of abuse, bigotry, insufficient or outright being denied accommodations for disabilities, and more. I can't say that I would have had a better experience than them, or even a particularly different one, if I had remained enrolled.

I have a good friend, only slightly older than me, who had a very similar experience to mine who is now a college professor, and is still unpacking the traumas of his experiences. I cannot sing his praises enough -- he's probably the main reason I feel remotely confident talking about this at all, let alone in a public forum. I have a lot of personal shame wrapped up in my lack of formal education, and his ability to be open about his schooling history has greatly informed my own to an incredible degree.

I hope that talking about my own experiences with homeschooling will give parents the opportunity to avoid putting their children through similar trials to mine, whether by seeing the pitfalls early enough to detour or by seeking other means to provide safe and accessible education to their children.

If homeschooling is something your family is genuinely interested in pursuing, I would ask that you seek to work with local teachers, your libraries, mental health professionals, and seek out the experiences of homeschooled adults. Especially from those who have similar difficulties to your child.

Most importantly: Listen to your kid, and if they can't advocate for themself, for whatever reason, you need to be prepared to step in for them. (Even against yourself, sometimes.)

[inariter]

Stay With Me-3

Masterlist:

Stay With Me-1

Stay With Me-2

Stay With Me-3

Stay With Me-4

Stay With Me-5

Stay With Me-6

                                                           -------

“Bullet wound, straight through the chest. We’ve been able to keep her stable but BP is decreasing. Breathing is shallow, heart rate is steady though slowly increasing. She got lucky, it doesn’t seem like it kicked an artery or damaged too much.”

She could feel herself go in and out of consciousness, catching a few select words here and there, watching as they pushed her past blinding lights. So many voices echoed through her ears, familiar voices of her colleagues. Worried out of their minds.

A part of her wanted to reach up, tell them she would fight as hard as she could. That’s as much as (Y/n) could promise, knowing damn the things that could happen, the things that could go wrong within a moment. Even with the easiest surgeries, something could always goes haywire, nothing was quite set in stone until they all see it through to the end.

“You’re in the best of care, (Y/n). Stay strong and come back to us.”

Terrence, she knew his voice too well. The two been together since their residency, best friends who were always there for one another and eventually came as a packaged deal for any hiring hospital. Neither could imagine not working alongside each other.

“I don’t know what I will do without you. And I know damn well he can’t either, we both do. I’m not sure how he will go on if you die.”

Course, how could she forget OA. His sorrowful eyes still stained in her mind, the tears which pooled in his eyes as he tried to keep her heart beating a minute longer. His worry so endless for her, checking every day no matter how tiring his day was. Making sure first and foremost that she was fine before even thinking of himself and the exhaustion that battered his body.

Even on their precious days off, spending that oh so special time with one another, OA ensured it was just them in their own little world. Ensuring that nothing else would dare intrude. (Y/n) could remember his gentle touch and his attentive behavior, making sure she was always as comfortable as could be. (Y/n) often wondered how she got so lucky to find a guy like him. She wondered what would had happened if Kristen never got hurt in the first place, wondering if they would have met on some other occasion or if this was just one in a million chance.  

“So if you can do anything, survive this for OA and tell him just how much you love him.”

And the only thing (Y/n) hated was how long she waited to utter those words. These months that she cherished so and still she waited only till now..only for something like this to happen to finally speak what’s always been on her heart and mind, though mainly her heart.

All she wanted now was to go back in time and tell without any of this happening.  Because in the first time in awhile, (Y/n) felt like she could let herself love again, to open her heart up again to love someone else as much as she loved OA. After her last relationship, after allowing herself go through so much pain and heartache, (Y/n) was sure she was done with romance until OA came along. She never told him just how much he did for her.

(Y/n) just wanted to see OA again and embrace him like she was going to lose him.To kiss him until they both lost their breathe, to do so much more than she did. To whisper how much she loved him again and again. To tell him so much, to do so much more than what she did.

“Dammit! She’s crashing.”

“(Y/n), don’t you dare die on me! I swear to God I will beat your ass if you do.”

She only hoped she still had time left. 

