#( prompts. )┊pick and choose your path.

[belovedblossoms-m]

Ignore, just reposting some tags since tumblr freaking ate a good chunk of them...

[bblovetarot]

{༉} What is your soul craving?

ʚ ═══･୨ꕤ୧･═══ ɞ Pick a Pile ʚ ═══･୨ꕤ୧･═══ ɞ 

. ༄ . paid readings . ༄

。°⚠︎°。follow your intuition when choosing a pile. if you're drawn to more than one pile, that's okay! you may have messages in more than one.

。°⚠︎°。tarot readings are not 100% accurate, and do not dictate your future. please keep in mind that you have free will. these readings are also general and aren't specific to one person, so please take what resonates and leave what doesn't! 

Pile 1

Pile 1, your soul is urging you to stop blocking your own path. There's a message echoing to "do the right thing," and this could mean various things for everyone. It suggests a need to ease up on self-criticism and avoid placing blame externally. Taking accountability for your actions is crucial, recognizing that every choice has consequences, whether positive or negative. Your soul craves for you to take a leap of faith, listen to the deep call within your heart, and follow your intuition when making decisions. It seeks novelty and growth, urging you to break free from repetitive cycles by making conscious choices. Look at yourself objectively and understand that while past hurtful events may not be your fault, you do have the power of free will. Reflect on where your free will comes into play in your life and how you can avoid situations that leave you feeling wronged. Your soul sees these experiences as lessons, prompting you to learn from them and apply those lessons to start a new beginning. Embrace change, let go of the old, and welcome the new. Now is the time to align with your true path, one that excites and possibly scares you—a path leading to genuine happiness. Start doing what makes you happy, whether it's learning something new or pursuing a business idea. The path to your true calling is already laid out; all you need to do is accept the call, Pile 1.

Pile 2

Pile 2, it seems that many of you are undergoing a spiritual awakening, but there's resistance to embracing the new path that's calling you. Your soul is urging you to surrender to this transformative process, releasing old belief systems that no longer serve you. This period is a rebirth for you, and while it can be intimidating, your soul is encouraging you to flow with it rather than resist. Fear of the unknown may be holding you back, unsure if you're ready for what's to come. However, your soul is asking you to let go, to allow the universe to guide you through this transition. Surrender control and trust the process, Pile 2. For many of you, overthinking and wanting to predict outcomes can be a common tendency. Your soul is calling for a more relaxed approach and a return to the joy of your inner child. Life doesn't always require serious contemplation; sometimes, you just need to live. Your soul is craving for more fun and playfulness. It wants you to listen to its subtle whispers, guiding you to the path that's right for you. Don't take life too seriously; let go of the need to know every outcome in advance. As changes occur and things leave your life, your soul advises you not to get too caught up in the departing elements. Take them for what they are and embrace the new opportunities that are emerging. Transformation can be scary because it's uncertain, but just like a little bird learning to fly, it might be scary at first, but it leads to growth and freedom. Embrace the new, Pile 2.

Pile 3

Pile 3, your soul is urging you to surround yourself with things, people, and situations that align with your true happiness. It seems like you may be caught in a routine, and the joy in life has diminished for some of you. Perhaps something you've longed for has arrived, but its unfolding isn't bringing the happiness you expected. Some of you might be feeling frustrated with the slow progress, even though there is movement, albeit at a pace slower than desired. You appear to be someone deeply committed to your pursuits, taking a steady rather than rushed approach. Your soul encourages you to stay true to yourself and not let others dictate your actions or methods. What matters is what you believe and envision for yourself. Many of you are dedicated to something significant, and your soul is advising you to clear out anything that doesn't belong in your life right now—habits or people that don't align with your path. It's crucial to eliminate anything that drains you emotionally and doesn't bring motivation, inspiration, or happiness into your life. Your soul wants you to protect yourself and reclaim your energy from past situations that may have left scars. If you're dealing with complex post-traumatic stress disorder (CPTSD) or flashbacks from the past, there's a need to prioritize healing. Don't let the past dictate your future. Your soul is also emphasizing the importance of connecting with others. Stop isolating yourself and reach out to new people or those already in your life who resonate with you. Enjoy the small things in life, and don't let the past repeat itself. The universe is supporting you, bringing you to people who are part of your soul tribe. Take that first step, whether big or small, and trust that the universe has your back, Pile 3.

[grandlinedreams]

I forgot you had that list of prompts!! Could I please please pleeeaaase request 71 Law x reader? “I’ve never seen this man before.”

Maybe like Law pisses them off and they pretend to not know him? 🥺

ofc!! I need to figure out my tagging system 'n make stuff like that easier to find when it gets buried but also I gotta get my masterlist put together at all wlkjadf but YES i live for that kind of trope as long as it's not like,,,an indicator of bigger issues bc communication is key in relationships my friends!!

[heads up!: both reader and Law are a touch of orange flag behavior, touch of angst]

"How long are you going to stay mad at Captain?"

"I don't know, Bepo." The mink looks far from reassured by your answer, eyes flicking nervously over your shoulder and then back. You don't have to turn around to know Law is staring at the pair of you, the weight of his gaze square on the back of your head. "Did he tell you to come over here and ask?"

Bepo flinches, squirming nervously. You know he doesn't want to be caught in another of your spats ㅡ though they rarely happen, it's hard to keep your crew out of them when you're all typically confined in such a finite space.

There's a lot that anger dictates you say ㅡ that it's childish of Law to make Bepo come over here to ask instead, to try and wheedle his way into getting you to apologize first because he knows there's not much you hate more than upsetting Bepo and that it's not fair to the mink to make him choose between picking sides or playing mediator.

"Are you mad at me too?" Bepo's question pulls you out of your thoughts and you shake your head, expression softening.

"Of course not, I could never be angry with you." Again, you have to bite your tongue not to add more that'd further the distinct air of a pair of parents at odds with each other. "You can go back to Law, if you want."

Bepo still looks uneasy, but he slides off his seat and moves back towards where Law is sitting with Shachi and Penguin. Even though you know that you shouldn't assume, you don't blame them for taking his side. After all, they've known him longer, been through more with him, he means more to them.

But you? Even though you know they don't see you as such, you're temporary. The crew won't fall apart without you. You can leave and while it'll hurt for a while, they'll get over it.

You've never once feared that Law would demand you leave, but the fury in his eyes during your argument makes you reconsider it. Maybe you'd finally gone too far, and he's finally truly tired of having you around.

The idea of leaving the vessel that's been your home for the last handful of years and the people who have become your family makes your chest ache and your eyes burn with the threat of tears. You don't want to leave.

Lost in your your thoughts and the spiral that your mind threatens to tumble into, the hard clink of glass against the counter makes you jolt. Looking up at the bartender, you watch him jerk his head. "From that gentleman. You know him?"

The drink in front of you is your favorite. Normally you'd be touched that Law remembers such an obscure detail you've only ever mentioned off-handedly, but right now it feels like a slap to the face. Law is still trying everything he can but talking to you.

"I don't know that man at all," you tell the bartender flatly, handing over a couple of berri for your already finished drink and get to your feet. The path you take is intentional as you stalk past your crewmates' table, giving Law a look of icy fury before you continue on.

"You know Captain," Penguin suggests tentatively, "you could always just apologize. [Name] looked super pissed."

Law scowls. "More like being stubborn," he huffs, but guilt still pools in his stomach as he glances at the untouched drink on the counter. It feels like a cheap attempt at forgiveness the more he thinks about it, and he groans. "Fine, fine. I trust you can find your way back on your own?"

"We've got it, don't worry!"

Law gets to his feet, dropping off the appropriate berri for his drink as well before he moves off in the direction that you'd gone. The Polar Tang is quiet by the time he reaches it, lights dimmed for nightfall ㅡ and he slows his pace as he approaches his room.

What is he going to say? He knows he should apologize, but so should you ㅡ you've always had an innate talent for getting under his skin, something that he both loves and hates for how easily you do it. And while fights are truly something few and far between, this last one has left a bad taste in his mouth that only worsens the longer he lets it go.

Exhaling, he reaches for the handle. Part of him expected it to be locked ㅡ but it isn't, and his gaze flicks to you as soon as he walks in. Your back is to him, blanket pulled to your ear ㅡ but he knows the various rhythms of your breathing well enough to know you're not asleep.

He doesn't talk right away, busies himself with getting ready for bed as well before settling behind you and resisting the urge to roll his eyes when you scoot further from him. "Can we talk?"

"I guess." Your tone is clipped, and Law frowns as he reaches for you, hand on your arm.

"Are you going to look at me?"

"No."

Sighing, Law waits a moment before he begins tracing idle shapes against your arm, trying to soothe some of your anger. He knows you well, the way you can never quite stop yourself from leaning into him just a little bit, no matter how upset you are. "...this got out of hand."

You snort. "An understatement," you answer, but you lean a little further into him, and he takes it as a good sign.

"We both said things we didn't mean, and I wanted to apologize for how I talked to you." Law pauses. "And for sending Bepo to talk for me. And the drink."

"I would have drank it, but it felt like a cop out." You roll to face him properly now, and Law hates that he can see the red tinge around your eyes that always means you've been crying. "I'm sorry too, I shouldn't have said any of that either. But you need to talk to me Law, you can't just shut me out because you don't want to be a bother."

"I know." It's easier said than done, but you're patient. He knows that, knows that because you've told him time and time again that there isn't anything that will make you love him any less, either from his past or in the future. ("You're stuck with me," you like to say proudly, and he's never heard better sounding words than that.) "I'll keep working on it."

"We can work on it together," you answer as you press closer and he finally, finally gets to hold you the way he's wanted to since you stormed off after the argument. "We're a team, you and I. You're stuck with me until you don't want me anymore."

Law stills for a moment and then wraps his arms around you, tucking his face into your neck. "Forever," he mumbles. "That's how long I want you. Is that okay?"

You shift against him just enough to press your hand against the back of his head, fingers brushing soft, dark hair. "That sounds perfect to me."

[claymoresword]

I Choose Her | Stand-Alone Series Chapter: 1

Hermione Granger x Slytherin Fem!Reader

Prompt: Hermione gets jealous as she catches you flirting with someone else, but it ends in a heartfelt exchange between the two of you.

Wordcount: 1.6k

Warnings: romilda vane gets rejected like canon, y/n & hermione are soulmates its confirmed, no plot just fluff

Note: a little something to tide you guys over while i work on the final chapter. hope you enjoy! <3

Taglist: @gvrsto @aweidlich @xxsekhmet @arielj @poppyflower-22 @scarleigh1989 @smut-religiously777 @cocoyeehaw @blackbirdv98 @arcturusseer @iamcapitalgbicorn8287 @lonewalker17 @karasonromanoff @httphayn @bigbadsofty07 @cherryflavoredcoke @dumpsapphic @idontwannabehereatm @js-a-writer @baylegend6 @puta1 @t-wylia @raven-ss @unexpected-character @aki-ham @brocoliisscared

You harshly shove the Hufflepuff seeker out of the way, he doesn't budge, not until you shoulder him again. This time it unsteadies his broom, in an effort to not lose his balance, he falls back, leaving you alone in pursuit of the Golden Snitch.

You manage to locate the snitch once more, the golden ball just a few paces out of reach, as you extend your hand, you can feel its wing fluttering violently against your fingertips As you attempt to grab it, the flying ball quickly changes course trying to evade you, but you still manage to follow closely behind.

"Come on." You mutter under your breath, you are so close, the ball is practically yours.

Coincidentally, a large gust of wind graces your flight path at just the right moment. You take full advantage of it, picking up a bit of momentum, just enough to trap the Golden Snitch in your grasp.

You then whisk yourself around on the broom to face the stands, stubbornly the Snitch tries to wriggle free, but you hold it firmly still.

A large roar erupts from the audience as you hold up your prize for all to see. They were cheering for you.

The sound is exhilarating, intoxicating. It makes you feel invisible– but there was only one person's cheer worth taking notice.

In a sea of Gryffindors, you find Hermione's gaze. Your grin widens, and she smiles right back at you.

Soon enough an involuntarily blush covers your cheeks, and you are forced to look away.

"Y/n has caught the Golden Snitch. Slytherin wins!"

═══════════════════════════════════════════

The celebration continues well into the evening in the Slytherin common room. Students from all houses fill the space, taking advantage of the unlimited amounts of liquor and butter beer available.

Crabbe and Blaise insist on parading you on their shoulders for the dozenth time tonight, it seems the more intoxicated they get, the harder they find the task of leaving you alone.

“Y/n!, Y/n!, Y/n!” The crowd continues to chant beneath you, and you can only allow yourself to enjoy the moment. Even though the incessant attention from everyone tonight was starting to peeve you slightly.

The only person you wanted to spend time with tonight is Hermione– yet she is nowhere to be found.

“Alright, put me down guys.” You raise your voice over the commotion, and your friends finally oblige, taking you off their shoulders, you let out a breath of relief once your feet touch flat ground.

“If you keep it up, Y/n, we'll win all the games this season.” Pansy claims, her voice closer to a shout.

You merely give her a nod, taking her words for a compliment and nothing more. Deliberately ignoring the sudden sense of crippling responsibility that's been set upon you.

You find yourself looking through the crowd once more, hoping to spot a familiar brown-eyed beauty.

Where is she?

You push through the sea of students, a few of them continue hurling praises at you and taking the opportunity to squeeze your shoulder as a version of acclamation.

By the time you reach the large window by the far side of the room, you are out of breath.

The spot you've escaped to is somewhat secluded, so you are given a chance to gain your bearings, as you silently observe the view of the black lake.

That is, until someone unwelcomed enters your space.

“You were amazing on the pitch today–” Romilda Vane says, standing an inch too close.

You catch a whiff of alcohol on her breath, and your effort to distance yourself fails as she merely sees it as an opportunity to step closer.

“Thanks, Romilda. I didn't realize you liked Quidditch.” You state dismissively, before scanning your surroundings again, for any indication of Hermione.

“I don't, not really..” She replies, and a bold hand on your shoulder snatches your attention once more.

“I like watching you though.” Romilda says, inching even closer, you watch as her gaze manages to find your lips for a moment.

Normally, you'd entertain such a blatant attempt at flirting, especially from someone so attractive– but tonight, you couldn't care less.

Hermione is the only girl you want complimenting you.

Romilda proceeds to brazenly caress your bicep, she gasps slightly after giving your firm muscle a squeeze.

“I bet you could easily lift me.” She remarks suggestively, and you let out a dismissive scoff, but this only urges her to continue eyeing you hungrily– a mere object she'd like to toy with.

“Perhaps we could find out–” You suggest, but immediately regret your effort in humoring her.

Romilda mistakes your words as an invitation. She leans in to meet your lips and you quickly swerve out of the way.

“Some other time.” You quip, subsequently catching sight of a familiar face in the distance You don't even bother letting Romilda down easily before chasing after her.

-

“Hermione!” You call out, but the Gryffindor is making it quickly through the crowd. It seemed shouting her name only motivated her to walk further away.

You finally catch up to her in the gallery, outside the common room, the door soon shuts behind you, and the two of you are left alone.

“Hey, slow down–” You say, finally grabbing hold of Hermione’s arm.

“Where are you going?” You ask, but when she turns to look at you, her hardened expression takes you aback.

“Are you alright?” Your ask of real concern is only met with an eye-roll. Hermione groans in frustration as she tries to wrench out of your hold.

“Let me go–” She asks sternly, and you do just that, but her demeanor continues to unnerve you. You could never bear it whenever she was upset with you.

Whatever it is, you plan to rectify it now.

“Hermione..” You coax gently, and the Gryffindor no longer makes the effort to walk away from you, instead she leans against the stone wall, her gaze fixed towards the ground.

You stuff your hands into your pockets as you made the conscious effort to not reach out for her again.

“You know you can talk to me– tell me what's wrong, darling. Was it something I did?” You try once more, and finally, she graces you with a lingering glance.

"Why are you with me? You could have any girl in the school.. anyone you wanted. So why me?” Hermione asks, the faint tremor in her voice breaks you, but you can't help the incredulous look that paints your features.

“Are you really asking me that?” You ask flippantly.

Your carelessness only makes visible tears well up in Hermione's eyes, and you immediately regret opening your mouth.

“Oh– no, I'm sorry. Come here.” You remark frantically, pulling Hermione closer by the waist, and she accepts your embrace.

“I'm sorry.” You repeat earnestly. She buries her face in the crook of your neck, despite herself.

“You have no idea how much you mean to me, do you?” You mutter, as you take in the scent of her hair.

Hermione pulls back to look at you expectantly, and you don't fight the urge to hold her face in both your hands, leaning in to kiss her deeply.

“I think you're brilliant.” You admit as your lips remain less than an inch apart.

“Really?” Hermione breathes out, and you can only smile.

“Yes.” You claim before tilting your head to kiss her jaw. “Being with you.. it's like a dream.” You continue, relishing at the feeling of Hermione shifting closer to feel more of you.

“A dream I never want to wake from.” You utter directly into her ear, before placing a kiss against it.

Hermione shudders in delight, her hand slips up your chest to the collar of your shirt, she clutches it, at an effort to steady herself.

You proceed to kiss her neck, and amidst a series of soft moans, Hermione utters something far more incriminating.

“I love you..” She says breathlessly, almost too soft to be real.

You feel her tense up as you halted the string of kisses you were leaving upon her skin, trying to process what you just heard.

“What did you just say?” You ask, pulling away so you could trap Hermione's gaze.

The evident blush upon her cheeks only causes your grin to widen.

“Nothing, I–” Hermione stutters, and you decide to help refresh her memory.

“You love me?” You ask, hopeful that she wouldn't deny it.

“Yes. Maybe.. I don't know.” She averts her eyes, and you have to bite your lip to stop from smiling too wide.

“Well, that's a relief. because I think, maybe, I love you too.” You respond, tucking a strand of hair behind Hermione's ear, and this makes her look at you again.

“Wait– you do?” Hermione asks, her manner ever unassuming. She is perfect, and she loves you.

“I love you like a madman.” You admit plainly, and her chuckle causes your heart to flutter violently in your chest. “Sometimes it feels like I can hardly do anything else besides love you.”

Hermione's expression visibly softens at your admittance, she leans in to kiss you again, you gladly welcome the sensation of her tongue entering your mouth.

“You make me feel things that I don't even understand sometimes.. but I just know that, I seem to never want to be away from you.”

Hermione utters after separating her lips from your own, her hand moves to the nape of your neck, and the other runs through your hair.

“I feel the same.” You state, placing a chaste kiss against her cheek.

“So let us never part, my love.”

