#(at least at this point) but i like that too because you still see the effect they have on each other's thinking without spelling it out

[where-does-the-heart-lie]

More Doki Doki Battle Academy OP AU

even MOOROEEE of themmmmmahhhhhhh babyeyyy i even added some dialogues fir some extra flavourrrrr (kuma and bonney's gif there would be a sprite he would have in his dialogue scenes. i dont think it would be a gif like this, more like everytime you look back at him, bonney would be in a different spot)

original DDBA designs post (has more lore there, go look at it plese :3

imagining the vinsmoke/strawhat beef going like this video

design stuffs and more lore:

preface: sorry this is so much writing and im not going to grammar check it cuz aint no body got time for that.

The world of this au is like pokemon with different gyms you can fight through and beat, there's a big league of pro fighters, and there are schools for teaching you to be a better fighter.

One of the schools is called the Germa 66 Private Battle Academy, it goes from grades 1-12 and its where the Vinsmoke siblings all went too (at least until sanji broke off from the family at some point) and its run by Judge Vinsmoke, their father.

i am thinking that the Vinsmoke kids would still be genetically modified and Kuma would be a cyborg in this too.

design stuffs:

Ichiji: i tried to make him as punk as he would feasably get away with living under his father's rule. Big "combat" boots, fingerless gloves, black undershirt. He likes his style and would probably go all out if he didnt have to conform to his school uniform, thus i put a little heart on his boots.

Niji: i also made him like his style. The rings on his fingers, his nikes shoes, his big headphones. Like a gamer who thinks this is what fashion is. I think he would love listening to music too so i put his heart on his headphones.

Yonji: big stakly guy. Hes a lot more hands-on than his brothers so i put lots of emphasis on that area. i put his heart on his hand wraps because i think he would really love fighting. I think that Yonji is most like his father in that enjoyment, but i think Judge wouldnt like how casual Yonji's style is.

Reiju: y2k queen. I love this design on her so much im so bummed that she would have already graduated from the academy and i cant put her in a Hit Me Baby One More Time-esque uniform outfit, shed fucking KILL THAT SHITTT. Anyway though, reiju's heart is subtle yet in plain view, the locket around her neck. i dont think she would let anyone look at the contents but i do think that absolutly it would be her mother on one side and her brothers on the other. She wouldnt like people looking at it because that would mean someone could see that her dad isnt in there and she would get it a lot of trouble with her father about it.

Power ranger fits: i made them full on power rangers. its what they deserve. Since reiju has a butterfly motif in canon, i thought it would be fun to also give her brothers a bug motif of their own. ichiji is a wasp, niji is a dragonfly, yonji is a stag beetle. If sanji stuck around, hed probably be a lady bug lol. Also the masks they wear, the eye window part, it’s like tear tracks coming out but in a way that doesnt look like thats what they are. But it’s meant to show how judge forcing his children to be these people is causing them pain.

thank you @zethsdumpster for being my Vinsmoke specialist and helping me come up with a lot of their design stuff!

Doflamingo: i tried to make him a Nasty Nasty man. Like if a used car salesman made it big. Like if Macklemore was MackleMORE. i love the idea that he likes to tan himself, but he doesnt take any of his clothes off to do so, so he just has the absolute craziest tan lines ever. i put his hearts on the gold chain around his neck, he loves his wealth but not much else. i love the idea of him having two very expensive watches on each wrist. there may be more watches up his sleeve too. i also gave him fluffy dice around his neck, like he's one of the cars that he's selling.

Rosinante: i couldnt get away much longer without putting the heart man into the heart 'game'. i couldve went off more with the hearts of his design but i didnt want him to become nearly as flashy as his brother. i wanted him to be understated and fade into the background when doflamingo is around. he is dead in this au btw sorry :/ this is his design when he passed, but doffy's design is present day him. anyway, Rosi's hearts are everywhere, its in the outline of his big huggable fluffy coat, its on his hat thats pulling him down, it would be on his shirt too if it wasnt covered by his coat in this image.

Bonney: SHEEES SO CUUTEEEE AAAAAAAA i love her. I based her design off of Avril Lavigne with her iconic necktie/tanktop/baggy pants looks. i tried to make her outfit look like she could feasibly fit in it when she ages herself up, especially her big ol shoes. the heart in her design is in her neck tie. The stereotypical visage of a dad is a man in a tie who goes to work, and she loves her dad, so her heart is in her dad tie.

Kuma: I didn't change much of him from his design in canon, but since bonney would be more in his life in this version, i wanted to give him more visual indicators of her being there. like the height chart on his leg, or the fuzzy hat she crocheted for him (she also made her own hat for herself). Also, the pattern on his shirt is one that looks like a paw, but if you took off that outer layer, if the pattern continued, the design would be a sun, and i just think that was really clever ehe ehe.

Hancock: Basically i tried to make her the baddest bitch in the universe. My program crashed like 3 times making her which is so funny. Procreate couldnt handle her. I based her design off of Medusa. at first i had her snake be made out of marble, but it eventually wound up at Obsidian. She has no visible hearts on her design and thats because it would be the scar on her back, which she tries to hide. i like the idea that this very visibly revealing outfit would be perfectly tailored and reinforced to never move a single inch to let anyone see what theyre not supposed to. I dont know how i would justify her being able to turn people into stone in this AU, so im just not going to make a decision on whether or not she can do that.

ive been working on these designs off and on ever since i made the first post on this au and im real happy i can finally put more out.

if you got to the end of this, thank you so much for reading~ i hope you enjoyed :)

[kaisentine]

݁ ִ  ۫ ⸺ ❝ 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔　.ᐟ　❞

⌗ ⸺ ❝ 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 . . ! ❞ the one thing you dread the most is your friends overanalyzing and hyping you up all because of a simple interaction with your crush—so annoying! ft. michael kaiser, itoshi sae, shidou ryusei, nagi seishiro, & oliver aiku general cw. just idiots in love, reader is so deep into denial it’s infuriating, highschool au, shidou, fem reader . . . ( MY BAD ) sticky-note i think i just yapped my brains out with this one ( what’s new! ). bomb idea, explosive writing! NAWT PROOFREAD

sticky note. BAEE 😁 thought of this cuz i was also doing snapstreaks

𐔌 . 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑 is apparently so into you because . . . ❝ he snaps you in the morning ! ❞

your friend seems way more excited than you are. it’s way too early for her to already be geeked out at you opening kaiser’s snap for streaks. “i don’t get it,” you say as you open the image—he’s still at home even though most students are already in their respective classes, it’s the side of his face and really nothing special ( if you didn’t like him ). “he’s the epitome of ‘i don’t snap til i’m done with training.” she explains further yet you still don’t understand why she’s pointing it out. “does that quote even exist?” you ask, she’s off with your phone to observe the very thought out ( not really ) photo and shoves your phone into your face with her manicured finger pointing something out. “never mind that! look!” she has effectively made your brain’s circuit cut short because you don’t understand. you grab her wrist to control the distance so you can actually see. why is she pointing at his hair? “what am i looking at?” you voice your exact thoughts. “not tryna be mean to your crush or whatever, but it’s clear he has bed head!” she exclaims, attempting to remove your hand from her wrist, “there’s a reason he only snaps after training . . .” she ends in a murmur. “ha-ha, very funny. i still don’t get it.” you fake laugh at her sly comment and finally surrender her arm—letting it drop. “he hates people seeing him in the morning because of that,” she contemplates saying what she is just about to say—when has she ever done that? “maybe he wants to be the first man you see in the morning, that’s why!” she giggles, and your jaw drops; that is the biggest stretch she has ever came up with! “are you a lunatic?!? the last thing i’d want to do is show him me in the morning . . . he probably hates me!” this reaction of yours wasn’t what you friend wanted to get out from you. she was expecting to see a gleam of hope in your eyes but instead she’s met with a gloss of panic.

actually, your friend was spot on—he snaps you in the morning because he wants to be the first man you see in the morning. the strategy isn’t as effective as he would like it to be because despite the fact he has a pretty reasonable schedule like how he sleeps 7 hours every night, he only knocks out at about 2 am. he’s probably more effective at being late for school if anything. however, he’d rather you see him as at least one of the first males you see at such an ungodly time with ungodly bed head than you seeing him rush into the classroom because he’s late for the first time you glance at his ( glorious ) face that day. the man also decides he’s way too good for the stupidly cute filters you can find on the app so those are out of question—random wall photos are too. gets ness to hype him up and then chastises him if you don’t even look his way.

sticky note. i feel like this is a stupid reason but it’s such a funny concept

𐔌 . 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐄 is apparently so interested in you because . . . ❝ he ate a fry . ❞

your friend is dead serious but you’re just looking at her like ‘oh you actually serious?’. “sorry, what?” you bring your ear closer to her mouth in hopes you probably just misheard what she said. “he. ate. a. fry.” she repeats—nope she is definitely not joking with you. “i don’t see how sae eating a fry relates to him liking me,” you start deadpanning at her attempt at convincing you itoshi sae likes you—she sucks at this! she cocks a brow and gives you a dirty look, “i have a theory you might not actually like him . . . God that man hates fries.” she shudders at the thought. “they were the fries you brought!” she adds on, quickly regaining her composure from pure terror. “okay . . . yeah but it was one singular—not plural—fry, are you okay?” yes, you have a point, it was one fry, and now you’re concerned for you friend. she raises her hands up in surrender while sighing like she was just defeated—have you finally tamed the hostile creature? nope. there’s a sudden stupid smirk on her face that looks straight-up devious, “and plural—not singular—reasons why he is sooo interested!” she elongates and dramatizes the ‘so’, and you mentally slap yourself to make up for the stupidness you can feel radiating off her words. “i can never win with you, can i?” you ask but the answer is already clear—you cannot.

yup, sae hates fries, dearly—that isn’t some kind of secret because he is pretty open about it. once even telling you friend to . . . “fuck off,” when she thought it was a good idea to offer him the stick of pure deliciousness ( hence why she gets shivers thinking about it ). he doesn’t care about a lot of things like how he doesn’t bother himself with keeping most things private or public because he simply just does not give a flying shit. neither does he really care if he makes his feelings clear or not—mixed signals king! sure, he likes you but that doesn’t stop him from being nonchalant. the only time he’ll make openings are in soccer and anything other than that—he just lets it happen. that means if he is given a chance to ‘make a move’ and it’s served on a silver platter without him needing to excerpt any more effort? he’ll take it. if he isn’t, he waits for the next time. but that man doesn’t know anything about feelings so he thinks eating something you brought is making a move.

sticky note. this man is a FREAK but he’s a simple guy promise

𐔌 . 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐘𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐈 is apparently so downbad for you because . . . ❝ he said ‘if i was a velociraptor, i’d eat y/n first’ ? ! ❞

your friend reads off her phone and accidentally pushes her desk towards your chair. “HUH?” you’re just as surprised as your friend is—shidou ryusei actually said that? “you have to look at this,” she states and smacks you in the face with her phone ( deja vu WHO ), it’s the school’s blog and the post is exactly what she just said. “that’s just . . . i mean—what?” you find it quite hard to comprehend what you were reading because what do you mean the weird guy you like posted that? “is that edited?” you ask for confirmation—you literally can’t believe it. she clicks the profile and it is him, you feel your face flush when you’re bombarded with images of him. “i get it! i get it!” you bark and swat her hand away, “whydoievenlikehim—“ you mutter before covering your eyes like you just saw something so distasteful. “girl, i don’t know . . . but he totally likes you,” she shrieks, turning off her phone so such madness is no longer seen. you aren’t entirely buying it, “i doubt it, if i was some kind of carnivorous animal, i wouldn’t eat the guy i like—at all!” you say with a frown on your face. she looks at you, looking even more horrified at what you just said to her. “his thinking process is probably out the window, y’know? he probably just means he wants you to be with him forever!” “in his stomach? no thanks.”

what makes you think shidou ryusei is okay in the head in the slightest? if he likes someone—he makes it so obvious! he doesn’t second guess his words, much less his online posts so as soon aas he was done typing out the words, he clicked post almost immediately. doesn’t regret it one bit. his eyes land anywhere but sae? that is truly a feat . . .

sticky note. does this even happen. also nagi really likes sleeping

𐔌 . 𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐈 𝐒𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎 is apparently so desperate for you because . . . ❝ he sleeps on your shoulder . ❞

your friend is referring to the multiple times your crush has decided to accidentally fall asleep on your shoulder. “so . . .” you urge her to elaborate her point further than she already has. “and he only does it when he’s next to you,” she discerned, whipping out photo evidence in the form of a printed piece of paper. it’s really nothing too special—just the two of you sitting next to each other on the waiting lounge’s couch, waiting for your guys’ turn for the school’s mandatory medical check-up. he looks quite comfortable, arms crossed and manspreading ( 😭 ) but his head is rested on your shoulder—sleeping. “. . .why’d you print it,” you gasp at such an absurd action to prove a point and you quickly rip the paper out of her hands, “you’re insufferable.” you shake your head in disappointment. “a girl gotta do what she gotta do, y’know! how much more obvious does he need to be???” ugh, she’s being so dramatic—he’s just sleeping on your shoulder. “he probably realized i . . .didn’t mind so he doesn’t care,” you reject the idea. “you might be the insufferable one—why do you think he keeps doing it?” she says and you so want to side eye her but you aren’t going to turn sideways to do that because that is mad embarrassing. “i don’t know! he’s just some sleepy guy like,” you give her a pout before continuing, “. . .and people said that they feel sleepy around me.” you admit. “nah, they’re just saying you’re boring!” she giggles—did you not put that together? you playfully push her shoulder in annoyance. “but i’ll give you the answer—he wants to close to you, or in other words; he likes you!”

nagi is the type of lazy where he thinks it’s too much of a hassle to confess first but thinks making physical advancements don’t count. he can easily sleep anywhere, honestly. he likes his sleep but he loves good sleep and you just feel like a good person to sleep on so he decides to try it—and he’s right. he did do it accidentally the first time, it was on his mind but he really didn’t mean to! sleep just drenched his eyes and he was out cold—on your shoulder. there, he decides he likes you more than just a comfy pillow to doze off on.

sticky note. i feel like reader is very justified LMFAO. yk i have a friend who has more than a mu or a situationship but aren’t dating and she said he longest more than friends but not not dating was like 4 years

𐔌 . 𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐈𝐊𝐔 aiku is apparently so smitten for you because . . . ❝ girl, he confessed . . . ❞

your friend resists the overwhelming urge to bitch-slap you because you long-pressed your dms with him. the message wasn’t some kind of special confession just a simple ‘hey i know we just started talking but i think i’m inlove with you’ God reading that made you cringe. “yeah nope, not buying it.” you know he probably knows you saw it because of that stupid green dot on your profile but his message is still left on delivered. “why not?” she asks, “he knows you’ve read it, why edge him?” she pulls out her phone from her bag and faces her back towards you. “what are you doing . . ?” you’re honestly scared what she’s planning because even though you could also just stand up and look over her shoulder—she’d run out of the classroom and disappear. “texting someone,” she says while she’s rapidly typing out something, her shoulders shaking. “i don’t like the sound of that,” you refer to the hidden underlining of her tone, “you’re scaring me—ugh—whatever. i just started texting him, he barely knows me, he’s probably had 4 girlfriends in the span of 5 months—what makes me any different?” like—not trying to degrade yourself but you’re worried that he’s just going to play you too. “if he does, i’ll break his heart!” she says in resolve, doing the cliche moment of lifting up a fist and you giggle at her. there’s a quick buzz from your phone and it’s from the girl in-front of you, “what’s this?” you raise an eyebrow, clicking the notification pop-up. “just read it,” okay . . . if she insists. dot. dot. dot. there’s invisible crickets going off in your head. “is this from sendou?” “uh-huh.”

unbeknownst to you, your friend was actually texting her situationship ( of like 8 months LMFAO )—sendou shuto to ask him about oliver’s confession since they’re friends and all. ‘aiku n y/n? oh yeah he’s totally smitten man, i ain’t never seen aiku talk about a girl like he does w her’ is the message she forwarded to you that let the crickets rip! no but seriously, he normally has cycles like when he’s with one girl but then breaks up with her because he got eyes for another but now he promises that he only wants you!

bonus on why reo likes you because i might not be writing as much as i did this week because of school :p

mikage reo ⸺ ❝ he bought your entire christmas wishlist . . . ❞

[woniedarlin]

XO,I'm Yours

pairing: Jungwon x fem! Reader

genre: XO, Kitty au

synopsis: Having a massive crush on Jungwon is tough. Every time he’s around, your brain malfunctions, and instead of acting normal, you… avoid him. He’s calm, chill, and entirely out of your league (at least, that’s what you tell yourself). Enter Kitty, the matchmaker, determined to make things happen. With her “help,” you find yourself in the most awkward yet heart-racing moments with Jungwon.

The worst part? Jungwon is noticing you now. And it’s making everything so much more complicated. But maybe… Kitty’s plan wasn’t so bad after all.

author's note: This was requested by @firstclassjaylee . Thank you for this idea!!! Please let me know the pronouns for the og XO Kitty characters! I wasn’t sure, so if I got them wrong, I’d happily change them immediately. Apologies in advance for not being able to mention all the characters. Happy reading!

caution: This fic contains extreme secondhand embarrassment and an excessive amount of Jungwon-induced butterflies. Read at your own risk!

permanent tag list: @sol3chu @chlorinecake @13tter @jung1w0n

The plan was simple. Avoid Jungwon at all costs.

It wasn’t that he was mean. That was the problem. Jungwon was nice. The kind of nice that made your stomach do flips and made you feel like an idiot for getting so flustered over someone just existing. So, instead of embarrassing yourself, you settled for admiring him from afar. No eye contact. No unnecessary conversations. Easy.

At least, it was easy...until Kitty found out.

“You have a massive crush on him,” Kitty said one afternoon with her arms crossed.

“No, I don’t.” You knew lying was pointless, but still, you had to try.

Kitty gave you a look. “You walked into a door last week because he was standing near it.”

Your face burned. “That was an accident.”

“Sure,” she said unimpressed. “Look, lucky for you, I happen to be amazing at matchmaking. And I happen to have a plan.”

You blinked. “A plan?”

“Step one: Stop avoiding him.”

You immediately shook your head. “Absolutely not.”

“Too bad because I already started.”

Your stomach dropped. “Kitty. What did you do?”

She just grinned. “You’ll see.”

And just like that, your quiet little crush? It was about to become very complicated.

💌

You should have known Kitty wouldn’t waste any time. The very next day, you find yourself in an unavoidable situation.

It started in the Library. You had just settled in your usual corner, buried in a book, when Kitty slid into the seat across from you.

“What are you—”

“Shh.” She put a finger to her lips. “Just act natural.”

That’s when you saw him.

Jungwon.

He was scanning the shelves a few feet away, oblivious to how your entire body tensed at seeing him. Your brain screamed at you to run, but before you could, Kitty leaned in and whispered, “I told him you needed help with your econ homework.”

Your eyes widened in horror. “You did what?”

And right on cue, Jungwon turned, eyes landing on you.

“Hey,” he said as he was walking over.

Kitty beamed. “Perfect timing! She was saying how she’s completely lost in econ.”

You snapped your head toward her. Liar. You were literally top of the class.

Jungwon pulled out the chair beside you and sat down without hesitation. “I can help.”

You swallowed. Oh no.

Kitty’s grin was way too smug. “Great! I’ll leave you two to it.” Then, before you could protest, she was gone.

Leaving you. Alone. With Jungwon.

You looked down at your phone, noticing a message from Kitty

“You’re welcome ;)’’

💌

You tried to focus on Jungwon's explanation for the first few minutes. Really, you did.

But how were you supposed to concentrate when he was sitting this close?