“Get OA on the phone now! If worse comes to worse, he needs to say goodbye.”

[sinfulskywalker]

Do you have more Dinluke A/B/O headcanons ? Asking for... A friend.

Well tell your friend I got a fuck ton.

Din = Alpha. Luke = Omega. Grogu = they don't know he hasn't presented yet but he's adorable nonetheless.

Alpha Din can get grumpy if he comes home from an unsuccessful hunt. Din is a hunter. It's basically in his DNA and his brain is constantly screaming : provide, provide. He feels worthless coming home with a handful of hares. He should be bringing home several deer or something.

Luke calls him silly and kisses his cheek. Din provides enough, he would tell his Alpha while making the stew with the meat Din so lovingly caught for them. Luke's own Omega hormones go crazy when Din comes home from a hunt. He's rugged, dirty, sweaty and downright filthy. Luke blames it on his early heat.

The small family live in a hut built by Din. It's warm in the winters and in the summers they air it out.

Luke is affectionate as he is deadly. Do not cross him, nor assume just because he is an Omega he too cannot hunt or kill. He has. Many times. Din puts a stop to that when he mates with him. Din wants to be the sole keeper or the family. The one they replied on. Luke compromises. They both are needed and if either feel weak then one steps up.

Din has a suspicion that Grogu will be a beta. Not that betas are bad, but pre alpha's already have a knack for hiding and hunting even when inexperienced. Omegas are more shy and reserved. Grogu is neither or a mix. He's Grogu. Din however does his best to ensure Grogu knows how to cut meat, use knives properly and safely and Luke ensures Grogu learns to cook, clean and men his own clothes. They instill these survival tactics to their pup because no matter how he presents they both know they won't be with him forever.

Luke's heats are never longer than two days. But damn are they a long two days. Grogu is usually sent to spend a night at Uncle Boba's and play with his Rancor or Auntie Cara's. During that time Luke gets his brains filled with the lovely Omega toxins and hormones as his body craves and calls out to Din for his knot and to fill him with babies.

During Din's rut it's a bit more calmer considering an Omega has to deal with their heat all day but an Alpha and their rut can be handled and tamed. They choose to deal with that matter when Grogu is off at lessons. It's always a nice time to cuddle and talk too as it takes usually an hour for Din's knot to deflate.

Din isn't an idiot, he knows Luke, or any Omega for that matter, want a comfortable home. So it pains him when he sees Luke carefully looking at fabrics and plush materials to make pillows with only to have to return the items or downgrade quality because they lack money. Being a hunter may be a title Din is proud of and he helps out his pack, but if it's at Luke's sufferage he doesn't want it.

He finds work as a mechanic and it helps bring in some cash flow but he'll still hunt on weekends as he cannot deny his own survival and craving needs as an Alpha.

Luke enjoys his teaching job and finds it adorable when puppies play fight. One time a pup bit him and Din went berserk.

Din would 100% fight a pup because they drew Luke's blood. (Or at least tell Grogu he has full permission to push that other pup into the sand box).

This is how sleeping goes in the Djarin household: Din on the bottom, babies on the top. With Din's arms around them to keep them warm and safe.

"Din, I have to go."

"No you do not."

"No, Din, I have to go. Let go of me."

"Then go."

"EW! Din let me use the refresher!"

"But your warm and squishy."

Luke packs Din a lunch each morning with a sweet note inside. Most Alpha's give him crap but Din loves his sweet Omega and the sandwiches always taste nicer when there's a love note from Luke or Grogu.

[fandomwriterstuff]

“We’re a well-oiled team of military-grade kindergarteners,” his best friend, and the only other human on the ship who would understand what kindergarten was, continued chastising him and his companions. “The level of education and training among the three of you eclipses that of the entire rest of the members of this operation,” Annabeth continued, pointing her finger individually at himself, his pilot Jason, and his Chief Science Officer Nico. “You know, I’m not that surprised with you, Percy, but you are our XO so you should really be more responsible,” he winced at that, still feeling a bit of imposter syndrome at being the Commander of the USS Olympus. “Jason, shouldn’t you be piloting a ship or something?” At that, he saluted her and did an about face before scampering off to get into more trouble. “And you, you’re definitely way too responsible to have gotten mixed up with this Seaweed Brain and Sparky, so what’s in this tomfoolery for you?”