[just-jordie-things]

Hi! Can I request number 68 of the kiss prompt with Inumaki?

fuuuuck yeah good choice

68: A Hoarse Whisper "Kiss Me" ___

toge had known for a while now that his affectionate feelings for you were returned. from the way your eyes would meet from across the room, lingering a little longer than necessary before you'd share a smile and turn your attention back to whatever you were doing. or how your hand would brush against his and you'd shyly pull it away, the blush on your cheeks unavoidable.

even in the simple things your feelings were made clear, like how you'd always choose him to be your partner for projects, or training. you always sat beside him during lunch, or movie night, or in the car, and every time you'd plop your body right beside his, you'd give him that same starry-eyed smile. a sweet, silent greeting and display of your happiness to be beside him before you'd bid him good morning or hello, toge or dive right into whatever hyper fixation you were going to babble on about today, just last week it was i don't think i'll ever get over pomegranate boba.

but it seemed it was hard to get you to fully give into the affections you shared. toge had done his best, with what limited speech he had, to convince you that he shared the same romantic feelings you had. he'd push your hair behind your ear when it got in your face, he'd hug you just a few seconds longer than anyone else when returning from missions, he never shied away from your gaze, he'd text you when you looked pretty- which was often- and he'd even drawn little hearts on your hand while you were busy reading and he was bored.

and while you'd blush and giggle and your dimples would shine through when you smiled at him, you always seemed to bite your tongue. and he just couldn't have that. he needed you to know how deeply he cared about you, how badly he wanted you to be completely his.

so he took matters into his own hands and decided he would just have to pull it out of you another way.

you're walking together on a path in the woods where he knows your peers won't show up to bother you, and he decides then that this is the perfect opportunity.

and even though you're deep in conversation about your anxieties for the upcoming exchange event, his hand grasps onto yours, stopping you both in the middle of your walk, and the middle of your conversation.

he loves so much that you're able to talk with him like no one else. you not only understood him, but you seemed to pick up on his every thought and the flow of conversation never felt odd to either of you.

(unless of course he was trying to express his undying love for you, then it felt tricky. salmon salmon just didn't do the trick)

at first you seem concerned, your hand squeezing his as you study his face carefully, assuming something was wrong. but you find that he's smiling at you, and his fingers interlock between yours. you happily accept the action, blushing as his thumb strokes over the back of yours, but you're still confused at the abrupt action.

"what is it?" you ask, giggling nervously as you struggle to hold eye contact with him.

in the sunlight, his eyes appear to be the prettiest shade of purple, like wild lilac. it's easy to get lost in them.

he grins at you, flashing pearly whites as he draws you closer with a gentle but quick tug of his hand. you almost stumble, but plant your feet firmly in front of him. you're trying to fight off a rush of giggles now, your heartbeat picking up in pace and unleashing butterflies in your stomach that must be tickling you because the will to laugh is so strong you have to bite down on your lip to keep yourself from doing it.

you watch him closely, trying to decipher what he's trying to tell you with those eyes, but you're lost.

with his free hand, he hooks a finger under your chin, and now your heart is dropping with anticipation and your nervous giggles aren't to be heard.

instinctively, your eyes fall to his lips, still smiling, the marks on his face aligning with his dimples adorably. if you weren't frozen in shock you might have gently prodded your finger against one.

toge's fingers travel from your chin, skimming your jaw until he delicately traces the pad of his index finger over the seam of your lips. you're careful to remain perfectly still as he does this. you don't know what brought him to give into such an impulsive thought, but you wouldn't complain.

as his touch drags over the plushness of your lower lip and back to your chin, he whispers in a low, scratchy voice, "kiss me"

you've never felt the effects of toge's cursed speech before, and if you're being honest with yourself, as you close the space between you and slot your lips over his gently, you're not sure you're experiencing the command of his cursed technique now.

you've been told that being taken over by his voice is an abrasive feeling. that the command takes hold of our mind in such a way that everything is a haze, your will no longer your own. the sensation of being the victim of cursed speech is meant to be unpleasant, and even dizzying at times.

but it feels as though you move on your own accord, and the only dizziness and haze you feel are the welcomed cloudiness that the soft feeling of his lips and the light but musky smell of his cologne provide. everything about him wafts over your senses before flooding them completely.

you're not sure if his cursed speech had taken it's hold on you or if this was your own free will.

but you come to the conclusion that if he didn't have the cursed technique he did, and he'd still asked you to kiss him, you would have.

your hands are gentle as they lay against his jaw, and your lips are soft as you bestow him kiss after kiss, each one sweeter than the last, each one strengthening his newfound addiction to kissing you.

eventually the two of you are giggling between yourselves too much to continue, but even when you part you don't go very far. you simply hold onto one another, and bask in each other's happy glow.

"doesn't that hurt?" you murmur with concern, your fingers gently tracing over the column of his throat. "next time just signal me, or something, okay?"

toge shakes his head, easing your worry, before speaking anyways.

"kiss me again" ___

xoxo ~ jordie

[lookismfanfics]

Hii! Hope you're doing okay. May I request some of the characters accidentally hitting their calm maleReader instead of the enemy and now he's getting a huge bruise on where they hit him? thx u

Idk how many characters I'm allowed to choose so I'm just gonna name a few and you can pick..? 😅

Jake / Vasco / Zack / Jace / Vin Jin / Warren / Megumi / Goo

“𝐌𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐝!”

Warnings: Mentions of violence, fluff, not really fluff though, cursing, mentions of balls.

Jake • Vasco • Zack • Jace • Vin • Warren • Megumi • Goo

Hey anon! I’m doing good, thanks for asking! ♡︎ I decided to do everyone you requested because yes 😩 I also changed it up a little with the “enemy” part. Some of them are petty interactions, and others are full-fledged brawls lol.

𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞

𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ✧ He was focusing a little too hard.

✧ The same mantra kept echoing in Jake’s mind, urging him on: “keep fighting.”

✧ He was just a little caught up in everything, that’s all—

✧ He was absorbed in hearing the definitive crack of his opponents nose, feeling the warm spew of blood that followed a hit to the ribs, seeing the trail of bodies that followed his path

✧ These suckers were really something. There were so many of them, and they had been harassing this area for long enough

✧ Jake had called out to Jerry to ask “Where is he?” But hadn’t gotten a response

✧ Then there’s a rustle behind him

✧ A sneak attack.

✧ Instincts go: 📈

✧ He whips around, just barely seeing the glint of purpose in his opponents eyes

✧ “Jake!”

✧ He feels the warm contact of hitting a cheek. But Jake isn’t stupid and realizes his fatal error

✧ I mean… who would’ve guessed that the opponent would duck?

✧ “Sorry (Y/N)! Where’ve you been-?” He pants

✧ Honestly Jake has never been more ashamed. He did hit him, didn’t he?

✧ (Y/N) doesn’t seem fazed, he just keeps up whatever he was doing. “It’s fine… I’ve just been around.”

✧ The man is hardly panting… damn you (Y/N). You’re attractive even when you aren’t trying…

✧ (That’s what Jake thinks anyways)

𝟐𝐧𝐝 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ✧ As soon as the fight is over, Jake runs.

✧ His dress shoes slam against what bare concrete is left, avoiding the piles of unconscious and semi-conscious bodies.

✧ He tries not to panic. He has to play it cool, and not throw a fit.

✧ Eventually, he finds you talking to Brad, nursing your busted fists with your back to him. Jake let’s out a sigh, “Pretty nasty hit you took there.”

✧ A playful smile toys at his lips as he observes you. You turn to him, seemingly unscathed, nodding with a small smile, “Uh, yeah. Nice punch Boss.”

✧ He tries not to let the use of formalities affect him too much. (Inwardly wounded)

✧ “Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks, this time with a note of concern.

✧ “He thinks he has a concussion, boss,” Brad interrupts, just the hint of a smile intermingled with his serious tone.

✧ You ignore Jake’s slacked jaw and bewildered look, eyeing Brad tiredly, “So much for keeping a secret.”

✧ “You shouldn’t keep secrets from the boss- or your boyfr—”

✧ “(Y/N),” Jake drags his finger beneath your chin, prompting you to turn to him. “Is that tr…ue?”

✧ It’s not the thought of a concussion that made Jake stop.

✧ It’s…

✧ 😰

✧ “Your cheek… is this the one I hit?”

✧ You nod.

✧ “Well uh~ not to worry you but… it’s bruising just a little~” “It’s fine Jake-”

✧ Apparently he didn’t think it was “fine”.

✧ Jakes brows furrow together as he examines you. With the way his eyes darken and his smiles fades, He looks beyond apologetic; it’s as if guilt seeps into his every movement.

✧ “You don’t have to worry about it,” you smile. There’s not even the slightest hint of anxiety in your voice, but it does nothing to reassure Number One of Big Deal.

✧ “Yeah but you know I will,” he smirks half-heartedly, quickly reverting back to his worried face.

✧ He’s never letting it go. Every time he sees the splotch of that massive dark bruise, he feels the urge to apologize.

✧ It’s beyond an inside joke too.

✧ Anyone brings it up jokingly, and his head sags and a shadow runs across his face.

✧ “Sorry about that (Y/N).”

✧ “Jake, it healed months ago.”

𝐕𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐨

𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ✧ Fights like these were becoming more often.

✧ Vasco was adjusting to the oncoming rush of bad guys. He was confident in his abilities. Sure of himself; he was bound to crush them all.

✧ But…

✧ “(Y/N)? Are you alright?”

✧ His dark eyes scan the battlefield of boys swinging at each other, searching for one man in particular.

✧ He catches him in his sight. (Y/N).

✧ “Are you almost done—” “Euntae, focus.”

✧ The tone of his voice sends a chill down Vasco’s spine.

✧ The cogs in his brain stop working for a second as he continues fighting on autopilot. He wants to keep an eye on (Y/N). He doesn’t want to loose sight of him.

✧ Vasco feels a harsh smack to his ribs, knocking the wind out of him. What was that? His instincts heighten as his body reacts frantically.

✧ He turns to the guy fighting him, readying one of numerous forbidden moves just for him.

✧ Once he sends the guy flying it’s back to looking for (Y/N)-

✧ “Euntae-!”

✧ Smack.

𝟐𝐧𝐝 𝐏𝐎𝐕

✧ “(Y/N)?! (Y/N) are you okay!? Please wake up!”

✧ Vasco was reduced to a sobbing mess.

✧ You open your eyes, staring at his red face damp with tears. It’s an odd sight- especially since you only fell down a couple of seconds ago.

✧ “Yeah Vasco… I’m fine,” you offer a small smile. Even if it does hurt, you know making a big deal out of nothing would be problematic.

✧ You act calm. Chill. Even a little nonchalant.

✧ Vasco remains crouched on the ground while you dust off your pants, glancing around the parking lot littered with bloodied “bad guys.”

✧ “You’re positive that you’re alright?” He asks slowly, staring at you with concern.

✧ “Yeah. It’ll probably form a bruise at the most,” you reply. You touch your chest, seemingly unfazed.

✧ You feel awful for lying to him. Your chest feels like it’s on fire. It’s sore and laborious to breathe… but you won’t tell him that.

✧ “Sorry.” Vasco says simply.

✧ No one brings it up until you’re undressing at the Burn Knuckles base.

✧ Everyone is slipping out of their jumpsuits and into more comfortable, casual clothes. It smells sweaty and feels humid… but somehow Leon always manages to steal the bathroom before anyone else. (Thankfully)

✧ You listen quietly, offering smiles as Vasco retells a story about him and Jace, obviously awaiting your reaction.

✧ He doesn’t intentionally flaunt his muscles in front of you… but sometimes it seems that way. That’s partially why you like to keep most of your clothes on around him- so he doesn’t start comparing. 😳

✧ “That’s funny~” you reply to one of his stares that begged for your approval. You lift your shirt off over your shoulders, slinging it around your neck as you grab a fresh one.

✧ The room: … You: … You: 🫥

✧ “…What?”

✧ Vasco’s eyes start to gloss over as he frantically grabs your shoulders, examining your bare chest.

✧ “(Y/N)… who hit you?” “I’m sure lots of people did…”

✧ Vasco shakes his head, rubbing his hand across the massive dark splotch that stains your skin. The discolored purple and red resembles a fist… but it doesn’t seem to click to him.

✧ If he means right there… then…. “Probably you.”

✧ You smirk, shaking your head as Vasco stares at you in horror. The bruise doesn’t really bother you- you’re covered in them after today anyway.

✧ Of course you handle his outbursts calmly… reassuring him that you’re not angry.

✧ But he continues, eyes scanning over you for any more bruises that he might’ve given you. “I’m sorry (Y/N)… I didn’t mean for that to happen…”

✧ Vasco: 🥺😰

✧ He apologizes a million times, often quietly and at random. ✧ No- he will not forgive himself.

✧ Yes… he forgets about it for a few weeks before remembering and apologizing all over again.

✧ Jace and the rest of the Burn Knuckles make sure to not ever bring it up again. You also are forced to wear some form of padding under your shirt whenever you get into a fight.

𝐙𝐚𝐜𝐤

✧ Zack isn’t gonna deny it. That guy is getting on his nerves.

✧ This was supposed to be a hang out with him and (Y/N). They were gonna chill and head to the movies. Maybe do some karaoke later.

✧ Just the two of them. Not even Mira was tagging along today.

✧ But then this guy showed up.

✧ Zack feels himself growing more agitated by the minute. He grits his teeth and looks in the opposite direction, willing himself to calm down.

✧ (Y/N) and him are on a park bench… and this idiot decides to stand behind them and catcall.

✧ “You work out bro~?”

✧ Zack is literally seething. (Y/N) has to put his hand on Zack’s leg to keep him from springing up.

✧ “Do you mind reading between the lines?” (Y/N) asks, flashing his three middle fingers before turning to Zack.

✧ “Wanna go to the theatre early? We could walk around-” he whispers, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

✧ Zack is still irked. His brows are knitted together tightly, but he simply shrugs and nods: “Whatever. Let’s just get away from this dunce.”

✧ The dunce, however, seems to really like being annoying. “Can I tag along with you two-?”

✧ “F*ck off,” Zack glares. He starts walking ahead, curling his hands into fists but keeping them shoved firmly in the corners of his pockets.

✧ He keeps his gaze trailed on the ground, trying to cool off. He’d hate to ruin this hang out with (Y/N) even more. So he’ll play it cool and be the bigger man- like Mira tells him to be. It’s hotter that way. ((Y/N) will think so too, right?)

✧ The smirk that spread across his lips disappears in a matter of moments.

✧ “Nice ass-!” The creep calls.

✧ And that’s it. The final straw.

✧ Zack is going for a straight jab. He’d be caught dead before he let someone get away catcalling (Y/N) of all people-

✧ He turns and slams his fist, making direct contact. He can hear the definitive clack of teeth, he watches as he stumbles backwards.

✧ But Zack realizes what he’s done…

✧ “S-Sh*t (Y/N)! What were you doing there-?” (Y/N) nurses his jaw tenderly, glaring. He sighs and turns to the guy, telling him to ‘beat it.’

✧ Zack moves to cup (Y/N)’s cheek, looking frantic. He mumbles ‘idiot’ over and over… but more to himself than anyone.

✧ He knows he’s screwed up big time. He’s insistent on helping (Y/N) walk… even though he isn’t dizzy and he claims his cheek isn’t sore.

✧ He tries to forget about it as they watch the movie… but he can’t. As soon as the lights in the cinema flicker on he scans (Y/N) for any bruising.

✧ “I can’t believe it’s so big…” “I already told you it’s fine.” “But- argh I should beat that guy to a pulp- you sure you’re okay?” “Yeah I’m sure, Zack.”

✧ He’s apologetic- but still an angry boy at heart.

𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐞

✧ In his defense- Jace is usually pretty good about “self control” and everything.

✧ He’s also pretty good about it reading the atmosphere. He can tell when the mood has turned sour or hostile.

✧ He’s able to “let it go” when there’s a petty misunderstanding. Most of the time.

✧ But today this one guy (Duri…?) is killing him.

✧ He’s been a nuisance for a few weeks now… but The Burn Knuckles never had the heart to tell him off. Even (Y/N) was pretty chill about the guy- and he was usually more fiery than Jace.

✧ But as of right now, Jace stands idly with Woong and (Y/N), listening to whatever BS that guy, Duri Lee, is spewing out.

✧ Woong and (Y/N) are listening boredly as the one-sided conversation turns from childish comparisons to full-fledged insults.

✧ Duri wraps his arm around (Y/N)’s shoulder, despite (Y/N) having shrugged him off twice already.

✧ Jace feels awful. He reminds himself of how jealous Johan was back during the One Night scandal. It’s embarrassing knowing that he’s feeling jealousy about… this.

✧ He’s not a jealous person… but Duri really gets on his nerves. If he keeps up his stupid act, his stupidity might spread to Jace… and then he’ll do something stupid.

✧ Even as Duri begins to degrade Jace himself, rambling a bunch of nonsense about how he “isn’t as smart as he looks”, Jace manages to keep it together. He feels a twinge of annoyance and glares, but he doesn’t say anything.

✧ The rest of the Burn Knuckles aren’t buying the bs anyway. So it’s fine.

✧ “Know you place, Duri.”

✧ Jace’s gaze snaps over to (Y/N). Did he hear him correctly? Did (Y/N) finally say something? He feels a small smile winding onto his face-

✧ “I know exactly where my place is!” Duri sputters indignantly. His look of shock is short lived and is soon replaced by a smirk. It’s highly probable that he’ll take a pathetic jab at redemption.

✧ Jace hates the way Duri’s eyes roam over (Y/N). He braces himself for what comes next.

✧ “It should be sweating over you, if you know what I mean.”

✧ Great. Gross.

✧ Jace turns to Duri now, scowling at him, “You wanna say that again? The Burn Knuckles don’t hit on each other, so don’t even think-” “Whatever Jace. Me and him were just gonna do some catching up~”

✧ Duri makes a crude gesture with his hands. He keeps his arm wrapped around (Y/N), who rolls his eyes and glares.

✧ (Y/N) sighs, “Or so you think. You do know that me and Jace are-”

✧ One kick- one harsh smack. Jace doesn’t know what he’s doing- but whatever it is lands Duri facedown on the floor.

✧ He’s startled by his own rashness. Stupidity really is contagious. He frowns down at Duri but doesn’t move anymore. “Like I said. Burn Knuckle members like you aren’t allowed to hit on their superiors.”

✧ He turns to embrace the startled and disappointed stares from Woong and (Y/N) (respectively)

✧ But naturally, Duri needs to have the last word. Like all PTJ small fries, he wants to sign his death certificate a little early.

✧ “That stupid hierarchy is never gonna get you laid,” he grumbles.

✧ Jace turns and throws all his weight into the kick-

✧ Blocked.

✧ (Y/N)…?

✧ (Y/N) has his arms outstretched in a block, giving Jace an unreadable stare. He sighs, releasing the second-in-command’s foot.