He leaned over the table, pointing at your textbook, his voice steady as he explained some economic theory. You nodded along, pretending to listen, but in reality, your brain was short-circuiting.

“Does that make sense?” he asked, turning to look at you.

You blinked. “Huh?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You weren’t listening, were you?”

Your face heated. “I was! Kind of. Maybe.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “You’re bad at lying.”

You groaned, then covered your face. “This is embarrassing.”

“Why?” He tilted his head. “It’s just me.”

Exactly.

It was just him. Just Jungwon, who you had spent months avoiding because he made you feel like a walking disaster. But he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seemed amused.

“I don’t bite, you know,” he said. “You don’t have to be scared of me.”

“I’m not scared of you,” you blurted out.

He smirked. “So you’ve just been avoiding me for fun?”

You clamped your mouth shut.

Jungwon leaned back in his chair, watching you with a knowing look. “Huh.”

You frowned. “What?”

“Nothing.” His smirk deepened. “You’re interesting.”

Your stomach did a backflip.

Oh, you were so doomed.

Later that night, Kitty found you in your dorm room, looking too pleased with herself.

“So?” she asked, flopping onto your bed. “How did it go?”

You groaned. “I made a fool of myself.”

Kitty laughed. “Define ‘fool.’”

“I blanked out. He caught me staring. I admitted to avoiding him. And he called me interesting.”

Her eyes widened. “Wait. He called you interesting?”

You nodded miserably.

Kitty squealed. “That’s huge!”

You frowned. “How is that huge?”

“Because Jungwon doesn’t just call people interesting, my dear hopeless friend. You caught his attention.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “You think?”

“I know.” Kitty grinned. “And trust me, this is only the beginning.”

You groaned again, flopping face-first onto your pillow.

Kitty just laughed.

After all, the matchmaking had only just begun.

💌

“Okay,” Kitty clapped her hands, grinning as she stared at you. “Today’s the day we level you up.”

You blinked and were confused. “Level me up?”

“Yes! You like Jungwon, but you get all shy and awkward around him,” she pointed out. “So, if you want him to notice you, we must work on your confidence.”

You groaned, already feeling embarrassed. “Kitty, this is so unnecessary.”

Kitty ignored you and stepped forward. “First lesson: Posture! Stand straight, shoulders back. Confidence comes from the way you carry yourself.”

You hesitated before adjusting yourself, trying to mimic the way she stood. “Like this?”

Kitty nodded. “Good. Now, when you see Jungwon, don’t look away all nervous. Hold eye contact. Make him feel like he’s the only person in the room.”

You gulped. “The only person in the room? Kitty, I can’t even look at him for three seconds without feeling like I’m about to pass out.”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s exactly why we’re practicing! Here, pretend I’m Jungwon.”

You stared at her. “Kitty, this is weird.”

“Do it!” she urged.

Taking a deep breath, you slowly raised your head, looking her in the eyes. You managed to hold it for two seconds before covering your face. “Nope. I can’t do this.”

Kitty groaned dramatically. “Okay, let’s try something else. Flirting! Sometimes, a little playful teasing can go a long way.”

You hesitated. “Like… what kind of teasing?”

Kitty smirked. “Try complimenting him, but make it sound casual. Like, ‘Wow, Jungwon, you look so good today.’”

You cringed. “That doesn’t sound casual at all.”

“It’s all about the tone!” Kitty explained. “Say it naturally, like you’re just making an observation.”

You sighed and cleared your throat, trying to sound confident. “Wow, Jungwon, you look so good today.”

Kitty immediately burst into laughter. “Why do you sound like a robot?”

You groaned and covered your face again. “I told you I’m bad at this!”

She patted your shoulder. “Okay, okay. Let’s try something easier…Oh! What about smiling? When you see him, could you give him a little smile? Not too big, not too small. Just a hint of a smile.”

You nodded and tried it. Kitty examined you for a second before shaking her head. “No. That looks scary.”

“Kitty!!”

“Okay, okay! Let’s just—oh wait, Jungwon’s coming!” Kitty suddenly grabbed your shoulders.

Your eyes widened in pure panic. “WHAT?!”

“Relax! Just do what we practiced!” she whispered urgently.

Jungwon walked past, glancing at the two of you. You froze utterly, your mind going blank. Then, at the last second, you remembered Kitty’s advice. You quickly straightened your posture and gave him a small smile… except you accidentally bared your teeth like an awkward grimace instead of a confident smile.

Jungwon slowed down slightly, his brows furrowing. “Uh… are you okay?”

‘’Pfft’’ Kitty covered her mouth, trying not to laugh.

You, wholly mortified, quickly turned away. “Yes! Totally fine! Just… stretching my face!”

Jungwon blinked, clearly confused, before nodding slowly and walking off.

The moment he was out of sight, you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Kitty, I hate this.”

Kitty finally burst out laughing. “Okay, maybe that wasn’t your best moment, but hey! At least you tried!”

“I just embarrassed myself,” you muttered.

Kitty grinned. “Relax. Slow and steady wins the race. You’ll get there.”

You sighed, not entirely convinced, but Kitty’s encouragement made you feel slightly better. Maybe with time—and much more practice—you’d finally get the confidence you needed.

…Hopefully, before you died of embarrassment first.

💌

After your absolute disaster of a confidence practice session with Kitty, you decided there was only one solution.

Avoid Jungwon.

At all costs.

Your already massive crush on him had now turned into full-blown mortification. Every time you so much as thought about how you awkwardly bared your teeth at him, you wanted to disappear into the earth. So, naturally, when you spotted Jungwon walking down the hallway, you did what any logical person would do.

You grabbed the nearest person and used them as a human shield.

“Minho,” you hissed, ducking behind his tall frame.

Minho barely flinched while sipping on his collagen water. “Oi, what’s this then?” he drawled,

You gripped his shoulders. “I need to hide.”

Minho sighed, already used to your antics. “Lemme guess—Jungwon?”

You nodded frantically.

Minho shook his head but didn’t move. “You know, mate, you can’t keep running forever.”

“Yes, I can,” you whispered.

Unfortunately, fate had other plans.

“Minho,” Jungwon’s voice suddenly called out, catching your breath.

You peeked over Minho’s shoulder just in time to see Jungwon stopping before him, looking too good for your heart to handle.

Minho, unfazed, nodded in greeting. “Aye, mate. What’s up?”

Jungwon started talking to Minho about something you were too distracted to process. Because while he was addressing Minho, his eyes kept peeking over Minho’s shoulder—straight at you.

You immediately shrank further behind Minho.

Jungwon’s lips twitched slightly. “Hey,” he said, this time directed at you.

Your brain is short-circuited. Oh no. He’s talking to me. Abort mission. Abort mission.

Minho, ever the instigator, casually stepped to the side, exposing you completely.

You had no choice but to face Jungwon. “H-Hi,” you managed weakly.

Jungwon tilted his head slightly. “Are you hiding from me?”

“What? No! Pfft, that’s crazy,” you blurted out and laughed nervously.

Minho smirked and sipped his collagen water. “Yeah, mate, totally crazy.”

You kicked the back of Minho’s shoe.

Jungwon didn’t look entirely convinced but let it slide. “Alright,” he said before flicking his gaze back to Minho.

You thought you were in the clear—until you noticed that Jungwon kept glancing at you even as he continued his conversation with Minho. Every few seconds, his eyes would shift back to you.

It was subtle, but it was enough to make your stomach flip.

Then, as Minho made some joke in his relaxed drawl, Jungwon suddenly interrupted, his eyes locking on yours. “You don’t have to hide, you know,” he said softly.

Your heart stopped.

After thoroughly enjoying the situation, Minho took a long sip of his drink. “Oi, look at that, would ya? Some real tension here.”

You kicked him again.

Jungwon only smiled slightly before looking away as if he hadn’t just destroyed your ability to function.

And just like that, your plan to avoid him had backfired entirely.

You were so doomed.

💌

The sound of typing and the flick of pages turning was the soundtrack of your days lately. You had been buried in textbooks for what felt like forever. The stress had accumulated, leaving you exhausted. Your face was pale, and dark bags were under your eyes from the sleepless nights, but you couldn’t stop. You had to push through. A vast project was coming up, and you couldn’t afford to fail.

You propped your head up with one hand, barely able to keep your eyes open as you glanced over your notes. The words blurred, your mind already foggy from overworking. Before you knew it, your head dropped onto the table with a soft thud.

“Ugh…,” you mumbled as you fought to stay awake.

The door creaked open, and you heard the familiar sound of footsteps entering. Kitty’s voice followed soon after. “Hey, are you still at it?”

Jungwon’s calm tone responded, “She’s been studying for hours now. I don’t think she’s taking breaks.”

You groaned, too tired to even lift your head. The sounds of them approaching grew closer until you felt the soft pressure of someone standing beside you. You sighed and tried to sit up, but the weight of your exhaustion made it hard.

As you lifted your head, you saw Kitty’s shocked expression first. She gasped, her hand coming up to her mouth. “Oh my gosh! You look like you haven’t slept in days! Your face… it’s—”

You blinked slowly, too tired to defend yourself. “I’m fine,” you mumbled, attempting to give a smile, but it came out weak and crooked.

Kitty’s eyes softened with concern. “You need to take a break. Look at those bags under your eyes. Are you even eating right?”

Before you could reply, you heard Jungwon’s voice. “There’s nothing wrong with your face,” he said unbothered. He bent down to your level. “You’re still pretty, even with all that stress.”

The compliment caught you off guard. You couldn’t help but blush despite how exhausted you were. “W-well, thank you…” you stammered, a little embarrassed.

Kitty rolled her eyes playfully. “See, Jungwon knows what to say! But seriously, you need to rest.” She crossed her arms, and her frown replaced her concern. “This is way too much. You’re going to burn yourself out at this rate.”

Jungwon nodded slightly. “Kitty’s right. You won’t get far if you can’t even stay awake.”

You sighed, both too tired and too embarrassed to argue. “I… I need to finish this.”

Kitty leaned closer and whispered as if sharing a secret, “How about I help you get this done faster? You can relax, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

You blinked slowly, still too drained to think straight. “Are you sure?”

She smirked. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this. You need to close your eyes for a bit.”

Jungwon shot you a small and reassuring smile. “Take a break, okay? You don’t want to make yourself sick over this.”

You hesitated momentarily before nodding, grateful for their support even if you still felt guilty. You slid down in your chair, resting your head against the backrest and briefly closing your eyes.

Kitty moved to your side, pulling out her phone to check her messages. Jungwon stayed silent nearby, giving you an almost protective glance as you rested.

“Good. Now, take a nap. No more studying for the rest of the day,” Kitty said with a smile as she gave you the space to rest.

You breathed a sigh of relief and closed your eyes, hoping the rest would help ease the weight of the world you’d been carrying.

💌

You sat quietly on a chair, Minho beside you, applying your skincare. He had been your skincare mentor for a while, helping you with all the little tricks you needed. “Alright, make sure you really press it in,” Minho said, gently patting the moisturizer into your skin.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever do it as well as you,” you murmured. “But thanks for teaching me.”

Minho smiled. “Of course. You’re a fast learner,” he said, dabbing the cream across your cheek. “Maybe you should start your skincare vlog or something.”

You chuckled softly, “I’d probably mess it up on camera.”

Minho shook his head and let out a grin. “You’d be perfect. Trust me.”

You both laughed; the room felt safe. There was no pressure, no expectations, just good company. Then the door creaked open, and you looked up. Jungwon stepped in, looking casual, but something about his presence made the atmosphere feel different…tense, almost.

Minho waved at him, still oblivious to the sudden shift. “Hey, Jungwon! Just helping out with her skincare. You should join us.”

You froze for a moment, catching Jungwon’s eyes. Your heart skipped a beat, but you quickly looked away, too shy to hold his eyes for long.

Jungwon’s lips twitched in an almost a frown. “I’m good,” he said; his eyes were focused on you and Minho, how you both were laughing and talking comfortably.

Minho, clearly unaware of the undercurrent between the three of you, laughed again. “You sure? I think I’m pretty much a skincare pro now.” He gently patted your cheek again, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly.

You noticed Jungwon kept looking at your face, then back to Minho’s hand. There was a slight tension in his posture now. His arms were still crossed, and his eyes had narrowed just a little. “I think she’s got it covered,” Jungwon’s voice a little colder. “You’re always helping her with something.”

You looked down, trying to avoid his gaze as his words were uncomfortably in the air. Your heart beat faster than usual, and you were too shy to respond. Why was it that whenever Jungwon was around, you lost all ability to act normal?

Minho didn’t seem to notice anything wrong. “What can I say? I’m just a helpful guy,” he replied with a wink.

Jungwon’s eyes flickered between the two of you. He uncrossed his arms and took a step closer. “Well, maybe she doesn’t need that much help,” he said, a little irritated. His tone wasn’t even harsh.

You flinched slightly, but you didn’t say anything. You just sat there, hoping the ground would swallow you whole.

Minho noticed the shift. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop making her feel like a project,” he teased, though it was clear he was a little confused by Jungwon’s sudden change in attitude. “I was just trying to be helpful.”

You bit your lip, feeling the awkward silence settle over the room. Jungwon didn’t respond immediately; they just looked at you for a beat longer than necessary. Then he exhaled and glanced at the door. “You should probably get some rest,” Jungwon said softer now. “It’s late.”

You nodded quickly. Unsure of what to say. “Right, I’ll—uh, I’ll head to bed.”

Minho, still oblivious, smiled. “Get some sleep. We’ll finish up tomorrow.”

You nodded again, glancing briefly at Jungwon as you left. Jungwon’s voice stopped you before you could walk out. “You’re… you’re fine, right?”

The question caught you off guard. You hesitated. “I’m fine,” you replied quietly while avoiding his gaze.

He nodded, then gave you an unreadable smile. “Okay,” he said before turning back to Minho.

You walked out of the room quickly,

Was that… jealousy?

That’s impossible.

💌

“You have to wear this,” Kitty declared, holding up a dress that made your stomach tense.

“Kitty, no.”

“Kitty, yes.”

You glared at her through the mirror, but she just grinned as she shoved the outfit into your hands. “Trust me,” she said. “Jungwon won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”

You swallowed hard at the thought. Jungwon. Seeing you. In this.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t dressed up before, but this outfit felt… different. More intentional. It's more like you were trying to get his attention.

Which, okay, you were, but still—

Kitty snapped her fingers in front of your face. “No overthinking! Just wear it. Come on, it’s a party! You’re supposed to look hot.”

You groaned but ultimately let her win (not that you ever had a choice).

By the time you were ready, you were nervous to the point that you needed to go to the restroom for a second. Your reflection in the mirror was almost unrecognizable. Kitty had curled your hair and given you subtle but effective makeup; the outfit made you feel… good.

“You look amazing,” Kitty whispered and squeezed your shoulders. “Now go show Jungwon what he’s missing.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled. You felt a little bit braver as you followed her out.

The party was in full swing by the time you arrived. You weren’t even inside for a full minute before you felt the weight of someone’s eyes on you.

And when you turned—

There he was.

Jungwon.

Standing across the room, eyes locked on you with a similar unreadable expression on his face. For a moment, neither of you moved. The world around you blurred, and all you could focus on was how his eyes slowly traveled over you before he looked away.

Kitty, standing beside you, definitely noticed.

“Oh,” she whispered and nudged you with her elbow. “He so noticed.”

You felt your face heat up.

Jungwon, however, had turned away, disappearing into the crowd before you could react.

The party was energetic, but you barely registered anything. Kitty had practically forced you into this dress, hyping you up, fixing your hair, and making you promise you wouldn’t shrink away if Jungwon talked to you.

But here he was—talking to you—and you were about two seconds from running.

“You look different.”

You looked up at him with your fingers gripping your cup tighter.

“What?”

His gaze was enough to make you feel self-conscious.

“You don’t usually dress like this,” he said.

You swallowed. “Oh. Yeah. Kitty—”

“Makes sense.”

Your brows furrowed. “What does that mean?”

Jungwon took a sip of his drink and then met your gaze again.

“It means you look pretty.”

If that makes sense, your brain wholly short-circuited, and you felt like your stomach was twisting again.

You needed to escape.

But the second you tried to move, a gentle hand wrapped around your wrist.

“Don’t run away,” Jungwon said softly.

You froze.

His grip wasn’t tight or forceful—just enough to hold you there, to make you look at him.

“You always do that,” he murmured.

Your throat went dry.

Jungwon tilted his head slightly, “You’re always avoiding me,” he continued, “but then you’re always looking.”

Your breath hitched.

Jungwon let out a chuckle. Then, most casually, like he wasn’t wholly messing with your heart, he said—

“You don’t have to run. I don’t mind if you stay.”

You weren’t used to this—at least not with him.

“Hey,” Jungwon’s voice was quiet, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You were processing his words slowly. You had been avoiding him for so long, not because you didn’t like him, but because the thought of being close to him made your heart skip beats. And now, here he was, standing so close,

“I’m okay,” you mumbled, shifting your gaze anywhere but him. The more you looked at him, the more your stomach flipped.

Jungwon’s hand fell to his side. He gave you a little space, but not enough to make you feel like he was giving up. You could tell that he wasn’t the type to give up easily. “I didn’t mean to crowd you,” he continued, understanding. “I… wanted to hang out, y’know?”

You nodded slowly, still unsure how to move past the awkward tension that had settled between you two. It was strange, feeling so seen yet so exposed. “Okay.” You took a deep breath. “I… I’m not good with all of this yet.”

Jungwon smiled at that. He didn’t push, didn’t pressure. Instead, he took a small step back, keeping a respectful distance but maintaining that comforting presence. “I get it,” he said. “But if you ever want to talk or hang out, I’m here. No rush.” He let the words hang in the air. He is willing to wait until you are ready.

You finally allowed your eyes to meet his, “Thanks,” you whispered, feeling a warmth in your chest that wasn’t just from the proximity but from the simple kindness he showed you. He wasn’t asking for more than your comfort, making everything more manageable.

“You know,” Jungwon added, “you don’t have to hide behind Minho all the time.”

You stiffened at that, but he didn’t look at you teasingly. He was stating a fact.

Your heart fluttered.

“Well, he’s taller than me,” you mumbled, trying to brush off the awkwardness.

Jungwon chuckled.

And for once, the thought of being close to Jungwon didn’t make your heart race in fear. It made it race in something else.

Something a little more hopeful.

💌

The group had decided to take a little break from basically everything that happened, and everyone was now scattered across the dorm’s common area. Kitty and Minho were sitting on the couch, though something was different. Minho had his arm casually draped over the back of the sofa, and Kitty leaned slightly toward him, her attention entirely on whatever they were discussing.

You couldn’t help but watch, caught up in the dynamic between them. It was so apparent that they were getting close. Too close, really. You glanced at them for a few seconds longer than you probably should have, a little uncomfortable with how natural they looked together, especially considering the little tension between them.

You shook your head and sighed. “Those two should just get together already,” you muttered. “It’s painful to watch.” You didn’t even realize you had said it aloud until Jungwon, standing nearby, chuckled softly.

“You seem to be invested in their situation. ”

You froze and blushed immediately. “What? No! I—” You stammered. “It’s awkward, you know? With everything going on with Yuri and all that. It’d be easier if they just figured it out.”

Jungwon raised an eyebrow. “You sure? Sounds like you’re a little too invested,” his smirk growing.

You looked away quickly. “I’m not. I think… it’s obvious, don’t you think?”

Jungwon leaned back. “Hm. Interesting. You know, Kitty might take that as a challenge. She likes playing matchmaker.” He paused, glancing at the two on the couch before returning to you. “But then again, maybe it’s you who should be matched with someone.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you shot a look at him, trying to keep your cool. “What are you talking about?” You weren’t sure if you were ready for whatever joke or comment he was about to make.