Nico, the only Neptunian on the ship, shifted his large black wings self consciously under the scrutiny of their Chief of Operations. Percy, as the Commander of the vessel, felt obligated to protect his usually stoic and well-behaved… acquaintance? Di Angelo was reserved, almost standoffish, and resented anyone who tried to stick up for him for some reason, but that didn’t stop Percy’s stupid seaweed brain from doing so. Hence the acquaintance. Percy was 99% sure Di Angelo didn’t consider him a friend. But he was nice to Percy and a great officer, so Percy considered him his friend.

“It was my fault, Annie,” he used her childhood nickname carefully, not knowing whether it would soften her up or piss her off more. He was hoping for softening. “It was just another one of Jason and my dumb ideas that we thought we would need a scientist to help with, and we didn’t want to piss off Leo by involving him in it. You know how he is about his engineer and warp cores and whatnot,” Percy held his hands up placatingly. “Leave Di Angelo out of this, he has sciencey things to do, isn’t that right?” Percy side-eyed his companion who (not surprisingly) rolled his eyes.

“I try not to get involved with human pranks or even Jovian mischief, but Officer Grace and First Officer Jackson were about to be meddling with my linguistics team. It isn’t my duty to tell my superiors what to do, so I sought out the next best option, supervising and ensuring no lasting damage was done to the physical or emotional state of the linguistics team. Now,” Here Percy held in a smirk as Di Angelo shrugged. “If they caused interference with the machinery of the ship, that wouldn’t be my expertise, so I allowed it to happen and-” Percy held back a laugh as the other male started speaking even faster to get everything out as Annabeth turned redder and redder. “I’m very sorry about that, truly, but I had no control over the situation.”

“No control over the situation? You three broke our LIT machine and now we have to go back to Earth as soon as we pass close enough to fix it. Soon enough nobody on this ship will understand each other,” the woman across from them crossed her arms and Percy shrunk back a bit.

“I want to make a joke about a machine being called “LIT,” but I feel like it isn’t the right time,” he muttered. “I know the Linguistic Inhibition Technology is important, but most of us have a working understanding of at least one other language, so it shouldn’t be a huge issue, right?”

“You know it works by connecting to the implant technology in our brains, so as it shuts down one by one, members of this ship from spaces stations and planets far and wide will have no clue why they suddenly can’t understand their XO, or their Chief Officer, or their best friend. So you better explain this. And you have to tell them that we’re going straight back to Earth to fix it because no nearby planets have the same brain implant tech as us. Damn Terrans and their brand name technology copyrights,” Annabeth grumbled and finally turned around to walk off.

“Hey, you’re Terran, too!” Percy shouted after her, but she just flipped him the bird.

“She can do that?” Di Angelo asked, side-eyeing Percy.

“Yeah, she’s been my best friend since we were twelve. As long as she doesn’t undermine my authority in front of everyone else, I don’t really care. I’ve done way worse to her,” Percy laughed at the other man’s frown. “Nothing bad, just pranks and things of that sort. Maybe when we get back to Earth we can show you where we’re from. You never set foot off of the training grounds while you were in school.”

“I would… like that,” Di Angelo paused and gave Percy a soft smile.

“Great,” Percy patted the younger male on the shoulder and made his way to the Command Center.

Percy sat himself down in the rotating chair and pressed on the comms device.

“Gooooood evening crew of the USS Olympus, this is your Commanding Officer, Percy Jackson, speaking,” he smiled at the engineering crew that was scuttling by, only for one of them to pause and look at him like he was speaking a different language… Whoops.

“There was a malfunction with the Linguistic Inhibition Technology and we will be returning to Earth henceforth to repair it before the damage becomes problematic. You may experience glitches with your implant technology and may revert to only understanding your first language and those you have studied extensively. If somebody looks like they’re not understanding what I’m saying right now, please escort them to the linguistics team in Science Bay 3. Carry on. Jackson, out.” He clicked again and the mic turned off.