✧ “(Y/N)-” “That’s gonna leave a bruise.”

———

✧ Jace is sitting with (Y/N) a little latter. He still feels a pang of frustration when he remembers the little situation… as well as guilt for hitting (Y/N).

✧ (Y/N) rolls up his sleeves, looking over his arms quietly. Based on his eerie calmness, Jace can assume that there’s a pretty large bruise forming.

✧ Despite the knowing of guilt, Jace is a tad bit grateful for the intervention. He knows (Y/N) only stopped him for the sake of his dignity.

✧ “You’re not normally so passive-aggressive,” (Y/N) comments nonchalantly.

✧ “I know… I’m sorry.” Jace rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, feeling a touch of color flare in his cheeks.

✧ He promises to help ice it, and assures (Y/N) that he won’t do anything like that again. He just smiles dryly and waves it off.

✧ “You probably won’t have the need to,” he says.

✧ Jace looks up at him, his fingers still gingerly rubbing around the bruise. “Won’t have to… attack Duri?”

✧ (Y/N) nods, “He p*ssed himself, apparently.”

✧ Jace knows it’s wrong… honest to god he feels bad… but he couldn’t help but smirk at the thought.

(I swear I’m sorry this entire thing is a mess. I can’t decide which POV to stick to-)

𝐕𝐢𝐧 𝐉𝐢𝐧

✧ In his defense, Vin had recently gotten his glasses re-tinted… and so he was having some trouble adjusting.

✧ But it would’ve been nice if he didn’t walk by you in some grubby alleyway. What a nuisance. He just wanted to go home, listen to some rap, and eat his onion rings.

✧ But you… of course… found yourself in a predicament. 😔

✧ “You’re just gonna stand there?” You call, back pressed against the wall as you stare lazily past the punks you apparently offended.

✧ They seem ticked that your attention is suddenly elsewhere.

✧ Vin just stares at you, silent for a moment, before shoving his hands into his pockets. “It’s not my problem.”

✧ “They called me a d*ck-” you call. Although the familiarity of the term has nulled any offended emotions, you’re certain Vin has reserved insulting-you-rights for himself.

✧ “Not my problem,” Vin insists, pushing his glasses further up his nose.

✧ The punks continue to close in on you, throwing insults at the two of you- despite Vin being across the alley. You both ignore them.

✧ “Ah- they also called Mary fat.”

✧ “Still not my problem.”

✧ “They said Duke’s music is better than yours-”

✧ “Did not!”

✧ “And they called your sunglasses ‘gaudy’.”

✧ Which is followed by silence as one of the punks lowers a cigarette bud towards your cheek. You don’t flinch, staring past his shoulder at Vin.

✧ You wait in anticipation for Vin to say something. Anything. You’re so intent on seeing his reaction you hardly notice the burning sensation of the cigarette nearing your skin.

✧ “No they didn’t…” Vin mumbles. He adjusts his stance- and now you’re sure he isn’t going to abandon you.

✧ “Would you freaks shut up?!” The punk rolls his eyes in exasperation, pulling the bud away from your face and turning to Vin.

✧ “Or do you have somethin’ you wanna say too?” The delinquent flicks the cigarette to the side, staring your knight-in-shining-armor up and down reproachfully.

✧ You inwardly moan. Vin has lots of things he wants to say. It’s best not to get him started.

✧ “You talk too much,” Vin answers, and begins strutting forward.

✧ You crack your knuckles, relieved you won’t have to take them all on your own.

✧ “Anyway this is a waste of my time- so let’s just go (Y/N).” He shoves his hands deeper into his pockets, not at all prepared for the slap.

✧ Yes. A petty, weak, girlish, slap.

✧ A slap that knocks his sunglasses askew. You freeze.

✧ “Hey,” you call loudly, watching as their heads swivel towards you. “Don’t look at him. Say anything and I-”

✧ The loud noise of bones cracking interrupts you-

✧ Vin goes rampant, giggling and grinning like a school girl. Oh hell. You shrug and get into your own fighting stance. “Well I guess he’ll kick your asses anyways- so nevermind…” you mutter.

✧ Those stupid glasses. Distorting his vision all the time. Even…

✧ In fights.

✧ You feel numbness tingling through your arms as you avoid another swing of your opponents arm. Reaching up with a strike of your own, you manage to punch him in the ribs for a KO.

✧ You’re so focused. Vin is so distracted.

✧ You scan the two other guys already beaten to the ground, and look up to see Vin walking towards you victoriously—

✧ But instead he’s charging you with arms at the ready— “WAIT VIN-!”

✧ He stops mid-swing… but only after he’s felt his skin contact with yours.

✧ The force sends you backwards into the wall. Nausea and dizziness begin bubbling in your body.

✧ You feel your knees buckle and your eyes crossing, and the pounding of your heart is auditable in your ears as you nurse your numb jaw.

✧ Meanwhile Vin just stands there in shock, calling you names while asking insincerely if you’re okay.

✧ “You can’t blame me cuz you were in the way you little sh*t! Ugh… f*ck…” he mutters.

✧ You’re calm while he rambled, but your patience begins to thin as he continues insisting the blame was all on you.

✧ “Vin…” you say calmly. “Would you shut the hell up. If it weren’t for your stupid glasses…”

✧ -He gawks in surprise

✧ “Then I wouldn’t have a concussion. Or a nose bleed,” you snap.

✧ There’s silence. Your face is illuminated by the blue light of your phone as you search for the Urgent Care nearby.

✧ “…That does look pretty bad.” Finally. He has the decency to be a little sincere.

✧ Vin leans in closely, trying to catch your eye. While you avoid eye contact, you are perfectly in tune with his movements.

✧ “I’m taking you to my place,” Vin huffs with a smirk, seemingly trying to redeem himself as he shoves his hands into his pants.

✧ “I thought you didn’t care earlier,” you answer, still scrolling on your phone. Only half-listening.

✧ Then his bulky arm wraps around your torso, and he scoops you over his shoulder.

✧ ‼️

✧ Not good for the nausea or dizziness.

✧ But anyway…he did carry you to the Urgent Care…

✧ Where he blatantly denies bruising you up, and even laughs a little. (Okay- he does feel a little guilty…)

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧

✧ “(Y/N)-” “I’m not closing my eyes.”

✧ There’s no way you’re letting Warren take them all by himself.

✧ It’s just not happening.

✧ He seems to know. He’s fine with you fighting, as long as he isn’t there to worry over you. He can’t get over the urge to intervene and protect you until the fight is over. That’s always been the case.

✧ “You let Eli fight,” you remind him, turning to face away from him and towards the crowd of delinquents. “You’re not (Eli. That’s) different.”

✧ You’re not different than Eli? Well then, you’ll take that as a yes… even if you do inwardly know what he was trying to say.

✧ Your shoes slap against the floor as you walk through puddles of water. The day is overcast, just like Warren’s mood.

✧ Soon enough the blood mixes with the water.

✧ The man spits out a tooth as you throw an elbow into his jaw. Your clenched fists shake like leaves as you deliver a kick into his back.

✧ It’s loud- but you can’t even hear the shouts of grunts of the fight…

✧ Just the ringing in your ears. The adrenaline pump doesn’t help… it just gives you endurance and an animalistic will to withstand the blows. It doesn’t help you make decisions, or strike properly.

✧ “Warren-!” You feel your heart beating in your ears.

✧ Warren is smart in his own way. But once his mind is shrouded with concern, he’ll do anything to plow a path straight to you.

✧ Oh? You were just trying to draw his attention to the guy making a lame attempt at a “sneak attack?”

✧ Nevermind then…

✧ But as it starts winding down and all that’s left are the decently-difficult fighters… Warren feels his heart lurching out of his chest.

✧ “Gotta help (Y/N)…” he thinks to himself. And the thought replays. Over and over. “The mighty Warren Chae won’t let him get hurt...”

✧ (Y/N)…. (Y/N)….

✧ You….

✧ “You-!?” Slam

✧ Warren didn’t mean to loose focus and body slam you into the wall— but he did—

✧ “You’re…(good?I didn’t see you) in the way! (Sorry!)” His words slur thickly and he skips a few while he’s at it.

✧ Your vision feels fuzzy. Your body feels hot as he presses his rough hands against your neck. But as your heartbeat slows back to normal, and the adrenaline boost wears off, you come to face reality.

✧ The fight isn’t over.

✧ “I’m fine Warren,” you assure him calmly. “But don’t get distracted-”

✧ “Then listen to me,” he says firmly. Ignoring the oncoming kick directed at him, he leans (down/up) towards you. “Close your eyes.”

✧ He forces your body into a sitting position on the ground. Your hands shake slightly as you hold your sore shoulder. Your eyes are squeezed shut.

✧ You keep quiet and try to block out the disturbing noises. Shouts of agony, the snapping of bones. It doesn’t bother you as much when you’re fighting together… but knowing Warren is going rampant makes you uneasy.

✧ “Okay… open your (eyes).”

✧ Warren is already kneeling beside you, brushing his calloused hands around your torso to (take off your jacket and) lift off your shirt.

✧ You feel the cold slap of breeze against your skin 💨 👋

✧ Warren’s droopy eyes look a mixture of sad-dog and irritated-cat. How could he mistake you for the enemy?

✧ Guilty… frustrated… concerned.

✧ He rubs his rough palm against your shoulder. His thumb pad traces circles around the large bruise that’s forming.

✧ The longer you sit there, the darker the bruise seems. And it’s making Warren a little paranoid.

✧ “It’s getting worse-” he mumbles.

✧ “I’ll be fine.”

✧ “I’ll treat it back home.”

✧ “Alright… take me to bed I guess.”

✧ “…”

✧ A pause.

✧ “Bed rest. I meant. Not really like that.”

✧ “…I was gonna say. I’m not sure if you’re up for that.”

✧ Yeah. It’s time to shut up.

✧ Is Warren sad? Yes. Guilty? Yup. Frustrated? Very. It’s never happening again. You’ll probably never be allowed throw a punch in his presence ever again.

𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐢

✧ Magami curls his toes into the sticky martial arts mats that line the floor. Even though it’s night outside, the training room is still illuminated by tube lights overhead.

✧ Practicing his karate, even when the room is empty and less stuffy, still feels constructing in the mask. It’s still not as bad as it is in the arena.

✧ He practices the fluid motion of his kick again.

✧ Then the movement of his strike.

✧ He hears the door creak open. Kenta swears that if Nomen tries to interrupt him with some annoying sh-

✧ A best of silence passes as he distances himself from the sandbag. Maybe it wasn’t Nomen after all.

✧ But then there’s a voice that sounds out-

✧ Magami feels the blood rushing to his face- and without thinking he swings his leg for an ushiro geri-

✧ Slam.

✧ He feels his foot connect with wood, snapping through the barriers and splitting the cypress in half. His pulse remains sickeningly fast as he straightens and turns to face the back.

✧ He was right. It wasn’t Nomen…

✧ Instead, Tanuki - you - stands rigidly behind him, cupping your face and the shattered splinters of wood.

✧ He broke your mask.

✧ “It’s just me, Daruma…” you say quietly, still standing stiff and in shock. You stare at him with half of your face naked and exposed while dragging your finger across your damp cheek. Blood. You’re bleeding…

✧ “Don’t get in my way again.” That’s his reply.

✧ His voice is deep and muffled. A better mask for his emotions that’s the actual mask that he wears. You can tell, out of perceptiveness, that he’s a bit flustered.

✧ His brows are drawn together tightly and his lips purse from behind his disguise. He feels his heart hammering in his chest. Why Tanuki…? Of all people.

✧ You tuck your free hand into your pocket, removing the remains of your mask with the other with calm precision, nodding understandingly.

✧ “I was coming to tell you how late it was,” you drawl.

✧ This is why Kenta thinks you can be an annoying prick. You stand there in such a relaxed pose, voice drawing reactions out of Kenta he has no control over.

✧ His eyes are wandering. Tanuki (you) was always more appealing to Kenta than the others, to an extent.

✧ “How late is it?” He asks.

✧Tanuki wasn’t as annoying as Nomen, and he carried a conversation better than Hyottoko. Hanyya was always accompanied by Nomen, so that was a no-go. And Tanuki was much less obnoxious than Shiba Inu.

✧ “The circus is starting in an hour. It’s that late.”

✧ His eyes wandered up from your dress shoes, your suit pants… and flickered over that iconic, unmistakable bulge that earned you the Tanuki alias; across his chest and up to your cheek.

✧ Kenta’s attention was fixated on your cheek. With the mask no longer covering your face, he could see your features for the - third time?

✧ And your cheek, he notices, is bleeding.

✧ “You’re gonna form a bad bruise if you don’t ice that,” he remarks all of a sudden.

✧ He moves to unbutton his suit and change into the convict clothes. Keeping his focus away from you.

✧ “Oh…” you murmur from behind him. Even without looking, Kenta knows you’ve begun touching your cheek gingerly again. “Well it doesn’t matter. It’s always covered up anyway.”

✧ Kenta doesn’t feel as guilty about it as he does embarrassed. And it’s not really- embarrassment… just- he just feels flustered. Actually, at this point he isn’t sure how he feels.

✧ “Ice it.” This time it’s not a warning, but a command.

✧ “I will… I will. Afterwards. You need help-?”

✧ At this point, Magami is convinced Tanuki could pull off any pose and turn him on. He feels riled up and agitated as you lean to help unfasten a particularly stubborn button.

✧ “…Don’t be a d*ck, Tanuki.”

✧ “‘No thanks’ would’ve sufficed.”

✧ You proceed to unfasten his shirt anyway. Kenta’s face remains impassive, but he won’t deny his gratitude for the mask policy right now 🫣.

✧ He stares at the bloody, darkening splotch on your cheek. Unmistakably the result of his kick. He also notes that you look good without the mask.

✧ Once he slides out of his shirt and into the bright orange one, he brings up his finger to tap harshly against your face.

✧ “Well, ice it soon.”

✧ He starts unfastening his pants. As he bends down, he can’t help but sneak glances at your limp bulge tucked away in your own slacks. He really disgusts himself sometimes. But you’re so damnably attractive, it’s almost annoying.

✧ Rephrase: it is annoying.

✧ You adjust your stance, shifting your weight from leg to leg and crossing your arms. Damn you. Kenta almost chokes.

✧ “Will do,” you chuckle.

✧ “Don’t make me kick you again.”

✧ “Daruma…”

Cough- cough… ☞︎ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

𝐆𝐨𝐨

✧ “Don’t wander off too far boo~”

✧ “Goo…”

✧ You feel a little exasperated. As Goo Kim’s secret friend, you’d think he’d treat you more like an equal. Or at least have confidence in your capabilities.

✧ And how did you end up being singled out as his ‘dearly beloved’ anyway?

✧ As you land another hit on some poor punk’s ribs, you feel your promise ring scrape his skin and draw blood.

✧ So… seeing as you’re wearing that ridiculous price of jewelry… you sort of already know how that story ended.

✧ But it doesn’t matter. You’re tying to stay level-headed as you fight, and your ‘future spouse’ being obnoxious isn’t soothing your nerves.

✧ In fact, you can’t recall a single time fighting with Goo was therapeutic. So I guess this isn’t anything different from the norm.

✧ “What’s for dinner?” You ask boredly. You sink into your toes and dodge a wild swing, kicking the kid in the gut.

✧ “Whatever you feel like babe!” Goo replies energetically as he finishes bashing in some heads.

✧ “I could go for some bird meat,” you muse quietly as a new onrush of guys heads your way. It’s a wonder than Goo hears you.

✧ “Ooh- okay! How about chicken?”

✧ “Pass. Turkey?”

✧ Goo swings a crowbar around expertly, a more focused expression on his features. He takes a moment to reply. “Nah… I hate the flavor.”

✧ “Okay, how about-”

✧ “Duck!”

✧ Whack.

✧ “…Or just… embrace it I guess. You look hot either way, babe.”

✧ “Kim… remember our conversation about clear communication?”

✧ “Uh huh? But I did warn ya!” “We were literally talking about birds.”

✧ You snap a guys wrist without even looking, glaring (up/down) at Goo.

✧ The rest of the fight you ignore him. Your expression remains neutral afterwards as he takes you to the urgent care.

✧ “At least it hit you in the shoulder!”

✧ “Yeah- I wonder where it would’ve hit me if I had ducked.”

✧ “Stop being all calm and angry at me boo! It’s creepy!”

✧ “…Alright. Whatever Goo.”

[scarletttries]

NSFW Headcanon Request: Steven Grant (Moon Knight)

Pairing: Steven Grant x F! Reader

Word Count: 1.8k (Explicit)

Request: "If you are still taking requests from the prompt list… what about Steven Grant and the Alleyway/Alley corner? I recently found your blog and it is *chefs kiss*"

Steven Grant + Alley/Alleyway: (prompt list here)

- Working under the guidance of an ancient Egyptian goddess was hard enough, without having to track one of your counterparts halfway across the globe every time he had a crisis of confidence. Marc Spector had been a thorn in your side for years on the job, his stubborn and erratic personality making him a nightmare to work with and the last person you'd willingly spend time with.

- So when you landed in London and started tailing him to see what shit he was pulling before you made your move, you could hardly believe the the change you saw in him - his arrogance facade faded into a sweetheart who took pride in showing little kids around a museum and helping them pick out toys, even if it seemed like a bittersweet irony that he always strayed into the Egyptian exhibits first. The man had become a creature of habit, taking the same route to and from work every day, stopping at the same places, and generally being far too easy to track for your liking.

- You were sure it was a trap, some fucked up game Marc was playing with you, but that didn't stop you deciding enough was enough and confronting him one night. He'd just finished his shift at the museum, leaving late after being punished with inventory, and as always got the bus back to his side of town. You were sure he'd noticed you sat with your back to him on the bus, but he chose not to say a word which only left you feeling more confused about this game of cat and mouse.

- Finally he slipped down the dimly lit alley that took him almost all the way home, footsteps speeding up slightly, like subconsciously he could sense that he wasn't alone on his journey.

"Marc!" You called out, stepping into the alleyway and blocking his path, his strict daily pattern making him just too easy to intercept. You expected him to start running, to scale the walls beside you, but instead you just heard a quivering voice, with a slightly unplaceable accent, reply,

"Umm, my name's Steven. With a v."

- As you strode closer the cowering man didn't back away, or even try to move a muscle, his wide eyes tracing over your silhouette as he took you in, surprised by the colour flushing to his cheeks and his rumbled brain choosing your beauty to focus on above all else.

"Fuck off Marc, you don't think i'm falling for that do you? We have work to do." You sighed frustratedly, feeling a tinge of guilt as he shook his head vigorously, eyes apologetic and soft, the antithesis of every interaction you'd had with Marc Spector.