With a shrug. “I don’t know… It’d be painful to watch you and me, right?”

You were trying to make sense of his words. Was he joking? Was he serious?

Before you could respond, Jungwon gave you a playful smile. “Well, maybe not. We’re not so bad, right?” His eyes seemed to challenge you to call him out on it.

You couldn’t stop the nervous laugh that escaped your lips. “I… I don’t know what you mean,” you said quickly. Your thoughts felt muddled, and your stomach flipped in a way you weren’t quite ready to admit.

Jungwon leaned closer just a little. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’ll figure out what’s happening between you and… well, someone, someday.”

The way he said that last part made your heart flutter, and before you could think too much about it, you quickly stood up, awkwardly brushing past him to talk to Dae. You couldn’t handle being near him anymore, not with his strange comment.

💌

It had been one of those nights where everything felt like it was building up to something. The group had decided to sneak out, and of course, Kitty had the whole thing planned out. Again. She was determined to get you and Jungwon alone for a little confession moment, even if it meant dragging everyone else into a mini adventure. The plan was simple: sneak out to the park for a midnight stroll.

The group managed to sneak out without much trouble, or so they thought. Kitty was already ahead, while Minho, Q, Dae, and Yuri followed, all too eager to escape their studies. You padded behind them. But suddenly, just as you were about to turn the corner toward the door, you heard footsteps approaching from the hallway.

“Someone’s coming!” you hissed and panic started rising in your chest. You froze, unsure of what to do, until a pair of warm hands quickly grabbed you from behind, pulling you into the nearest room and closing the door softly.

You looked up to see Jungwon standing there. His gaze was serious momentarily before it softened into that usual mischievous smile. “Close call,” he whispered.

You sighed in relief but your heart was still pounding from the adrenaline. “I didn’t think it would be this hard to sneak out,” you muttered.

Jungwon stepped closer, and the space between you grew smaller. “Kitty really knows how to get us into trouble, doesn’t she?” he smiled gently.

You laughed nervously. “She’s persistent, I’ll give her that. I don’t know how she does it.” You couldn’t help but glance down. “I should probably—” you began to mumble but Jungwon interrupted you

“You don’t have to run away this time,” he murmured and you felt his thumb gently brushing your cheek. “You can stay with me.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the words, and before you could even process their whole meaning, Jungwon leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in the softest, most gentle kiss you’d ever experienced. The world seemed to stop for a moment.

You stood there, frozen, your eyes wide in shock as Jungwon pulled back slightly, but only enough to look at you with a tender look, “You were going to say something, right?” Jungwon whispered

You were unable to form words. You couldn’t find anything to say except for the obvious truth that had been sitting in your chest for so long. “I… I’ve liked you for a while,” you finally admitted in a whisper. “I didn’t know how to say it. I didn’t think you’d… feel the same.”

Jungwon smiled and leaned his forehead against yours. “I feel the same,” he said softly. “I’ve been trying to find the right moment to tell you… but I guess this is as good a time as any.”

You smiled as you leaned into him, both chuckling in silence. For the first time, it felt like the weight had been lifted, and everything had finally fallen into place.

💌

The next day, you and Jungwon walked through campus hand in hand. You didn’t care about the curious glances or whispers around you. Everything felt so natural now. Jungwon’s thumb gently brushed against your hand, and you couldn’t help but smile at the small but significant change in your relationship.

As you turned the corner, you spotted Kitty and Q sitting at their usual spot by the fountain. They looked up at you two simultaneously, eyes widening in shock as they saw your hands intertwined. Kitty’s face immediately broke into a smile, while Q’s jaw dropped slightly. “Oh my god!” Kitty squealed with her voice a few octaves higher than usual as she stood up quickly. “It’s official! You two are—?”

You giggled and nodded. “Yep, it’s real. Took us a while, but we finally figured it out.”

Q was still in shock and blinked a few times before recovering. “Wait, is this the part where you two act all coy about it?” he teased.

Jungwon chuckled and shrugged slightly as he looked down at you with an affectionate gaze. “Guess so,” he said casually. “But it feels good. Finally.”

Kitty, her excitement never waning, jumped up and clapped her hands together. “I knew it! I knew you two would be perfect for each other. I mean, come on, how could you not be?”

You smiled as you felt a little shy under all their attention. “Yeah, well, it’s thanks to Kitty here,” you said, turning toward her with a grateful look. “She practically forced us to get our act together.”

Kitty just shrugged. “Hey, someone had to step in. You two were taking forever.”

You then decided to have a little fun with Q. Turning to him with a smirk; you said, “Oh, and by the way, Q, now that we’re all on the same page… maybe it’s time you and Jin finally get together.”

Kitty gasped, and Q’s face immediately turned beet red. “I—what? No! That’s—no!” he sputtered

Jungwon raised an eyebrow. “You know, I’ve noticed that too. You and Jin make a good pair,” he said honestly.

Q looked like he was about to explode, “I hate him!” he said. “You better not tell Jin I said that.”

You chuckled at his reaction. “Oh, don’t worry. We won’t say a thing… for now.”

Still practically bouncing with excitement, Kitty turned to Jungwon with a warm smile. “Okay, I’ll take the credit for this one,” she said with a wink. “But I’m happy you two finally figured it out.”

Jungwon gave Kitty a genuine look, squeezing your hand as he thanked her. “Honestly, thank you, Kitty. You really did help us get here.”

Kitty’s face softened and she laughed lightly. “Of course! I’m just happy to see you two so happy together.”

At that moment, everything felt perfect. You were with Jungwon and were surrounded by friends who were happy for you. It felt like the start of something new and beautiful, and you couldn’t help but feel grateful for everything that had led up to this moment. “Alright, alright,” you said, leaning into Jungwon as you all settled back down to enjoy the rest of the day. “Let’s just say that Kitty’s matchmaking skills are unmatched.”

Kitty shot you a wink. “Told you.”

And for the first time in a long time, you felt like everything was finally falling into place.

[iglowinggemma28]

Ok here me out! A time and dimension displaced Sam and Tucker! Who each lost their Danny +the other! Learned magic! (For Sam “normal or standard magic plus behaving the title of the Daughter of the Green) maybe she become the Dark Witch of the Green. And for tucker Pharaoh magic plus technology based abilities) both tried to avenge their friends and got labeled a villain for it!

So they disappeared into the ghost zone! Found the other. Learned that while they may not be the variant that they grew up with they’re still pretty close. And then realize if there’s time lines where they lost everyone….then they had to be at least one time line where A Danny survived but lost them. And have been hunting to find one since. Clockwork has had to constantly redirect these two so they wouldn’t find Dan pre redemption. As then Past Danny would have had no chance whatsoever!

But now that things are as stable as they’ve going to get. There’s a Jazz, Danny, Ellie and Dan( I vote he changes his name to Jordan as a tribute prior to Jazz showing up! Who then demands he keeps it so she’s not left out the the naming anymore! As well as a confused but supportive set of parents.

So they show up in all they’re dark glory and as soon as they see Danny (who doesn’t fight back because of shock) this leads to a chase that should end with Starfire finally showing up who has already read every text and update Dick has sent her.

Now the thing is Dark witch Sam and pharaoh tuck are messed up in the head. They both lost their Danny’s in different but equally tragic ways. So they’re border line Yandere’s at this point. (It can be romantic or platonic) So when they find out that this timeline has 2 Danny’s that have each lost and grieved their variants they HAVE to stay. Ok time to pull out the waterworks….

Finally they explain they’re from timelines/dimensions where they were the last person standing and got blamed and vilified for their grief over losing there loved ones. And that the original plan was find a Danny who has lost their variants and take him with them before anyone can hurt him like what happened in their timelines. But now that they see there’s a jazz, Ellie and a Jordan here they can’t possibly take him! They look up at Starfire. Who’s glaring at the 2 maybe villains holding her sons kinda hostage. (Kinda being the operative word as her sons are each desperately clinging to one.) but before she can try to get them to safety. They start crying.

W-we’re so SORRY! We just wanted to protect him because we were too weak to do it before! In their timelines Their danny’s got hurt really bad! Hell one timeline it was His parents who hurt him! But this isn’t what their Danny’s’ would have wanted they see that now! Please can they stay? They can be heroes! Help out they innocent! All for the low low price of not being separated from Jordan and Danny! Please! Just give us a chance!!!!!!!!!!!

Dick who has finally caught up really wants to say no. But Jordan abd Danny are clinging to them and flashing the most pathetic wet kitten eyes he has ever seen!!!!!!!!! He looks at his daughters who are also looking at him with teary eyes…..fine you can stay but your on thin ice understand! Both of you are going to under surveillance and he’s going to have since a magical contract that outlines the rules! (This won’t backfire….right?)

Thoughts! 

Future Son????

It has been a while since I have done an original prompt. So DCxDP prompt #2

Danny gets into a fight with Impulse/Bart about Bart changing the timeline messing things up for Danny and effectively erasing his family, because the change made it so Maddie and Jack never got together. But because of Clockwork sending him on a mission to the past while Bart changed the timeline and the medallion Dan had phased into Danny he remembers the old timeline. Also he has access to his powers but for some reason can’t change into ghost form.

This fight happens in front of the rest of the young justice team. And Nightwing was coming there to teach a training lesson and over hears half of what Danny is shouting.

From Dick’s point of view there is a black haired, blue eyed kid with powers that are suspiciously like a Tamuraneans, yelling at Bart about losing his family because his parents never got together. Also Dick and Kori had recently broken up. (Feel free to make up a reason.)

Due to a misunderstanding Dick is going to help his time displaced “son” adjust to the new reality.

Do I tag people too much? @azulhood @bianca-hooks123 @bloggerspam @confusedshades @dragonsrequiem @evilminji @flamingpudding @fightmebissh @ghostbsuter @hypewinter @help-itrappedmyself @hdgnj @kizzer55555 @menolly5600 @ourrechte-blog @puppetmaster13u @rboooks @starlightcat04 @stormikitty @virgamsysxvolumes @zeestarfishalien @zylev-blog

[aakeysmash]

Farmer Sukuna and YN interacting with the other town folk?

(Which lead into my other question; is there any villager Sukuna actually enjoys talking with or is he a complete loner? I would think he would at least hang out with the adventure guild.)

farmer!sukuna and you visiting the old ladies in town

Farmer!Sukuna’s masterlist

Reader and Sukuna have many connections to the town folks. Yes, they’re self-sufficient, but they still have to make a living. Sukuna sells whatever his fields produce, and you’re a really great baker, so you end up selling some muffins/pies/sweets from time to time :)

You try to keep your lives as peaceful as they can get, so you keep to yourselves the majority of the time, but for the sake of your business you still have to meet up with people. Sukuna isn’t really happy about this because he is pretty much a loner lol, he isn’t an easy person to deal with 🧍🏻‍♂️ but he tries, mainly because he knows you care. You, on the contrary, are really good with words and gestures, and the old ladies really appreciate your company for tea time on Fridays. Sukuna, obviously, comes with you every time, too. And they absolutely love him.

“Oh sweetheart, you’re so thin these days! Is that brute not treating you well? Come, come, eat this biscuit,” a lady ushers you into her home, glaring at Sukuna who is behind you. You softly laugh while Sukuna grumbles “I ain't even do nothin'”.

“He’s treating me very well, ma’am. And I got you a blueberry pie, he made sure to pick all the ingredients for me,” you say sweetly, sitting down on the chair your husband got out from under the table for you. The old lady beams at your pie before shaking her white curls, pointing an accusatory finger toward Sukuna’s chest.

“You’ll have to fight me if you make her cry, do you understand, mister?”

“I would never, ma’am,” he says somberly, laying his hands on your shoulders. The other ladies at the table are hurrying to bring a chair from somewhere for him too, but he raises a hand to stop them. He doesn’t mind standing if you’re comfortable.

“One free pepper for every tear!” The same old lady exclaims, still furrowing her eyebrows.

“Let’s make ‘em two,” he smirks, bowing slightly. The old lady’s expression softens, and she coos at him. She pats him on the cheek affectionately, and you see his jaw ticking. He hates it. You snort, and he sends you a mean glance.

“You found yourself a gem, honey,” another kind lady sighs your way. You get up to point your chair at Sukuna, and he rolls his eyes, already knowing what you want him to do. You’re trying to include him in the circle around the table, just like every Friday. He sits down and you plop right on his left leg. His arms circle your waist, and you lean your back on his chest, content. "Strong, put a ring on your finger fast, makes sure you're fed healthy ingredients..."

"Oh, that I do, ma'am," he barks out laughing, making all the ladies follow. He has that young man charm that makes the group of ladies swoon.

"Let's drink some tea, shall we?"

[nhlclover]

PUSHING IT DOWN AND PRAYING QUINN HUGHES

pairing: quinn hughes x fem!reader

summary: ever since quinn's confession, the magnetic pull of your ex has lingered in both dreams and waking moments, forcing you to confront emotions you believed were long buried.

warnings: 18+, (not insanely descriptive but) p in v, oral (fem!receiving), cheating (in your head and in person!), kind of toxic behaviour from both you and quinn

wc: 3.54k

notes: based on 'pushing it down and praying' by lizzy mcalpine. technically a part two to my fic last christmas but not necessary to read before this one! this is my first time writing something that actually veers into smut and i kind of liked it 🤫🤭

Quinn was haunting you.

Ever since the holiday party, when he told you he missed you, his presence has plagued your thoughts. You had hoped at first that it was just the encounter that had your mind tangled up in him again. A fluke. An inconvenient memory dredged up by too much wine and the way the Christmas lights had cast a golden glow around his face, making him look as heartbreakingly beautiful as he always had.

But it wasn’t just a one-off. He lingered everywhere. Seeped into everything.

He was in photos your friends reposted on Instagram, him celebrating as he racked up points in what was set to be another Norris-deserving season. You walk down the street and he’s staring down at you from a billboard. Someone at work mentions his name in passing, and you have to grip your coffee cup just a little bit tighter.

Even in the most intimate, protected moments, he’s there.

You’re with Caleb, naked and tangled up in his sheets. His hands and lips take turns tracing patterns down your skin. You close your eyes, tilting your head back against the pillow, and then suddenly, Quinn is there, hovering in the space between your thoughts, intruding like he always does. It’s his hands gripping down on your thighs, it’s his breath that’s hot over your core. It’s his black locks that your fingers thread through, his tongue that pulls you close to completion.

It’s his name that nearly slips past your lips instead of Calebs.

The second you realize, your entire body goes cold with horror. You feel sick. You feel like you’ve betrayed something, even if you’re not sure what.

It should stop there. It should be enough to shake you, to jar you back into the reality of what you have — what you chose. But it doesn’t.

Quinn lingers.

Like a ghost with a vengeance, he refuses to be exorcized from your mind. You try everything to rid yourself of him, desperate to cleanse him from your system like a sickness. You delete his number from your phone. You block him on Instagram. You unfollow the team’s page, stop watching their games, turn off the TV when his name is mentioned. But it doesn’t matter. You still see him in flashes, in the shadows of your everyday life, in the places you least expect him.

You tell yourself that Caleb is enough. He’s stable, he’s kind. He looks at you like you’re his whole world. And yet, no matter how much you try to convince yourself, you can feel the guilt creeping in, poisoning what should be simple, should be easy. Because Caleb doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve a half-present version of you, someone who is always a breath away from slipping into a memory, a ghost of a love that still has its claws in you.

And you do love Caleb. That’s what makes this worse. You love him, but Quinn is in your blood, tangled in your bones. No matter how many times you try to wring him out of you, he stays.

You don’t mean to let him in, but Quinn is relentless. Even when you spend the rest of the night curled in on yourself, forcing your mind onto anything but him, he lingers in the edges of your consciousness, slipping in through the cracks you swore you sealed long ago.

You fall asleep telling yourself you won’t think about him. But the harder you try to push him away, the faster he finds you.

And then suddenly, he’s everywhere.

His hands, broad and warm, map your body, claiming you like he never lost the right. His mouth, hot and sure, drags across your skin, lips brushing over your jaw, your throat, lower. His voice, low and wrecked with want, says your name like it’s the only thing that’s ever mattered.

It feels real. Devastatingly real.

You arch into him, gasping when his fingers dig into your hips, when his body presses you deeper into the mattress. His hips drill into you, overwhelming pleasure wreaking your body. You’re close, so close, his hands adding to the pleasure until finally—

You wake up in a sweat, your heart hammering against your ribs, sheets tangled around your legs like they’re trying to hold you down, keep you from moving, from running from the truth that’s finally caught up to you.

The dream was so vivid it may as well have been real. It wasn’t just a memory, wasn’t just another unwelcome reminder of Quinn’s existence — it was something else entirely. Something new. Something that felt so raw, so visceral, so devastatingly consuming that you could still feel the ghost of his touch on your skin, the heat of his body pressed against yours, the weight of his name thick on your tongue. You swear you can still taste him, still hear the low rasp of his voice murmuring against your ear, still feel the way he held you, worshiped you, and took you apart like he had every right to.

And you wanted it. God, you wanted it so badly.

The realization sits heavy in your stomach like a lead weight, nausea curling at the edges of your consciousness. It’s not just some intrusive thought, not just a fleeting moment of weakness. It’s something deeper, something more dangerous. It’s the kind of desire that threatens to upend everything you’ve built, the kind that makes you question every choice you’ve made since Quinn walked out of your life.

You press the heels of your hands into your eyes, trying to block it all out, trying to push the images away. Caleb is sleeping beside you, blissfully unaware, his breathing slow and steady. He’s good. He’s steady. He’s the kind of love that doesn’t set you on fire, but keeps you warm.

But warmth has never been enough to stop you from craving the burn.

You sit up, legs swinging over the side of the bed, toes curling against the cold wood floor as you try to shake the dream from your mind, but it clings to you like a second skin. You know then, in that moment, that something has to give. Something has to change.

You can’t keep pretending that Quinn isn’t still under your skin, still a part of you. You can’t keep pretending that this is sustainable, that you can shove him into the darkest corners of your mind and expect him to stay there. Because he won’t. He never has.

You take a shaky breath, your fingers curling into the sheets. There are only two choices now. You either find a way to finally, truly exorcize him from your life for good — or you give in to the pull that’s been dragging you back to him since the moment he told you he missed you.

The clock on your side table reads a quarter past midnight. You know Quinn’s habits. You know how they used to contradict yours, the way his mind would keep him up until the early hours of the morning. He’s probably up. He’s probably thinking hockey. Thinking about how he can change, how he can improve, how he can lead better. You wonder if maybe his mind slips from hockey. Maybe it slips to you?

So you do something reckless. Something you swore you wouldn’t do.

You get up. You grab your vest and your keys, not bothering to change into proper clothing. You ignore the tightness in your chest as you slip out of Caleb’s apartment, moving through the cold, empty parking garage like a ghost yourself, drawn by something you don’t understand but can’t resist. Your internal autopilot takes you down a familiar route, your heart pounding with every turn you take.

You don’t know what you’re expecting as you approach Quinn’s building, but you hope it’s still the same one. Hope that, for all the ways things have changed, this one thing remains the same. Because if it doesn’t — if you get to his door and find a stranger behind it, or worse, nothing at all — you don’t know what you’ll do.

But when you step inside the familiar lobby, heart hammering against your ribs, your breath leaves you in a rush. It’s the same. The same floors, the same dim lighting, the same quiet hum of the elevator as you press the button for his floor. Your stomach twists as you watch the numbers climb, each one bringing you closer to something you might not be able to take back.

By the time you’re standing in front of his door, your entire body is buzzing with nervous energy, hands clenched into fists at your sides. The reality of what you’re doing crashes into you all at once, but it’s too late to turn back now. You’re here. You’ve already made your choice.