He sighed, this would be one of his bigger mistakes. They were supposed to be exploring, but they couldn’t do that if nobody could speak to one another. One trip home couldn’t hurt him, and he was sure Annabeth would be happy to see her father.

It wasn’t until later after the Chief Officer meeting when someone finally asked Percy about Earth. For many of the non-humans on the ship, Earth was a place to get education and training to go out in the star fleet, and they never set foot outside the campus grounds, just like Di Angelo. But people had stopped asking him questions because Earth was basically “Space Australia,” as Annabeth had explained to him. The adaptability of humans and their need to pack bond astounded many and horrified many others. So, he stopped talking about home.

It was a new member of their ship, Novax (a Vulcan who was a part of Leo’s engineering team), who asked him about it first.

“I hear Earth is 75% made of pure salt water, and is filled with animals of all kinds. Do you have a favorite water animal?” he asked Percy excitedly.

“Definitely dolphins, though they aren’t underwater creatures. Like humans they need oxygen to breathe, and come up for air very often. My favorite actual underwater species would have to be a hippocampus from Neptune. I’ve always wanted to go and see one, but my human anatomy prevents me from going on-planet,” Percy explained and sipped on his hot tea.

“There are a million creatures in the ocean and you pick one that doesn’t breathe underwater?” Clarisse grunted. His Chief Tactical Officer was a brutish Martian, but very specialized in weapons. “And your second favorite isn’t even Terran.”

“What else do you know about the ‘ocean’?” Novax breathed, leaning forward.

“Eh, not much,” Percy shrugged.

“I’m not sure I heard that correctly, maybe my LIT unit isn’t functioning well,” another member of engineering asked, Nyssa. “Your planet is 75% water and you don’t even know what is inside it?”

“I could tell you about the people who spend their life learning about what survives in the deep depths,” Percy looked up, knowing he had all of the non-Terrans hooked on every word. Even Di Angelo had paused in his note taking and was staring wide-eyed at Percy. “But I don’t know if you’d want to know.”

“No we do!” Nyssa exclaimed. “There are people who dedicate their lives to a place that’s literally not navigable by humans, the main inhabitants of the planet?”

“Well as you said, most of the planet is water. Which means that coastal communities are filled with fisherman, whalers, swimmers, and more. I could tell you about some of those. I could also tell you about the scientists that spend years of their lives building bots that can’t even come close to withstanding the pressure at the deepest depths without imploding, or I could tell you about those that do come close,” he shrugged.

“What happened to those?”

“The video feed cut out after only seeing multiple rows of sharp, jagged teeth,” Annabeth answered, her sharp grin frightening those who hadn’t noticed her. Some forgot that she was Terran, because she was also half Minervan.

“I could tell you about whales. Beautiful, they come in black and white or grey or blue. But they can be as big as almost 100 feet long. That’s as long as most pirate ships. And they could fit about 400 average sized humans in their mouths. You don’t want to cross one of them. And they only live on the surface. The things that live in the deep,” Percy shuddered for effect. There were no Neptunians on the ship, so there were no natural water dwellers there, so all of his rapt listeners were shocked by this information. “There’s the anglerfish. They light up the dark with an antenna on top of their heads, and the light lures in prey. But it’s so dim elsewhere that you don’t see their big sharp teeth until you’re right up against them,” he murmured. “Giant squids are almost as big as whales but not nearly as peaceful and beautiful. They have eight arms and two tentacles that could wrap around any boat and crush it.”

“Ten limbs?” Nyssa whispered, clearly disturbed.

“Plus, the Portuguese Man o’ War,” Percy shrugged nonchalantly. “Also known as the floating terror. It’s like a big blue jellyfish that sits innocently on top of the water with huge blue tentacles that sit just underneath with a sting strong enough to kill a full grown human.”

“Don’t worry,” Annabeth grinned that shark grin again. “Percy won’t tell you about the stories of the old days. He doesn’t want to scare you.”

“That was the not scary part?” Novax gulped.

“Anyway, I just got notified that we’ll be back on Earth in a few days, so brace yourselves,” and with that, she stood and left them all staring after her. When the door clicked shut, Percy had all eyes back on him. He shrugged.