"I'm really sorry, I don't know who that is, but I promise I'm just Steven, and we've never met before. Except you were on the bus before right?"

"So you did notice me tailing you?" You countered quickly, trying to get the truth behind the spark of recognition in his eyes. He gulped and nodded, suddenly very self conscious,

"It's hard not to notice a woman as pretty as you."

- His gentle smile, the warmth in his words, the slight hint of both fear and excitement in his eyes, this was definitely not Marc - and you were starting to feel more and more pleased with that fact as you let a smile creep across your cheeks, like everything that bothered you about Marc was reversed here, but in same gorgeous muscled package that you'd wanted to get a better look at for years.

- You only had to take two steps forward before Steven backed himself against the wall, desperately confused by the overlapping feelings of intimidation and arousal building up inside him, sure no-one had ever looked at him quite this way before, the happiest a deer has ever been to be in headlights.

"You're not so bad yourself Steven with a v, and SO much more charming than the guy I was looking for." You purred, inching forward until your body brushed lightly against his, the contact enough to know he was just as interested as you are.

- He didn't know quite how he ended up here, but Steven's mentally cheering himself on for managing not to mess this up yet, confident that anything else he says might be the thing that scares you away - not that you seem like the kind of person who's ever scared really. So he decides not to open his lips again, and instead listens to the voice in his head that tells him to lean forwards, setting his lips lightly against yours, testing the tempting waters he'd let himself sink straight beneath.

- You're leaning into him in no time, fingers trailing through his hair as your lips part, tongue taking control of the kiss and showing him he really doesn't need to be gentle with you. It's been a long time since you'd been able to take a break from work to have a little fun, and even if you still have to hunt down Marc, you can take a night off to enjoy a sweet British guy who takes way too long to build up the nerve to put his hands on your waist.

- You use your arms looped around his neck to pull his body flush against yours, grinding your hips against him and swallowing the whimper he lets out in response. His eyes are clenched shut as he tries to keep some semblance of self-control, mortified by each of the soft moans that slip out at every brush of your hips, determined not to let this opportunity get away from him. He lets his hands drift down your hips, skimming over your thighs as one gingerly reaches under your skirt, stopping when it finds the wet patch starting to form on your panties in all the anticipation.

"Bloody hell love." He breathes out as he starts to toy with you through the slick fabric, the sweet noises his touch elicits emboldening him to apply more pressure, rubbing firm circles over your clit, feeling your breath falter against him. He captures your lips in a greedy kiss as slips his fingers inside the fabric, his thumb returning to your clit as two fingers slide inside you, the delicious stretch almost enough to buckle your knees. His free hand keeps you pinned to his chest as works you up, every touch leaving you panting against him, your kiss trailing to his neck, leaving a bruise he'll wear with endless pride tomorrow.

- As his relentless pace starts to build the pressure inside your core, your thighs tremble again, making it harder and harder for you to keep upright in his arms, his own aching need growing inside his straining trousers. When he hears you moan out his name, he decides it's now or never, taking his hand away just short of your bliss, the whine that escapes your throat entirely involuntary.

"Just a second love, I'll be all yours again soon." Despite his clear power over you, he still stumbles over the words as he glances over his shoulder before undoing his belt, slipping his trousers down just far enough for his throbbing manhood to spring free, the cold night air making him hiss through his teeth at the sensation. Dropping to his knees he places a constellation of gentle kisses on your inner thigh as he slides your soaked panties down your leg, handling you oh so delicately as he helps you step free of them, stuffing them in his pocket before bringing his lips to sensitive skin again.

"You really know how to make a girl weak in the knees." You praised, surprised by the sweet giggle your comment drew from the man. The comment spurred him on to pull your thighs around his waist, rising back to his feet and pressing you against the wall behind you, now face to face again with so little fabric between you.

- Reading the uncertainty on his face you quickly nodded, squeezing your legs around him until you felt him start to slide inside of you, his fingers barely doing his size justice. Pure elation flashed across his face as you moaned out his name, the way he filled you quickly bringing your building pleasure back to the brink again. His hands gripped your ass hard as his hips bucked against you, sharp thrusts fucking into you over and over, his lips hungrily swallowing yours like he'd been starved pf the sweet affections of a kiss for as long as he could remember.

You grabbed at his broad shoulders, struggling to stay upright as his pace quickened, holding off his own release with everything he had before he could give you everything you needed. You were grateful he lived a pretty quiet side of town, the noise of the two of you echoing through the alley, the danger of getting caught only heightening all your senses as Steven's needy whines grew with the frantic pace of his hips, fighting his release but losing the battle in such a salaciously hot situation. You couldn't help but think you might need to extend your time in London to find out what other talents this Steven held, all thoughts of Marc long gone as a his new heavy rhythm brushed just the right spot inside you to have your head rolling back against the cold brick wall as you clenched down around him, your release all the more satisfying for his immediately following it. He clung to you like you were the first life preserver he'd been thrown in a very long storm, panting and moaning as your waves of pleasure seemed to ripple straight through him too, his lips chasing yours even as he desperately struggled to fill his lungs.

- As you come down from your high you'd have to tap him on the shoulder,

"Steven, you can put me down now." Straight back to bashful and embarrassed he'd apologize and pull out of you, cursing the whimper he let out as he finally left your soft warm entrance, dropping to the floor to ensure you were safely back on your feet, and feeling his heart do a flip as he caught a glimpse of his cum starting to drip out of your pussy and onto your thigh.

- By the time he's started to redress himself you're halfway down the alley, disappearing into the dark, leaving him calling after you,

"Am I going to see you again?" He wants to shout your name, but realises he never found it out.

"Maybe. I know where to find you Steven with a v." You replied without looking back, smirking to yourself at the thought of showing up at his door any time you wanted. You only missed the proud smile he gave himself as he pulled your underwear out of his pocket, knowing he'll struggle to think of anything else on his lonely nights now, mumbling to himself 'more like Steven without a v.'

[visionsofmagic]

bloody [gow headcanon]

prompt: when they see you covered with blood

character(s): kratos, thor, baldur, tyr, freya, freyr & heimdall

wc: 1.7k || tags&notes: gn!reader, no use of y/n or pronouns, fluff, kisses, touches. anger, madness, violence, getting hurt, blood, a little angst (maybe), lover!reader.

enjoy!

KRATOS likely to show a great anger the first time he sees blood on your body, both feeling irritating sense of not being able to protect you and wonder who had enough encourage to touch you – to hurt you. so, his face shows madness coming from pure rage he feels like he felt on his previous life in greek. however, he tries to hide it – decrease it when his palms hold your cheek, making you look at him directly and answer his, “who did this to you?” question which comes like a poison from his mouth – like he is ready to hold blades of chaos and manslaughter everyone cross his path including those hurt you. you only smile as an ensure that you are fine and the blood don’t belong to you. holding his hands, you use them to travel on your body, feeling there is no wound, just blood of others who tried to hurt you. his hazel eyes filled with sparkles of rage soften each moment his hands travel and finally, he takes relaxed breaths, calming down, looking at you with determined and furrowed eye brows, giving a lecture about how you need to be more careful, even calling him whenever there is a treat. he doesn’t speak aloud but his kisses on your face, his hands on your back to push your body to his, hugging you tightly, he shows how much he is afraid to see you hurting. you mean everything to him alongside atreus. he doesn’t waste any time to show you this while he cleans blood with water and cloth as you watch his massive hands work on your body gently. 

THOR is so much like kratos. however, unlike him, thor doesn’t mind using violence at all. he makes you tell names of those who hurt you. if you don’t tell, not wanting to see him acting violently even though they deserve it according to him, he seeks for them after he watches you remove your clothes, getting into a bathtub, cleaning yourself and the wounds you have while thor’s eyes study every part of you from head to toe without any shame, believing he has right to do it without asking for a permission and from deep down, you like seeing him watching you, spending his time like this only for you as his father keep asking him. you know he cares for you, so, you let him sit there, hands on knees, kneeling little towards you. his hands even caress your hair from time to time and after you are done, he picks up clothes you choose for you, helping you get dry and wear them. he kisses every wound you have while doing it, then, he nods, ready to leave for killing those who left marks of violence on your precious body. you let him even if you don’t appreciate his way of solving problems but you know he can’t stop ‘till he breaks bonds, cutting flesh, end their lives. 

BALDUR sees them even though you literally try every spell to hide them from him, knowing very well that if he sees them, he will turn into the madman, using advantage side of being an invulnerable god, killing everyone who crosses his path which goes into torturing creatures who touched his beloved without caring your health and being. however, when he finally sees them, he takes an oath to show them no mercy, put the fact that no one in all realms can think of touching you in any ways into their stupid brains before killing them. he probably choose his dragon to burn them all, laughing menacingly and feeling anger leaving his body with flames coming from burnt out bodies. he never blames you for hiding them but he says how you should stay by his side day and night so he can protect you because the world is cruel and he can’t endure the idea of seeing you getting hurt and sad. you are the only one who gives him the meaning of life and being, so, he always shows you this through these actions, protecting you with all costs, not minding whether his father is disappointed or not, not when he sees you alive and beside him – inside his arms. 

TYR is not likely to act violent against violence, instead, he chooses to take you into a safe zone he knows well, preparing enough medicine to clean wounds properly, giving you your health back, asking you what went wrong and listening carefully with pure attention as you tell the events openly. he helps you calm yourself down, giving you kisses soft as feathers, effective as sun and beautiful as roses. you let yourself getting rid of both wounds and sadness coming with them thanks to his gentle manner, taking you into his arms, covering your body with his massive one and putting kisses on your hair slowly. he is your safe zone, not the place he takes you into, no, he is the meaning of safety and the intoxicated feeling devour you. yes, he gives some advices about being watchful since all realms include danger but he knows you will get stronger after this incident with his help and he just smiles at you, ensure you that he will stay on your side forever, heal every wound you will have even if it means a hundred time. 

FREYA choose not to show her anger when you seek for medicine in her cave, showing where bloods coming from after removing clothes, exposing some parts of your body without thinking twice, being in a safe place giving you confidence to do so. she doesn’t spend any time, picks right and efficient magical spells and potion, using them to make you better – to see you well, safe and sound which she needs to see every day and night. she doesn’t like when you pull a wry face because of the pain, no, she prefers you with a strong gesture and full health. she tells you to rest in her cave, not thinking about anything, just reaching your health back while she discovers how you get hurt – who you get violence from, and she doesn’t think for second time as strong devilish magic of her finds their targets, giving them pain – much more than you felt, anger’s sparkles on her eyes, glowing lights on her palms and arms. she listens sounds that her targets make, her anger getting lower. when she finally is done with them, she rushes to see you again and preparing food to eat – good one because you need to recover and she needs to show her concern through intimate moments. also, she is determined to teach you lots of protection magic and spells ‘till your mind is filled with them. 

FREYR ‘s face will brighten with concern as he rushes to you, his hands reaching to you, grapping your arms, caressing them from up to down ‘till he holds your hands, asking so many questions in a minute such as whether you are okay or not, need anything from him, how you are covered in such blood. his concerned and calm manner changes into angry and mad one as he asks questions like ‘who did this to you’. he needs to know it – he wonders who can put a finger on you in the realm in which he opened his eyes for the first time, called as home. he is ready to take down those stupid creatures who thought they can hurt you and get away with it. however, he is just a silly because you just go for a hunt and the prey’s blood is all over you, so, you aren’t injured, no, instead, you are good and when you tell him that while holding his cheeks, half-laughing, he blinks so many times you ask if he is okay. when he comes to himself once again, he hugs you, saying how happy he is to see you weren’t hurt. he takes you from the hand into his special room, spending some times – some intimate times with you in there, letting you realize how much you mean to him, “don’t do that again. you have no idea how I can go mad if I see you hurt.” you listen him, then, you say you will not scare him like that again. also, you let him go for a few hunts with you after that day because every time he looks at you with cute eyes, making you become softer and let him travel behind you all the time. 

HEIMDALL is surprised and taking back when he sees your face and upper body filled with red blood. firstly, he goes for your mind, reading it to understand how you ended with these much blood. when he sees the fights you had before coming back to asgard – to him, how you got cuts from here to there, nothing serious but enough to make your face darken with pain, his own anger blooms inside his stomach. he is angry because of both how they dared to touch you in the first place and how he failed to show to all realms that no one could touch you since you are beloved one of heimdall, son of odin, god of foresight and lord of the asgard. he notes that he will travel around all realms, making every living beings understand the consequences of hurting and even touching you, heimdall’s beloved one and lover who he can burn all places for. after that, he lets you approach him with a shy expression, knowing he already knows how you ended up like that. you hate to be weak and you hate more when heimdall sees you weak. however, he shows no cockiness as he makes his way to you, putting a hand on your cheek to caress it, saying, “I will make sure each of them suffer enough to remember it ‘till they reach for hell.” with glowing purple eyes filled with proud because of seeing you fight for your life, coming back to him, and rage because of seeing faces of your attackers. he then makes you to follow him into his room he barely uses just for spending time with you in private, removing your clothes, cleans your wounds, reads your thoughts and feeling protective over you. he realizes how his hands go crazy while thinking how it was so easy for those attackers to hurt you while he is afraid to touch you sometimes. he will be their nightmare for sure and he goes for their heads after he spends a quite calm night with you on bed, giving you the love you needs to see after such violent incident. 

🍨

[mcflymemes]

GENERIC FANTASY PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue for any fantasy setting

you are a descendent from an ancient royal line.

can you joust?

this is not a question of bravery.

are you too cowardly to take a life?

hand me my sword.

the sheets feel scratchy.

you could have got us killed!

if you had kept to the plan, those knights might be alive right now.

together, we have a chance to take back what is ours.

would you ride into town with me?

you're playing with fire.

you should be on the throne.

perhaps we never should have come.

did you bring your bow?

you take one more step, traitor, and i'll chew you to splinters.

are you fit to compete, or shall the forfeit stand?

thank you, my lord.

i will deal with you when this is over.

you have to go alone.

we have some work to do.

it's an ambush!

why are they all staring at us?

were you robbed?

clean your sword.

i must look for a suitor.

i know where your allegiance lies.

pick up your sword.

you're not going to kill me?

what do you propose we do, your majesty?

the path takes us through there.

i will probably die on this quest.

even the peasants can marry for love.

your people love you.

i just learned this spell. can i show you?

are you with me?

how many more must die for the throne?

why don't we discuss the matter later?

what are you wearing to the ball tonight?

do not shush me!

be careful on those roads. there's been a report of bandits.

i'm not worthy of the throne.

how do i know your promise will be kept?

take the sword to the tower.

is that your horse?

i hear there's going to be a royal ball.

it was said to be magic.

no one has ever taken that castle.

what a waste of brandy.

is there a way down?

do you hear talk of a dragon?

you knowingly endangered a member of the royal family.

on a horse, with a lance... you're unbeatable.

some day, i'll be a knight.

there's an army out there, and it's ready to follow you.

hold your tongue or lose it.

you're no longer a myth. you're starting to mean something.

admiring the castle again, i see. isn't it beautiful?

tonight, evil has met its match.

you make me feel like a poet.

i'll ride with you.

this kingdom is better off without the lot of you!

why were they trying to kill you?

no one ever comes back from the woods.

i think it's time we found out what's going on.

i will not lose.

how about a little target practice?

you were right to fear the woods.

choose your last words carefully!

the time for pleasantries is through.

run, and i will run with you.

they wanted to arrange my marriage.

will you dance with me?

i'm sure when i'm older, i'll understand.

you know what we have to do.

what do you think? now that you know what i am?

you speak of what you do not know.

my parents were peasants.

we have a long journey ahead of us.

we should have killed them when we had the chance.

you might find this land a more savage place than you remember.

do you even know how to use that thing?

you have to be of noble birth to compete!

i didn't want to be at the celebration.

i can do magic.

are those catapults?

do you know any spells?

i'm not supposed to be seen with people like you.

minotaurs? they're real?

try and take them then.

help me fetch my arrows.

i'm afraid i'm not worthy of you.

i hear you have a quest for me.

sit with me and drink.

that's a bit of a long story.

there is no way that i am fighting.

i challenge you to a duel.

i wonder who lived here.

maybe it's time you had this back.

you have a traitor in your midst.

meet me in the castle gardens tonight, after the sun sets.

the king sent me.

you stole from the castle?

[chernabogs]

ames you are COOKING (or should i say, planting???lol) SO HARD with the flower language prompts, 😭💖💞💖💞✨✨am really out here sobbing and crying over them like im watering these flowers with my Tears lol

so here i am requesting for these prompts: rosemary, begonia, pink camellia, dark crimson rose, purple hyacinth, blue salvia, zinnia

i picked these based on your initial tag about Maleficia and zinnia flower,,,, I SEE THE VISION so im requesting it now lol but also picked on prompts that reminded of Meleanor and Malleus,,, 😭i think therapy bills should be forwarded to Draconias instead, istg all they ever do is be in grief and loss /lh😭

if its too many, please feel free to choose whichever prompt you like and take your time in writing !! ☺️💞🌹✨✨

Ohhh I did my best here I promise LMAOOO. I tied in some easter eggs with other works i've done (namely Monody, Stasis, and Labours Gained). I hope you enjoy my absolute monstrous dump about Maleficia, whom I will die on a hill for tyvm

EMPTY CHAIRS

Inc: Maleficia, Meleanor, Levan, Lilia, Malleus (whole gang wow) WC: 4.2k :))) Warnings: Just some death, but I swear it ends on a happy note this time. Flowers: Begonia (How ghosts help the living live a little), Pink Camellia (Where I notice your absence the most), Dark Crimson Rose (The grave I visit everyday), Purple Hyacinth (The worst pain of my whole life and how it healed… multiple times) , Zinnia (The seats at the table and how they eventually became empty… multiple times) Summary: Moments where Maleficia was convinced her family was cursed, and a few times she truly wished this to not be the case.

A mother's love for her child is like nothing else in the world.  It knows no law, no pity.  It dares all things and crushes down remorselessly all that stands in its path.

Their family may be cursed. 

For many decades now Maleficia had toyed with the possibility of such a matter in her mind. It had first passed briefly with the death of her father—the second monarch to take over after the initial uprising—and the subsequent death of her mother a few weeks later. No one was surprised when she went. Her grief for the loss of her love had been so profound that it had flooded Briar Nation, drowning both cattle and crops in her dismay. Maleficia had postponed her own coronation as the cleanup occurred. It felt ill-boding to be crowned while bodies were floating down the mountain pass. 

