#but that is not what i was trying to do at all and i apologise if it comes off that way

[aquaticmercy]

Full Throttle

Summary : Bucky thinks he hooked up with a really pretty mechanic. 

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x motorcycle racer!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : cursing. Sex is implied. Bucky on a motorcycle. Purely self-indulgent fic.

Word count : 3.9k

Note : reader is a MotoGP rider! I’m still reeling from the championship battle last week that I just needed to write this. Also I apologise for everyone who wasn’t tagged in waste a moment! I lost half my notes and I’ve been trying to recover it. Hopefully it’ll be resolved by tomorrow. Enjoy!

Bucky Barnes wasn’t just drawn to motorcycles because they were fast or dangerous— at least not entirely. 

He loved them because of the freedom they gave him, the sense of control when everything else in his life felt it had spiralled into oblivion. Riding demanded focus and precision—all the things he’d spent the last couple of years training. 

When he was on his bike, the world faded away. There was only the hum of the engine, the wind in his hair, and the open road.

And sure, being on the road was fun, but sometimes, all he wanted was a challenge.

That’s when he found the dirt track in the edge of town— a place where he could train for missions that called for high-speed chases— a place he could lose himself for a while. 

It was something fun to do once in a while, you know? Sam would call this a hobby.

The roar of engines and the earthy tang of kicked-up dirt felt like home. In a way, it was strangely meditative. It reminded him of what it felt like to be human— to push himself to the limit, to make mistakes and learn.

Every Tuesday, after training, he came to the track. 

And every Tuesday, so did you.

The first time he saw you, Bucky had to do a double take. You were standing by your bike, helmet tucked under one arm, dirt streaked across your padded leather jacket.

Bucky was no stranger to beautiful people, but there was something about you that struck him differently— maybe it was the confidence in the way you carried yourself or the fire in your eyes when you looked his way. Either way, he was floored.

At first, he figured you were just another skilled rider trying to forget the world. That it was just a hobby, like it was to him. But as the weeks went on, you realised this was your life. 

It must be.

The way you rode was… incredible. Every turn was sharp, calculated. Precise. 

And despite your obvious talent, you never made a big deal about it. Just like you never made a big deal out of the fact that he was the fucking Winter Soldier. 

Of course, you knew who he was—he’d caught the occasional glint of recognition in your eyes. But you never brought it up, never asked for autographs or photos. Instead, you treated him like just another guy at the track.

That didn’t mean you didn’t flirt, though.

Every now and then, you’d throw him a cheeky grin. You’d playfully tell him things like, “Nice lap, soldier,” and Bucky would just blush (which you found adorable, of course).

He would always try to laugh it off, but the truth was, your teasing left his heart racing faster than his bike ever could.

—

Bucky had been working up the nerve for weeks, and today, he thought he would finally bite the bullet. 

Today he was going to ask you out. 

You were wiping the sweat from your brow when he leaned casually against his bike, trying to look more confident than he felt.

“You’re always here on a Tuesday,” he said, before mentally groaning at himself

What the fuck was that? He thought. Is Always here on a Tuesday really the best flirty opening line he had? It was not even an open-ended question. It was just an observation. Nice one, Barnes.

But instead of brushing him off, you paused, setting your gloves down with an amused spark lighting up in your eyes. “Could say the same for you, Barnes.” You tilted your head and gave a casual shrug, acting as if having a stunning super soldier gawking over you wasn’t flattering. “You stalking me?”

The corner of his lips curved upward, the nervous tension melting away ever so slightly. “Maybe I just like the view.”

That earned him a smirk. You let your eyes descend over him—his dark hair falling in perfect disarray, his shirt clinging to his chest under his jacket. “Sure,” you teased. 

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “Maybe I’ve got a good reason to show up.”

“Oh?” you asked, stepping closer, tossing your helmet onto your bike seat with a little dramatic flair. “Don’t tell me the Winter Soldier needs more practice catching bad guys on a bike. Thought you had that down.”

“Yeah, well,” he drawled, letting his gaze linger on you. “Never hurts to train. Especially when there’s someone like you around to keep me humble.”

“Humble?” You quirked an eyebrow, folding your arms as you leaned a hip against the leather seat of the bike. “Looked pretty cocky last week, pulling that stunt to take down the bad guy.”

He blinked, genuinely surprised. “You saw that?”

It had been a theft— some guy thought he could steal experimental weapons from an old Stark warehouse and get away with it. Not his cleanest chase, but he did the job.

“Please, it was all over the news. Did you not see the four helicopters following the chase?” you said, a mischievous glint in your eye. “I gotta say, you’re not bad, Barnes.”

“Not bad?” he echoed, feigning offence.

You leaned in just a little, dropping your voice. “I’ve seen smoother turns. If you want pointers, I could teach you a thing or two.”

His lips parted, but no words came out for a moment as he processed how close you were. “You offering lessons now?”

You laughed before gesturing at his bike. 

This was his dirt bike, a recreational bike— not the one he used for the chase last week. Still, it could use a bit of… fine tuning. 

“Tell you what, soldier,” you said, “Fix that lag in your throttle response first. Then I’ll teach you a thing or two about taking corners.”

Bucky tilted his head, narrowing his eyes “There’s nothing wrong with my throttle response.”

“Oh, honey,” you purred, stepping just close enough for your shoulder to brush his. “I could hear it lagging from halfway across the track.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. 

“You saying I need a tune-up?”

“I’m saying,” you said, your voice like velvet, “that if you wanna keep up, you’re gonna need a better setup.”

He couldn’t help the grin tugging at his lips. He still didn’t have the guts to ask you out that day, but he walked away with hope, that maybe, this could grow into something more.

—

“So, you gonna tell me why you’ve been walking around with that goofy smile lately?” Sam asked, leaning back in his chair with a knowing look.

“What smile?” Bucky muttered, immediately defensive.

“The one you think nobody notices,” he shrugged. “Spill it, Buck. What’s her name?”

Bucky hesitated, running a hand through his hair. He hadn’t planned to tell anyone about his little crush. least of all Sam, but the look on his friend’s face said he wasn’t getting out of this conversation.

“Fine,” he said, exhaling. “There’s this girl.”

Sam grinned. 

“She goes to the dirt track I go to every Tuesday,” Bucky said, staring at the bottle in his hands like it held the secret to not sounding like a lovesick idiot as he told him all about you. 

—

From then on, Tuesdays became his favourite day of the week.

Bucky found himself counting down the hours until he could see you again, his mind replaying every smile, every laugh, every teasing touch.

You became bolder, not afraid of calling him handsome, of touching his arm even if it wasn’t necessary. 

And damn it if didn’t make his heart race.

One evening, after a particularly thrilling session on the track, Bucky decided he’d had enough of dancing around what he wanted. 

Leaning casually against his handlebars, he called out, “Race me.”

You looked up, one eyebrow raising in surprise. “What’s in it for me?” you asked, folding your arms and tilting your head in that way that always made his stomach flip.

“If you win,” he started, “you get bragging rights for a week.”

“A week, huh?” You repeated dramatically, “and if you win?”

Bucky’s lips curled into a slow grin, trying to appear confident even though his heart was pounding in his chest. “I get your number.”

Your giggle rang out, bright and sweet, and for a second, Bucky forgot how to breathe. “You got yourself a deal, soldier,” you said, shaking your head. 

—

The two of you lined up at the start of the track, engines growling. 

Bucky’s focus sharpened—he wasn’t just racing for pride; he was racing for the chance to finally take a step toward something he had wanted for months now. 

When the signal came, you both shot off like bullets, dirt kicking up in clouds behind your tires. Bucky pushed his bike to the limit, leaning into every corner, his muscles strained with effort, grappling the dirt bike for control. But no matter how fast he went, he couldn’t shake the feeling that you were holding back. 