“Don’t look at me. I wasn’t going to tell you about the kr- nevermind,” he stood. “Di Angelo, with me,” the younger officer stood, back to business and was at Percy’s side again in a moment. “Clear your schedule, you’re spending shore leave with me, pal.”

“Great,” came the deadpan reply.

“Don’t sound so somber,” Percy rolled his eyes. “I’m just going to show you the beach and maybe a good gay bar. You need to let off some steam my dude.”

The other male reddened.

“That is so… That is…” he huffed. “Highly inappropriate.” he glared down at the ground and Percy felt a little bad, maybe the guy wasn’t out? But it was clear he had a preference for males. Oh well, that foot was already in Percy’s mouth.

“Fine. But I will be attending and I am a great dancer so you’re missing out,” he winked at the flustered officer and made his way back to his cabin. It would be an interesting few days.

He made a plan with Annabeth. Day one before shore leave, Percy would spread a rumor to Novax about the kraken. Bigger than a giant squid and meaner. Known to crush entire pirate ships in the olden days.

Day two, Annabeth would mention sirens to Nyssa. Hideous creatures that could lure you in with their voices and lead you to believe you were bringing your ship in to everything you ever wanted, when in reality you would crash your ships and then drown.

Day three, Percy would tell Leo about the Megalodon. A definitely very real shark so big you couldn’t even imagine it. Percy shuddered at that one.

“But, there are some good things,” Percy was speaking to Nico Di Angelo from his Commander chair, in ear shot of some of the participants of the conversation a few nights prior. “Mermaids, the siren’s nicer cousin species. And the lost city of Atlantis. Known to be a great and bountiful city, lost to the sea and cursed by the gods to be stuck down there forever. Some believe it still exists, but it’s within the Bermuda Triangle.”

“What, pray tell, is the Bermuda Triangle,” Clarisse sighed.

“Hard to explain. Ships just… go in… and they never come out,” Annabeth shrugged. “Planes go down. Ships wreck. People who go in don’t come back out, so we don’t know if Atlantis is really there or not.”

“That’s… terrifying,” Novax whispered as he walked by.

Percy was sure he had created a healthy fear of Earth’s oceans in his crew. And he meant to, because while he loved the beach and swimming, he did want to make them shy away from the depths. They wouldn’t do well to explore it.

[omegasmileyface]

Bound by the Food Chain

"man what if there was something incorporating both the Ghost King and Ghost Hunger aus" i say, not prepared to spend weeks writing up an entire ecosystem structure for the ghost zone,

thanks @attackradish and @ectolemonades for help figuring out the science and writing!

summary: The ghostly Staff who've taken up residence in Phantom's Keep notice Danny doesn't eat any ectoplasmic food. That can't be good for him.

warnings: detailed description of ghost hunger, which is vaguely like cannibalism

words: 2830

AO3 link

===

“King Phantom, when do you feed?”

“Huh?” Danny looked up at the Keep’s Librarian, Vellum. It felt like an odd question, seeing as he was currently actively eating a sandwich he had packed up with him into the Zone. He was spending a few hours in the Keep that day since it was nice and quiet for getting work — from both realms — done, and he had brought some earth food over. Ghost plants just didn’t taste very good.

Vellum looked a little shocked, like she hadn’t realized she’d asked her question aloud. “I mean, clearly you eat human food quite a bit,” she gestured to his sandwich, “but I’ve never seen you take in any sort of ectoplasmic substance.”

Danny wasn’t an expert on the (strangely psychological) ecology of the Infinite Realms, but he was familiar with the fact that all ghosts had to take in some sort of ectoplasm if they wanted to be anything more than an inert impression of emotion. Since he had never gotten any enjoyment or significant energy from eating ghost plants or breathing in the stuff ambient in the air, he pretty much just stuck with eating human food and converting the chemical energy between his forms. He was lucky that he could do that, being part human. He knew he automatically gained some energy from the human emotions around him (including his own, another benefit of being liminal) but it was negligible. He got drained pretty easily, and he knew there were things he wasn’t trying, but… he was tired, not desperate. He’d be tired anyway, with his lack of sleep.