The thought had returned once more when her husband vanished at sea, leaving her with a newborn hatchling on her own. Her love had been a strong headed man with adventure burning in his blood—it had been what drew her to him to begin with. That, and he was the only ex-sailor she knew who was bold enough to try and hold her for ransom. Wiping the deck with him had captured his heart—and the fact that he had been a dragon settled the Senate to a degree. But the sea is a fickle mistress, and although her love had skill and he had drive, even the most knowledgeable of sailors can never predict its next move. 

She had not flooded Briar Nation like her mother had, and she had held herself together before her people, although the empty space in her bed and at the dinner table deepened the wound nightly. It was in the quiet moments alone when it was just her and Meleanor that she felt his absence the strongest. 

In the beginning she loathed him for leaving her. Whenever she cradled their daughter as the hatchling shrieked and protested, blowing flame, and biting for flesh, she loathed him. Whenever she dealt with the Senate or another disaster befalling the Nation, she loathed him. 

But when Meleanor learned to fly, learned to run, and shifted into her two-legged form for the first time, the hatred began to fade. Because although he had vanished into the mists on a voyage destined to fail, he had left her with the greatest treasure she could ever have—and for that alone she could hold no ill will. 

Perhaps this sentimentality is why when Meleanor dragged a thin, sickly-looking bat into the halls of Black Scale, Maleficia heard her out.

“Please let him stay!” The princess had asked, green eyes wide as she grasped her mother’s skirts. “Please, mother!”

The other child had shrunk behind Meleanor, but shadows could not hide the burning defiance in the boy's eyes—a gaze of confrontation, and one that nothing truly innocent should hold. This is why she lacked the heart to say no. She quietly hoped that Lilia, as she would name him, would be the one to slay whatever reaper was following them—that the burning anger she had seen would ignite a fire that would cleanse the family of its suffocating misery. 

With the presence of Meleanor, Lilia, and eventually Levan, the silent table Maleficia had sat at for so long soon became a place of raucous conversation again. Although she found herself scolding the three children more than once (especially Levan for his non-subtle attempts at discarding food), the lingering warmth she would feel as she gazed at the trio made her confident that this family curse was on the bend. 

Naturally, it didn’t last. 

The first time she heard of the Silver Owls, Meleanor was 200 years old and more focused on warding off suitors than an unmarked ship. Maleficia had allowed her daughter to indulge by instead consulting with an advisor alone in the dark of her office. The concern lingering in the advisor's words would grow to haunt her.

“Perhaps it is temporary?” She posited, trying her best to remain optimistic on the matter. Plenty of people came and went from Cape Sunrise. A single unmarked ship with a few scraggly sailor’s was not something she felt the need to stress over. The advisor seemed doubtful on the matter.

“But they have tools. Items designed to dig up our soil,” they had insisted, but Maleficia dismissed the concerns with a wave and a blase response. 

“Let them try. They will not be able to break the first layer of our land.” 

___________________________________

The first one to leave the table had been Levan. There were many soldiers and nobles who vanished before he did but, selfishly, he was the first one that Maleficia really felt the absence of. Levan had grown up from a non-confrontational child to her son-in-law, a general of the princess and a father to the future heir. His compassion had not faded despite the years of war that now tore the Nation apart. Maleficia knew this by the way she came across him one night, cradling his egg so gently while murmuring against its shell. 

When he had noticed her, he had not corrected himself; if anything, he held the egg even closer. They had not exchanged too many words that night, but she sat next to him on the bench in the gardens, the silence speaking volume of her support to his decisions. 

“You will return.” It was not a question—it was a demand. Her voice held the authority of a queen who had seen many, many losses in her long life. Levan had remained silent for a moment longer as his lips brushed against the shell of her grandson's egg. 

“Always,” was the promise he made, and the last words Maleficia heard from him. When they didn’t receive notice for several days after he left, the conclusion was drawn that he was either dead, or the closest one could be to it. Meleanor held herself well in lieu of this information, as had Maleficia. 

But the empty seat felt an ill omen. 

___________________________________

The next one to leave the table had been Meleanor. When she was younger, she used to rest her head on Maleficia’s lap as her mother had fixed her hair. She would ramble on about her day and what she got up to with the two boys in the nonsensical fashion that many children do. Maleficia had listened with amusement, although her mind had always been half-focused on what she needed to do for her meetings the next day.

The regret of not giving Meleanor her full, undivided attention sunk in deep when she felt her daughter’s magic cut off. The bond in their family was intrinsically woven to allow them to get a sense of whether the other members were still alive. If asked, Maleficia might say it’s something of a dragon trait. Most of the time it served to be a blessing to allow her to know her family is alive and well. 

When it cut off mid-emergency meeting, the abruptness had been so profound that she nearly collapsed then and there. Her breath had hitched, her words stuttering to a stop as she stared wide-eyed at the Senate members surrounding her. At first, she hoped it was simply a fluke—a disruption in the magic—until she didn’t feel it return and the horrible, tar-like panic of a mother when her child goes missing welled up in her heart. She was tearing out of the room before any of the Senate members even had a chance to speak, screaming for her guards and her soldiers to tell her what was going on at Wild Rose. 

Her daughter, who spent her childhood running through the forests and laughing in the face of suitors. Her daughter, whose hair she would braid and then re-braid again when the girl somehow got burs in it. Her daughter, who was set to become a mother herself and experience all the precious moments Maleficia had. 

Her daughter, whose body wasn’t even recovered at the end of it all. 

___________________________________

The final one to leave the table was Lilia. In wake of the princesses passing, Malleus’ egg was put in the cradle tower, and Maleficia was designated to spirit him into hatching. She felt the faint connection of their magic from within the thick shell that guarded his body. His warmth, the subtle movements he made; they were all indicators that he was still alive and well despite his tumultuous arrival.

But Maleficia didn’t know if he would oblige. Hatchlings often needed the love of both parents to be shepherded forward—and Maleficia, now over eight hundred years old, already felt the strain of her magic from the conflicts going on in her Nation. There was no doubt that she held love for her grandson—but a lingering fear that her love wouldn’t be enough burned in her mind. This is what made her turn to Lilia, to send him on his quest around the world to try and find an additional means to bring the young prince forward.

For the first few decades, it worked well. Maleficia held the egg on a nightly basis and poured as much of her love and magic into it as she could. The egg consumed it all in a greedy fashion, demanding more every time she returned to the tower. One would think that Malleus was starving within by the way he pulled, and tore, and ripped at her powers to fuel his own development. 

Then he ceased feeding. She recalls the first night it happened; everything had been going well, until the connection was suddenly severed, and the green glow within the egg dulled back into a faint tint of color. Maleficia had initially dismissed it as a one-off event. Until it happened again, and again, and again. 

There’s a curious sense of panic that fills someone when they do everything they can to no avail. The panic she felt came in the form of a privatized breakdown in the tower. For many decades now Maleficia had toyed with the possibility of a curse in her mind. Now, she was beginning to consider that it was not her family who was cursed, but rather just herself. 

First it came for her father, and her mother shortly after. Then, when it grew hungry again, it ate through her husband and that of her daughters. Then it came for Meleanor herself, and now whatever reaper followed them was looming over her shoulder as she held Malleus’ egg and begged him to take something. 

Pleas fell from the lips of a monarch as she rocked the egg, stroked its shell so softly, whispering to just eat a little more, just take a little more. But the egg had remained as cold and aloof as it had for several nights now. Her desperation mounted in an order to Baul to summon Lilia back—to slay whatever reaper was following them before it pried the last of her bloodline from her hands. 

Her hopes of his role as the vanquisher of death came in an explosive hatching that she was informed of after it occurred. When she requested for Lilia to be brought to Black Scale to be reinstated in his role in his efforts, the Senate had then informed her that Lilia Vanrouge would never step foot in the capital again.

And so, in a span of mere moments, the final seat was emptied—and Maleficia found herself alone once more. 

___________________________________

Grandchildren are the best reminders  of the beauty and innocence of childhood.

When Malleus was first brought to her after he hatched, she didn’t want to touch him. The purple hue of his stomach and the way his green gaze darted around, drinking in the new world he emerged to, reminded her so much of Meleanor that she wanted to laugh at the cruel irony. The hurt that smouldered in her heart ignited back into a flame that found her turning a cold shoulder to the hatchling. 

“Go clean him. He has amniotic fluid all over.” She remembers ordering, voice deceptively calm for the turmoil happening within. The wet nurse that was hired obliged as the hatchling shrieked and protested the frequently changing environment around him. His cries made Maleficia clench her jaw tighter as she stared resolutely at the battle plans drawn before her, her hands gripping the table enough to turn her knuckles white. 

A few times she went to him in the beginning. The encounters lasted only as long as Maleficia could tolerate seeing how similar he looked to Meleanor before she would depart and leave him in the care of his wet nurse once more. Guilt fought with anger in her heart about the circumstances that she found herself in and her inability to overcome them. She could feel the ghost of her daughter chastising her in the corner for being so cowardly in her approach. 

The breakthrough arrived when Malleus became ill. Grieves—a fever-like condition that affected fae children in particular—resulted in Maleficia sitting with her grandson one night as the exhausted wet nurse was excused for a long overdue break. She held him on her lap in the dark as his small form fought his fever, whispering how the stars that looked down from above were the eyes of the people who loved him, keeping him safe in this world. Her voice had cracked as she spoke, and it was only when a small whine left him did she realize she was hugging him tight to her body. 

“I am so sorry,” she had choked out, unsure if the apology was for the hold she had or the neglect she had given so far. “Please forgive me.”

Malleus had twisted in her arms, small wings fluttering before he settled himself down and began to doze. He had already forgotten what upset him to begin with. She wished it would always be that way—but she knew that was nothing but a vague hope. 

She loathed Meleanor for leaving. Whenever she cradled Malleus as the hatchling threw his tantrums, blowing flame, and biting for flesh as all children seem to do, she loathed her. Whenever she dealt with another part of the war or signed another treaty alone, she loathed her. 

But when Malleus scrambled onto her lap mid-Senate meeting, chased after courtiers, and flew for the first time (admittedly, into a flock of pigeons), Maleficia loved her. Because although like her father she had vanished in an ill-fated decision, she had left a small reminder that she was never truly gone. Maleficia could comfort Malleus, could see the ghost of his mother in his clever little eyes, and for that alone she could hold no ill will. 

Meleanor’s death had proved to be far worse than anything else—but her gift of the small dragon in her lap felt like the first steps towards recovery again. So, she had kissed between his horns that night and promised to herself that she would do all that she could to give him a future free of the misery that plagued their family thus far. 

___________________________________

In the aftermath, she spent time with him whenever she could. Via dinners, via having him sit in on meetings, via walks in the gardens—whenever she could, she would be there. However, despite her newfound presence changing some things for the better, she remained unable to quell the curiosity that burned in her grandson's mind. 

She found him in the mausoleum once. He was standing on the toes of his mother with his small hand touching her stone-carved face. Maleficia had not been to the mausoleum since the boy hatched so many years ago. The raw memories still stirred in her heart and seeing him look up at his mother with such a gaze of innocent adoration did nothing but unsettle her more. 

When he noticed her, his face had lit up into a smile as he hopped back down and pointed up to one of the other statues. “This is grandfather?” 

Maleficia’s gaze slid to where he was pointing. A strong jaw, a dangerous glint in stone-etched eyes, and a faint smirk painted the picture of the man she had once loved and held so dearly many years ago. Maleficia nodded. Malleus, taking this as encouragement, then ran back to the other statue he had been touching with his small hands. 

“And this is mother?” 

Again, Maleficia nodded. The painful similarities between Malleus and his mother were more apparent when they were side to side. If Maleficia were to squint, she could mistake Malleus as a younger Meleanor: the same horns, same hair length, even the same streak of mischief that got both into so much trouble. 

Malleus had hummed thoughtfully before stepping down again. “Do you miss them?” 

A deceptively innocent question. Of course she missed them. All she had left of her family was one grandson and three empty coffins: a husband at sea, a daughter in the hands of humans, and a son-in-law somewhere in the moors. “I do,” she offered back. “I miss them greatly.” 

Malleus had asked her why, then. Children like him were filled with innocence and wonder about the world. He had no knowledge of the bodies that were lost, or the tragedies that had predicated his birth. Her reply did nothing but fuel an unease in the boy, for moments after she offered it, he ran back to her and threw his small arms around her waist.

When he hugged her, he clung with a ferocity that was baffling for his size. Her hands rested on his head and stroked his hair soothingly as she had done with Meleanor many times before she guided him away from the tombs and the memory of family he never met.

She should visit them more often now. 

___________________________________

She rediscovers that there’s a privilege in watching someone grow. Lilia’s gradual return into their lives helps ease the stress of raising a child again in her older age, which is partially why she turns a blind eye every time Malleus slips out of the palace to visit the man. She’s honoured to observe in a more passive manner the way her grandson changes and grows as a person. She watches him go from spiteful towards humans to more amiable with the arrival of Lilia’s adopted son. As he grows before her eyes, she begins to see less of Meleanor and Levan in his features and more of just Malleus—the quiet, albeit arrogant, boy that was hers. 

Time goes by faster as she ages alongside him. One moment he’s clinging to her skirts, and the next he’s off to NRC, and then finally, 178 years have passed like the blink of an eye. She used to bemoan how slow time was—and now she wishes it to ease off a bit.

She’s sitting in the gazebo in the gardens for reprieve, a novel in hand as the screaming of insects choruses a song for her amusement. The aroma of flowers surrounds her and for a moment she feels utter peace in the world. The summer is ending and there are no celebrations or events to concern herself with. For the first time in what feels like eons, Maleficia Draconia can breathe. 

The sound of someone approaching puts a pause in this. 

She lowers her book to peer over at whoever is coming, hoping silently it isn’t an advisor or a courtier seeking out an audience on the sly. Fortunately, the sight of two horns and a scowling face turning the corner nullifies this as she turns back to her book. 

“Finally decided to see the sun?” She muses as she hears him stepping onto the gazebo platform. She waits for his response, but only comes to feel surprised when Malleus kneels by where she sits and does something that he hasn’t done in a long time now—he places his head in her lap. At his age, his body is too tall now to really kneel efficiently at her side, but by the gods does the boy try as he hits his head right down. Her hand comes up on instinct to brush strands of his dark hair behind his ear as he looks over the gardens, his shoulders tense with stress. 

They’re silent for a moment, listening to the sounds of screaming insects from beyond before Malleus speaks.

“The gardens look atrocious.”

Maleficia raises an eyebrow as she lowers her book to look at where he’s staring. Her hand continues to stroke his head soothingly as she huffs a soft laugh. “Our groundskeepers are going for a more ‘untamed’ look this season.”

“I have counted twenty-six thistles in the minute I have been here.” Malleus shoots back as his hand comes to rest by his face. “It’s late in the season. They might be growing lazy.”

 “Nonsense. You know how hard working they are. You spent ample amounts of time with them when you were younger.” She fails to hide the smile teasing on her lips with this comment. Malleus’ temper tantrums had landed him in more than enough problems in his youth. Problems which were often rectified by a gentle lesson of how hard it is to fix up his messes—garden destruction included. 

Malleus deigns her with a unprincely snort in response. They fall back into a warm silence as she keeps her hand on his head and returns her attention to her book. She knows that something is on his mind, but she retains her silence both to give him an opportunity to speak, and to enjoy the moment that they’re having. In the privacy of the garden, they can get away with this rare display of familial affection. 

She feels him sigh as his eyes flutter close before he speaks up. “Do you ever feel… unease?” 

“Unease?” She hums quietly as she turns a page. “On many occasions I have, yes. Unease tends to go hand in hand with some of the things I have dealt with.” 

She knows he doesn’t mean in the sense of his royal duties. Malleus is an unusually quiet and introverted boy—but she had noticed him being more so the past week as summer began to inch towards its end. He opens his eyes and sighs again before withdrawing to sit back on his knees. 

Maleficia wisely closes her book and sets it down before affixing him with as stern of a look as she can muster without chuckling. “Sighing and moping in the corners does little to aid me in providing advice.” 

Malleus’ gaze goes upwards to stare at the ceiling of the gazebo before his expression drops to a pout. “I am feeling reluctant to return to NRC.”

“Oh? And why is that?” 

Maleficia quietly reaches her hand out to brush his bangs back from his forehead, revealing the scale pattern beneath. Malleus’ eyes flutter shut at the gesture as his pout remains present.

“Three years have passed now, and I have yet to feel included in the school environment. Spending my days with those I already know from here hardly feels like an efficient use of time.” His jaw clenches. “Every effort I make to form any sort of connection to others feels like it’s a pointless endeavour at this rate.”

“Malleus, you must be patient with these things. It takes time for people to warm up to the likes of us. You must simply continue being yourself, and the right people will make the effort to get to know you. I understand it may seem upsetting right now, but you must simply keep trying your best.” A faint smile touches her lips despite the worry gnawing at her heart. She wishes she could do more, but she also understands that these are things he must figure out himself. “You’re going to this school to gain new experiences and see the world beyond our little Valley without the Senate looming over you. Things will work out in the end.” 

Malleus’ body seems to relax at her words as he opens his eyes again. His expression eases to his usual neutral look as he nods slightly. “... yes, I suppose you are correct.”

“I often am.” She pinches his cheek lightly, causing the scowl to immediately return to his face as he jerks to avoid her grasp, making her laugh in turn. “Besides, are you not excited to see Lilia, Silver, and Sebek more often again? Well. More often than you do already.”

A pointed look has him averting her gaze as she picks her book up again. His demeanour reminds her of Meleanor, but the similarities no longer ache when she considers them. This was Malleus—her grandson, not his mother, nor his father—and she was eager to see the person he was still destined to become. “Now, you should be packing, should you not? We don’t need the crisis we had last year where we were all hunting down books for you last minute.” 

Malleus groans softly before rising to his feet and brushing his pants off. He presses a brief kiss to her forehead, coaxing another smile from her lips before he pulls away. 

“Yes, grandmother,” he grumbles with all the moodiness of an embarrassed teenage boy, and Maleficia can’t help but feel happiness at seeing it. Cursed or not, she will continue to enjoy these moments of joy as long as she may have them.

[dalekofchaos]

Choices I would've added to Life Is Strange

I posted this on the LIS subreddit and thought I'd post it on here.

I wanted to keep to the same story without altering anything major, otherwise I would've stuck to the original plotline with Sean as the big bad, Nathan knowing about the storm, have Max, Chloe, Warren and Victoria team up to give Warren, Kate and Victoria more screen time and give them romance paths and add a ending where Max goes back to save Rachel, Chloe and the Bay.