You raise your hand, knocking twice, sharp and decisive.

Seconds pass. Then more. And just as doubt begins to creep in — just as you think maybe, mercifully, he’s not home — the lock clicks. The door swings open, and there he is.

Quinn.

His hair is tousled, dark strands falling over his forehead like he’s been running his hands through it all night. He’s in a hoodie and sweats, and for a brief, excruciating second, you imagine how he must look underneath — imagine the way his body must still move, still feel.

His eyes widen when he sees you, surprise flickering across his face before something else settles there — something heavier, unreadable. His brow furrows as his gaze sweeps over you, taking in the obvious signs that you’d been asleep before rushing over. The floral sleep shorts, the hoodie far too thin for the cold, the puffer vest thrown on in haste. The messy, low braid, the fuzzy slippers, the oversized glasses that Quinn always thought were too big for your face — but you looked so damn cute in them.

“What are you doing here?” Quinn's voice is rough, like he hasn’t spoken in hours, maybe even like he’s just woken up, though you know that not to be the case. Or maybe it’s just the weight of the moment settling between you, thick and heavy like fog rolling in over the water.

You swallow hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. Now that you’re standing here, now that you’ve actually done this, the words don’t come as easily as they did in your head. But you didn’t come all this way to back down now.

“I—” you falter, inhaling sharply before forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “I needed to talk to you.”

Quinn studies you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he steps back, pulling the door open wider. The second you cross the threshold, it’s like stepping back in time. His apartment smells the same — clean, but lived in, a mix of laundry detergent and something inherently him. The familiarity sends a pang straight through your chest. You shouldn’t still remember these details. You shouldn’t still care. But you do.

He closes the door behind you, and when you turn to face him, the air between you feels thick, charged. His arms are crossed, his stance guarded, like he’s bracing himself for whatever you’re about to say.

“So?” His voice is quieter now, tinged with something that almost sounds like resignation. “What did you need to talk about?”

Your fingers tighten into fists at your sides. You remind yourself why you’re here. Why you needed to see him.

“You shouldn’t have said it.” The words slip from your lips before you can stop them.

Quinn’s jaw tenses. “Said what?”

“You know what.”

Silence stretches between you, taut and unyielding. He knows. You know he knows. And yet, he just watches you, waiting.

You exhale harshly, frustration bubbling beneath your skin. “At the party. You shouldn’t have told me you missed me.”

Quinn’s throat bobs as he swallows. His arms drop to his sides. “Why not?”

“Because it messed with my head,” you admit, voice cracking slightly. “Because I was fine. I was moving on.”

He scoffs softly, shaking his head. “Were you?”

“I was,” you insist, even though your voice lacks the conviction you wish it had. The words sound brittle, as fragile as glass. “I was happy, Quinn. I was growing. Moving forward. And then you—” You break off, shaking your head as the emotions rise, thick and suffocating in your throat. “Then you showed up and dragged me right back to where I was before. Heartbroken over you.”

Quinn flinches, but it’s fleeting. He schools his features into something colder, unreadable. You almost wish he wouldn’t. You almost want him to hurt the way you’ve been hurting.

“I’m with Caleb now,” you say, the name a tether, an anchor you cling to. “And he’s—he’s incredible, Quinn. Everything a girl would ever hope for in a boyfriend.”

Quinn’s eyes darken, but you barrel on, desperate to get the words out before they choke you. “He’s thoughtful. He listens. He shows up. God, he’s everything you weren’t.”

The silence that follows is deafening. For a second, you wonder if you’ve gone too far, if the bitterness in your voice has crossed a line you’ll regret. But then Quinn speaks, and his words slice through you like a blade.

“Sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself that he’s enough for you.”

The audacity of it — the sheer nerve — snaps something inside you.

“You’re a fucking asshole.” you snap, your voice trembling with fury. Quinn doesn’t back down. His gaze is steady, unflinching, and it infuriates you.

“I mean, God! You’re haunting me, Quinn! Like some goddamn ghost with a vengeance.” The words spill out before you can stop them, raw and unfiltered. “Ever since that stupid party, you’ve been everywhere. In my head, in my dreams, even when I’m with Caleb—”

You stop yourself, but it’s too late. The truth hangs in the air between you, heavy and damning.

Quinn’s brow knits together, eyes sharp with something knowing. “Even when you’re with Caleb?” he repeats, voice low.

You hate him for that. Hate the way he can see right through you, the way he always has.

“Forget it… You know you’re so goddamn infuriating the way you think you can just walk back into my life and tell me something like that!” you say, your volume raising with every word. You knew it was late and Quinns’ neighbors would probably have some choice words for him in the morning, but right now you couldn’t care less about his reputation as a tenant.

Something flickers in his gaze, something guilty, something hesitant. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Oh, don’t,” you snap. “Don’t fucking say you didn’t mean to. You knew what you were doing.”

He swallows hard, his jaw tightening. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s it?” You shake your head, laughter bubbling up again, but it’s hollow, bitter. “That’s all you have to say? No genuine apology, no explanation, nothing. Just… sorry. Sorry for what, Quinn? Sorry for being a coward, sorry for being a fucking asshole?”

Your voice cracks as you continue, the weight of your emotions finally breaking through the thin veneer of anger you've clung to. Tears blur your vision, hot and relentless, but you don’t stop. You can’t.

“Sorry for letting me fall in love with you and then walking away like it was nothing? Sorry for showing up at that party and throwing my entire goddamn life into chaos? Sorry for being in my head all the time, in my bed, in my fucking heart?” Your voice falters, raw and ragged. “Or are you just sorry because I showed up here and ruined your night?”

Quinn takes a step closer, his face tight with emotion, but you don’t give him a chance to speak.

“You ruined me, Quinn,” you sob, the admission wrenching free from your chest. “And I hate you for it. I hate that I can’t forget you. I hate that no matter how hard I try, you’re still here.” You press a shaking hand to your chest, where your heart feels like it’s splintering apart. “I should be over this. I should be happy. I am happy. Caleb is good. He loves me—”

Your voice breaks completely, and the tears come in earnest now, unstoppable and all-consuming. Your shoulders shake with the force of it, all the pain and confusion and longing spilling out in a way you’ve never let yourself feel before.

Through your sobs, you manage to choke out one final, devastating truth: “But I still love you, and I hate myself for it.”

The weight of your confession hangs heavy in the room, and for a moment, there’s only the sound of your ragged breathing and the thick, oppressive silence that follows.

And then Quinn moves.

He crosses the distance between you in two long strides, his hands coming up to gently but firmly grip your shoulders. You try to pull away, ashamed of your outburst, but he doesn’t let you. Instead, he pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you in an embrace that’s as familiar as it is shattering.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “God, I’m so sorry.”

His words are a balm and a blade all at once. You press your face against his hoodie, the fabric dampening your tears, and you cling to him like he’s the only thing keeping you upright. His hand rubs slow, soothing circles on your back, grounding you in the midst of your chaos.

For a moment, you let yourself sink into him, the comfort of his presence erasing everything else. His warmth seeps into your bones, and despite every rational thought screaming at you to pull away, you stay. It's dangerous, how easy it is to fall back into this, how simple it feels to let him hold you like he used to.

“I tried to move on too,” he admits quietly, his voice low and raw. “But it’s you, it’s always been you.”

His words tear through the walls you've built, leaving you exposed and vulnerable. You want to push him away, to tell him to shut up, but your body betrays you, leaning closer instead. It's infuriating, this pull he has on you, this gravitational force that drags you back no matter how far you run.

Then his lips find your temple, lingering there as if he's testing the waters, asking permission without words. You shudder against him, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. His lips move down, pressing soft kisses along the apple of your cheek, until he hits the corner of your mouth. His hand tightens at your waist, and before you can think it through, his mouth is on yours.

It's everything you remember and more.

His lips are soft but insistent, moving against yours with a hunger that matches your own. The anguish melts away, replaced by a desperate, aching need that leaves you breathless. His hands trace up your torso, holding your chest against his, and you let out a sound you can’t contain as he deepens the kiss.

It's intoxicating. Familiar and yet completely new. He tastes like everything you miss, everything you swore you didn't need but always craved.

And for a moment, you let yourself get lost in it.

But then the weight of reality slams into you.

You break away, gasping for breath, your chest heaving. Quinn's eyes are dark and dazed, his lips red and swollen, but you don’t let yourself linger on the sight. You push him back, putting space between you, your heart pounding so loudly you can hear it in your ears.

“What the hell are you doing?” you demand, your voice shaking with anger and confusion. “You can’t just— God, Quinn, you can’t just kiss me and expect everything to be okay!”

He takes a step toward you, but you hold up a hand, stopping him. “No. Don’t. Just… don’t.”

The tears are back, blurring your vision, but you blink them away. “You don’t get to ruin me and then kiss me like it fixes everything. That’s not how this works.”

Silence stretches between you, thick with tension. Quinn looks like he wants to say something, but you don’t give him the chance. You’re already moving toward the door, your hands trembling as you reach for the handle.

“Wait,” he says, his voice desperate. “Please— don’t leave like this.”

You pause, your back to him, your shoulders stiff. “I can’t do this, Quinn. I just… I can’t.”

And then you’re gone.

You don’t look back as you walk down the hallway, the sound of your footsteps echoing in your ears. Your chest feels like it’s caving in, your lungs struggling to take in air. But you keep moving, keep walking, because stopping would mean facing the truth you’re not ready to confront.

That no matter how much you hate him for complicating your life, for breaking your heart, for being the chaos in your carefully constructed world — you can’t fully hate him.

Because deep down, you still love him.

And that terrifies you more than anything else.

[somerandomcockroach]

*sets the sofa, sits down* AND WE RIGHT AWAY START FROM THE PROWL IS AND WILL BE A MURDERED STATEMENT. GOOD AHAHAH Love how much Prowl improved in reading emotions. Orion. You ask Prowl something that he probably memorized from the book and he of course will tell you a book definition. Don't cut it with your merely "It's a massacre" Still wonder at the fact of how much functionists had to f*** up the whole situation for the beasts, who are more than capable of intelligent thinking and just different by their mode or different things that can not even appear in them in the first place, for this whole situation to appear that even the "compromise" seems like a hardly reachable option. I understand if other monsters who are, more bests than mechas. But most of them seem to be, decent, normal, minding their business, just trying to find a fuel/food, yeah, this last is easily solvable.

Yeah, Orion, exactly, let me sit with you

Oh, here we are, Orion snaps at Prowl. Do it, he went in a different direction, the one leading to murder and blood, you know. The problems that are solved hard way are never logical ahah, good luck, Prowl *looks at Orion trying to see a glimpse of emotion from Prowl for at least his own death to crack his logic* I need a minute Orion for god's sake could you like, fake laws and give him your own written full of ponies and funsies?? You were giving him official books with laws, I'm sure a lot of written by Functionalists and you expect to break the logic that was based on it??? OH RATCHET. PROWL CAN DO NOTHING. OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAYOKA YAOKAYAOKAY. OKAY. NO ONE SAID RATCHET??? RATCHET, COULD, JUST, ARRRGHHHHHH BASTARDS ORION AND SHOCKWAVE MAXED THE "LOOK AWAY IN TIME" ABILITY BUT NO ONE TOLD RATCHET? OH YES. GETTING RID OF YOUR OWN SIGHT AND LEAVE. I BET THIS IS NOT A LOGICAL THING TO CONSIDER FOR PROWL EHEHHEHEE OH MY GOD sorry I need to sit because. Yes clean floor is an easy goal. But Prowl. You are. About to get such a big and complicated to reach goal that it is so mindblowing to now look at you and consider other golems. (Eh, sudden thought of someone getting off his artefact) Prowl. on which side you play I don't understand anymore. Are you trying to make a god out of Orion to scare functionalists by actually making good for them or what.

PROWL YOU COULD. YOU COULD COME UP WITH SUCH GREAT PLANS OF MASS MIGRATION OR AT LEAST BETTER HIDINGS FOR THEM. TRICKING ALL THE TROOPS. YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO FIGHT EVIL, NOT JOIN IT. oh, CONGRATS, your education went to the point where it became wrong! Congrats, Prowl, we are on a changing point ahah! YES IT IS HIS ARMY. HIS ARMY OF POWERFUL, MAGICAL, SAVED AND THANKFUL BEASTS WHO CAN FIGHT FOR SHOCKWAVE, AND I ACTUALLY WISH THAT THEY DID. I WISH THEY DID BEFORE IT WAS TOO LATE. PROWL CAUGHT HIS BEFORE HE EVEN STUMBLED. PROWL MAKES WRONG THINGS BUT. BUT THE FACT THAT HE ACTUALLY COVERS HIM THIS WAY NO MATTER HOW BAD IT IS. I'M SURE ORION IS NOT HAPPY. SHOCKWAVE HAS NO ONE TO COVER HIM WHERE IT COULD KILL HIM. BUT EVERYTHING AROUND HIM IS BUILT WITH GREEN WALLS THAT ARE MUCH STRONGER THAN DENSE WALLS OF BLOOD.

I have several levels of uncomfortable feelings from this part

YOU DID NOT JUST GO TO SHOCKWAVE'S ACADEMY. THEY ARE NOT THE BEASTS YOU CAN TOUCH. EVER. OH MY FRICKING GOD OKAY HERE I CRY FOR REAL. THE SCENE OF HIM. SWORD AND BOOK. PROTECTING WITH EVERYTHING HE HAS. STANDING LIKE A MOUNTAIN AND THE PRIMUS ITSELF

THE COUNCIL WOULDN'T LET HIM DO THIS.... ..... what...... The burns are from?..

............ I just understand that. That I'm sure the way Shockwave "changed" is so many times harder and more powerful because of who he is and what he is capable of... Get Prowl, Orion nd Ratchet at one table and ask them if what they do will find a punishment from Primus.

............

....................... When Orion is in troubled feelings Prowl searches for Shockwave. All goals are tangled, lost and complicated. His goal became something he cannot reach no more since it evolved too hard. Oh my god I wanna see how... how that goal, something he cannot reach no more, just becomes a part of him, like a self forged motor heart of his, just to keep living. Are they... Shockwave's students?... F** THEY ARE I AM CRYING AGAIN SHIT F** YOU KEF I CANNOT NO MORE DON'T JSHDEDC AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA OKAY BREATH, COMEONE. LAST WILL. *INTENSIFIES CRYING* F*** YOUUUUUUUUUU THEY. EVERYTHING. HE LEFT EVERYTHING TO ORION. SKIDS???? THUNDERCRACKER?? OH DID ORION NEVER HOLD SHOCKWAVE'S SWORD??? or just became too weak from all the events... OH MY GOD THE SCENE OF KNEELING, THE SCENE OF THE STUDENT OF THEIR PASSED MASTER ON THE VERGE OF CRYING AND ALL THE STUDENTS OF HIS DEAR FRIEND KNEELING BEFORE HIM. I AM DEAD NO ONE TALK TO ME. PROWL LOOK. LOOK WHAT AN ILLOGICAL LONG TERM EFFORT MAKES. IT MAKES LITERALLY INEFFICIENT MIRACLE. THE MIRACLE THAT IS WORTH ALL THE PERCENTAGES. YOU DO NOT KILL AND WORK FOR IT TO BE MORE THAN ONE DAY MERCY I mean Ratchet got a boyfriend this way come on

WEHGEHGEWFHWFEWE HELP. I imagined that Shockwave had a score system or something for Skids to actually say "Best student" as something not of a brag level SHOCKWAVE YOU SMART SWEET ROLL I LOVE YOU. HE KNEW HOW TO DO IT RIGHT. SUCK IT COUNCIL AND COUNCIL DARE YOU TO TRY TO USE IT IN YOUR ADVANTAGE.

PROWL I SWEAR TO ALL THE GODS

(side note can I kiss you for just... rotating every possible side of Prowl? Like, I am just, suddenly understood that just a thing of Prowl assuming that Shockwave could betray Orion is something so fittable for him since he considers everything but just... when you look at it from the side of coming up with it. I wouldn't??)

SHOCKWAVE WHAT DID YOU DO.

They are still not executed. So I am sure it isn't about the saving monsters thing. I think Prowl leads the idea in the right direction. I am confused though at why Shockwave turned into demon at this exact time. What was the trigger. I am leaning closer to the dark magic than betrayal anyway

THE GOD MUST BE WRONG

RIGHT DIRECTION, PROWL.

ARE YOU... did you just... led him straight to mimics plotline....

Part 2 of Golem!Prowl AU!

_____________________

“I hate it,” Orion sighs.

“It's understandable. But you can't change the system from the inside without becoming part of it first.”

“I was hoping I could become part of it without becoming a murderer.”

“It's okay” says Prowl ”You don't have to. That's what you have me for.”

Orion twitches.

Part 1. Next->

The fic under the cut⤵️

Orion looks...sick. Worried. Scared.

“Prowl, do you know what the Great Hunt is?”

Prowl tilts his head keeping up with the lists he received from the Council.

“Traditional raids on monsters made to consolidate control over the land holdings of regular Mechs.”

Orion rubs the bridge of his nose

“It's a massacre.”

Prowl twitches his wing.

“It is a measure of intimidation against creatures that cannot be negotiated with. Brutal, I don't deny that, but experience shows it works. The destructive activity of monsters lessens considerably if they know their actions can be followed by punishment.”

Orion stares at him. For a long time. Silently.

Tensely studying him, as if seeing him for the first time.

“You think killing them instead of finding a compromise is...right?”

Prowl thinks he must be treading on unstable ground.

“I think it works. That is all. Monsters do a lot of damage with their existence. They kill, destroy and pillage. If periodically reducing their numbers reduces their damage, it confirms the effectiveness of the strategy.”

“They just want to live. Primus' sake, they want to eat.”

Prowl sighs. More for appearances than for any real effect.

“I suppose I can't judge them for wanting to survive. It makes sense.”

Orion nods.

He looks oddly pensive.

“Ratchet keeps picking up wounded...” he stammers, apparently trying to find a suitable alternative to the word monster “...wounded beastformers. I've been to his house. It's generous, but I'm afraid of what will happen if he gets caught doing it.”

Prowl frowns

“He should have stopped.”

“You wouldn't understand.” sighs Orion ”Him. Shockwave. We want to help. To make things better. I don't need you to chide me for disobeying the rules, I need you to figure out how to change them. Ghosts and insecticons deserve freedom as much as we do.”

“But...”

Orion looks at him angrily.

“No. Whatever you're going to say in response to that. No. I know you're driven primarily by logic, but I need you to remember it well. All sentient beings deserve to live free. Do you understand? All of them. Period.”

Prowl rolls up the lists and interlocks his fingers in front of him. There are small scuffs on his thumbs and index fingers from constant writing. He occupies himself with running his fingers over them, feeling the difference in texture.

“Mech's freedom in such a case ends where someone else's hungry jaws begin. You can't expect monsters and Mechs to just coexist in peace if you give them freedom.”

“No” sighed Orion ”That's why I support Shockwave's idea with creating an academy for magically gifted Mechs. He's helping to show the world that so-called 'dark creatures' can be as civilized citizens as any Mech. He teaches them to find that compromise. We can't just expect centuries of hate and fear to be forgotten once the laws change. We must direct this process. To help the Mechs understand and accept each other. Guide them, you might say.”

Prowl feels a headache coming on, as it always does when Orion requires him to logically solve a problem the answer to which lies in the feelings rather than the intellect. He's not built for this. It irritates him.

Orion stops right in front of him and puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Tell me what you think of this. If...let's pretend for a second that my morality fiddles don't matter anymore. That the problem of Mechs and monsters coexisting is something you alone need to solve. And solve it in such a way that the outcome is optimal for us as a society. To maximize the number of happy citizens. What would you do?”