“That’s because I don’t. I can still use the chemical energy I get from human food in my ghost form, so…” he shrugged. “This is pretty much it.”

Vellum’s brows furrowed in concern. “Are you not a—” She pursed her lips. “Are you not tired?”

“What do you mean? I definitely eat more than a regular human, and as far as I’m aware I don’t lose any of my energy in conversion. I’m getting by.”

“I think we should talk to Dr. Marchs. I don’t know if it’s… ok, that you’re not feeding ectoplasmically.”

With some exasperation, Danny let himself be brought back to the Throne room, the preferred place for anything that could constitute a “meeting”. Apparently, talking to the Keep’s Doctor, Chef, and some other Staff members about his diet counted.

The various adult ghosts looked at Danny with shared expressions of confusion and concern from where they stood around him. He was sitting on the arm of the Throne, not the most comfortable but it still felt wrong to be properly seated in it unless necessary.

Dr. Marchs finally spoke their piece. “Forgive me for asking, Your Majesty, but… are you not a hunting-ghost?”

Danny was already out of his league culturally. He had a lot to learn. “As in… like, a predator?”

“Exactly! Your core best processes ectoplasm directly from other ghosts, correct?”

Danny paled. “I don’t… know? I tend to avoid going around, just… eating other sentient creatures.” He tried to say it in a humorous way. It didn’t work.

“So you’ve never tried! I had thought… Well, I think you must be a hunting-ghost. You put out a radiant power that is only associated with that core type.”

“None of us have seen you feeding,” added Vellum, “so we weren’t sure you didn’t just defy that association. I don’t think anyone really understands all the complications of half-human physiology.”

Dr. Marchs jumped back in easily. “It’s still just speculation. You have said that you don’t enjoy eating plants from this realm, yes?” Danny nodded. “And you don’t seem to get significant relief from human emotion. Well, we’re just going to have to have you try feeding on some ghosts.”

Danny jumped to his feet. “What?! I don’t… need that, I get by fine on human food!”

“But aren’t you tired?” pointed out the Chef. Her eyes widened. “That’s why you get so drained after using big attacks! Your energy reserves aren’t being nearly refilled.”

“I believe she’s right, Your Majesty. There’s only so much energy you can take from human food, which isn’t even alive… I think you’re always tired because your core is designed to have a level of energy that you can’t provide it without processing Vital ectoplasm.”

Danny didn’t want to admit that he was consistently pretty damn tired. Instead he tried to change the subject. Ghosts were passionate beings, and as much as he hated to take advantage of that, having one of the Keep Staff gush about one of their passions to him was much better than talking about his relationship with what was essentially cannibalism. “Vital?”

Dr. Marchs’ eyes sparkled a little. “Vital as in living, not as in essential. Ectoplasm comes in three major forms. Ambient plasm makes up most of the Realms, in environments and atmospheres and auras. All ghosts are made up of Vital plasm, and those with cores have their Obsession or Purpose imprinted into the crystal structure of their own ectoplasm, which can be turned into Charged ectoplasm. The Charged form can take up an elemental type according to the ability of its source, and it has the most capacity to hold or be converted into ectoenergy. The Charged form is used to transmit intention onto a target, so it’s generally created by Cored ghosts, who are creatures of intention, in attacks or construction. Regardless of type or state, ectoplasm processing depends on its form — Uncored ghosts can process strong human emotions or Ambient ectoplasm into the Vital type. Among Cored ghosts, hunter-ghosts can best process Vital ectoplasm, gatherer-ghosts the high-activity type of Ambient plasm found in ghost plants, and scavenger-ghosts human emotion. Additionally, Charged plasm no longer linked to the source of its intention will eventually disperse into Ambient, as its most inert form.”

Danny, sitting down, had already known part of that, but the Doctor was properly smiling at this point. Dr. Marchs blushed as they realized they had just been talking, but none of the other ghosts in the room appeared to mind.

“…Regardless, King Phantom, we should really find some blobs for you to try eating. I cannot in good conscience leave you persisting off such low energy.”

