When the Avengers raid a very dubious scientific installation, they come across something they'd never expected to find. Their discovery turns out to be even more surprising than first suspected, and it leads the team - especially Steve and Tony - to some new and very undiscovered territory.

And Dorian – who hasn’t maliciously thought of Bull as a beast in years, who hasn’t said the words even jokingly in months – still finds himself struck with what he was taught about the Qunari, what he still thinks when a new Vashoth joins the Inquisition. And now, every time the child opens his wide dark eyes and blinks lazily up at Dorian, every time he seems surprised by his own hands waving in front of his face, every time he laughs and squawks and hiccups after he’s done crying… Dorian thinks he can do better, for this child. He will. He rocks the child in his arms late at night and whispers against the tight curls springing out of the sweet crown of his head, coaxes him to sleep for papa, darling, that’s a good boy.

Noctis wakes to the taste of something foul in his mouth, to the wet stone and hum of a haven underneath him; he wakes with a shuddering gasp, fingers grasping at the area where his father’s sword pierced his chest, only to find the soft beams of sunlight washing over him, and his deathly injuries no longer there. A boon, little king, Shiva had said, before she pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. Then, a few spaces away from him, Prompto sputters and coughs a raspy but undoubtedly heated, “WHAT THE FUCK?” Privately, Noctis echoes the sentiment. What the fuck.

Lieutenant Junior Grade Smoker doesn’t know what he did in a past life to deserve this but it better have been worth it to make up for the situation he’s stuck in. He’s no stranger to getting assigned chores and duties below his rank, but this is a new low. And now he’s stuck on a restaurant ship with the newest recruit and the order to keep her out of trouble while the rest of the crew tries to track down Dracule Mihawk to find out why he decided to visit the East Blue of all places. How they ever lost track of whatever big-ass galleon one of the Seven Warlords would surely travel on, he has no idea.

“How’d you get stuck with babysitting duty anyway?” Boba asked one day during dinner. “Oh, I volunteered for this,” Fox told him. “Why the kark would you do that?” “Language,” Fox admonished. “Well, I was just living my normal boring life and I thought to myself, ‘I don’t get called an ugly piece of banthashit often enough.’ So I decided to adopt you.” Boba snorted. “You’re a psychopath,” he told Fox. “I’ve been called worse,” Fox replied breezily.