Prowl is silent for a moment.

Orion squeezes his shoulder lightly before continuing.

“'Free from my judgmental conclusions, Prowl. From the standpoint of pure logic. What should we do?”

What to do...Prowl's thought process finally finds a direct and understandable train of thought. Monsters make up a paltry few percent of the population of all living Mechs. The numbers fluctuate depending on which region is being considered of course.

In some cities, some types of monsters are considered just fancy Mechs. Some monsters have risen from the status of savages to being respectable Mechs over the course of history. Even Orion's best friend, Shockwave, could be regarded as a mystical creature in some regions due to his gift of flight.

Nevertheless. The percentage is still minuscule.

But even that tiny percentage takes a significant toll on the economy and quality of life, because just one uncontrollable creature can terrorize an entire city.

He notes the weight of Orion's hand on his shoulder. Not judgmental. Orion promised he wouldn't judge.

“I'd get rid of the monsters.”

“Oh” Orion blinks ”Locked them in cages? Chased them away? Killed them?”

Prowl twitches his wings

“Banishment will only move the problem in terms of space, and imprisonment isn't secure enough. It would make sense to get rid of the monsters. Once and for all. It wouldn't be pretty or merciful, but it would greatly improve life for everyone, at the cost of a tiny percentage of living beings who were already of no use.”

“And you believe that would be a good outcome?”

“I believe it would.”

“But you're not a Mech yourself.” Orion reminds “Would you be willing to be exterminated along with the rest of the creatures if your plan were put into action?”

Prowl tilts his head slightly. Just to make it easier to look at Orion.

“You created me to, as you put it, help you make the world a better place. Sometimes in order to improve something you have to cut out the factors that get in the way. It's simple logic.”

“You didn't answer my question” Orion points out ”How would you feel if I decided to take your advice and destroy all mystical creatures, including you?”

“I am not made to feel” straightens Prowl ”My job is to find solutions to problems. I gave you a solution.”

“You don't include yourself in the reckoning.” snorts Orion “Again. You talk as if you will never be affected by anything.”

As it should be, Prowl thinks. He's a conscientious worker and a ..seemingly law-abiding citizen. He does what he can to make Mech's lives better. Even though he may not be a Mech, he's doing the right thing. Why would something happen to him?

Orion removes his hand from his shoulder and shakes his head.

“'Alright. I've heard you. But I want to make it as clear as possible - what you suggested is immoral, cruel, and should never be implemented. Do you understand me? Never. If you want to build a better world, you cannot and will not build it on other people's deaths. Have I made myself clear enough?”

“Perfectly clear.”

“Good.”

-----------------

Ratchet looks...many words could be used to describe him.

He's standing in the center of the trial room with a lot of emotions written all over his face. But if Prowl had to describe - he'd say Ratchet practically radiates rage. Not violent. More of a powerless one.

The rage of a Mech who knows he's cornered, but refuses to even consider giving up and admitting defeat.

Prowl sits in a far dark corner, silently documenting the whole process.

The council is furious. They apparently discovered that Ratchet has been dragging wounded monsters to his house and healing them all this time.

Which is ... very much as expected from Ratchet.

Prowl wants Orion here, but both Orion and Shockwave are now on a diplomatic mission a few days away, so the only support Ratchet has is...Prowl. Who can't help in any way, so he just sits there and meticulously documents the whole process so that Orion can then be informed of every single detail.

The council doesn't look happy. They say that Ratchet is sabotaging the hunters' efforts to contain the monsters by his actions.They are angered by Ratchet's absolute determination to insist that he was doing the right thing.

Prowl would be impressed, if only Ratchet's stubbornness made sense.

It's simple math. Ratchet saves lives. Monsters take them.

Thus Ratchet's life has much, much more weight and is more valuable.

If Ratchet would just accept the Council's decision now and promise to stop curing monsters, the whole problem would be solved as efficiently as possible.

But Ratchet, of course, persists. Probably just because that's his nature.

Ratchet can also afford to be so stubborn because his skill level makes him incredibly valuable to the Council. Prowl knows for a fact that if any other medic were in Ratchet's shoes right now - they would have been sentenced to banishment or execution by now.

When Ratchet realizes exactly how the Council caught him, his rage is instantly replaced by shock.

This revelation is enough to startle him and make him back down. To nod and numbly swear that he will end his "blasphemous hobby."

Prowl carefully folds the scribbled scrolls into the case as the Council doors close behind both his and Ratchet's backs.

“Orion will be happy to know that you were prudent enough to avoid death.”

Ratchet shifts his gaze to him

“You knew? Knew they could see through our optics? Did you know they could find out anything about any Mech at any time?”

Prowl tucks his hands behind his back and nods politely

“Knowing things is my job.”

Ratchet sighs. Heavy. Exhausted. Doomed maybe.

“How does Orion deal with it...”

“Orion has a reputation with the Council. They consider him a decent, law-abiding Mech, so they see no point in keeping tabs on him.”

“Are you kidding?” Raetchet raises his eyebrows “Orion can't do everything he does and remain ‘decent’ in their eyes. He and Shockwave practically cuddle with every possible creature every day and all they get is a little reprimand????”

Prowl tilts his head

“Orion learned to look away in time. And he has me for everything else.”

Ratchet doesn't answer him. He rubs the bridge of his nose tiredly and starts to walk away.

His shoulders look oddly tense. He looks defeated, but not in the way a Mech would describe a slain turbofox. No. There is a deep-seated, angry determination.

A willingness to act dictated by desperation.

The news of the surveillance has thrown Ratchet off balance but not knocked him off his feet as the Council had hoped.

Prowl looks at his back and walks off in the opposite direction. The problems of living, feeling Mechs have always been and will always be mysterious to him.

Ratchet does what no one expects him to do.

He doesn't stage protests. He doesn't accept the verdict.

He leaves silently, taking with him only medical supplies and an old lantern.

The council is furious, turning over every stone in an attempt to find him, but all in vain.

Prowl's daily duties now include “keeping track of any possible news related to Ratchet.“

And then, no matter what he finds, report to Orion that he's found nothing.

Put on a little regular show for all concerned. Show the Mechs in the Council that Orion remains loyal and does his best to find and bring to justice any blasphemer whether it's a friend of his or not.

He is his purpose. But the more time passes, the harder it becomes for him to trace the path to the fulfillment of that purpose. He envies the golems whose only function is to scrub floors. Their lives are understandable. A clean floor is a temporary but easily attainable goal. They are happy to fulfill the goal for which they were created. And then they're happy knowing their job is done well, until the floor gets dirty again.

Prowl is walking towards his goal, but it's not getting any closer. He knows what he needs to do to get there, but the variables are constantly changing and he has to adjust his course of action each time according to new information, conditions, and Orion's opinion on them.

Politics is infinitely more complicated than mopping floors after all.

————————————

Orion doesn't turn around on him as they walk down the hall. But Prowl can physically feel the attention focused on him.

“Prowl. Did you know I was awarded today for my ''outstanding service'' by the entire Council?”

“I did not.

“They've gone through all the reports and discovered that according to the logs me and my mechs are performing excellently when it comes to eliminating mystical threats.”

“Congratulations.”

“It's funny that you feel the need to congratulate me too” Orion continues ”Because I certainly didn't give orders to eliminate anyone.”

Their pacing doesn't falter. They continue to walk calmly down the hallway as if nothing is happening. But Prowl can practically taste the increased tension.

“Prowl” says Orion “Why is the Council rewarding me for murder? And where are the Mechs they think I killed now?”

Prowl checks the scrolls. Not because he doesn't remember. Just to buy some time to formulate an answer.

“They were the inevitable casualties. I took charge of their destruction. On your behalf.”

“You know how I feel about killing.”

“I know.” nods Prowl for some reason. Why? Not that Orion can see it “I also know how the Council feels about Mechs showing suspicious activity. They would have started watching you as soon as they noticed you were letting monsters slip away from you suspiciously often.”

Orion...sounds... conflicted. He sounds struggling.

“You killed them.”

“I gave the order. As any other hunter would have done in my place.”

Orion stops so abruptly that Prowl doesn't catch the moment and bumps into his back.

“We're supposed to be better than other hunters Prowl! How can you still not grasp that concept!!!”

Orion looks furious. Prowl discreetly looks around.

Around them is a relatively empty hall. Windows covered by heavy curtains. The cleaning golems scurrying back and forth.

“I understand” he says “But let me remind you that you cannot test their trust infinitely. Your 'being better' rests on your reputation. And it's my job to make sure your reputation lives up to it.”

Orion looks at him...Prowl isn't even sure how to describe it. Usually he has to argue with Orion's logic, proving his point but this time...Orion is the one arguing with him.

It feels strange. Uncomfortable.

He's doing everything Orion wanted him to do, but for the sake of it he has to do something Orion can't stand.

Orion clenches and unclenches his fists helplessly. Rubbing the fabric of his cloak.

“Shockwave can save lives without killing anyone.”

“Shockwave is one unfortunate act away from serious consequences” shakes his head Prowl “His academy is looking more and more like his own small army every day. His students are not loyal to the Council, they are loyal to Shockwave. And the Council knows that. And will use it. And it won't be pretty when it happens.”

“No...” shakes his head Orion, not addressing anyone in particular ”No no no no no...”

Prowl can understand why Orion is upset. But he also knows he's right this time. Shockwave may look like a fine example of mercy, but he walks on the very edge of the law and any wrong move will instantly turn him from “out of the box thinker” to renegade.

The Council will come for his head and the Council will get his head because Shockwave will have nothing to prove his loyalty with.

Orion will. Prowl made sure of that.

Orion can bend the rules, can borrow the Council's trust, can do all sorts of reprehensible things. He can stumble and fall and then fall a couple more times and find that it doesn't hurt him because Prowl caught him even before he stumbled.

He did it at the cost of lives. Yes.

But Orion's life is far more valuable than the lives of monsters.

Society doesn't need monsters to become better, but society needs Orion. Monsters need Orion. Because if Orion is gone, no one else will care about his idealistic goal.

“Sometimes I forget how creepy you can be...” mutters Orion ”You're going to betray me sooner or later.”

“I could never betray you.” Prowl twitches his wing.

“You've successfully betrayed what I believe in.”

“It's fine with me if you hate me for it. As long as you are alive, safe, and can continue your quest.”

Orion falls silent.

He turns away to stare at a strip of light from a nearby window. There are beautiful, wrought iron grates that cast an intricate, curved shadow on the floor and walls.

A golem janitor hurries past them.

“I hate it,” Orion sighs.

“It's understandable. But you can't change the system from the inside without becoming part of it first.”

“I was hoping I could become part of it without becoming a murderer.”

“It's okay” says Prowl ”You don't have to. That's what you have me for.”

Orion twitches.

Shockwave falls.

Prowl isn't there to see for himself, but a lot of rumors reach him. Lots. Lots of rumors.

The Mechs say the time of the Great Hunt has come.

They say that when the hunters arrived on the Academy's doorstep, Shockwave didn't let them in.

They say. He stood in front of the gates.

With sword in one hand and the Primus Covenant in the other, and declared that his school was a sanctuary for all living beings in need of protection.

Claimed that anyone who dared set foot inside with a weapon would have to go through him.

“And they retreated!” gestures Orion frantically ”They didn't dare test him! They backed away from the walls of the Academy. I don't know how many monsters were left alive in the forests that night, but none of Shockwave's students were harmed...”

Prowl listens with a healthy dose of wariness

“The Council wouldn't just let him do that.”

Orion begins nervously winding circles around the room.

“You're right, you're right. You're right now and you were right back then. They're going to bring him before the Court by tomorrow, and...”

“There's no chance of that ending well,...is there?" Prowl finishes his thought.

Orion looks pained

“They'll be going through everything he's been up to. Every forged document, every enrolled Mech who by all criteria should be considered a monster. Every time he sheltered them from the Council instead of destroying them. They'll realize what he's been doing and they won't like it at all.”

Prowl...trying to sound reassuring.

“Shockwave has tremendous support from his Academy. There's a chance the Council will be afraid of invoking their wrath and won't judge Shockwave too harshly.”

Orion continues to walk in circles

“You think so?”

“There is a good chance.”

Prowl finds Orion in Sickbay. Which is very disturbing and wrong, because Orion was supposed to be at the Trial. Supporting Shockwave and begging the Council to relent.

But Orion is in Sick Bay. When he shouldn't be.

And he's covered in ugly dark burns. From something Prowl can't recognize.

This is all wrong. It's all--

“What happened at the trial?”

Orion sounds. Startled.

“There was no Trial.”

“What?”

Orion sounds as if something inside him has cracked. In every sense of the phrase.

“The Trial hasn't even had time to begin. He...” Orion clutches his trembling fingers, hoping to still them, but it has no tangible effect. His shoulders are trembling.

He looks like his whole body could be torn apart with one careless touch. “They asked him if he would plead guilty to aiding and abetting dark creatures. All they had time to ask was if he realized he was wrong.”

An uncomfortable, prickly feeling settles in Prowl's mind.

"And?”

Orion squeezes his fingers so hard the creaking of hinges becomes audible.

“It...I...Prowl, his very spark began to ooze dark magic. It was horrible, it was like.. it was eating him from the inside. The entire courtroom became darker than night, many Mechs got burned. I've never seen anything like this before! He..It.. started attacking Mechs and destroying everything...it was like it went crazy...it attacked me and I had to...Prowl I had to fight it! I didn't...I'd heard about it happening but I believed until the last minute that I wouldn't have to face it...”

Gears of chaotic detail fall into place in Prowl's mind.

“Shockwave...turned into a demon...?”

Orion nods shakily

“The Council didn't even have a chance to sentence him or spare him or even sort out what happened.....

He stated that he did not consider himself guilty for what he had done and...Primus was the one who made the judgment before anyone else could...”

That's... terrifying really. For a number of reasons. Losing a close friend is awful, being subjected to such merciless punishment is awful, but also...

What sends a chill down Prowl's back is the moral implication that such punishment carries.

Orion, as if reading his thoughts, raises his gaze to him

“Is what we are doing...wrong? I don't...does Primus think helping monsters is worthy of punishment?”

Now that's a really reasonable question.

Shockwave would say that Primus is merciful and would never condemn a Mech for an act of kindness. But Shockwave ended up being condemned.

Ratchet would say that he doesn't care about Primus' opinion because Primus isn't real. But Ratchet isn't here.

Prowl wants to say that it doesn't matter whether or not Primus thinks they're wrong, what matters is that he can at any moment force his justice on any living spark, so his concept of right has to become Orion's too, or else he's doomed. But Orion is definitely in no state to have a philosophical argument. He looks shattered and Prowl almost instinctively is about to go and find Shockwave, but remembers that option is no longer available.

He's not made for this. Shockwave has always been the one to cheer Orion up on a bad day. Not Prowl, no. Prowl isn't sure what to do so he just sits down next to him and gently places a hand on Orion's shoulder. The one where he can't see the burns, so it shouldn't hurt.

“I don't. I'm used to always relying on your point of view as a reference for what's right and what's wrong.”

“I know” runs a shaky hand over his face Orion “But it's not like I'm perfect. I try, god, I try but just like with the logical part - my vision isn't flawless. Have I been...wrong all this time? Trying to disrupt Primus' intended vision? Maybe what I've been trying to fix never needed fixing. Maybe it's just me being so stupid and not understanding things maybe...???”

Orion cuts himself off mid sentence, realizing that he's started raising his voice and waving his arms around again. He sits back down on the medical bed and curls back up into a miserable ball.

“What should I do....”

“I don't know,” Prowl repeats awkwardly.

He is his goal. But his goal ..doesn't exist anymore?

He doesn't know where to put himself.

Golems are made to fulfill requests. But Orion's request system has been evolving and complicating for so long that Prowl can't tell where its boundaries are anymore.

He feels lost.

——————————

Orion stops cold.

“What...”

Prowl, standing at his right hand looks equally puzzled.

They are in a spacious courtyard bordering directly on the Council building. It's a very beautiful, open and spacious place because it was originally built with large crowds of Mechs in mind. There's wide walkways, a massive circular plaza with fountains and statues.

And right now, it's filled to the brim with Mechs, most of whom Prowl is seeing for the first time. They're all wearing knight armor and carrying weapons, however still kept in their scabbards.

They look like a small army. A very, very diverse army, Prowl realizes. Because there are almost no regular Mechs among them.

Orion looks... distraught.

Mechs? Monsters? A few knights separate and come closer, bowing their heads respectfully.

“Orion Pax.”

There is so much grief and disbelief in Orion's eyes that it physically hurts to look at him.

When he begins to speak his voice sounds hoarse, like someone has poured sand down his throat.

“What...what are you doing here...?”

The knight standing in front of everyone ceremoniously places his palm on his spark.

“We are here to fulfill the last will of our mentor and your friend. Shockwave has decreed in his last will that in the event of his death his legacy must pass to you and those of us who wish to carry on his work must publicly pledge our allegiance to your will.”

Orion clutches his hands together to keep them from starting to shake again.

“But...I was there. I...your mentor was slain by my hands...how can you..."

"It doesn't matter. Everything that was his is now yours." smiles the knight sadly "We will make sure his legacy lives on. And even if the Academy falls - you can always count on us."

At the same time as he finishes speaking, the knight in blue armor drops to one knee, pulling Shockwave's sword from its sheath and holding it out respectfully to Orion... who looks like he's about to start crying.

He dazedly accepts the sword, twitching in surprise when it turns out to be heavier than expected and probably tries to say something, but all that comes out is a short sorrowful sigh.

He just.

Clutches the sword to his chest, watching in disbelief as all the arriving mechs get down on one knee following the blue knight. There aren't that many mechs, but at this point - they seem to rival the sea.

Prowl knows some of them. Many of them made their way to Shockwave after Orion found them. There's the harpy over there who nearly ripped Orion's head off the first time they met. A few ghosts he can remember the faces of but doesn't know the names. He'd had a long argument with Orion that day, trying to convince him that he shouldn't take their word for it when they promised to make it up to him.

And now they're all here. In beautiful new armor. Executing their mentor's last will and testament.

Just like regular Mechs, only a little eccentric looking.

The crowd of hunters that has come to find out what's going on looks as speechless and dumbfounded as Orion.

" What" Orion also gets down on one knee to be on the same level as the knight "what's your name?"

Prowl squints warily from behind Orion's shoulder. The blue mech looks normal, but to be honest, there's no way someone coming out of the Shockwave Academy is going to be an normal plain mech. There has to be a catch somewhere.

"My name is Skids," smiles the knight shyly. "I am...was...Shockwave's best student."

"You are very brave Skids" smiles Orion sorrowfully "I promise to do my best to take care of Shockwave's legacy. And you."

Orion drops his head on the table tiredly.

"This is crazy..."

Prowl pulls an important document from under Orion's head

"It's also quite devious. Shockwave told them specifically to swear to you where all comers can see it. So there's no way for the Council to accuse you of purposely swaying an army of monsters to your side. Everyone saw that this gift was given by force. Now you have many allies with unique skills who are loyal to you and the Council won't try to take them away because they are firmly convinced that you are loyal to the Council."

Prowl examines the document for damage before setting it aside.

"It is..."

"Shockwave gave you an opportunity."

"And I don't know what to do with it!" raises his head Orion "Shockwave was smarter than me and made a lot of plans in case of...I don't know...anything?? I didn't...Prowl. We've been down this path for so long and I was always sure there would be something good at the end of it. Or at least better than it is now..."

Orion rubs his chin and shakes his head awkwardly

"...But if there's only the wrath of Primus and endless darkness at the end...I can't ask anyone to follow me there. I'm not sure if I can keep going myself..."

He sighs helplessly

"I'm not even sure if that even matters."