He wanted to argue, he really did, but all the Keep Staff present were looking at Danny with this pleading expression. They looked genuinely concerned, and he remembered a comment he’d heard before about some of the Staff latching onto the King with their Obsessions. Some unfortunate result of the connection they’d formed with the Keep, Danny certainly didn’t deserve it, but he did know how it felt to Obsess over taking care of someone and have them turn down that care. With the same concerned look directed back their way, he got up and was led to the Garden out back.

Danny was having second thoughts again once he found himself surrounded by blobs that had been enjoying the intricate plants and high Ambient ecto levels of the Keep Garden. They were squishy but soft, like mochi coated in a good layer of starch, each a bit smaller than his head, and they all looked at him with these big vibrant eyes. Their postures were energetic, like they expected to play a game.

Once he sat down with the rest of the small group — why did he have to have an audience? — the blobs swarmed around him, resting on the sky blue grass and on his shoulders and in the others’ laps. They looked almost as expectant as the Staff in front of him.

“I…“ he bit his lip. “I can’t justify eating a living creature when I can choose not to. I know lots of ghosts have to eat others to persist, but I have the privilege that I can eat human food instead. Since I have that option, I can’t just… end another creature so I can feel a bit better.” Hey, Sam would be proud of him.

The present Staff donned looks of confusion. An Advisor who used the Keep as a home spoke up, eyes wide with realization. “Ah! Living creatures all share a survival instinct — that’s a natural result of evolution, yes? Things that do their best to live have their genes passed on? That’s not necessary for Uncored ghosts, since they do not reproduce and therefore don’t evolve. The only instincts experienced by the Uncored are instincts to better the Realms. Unless they’ve developed a strong individual personality, the Uncored are much more interested in contributing than in persisting.”

Danny’s head tilted in curiosity. Dr. Marchs took the reins on the rest of the explanation.

“The Realms are built socially where the living realm is built physically. Our homes and well-being are made from emotion, belief, and community. So for Uncored ghosts, spawned of the dimension itself, they want their ectoplasm and energy to be where it supports those communities the most, and that means ensuring the health of the ghosts in charge. Generally speaking, the more powerful a ghost is, the more likely they are to have some importance to the Realms. The Uncored — and many Cored — can sense a ghost’s power due to how much excess ectoplasm they let off. In fact, that excess is almost immediately put off as Ambient ectoplasm, meaning that there is simply more Ambient plasm around a powerful ghost, and the Uncored are often attracted since that provides sustenance for them . It’s a mutualistic relationship where one entity feeds off another, and in the end the resources of the weaker ghosts are given to the stronger, supporting the Realms. In fact, there are some cultures who believe that converting ectoplasm into a form the Cored can process is the entire reason for the existence of the Uncored.”

Vellum smiled slightly as she added on, “It’s not an entirely accurate strategy, as the most powerful ghost around is not always going to be a hunter type. They usually are, seeing as that’s the most efficient form of feeding, but it’s not impossible to be otherwise. The result in these cases is Uncored ghosts following around said Cored ghost, and as the same aspect of community comes into play, that ghost soon ends up hanging around a hunter type, who feeds on the prey that was collected.”

Danny cringed a little at the use of the word “prey”.

He looked around at the blobs nuzzled up against him. Those who didn’t look to be something resembling unconscious were peering up at him. They certainly looked expectant, as much as something without even a permanent mouth can.

After he was silent for a few moments, another Staff member spoke up, likely wanting to lighten his mood. “They really do like you! I’m not surprised, even aside from your natural power, the role you play as High King causes ectoplasm to be magnetized to you. I’m sure they’re having a little feast themselves!”

It did not lighten his mood. Danny felt genuinely guilty. Even if he wasn’t doing it on purpose, wasn’t he effectively manipulating these creatures into offering themselves up to be eaten? It wasn’t right, to make them feel as if they want to be ended, just because he had some sort of aura.

But the gathered Staff were still concerned, and anticipatory, and, somehow, hopeful . He couldn’t turn them down at this point. He’d just have to bite into one of the little ghosts surrounding him, just once. He’d throw up, disgusted with himself, and the Staff would realize it wasn’t better for him, and the remaining blobs would remember that they don’t want to die, and they’d flee, and everybody would just leave the subject alone . He only had to try.