I might be breaking a rule by adding more Warren, but cut content suggests we were meant to see Max, Chloe and Warren together as a team. Concept art sketch for a cut scene by Edouard Caplain, depicting Max Caulfield, Chloe Price and Warren Graham

Episode 1

Take photo of David harassing Kate. Rewind. Comfort Kate. Keep photo. To this day it baffles me that this is the only time - the only time - where the game breaks its own rules of "Max keeps things on her when she rewinds." Even small things like helping Joyce make breakfast respects this rule. If you tell Joyce you want one thing, grab all the ingredients, and then rewind to tell her you want the other thing, all the ingredients you grabbed are still in your inventory! You can have the items for both breakfasts in your inventory. Though the game does remove them all once you talk to Joyce and commit to making breakfast. You could make an argument that the photo didn't exist to the point she rewinds to, which breaks the semantics of how the time-rewind works (notably how if you pick up an object off say a table, then rewind to before you picked it up, it's still no longer on the table), but it still annoys me endlessly. Because that was my natural thought on that sequence, and the game just slaps your wrist and says "No. In this game all about rewinding and undoing your decisions and not having to commit to them, you have to commit to one." It becomes more relevant and thematic in later chapters, but it just felt oddly out of place so early in Chapter 2.

The choice between Help Warren before jumping into Chloe's truck or not. If you help Warren, Max kicks Nathan in the balls and Warren doesn't get a black eye. If you don't help, Warren gets a black eye as was in canon

Warren romance playthrough. A series of choices to help flesh out Warren as a character and a potential partner for Max. Continuing on the Help Warren choice. Helping Warren also leads to Warren hopping in the truck with Max and Chloe. Warren has a black eye from the headbutt and Chloe offers to use the first aid kit in the bathroom. Cute scene where Max helps Warren reduces the swelling of his black eye and you have the option to hold Warren’s hand or not. Warren takes off when his eye is healed up enough and wishes Max well in reconnecting with Chloe

If you choose to comfort Victoria, this leads to an actual friendship with Victoria. When she sends the thnx but we're not friends" text, you can reply insisting on it. This will prompt you to go back to the dormitories and when you go back to Vic’s dorm, Max and Victoria get to talk, become close, show Victoria the pictures Max has taken, have a laugh over the email situation and get Victoria to see the way she was treating Kate was wrong. Victoria will tell Max that she was jealous over her not caring what anyone thinks of her and thanks Max for coming and invites her to join the Vortex Club as it needs real cool people like her and not snobs and suck ups. Max asks advice on what to do with Chloe and tells her how guilty she feels for not keeping in touch and asks what she should do. Victoria tells Max to suck it up and get back in touch and make it up to Chloe and Max thanks Victoria for the advice and they leave as friends.

If you took Victoria's photo after Chloe proclaims "booyah skank, karma's a bitch" Chloe will ask to keep it because it gives her joy to seeing Victoria brought down to a peg and that Rachel would've loved it.(will add onto this for the other episodes)

Episode 1 ends with Max, Chloe and Warren together as the snow falls(evidenced by the concept art)

Episode 2

Romance Warren path. After Warren's offer to Go Ape, Max gets to explain her powers and the situation with Kate and Nathan. We get to prove it to Warren, we also get to learn more about Warren as a character. We find out Warren is basically the boy version of Matilda. Was neglected as a child, so he chose books and science as his passion and sci-fi and it made him feel whole.(idk this was the best I could come up with, but it’s more than what DONTNOD has given us) then Warren will promise that he will look around and help out with Kate.

Rejecting Warren path. Max will notice the blink and you miss it Warren looking at her window. She makes a comment that he's probably just waiting for me or is it? "No Max,, Warren's not like that, is he?"

Max will take photographic evidence of Nathan vandalizing Max's room and leaving the threatening messages. When Max accuses Nathan at the end of the episode, she presents it to Wells, Wells recognizes the message as Nathan's handwriting and Jefferson recognizes the photo as Nathan's style and this leads to Nathan spending the night in jail as well as being suspended.

Continuing on from Chloe and Victoria's paint photo. We are given the chance to tell Chloe about Kate's situation and let’s say in addition to showing off our powers to Chloe, Max tells Chloe about Kate’s ordeal and Chloe’s just as pissed as Max. Maybe in the Junkyard or on the way back to Blackwell, Chloe will offer Max to mass produce the pictures, post them everywhere at Blackwell and email the picture so she can post it online. She says “let’s call this Kate’s revenge” if you accept this will happen throughout episodes 3-4. -Victoria feels what it’s like to be humiliated and bullied and feels some humility -Everyone in the Vortex Club except Nathan turns on Victoria -Everyone in Blackwell calls her “paintgirl” and some things worse. -Victoria absolutely hates us and when she sends her texts, Max can either apologize or stand her ground and call her out like the bitch she is “karma’s a bitch ain’t it? this is what you made Kate feel. You deserved every bit of it.” -At the party, you can try to make nice and Victoria will learn a lesson that there are consequences for her actions. You can either forgive or condemn Victoria. Whichever you choose, you then choose to warn her or not about Nathan.

Continuing on the Victoria friendship. Victoria is genuinely nice to Kate and apologizes and says she deleted the video. This will prompt a hopeful Kate and a Taylor asking “wtf was that and Victoria laying down the law yelling “be nice to Kate and Caulfield, that’s an order” Continuing on after Max convinces Courtney to let her in the guest list and into Jefferson’s room, Nathan will be his mean self but Victoria will say “be nice to Max, she’s my best friend” Victoria will start calling Max Maxine, while Max doesn’t like it, Max will allow her to call her that if she gets to call Victoria “Tori” Victoria and Max will have a moment to talk before class starts. Catches up, Max shows the photos she’s taken in episode 2, asks how Kate’s doing and finally Victoria personally invites Max to the End Of The World Party and you are given the choice yes or no, obviously you choose yes. Which prompts Victoria to say “congratulations Max Caulfield, you’re officially a VIP member of the Vortex Club”

Episode 3

Warren romance path. Max, Chloe and Warren will be investigating Blackwell together. Warren will use his hacking skills to help them break into school. They each search for clues. In the Principals office of course, but also searching where the last Vortex Club was in search of anything that might help. Warren keeps a lookout while Max and Chloe skinny dips in the pool and Warren is the one to warn them to hide. You get the choice of choosing between going to Chloe’s place or going to Warren’s dorm. In Warren’s dorm, it will open with Max and Warren holding each other, Max at first blushes, but embraces the moment and the two taking a selfie together. We see Warren's dorm looking like this. Max talks to Warren, about how much she appreciates Warren for always being by her side, and Kate's. Warren tells Max that he loves her And a choice prompts to Kiss Warren or Hug. In place of Max wearing Rachel's clothes, Max wears one of Warren's nerdy shirts. They will talk and say they should go on a date to the End Of The World Party as a date and a means to spy on Nathan and make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone again. Chloe texts Max to come over and Max kisses Warren goodbye and says “see you later my white knight.”

Victoria friendship path. In the beginning of episode 3, Victoria sends a text congratulating Max and saying she’s proud she did something, while Max says she did more by the end and saying she’s proud of Tori

When we kiss Chloe, Chloe doesn’t push back, she embraces Max in a kiss

When we choose the “Side with Chloe” option in episode 3, we print out David’s evidence and take pictures of the surveillance footage as proof for Joyce. We talk about it but we don’t show it to Joyce and Joyce automatically sides with Max. I’d also have David snap and attempt to hit Chloe and Joyce stops him and finally puts her foot down with David and shows him the door. Always bothered me that Joyce only begins to side against David by Max's word. She might as well have screamed that Max was the golden child. Joyce spent literal years watching David treating Chloe like crap right in front of her, and even now that he’s raising his hand at her she’s not reacting, but the second he talks a little too harshly to Max, she jumps to take her side and honestly. Chloe cannot not have noticed that. Obviously she wasn’t going to start a scene about this since they were already all fighting with David, but I’m pretty sure she would’ve under different circumstances because. The audacity. I would’ve gone mad.

Max will get to stand up to Chloe. Basically she puts her foot down on Chloe. After Chloe snaps after finding out about Rachel and mocking Kate's suicide attempt/suicide, Max can then lose her shit and stand up to Chloe. Basically says the way she treats her is not okay and if she wants to help her find Rachel and seek justice for Kate, then things are gonna have to change or they are finished. Then Max leaves Chloe behind with Chloe realizing that she needs to change. I just REALLY wanted Max to stand up to Chloe at the end of this episode instead of just letting Max act like a doormat and take her shit.

Not really a choice. But I'd alter one thing about Alternate's Max's look. Give her long hair, and tied up in a ponytail like she was a kid.

Episode 4

Not really a choice, but after the returning from her time jump, Max returns to her dorm and goes to Chloe. Chloe properly apologizes for how she’s been acting since they got back together and agree to put everything in the past so they can work together to find Rachel and give Kate justice. Would've been better than just seeing the apology over text.

Before we begin our investigation in episode 4. Max calls Joyce and David so everyone could let it all out. It’s basically the therapy that Joyce wanted David and Chloe to go to but didn’t. Chloe calls out David for his abuse for the last 3 years of her life and the fact that he made her feel like a prisoner in her own home and how much the cameras made it worse. Then Chloe calls him out on Rachel. “Rachel was my angel. She was the only good thing that ever happened to me since my dad died and you and the spoiled rich kid took her away from me. Worse. You stalked her like you stalked Kate. And now Rachel is missing. Congrats, David I hope it was fucking worth it.” Then Chloe unloads on Joyce. For all the times she covered for David’s abuse, choosing to either ignore or condone the abuse and for the fact that she’d rather pretend everything was fine. Maybe end it with “I didn’t need a fucking step-father, I needed my mother when I needed her most and your first instinct was to chose the worst fucking man to bring into my life. Fuck both of you.” Maybe after David and Joyce say their piece.(hopefully both of them being remorseful) Max can either choose to tell Chloe to forgive them or “fuck them” basically Max calls out David for his bullying and abusive behavior, Max can call out David. “You saw Frank, who was an adult, perving on Rachel, a high school student, you even had the evidence and you did nothing? Kate needed help and instead of being that help, you treated her like shit” David admits he fucked up with Rachel and wishes he could’ve sent his evidence to the police. then Max calls out Joyce for being a shitty mother. “I used to think you ruled Joyce, but you are a terrible mother. Chloe needed a mother and you failed her. She needed you, she didn't need you to bring some man she's never met before, she needed her mother who was traumatized and hurt by her father's death. And you let David hit your daughter and don't even see anything wrong with it? You talk about Chloe like she's a problem, like a burden. She's your daughter Joyce and she deserved better. ” David and Joyce would apologize to Chloe for the past three years and do better for Chloe. I don’t know how forgiving them would play out, maybe it would be therapeutic and would result in closure for the Price-Madsen family and they have a chance to start over after Max helps them in that direction. After choosing condemn them. I think Chloe would tell Max. “Max, thank you. I needed to finally let all that shit out.” “You deserved so much better Chloe.” “I got better Max, I got you.” And if you chose forgiveness. “I will still hate them both for how life went for the last 3 years, but I think we can start fresh. Thank you Max.”

Chloe would enter Kate’s hospital room with Max. We’d see Kate talking with Chloe and we find out that Kate was there for Chloe when Rachel went missing and made Chloe feel a little better, that’s why Chloe said “she’s cool”

Max can warn Kate about the storm and tell her to leave Arcadia Bay immediately.

Reject Warren path. After the Warren/Nathan situation. If you're pursuing Chloe and only choose platonic actions with Warren. Max gets the opportunity to turn Warren down. She can do this gently or call him out. If you choose gently, Max will tell him she's sorry, she just doesn't feel that way about Warren and just sees him as a cool geeky older brother and points out to Warren that Brooke likes him and that he should totally hook up with her, Warren appreciates for gently letting him down and is glad they can still be friends and says that he's glad Max has Chloe. If you call him out. Max will say. "Warren, I like you as a friend only, but I need to say this. You're behavior is not okay." Mentions overwhelming her by blowing her phone up, the texts about Going Ape even if she rejected him, catching Warren looking at her window, mentioning watching Kate's vid, all the pressure he's putting on Max to date him and his attempts to make her feel bad if she doesn't date him. and just needs him to take a hint that she's not interested. She wants to be friends, but his behavior needs to change and Warren takes this to heart and apologizes for how he's been acting and promises to be a better friend. Max appreciates the gesture and uses it to start over and tells him that Brooke is interested and Warren also appreciates the advice. You will see Warren and Brooke together at the party.

Max calls out Frank on his bullshit. Instead of choosing to befriend Frank, Max gets to call him out. Calls him out for turning Pompidou into a violent attack dog, the fact he sells drugs to kids and his predatory obsession with Rachel. “You didn’t love Rachel, you were obsessed with her and whatever you did drove her away and honestly? You’re not just a creepy drug dealer, you’re a pedophile, Frank.” Frank of course would get violent and you have two choices. Rewind and call the police or let Chloe shoot Frank and afterwords Max calls to animal services to protect Pompidou and give him a new home. Either you get the client book off of Frank’s dead body or you get it after the cops arrest Frank. Either way you get rid of a predator. Sorry, not sorry. I have no sympathy for people who prey on children.

Warren romance path. Instead of Warren appearing drunk, Warren waits for Max and awaits her on the dance floor. Max takes Warren to dance with and it's like a moment of peace or like the scene of Alex dancing with Duckie. It ends with Max and Warren kissing and Max taking a picture to capture the moment forever.

Continuing the Victoria friendship path. At the party, Victoria says, she's late, but she's happy Max is there. Max fills her in on what her day was like. Victoria is proud she and Chloe stood up to David and Joyce and that Kate is doing well. Max warns Victoria about Nathan. and as they part ways, Victoria hugs Max and tells her to be safe and call her if she or Chloe needs anything. But instead of going to Jefferson, Victoria goes to the hospital to visit Kate. As part of a culmination of your choices in the relationship with Victoria, you can encourage her to go and visit Kate to apologize in person. It wouldn't even have to be an extra scene, just part of the ending montage to an episode showing Victoria knocking on Kate's door and Kate opening it and inviting her inside. Maybe this could have been what happens to Victoria instead of ending up in the Dark Room. So if you do well enough to befriend her and she accepts your warning, she goes to see Kate and is spared being kidnapped by Jeffershit. if she doesn't accept your warning, she ends up in the DR. Would have been nice and felt more rewarding than what we got! Also? Kate would tell Victoria about Max's warning, meaning both Kate and Victoria would survive the storm!

We are given the opportunity to enter a photo for the Everyday Hero Contest. We enter at the last minute as Jefferson would give Max the opportunity. So Max with Kate’s permission, Kate would let Max take a photo of her in the hospital. Which wins the Everyday Hero Contest. Max gives an inspiring speech about how everyone can be a hero and that Kate has always inspired her, how much she loves Kate and that she hopes that Kate knows that she is loved by everyone in Blackwell and everyone would cheer Max on. This would also give Jefferson the means and opportunity to drug Max. It honestly works better than Jefferson magically appearing at the Junkyard with no explanation(and it never being brought up).

Episode 5

We are given the choice to save Nathan or let Jefferson kill him. Cut dialogue indicates there was something more meant for Nathan in the final episode. Jefferson says this to Max “Like you Max, I… am a camera. And like some cultures believe I’m going to use my camera. To capture… your… soul. Now take a break. I need to deal with Nathan first. Don’t worry, our session is just… getting started." I think Max could’ve helped Nathan in the dark room, to owe her the favor, Nathan would help Max.

Since I didn't have Chloe killed in Episode 4, Chloe and David would've worked together to save Max. Max and Chloe rush to diner to save Joyce, while also to use Warren's picture to go back in time. While at the diner we get a chance for Max to confess her feelings for Chloe and to tell Joyce while she approves.

While on the journey to the Lighthouse before the Nightmare world kicks in, we are given the choice to save everyone in the diner or leave everyone behind. After you save everyone at the diner, Chloe asks if they should double back to the hospital to save Kate and Victoria, but Max insists the hospital is so far from the storm and they'd be safer there anyway

Third ending. Sacrifice Max. Max screams no, Nathan freaks out and shoots Max. David subdues Nathan and Max is rushed to the hospital. Inspired by this comic and video

An addition to the endings. I wish we could have seen the last entry in Max's journal after she saved Chloe or Arcadia Bay. It would give one last glimpse into her thoughts, as well as clarify the endings a bit more. Also not really a choice, but an addition to the Bae ending. I'd make this ending twice as long, and the extra 5 minutes would be scenes following each other over the next few years. Show how Max and Chloe head to Seattle to visit Max's parents. Show how they help each other cope with trauma (like Chloe comforting Max when she wakes up from nightmares, or Max supporting Chloe at Joyce's funeral, or how they grieve every October 11). Show how Max doesn't give up on becoming a photographer, and Chloe is there to encourage her to follow her dreams. Show how they begin a romantic relationship (including the kiss this ending deserves) if you romanced Chloe. End it on a positive note as Max and Chloe buy the RV and go traveling like they always wanted to, and the last shot is Max and Chloe smiling at each other before hitting the road (as in the original Bae ending). Also among a few shots we might see Max and Chloe hanging out with Kate and Victoria - the former would be if you saved Kate, and the latter would be if you were nice to Victoria. and Nathan appearing if you saved him. What we'd see with Nathan is Nathan in a blue jacket like he has in the alternate timeline to reflect his new change in behavior and redemption. Hugging Victoria, apologizing to Kate, Max and Chloe. Hugging Victoria, Max and Kate and shaking Chloe's hand. I'm tempted to say he could've been in the Brody role in LIS 2, since he kind of fits Brody, cause Brody's line about his family having money but no soul would fit a Nathan after surviving the storm. It would have made this ending more complete, it wouldn't have required their cameos in the sequel, and already in 2015 it would have disproved the theories that death would continue to haunt Chloe/another storm would happen. Addition to the Bay Ending. I like to think it would be a collection of the montages we already got and Chloe’s funeral. But more. We’d see Max dealing with Chloe’s loss, her grief, but ultimately showing Max living her life and moving on. Show that Max still misses Chloe, but show her living her life. And just show Max living her best life with Warren, Kate, Brooke, Dana, Daniel, Stella and Alyssa. Even show montage of a friendship with Victoria. Show Max having a tea date with Kate. Show Max Goin Ape with Warren. Max doing photoshoots with Victoria and shopping dates with Victoria, Courtney and Taylor. Max doing group projects and games with Warren, Kate, Brooke, Stella, Alyssa, and Daniel. Max being Dana’s official photographer. And show Max and her friends graduating Blackwell and living their lives in Arcadia Bay. We just needed to see that despite losing Chloe, Max is okay and that while she will hold onto the memories of Chloe, she can live. The final scene is Max and Warren visiting the Lighthouse. The Blue Butterfly appears and it touches Max and as the Butterfly flies away, Max says "Goodbye Chloe as Warren holds onto Max and shares a kiss at the Lighthouse."