"The chance that Shockwave would try to use you in some way was about twenty-eight percent."

Orion twitches

"What?"

"I understand that you're hurt by his...fate." Says Prowl "But have you considered the possibility that Shockwave was being punished for betraying you rather than the Council?"

Orion doesn't even answer at first. Just looks at him dazed and bitter.

"Prowl...no. He couldn't have."

"I'm just speculating" shrugs Prowl "Shockwave was punished but as far as I know God didn't bother to name the exact charge. We don't know one hundred percent what exactly caused his...sentence. He may have betrayed the Council's ideas, or he may have betrayed yours."

They both just exist in silence for a while. Processing the information.

"If...and I mean if!!! If Shockwave was convicted of harboring monsters, then everything we've been doing all this time can be considered useless blasphemy..." says Orion slowly "...but if he was punished for something else..."

"...then that would mean there's nothing wrong with your idea." finishes Prowl.

Orion frowns

"It would also mean that Shockwave lied to me..."

Prowl nods. The situation is ugly no matter which way you look at it.

Shockwave, as Prowl knows him, would hardly have framed Orion, but Mechs tend to go to great lengths to avoid execution.

If Shockwave had shifted some of the blame to Orion then, it would have partially saved him. Was that what he was going to do? Was this what Primus had stopped him from doing?

Orion's finials twitch slowly

"I don't know Prowl. I don't know what to do. I don't want anyone else to get hurt because of my fantasies."

Orion is hard to read, but right now he's an open book.

Prowl tilts his head

"You're scared."

Orion looks. Defeated. Crumpled.

Discolored.

" I am."

Prowl can't work with that. He's used to solving logical problems and making lists and strategies.

He doesn't know how to get someone to stop being scared.

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

"I don't know." mutters Orion "I don't know, I have no idea. It's too much...All these new knights, this whole council situation and now you're also saying that the mech I treasured the most could actually be a liar and...just leave me alone."

"But..."

"Just go away!" shakes his head Orion "Go find something else to do, find a hobby, I don't know! Get out of my head and out of my personal life!"

Prowl nods silently.

Places a couple papers in their places and silently walks out the door.

Gestures a greeting to some mech passing by.

And is completely unsure of what to do with himself.

Orion's too stunned by everything that's happened to give him a clear purpose. And without a purpose, he...he's gone.

He continues to stand by the closed door.

A thought runs obsessively through his mind.

If Shockwave was sentenced for something no one knew about, then punishing him the moment of that trial was a truly terrible decision and even worse timing.

But if Shockwave was sentenced for helping monsters...Prowl isn't sure why his mind resists the idea.

Maybe he's not being objective because he shares Orion's views and aspirations.

Maybe because he has looked at the entire square filled with dangerous monsters and has seen nothing but sorrow and respect in them.

The idea comes naturally.

Then God must be wrong.

He looks at the cleaning golems again. He envies them.

They are peace and contentment.

They are a clear and simple goal.

Probably the biggest stress that happens to them is random mechs passing by and interfering with their cleaning.

And then there's Prowl, standing by with no meaning or purpose and wishing he could throw something heavy because the one who gets in his way is an indefinable force of nature and a complex system of values and beliefs created by millions of years of cultural development....

But Primus can't stop him, can he?

Prowl is not alive. He has no emotion so that his intentions can be categorized as evil, but more importantly he has no spark so that its magic can turn him into a demon.

He is his purpose. His purpose is his god. And Primus stands in his way.

He turns around and walks away.

[potatobugxo]

Omg hey ;) Could I get another headcanon or a part 2 where yarnaby is like a pet to you since you helped him get the metal piece out of his paw, so he always follows you around and always purring around you to the point he’s like glued to your side, even at the safe haven poppy, kissy and doey questions on how you got yarnaby as your ally

oooh yes I love this!!

warnings: none!

🌈pet!yarnaby x player! reader pt2🌈

-now that yarnaby had declared you his friend, having a giant toy lion bodyguard sure had its benefits!

-the little critters who roamed around the factory who had hunted you before now no longer even LOOK in your direction (because they know yarnaby will eat them)

-when you meet back up with poppy and kissy, they are both VERY startled to see that yarnaby is on your side now, basically body guarding you

-"hey guys, so, uh, this is... Yarnaby?" you introduce your new lion friend to poppy and kissy. yarnaby sits down beside you, tilting his head at poppy and kissy curiously

-a welcome ally to say the least, in poppy's eyes, that makes another toy who can fight against the prototype

-when poppy takes you and yarnaby back to safe haven, doey is even more surprised, and frightened at first to see that the giant toy lion is now on your side

-"how on earth did you manage to tame yarnaby?" doey asks, completely baffled.

-"he was injured, so I helped him," you replied simply, as if it were the easiest thing in the world, while the other toys stare at you as if you were insane

-the little smiling critters toys that make up the majority of the safe haven survivors steer clear of yarnaby at all costs, too scared to go near him

-even though now he's as docile as a house cat, if a house cat was the size of the house

-doey is skeptical of yarnaby 's loyalty and insists everyone keep a watchful eye on him, believing he may still be under the doctor's influence

-poppy is surprisingly accepting, and insists upon you using yarnaby to fight the doctor and the prototype

-while on one hand, you do have a literal powerhouse of a toy on your side, on the other, you want to protect your new lion friend at all costs, and don't want to force him to fight

-you've grown fond of yarnaby, and he's grown fond of you!!

[steddieas-shegoes]

if you fall, i will catch you

for @steddielovemonth day 2 using Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper

rated t | 855 words | no cw | tags: high school, prom, slow dance, flirting, open ending but assumed getting together

🪩🕺💃🪩🕺💃🪩🕺💃🪩💃🕺🪩

Prom is stupid.

Steve didn’t even want to come. He didn’t have a date and nothing is more embarrassing than showing up to prom alone. Even the nerds come as a group, dancing and laughing together.

His mom made an appointment for his suit fitting and he couldn’t really explain to her that there was no need. She still thinks he and Nancy are on track to be married when Nancy graduates high school. He doesn’t know how to tell her that he’ll probably die alone.

Okay, that’s a little dramatic. He’s probably not gonna die alone.

But he may die unhappy, and that’s worse.

Most of the music hasn’t been terrible so far, at least. Only one slow song played and no one seemed interested in dancing to it.

Steve’s a fucking wallflower at his own prom. He never saw this coming.

He figures he could probably escape within the next few songs, no one would even notice his absence. He makes a mental plan to wait until one of the parent chaperones walks back to the other side of the room.

Then he’s off.

He manages to escape to the hall behind the gym, the one that leads to the auditorium and drama class, not the main building of the school. No one should be back here. It’s the perfect escape route.

“Never thought I’d see the day when King Steve is trying to escape prom,” a voice says from the end of the hall. The music from the gym is echoing in here, but the voice is much louder. It’s familiar, too. “Miss Wheeler too busy with Byers to dance?”

It’s Munson. Steve sighs.

“Why are you even here?”

“It’s my senior prom, too! Or should those of us not graduating not be allowed?” Eddie walks closer and Steve sees that he’s actually dressed up. It’s not a designer suit like he’s been forced into, but it’s nice. Eddie looks…nice.

“Wait,” Steve registers what he actually said. “Not graduating?”

“Yep. Apparently quadratic formulas are crucial to my development and I cannot enter society until I understand them.” Eddie kicks his foot across the tile, leaving a scuff mark from shoes that have probably been waxed beyond necessity. “And I guess dissecting a frog and turning in homework may have helped.”

“But aren’t you pretty smart?” Steve thought he was one of those dungeon dweebs like Dustin. Dustin’s the smartest person he knows, without a doubt, kid or not. He thought all the nerds who play that game were like that.

“Sure, I’m smart enough,” Eddie scoffs. “But I don’t play by their rules. I forget to do homework. I argue.”

“But if you know the stuff, they can’t fail you.”

“Ah, but they can. I don’t have the Harrington name to convince them to change a D to a C. It’s all good. Everyone expected it.”

Steve’s brows furrow, forehead creasing as he thinks about how many things people expected of him that won’t happen.

“Just because people expect it doesn’t mean you have to give it to them,” he says.

Eddie’s eyes widen and he seems shocked by Steve’s words. But the shock wears off quickly. Steve wonders if he imagined it.

“Right you are! Very wise words from the king,” Eddie bows dramatically.

Steve laughs.

Eddie glances up, tense until he realizes Steve’s not laughing at him, just at the entertainment. He stands straight and holds out his hand.

“I do believe such wise words should be repaid with a dance,” Eddie puts on a fake British accent, nose pointed to the sky, smirk playing on his lips.

Steve thinks this must be what it’s like to be charmed by someone.

“A dance?” Steve asks. “Here? With me?”

“It would be my honor,” Eddie loses the accent and turns his head back down so he’s looking right at Steve’s eyes. “Miss Lauper wrote this song just for us, after all.”

Steve’s confusion grows until he hears the song coming from the gym. He can only imagine how awkward it must be in the gym while some couples slow dance with chaperones watching their every breath. He reaches out and takes Eddie’s hand.

“The honor is mine, sir Munson,” Steve tries for an accent like Eddie had previously, but it falls flat.

Eddie pulls him close, but hesitates before he puts an arm around his waist. Steve feels breathless all of a sudden, like they’ve rocketed into space and he forgot one of those astronaut suits. He nods, giving permission for Eddie to take the lead.

When Eddie pulls him closer, they’re almost flush against each other.

Steve’s heart is racing.

“I didn’t know you were weird,” Eddie admits quietly. It sounds a lot like admiration. He’s swaying them back and forth gently, and Steve finds it’s easy to lose track of everything but the way Eddie’s hands rest on his body. “It’s nice to see you, Steve.”

It’s a lot more than what it sounds like.

As Cyndi Lauper plays, Steve wonders if this is how his prom was always meant to be spent: in Eddie Munson’s arms, falling.

[bestruction]

His favorite positions

Summary: Just a few headcanons about his favorite sex positions with you because i'm a horny mf

Warnings:...Sex?

Missionary

Sasuke favored missionary because it allowed him...Many possibilities. Like with many people, it was the first position you two tried but eventually, the more you two had sex, the bolder he got.

He fucking loved the feeling of your legs around his waist, but what if he pushed your knee up to your chest? What if he puts your legs on his shoulders? Maybe he should place his hands on the inside of your thighs and keep you spread open for him...

This man is addicted to control for many reasons, which makes the idea of you lying down on the bed, just for him, ready to take anything he has to give you way too appealing. On top of that, he gets to watch you bite your lips, whimper his name, and melt as he fucks you just right and eye contact was something that felt deeply intimate and grounding to him.

Missionary allows him to hold your hands softly or pin them above your head. He could just switch it up depending on his mood.

Spooning

Lazy Sunday mornings were always a problem. The sun would shine through the curtains, telling him it was already time to get up. If he came back from a particularly long mission it'd be even worse because it means he needs to visit the Hokage's office to report, but how can he when you are sleeping so peacefully in his arms?

If he tried to call your name it would never work. So based on his experience as your boyfriend, he tried to get your attention by kissing your temples, and behind your ears. He swears it's always innocent at first. But the way these kisses quickly slide down your neck, leaving a warm trail on your skin, makes you doubt his intentions.

He loves spooning because in these moments all he has to do was stick his hands inside your pajama shorts to quickly push through your folds and find your clit. Your back pressed against his chest as your legs instantly opened more for him, giving him easier access to your pussy never failed to get a smirk out of him. He'd whisper "morning" in your ear with that husky voice that you loved, pressing down your bud of nerves to make you whimper his name.

Sasuke liked the gentle intimacy of spooning, how it allowed him to make you cum on his fingers, and still play with your nipples, how everything he had to do to fuck you right was pull down your shorts and pound you slowly until you are begging him to go faster. Definitely one of his favorites.

Against the Wall

I feel like at a certain point, there isn't a wall in the house that you haven't been pushed up against at least once. He is a very impulsive and impatient person and also loves physical touch. It's a way to express what he is feeling without having to use words, which he struggles with a lot. This all means if you two are fighting or you are annoying him a bit too much just because you like teasing him, you might end up getting dicked down.

The first time it happened you were teasing him a bit too much while you two organized the living room, you liked pushing his buttons to see how much you could get away with since he had a soft spot for you. It started with some silly joke you don't remember but when he told you to stop, you didn't and the next thing you knew was that you were being pressed against the wall with your knees shaking, trying to keep yourself upright. If it weren't for his hands on your hips you would have been on the floor in an instant, which is why he loves it.

Again: control. He loved knowing he could make you feel like this. Like a mess against the wall who can't even stop drooling because he keeps hitting that sweet spot inside of you each time, he shoves his dick in your poor pussy. Where's all the teasing now? Lost behind your glassy eyes.

Cowgirl

Sasuke appreciated this position because it allowed you to take control, which he secretly enjoyed more than he liked to admit. Watching you on top of him, hair freely around your face as you place your hands on his chest and do your best to accommodate his size always left him in awe for you. The way your breasts bounce each time you let your hips fall on his cock, how you let your head fall behind you each time his tip kisses deep inside of you making you smile at how good it feels. He had to hold himself back from not cumming way too fast every time he saw that naughty smile of yours. Plus, it gave him the chance to rest his hands on your hips and guide you gently (not so gently sometimes) if you say you are too tired because what do you mean you can't take it anymore? Of course, you can, you can do it for him, can't you?

[perfectlyvalid49]

I think that there are some people who are unfamiliar with the history of antisemitism who aren’t seeing all the different angles of attack that are being used against Jews in the United States right now, so let’s take a minute to examine them.

First, there’s the super obvious attacks that are listed here. The shootings at Tree of Life and at Poway, the Unite the Right rally, the massive increase in antisemitic hate crimes – these are all obviously antisemitic, and really difficult to deny as such unless you’re already really antisemitic.

But we have to take a step back and ask why people are becoming increasingly violent against Jews. Because that’s where there’s antisemitism that a lot of people either don’t see, or refuse to acknowledge. And that’s what @procrazedfan is missing when they said “I don’t think so this time.”

So, I want to start by talking about about the Nazis. Because they also went after non-Jewish people. They targeted non-Aryans, trans people, the rest of the LGBT+ community, and eventually people of other faiths. That list looks awfully similar to the one upthread. But Nazis went after these people because they thought that they were tools Jews were using to destroy German society. And the Republicans are going after these people because they’re tools that the globalists are using to destroy white society. And by globalist, they absolutely mean Jew. There are a million conspiracy theories floating around about why things are so terrible, and virtually all of them point to globalists (Jews), or the Rothschilds (Jews) or George Soros (a Jew) as the base of the problem.

And before anyone starts to think that this is only a problem on the right, the left has the same sort of conspiracies, just tailored to their beliefs, and using the words "Zionist" or "Israel" to mean Jews instead. Trump is in power, at least in part, because the left was too busy attacking Jews or people they perceived to be allies of Jews to even consider the harms a Trump presidency might bring.

And if you’re response to that is, “Well, yeah, but Jews aren’t being directly targeted by Trump’s policies,” then first off, you’re wrong, a lot of Jews are being/will be directly harmed by the laws enforcing Christian supremacy that he’s enabling (just as a start), but also, you’re falling for the plan. You see, for centuries, when kings didn’t want the populace mad at them, they’d find a way to redirect to the Jews. In medieval Europe, this looked like making tax collector one of the few jobs available to Jews, and then getting the commoners mad at the tax *collectors* instead of the guy levying the tax. Hundreds of years later Jews STILL have a reputation of being greedy, even though they were basically just guys who worked for the IRS because the other option was to starve.

Under Trump, it’s going to look like Jews not being the target of legislation that hurts other people. When those people and their allies are rightfully mad that they’re being hosed, it will not be hard for a few people in the right places to shift that anger from the administration (where it belongs) onto the people the administration wants you mad at.

We’re already starting to see this in action. Trump is cracking down on the pro-Palestine protesters in the name of fighting antisemitism. He’s actually testing out how far he can go with limiting freedom of speech and doesn’t care at all about antisemitism, but because he says it’s to fight antisemitism, people who care about freedom of speech are going to be mad about Jews “weaponizing antisemitism” to silence their detractors, and not at the administration that’s actually doing the silencing.

People are going to be mad under the Trump administration. I cannot imagine a future in which he does not make things worse for almost everyone*, and I think it’s going to be bad enough that the populace is going to need the pressure release of a mass violent action, and that’s where this is all going to come together. The right and left both already have conspiracies about how what they’re mad about is the Jews’ fault, and the administration is going to stoke that by making it look like we’re benefiting from their bad actions. They’re coming for us, it’s just slow enough and subtle enough that people who have forgotten what it looked like in the past won’t see it.

*I actually think that with what he’s going to for climate change, he’ll make things worse for actually everyone, even the people who benefit the most from his administration, but that’s a separate rant.

"The fascists hate you too" "they'll come for you next" bitch they are coming for me first. I'm fucking Jewish

[hitlikehammers]

that tune without the words

“It was nice, walking through those woods, talking to you,” and the tone of his voice in admitting it makes the whole shebang another line item for Eddie’s getting-to-know-Steve file: lift this man’s standards out of the fucking gutter—but then his tone’s turning sorta wry: “Even if it was mostly about how you were impressed that I was less of a douche than advertised.” 💕

rating: t ♥️ cw: mid-S4, Vol2, steve goes back for eddie’s ‘body’, interdimensional bat venom can be a hell of an paralytic inconvenience ♥️ tags: eddie munson lives (to go on a date that’s not walking through dead hell-forests 🎉), steve harrington having a one-sided/unfiltered heart-to-heart with the cute boy who carved his probable bisexuality indelibly intonstone 💎 (no biggie), an over abundance of flirting in times of mortal peril, planning a future in an actively crumbling hellscape=(soon-to-be)couple goals, happy ending (and hopeful ending, too!)

for @steddielovemonth day two: "if you're lost, you can look and you will find me // if you fall I will catch you, I'll be waiting" —Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper

title credit here🪶

When they tangled with Vecna, Eddie’s body gets left behind. Sure, yes, they all know the timeline, the logistics, how the story goes. The gates seal. Supergirl goes nuclear. They kinda-half-lose. The town’s a fucking mess. They gotta lick their wounds.

But the in-between bits get hazy, see.

Specifically when Steve went AWOL and ran back, jumped through the closing gate he’d just barely managed to climb up through in the first place, given the extent of his wounds, and runs for the body they abandoned because he doesn’t leave his people behind.

And somehow in just a couple days, Eddie counted as his people. Even just his body.

The strength, the speed, the stamina to not have been stuck in the Upside Down, to not have dropped the dead weight in the way back up, to not have got suctioned in and crushed in half as the fissures crept closed: that’s the fucking stuff of legends, of parents lifting trucks off pinned children. No wonder they call Steve the mom.

But yeah. Eddie’s body’s left behind.

For like…ten minutes, max.

Then Steve fucking Harrington had to be all Steve fucking Harrington about it, say fuck that, and weigh the risk of two dead bodies as sufficient collateral to leap like it was a fucking two-for-one at Melvald’s.

Bastard made it back, too. Bloody as fuck, everything that’d healed even a little bit torn at least twice as wide in breaking back open; three extra broken bones, with at least on being a rib that there’s genuine concern over puncturing a lung with one more wrong move—and a likely one, given the evidence thus far.

And also, there’s Eddie.

Eddie, who’s breathing, who they don’t know until later whether Steve managed to somehow resuscitate, or if the powers that govern the hellscape zapped him back for nefarious reasons, or maybe they’d all just…fucked up and missed that Eddie wasn’t even all-dead in the first place.

Details, remember. The in-between parts got real hazy.

Eddie knew the truth form the get-go, though.