You were supposed to be faster, more precise than this sloppy performance you were giving. He’d seen you before. What happened?

As you neared the final stretch, you slowed, just enough for him to surge ahead and cross the finish line first. 

He skidded to a stop, panting and exhilarated, but the smug grin on your face told him everything he needed to know.

When you walked over later and handed him a scrap of paper with your number scrawled on it, you leaned in close enough for him to catch the faint scent of sweat and motor oil. “You won it fair and square,” you said.

Bucky narrowed his eyes, his lips twitching with a grin he couldn’t suppress. “You let me win.”

“How dare you accuse me of such a thing,” you feigned innocence, but couldn’t help the grin widening on your face.

He tucked the paper into his pocket, shaking his head.

As you put on your helmet back on, you casually remarked, “Throttle’s still lagging, by the way.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Bucky groaned, pretending to be annoyed. Secretly, he was thrilled to keep the conversation going. “I think it’s the fuel filter, but I haven’t had time to swap it out.”

“I’ve got one at my place,” you told him, turning on your engine, “Why don’t you come by?”

His head snapped up, surprised at the offer. “Now?”

“Why not?” 

—

When arrived at your place, he had braced himself for something simple—a cosy apartment, maybe a small cluttered corner dedicated to your bike tools. 

What he hadn’t expected was this.

Standing in the doorway, he blinked at the modern yet homey design laid out before him. The floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the space in golden evening light, reflecting off polished floors and expensive-looking furniture. The view of the city stretched out like a postcard behind you as you stood, arms crossed, watching him with a hint of amusement.

“This… is your apartment?” he asked, taking a step inside. His greasy leather jacket suddenly felt so out of place. His gaze darted over to a marble countertop in the kitchen, a plush couch, and then the walls— lined with the kind of art he’s only seen in high society auctions.

You tilted your head, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “Not what you expected, Barnes?”

He huffed a soft laugh. “Not really…”

“Ah,” you replied, moving toward a door off the main living area. “So just because I work with bikes, I can’t have nice things?”

“I didn’t say that,” he countered quickly, following you.

You threw a sly glance over your shoulder. “Didn’t have to.”

He tried to think of a witty response, but he was distracted by the thought of you—the way you moved, confident and unbothered, like you belonged in every room you entered.

You led him to a heavy door and pushed it open, revealing a contrast to the rest of the apartment— your workshop.

The workshop smelled like oil, grease, and faintly of rubber, the air swirling with the comforting scent of metal and machinery. The walls were lined with shelves holding neatly organised tools, spare parts, and bottles of lubricants. A stripped-down high-performance bike stood at the centre of the room, its engine exposed, wires and cables hanging loose. 

Now this room, he thought, was undoubtedly you.

“This is more like it,” he murmured, his lips curving into a faint smile.

“See?” You smirked, moving to grab the replacement part he needed. “I’m not as fancy as you think.”

After pulling his bike through the back, he leaned against the wall, watching as you crouch next to his bike and get to work. 

For a moment, he was quiet.

He watched in silence— the way your hands moved with precision, the way you were entirely in your element. 

“So,” you began, glancing up at him. “What’s the Winter Soldier doing on a dirt track every Tuesday, anyway? Don’t you have, I don’t know, a world to save?”

He chuckled, folding his arms across his chest. “The world can wait.”

You laughed softly, returning your focus to the filter. 

“I get it, kind of,” you replied, loosening a bolt. “Wanting to get away from everything.”

From then on, the conversation came effortlessly. 

At first, he kept it light, sticking to anecdotes about the track or the occasional joke about his less-than-smooth bike handling in the beginning. But there was something about the way you listened—your easy, genuine curiosity—that made him feel safe, like he didn’t have to keep everything locked away anymore.

At one point, he couldn’t help but ask how someone who worked with bikes could afford a place like this. You only shrugged with a smile, giving the same answer you always did: “I got lucky.” He didn’t press, though he was curious—the ease in which you sidestepped the question intrigued him.

Before long, the conversation drifted again. He found himself sharing more than he ever thought he would. He told you about his missions, the chaos of his Winter Soldier days, the things he’d done and the memories he was still piecing together. 

And you listened—not with pity, but with an understanding that felt rare, even among the people he called friends.

“You’re good at this,” he finally said. 

“Bikes?”

“People,” he admitted, his eyes flicking to yours.

“Well, bikes are like people,” You tilted your head, studying him with a small, curious smile. “Both require care, attention, and understanding to perform at their best.”

When you finally finished, you stood, wiping your hands on a cloth. “All set,” you said, gesturing toward his bike. 

“Thank you.” he said, though he made no move to leave. Instead, he lingered, his eyes on you as you leaned back against the counter.

“So,” you said, breaking the thick silence, your voice dipping into something almost playful. “You gonna stick around, or do you have somewhere to be?”

“Nowhere important,” he admitted quietly.

He took a step closer, then another.

The space separating you seemed to dissolve, his eyes locked on yours, pulling you in like gravity.

“Careful,” you murmured, teasing. “I might think you’re stalling just to spend more time with me.”

His lips curved into a faint, almost shy smile. “And if I am?”

The words hit you like a shot of adrenaline, your heart beating out of your chest. There was no humour in his tone, no hint of the usual back-and-forth banter that had defined so many of your conversations. Just desire staring back at you.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely audible. “I wouldn’t mind.”

He was close now, so close you could feel the heat rolling off him, his metal hand brushing against the counter as he leaned in.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice rough, a low growl in his throat. He cupped your jawline, mustering all the courage she could possibly gather. 

You didn’t.

Instead, your lips parted in anticipation as he leaned in. Unable to bear it any longer, you tilted your head up, meeting him halfway.

The first press of his lips against yours was gentle, and the second was anything but. The restraint shattered immediately, giving way to something feral. His hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair as he pulled you closer, his lips moving with a hunger that’s been brewing since he first saw you on the track.

Your hands found his chest, sliding up to his shoulders, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. You tugged him closer, your chest pressing against his. He let out a low moan that sent a shiver down your spine.

When you finally broke apart for air, your foreheads rested together, your breaths mixing in the narrow space between you. His voice was husky, as if he was still recovering. “I should really take you out on a date first.”

You let out a shaky laugh, your hands still fisted in his shirt. “You can still do that.”

His lips brushed yours again. “Aren’t you trouble?”

“You love it,” you whispered, grinning wickedly as you pulled him back in.

The next kiss was hotter, hungrier—  it consumed you both. His hands slid to your waist, gripping you firmly as he backed you out of the workshop and into the apartment. 

Your movements were uncoordinated, messy, your lips never leaving his as you stumbled against walls, furniture, and whatever else got in the way.

By the time you reached the bedroom, nothing else mattered.

—

Bucky woke to the soft light peeking through your curtains.

The scent of coffee reached him first. When he stumbled out of your bedroom, he spotted you at the marble kitchen counter, leaning on your elbows with a steaming mug in hand. You were dressed in one of your oversized shirts— and looked far too innocent for all the filthy things you did to him last night.

“Mornin’ doll,” he greeted  as he sat across from you.

“Morning,” you chuckled at his adorable tousled hair. 

“So…” he started, his voice thick with sleep, “about that date…”

You smirked, setting your mug down and sauntered around the island kitchen. “Thought you’d never ask.”

“Sunday?” he offered, watching you with a lazy smile as you perched on the stool next to his.

You shook your head, “I work weekends.”

That caught him off guard, but he didn’t let it show. “Remind me what exactly it is you do?”

“Bikes,” you said simply, the corner of your mouth twitching like you were holding back sensitive information.

He chuckled, assuming you were talking about your mechanic work. “Fair.”

You hummed, but the mischievous glint in your eyes didn’t escape him.