[tickle-bugs]

Have you considered Bruce being super awkward and stiff when he's hanging out with Clark and Diana, pre relationship or early relationship or whatever, and Jason and Dick seeing that and immediately being like "nope. We're not having that. Dude needs to loosen up." And Bruce never sees it coming when they flank him and start going to town on his sides. And of course Clark and Diana are all "oh?? So he is human?? Interesting." And Bruce threatens to ground two grown men because he just knows his life is about to change. Clark and Diana are goblins. He's done.

continued: OKAY BUT Bruce in bed in between Diana and Clark and they're all that perfect state of sleepy loopy comfortable and warm. And Clark is rubbing these soothing circles over Bruce's stomach and chest and Bruce is just melting into the bed and Clark is all "who's your favorite partner" and Bruce doesn't hesitate to say Diana, just to mess with Clark. But of course it backfires on him because "Bruce, look at his face. How is he not your favorite?"

You KNOW how I feel about them FUCK anyways here's these two prompts smushed together because...Im love them.

This fic is a sequel to Smitten! You don't have to read it but it will enrich your experience :)

Baby, I Surrender

Bruce deals with bombshells professionally, both in and out of the cowl, but absolutely nothing could prepare him for the world of dating two superhumans at once.

He’d never been one for monogamy, and he was happy to let the tabloids chalk it up to whatever psychological buzzword they were abusing that month. It didn’t matter. The number of partners has never been his problem…it’s the dating part. He’s not soft. Kind words are never his instinct, touch has to be coaxed out of him--most people tire of trying to train affection into him by the first month or so.

Clark, for some reason, seems to like his awkwardness. When Bruce wants to backpedal out of emotional proximity, Clark’s there to box him in and sit in the vulnerability with him. He’s a tease in more ways than one, but mostly he’s sweet. Like, send Bruce a box of chocolates at work ‘just because’ sweet. Bruce is starting to settle into the reciprocation part--he sent a bouquet over to Clark’s earlier in the week and it only made him nauseous once. 

Diana had surprised them both. She and Bruce had been circling each other for a while, flirting for the fun of it at events. There’s always been something between them, he thinks, a soft and sacred thing at the center of an iron-clad friendship. She’s saved his life without breaking a sweat, but she’s also gone with him on those long, silent walks he needs to recall who he is. So when a friend--a woman like that drags your boyfriend over and asks the both of you to dinner…well, Bruce would’ve been a fool to say no. 

The three of them are still easing into the togetherness of this affair, still picking around the fragile parts with jittery trepidation. Bruce wanted desperately to avoid public attention, but he and Clark frequently cross paths for day job purposes as it is. Also, it would be…unbecoming of him to avoid Diana as one of the Smithsonian’s most generous donors. So, when the Smithsonian announced its ribbon-cutting gala for its new exhibition, Bruce decided that he was going to be brave and go with his partners. As a unit. 

Bruce descends the grand staircase to find Diana and Clark looking radiant as all hell. Diana slow-dances with Clark in a floor-length maroon gown that flatters both her strong shoulders and curves. Clark’s jacket is the same color as her dress and fitted perfectly to his body. Diana dips him and he laughs, holding onto her as she lifts him back up. 

There’s no music. Bruce’s heart couldn’t be more full. 

“You’re both…matching.” He pauses. They don’t stop swaying, but they both smile at him. 

“I think someone--” Diana gives Clark a playful look-- “May have overheard me trying to choose what to wear. He picked me up like this.”

“I have no idea what you mean.” Clark clears his throat and adjusts his glasses, but his cheeks dust a faint pink. 

“You look…You both look…” Bruce runs a hand over his mouth to hide his fleeting smile. “I just threw this on, but now I’m sensing that I should change.” 

“You’ve trained him well, Clark. That was almost a full compliment.” Diana leans back into Clark’s shoulder, but her eyes never leave Bruce’s. 

“Can’t take credit for that.” Clark laughs, winding a lazy arm around her waist. She laces their fingers together. The overwhelming urge to kiss them both senseless is a welcome surprise. Bruce takes it in stride. 

Bruce does not run upstairs, as that would be undignified and embarrassing, but he does hurry. He changes into a sleek black tuxedo set and loses the tie--there’s no time to get Alfred to tie one now. He rustles through his pocket square collection until he finds a gorgeous maroon silk to fold into his breast pocket.

He bursts out of his room and nearly slams right into Jason and Dick. 

“Woah!” They manage to swerve out of the way at the last minute. Bruce blanches. Father and sons contend with each other for a moment while Bruce desperately tries to sink into the Earth. 

“You haven’t left yet?” Jason brightens with the beginning of a smirk. 

“You’re one to talk. The two of you were supposed to be on patrol an hour ago.” Bruce fiddles with his cufflinks. Dick tsks at him and goes to fasten them for him, but apparently the cufflinks aren’t up to his standard. He huffs, disappears into Bruce’s room, and reappears with a different set.

“You were in a different suit an hour ago.” Jason’s eyebrows raise. Bruce can hear the little hamster wheel that is his brain rattling as he regrettably connects the dots. Dick looks up from adjusting Bruce’s sleeves. He and Jason have an unintelligible conversation with their eyes alone. 

Bruce regrets adopting such intelligent orphans. 

“Oh my god. Bruce, did you change to match Clark?” Dick gasps. Jason snickers into his fist. 

“No.” Bruce clenches his jaw. “Yes.”

“You look fine.” Jason claps his shoulder. 

“You look good.” Dick fiddles with Bruce’s collar. Bruce swats his hands away. 

“Thank you. Patrol. Now.” Bruce gestures back the way they came. 

“Be safe,” Bruce calls after them. He waits until he hears them walk away and then waits a little longer before he dares to leave. He does hurry down the steps this time, but only because the chance of encountering more of his kids is spiking by the second. Also, because they’re late. 

“Sorry about that. Let’s get go--mmph.” Bruce gets swallowed into a kiss with Clark, deep and sweet. Bruce grips Clark’s biceps to remember which way is up. 

“This whole situation is going to be a problem for me.” Clark gestures at Bruce, breathless. Bruce tilts his head and lets his eyes roam Clark’s exquisite form.

“I’d hate to cause any problems for you, Mr. Kent.” Bruce walks his fingers up Clark’s chest and tugs at his tie. 

“I’m sure you would.” Clark clears his throat. Diana wraps her arms around Bruce from behind.

“You’ll save a little bit of this for us, won’t you?” She hums, trailing her fingers down the column of Bruce’s throat and down to the exposed part of his chest. He shivers.

“The night is still young. We’ll see what happens.” He kisses her over his shoulder, turning to lean into it fully. He memorizes the way her lipstick looks so he can daydream about her leaving smudges of it on his skin.

Bruce perks up at a creaking floorboard, one that only creaks when one of his children has gotten un-sneaky in their sneaking. He narrows his eyes at the balcony. Jason’s tuft of white hair is just barely visible behind a pillar. 

Bruce heaves a deep sigh.

“I know you’re up there,” Bruce calls. Dick and Jason both stumble out from their hiding space and immediately adjust themselves. Their descent down the stairs is anything but normal, but Bruce is proud of them for trying, at least.

“You didn’t tell us you were dating Wonder Woman too,” Dick hisses, eyes wide. Diana waves at him. He meekly waves back. 

“Nah, no way. This has to be a charity thing.” Jason whispers not-so-quietly. 

“Not a charity thing, Jason, though I appreciate your unwavering faith.” Bruce huffs, but something sour does curl inside him at the jab. He should be used to it, but he isn’t. Jason must see something in his face because he shuffles his weight.

“Didn’t know it was serious. Sorry.” 

“I don’t know what it is, but I like it. Ideally, they also like it. Don’t tell the others until I’m—we’re sure it’ll work.” Bruce runs a hand through his hair. 

“Good luck keeping something like this secret in this house. Between Cass living in the walls and Steph’s crush on you-know-who—“ Jason tilts his head towards Diana— “you’re toast.” 

“Also, I’m pretty sure they heard you,” Dick murmurs. Bruce hangs his head in defeat. He can hear his partners laughing softly at him, but he chooses to strategically ignore it. 

“Clark, Diana. These are two of my children, Dick and Jason.” Bruce puts a hand on both of their shoulders and gives a firm squeeze. 

“We’ve heard plenty of good things about you.” Diana beams. Jason gives her a firm handshake. Dick kisses her knuckles. Bruce can’t help but smile at how excited they are. 

It bodes well for whatever this is, between the three of them. 

“So have we.” Dick beams. 

“Really?” Clark glances at Bruce with the softest smile. Bruce bashfully rolls his eyes. 

“Well, no. We’ve been trying but he won’t tell us anything.” Dick nudges Bruce’s shoulder. 

“It means he cares.” Jason mock-whispers. 

“Alright, you’re done. Out. Go. Bye.” Bruce shoos them away with firm hands on their backs, but they resist. 

“C’mon, wait, let’s get a picture!” Dick fishes out his phone and holds it up like a white flag. Jason leans up against the wall, keen to observe. 

“The press will take plenty.” Bruce frowns. 

“Yeah, but I think Alfred would love one of the three of you, don’t you think?” Dick blinks, all innocence. Bruce glares daggers at him. 

“A picture sounds lovely.” Diana sweeps Clark and Bruce into either side of her. Clark and Bruce touch hands across the small of her back. 

“Bruce, smile. It’s not a funeral.” 

“I know how to smile, Jason.” Bruce rolls his eyes. 

“Would you like to prove it?” Jason gestures at him. Bruce grimaces for the picture. 

Of course, he’s had plenty of practice faking smiles for a camera. There’s something about this picture though, the implications of it, that scares the Brucie routine right out of him. Maybe because it matters. 

“This is stupid,” Bruce grumbles. 

“It’s sweet. It means they care,” Diana whispers teasingly, kissing his cheek. 

“That’s so cute! Hold that--okay, nope, we lost the smile.” Dick sighs and puts his hands on his hips. Jason leans over to him and they murmur back and forth for a while. Dick’s eyebrows go up in that way they do when he has an idea. 

“Can you hear what they’re saying?” Bruce mutters to Clark. 

“I will not confirm, deny, or disclose it.” Clark grins mischievously. Something about the look in his eye is familiar, it sends Bruce’s stomach swooping in a strange way. 

Dick bounds up to Clark and bounces on his toes. His eyes are glittering with awe. 

“Mr. Kent--”

“Please, Clark is fine.” 

“Clark.” Dick bites his lip on a smile. Bruce makes a note to commend him for not squealing. “Would you hold this for a moment?”

“Of course.” Clark takes the offered cellphone. Dick leans up and whispers something in his ear, hiding his mouth behind his hands. Clark is suddenly aglow, grinning as if Christmas has come early. 

“What are you planning? What’s happening?” Bruce hisses, looking between the two of them. Clark shrugs dramatically. 

“Nothing, nothing. We’ve kept you waiting long enough. We’re gonna take one more photo, and it is what it is. If it’s terrible, Alfred can always grab one off the internet.” Dick waves nonchalantly, striding up to the three of them. Bruce narrows his eyes.

Dick fiddles with various elements of Bruce’s outfit, frowning deeply. He can’t seem to get things to lay the way he likes, which alights a deep spark of anxiety in Bruce’s gut. He knows he looks fine, but Dick doesn’t seem to think so—

“Jason, come help me fix this.” 

“My pleasure.” Oh, Jason is smiling. That’s--well, it’s lovely. Bruce doesn’t see it often anymore. But it’s also terrifying and an omen of chaos. Not lovely. 

Jason and Dick both duck under Bruce’s arms in unison and start tickling him. Betrayed by his own children. 

Bruce has fought off deadlier assassins blindfolded and with his hands bound behind his back, but the difference is that it’s frowned upon to punch his children. Which means, regrettably, he folds. 

“Hey!” Bruce manages to snatch one of Jason’s hands, but it leaves him open for Dick to squeeze his sides. Bruce’s laughter gets the better of him and he leans into Diana for protection. 

Diana gasps in sheer delight. 

“I didn’t know you were ticklish, Bruce! Did you know about this?” She tugs on Clark’s sleeve. He takes a few pictures of Bruce. 

“Yeah, I…found out pretty early. Figured I should let you stumble across it, lest Bruce suddenly ‘find’ that kryptonite spear he swears he got rid of.” Clark murmurs. Bruce gives him the finger, face burning. 

With some difficulty, Bruce manages to detach Jason and Dick from his person. They both grumble at being foiled, but they look like…they’re in trouble? Or expecting it, at least. It tugs painfully at Bruce’s spirit. 

He swallows the lecture he was going to give in favor of ruffling their hair aggressively. Dick laughs, Jason screeches indignantly, and Bruce figures that’s more than enough for now. 

“You look thoroughly debauched, we’re fashionably late, and I’ve just figured out what I’d like to do with the next three hours of my time. Minimum.” Diana smooths her hands over Bruce’s chest. 

“See, I liked the first part of that. How about we stay there?” Bruce hovers a hair’s breadth from her lips with a smirk. She closes the gap, pulling him close by the back of his neck. 

Evil fingers pinch his sides and Bruce squeaks into Diana’s mouth. 

“Sorry. Couldn’t resist.” Clark grins. Bruce scowls with no heat. Clark bestows a righteous apology kiss upon him, one that takes him out at the knees a bit. 

“I’m out.” Jason gags, trudging up the stairs. 

“It was nice meeting you both.” Dick winks, bounding after Jason. 

Bruce sighs fondly as they go. It’s Clark who holds his waist this time, leaning in to murmur in his ear. 

“Are we sure that we have to go?”

“If Vicki Vale is going to hunt me down for an exclusive anywhere, I’d rather it not be here. Again.” Bruce squeezes Clark’s hand. 

“It’d be a waste not to take these outfits for a spin.” Diana loops her arm through Bruce’s. He hums in approval and starts to walk them to the door.

“Maybe I can be convinced to make an early exit.” Bruce smirks at the way his partners stiffen beside him. 

…

They grace the gala for truly an hour at best—Diana and Clark have an express talent for winding each other up and Bruce is, in truth, a weak man. Their outfits spend more cumulative time on the bedroom floor than on their bodies. 

The moon lays a quiet blessing on the master bedroom once they’ve finished, bathing everything a cool silver. Bruce’s bed had always felt too big for sleep—he took any excuse he could to curl up on a couch or in the cave—but for them, it’s perfect. There’s no telling where one of them ends or begins, just limbs tangled in content fondness. 

“Who’s your favorite? Me or Diana?” Clark whispers teasingly. A chuckle rumbles low in Bruce’s chest.

“Diana.” Bruce cracks open one eye to drink in the glory of Clark’s offended face. Diana rewards him a hot, languid trail of kisses to the underside of his jaw.  

“Bruce, look at his face. How could he not be your favorite?” Diana tilts Bruce’s chin in Clark’s direction. 

“I thought you’d be flattered.” Bruce huffs. “Fine, Clark’s my favorite.”

“Bruce. C’mon.” Clark adds another love bite to the growing collection on his collarbone. “Just look at Diana.” 

“I am getting very mixed signals here,” Bruce gasps softly, clenching his fingers in the sheets. Clark’s kisses grow light and insistent. 

“Clark.” Bruce fights tooth and nail against the smile trying to fight its way onto his face. Goosebumps flare across his chest. Clark nibbles a little and Bruce twitches. 

“Yes?” He blinks innocently. 

“Don’t ruin this.” Bruce squishes his cheeks threateningly. Clark dives to nuzzle Bruce’s neck, scooping him up into his arms. Tired and shmoopy, Bruce giggles and reaches for Diana. She props herself up on her elbow, amused, and gives him her hand. 

“What?” Bruce snickers, flinching away from Clark’s deadly lips. 

“Just taking all this in. I’m meeting this version of you for the first time.” Diana hums. 

“I think Giggly Bruce is my favorite.” Clark peppers more kisses, the endless fount of affection that he is. 

“That’s not—there’s no—stoppit—“ Bruce curls in on himself. Clark wiggles his fingers into Bruce’s stomach and chases his blushing neck with his lips. 

“I agree, Kal.” The name catches beautifully on Diana’s tongue. Evidently, Clark seems to agree—he peeks over Bruce’s shoulder with a radiant smile. 

“Can I convince you two to at least try and sleep?” Bruce huffs, scratchy and fond. Diana hums and slides closer, tucking herself into Bruce’s chest. He skims his fingers across her back in gentle patterns. 

Quiet blooms in the room as their breathing starts to sync. The weight of Clark’s arm is as much a comfort as Diana’s breath against his skin. Bruce thinks, distantly, that he might like to fall asleep like this every night. 

“Di, c’mon—“ Clark snickers, then giggles. 

“You’re both terrible at this.” Bruce turns over to squint at Clark. Clark can’t even look at him—his entire being is scrunched in restrained laughter as he slaps Diana’s tickling hand away from his hip.

Bruce slowly turns to the other menace in his bed. Diana just shrugs. 

Bruce flops back down on the bed and actually manages to doze off, lured into floating sleep by the gentle rumble of Clark’s chest. This means he’s completely blindsided when the morning renews his partners’ unending playfulness, but safe arms to sleep in are well worth the sacrifice. 

[wh0refornikolailantsov]

Everyone's Fate Is Up To The Saints, Except Hers - Tolya Yul-Bataar

Prompt: “If you wish to keep your fingers, I’d take your hands off her.”

Warnings: Canon Compliant Threat

This is really just a drabble but what can ya do.

Not proofread because "no beta we die like men"

Had anyone asked, Tolya would have made it very clear that he 'never doubted her for a moment', that 'her capability was easily beyond that of the task at hand' and he knew, given the opportunity, 'she would've likely taken it on alone'. But Sturmhond, in a brief moment of clear insight, had drawn the conclusion that Tolya would have been very little help carrying out his duties if his mind had been following someone out on the mission. Waiting, wondering and worrying were three things not very conducive with carrying out duties to their requirement. So Sturmhond sent the both of them. No one questioned him, everyone else because he is the captain, but Tamar because she held the same knowledge that Sturmhond had based his call on: her twin for all his openness and cheer, was not letting on quite how deep the river of his care flowed when it came to one particular crewmate.

The she in question, had picked up a pace while Tolya had been somewhat lost in his thoughts.

"Falling behind there sesh?" You ask, turning around with a wicked grin, continuing to walk in the direction you both were headed, but now watching Tolya instead of the path. Walking backwards was something you had gotten very good at with the years of sword training, if you lean to step back with balance enough times, learning to follow the pattern is easy. Yet now, it was certainly more to show off than for practical use.

"You're still not using that correctly," Tolya smiled, an abundance of laughter in his voice. His shadow was being cast by a far off light and the distance made the silhouette looking deceivingly small, compared to the reality. Tolya was just as tall as he was handsome, which is to say more so than anyone really hard the right to be.