(The human dread he was emitting at this point must have been feeding everyone else.)

“…Okay,” he said simply, and gently picked up a blob that had been sitting on his leg.

Before he could rethink himself again, he brought it to his lips. He opened his jaw slightly wider than a human’s would likely go and, fangs instinctually extended, bit down.

Danny was familiar with the scent of ectoplasm. Copper and citrus and battery acid and salt. But when he broke the surface of the small ghost and the viscous fluid burst into his mouth, the salty and bitter aspects were lost on his tongue, replaced by a thick sweetness and the cold tingle of energy. Where his fangs pierced an inch down into the substance of the ghost, he tasted this fulfillment in its emotional ectoplasm. He’s not sure he would have been able to taste it if he weren’t part human. Still, the feeling was something distinctly ghostly, a similar satisfaction to fulfilling an Obsession or a Purpose. It was hard to feel bad, sympathizing automatically with that simple rightness. The way the emotion pressed at his brain, the way the semisolid edges of the ghost slicked against his tongue, his own self-revulsion melted to the back of his mind. The ectoplasmic flesh met his teeth with a thick resistance, but it was nothing to break past it and open up to the deeper substance. It was vibrant, a pure cool energy that pulsed against his fangs. (His core sucked it up greedily.) His mouth met the energy with a pulsing of its own, a harmonizing signal sent from his core throughout his body like a heartbeat. It came out as a low purr that vibrated deep through the charged air around him. He couldn’t help but rush to swallow, though his body absorbed it just as easily without.

The blob ghost had been the size of his foot, and now it was part of the energy making up his own form. Compared to the power his core was passively putting out, to the amount it longed to have refilled, it wasn’t all that much. Unconsciously, his core put out an ectoenergetic signal that he was ready to feed. The blobs around him nuzzled closer yet, making themselves available. Danny could feel a few other Uncored ghosts who were drifting nearby come into the garden and join them.

He looked up from his ectoplasm-stained hands at the Keep Staff. They were looking at him, relieved, pleased (even though they just watched him tear into a living thing and then absorb it into his being like it didn’t even matter, said a part in the back of his consciousness. It was hard to focus on, though. It was coming from his brain, not his hungry core, after all). With his core this active, he could feel the presences of all the other ghosts around. The blobs flocking around him had auras that were weaker than the Cored Staff, but sturdy. There was a balance to them that signaled the ectoplasmic types they were taking in and storing. He sensed the Uncored pulling in the Ambient ectoplasm that sloughed off of him, barely connected to him anymore if not for the weight of the space surrounding him. And he could feel all of their stores of energy-dense Vital plasm.

He could also feel, just as an aspect of his being, his own energy stores. The metaphysical space in his center that his form and all his strength drew from. He could remember, abstractly, the moment he died and that reservoir came to be and was instantly flooded with energy. The way the portal had searched the air until it found his body and his little human soul and used him as a conduit, and all that electricity punched a hole between planes right where his ghost was trying to form, and something tore outward from that starting place just on top of his being, and the vacuum that formed on earth and in the Zone and everything in between pulled until the Infinite Realms rushed his body and in one instantaneous moment his forming core was flooded with enough ectoplasmic energy to become entirely corporeal (if it hadn’t, his ghost wouldn’t have manifested nearly quickly enough to keep him alive), and his being was stretched beyond its limits containing everything. For one moment, he had been filled with more energy than he had thought possible, and his ghost had formed itself to accommodate. Since then he’d felt so… empty. His body took what it could from human food and environmental energy, but it was made for more than that. He had blocked out the awareness of his reserves and gotten used to trying to power all his defenses on so little. He was always so tired.

He still felt low, running on just enough to operate something humanish. But his core had latched on to the ectoplasm provided by the blob, the kind it was designed to process, and finally felt a little relieved. Most ghosts that stayed within the Realms were almost always full. Danny wasn’t nearly there yet.

He reached down and grabbed another blob.