He tilted his head, curiosity tugging at the edge of his thoughts, but he decided not to push. You’d tell him when you wanted to. Instead, he flashed a small grin. “I’ll text you to arrange something, then.”

“You better,” you teased, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “You won my number, Barnes. Don’t make me regret giving it to you. 

The challenge in your tone made his smirk widen, his hand slipping around your waist to pull you closer. “Oh, I won’t.”

—

That Sunday, Bucky was slouched on Sam’s couch, one leg kicked over the side of the coffee table, a book resting on his chest. Sam, on the other hand, was waging war with the TV remote, flipping through channels at record speeds.

“Just pick something already,” Bucky grumbled without looking up.

Sam rolled his eyes, ignoring him. 

“Oh, MotoGP’s on,” he said suddenly, tossing the remote aside.

Bucky didn’t even glance at the screen at first, the low growl of engines and the commentator’s frantic observation was little more than background noise. But something about the sheer speed on display tugged at his attention. He finally looked up— and when he did, he could not take his eyes off the screen.

The camera focused on a Ducati weaving through the pack with a relentlessness that looked… familiar. The rider’s movements were fluid, each turn carved with precision, every overtake risky but calculated.

“Holy shit,” Sam muttered, leaning forward. Sam wasn’t the biggest fan— but he did watch these races from time to time. It always intrigued him, the danger they willingly took to win a race. “Look at—did you see that overtake?”

Bucky didn’t respond, his eyes locked on the rider. There was something about them—the way they leaned into each corner, never hesitating, always pushing for the absolute edge of human limitation.

The commentator’s voice broke through his thoughts.

“And there it is! The factory Ducati taking the lead with that beautiful overtake from the inside line! Unbelievable control!”

The Ducati was now in front, pulling away from the others as the final lap approached. 

Bucky watched, as they flew through a sweeping right turn, knees and shoulders skimming the asphalt like it was second nature.

As the Ducati roared down toward the finish line, the chequered flag waved. 

First place.

The crowd erupted, but Bucky barely heard it. The rider slowed, their gloved fist pumping the air, before coming to a stop after the cooldown lap. 

The other riders were congratulating them, patting their helmet with friendly taps.

Soon, the camera zoomed in, capturing the moment they pulled off their helmet.

And Bucky’s stomach dropped.

It was you.

No helmet, no visor—just you, smiling that confident smile that he knew so well.

Oh. He was stupid. Bucky Barnes was so incredibly stupid.

Of course you were a motorcycle racer. The sleek apartment, the effortless style, the way you moved on the dirt track. The way you told him you worked on weekends— it all made perfect sense.

And yet, somehow, he'd convinced himself you were a mechanic. Of course he did.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered, bolting upright.

Sam shot him a confused look. “What?”

“That’s her,” Bucky said, his voice low in disbelief.

“Who’s ‘her’?”

“The mechanic,” he said, gesturing at the TV, as you celebrated with your team of race engineers. “The girl I told you about. That’s her.”

Sam blinked, staring at the screen, then back at Bucky. “Wait—you’re telling me she fixed up your fuel filter?”

Bucky didn’t answer, still staring at the screen. You were heading toward the press now, handing your helmet to a crew member as reporters swarmed you.

The camera cut for a post-race interview. You looked exhilarated, but still composed as you answered questions about your strategy— about the win. 

Then the interviewer threw in a curveball:

“You’ve been on a hot streak lately. Is there anyone you want to dedicate this victory to?”

You hesitated just long enough for a sly grin to tug at your lips. Then, you looked directly into the camera.

“This win’s for a super soldier,” you said, your tone as playful as ever. You made a phone gesture with your fingers and winked. “Call me, Barnes.”

Bucky’s jaw dropped.

Sam burst out laughing, but in no less shock. “I cannot believe you hooked up with her! Bucky, You lucky son of a—“

But Bucky wasn’t listening anymore.

He couldn’t believe it. Of course he could keep up— you were literally leagues ahead of him.

And somehow, you were still into him. 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Sam said, nudging him hard enough to make him wince. “You gonna call her or not?”

Bucky didn’t answer, already scrambling for his phone. His hands trembled a little as he unlocked it, a smile already tugging at his lips.

He wasn’t sure what he was gonna say when you picked up, but he knew one thing for certain: Tuesdays just got a whole lot more interesting.

-end.

[writingblogsandothers]

The Chosen One

Part 2

Writer's Note: Thank you so much to everyone for the love and support on the first instalment of this story. I really wasn't expecting any sort of reception, so all and any feedback is greatly appreciated. There will be more parts to this ever-twisting story, so keep your eyes peeled! Sending all the love X

Warnings: Mild Taunting/Teasing // Mild Fear (nothing descriptive)

Use of She/Her/Lady - Female Pronouns

Part 1

Dark corridors paved the way towards what she could only assume were her new living quarters. Aurelia was cornered by four guards; two front and behind. There was no use in trying to make a run, she decided to accept her fate and trust that the gods would keep her safe and right. The corridors were smoothly paved, the largest tiles she had ever seen in her life. Lined with only the best forms of lighting available in the lands at the time, she could see the corridor stretch and bend for what seemed like miles. Gods, she felt like she had walked to the end of Rome and back already. The guards came to an abrupt stop, which caused Aurelia to walk right into the back of them. She apologised profusely to which she received, “Ma’am please accept my apology for stopping so abruptly. I will ensure it does not happen again.” Aurelia steps back in shock. What happened to these guards who were so ruthless, who now suddenly were so appeasing, and dare she think kind, courteous? Breaking her from her thoughts, the commander of the group announced “Lady Aurelia, your quarters.” He opened the heavy wooden door, and in she walked.

Space. Light. Beautiful scent. Grandeur. Aurelia couldn’t believe her eyes, her breath was genuinely taken away. A young lady stood to the far right side of the room, with a kind look upon her face. “Lady Aurelia, welcome to your chambers. You will find your dressing room to the left, your living quarters to this door on your right, bedchamber right down this hallway,” pointing to her left, “and your bathroom shortly after.” Aurelia can only nod, the young lady notices her hesitance and continues, “My name is Alba. I am to be your servant. Anything you desire my lady, I will try my best to fetch for you. There is another, Camilla, however she is engaged with other palace matters. You will meet her shortly.” Aurelia stepped further into the room to acknowledge the grandeur of the hall. The curtains fell from the ceilings, which seemed to stand at about 20ft tall. The floors, appeared to be marble and glistened in the sun. The smell, of sweet lavender filled the air. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath and thought of home. Ah, home. She thought of her mother and her father, and her two brothers. Worried for their wellbeing and worried for their concern of her. Again, her thoughts interrupted by Alba, “Lady Aurelia, may I recommend seeing to bathe and change into something else. Emperor Geta has requested your presence at this evening’s dinner gala in a bid to celebrate your triumphant news. No doubt he will wish to see you well.” Finally, she speaks, “Yes, that sounds lovely.”

The bath was decorated in gold embellishment, with rose petals littering the water. The water was milky with comforting salts and had a beautiful aroma. Aurelia had never known of such graces. Alba was going to assist her with disrobing; however, Aurelia asked her kindly if she could bathe on her own. Alba reluctantly agreed, stating that she wishes for Aurelia to not lift a finger, to which Aurelia laughs stating, “Alba, I appreciate your diligence however, where I am from, this washing ceremony is of great luxury and a privilege to do so myself. I thank you for your attentiveness.” Alba nods, “As you wish my lady. I am just outside should you need me.” Alba gently closes the door behind her, and Aurelia makes her way over to the huge mirror. She took in her appearance one last time, no doubt the Emperor had some grand plans for a great makeover for her to complete to be worthy to stand next to him. She picked at her plain tunic and looked into her own eyes. She was pretty. Her eyes, piercing blue could be mistaken for a bright summer’s day. Her hair a dusty brown verging on dark, dirty blonde. She certainly wasn’t skinny, the gods had blessed her with sufficient curving to her body to make her shapely. She just prayed that Geta didn’t regret his decision and saw something in her that she clearly didn’t. Dusting herself off, she disrobed and launched into the temperate bath, sighing in relief – what a treat for her heavy, weary bones.