Having to witness Henderson fall apart, draped across him was maybe the most harrowing thing eddie has ever had to live through—but the point was, he did live through it. Everything was foggy, and he felt like his world was blinking too long in between knowing it was still there, like reality and his place in it were too close to sleep to be rooted, to be trusted, to be sure at all that it would last and that his shitty attempts to get any air in weren’t just painful acts of desperation to delay the inevitable.

But then there had been lips on his lips, and he’d tasted his own blood there but then more blood, other blood.

And his lungs were blissfully full for the first time in what felt like eons.

He wants to turn to find out who’s there, whose mouth had just spared him in his torment for even a few extra moments before the end, but he—

He can’t fucking move. He hadn’t realized that part before—oxygen deprivation, hell of a distraction apparently—but now that he clocks it?

That lungful of air’s gasping out fast as fuck as eddie panic because what’s happening what is happening—

What’s happening is that mouth on his again, giving him back the breath he’s foolishly wasting on panic, coupled with a too-broad hand, palm braced at his chest and fingers curled up his shoulder: firm. Steadying.

“Poison,” a voice says low, close to him enough that eddie thinks he maybe feel warmth from it but he’s not sure, he’s not sure what he does and does not feel and that’s most of the fucking terror: “in the venom. My legs were numb as fuck after, the went too deep at the core and it just fanned out, couldn’t feel a fucking thing but the pain til we got supplies.”

The hand moves fuller to his chest like it’s testing something, then the lips are back, filling up his lungs, like someone who knows how this works, who’s done it before—

A lifeguard would know. Would have done it before and…

Okay, like, Eddie didn’t spend most of every summer the past handful of years in a carefully disguised little copse of shadey trees near enough to keep the community pool in his sights because he was planning to get in the water, y’know?

“But then it felt like there wasn’t enough air when I tried to breathe deep, way worse than my legs, like from,” and he touches Eddie’s neck, then, where the bats barely got him by comparison to…other places so Eddie thinks—with the newly-restored moments of oxygen to his brain cells—Steve’s talking about his suspicious noose-shaped souvenir.

Eddie wants to be able to see, wants to see and know with all his sense that this is steve: touching him and coming back for him and saving him and—

“You’re still breathing,” and shit, it’s like Eddie’s prayers are answered without a god believed in, his fucking lucky day, because Steve’s leaning and holding still so the his cheek under Eddie’s nose, and the bow of his lips just at the corner of Eddie’s mouth, gasping out his assessment when the hint of damp the exhale gathers on his skin, all with a kind of relief that feels…too big, really. Like Eddie can’t possibly deserve that. They barely know each other.

But fuck if Eddie—who was very much banking of giving up the goddamn ghost down here just a couple minute prior, especially once everyone had left and he was just staring at the red lightning waiting to be struck down for good—but fuck if Eddie is gonna pretend he doesn’t want to deserve that care and relief, to merit and earn it for himself, specifically from Steve, especially the Steve he’s gotten to know in the last seventy-two hours. All the shit about crisis revealing a persons true nature?

Sign Eddie the fuck up for a) all of Steve Harrington and his truest true nature as well as b) the sworn duty of keeping this far too tightly wound paladin barbarian crossbreed marvel of a specimen from any more crises, and ensuring the opposite instead, maybe like, holding him close. Kissing his neck. Falling asleep in each other’s arms. More…stuff like that.

Time probably moves faster the vacuum of real actual Armageddon, so. He probably can shrug off the ‘barely know each other’ stuff.

His heart’s doing a little floppy-floppy thing with Steve’s mouth still so close; with knowing Steve’s mouth had been closer, so. Yeah. He’s sold, 100% on board. Bring him the dotted line, he’ll be Mrs. Harrington by morning.

Or…evening? It’s just fucking dark here, he doesn’t even remember what day it is.

“Too much,” and Steve’s not moving form where he’s gauging—presumably—Eddie’s breaths at the source, whispering and so, so close as he waggles his hand around; “before, but,” and Eddie gets it quick: too much commotion. To much hysteria, and more than merited, but Dustin’s sobbing? Robin’s shaking, Nancy’s armor-grip on her gun making trying to measure a pulse less than worthless and Steve…Steve has getting them the fuck out before the gates closed, Eddie remembers hearing that—which begs the question of why he’s here again bow, but one thing at a time.

The one thing Eddie wants to focus on is Steve thought to come back at all, and thought it not inpossible to find him alive and not-yet-but-still-eventually-capable-of-kicking, because the bats had numbed him to fuck, too.

And he hadn’t told anyone, Jesus fuck—this man, and giving more shirts about him already than Eddie’s maybe given for anyone, is gonna be what actually manages to put him six feet in the goddamn ground.

“I had a feeling,” Steve says, and Eddie doesn’t have to try and fail to turn to see the triumphant smirk he’s pulling, still relieved but like, vindicated now, too.

“And even if I didn’t,” he sobers quick; “I wasn’t leaving you here.” And Eddie wouldn’t stilled if he was capable of moving in the first place because…yeah, he’s basically figured he was being left here. Was pretty much solidly on his way to making his peace with it too when feet landed close to his knees and lips closed over his own and the rest is…

Is now. Where Steve Harrington doesn’t leave Eddie Munson, even as the world ends in their fucking faces and all proves to be as good as lost.

He won’t settle for them counting among the loses and that’s…

That’s just kinda…wow.

“Was really banking pretty hard on that feeling, too,” and Eddie hears Steve’s voice strain a little, even as there comes a little tiny huff of slightly manic laughter, and a rip of fabric from fuck knows where. “Want to get to know you better, Munson,” he says, tight like he’s holding up tensions, or swallowing back pain and Eddie doesn’t like that, and likes even less that he can do fuck all about it right now.

But if they’re gonna be in the business of getting to know each other better, then Eddie’s filing that sound away in the ‘keep that shit away from Steve forever’ file.

Eddie likes dealing with forevers in his head, because they so rarely work out for him in life. He craves disappointment, maybe; but.

“Walking through the woods, half-fucking paralyzed was some of the,” Steve starts, honest and earnest before Eddie catches half-a-shrug out the corner of his eye and…maybe he’s not the only one who deals in forevers in their head, and if he’s suddenly not the only one, maybe less disappointing could possibly be imminent.

Maybe.

“It was nice, talking to you,” and the tone of his voice in admitting it makes the whole shebang another thing for the getting-to-know-Steve file: lift this man’s standards out of the fucking gutter—then his tone’s turning sorta wry:

“Even if it was mostly about how you were impressed that I was less of a douche than advertised.”

Eddie wants desperately to laugh, to bump shoulders with Steve again like he did a little, tries for more when they were walking side by side, he wants so fucking bad—

Then there’s fire in his fucking throat.

“Oh, fuck,” Steve sounds more startled than concerned, where Eddie’s kinda afraid his neck is melting into lava or some shit; “yeah, yeah, baby,” and hold the fuck up, what did Steve just say, what did Steve just call him? Our of nowhere?

The lava feeling’s way less important; in fact, takes enough of a back step to make some sense with Steve’s neck words, with his hand back in Eddie’s chest to brace his shoulder:

“You’re coming back, just keep,” he’d tries to laugh, and the sound had gotten lost on Eddie in the agony but it hadn’t been lost in Steve, his baby, holy fucking shit—

“Oh.”

Steve’s tone is something entirely new; awed a little, floored a little, not bad, so that’s a plus, but…overwhelmed like at the edges but then fucking ecstatic in the middle, which down here shouldn’t even be possible, until his hand pressed a little harder into Eddie’s ribs on the less mangled side and—

“Strong enough to feel, now, even when I still can’t feel everything,” Steve’s face swims, gorgeous and kinda like an answer to the universe in the minimal view space Eddie has to work with as he slowly crawls back online, a process not actually being helped by Eddie putting together what’s causing Steve’s reaction—the way his heart’s pumping’s growing a little undeniable even on his own end, and Steve’s hand feeling the raw effects of Steve on Eddie’s body right now isn’t helping matters at-fucking-all, but also Eddie never wants that touch to leave him ever fucking again, ever.

It’s a delicate sort of contradiction.

“Shit, yeah,” and Steve’s laughing, and it’s a soft joy-tinged thing less than the manic hysteria thus far.

Eddie’s fucking toast, man. No hope for him now.

“Strong enough even if I’m kinda fucking shaking,” Steve holds out his hand that, yeah, is in fact a little trembly but hey.

Eddie can’t feel shit yet too good, but he’s almost certain he’s got to be no better. Blood in his veins certainly ain’t winning any awards for steadiness.

And Steve leans down, this time back with another one of those vaguely hysterical laughs and Eddie can’t see everything outside of the angle his head’s held at just now, and the whole problem really starts with how he can’t feel a lot of shit á la bat venom, but.

If Eddie had any money, he’d actually wager that Steve fucking Harrington. Just touched his lips to Eddie’s neck, just kissed where his pulse would kick between his collarbones. And, true or not, the possibility of that?

Holy fucking shit.

“I hope these aren’t too tight,” Eddie sees the motion from Steve’s shoulder, feels…or thinks he feels the lightest ghost of pressure at his fucked up side: tight. The tearing from before; Steve had been wrapping his sorry ass up.

Talk about Eddie’s goddamn knight in shining armor, Jesus fuck.

“Pretty sure it came down to the fact that their poison hit me like it did because of where they got me the worse, and that’s what made me hope in the first place, you know. Your worst bleeders are in the meat,” and yeah, Eddie really does think that’s real sensation for the soft press of Steve’s hand at his flank, not say nothing of the burning flush to his cheeks, blood’s moving just fine there.

“Fucking deep but not so close to the bloodstream, to pump around and make it worse,” and he touches Eddie’s neck again, and ah: that was why Steve had the reaction he did, mainline to the ticker to get it all swum around. “More of it in you, obviously, because there were more of them, more teeth, but not up here,” and fuck Steve Harrington for the way his hand brushes Eddie’s neck almost tender-like, just…fuck him; “no a direct fucking line to the source.”

Yes. Fuck him. Preferably soon and with Eddie at full sensation and on a horizontal surface that’s not bloodsoaked and vaguely reeking of rot.

Just, y’know. If anyone’s taking note of preferences.

“Thank god for it,” Steve breathes out, the air fluttering over Eddie’s face and he can feel it and he wants to cry, he wants to jump up and dance; can’t do that year but his pulse makes a damn good attempt.

“But yeah, anyway, just walking through hell with you was,” Steve shifts back to the part where he’d seemed to be extolling the virtues of apocalyptic flirting, but before Eddie can file it away to do so much better in whatever’s to come? Steve’s slotting his fingers between Eddie’s own; he can’t feel the whole of it, but he damn well feels enough to know the way they fit is perfect, like they were cut form the same clay millennia ago.

Of course Eddie’s heart goes flippy-floppy again; it fucking has to.

“Not the part about Nance so much, though.”

And Eddie thinks he frowns because…oh.

Oh right, yeah, he really hasn’t had a glimmer of hope in hell that what kinda feels like is happening right now was even on the goddamn table, so…maybe he had tried to funnel his sense of pure and unadulterated loss into at east giving the boy he wanted, what < i >that boy wanted.

Whoops.

Won’t be making that mistake ever again, though, at least. Lesson learned, loud and clear.

“That’s been and gone, man,” steve sighs, a if Eddie needs more convincing. “And I don’t want to go back to where I left it. I want to love someone, who loves me.”

It feels heavy and vulnerable, but all Eddie wants to do is shot me, it can be me, let me have the adventure of learning how to love every bit of you better than you ever thought to even hope after pretty fucking please with a goddamn cherry on top—

“So she’s,” Steve huffs, definitive-like: “out of the picture. She could maybe learn to be that, but, and Steve moves, the most intentionally he’s done it so far to look Eddie straight in the eye when he wraps up the point:

“I’m not interested enough to wait.”

Which means it’s no fucking coincidence, that eye-contact, and Eddie’s ping-ponging pulse for it is 100% prevent valid and then some.

“And I know can’t talk right now, so I get this isn’t really,” Steve sucks his teeth in a genuinely unbearably adorable way; “fair, or probably even like, wholly ethical,” and Eddie’s only been around for days but that sounds like Robin right there, and the feeling of a dangerous pull near his cheek makes him think the urge to smile wasn’t wholly ignored by his beat to shit body, fucking progress.

“So think of it just like a,” he hums, then snaps his fingers as he lands on: “suggestion! A suggestion. Like me, just, putting it out there, which I usually do before anyone feels the same way anyway so this is just like, variation on the theme, but,” and Steve’s eyes are so big, Eddie’s never seen them looks this way before while Steve tips his whole face so Eddie can watch before he can sit up or turn his neck, must be fucking painful but he doesn’t even flinch, and Eddie’s only ever just kinda fallen for the puppy droop of those gorgeous eyes. Now they’re all, big and wide and bright and breathless and holy shit, Eddie’s really is just so screwedbest thing ever.

“I want to take you to dinner, a movie.”

Okay, hold up. That idea, said out loud and meant and directed to him: that might be the best thing ever.

“Maybe a drive in so no one will see if you let me hold your hand, or put my arm around you, or start necking with you halfway through,” like that isn’t making Eddie wonder if he just can’t feel the hard on every piece of him is very convinced he has to have right now, if his body can actually pony up just yet.

“If you want, of course. We could go slow,” and it’s like Steve’s thought about it, like this isn’t just adrenaline and near-death and zero impulse control. It’s most like he…like he actually wants. “Just a movie, even like at my house. Or yours. After they,” Steve clears his throat, the only part he’s even hinted awkwardness in; “after they take care of that.”

Ah. Right. Eddie probably does now have a trailer anymore.

Weird how little he’s caring about that at the moment.

“I could cook, I’m not bad at it,” Steve’s ploughing in with secret knowledge because: Harrington. Apron. Sauce on his cheek. KO-fucking punch to the heart, no survivors.

“Takeout’s fine too, I’d get whatever you wanted,” he pivots before trialing of, chewing his bottom lip then saying a little softer:

“But I would look up recipes too, practice to learn your favorite foods.”

And maybe Eddie really was never supposed to survive the Upside Down. He just maybe completely misinterpreted the way he was gonna fuckin’ die .

“I’d kiss you at the door if that’s okay, if that’s not to far,” then Steve’s bit-sparkle eyes darken even in the hell-dim around them; “or take you to bed if you wanted, but only as much as you were sure.”

And y’known how Eddie’s heat’s been flippy-flopping?

What it starts doing then leave that schoolgirl shit to dhame.

“I want to date you, basically,” and Steve’s shoulders are all squared up, like he’s making a pitch that has any chance of failing, and Eddie does have some working knowing of the past failures…thing, but he genuinely believes those fuckers have been at least partially brain dead to leave a man like this free for the taking, by Eddie of all fucking people.

“I want to try, and see if we can be something,” and the way he says those words, it’s…it’s like a soft perfect flame in Eddie’s chest, the first thing he thinks he can feel again fucking perfectly right,

“‘Cause fuck Eddie, I’ve been looking for something for what feels like forever, and the only thing I keep coming back to for any of it is thinking about you, and ain’t that a plot twist, the deepening of the idea that any of this stretched last what started in that fucking boathouse. “Had a whole-ass sexual awakening over you when you started shepherding my kids, can’t let that go to waste, man.”

And holy shit, dude. Eddie can’t leave him hanging on that confession no matter how mostly-carefree his smile stretches. Because Steve’s been in it since last fall?

Well, Eddie’s not one to easily be outdone.

“What?” Steve squints at Eddie’s face which…okay. He probably looks absurd but he’s trying really hard here, and miming isn’t easy when your muscles don’t want to get on board, yeah?

“Are you,” Steve scrunches his nose; tips his head; considers; “are you trying to,” he frowns, like he’s ready to dismiss what he’s guessing but then says fuck it and leaps:

“Are you trying to whistle?”

Yes, oh my god, sign him up for his marriage license for real, they’re meant to fucking be.

It takes Steve a second to make sense of the absurdity, and the fact that it’s only a second is a feat in itself:

“When I was a lifeguard?”

Eddie watches the timeframe, the length of admittedly varying types and depths but always constant infatuation, start to sink in and then:

“Jesus, Munson, for real?”

And lips are coming for his lips, and he’s real hopeful he can feel them this time but: no. Not yet.

But they fill his lungs up quick and full where he’s getting better which breathing by the minute, but. Any but if a boost is appreciated.

Especially from those lips, felt fully yet or not.

“That’s just because I’m gonna lift you up here in a second to crry you, and it’s gonna hurt like fuck no matter how gentle I try to be,” Steve warns him; “so breathe as slow as you can until I can lay you back down topside.”

Right. Right, because…the Upside Down was breaking apart and they’ve been here how long, fuck, they need to get a mov on…probably.

But Steve doesn’t seem concerned about anything but getting his arms around Eddie to pick him up just right, and then staring at him all star-bright bbsome more, and that’s…way more pressing, to be honest.

“But when we get there,” Steve glances behind him; “how about we look into doing that in a way that’s more spit-swapping, less rescue breathing, that cool?”

And holy fucking shit, Eddie genuinely believes right now that he could fall in love with this motherfucker, what the actual hell.

That, and he thinks he’s gonna enjoy it, to boot.

Jesus H. Christ on a goddamn cracker—

He’s looking forward to it more than the air in his fucking lungs could even hope to rank.

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @ajeff855 @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @dreamy-jeans137 @estrellami-1 @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @gunsknivesandplaid @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @kimsnooks @live-laugh-love-dietrich @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @ollyxar @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here

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[solargeist]

Can Xelqua use his powers to avoid Grian’s Eyes? I’m imagining Xelqua getting mad at Grian or Grian getting mad at him and so Xelqua runs away for a bit and Grian panics because he can’t use his Eyes to find his kid

Oooooh ! Thats a funny idea, tho i always imagine the Eyes as like... spectator mode..? So Grian would have to already sorta know where Xelqua is to find him with the Eyes. Weird eyes just zooming around the map, x-raying, night vision....

Xelqua doesn't exactly know what hes doing with his Watcher powers, a lot of it comes just from his emotions since he's so young. If he's upset enough, maybe he can block Grian's eyes with his own ? Maybe ? He definitely has more than him.

Typically when Xelqua is upset with Grian, he'll tattle to Mumbo, or any close Hermit, its usually quite childish !

Grian has gotten really good at not getting mad at Xelqua--at least not showing it. This was different in the beginning of course, before he adjusted. Back in season 9 he'd often get annoyed with him and overwhelmed then. Which... I think could be a fun turning point in their dynamic.. Grian and Xelqua getting mad at each other, Grians exhausted and just not in the mood to go play outside or whatever, he snaps and uses the Good Ole "Because I said so !" argument towards Xelqua. Xelqua stomps his little feet and goes off to pout while Grian sighs heavily in a chair, he does feel way over his head, he really has a kid now ? He's practically still one himself ! Sorta, it feels like it sometimes.

Xelqua would gather courage while he's pouting, Grian doesn't ever let him go out, its not fair, he's always busy and rarely funny. Xelqua quietly goes out the door as soon as he hears Grian go to the bathroom or something.

Xelqua is not quick, he has tiny legs, he doesn't make much of a distant, but he's small, so he disappears quickly behind or under things.

Grian's panic is amplified by his Watcher instincts, losing sight of something--of a child--its a suffocating feeling, no matter how he felt moments ago. His little house in s9 is surrounded by water, he hates using Watcher magic, but theres no choice here, little purple eyes shoot out in every direction as his mind imagines the worst possible outcomes. Xelqua immediately catches the feeling of Eyes and its scary ! So against his own will, his own Eyes block Grian's. (Which doesn't help Grian's panic at all) Xelqua's instincts will always protect him, he's small, he's 5 years old, but the Watcher part of his brain is still watching out for him. Even though Grian is no threat to him, the Eyes feel scary, so they have to be blocked.