"Well if you gave in and told me the word I am looking for," you tease, the sentence hung in the air, feeling unfinished and incomplete. But the years have taught Tolya that sometimes you spoke in half, and it was up to the one hearing the words to decide if it was their turn.

"I will not teach you words in Shu just so you can mock me," he means the words he is saying but his tone is far from mean.

"I'm not mocking you," you defend. "I'm attempting to describe you."

"Describe me in your own language," he pulls his graze away, hoping that maybe if he stops staring, you might start looking where you're going, but to no avail.

"So you'll read me poetry in a language I do not know, but you shall not teach it to me?"

"Not when I know your interest lies in different intent, if you wish to understand the poem I'll happily explain it-" he is suddenly silence by a quiet and quick whistle, a signal that stops him in his tracks.

You look on edge, looking around the dim lit street with such concentration and apprehension that Tolya notices how small it makes you look, the fear. He isn't used to seeing you look afraid.

"Sorry," you say pulling yourself back in, raning it back and composing yourself. "I didn't mean to interrupt you when it's about poetry."

"I don't take it personally," he says. "You know Tamar well enough."

"Exactly, I try to let you talk about it as much as possible when there is no one to tell you to stop," the comment is offhand and absentminded, you hadn't meant much by it. It was a truth, and you did not choose to shy from the truth often, but it wasn't something you had meant to declare in any kind of way. Yet the look in Tolya's eyes makes you run the words back, trying to find the secret of the universe, the strangely powerful compliment that had to be hidden in the words you'd spoken without a second thought.

"Thank you," he says, his voice so soft, it hits like whisper.

"There's no need, there are few ways to show someone how you matter to them, and this is mine," if you had to break it down, the moments before, the reasons that this moment unfolds, you could lay out each factor in pieces. The light being so low. The quietness being so rare that sound is a welcome visitor and therefore can lull into a false sense of security. Maybe even your own foolishness, having not turned around despite your previous scare. But if you were honest with yourself, truly honest, it was not your ego or your environment that betrayed you in this small moment. It was your heart. Had you not been searching for something tangible in the unspoken distance between the two of you, there was no way someone could have gotten close enough to place a blade into the small of your back before you reached for your weapon.

"I wouldn't try it," the blade is pushed closer as you move for the weapon, the voice is dark and quiet, but the accent isn't from around here, and there's a gruffness that shows the man's age.

"I am guessing you are exactly who we are looking for," you reply. Tolya reached for his own blade the moment the assailant had stepped out of the dark, he holds it tight and his eyes are fixed over your shoulder. "We aren't here for a fight."

"Tell that to your friend," the man replies.

"Tolya," you say calmly. Tolya is reasonable, Tolya is smart and above all Tolya knows better than most, much better than his twin, when there's not a need for a fight. But he doesn't look willing to backdown.

"Perhaps I might be more inclined to step down if you remove the blade from my friends back," Tolya says slowly.

A hand grips your shoulder tight, and the blade moves from your spine to your side. A much more defendable position, but a still a threat. "Better?" The man asks.

"If you wish to keep your fingers, I’d take your hands off her.”

You watch him and your heart, against your practiced calm, races in your chest and his eyes flicker to meet yours. It dawns on you why he hasn't calmed the situation, why he is defensive and not quite like his normal self. He senses your confusion, your fear and he is not used to that in you. He isn't paying attention to the man's heartbeat or his emotions because he is still fixed on you. And that realisation makes your heart jump in a way you should know better than to let it do, and Tolya feels it. "He won't repeat himself," you tell the man, and he drops the blade to his side. "We were sent to get you, alive was the preference."

"Who sent you?" The man asks.

"Sturmhond," Tolya explains, listening to his heart now, sensing the fear, the anger, the loss. "We are here to help." Tolya's expression softens, he has been in the world and really seen enough of it to know that there's danger in the most unexpecting of places, but one of the many things about him that is never unsurprising, is how he still sees the opportunity for kindness and grace amongst them.

Sturmhond stares at the two of them and is quick to dismiss Tolya, who walks out on the deck and is soon shoulder to shoulder with Tamar.

"You seem tense brother," she muses, eager to hear what had happened.

"I shouldn't have gone," he thinks aloud. Tamar frowns.

"How did you come to that ridiculous conclusion?" She asks, pulling at a piece of the bread she is eating.

"Because it was my presence that made her vulnerable," he explains. "She was scared, I've not seen her scared before."

"Are you sure it was fear, and not anxiety?" Tamar asks nonchalantly. "Besides, Everyone's fate is up to the saints, is it not?"

"Not hers," Tolya says without pausing to think. Tamar gives him a side glance and he shoves her shoulder.

"Not hers?" Tamar echoes. "Not if you can help it."

[another-lost-mc]

a/n: had a few different prompts for what he would be like as a partner and nesting so I'm combining them here. <3

➤ boyfriend material: karasu | headcanons

0.5k words | sfw | gn!reader | fluff and domestic bliss

— He wants to help you achieve whatever goals or ambitions you have, and he'll do anything he can to support you.

— Do you wan to pursue a lucrative career? Do you want to work part-time? Do you want to focus on your hobbies instead of working? He trusts you to choose the path that will make you happy, and he'll be there every step of the way.

— Never feel guilty about doing what you think is best for you—he wants to take care of you and provide for you.

— His nest is your nest now too. It's important to him that you feel safe and comfortable and relaxed when you're there.

— He's used to doing all the domestic chores himself, so he's not afraid of doing his fair share to keep things neat and tidy. He doesn't want you to be overwhelmed.

— He's not a bad cook but he eats a lot of the same meals which might get boring for you quickly. Shopping together at the market, learning new recipes while you cook together...those are the little moments of domestic bliss he craves with you.

— His sense of décor is utilitarian and functional, but he's happy to let you pick out new furniture or paint colours or linens. He wants you to make his nest your home. Even when you're not there, it'll feel warm and comforting, the same way he feels when he's with you.

— He chooses to work from home more often so that he can spend more time with you. There's a comfortable lounge chair in his office if you want to relax and keep him company.

— The unused guest room near his office is yours to use for your own workspace or hobby room. He wants you to have somewhere you can go if you feel overwhelmed or want alone time. He respects your space and privacy.

— He customizes your D.D.D. notifications so you have access to his schedule. If you have trouble with remembering important dates or appointments or setting alarms, he'll help you with those too.

— He actually thinks it's cute and kind of fun when you send him text messages even if he's home with you. He's also the sort to leave little sticky notes (with hand-drawn hearts or I love you's) around the nest for you to find throughout the day.

— He learns that even the most mundane tasks are more enjoyable when he can do them with you. He might poke your nose with soapy water when he does dishes, or he'll hug you from behind while you're standing at the counter. He's more playful because your delighted reactions are so satisfying.

— If you're too tired or feeling unwell, he never wants you to feel guilty or like you're a burden. He's never been happier, and being your mate is a privilege he is truly grateful for.

[raccoonfallsharder]

recommended works ⊹˚₊⊹˚☕︎˚⊹₊˚⊹

these are the folks who have written or drawn something (specifically within the rocket raccoon fan community) that either murdered me, resurrected me, or both.

(i am always open to recs so if you wanna link me to your fave i will be so happy to check them out)

⊹˚₊⊹˚☕︎ fanfiction ☕︎˚⊹₊˚⊹

The All of You (ao3) i fuckin love this story so hard. i love the OC. i love the writing. i love the set up. i reread this probably every month or so and pine for more. it's so fuckin good. @lazarel-3000 is a double-threat (at least) who is also on my recced artist list, which means (obviously) they are a recced creator as well.

Casino Royale (ao3) this fic by @hibatasblog (see also: Entanglement, below) is so fucking delightful. petra quill is so hot i want to date her myself, and the tension between her and rocket is through the roof. loving the angst, loving the little ways that heartbreak seeps through every new paragraph, loving the mystery of trying to figure out what happened to petra and rocket to set them on their separate paths and now bring them back together. always waiting anxiously for the next chapter.

Entanglement (ao3) this fic by @hibataao3 has me rationing my consumption in a way i have not done in a long time. i'm like "i only read one chapter a week to pace myself, as a little treat for surviving another seven days." beautiful writing and intricate storytelling, the metaphors and analogies are so good i almost wish i was back in undergrad writing a thesis on it.

Friends (tumblr) @nyxivy is making their way through the rocketober 2023 prompts and the first fic of the series is. so drool-worthy. i've probably read it fifty times since it came out. short and so hot i could die (much like rocket himself), and somehow incredibly sweet in just the span of a few paragraphs? i will continue coming back to this fic and look forward to more from them at every chance i get.

Get Up (tumblr)@caesarhamato22 is another person on my recced creator list because trying to find just one fic to call my "favorite" is a challenge (obviously i was unsuccessful because there are two on this list). anyway this is lovely and fluffy. i die.

last (friday) night (ao3) nsfw. trying to pick a "favorite" of @aliasrocket's work is like trying to choose a favorite incarnation of rocket (i cannot). guess who is also on my recced creators list.

more than seven (tumblr) second @caesarhamato22 fic on this list and another recced creator. this one is one of my favorite comfort fics (i mean it's still sexy as hell) that i come back to very often. like it's just so wonderful and sweet and perfect and atmospheric and vibes

stars. (tumblr) ☕︎ stars. (ao3) sexual tension & some of the loveliest atmospheric writing i've ever consumed. another @aliasrocket fic that lives in my head.

A Very Basic Instinct (tumblr) ☕︎ A Very Basic Instinct (ao3) nsfw. when i tell you this fic did things to me. it is probably one of the fics i reread most. like, all the time jkjk only semiregularly. check out the author @elegant-fleuret for other equally brainrot-inducing smut (also mentioned in my recced creators).

⊹˚₊⊹˚☕︎ art ☕︎˚⊹₊˚⊹

@bathmob i wish. i could draw rocket. like this. the vibes are so good. the style. is perfect. i thank the universe whenever i see new art from them.

@glow-autumz is absolutely going to be a published comic artist some day and i will buy anything she works on ever. literally everything she creates has a story behind it, which i love. like, not only are her illustrations gorgeous (and like…often very hot) but every single one is (at least) a single-panel narrative. plus her OC is also cool as hell and i love her interpretations of rocket.

@lazarel-3000 creates the most toe-curlingly delicious art i've seen in a long time. i am seduced by pretty much everything they create. even their rough drafts have me panting. (i also have a crush on their OC and as a bi-lady i look at their art and am often like oh shit this is a fuckin feast). as mentioned before, this artist is also the author of one of my favorite fics and is a recommended creator in general.

@uglly-rodent posts always make me want to pinch the babby raccoom's cheeks and/or cry.

⊹˚₊⊹˚☕︎ creators ☕︎˚⊹₊˚⊹

@aliasrocket writes such beautiful things it is impossible to pick a favorite (i got two of their fics in the fic section and it was difficult to narrow it down that far and even now, i'm not certain). their tumblr has the added advantage of a ton of drabbles, every single one of which is perfection.

@caesarhamato22 read everything. like everything. great smut but i am a sucker for the slice of life shit and it's so fuckin good here. i just wanna be a nail tech on knowhere/locked in a closet with rocket/have him steal my t-shirt/whatever. it's like all my most domestic desires got turned into little fanfiction dreams. so much wish fulfillment i could die

@elegant-fleuret has great fanfiction (more than just the one on my fic list - i just felt like i had to narrow it down and A Very Basic Instinct literally gives me a a fresh hit of dopamine every time i reread it, which is a lot). plus also art. double-threat.

@evolvingchaoswitch writes with a ton of vulnerability and rawness and angst. i am also in love with the shorter pieces they've been putting out for rocketober 2023 (some really great poetry, some really emotional oneshots, some really hot oneshots). plus their OCs always fuckin rock

@lazarel-3000 look. look. i cannot say this enough. please go check them out they are hope in a hopeless place. some of the sexiest art + one of my very favorite fanfictions + one of my very favorite OCs have come out of this flawless individual. (full disclosure they also did some nsfw art of my OC jolie and rocket that has me crying and dying and hyperventilating on a daily basis)

@love-for-faeries-go-burrrr has another one of my favorite OCs and i am always hungry for their little storylines whenever they post.

@mrwolfhare is one of my favorite sources of gotg food-for-thought. just some of the most thoughtful explorations of the details of both the mcu and comic canon, excellent headcanons, beautiful screenshot sets, and really solid art. the drawtober art and ficlets have been highlights in my days this month and i'm told there may be a rad fanfiction on the horizon so keep your eyes on this! (rad fanfiction is here now! read Subject 880HR on ao3)

[theresattrpgforthat]

What's a game/some games you wish you could talk about more?

THEME: Mint’s Favourite Games. (Part 1/2)

Dear friend, I do not know if you know how much pain this causes me because…there are so many games! Games I’ve run, games I haven’t run, games I’ve purchased, games I want to buy… narrowing it down is so so hard. It’s like asking to choose which child is your favourite. So first things first I’m going to drop a link to the Games that Intrigue Me collection that I’ve been fostering on Itch, because that’s where you’re going to see games that I really really want to talk about and play in the future. (There are currently 148 games in there, and that’s just what’s available on Itch!!!) With that out of the way, let’s talk about some of my highlights.

There are 12 games in total that I managed to narrow it down to, so let's take a look at the first 6!

Changeling: the Lost 1e, by White Wolf / Onyx Path (Played)

The most trad game on this list, Changeling: The Lost was the reason I stepped into roleplaying games. It was advertised as a fantastical allegory for healing from trauma, which is exactly the kind of hard-hitting, emotional depth that got me interested when it came to roleplaying games. One of my favourite ways to sell it is to tell you this:

Imagine your favourite piece of media and pick a particular character from that media. Now imagine that the entire story that this character experienced was a lie: a story they were put in, in order to fulfill the whims and wiles of an inhuman, eldritch Fae. Now imagine them clawing their way back into the real world only to find out that nobody missed them, that their parents and girlfriend never realized that they left because the thing that took them left behind a shell of a copy. What’s more, they still feel the pull of the magical world - they can’t forget it, even if they want to. How do you heal from a magic that you can never leave behind?

Changeling: The Lost has a lot of drawbacks. It’s clunky. It requires an unhealthy amount of d10s. It’s got two editions, and most folks prefer the one edition over the other. It requires a lot of prep. The “beautiful madness” can definitely lead into some negative stereotypes about mental health (which is why I recommend re-working the Clarity mechanic into a mechanic about how trauma affects your emotions). White Wolf cannot write a fucking index. But the combination of personal horror with the glitter around the edges has got me in a choke-hold and I don’t know how to let it go.

Bones Deep, by Technical Grimoire. (Played)

I cannot emphasize how well-formatted Bones Deep is. The bookmarking on the PDF for this game is the best I’ve ever seen, and I’m an avid player of Numenera. This is a Troika game about freshly-hatched skeletons travelling the ocean floor, tussling with a cephalopod invasion, cursed wizards, a crab cabal, and the Skeleton War. Each location in this book can naturally lead to others, and there’s roll tables that allow for you to generate a number of story prompts before you run a session. It’s heavily improv friendly, and allows combat but so much more than that.

You need the Troika handbook to run this game, but honestly, Troika is such a great, gonzo system that I don’t even consider that a drawback, especially because the Skeleton characters from Bones Deep are 100% compatible with the larger game as a whole. I’m not going to say that this is a combat-free game, because it certainly isn’t, but I was surprised at how many problems the players could solve without having to resort to combat

External Containment Bureau, by Mythic Gazetteer. (Played)

This game introduced me to the concept of an open-ended mystery that the players kind of put together as they play. The idea of leaving a few possibilities for a whodunit is not exactly new, and ECB is definitely not the first game to embrace a generative style of play, but it implements it very very well. This is an adaptation of Forged-in-the-Dark that speeds up character creation and makes one-shot play more viable than some of the traditional hacks of Blades. The setting also fucking slaps. Its X-Files meets SCP meets the Office. It has the ability to alter how serious or goofy you want the tone to be. It has mechanics for supernatural powers and drawn-out conspiracies.

It also has a cult-flavoured hack called Congregation, which is just as good and you should also check out.

Subway Runners, by Gem Room Games. (Played)

A hella-fast game with a character generator that lets you pick up and play in minutes, Subway Runners is extremely online friendly, extremely reasonably priced, and extremely funny. You’re subway maintenance crews dealing with magical problems in the underground of a fantastical metropolis. It’s a gig economy. It’s got stations built out of buried giants. It’s got traumas like “nervous”, “romantic” and “brave to a fault”. It’s one-shot Forged-In-The-Dark.

Your online-generated character sheet reads like a Contractor File, complete with side hustles, custom inventories, your Lunch Order and your Demerits. Fix train lines, find missing passengers, and send eldritch monstrosities back into the inter dimensional portals from whence they came. All so you can pay rent. This game is off-the-wall and it’s only three fucking dollars. Please, I’m begging you to check out this game.

Slugblaster, by Mikey Hamm. (Bought, not yet played).

I was so excited for this game that I managed to get on the proofreading team! And gosh I am stoked about that. This is another Forged-in-the-Dark game (I think I’m sensing a theme here), this time about teenagers hoverboarding through the multiverse. This game is so kooky and has such a unique take on FitD, with mechanics that really emulate the idea of cobbling together gear and tech to make your kit personalized. It’s a game wholly about teenage self-expression and self-discovery, in a world that's doing its best to limit your independence.

The layout for this game is also wonderfully fun and evocative. It’s brightly-coloured, with contributions from around the world, and suggestions for playing in towns other than Hillview, Canada (although as a Canadian I am also deeply fond of the built-in setting). I wrote an add-on for this game, called Charlock, and you can get it, as well as a whole bundle of goodies in the Slugblasting for Teen Mental Health Bundle here, until the end of July!!!!

i’m sorry did you say street magic, by Caro Ascersion. (Played)

This is a city-building game that I adore playing as a set-up to a one-shot or a campaign. I’ve used it to create a superhero city, as well as a Ghibli-inspired city, and there are resources for making gothic cities, cyberpunk cities, and so so much more. There’s a supplement that I adore called there are names here more powerful than our own, which is pay-what-you-want but makes play more accessible for folks who have trouble coming up with ideas on the spot.

The art for these games is by Shannon Kao, and it’s whimsically mundane. It perfectly communicates the vibe of play. The city generation helps you create neighbourhoods, as well as landmarks and characters located in those neighbourhoods, but it doesn’t stop there. It also helps you generate story hooks that you could pick up for an upcoming game. Finally, the mutual element of creation gives players ownership and investment in the city they create, so when it comes to character creation, you should find that the players will easily be able to anchor themselves in the world.

If you want to hear an example of this game, I recommend @partyofonepod ’s episode, which was recorded with the creator of the game.

You can find Part 2 of this post here!