Once she was ready, she made her way to the hall, where Alba met her to bring her to her dressing room. Upon entering, the entire room was filled wall to wall with every item of clothing a body could ever desire, every type of colour, shape, length. There was an entire section dedicated to accessories, as well as a section for footwear. Aurelia couldn’t believe her eyes. “Lady Aurelia, Empero-”, Alba begins but is interrupted by Aurelia, “Please just call me Aurelia.” Alba nods, “Aurelia, Emperor Geta has handpicked your clothing for the dinner this evening, including your accessories.” Alba runs to fetch the items. She hangs a beautiful baby pink robe, adorned with light gold embellishment with fine rope dangling from the waist and arm. She lays out a pair of gold sandals, as well as golden chain earrings, and a gold choker. Alba ushers Aurelia to come closer and begins to dress her assignment. Once all is on, she places her hand on Aurelia’s back to send her to the dressing chair, where she begins to work on her hair. She ties tiny braids on either side and brings them together to form a crown-esque look around her head. Alba applied face cream and a light blush to Aurelia’s soft cheeks, as well as concentrate perfume to all her pressure points. Aurelia admires herself in the mirror once Alba has finished her handiwork. She was taken-a-back. This was the first she had ever seen herself dressed to such a degree. Alba stepped back and sighed, “Aurelia, you really are quite beautiful.” Aurelia blushed in response, and told her “Alba, please. The work was all your doing. I should be thanking you for your kindest efforts!” Alba let out a mild chuckle, and ushers her to the door, “Let us leave and join your betrothed, we do not wish to keep him waiting.”

Aurelia entered the banqueting hall and sees everyone already seated. She stalled. Geta looks up, Aurelia could almost swear she saw a look of sheer surprise before his usual cloud of animosity overtook, he announced, “Ah, here she is… finally! Sit woman so we can begin our festivities.” She hurriedly made her way to the spare seat next to Geta. He appeared to stare her up and down before discreetly whispering, “Everything to your taste so far?” Aurelia, mouth dry, replied “Yes, my Emperor, everything and more.” In a half snuff, he replied “And the dress? Gold appears to be your calling card.” Looking down she stated, “Yes, Sire it is everything I could have wished for. Gods have not seen more beautiful clothing. Thank you.” Geta replied with a short “hm” before clinking his glass;

“People, dear Brother, Mater. I present to you all, my soon to be wife, Aurelia. We must plan efficiently as we are to be betrothed this day week. Feast in celebration, praise Rome!”

Everyone lifted their glasses in cheers, including Aurelia, who attempted to clink with Geta. Their hands brushed and she wore she felt some sort of electricity pulsing through her. She caught sight of Geta’s features and saw he must have felt something also. With a clear of his throat, he announces, “Begin!”. He sits promptly in his chair, while servants begin to start their rounds of ensuring wine glasses were flowing and plates full. In all of the rush, Aurelia did not notice who sat to her right was none other than Caracalla. She felt a tap on her shoulder when she was met by his brightly painted face. When she turned to face him, she could feel Geta’s stare into her shoulder blades. “So then Aurelia, I take it you have accustomed yourself to the delights the palace has to offer.” She began to speak, but was cut off by Caracalla again, “I trust my brother has told you of his plans with you.”

“Excuse me?”

“The plans? Geta! Gods, please keep your dog up to date. Well, you see, we share everything. We share a mother, kindly. We share a home, spectacular. We even share our title, gracious. So, what’s one more to add but to share a lover? You.”

Aurelia could have fainted on the spot. Geta was crass and he was cutting, but Caracalla was on another level.

“I-I-I don’t understand?”

“Okay, allow me to spell it out for you. My brother will have you say 4 nights, and I 3? Oh it truly will be-”

“Caracalla, enough of your taunting and teasing. Aurelia, take no heed. He is merely trying to make a fool of you”

“Brother! Allow me to play with your new toy. It is exhausting being so boring all the time, must we rid ourselves of any fun?!”

Aurelia feels like a child caught in crossfire. Relieved in a sense that Caracalla was joking, but feeling increasingly uneasy as she can feel Geta becoming annoyed.

“Caracalla, enough.”

“Brother, here you are ripping ourselves of our pleasures.” Caracalla rises from his chair to meet his brother’s gaze. “We could see to make this one really squirm. She’s so pathetic, she would just take it all and say nothing. We could really go to to-”

“ENOUGH! Brother, apologise to her immediately.” Geta was enraged. The hall came to silence, “NOW CARACALLA!” Veins popped out of the Emperor’s neck, with his face flushing a fiery red.

Caracalla made his way back to his seat, sniggering. The hall refilling with sound once more.

 “Who would have known love could make you go so limp, brother.” He teased under his breath.

Geta’s gaze never lifted from Caracalla’s head, waiting for him to apologise. Leaning in, Caracalla began “Forgive me Aurelia, I was such a bad boy. I didn’t mean any of it.” clearly telling that his apology was as insincere as they come.

Aurelia lifted her head, and smiled ignoring the sarcasm of it all, “All is well Emperor Caracalla, thank you for your kindness.”

Geta shifted to sit in his seat, while Aurelia turned and mouthed a small “Thank you” to him. He curtly nodded his head and returned to his wine glass. Caracalla leaned over to Aurelia, “Just because he stopped me this time, doesn’t mean I won’t try again.” Aurelia stiffened. There really was something so very, very sinister about Caracalla. What had she ever done to deserve this torment? She returned to drinking her wine as per her betrothed and took in the scenes before her, wishing the evening would end so she could retire to her chambers.

“Would you like introductions?” Geta asked, not daring look at her, but startling Aurelia. “Please?” She asked, wanting to know more about her new life.

“Lady on the end? That’s Lucilla. Her brother was the great Commodus. He was brutally slain in the Colosseum. A great Emperor of his time. She may do well to speak with you. Pass on some knowledge.” Aurelia nods.

“Gentleman next to her? That’s Marcus Acacius. Great commander and army chief of Rome. A warrior on the battlefield. Continually makes triumphant wins for our empire. A true blood of Roman ethos. Also, Lucilla’s lover – if you could call it that.”

With a touch of confidence, Aurelia said, “I like his baldric.” Geta looks at her intently, “Yes, it is rather nice, isn’t it?”

“Next to him, is Senator Gracchus. One of the leads of the Senate – in other words, a right pain in my backside.” Aurelia lets a giggle escape, but quickly sobers up. “My Emperor, forgive me, I apologise I did not intend to laugh.” Geta just smirks down at her and continues on with his explanations.

Whilst she couldn’t pinpoint, she felt comfort in Geta’s explanations. His dulcet tones when he spoke seemed to calm her nerves ever so slightly. She didn’t want to admit it, but she felt in her bones that potentially this may not have been the worst outcome for her life.