When Grian finally spots Xelqua, he uses his wings to propel himself forward to scoop Xelqua up. Xelqua barely has time to react. Grian lands a few steps ahead, still frazzled and holding Xelqua in his hands, his worry pours out mistakenly as anger. Where have you been ? Don't you know how dangerous it is here ? Grian realizes he's accidentally shouting and bites his tongue. He lets go of Xelqua and hugs him instead, which is probably the first time he's held him so tightly before while on the ground. Xelqua doesn't really know how to react to this, he thought he was in trouble, but ..? A little confusing !

Xelqua had probably JUST found a Hermit too, who was patiently and politely trying to get him to stay still while they contacted Grian. They can tell from Grian's reaction that Xelqua was definitely lying and did not get permission to walk around by himself (what a surprise)

Seeing Grian so stressed out probably pushes a few Hermits to ~gently remind Grian that hey.... you know you can always text us when you need help with him... any time !! any ! time !

Its a turning point for their dynamic, and a learning experience for both

[obito-in-disguise]

| Avoiding their touch |

Pranking male Naruto characters by avoiding their touch.

Uchiha Sasuke

At first, Sasuke ignores your strange behavior. If you wanted to be weird, that was your headache, not his.

But when you sidestep him during a mission as he reaches out to steady you after a jump, his eyes narrow.

"What's your problem?" he asks, deadpan, stepping closer and reaching out for you again.

You shrug innocently, dodging his touch once more. His jaw tightens, and he retracts his hand.

Sasuke is surprisingly patient after that. But after you dodge his touch a third time, that patience snaps. Determined to keep up the charade, you move to avoid his arm when he tries to protect you again.

"Whatever" did you seriously think he had a problem with not touching you?

He doesn't even bother with words anymore. Playing along with your game, he grabs the back of your shirt and effortlessly flings you out of harm's way.

"Hey!"

"You wanna play games? Fine," he mutters, completely unfazed by your wide-eyed glare.

For the rest of the day, Sasuke avoids your touch, despite your whining and apologies. This was your punishment for playing silly games with him.

Uzumaki Naruto

"huh??"

You must be tripping, Naruto thinks, watching you duck when he tries to pull you into one of his bone-crushing hugs.

Naruto is all about physical affection, high fives, random hugs, scooping you up into his arms. So when you dodge his hug, his jaw drops.

The look on his face is too ridiculous, you can't stop yourself from bursting into laughter at his utter shock of your audacity.

"You're so dramatic" you roll your eyes, pulling him into a hug as an apology.

Naruto grins and returns the hug twice as hard, lifting you off the ground for good measure. Ignoring your squeals of embarrassment, he parades through the village with you still awkwardly dangling in his arms as punishment.

"Put me down Naruto! You're so embarrassing!"

Aburame Shino

Shino is flabbergasted, to say the least. You never avoided his touch, and he loved that because you were the only person he was comfortable being affectionate with anyway.

His eye twitches, but his shoulders eventually sag in relief when he sees you struggling to contain your laughter. You were just playing a silly prank after all, thank goodness.

He discreetly releases a meliponine bee from his jacket sleeve, the little creature was harmless and couldn't sting, but you didn't need to know that.

The moment you spot it, your eyes widen.

"SHINO, ONE OF YOUR BEES ESCAPED!"

Shrieking, you leap into his arms. His lips stretch into a smug smirk as he catches you.

"Oh? What's this? I thought you didn't want me to touch you?"

You narrow your eyes, quickly connecting the dots. Jumping out of his arms, you smack his shoulder lightly.

"Touché"

Hyuga Neji

Neji was pretty much sick of your shit at this point, you've been on a pranking streak all week and it put him on edge.

Now he questions every little reaction from you, wondering if it was a prank or not.

Even now, he stood watching you, his posture stiff, an irritated glare on his face.

"Stop testing my patience y/n."

He grits out, reaching for you again, watching you move out of the way.

"Have I...have I done anything to upset you?"

he asks, voice shaky, exhaustion creeping in. He was afraid this time you weren't joking and he might've actually upset you.

You immediately drop the act, not liking the kicked puppy dog look on his face one bit.

"I'm sorry baby, I was just messing around" you tug him into a hug to which he returns with a glare, ultimately glad this wasn't anything serious.

He reaches down to flick your forehead.

"Ow!"

"You're an idiot. Quit it with the silly games ok?" he murmurs gently brushing his fingers over the spot he flicked.

"Ok ok"

Uchiha Itachi

Itachi chuckles, watching you sidestep his hug. He immediately knew you were playing games, no one craved his touch more than you did.

"Are you sure you want to do that? I'm leaving for a mission and won't be back till tomorrow"

You bite your lip, weighing your options. He was right, 24hrs was way too long to go without a hug.

You huff, shuffling into his still open arms with defeat. "Fine, I yield"

He laughs again, giving you a soft squeeze before pulling away.

"I'll see you in a couple hours" he says, placing a kiss on your hair before pulling away.

"See y- wait what! You said tomorrow"

"I lied" he calls out, smiling casually, like he didn't just decieve you, continuing down the path without looking back.

You can't help but chuckle at his cuningness, you were so going to get him back when he returns though.

Uchiha Obito

"Well aren't you a picture of domesticity" Obito muses, watching you make coffee in one of his button downs, the shirt large on you.

He can't help himself, he reaches out to feel your soft skin only to be met with air when you move out of the way, giving him a strange look.

If he paid more attention, he would've noticed the look on your face was you struggling to hold in your laughter, but his stomach was too busy dropping to his feet.

Obito was insecure, about his face, about his body, and his past. Despite your reassurances, a part of him never believed he was what you wanted.

He was chronically paranoid that one day you'd realize you could have better, and leave him.

It didn't take you too long to figure out what was going through his head when he froze, staring at you like a deer in headlights.

"Shit, this was a terrible idea" you immediately grab his hands, placing one on your cheek and the other on your waist "I'm sorry, I was just messing around"

He stares down at you for a few seconds gauging your sincerity before sighing, his body untensing in relief.

"You're a menace..." his arms snake around you, pulling you into his chest, happy this was just a joke.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry"

Hatake Kakashi

Kakashi notices but doesn't react right away. Instead, he silently joins your game.

Every time he sees you coming he makes a point to dramatically avoid touching you even by a hair's breath, dramatically bending and contorting his body into all sorts of shapes.

"You're terrible" you giggle, trying to grab him, watching him dodge your hands like his life depended on it.

"me? You're the one who started it"

he finally relents, letting you tug him into your arms.

"You could've seriously hurt my feelings you know? I'm sensitive"

You snort, Kakashi didn't give a shit and you both knew it.

You lean up, tugging his mask down to peck is nose as an apology "You're about as sensitive as that rock over there"

He chuckles, deciding to let your snark go, he won after all, you wouldn't be avoiding his touch again.

I just realized I've never done headcannons for the naruto characters at once, so enjoy!

Feel free to check out my other Naruto Shippuden fics and more stories!

Tiny taglist🥲: @catlover19282

[awyeahitssam]

Travelling back in time is an accident. Harry isn't going to waste it.

Harry glances at the calendar and grimaces. He can't go to Knockturn today. Hogwarts just let out for Summer holidays, and he's already decided to avoid the alleys until school term starts. Just in case... well. Just in case.

He never thought there would come a day that he missed Voldemort's soul pressing alongside his own, but it would make things simpler. If he could peer into Voldemort's mind, he wouldn't have to go about things the old fashioned way. As it is, one of his spies is twenty minutes late, and he can't snatch him from work on the off chance that children are wondering around places they shouldn't be.

Burke's still alive, at least. Harry would feel his death.

It does nothing for his current situation. There will be an attack today. 3 July, 1973 was significant. The day Voldemort's attacks went from targeting the Knights of Walpurgis' political opponents to involving the public.

He just can't remember where.

He knows this. He knows he does. But the time magic takes knowledge, seemingly at random, until he's left with bits of the puzzle. Harry knows Voldemort's broken his soul into pieces, but he no longer remembers what those pieces are called. He doesn't know what they're contained in, either, except one: Slytherin's locket.

Harry really needs to get a move on with this whole defeating Voldemort early thing before he forgets who he is. Forgets why he needs to.

He takes a deep breath. There's nothing for it. Diagon and Hogsmeade are the most obvious places to stage a first attack. Diagon is the more dramatic option, though Hogsmeade would strike fear, especially just a day after the children have left the station. Which one...

Fuck. He's got no time for guessing games, for hoping he knows Voldemort well enough to predict him. The Voldemort of this time is more politically minded than the one Harry defeated, and he's losing information by the day. Who knows how much he's forgotten about his Voldemort.

He needs Burke. He needs the bloody information.

Snape would be home, wouldn't he? His mother's still alive. There was no chance Lily Evans would be sulking about Knockturn. And the Marauders? No...

It should be safe enough.

It's a risk. If he sees one of them, he's going to screw up spectacularly. He has to steer clear.

Too bad he's still got a saving people thing.

He twists through the wards and lands at the apparition point. A moment later, the screaming starts.

Turns out he doesn't need his spy for this after all.

He runs towards the shouts, wand at the ready.

He puts it to good use.

"Evans?" Charlus calls out. "Is that you?"

Harry grimaces and keeps walking. Ever since he saved Charlus's baby brother in the Dark sects first Diagon Alley attack, Charlus Potter has been dogging his steps. The very last thing he wants is the be associated with this family. He already only manages to avoid being labeled a Potter by virtue of using the Sleekeazy's hair potions to settle the characteristic chaos of his hair.

If anyone can recognise its use, it is the inventor. Charlus dared to call him "cousin," before Harry sharply corrected him. He hasn't tried since, but he still has that gleam in his eyes. That set to his jaw.

The famous Potter stubbornness. Harry would be warmed by the fact that it exists outside of himself (and he is, truly, because even if he will never claim them as such, he has family here), but it's causing issues.

"Is that him, darling?" Another voice rings out, clear and lovely. Harry keeps moving along, heedless.

"Yes love, that's our errant Potter-"

Harry spins with a snarl. "I told you," he says, stepping forward to stab his wand into Charlus' chest, the threat bald, "my name is Evans. I want nothing to do with you or your family. I'm a muggleborn, for Merlin's sake."

The woman beside Charlus looks at Harry with wide grey eyes. Aside from their shade, she looks a great deal like Bellatrix LeStrange one day will. Her hair is carefully controlled, brown rather than black, and she's dressed conservatively, as is appropriate for the time period, but. She's certainly a Black.

"Are you quite sure he's yours, darling?" she near-purrs, meeting Harry's burning gaze with a fire of her own. Like recognises like. Black madness sparks in them both.

It has to be Dorea Black. Her arm is linked with Charlus', and she calls him darling. His grandmother.

He turns on his heel and flees.

Pretends the lump in his throat is from fear instead of longing.

Voldemort's yew wand twirls through his fingers as he considers the man on his knees.

Octavian Nott has always been reliable, yet...

"Are you the only one alive?"

Nott's shoulders draw tight.

"No, Vo-" Voldemort presses his magic around the proud little pureblood who dares think to say his name after he's failed. As if he's earned the privilege. "My Lord."

"And where are the others, Octavian?"

"I don't know, My Lord," Nott tells the ground. It's clear from his inflection that his teeth are gritted.

"Oh?"

"The... the vigilante put something around each of their necks. Portkeys. He said the activation phrase when I was the only one left. They... vanished."

Voldemort's methodical movements pause. The mysterious new player on the board has kidnapped his soldiers?

Well. It was an effective tactic, to be sure, but why not simply kill them? Was it weakness, or strategy?

He couldn't help but assume it was the latter. The man - and he was that from the many memory's Voldemort's stolen, though he remains cloaked - was always a move ahead. He met Voldemort's attacks each time.

It was exhilarating. Infuriating, too. The only way his every move could be so neatly countered was a spy. Yet even after he began limiting plans to his Inner Circle, the Knights, this man still knew what he would do...

"What else?" he presses, impatience growing.

"He knocked out five men with a single stunner. It... it seemed to split, my Lord, midcast. And..."

Nott truly is testing his leniency tonight. "You will not like what happens if I have need to prompt you again, Octavian."

A shudder. How positively plebian. "I apologise, My Lord. I simply do not wish to give you incorrect information."

"It just... sounded as though the portkey passphrase was in parseltongue."

Voldemort stares down at his head. Nott's been with him for a very long time. He knows what parseltongue sounds like.

Still, Voldemort must be sure.

"Look at me."

The man does speak parseltongue.

The words "fuck you" spill prettily past concealed lips.

Voldemort obsesses.

The more he learns, the more his fascination grows.

The man performs feats of magic that surprise and delight. Simple things, weaponised. Magical control the likes of which Voldemort has rarely sought to achieve. From fiendfyre, yes, but basic spellwork...

He tries to split a stunning spell. He can still only manage three branches, and they're difficult to aim.

Voldemort keeps trying.

Keeps hunting, too.

The first time he meets him on a battlefield, Voldemort shreds the spell that normally hides his vigilante. The haze cloaking features fractures.

His eyes are unforgivably green. Voldemort almost wishes he would cast the killing curse, just to see how the shade compares side by side.

Victory. He hadn't even had to fight for the other's identity. He tells himself it isn't a disappointment. He can feel the magic this man radiates. Lord Voldemort does not need to be convinced he isn't weak.

He dips his head politely, never letting his eyes stray from that brilliant shade. "Lord Voldemort," he introduces.

One beat.

Two.

Manners, he thinks mildly.

"Harry Evans," his opponent rasps out. It sounds like he hasn't talked to anybody in some time. Voldemort notes the name. Muggleborn, perhaps? Or a half-blood, like him?

Voldemort is hungry to know more. He licks his lips. Bright eyes dart to the motion, then rise back to meet his. A silly mistake. Voldemort tears into his mind.

Or, he tries to.

Blankness meets him. Not fog. Not a wall. Nothingness.

After some heavy-handed prodding, Voldemort pulls back before he is lost in the abyss.

An occlumens as well, then.

He ducks a blasting curse shot at his head.

Time to play.

Thing is, as much as Voldemort likes to play with his food, he's always been a thief at heart.

He wants to steal this man - this Harry Evans - more than he wants to break him.

He leaves with wounds his healer must tend to. They require dittany not to scar. He accepts it for the two large, arched marks. The small one, though - a knife wound, of all things - he keeps. He can rid himself of it later.

For now, though, he has something to press when he thinks of Harry.

Besides, he's not the only one to have left with marks. If Harry is smart, he will bear his well. If not... well, Lord Voldemort is generous. He can always give him more.

His men have standing orders to flee when they see him. He's still down seventeen fighters, stolen by Harry. The next time they dare to linger, he gets three more.

It's annoying to have his pawns taken. Especially because he does not know why.

Harry could ransom them to their rich families. Could try and use them as leverage over Voldemort. Could even just kill them: but he doesn't. Voldemort can tell that much from the Dark Mark. The fact he can't communicate with them or plot their locations is interesting. Unsettling, too. The magic of his mark, circumvented.

It's been a long time since he has gotten stuck on a puzzle.

He thrills at the challenge.

He next sees Harry in his human skin. The other is in Knockturn, just coming out of a shop.

How rare. He's not often spotted in public unless he's dismantling Voldemort's plans.

"Hello," he greets politely. Those green eyes slant over to him, then catch. Like he recognises Lord Voldemort even in this pitiful mask. A part of him delights at the notion, even as he double checks his magic. It remains tucked tight to his body.

"Hello," Harry breathes back.

Voldemort barely suppresses a frown. Is the other attracted to him like this? A pity. He wouldn't think Harry one to fall for a pretty face.

Still, it could prove useful... imagine what information he could pull on a date...

Green eyes trace his features intently. Voldemort is no longer used to being examined in such a way. And then-

Then Harry's magic lashes out at him without the aid of a wand, and the glamour is ripped from Voldemort's skin. He hisses in discomfort at the sensation, taking a step forward and pressing long nails to Harry's throat.

Fingers catch around his wrist before he can make contact. Somehow, Harry is strong enough to hold him in place. Strengthening rituals rendered void. Just what was this man?

The hold does nothing to stop Voldemort from stepping into him. From leaning close to his ear once they're chest to chest and hissing, low in threat, "That was rude, Harry."

The chest pressed to his moves. A laugh trembles out of Harry's throat. He sounds a touch mad. Just look what Voldemort's reduced him to...

"Sorry," he lies. "Were you doing some shopping?"

"No."

Harry hums, disbelieving. Voldemort licks his lips and stares at the neck his fingers have been denied. He wonders how much blood he can draw with a bite before Harry manages to escape.

Harry has a habit of vanishing all the marks he gives him. Such an ungrateful creature.

If given half a chance, Voldemort will bite a collar around his throat.

Harry can't breathe.

He doesn't know how it's come to this. He doesn't understand.

Voldemort's mouth is hot and urgent against his. Nails dig into his hip and back. One of Harry's hands is angling Voldemort's chin.

Voldemort lets him. Tips into his touch. Darts a tongue out to taste him.

He shivers.

Isn't he meant to be destroying Voldemort?

A wicked thought catches in his mind.

Can I destroy Voldemort like this?

Long, powerful fingers trace a burning path up his thigh.

Undo him with my touch?

He takes Voldemort in hand.

Unmake him with my mouth?

Slots teeth against his neck when Voldemort jerks. Scrapes them down when the Dark Lord shudders.

Well. It's not a plan he's thought up, before, but-

It's worth a try, isn't it?

au where auror harry potter ends up in the marauders time period, right by the beginning of voldemort’s rise.

harry potter who avoids hogwarts by all means (the memories are too painful) and instead tries to take down voldemort and his death eaters by himself.

harry who drops his last name in favor of the common muggle last name “evans” to completely separate any ties to the potters (for their sakes.)

harry evans who keeps his distance from his mom, the marauders, and snape because he knows if he sees them he’s going to ruin something.

instead, harry evans catches the attention of the potter family (who is convinced he is a long lost heir), the blacks (who start to suspect he is a new up and coming darm lord), dumbledore (who believes the same), and the dark lord himself (who is intrigued by this mysteriously strong man thwarting his every move.)

i timetravelled to when my parents were still kids to destroy the dark lord but i became his lover instead!?

[trashytracktales]

"His ego comes from... other places. But that’s a different conversation ;)" let's start this conversation love!! please?☺️

regarding the whole house being filled with his memorobilia i think it's just because that he lives alone I belive if he had somone living with him or involved in his life - aka ME - he'll be more than happy if they offered to redecorate or even orgnize the space to be less overwhelming ! still how can i be bothered whe he is right there! ( realistically speaking, I might at some point but as I mentioned earlier that am more than happy to put my interior design skills which are 0 to none into action) 😌

sorrry for the ramble

Rambling is allowed, dear anon 🤍. This is a safe yapping space, and since you asked...

*clears throat* AHEM.

First, there’s the obvious: man is loaded. Not just comfortable rich, but rich enough that he can basically do whatever the fuck he wants, whenever the fuck he wants. In my eyes, it’s the least impressive thing about Lando, but I had to mention his money, because I do think it’s relevant for this topic *shrugs*.

Now, how I see it, he gotta be loaded in other areas too, because he walks around like a man who has never once received negative feedback. Judging by the absolute lack of hesitation when he makes borderline inappropriate sex jokes, that’s not just confidence. That’s a man who’s been praised too many times; so often it became a core belief.

So yeah, I am a firm believer that Lando’s ego comes from knowing that no one has ever walked away unsatisfied.

BONUS

Being told you’re a prodigy since childhood does something to a man.

He won a few races against a 4 time World Champion last season.

The TL thirsts over him daily. He knows.

The way older women love him; he is aware he could pull moms if he wanted to.

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