However, what was to lie ahead, was anyone’s guess…

[ghostdnfie]

this might be another genre of posts that only i understand but. am i the only one who gets annoyed when ppl say they like their faves purely bc they're 'unproblematic' 😭 purity culture hurts my soul bc i see ppl time and time again care way more about the absence of mistakes (i.e. perfection, which mind you is impossible) than actually doing good or trying to improve yourself. and nine out of ten times their faves aren't even 'unproblematic' (or what fits their definition of what they believe to be unproblematic) they have said and done things in the past that were either wrong or hurtful bc newsflash we have all made mistakes or misspoken before. its just that with creators specifically, some were lucky enough not to have their mistakes broadcasted to a huge audience, and some were not.

i just hate the fact that some ccs can say or do smth mistakeningly and they're never seen as redeemable by ppl like this no matter how much they grow and change as ppl, or apologise or make amends, because even though the person they are now is different than the person that made that mistake, in these ppls' eyes they will be tied to that mistake forever, because of the fact that what is put on the internet stays there forever. especially when continually brought up and circled around even many years later. and every time i've seen that happen it's done for malicious intent, not because these ppl actually care about the cc improving as a person.

[margoshamangolord]

A BIG POST WHY TFA SENTINEL IS A GOOD CHARACTER WHILE STILL BEING A FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT

lots of thoughts under cut

I hated him like any tfa viewer is expected to, and i still do, because he's wrong oftenly and very fucking immature about his own actions, but it's just that fandom treats him like a simple flat cardboard designed for nagging the main characters, while he's not. Even people usually fond of discussing character depth just go "ew" at him, but i want to prove that he's not worse than even ratchet or bumblebee in terms of writing. His actions have depths, reasons and explanations. I do not want to excuse him in points where he actually fucked up, but i do want to remind that he's a character with a history and insecurities like others in tfa

I want to start off with the fact that while the hate he has inside the fandom is not really interesting, it is easily expected. He acts like a piece of shit and has a lot of negative traits (for example you have his attitude towards organics, and while you could kinda write it into being a reaction to Elita's 'death', it wouldn't be really valid, since Optimus was there too, he saw the same things as him, but he has no disgust towards humans)

The first thing i want to show would be this screenshot from the allspark almanac. It actually broke me when i saw it and prompted to write this because it brilliantly explains his whole character drama.

He feels guilty. He actually knows and admits he made a mistake and he is weighed down by it. He is fully and painfully aware of his stupidity in the situation.

But is he going to admit it? Is he going to apologise? Of course he's not. He cannot carry the weight of his guilt, but he cannot apologise and let himself be weak. So he made a vow.

He presses Optimus down and puts that weight on him because it's easier for him to stand straight reassuring himself that he's not at fault at all here. He feels that if he says sorry, then he'll be guilty forever and will never let go if he acknowledges it. He is guilty and he knows it, but he's immature and he does not want to think about it at all. He distracts himself with the rules and regulations.

"I did it, i fucked up trying to be something greater than i should, breaking rules. I'm never gonna wash it off, I'm guilty, but i must be better. If I don't make any more attempts at throwing over the rules, if I hold down others from doing so, i will be better, right?"

Rules are safety and comfort for him. Breaking rules and trying to be special is something he associates with Elita's death, and his thought process basically is "no rule breaking=no tragic accidents to be responsible for". He's confident that if he does everything by protocol, how he's told, then there will be no situation he would have to be blamed in. Of course he takes it to an extent. You oftenly see him obsessing over rules and regulations more oftenly than others — and now that makes sense.

The second thing would be his profile and Optimus's words about him. This text doesn't really serve us much important information, just a simple outside opinion on how he acts, except the first phrase.

"Sentinel means well, he really does."

As bizzare as it sounds, even Optimus, who he has a very sour relationship with, understands this. Sentinel actually means well — but it's just his experience and perception that really distort what comes out in the end. His "well" is very different from others' "well", but he definitely does not actually mean intentional harm in most occasions.

An unconcious goal that he most likely has is "do not let the elita incident happen again". It actually explains why he's trying to press down Optimus's ambitions and yells at young autobots about the importance of listening to the code. He may see himself in others.

Last is miscellaneous details. He actually covered Optimus and Elita when they were retreating — wouldn't do this if he was as selfish as creators want us to believe. He says he made a mistake in the almanac (when he was kinda being interviewed, he told the truth). Wouldn't really do that too. Most times he's been a dick to Optimus and his crew were him simply not believing immediate information without proof like he believes is the right way, like he's supposed to, and from his perspective he was genuinely sure he's doing the right thing

Conclusion

I would still slap him if i met him. But it doesn't mean that he should be rushed and avoided during discussion of character flaws and I'm tired of him just getting flatted down by the fandom as "mean and stupid do not touch". I want him to be taken seriously, and tbh finding out that he actually feels bad about archa seven is all it takes to be suddenly enlightened about the inner workings of his brain, because it connects all the dots.

And i would give all my money to see him canonically get a better development and more focus in the show. I would love if he accepted his wrongs, and if he had a genuinely honest conversation with Optimus. I really would.

[starlightshadowsworld]

Concept: Jason and Leo are the ones to fall into Tartarus.

To storm or fire they both will fall.

Jason’s trying so hard, fighting against the pull of Tartarus to fly them to the ship. But Jason’s already tired and Tartarus is so much stronger then him.

Leo’s terrified but smiles anyway and tells Jason it’s okay. Jason releases his power and goes limp in his arms.

He tells Percy to keep an eye on everyone as they both plummet.

Leo using his fire to light a way and keeping them both warm. He makes a makeshift shelter and is relieved when his tool belt has some first aid supplies.

His jokes become more and more flat the longer they’re down there.

But Jason laughs every time.

Jason falls back on what he learned in the Wolf House. He patrols the area and his sword is covered with dust. He doesn’t let go of his sword even when there’s no monsters around.

There’s a tiredness that hangs over him but Jason can’t sleep. Leo wants to say something but he can’t either. Sometimes he thinks he’s weighing Jason down.

And then Jason wraps his arms around him and in a heartbreaking whisper says I’m glad I have you.

Leo goes to the Phlegethon to heal them both. It does the job but has the unintended effect of bringing back Jason’s memories. It’s a relief but there’s a new kind of pain that comes with the Romans betrayal.

Leo tries to apologise for that but Jason won’t let him.

It also erases the false memories Hera gave them both. And they resolve to make new ones when they get out.

“You know I’d kill for one of your tacos right now.”

“Yeah? Let me sleep for a millennia and I’ll make you one.”

Also the rest of the seven are trying to figure out how to fly the ship and do all the things they need.

And realising huh maybe we shouldn’t have given Leo so much shit.

[lairofsentinel]

Info compilation of Lucanis Dellamorte (part 1)

Warning: I’m using the incorrect lore that this game has since it is the one that they built the game upon. Inconsistent things such as “The Lighthouse is in the Fade” or “Mind imprisonment” nonsense are not dismissed during this compilation even though they are strongly questionable.

Unfortunately, Lucanis character has a lot of issues in his writing; sometimes conversations feel like they were written by three different persons and the game ends up with a frankenstein dialogue which can be barely followed, and one needs to fill in the gaps to keep it somehow cohesive and coherent. Besides, there are several times where he suffers narrative inconsistency: he says something that gets contradicted mid-game without being part of his “development”, if he has any.

Also, I apologise in advance for my bitterness that sometimes spills into the text like the Blight when it comes to the murder of the Lore that Veilguard has done to the DA world.

The current post has the following sections [bold ones]:

Approvals and disapprovals

Body Language

Eyes

Why the pantry?

High focus, cool head, and professionalism

Food and cooking

Mage-killer specialisation and previous jobs

Death and Life

Crows and Family

Spite and Possession

Sleep and Coffee

Flirt and Romance

Lucanis’ Logbook

Others

Info compilation: Part 1 || Part 2

[this post will be likely updated briefly after I do a playthrough without saving Treviso in case additional information is shown, but probably won't be much]

Approvals and disapprovals

He mostly approves the “determined” and “focused” options [punch/armoured icon] which align with his personality: no giving up, focus on the goal ahead, and enduring the rough consequences. He tends to favour a resolute, blunt approach to problems instead of a diplomatic one. He also approves hard criticism with cold facts, instead of “therapist talks”. However, when it comes to family and loss, a sympathetic approach is approved, showing he is not 100% cold and facts. There is room for kindness, especially among the people he considers “family”. 

In some of the approval situations, we find that approaching Lucanis with the stern/aggressive option to his failure in killing Ghilan'nain earns us approval, showing us, potentially, a glance into the treatment Lucanis endured under Caterina.

He disapproves in few instances [like all companions in this game], one of them includes humiliation in front of the Crows [Biding Farewell] that can be understood as a break in the trust he put on Rook to ask them to come with him in order to keep Spite in check in case he gets out of control. Taking a diplomatic approach when the situation requires immediate action is also another way to earn his disapproval [Option of convincing the First Warden]. 

Body Language

His body language is always tense and awkward. When he starts to talk to Rook, there is a soft swing of his shoulders, as if he were not sure what to do with his arms or hands, then he stays standing in a very rigid way, hands most of the time closed in fists. 

When he is outside the pantry, we can see he remains in this tense position and only sometimes we caught him rotating his shoulders and head, showing how much tension he is always carrying [this also can be reinforced, despite being a joke, with the dialogue that Lucanis and Davrin share about his sudden possession being a tension in his shoulders].

Another position in which we often find him is with his arms crossed when drinking coffee, which tends to be understood in body-language design as a self-defence/protective position/wary position. Again, a position that shows his constant alert state. 

The only position we see him do with some confidence without much tension leaking into it is the one leaning against the wall, usually done when he is thinking about something. However, even in that position, we see he is trying to release tension from his neck. 

In summary, his body language is a reflection of what we learnt in the story The Wigmaker job: Caterina’s training was focused on punishing him with her cane every time he let his guard down [or made a mistake in his footwork]. Now he has been conditioned to the point of being unable to relax.

Eyes

Most of the time, he speaks with a soft frown, and intense eyes locked into the interlocutor. When he is not in a conversation, his eyes tend to be deadpan, emotionless, and there is an intention in their design to try to convey discomfort due to their intensity. This is an attempt to recreate his gaze as described in Tevinter Nights: “As they [Illario and Lucanis] walked through the crowd, he [Illario] basked in the appreciative glances he received, while Lucanis stared ahead, focused and intense. He was the kind of man you couldn’t look away from—until he looked at you.” 

When talking about work and plans, his eyes get locked in this intense, menacing look. Only when the conversation shifts to personal matters, to things that may hint some level of vulnerability [family or loss] or shame [possession], he lowers his sight or looks aside from time to time. 

This pattern is broken once there is some comfort with the person he speaks to and his eyes stay fixed on the interlocutor, or let him see them with his most soft, relaxed looks [Harding’s coffee scene, and Rook’s scenes].

Why the pantry?

He is evasive when explaining why he picked the pantry as his room. Rook-Lucanis banter makes it imply that it is a good place to choke everyone who wants to attack him. Taash-Lucanis banter suggests that Taash perceived the real reason: he “hides” in the pantry to avoid the excess of “Fade” from the rest of the Lighthouse. In Harding’s banter he says “it’s easy to trap Spite, and there are snacks. And no view of the Fade.” So this seems to confirm Taash’s suspicion. We get the idea that the common, main reason why he prefers this place is because it “keeps the Fade away” a bit, and probably makes the symptoms in his eyes less prominent. If we find him outside, close to the stairs, he will claim that the back of his eyes are itchy. 

Another interpretation is related to his imprisoned mind [Inner Demon]. Another potential way to understand his insistence in remaining in the pantry belongs to the coping mechanism he chose to use to process his traumatic experience of capture and possession: he remains in a cell-like environment because it brings him the comfort that he would be more contained and would not hurt unnecessarily the people he cares about [Rook, the team]. However, his situation in the pantry does not change once Rook helps him in processing this trauma, so I’m inclined to think it’s more a Fade-related cause than a coping mechanism of his recovery from the horrors of the Ossuary.

It’s also important to highlight that in his Logbooks we learn he has some mixed feelings with the sense of time that the Lighthouse gives, and seems to compare it with the timeless sense of the Ossuary. It’s clear that not having a cycle of day-night in this place makes him as uncomfortable as he was in his prison, and that may be another reason why he is in the pantry, which has no windows [so he can’t see that the day-night cycle doesn’t exist].

High focus, cool head, and professionalism

Lucanis is presented as a character who over-analyzes situations to have the perfect outcome. This is part of his professionalism. It is also what helps him focus even when he is dealing with personal issues as his new condition as an abomination. His personality seems to be more than adequate for feeding a Determination spirit, which twisted becomes into Spite. Spite mostly in the sense of “doing things/keep on doing things out of spite”. His whole arc is based on this concept of Spite: resisting, enduring, and keep working despite all the obstacles, in a “harmful” way [which is granted automatically by his profession as an assassin].

He endured Caterina’s training, and the Ossuary, because he wanted to live. There is a stubbornness in him for living, no matter the cost, and hence why he struck a deal with Spite in the Ossuary so he could not be used by him as a cocoon. 

In terms of lore, if we assume this game kept any [very bold of me to think so], it would imply that Spite is comfortable in this host because Lucanis keeps feeding him the emotion that is his nature. And not only that: Lucanis’ determination also could potentially feed the “original” emotion that Spite was. It’s hard to know if this was originally a hint for a future transformation of the demon back to his spirit form [as we saw with Cole in Asunder, or with Solas’ friend in his personal quest in DAI]. So, determination and high focus with a high threshold to endure adversity are traits quite clear for his character.

His cool head is also shown when he discovers that Caterina was killed. His first reaction is “I need to work, I need a target”. This shows not only his high-focus personality, but also the state in which he has been during all that year in the Ossuary: he survived because he shut down his mind and emotions, and focused on a goal: escape” [Davrin-Lucanis banter]. Now he is doing the same, but with work, so he can avenge Caterina’s death.

He doesn’t dwell on his mistakes, but analyses them [Harding-Lucanis banter]. The high focus and cool-head trait is also present in the way he approves several options related to not wasting time on trivial things and focus on the target ahead. Questioning flawed logical sentences also earn his approval [Coffee with the Crows], reinforcing his taste for analysis and logical thinking. He does not accept being called paranoid for being logical. [Coffee with the Crows].  

Another instance where we see his exhaustive focus is during Caterina’s funeral [Bidding Farewell] where Lucanis asks Illario in an intense way more than 10 questions, extremely focused on how Caterina was killed. This shows some level of emotion in him, but also this control-obsession personality of his: he is already working to find the target, to avenge Caterina. As his logic continues he claims that since the First Talon was the sharpest of all the Crows, it was impossible to catch her unaware, the reason why her death makes even less sense [Bidding Farewell]. This attitude also reinforces the idea said above about how relentless he becomes when he has a target and a clear goal [he goes on out of spite]. I think part of the writing in this aspect, so “obsessive” may have been reused from his original design: he was meant to struggle with a spirit of Passion turned into a demon of Obsession, but it did not make it into the game [Game file description of Spite]. This is also, potentially, one of the sources of so many narrative inconsistencies, I assume.

Professionalism is a constant in his character and may have been the main wall to break in order to approach him had he been written as a real Bioware character. It’s not only the cool-headed and high-focus personality, it’s also his insistence in seeing things devoid of emotions as much as possible, translating all into contracts, finances, or fair exchanges. Things must be done with logic in it and a lot of professionalism. He claims that he owes Rook for rescuing him, so the reasons to accept this contract with Rook is not just the last contract ever given by Caterina to him [sentimental reason], it’s also a personal debt he feels he has to pay out of professionalism [logical reason, it’s a mere exchange: he has to do his expertise of killing mages to justify the ordeal of having been rescued]. 

He encourages to delegate tasks that are not of his expertise to other professionals. This may be a reason why he has a contract negotiator who keeps track of the ratings of his work and other aspects [Bellara and Neve banter]. He always agrees and approves of Rook letting experts do their job [perfectly following Taash’s explanations in how to hunt dragons], showing how much he values professionalism and specialised expertise not only for himself. 

We see more of this aspect of self-control in Bloodbath, where he faces Zara. Spite is taking control of his body as he wants revenge, but Lucanis stops the process when Zara offers to give the name of the traitor Crow. The control lasts until Illario appears and kills his target, making Spite impossible to control. However, even in that state of rage, an aspect of Lucanis can surface to ask Rook for help and prevent him from killing Illario. That is a testament of his strong will, his focus, and his sentimentalism as well: he fears deeply to release a demon that can kill the people he cares about.

Food and cooking

He [and Bellara] are the main cooks of the group. They dismiss Harding’s [lack of] cooking skills. [Lucanis-Bellara banter]

Lucanis loved Cioccolata calda as a child, and “grilled treviso with citrus bagna cauda” as he was growing up. [Personal quest and Lucanis-Bellara banter]

He learnt to cook when he was a boy, helping the kitchen staff of the Villa. It kept him entertained between Caterina’s training, but his main goal was to learn how to make churros [Emmrich-Lucanis banter].

His care for the people he loves is partially shown through his food and in how thoughtful he is with what everyone eats/drinks. [Whole game]

Lucanis has a strong rejection of tea [Coffee with the Crows quest] and claims that he doesn’t require the comfort that tea offers. He requires the “jolt of wakefulness from a brew as bitter as a year in bondage beneath the waves” [Harding-Lucanis banter, before Inner Demon]

Food is one of his care languages, as well as his apologising one. The more he cares for someone, the more he focuses on their preferences and tastes.  He also keeps track of every detail of the group: in his quest to do shopping, he picks a potted plant that prevents bad dreams for Harding, seafood special for Bellara who wants to try Dalish dishes, a bone for Assan to chew on, fine glassware for Emmrich, and fresh fruit for Neve. He only does not give anything special to Davrin nor Rook [lol, narrative inconsistencies]

Mage-killer specialisation and previous jobs

He was called Demon of Vyrantium before the possession. This reputation made him famous among the Shadow Dragons due to his expertise in killing Venatori. His services as Demon of Vyrantium are very expensive [Neve-Lucanis Banter]. He suspects that it was Viago who started the title in the Tevinter news sheets and it simply stuck [Emmerich-Lucanis banter with Crow Rook].

He has a high focus on being professional. He wants to get the job done, clean, and complete without caring about the “manners” [Davrin-Lucanis banter]. He claims that Caterina taught him to work in this way, since he makes a difference between completing a job and doing a job well, something that Illario never understood. This is reinforced in some codices when Lucanis killings have a clear professional touch, while Illario’s are a bit more “extra” or “show-off” [Imperium Secret: A Fortunate Heir ].

He ended up specialising in killing mages due to Caterina’s decision of targeting new markets. In the South, mages have no power, so there are no contracts for them, but in the North, they have status and therefore, enemies. He claims that the mages in Nevarra are especially dangerous because “Fireballs are not a threat like coin in political pull” [Emmrich-Lucanis banter]

He repeats that there is a difference between murder and assassination. Murderers, in his perspective, are hobbyists and they are not paid. 

There is no secret technique to kill mages: “be fast, strike hard, and stay out of sight”, and if it doesn’t work, “piss them off” so the demon will eat them [Harding-Lucanis banter]. Lucanis claims that his technique to go after most targets, specially mages, is similar to Taash’s technique of hunting dragons: create a distraction, hinder their escape, hurt them to break their concentration, and finish them off. He adds that it’s like a dance, or a seduction [although he is not sure about the latter] [Taash-Lucanis banter]

He can put himself in his target’s shoes more out of practicality [to better track them down] than sympathy. [Emmrich-Lucanis banter] 

Lucanis doesn’t like necromancy, partially because of his experiences with the Venatori, but also because it complicates his work [Emmrich-Lucanis banter]. There were contracts that needed to be rearranged when the target was killed and later reanimated [Neve-Lucanis banter].

He has taken other contracts that do not involve mages. He claims that he never killed an innocent, by his count [Emmrich-Lucanis banter] but he is aware that his count may differ from others’.

Lucanis has a particular vision of his profession that mitigates moral conflict: he claims that “death comes to everyone, in time. He is just paid to deliver it quickly”. [Emmrich-Lucanis banter] This argument was exactly the same one used by Zevran in DAO.

Lucanis is evasive when asked how he decides when a target deserves to die. He claims that the target has to have “merit”, usually decided by the Talon of the house. He thinks that killing meritorious targets is “providing a service”. If the target doesn’t deserve to die, he still insists on seeing his job as a way to speed up the natural process of death [Davrin-Lucanis banter], returning to the previous argument in the item above.

Despite claiming to never fail a contract in many of his scenes, Lucanis narrates two episodes where he decided not to kill the target and, by extension, break the contract [narrative inconsistency]: “Once, a target killed an important politician and went on the run. The family wanted retribution” but he let her live. “She was a servant, and the politician had been beating her. So the servant returned the favour”. The other case was a teenager of 14 y/o who robbed and poisoned a man. Lucanis claims he “doesn’t kill that young since there is still time for them to change”. [Davrin-Lucanis banter]. The first episode brings the Lucanis we saw in The Wigmaker Job to our mind: he supports revenge from victims of any kind of abuse, and maybe this interpretation allows to give room to the concept of Spite and how comfortable he may be in this host that supports this kind of emotion. In the end, these inconsistencies make us feel the character was written by several people and never truly synthesised.

Lucanis knows quite a lot about Grey Wardens because he had contracts with them, specially with Wardens that, fearing the Calling, hired him to kill them. [Davrin-Lucanis banter]

He has a contract negotiator that he keeps offering to Bellara and Neve [Bellara/Neve-Lucanis banter]

Another aspect of his love/care language is by promising to kill all those that endanger the people he cares about without the need of a contract involved since “it is on the house” [several banters].

Death and Life

He sees death as a place of rest and oblivion: “Everything dies. People, cities, empires. Fashions. Your favourite song. Things fade and are forgotten. Why would you want to outlast what you love? It sounds like a terrible fate” [Emmrich-Lucanis banter]. 

He has normalised the concept of death that he is not affected by it, or at least not in the same way that normal people do. After narrating how he lost most of his family during a Crow war for the First Talon title, Bellara apologises for asking about Lucanis’ family. However, Lucanis answers with a cold response: apologies and sympathy are not needed, “if anyone knows that people die, it is an assassin” [Bellara-Lucanis banter].

We can also see that these small pieces of information about death gives us an idea why in his romance [despite being poorly written] he claims that “all what he knows is death”, and there is an implicit meaning in it: he knows that all what he can hold dear will die eventually, and all his life is made of loss and death. His family’s business is Death as well. Hence the fear of losing Rook, because there is a certainty in it. Eventually it will happen. However, this attitude is fought against with his trait of relentlessness, of not giving up: he will spread death to others in order to prevent Rook’s death [I know the scene doesn’t convey this truly, but it is what I think it tried to imply, specially if put in contrast with the others in which Lucanis speaks about killing the enemies of Rook to keep them safe].

Despite being so involved with death, Lucanis still reaches for life: it is his desire for life, for survival, what kept him alive in the Ossuary and willingly to make a deal with Spite. No matter the cost, he wants to live. He appreciates the simple moments which he considers worth fighting for. He believes that “one has to live fully to live truly”, but he acknowledges the irony of that sentence when it comes to his life: always determined by Caterina and the expectations of the Crow. However, after asking him if maybe the Ossuary shifted his perspective to look for change, he claims that what matters the most for him is the people he is with [Coffee with the Crows]. This shows that despite having a desire to “live fully and truly”, Lucanis always chooses to stay with the people he considers “family” because at the end of the day it is what matters for him. Unfortunately, this is what the game tells us. In The Wigmaker Job, I think we can suspect hints of need for change in his character, but these were never developed in the game. 

Crows and Family

Lucanis’ mother died when he was young, during the war of succession among the Crows. All his family died with the exception of Caterina, Illario, and him [Inner Demon quest]. He was raised by Caterina alongside with Illario [Taash-Lucanis banter].All his family memebers were Crow and he claims that “Death is the Dellamorte family business” [Bellara-Lucanis banter]. However, he claims that the responsible ones for his family's death have been “ash and dust” for years, so his family must have been avenged, I assume by Caterina. [Bellara-Lucanis banter]

He describes Caterina as intense, hard to live up to her expectations. He knows she is proud of him but also knows she will not show it [Taash-Lucanis banter]. He says it was hard to be close to Caterina, even for him who is her favourite, due to his pleasing-behaviour most likely. Teia confesses that Caterina claimed that Lucanis “could do no wrong” [Bidding Farewell] which Lucanis dismisses, claiming that it’s easy to look good compared to his cousin. 

When Rook gives a wyvern-tooth dagger to Lucanis, he claims that Caterina did not allow him to have one [why? It was a dagger after all, and Caterina was teaching him to be an assassin. More narrative inconsistencies]

Lucanis assures us that his grandmother lived an exciting life: she killed a man with a thimble. [Harding-Lucanis banter]

 He calls Illario his cousin but he sees him more like a brother and his only friend until Rook appears in his life [Personal quest]. He and Illario were taken in when they lost their parents, and were submitted to Caterina’s training, which is described as “torture”, but despite resenting her when Lucanis was younger, he does not do it anymore [Personal quest]. I suspect this is because Caterina gave him the tools to survive the unforgivable, rough life of a Crow. Because her family was weak and not prepared, they were wiped out by the Velardo House. She must have decided to save the little that remained of her family through punishing, tortuous training, teaching Lucanis in particular to never let their guard down. We know via The Wigmaker Job that she hit Lucanis’ back with her cane every time he messed his footwork or let his guard down, keeping in him a conditioned reaction of a tingling sensation on his back and a personality that prevents him from relaxing. The abuse of Caterina was undeniable, but it was a “Crow” care language, twisted as crow life is: they had to become resilient survivors if they did not want to end up dead as well. 

He claims he knew he was going to be a Crow when he was young. And he wanted to be one “most of the time” [Neve-Lucanis banter].

His training as a Crow involves “acrobatic work from the time they are children. It’s brutal and punishing”. [Taash-Lucanis banter]

Lucanis cares about Ilario despite knowing he “is impulsive and has his head in the clouds”. Lucanis had to keep him out of trouble more often than not, but “he always stood by Lucanis through his own”. [Pantry banter].

He narrates briefly 2 anecdotes with Illario: 1) He spent 4 hours in the market with Illario once looking for silk gloves to impress a woman that Illario was interested in [Shopping quest]. 2) In the quest “The price of the past”, there is a blighted wreckage ship in the sea, which triggers a short narration where he claims that, putting aside the blight, such a sight is how he ended up after a sailing day with Illario. 

He confirms that regular Antivan afternoons are about “danger, intrigue and family drama” [Bellara-Lucanis banter]. Talking things in his family is about waiting for a public event, for example, Caterina’s birthday, and making a scandal that ends up with Viago and Teia soothing the situation by force or poison [Harding-Lucanis banter].

When it comes to family, he has a pleasing-focused behaviour [“he wants to make happy everyone around him”], trying to agree with his family members, hence why he follows all the expectations that Caterina put on him, and has low conflict with Illario [until his personal quest goes on], Teia, and Viago. He is a mirror of the pleasing-focused behaviour that Harding has [Harding-Lucanis banter and scene of coffee with Harding]. This is a potential explanation of his low conflict behaviour in the team [but we all agree it’s mostly the general sanitised, bad writing of the game].

Lucanis claims that from the dozen Crow houses, he would only recommend five [Emmrich-Lucanis banter].

Most house leaders are family by blood or adoption. The rest of the houses “recruit” people from armies or trades. And sometimes, promising Crows are poached by other houses. “Stay with a house long enough and you will get the family name”. [Bellara-Lucanis banter] [we all know the lore of the Crows is a lot darker than this, but this is Disney DAV]

He teaches Taash how to “kill with flair”, showing that the line “the Crows send their regards” is intimidating enough to let others think that their target’s death meant nothing. The line has to have manners too so the contrast accentuates the effect. The goal of the clever line is to unnerve the enemy, so they don’t swarm the Crow when they are still vulnerable after the strike. [Taash-Lucanis] 

He asks if Divine Victoria is dangerous, explaining that the Crows have a lot of contracts for her [Harding-Lucanis banter] which shows how he is always low-key gathering information for future jobs.

[gugapuppy]

Abortion - Part 5 (A!Ghost x O!Soap)

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5

═══════════════════════════

Well, is cruel to give him false hope?

CW: Implied infertility

═══════════════════════════

Staring at the setting sun, with the orange light shining in his eyes and the muggy wind passing through the fabric of his clothes, Ghost was quiet.

Since the tests had been carried out, he still hadn't received a reply, that was six days ago. 

And that was probably what terrified him the most, if it's taking so long, what does it mean? But Farah's soldiers get hurt, they're a priority and not a bunch of sperm that may or may not be fertile, and define the relationship between the alpha and his omega!

Ghost didn't notice when he started fiddling with a loose thread of his clothing, but he did notice when light footsteps approached from behind, and with a glance over his shoulder he could see Farah approaching.

"Lieutenant! Your tests are ready, they asked me to warn you." Farah approached with a serious tone, patting Ghost on the shoulder before turning and starting towards the medical wing, with Ghost following in silence.

The walk was quick, and when they arrived, Farah knocked on the door and entered, Ghost right behind her.

A doctor soon came in with a sealed letter with the test results, handing it to Ghost. Farah and he sat down on one of the chairs in a secluded corner of the ward.

Ghost's hands clenched the paper in his hand, doubts, murmurs, all the insecurities flooding into his mind.

And if he's infertile, who did Johnny cheat on him with? He'll be alone again. But what if he isn't? Did he hurt Johnny for nothing? Did he run away and ignore him for nothing? Were the tears he cried in his cold bed alone for nothing?

A firm hand on his shoulder woke Simon from his thoughts, he hadn't realised his breathing was ragged, nor the almost crumpled paper in his hands.

With a deep breath, Simon slowly opened the paper, and with each line read and percentage seen, his heart pounded, until everything stopped for a moment, blood running cold and sweat threatening to fall.

Written in bold letters was, ‘This individual has normal fertility, no abnormalities present’.

Slowly Simon's vision blurred, tear drops falling onto the paper. Farah stood next to him, hugging him and shaking him from side to side calmly.

All the bad things he's done to Johnny, to his baby, he's become his own father, a horrible person. How can he apologise? How can he receive forgiveness? Simon wants to curl up in himself and just wake up to the day that everything has fallen apart.

Out of the blue, the realisation that he's going to be a father hits him hard, bringing more tears, but now of happiness at the knowledge that he'll have a baby to watch grow up.

"I'm going to be a father." He whispered.

Farah gently released him, looking him in the eye. "You will, congratulations Lieutenant."

"What do I do now?" Ghost asked, frustrated and worried.

"First," Farah grabbed Ghost's hand and gave it a squeeze. "You apologise to him, I know it can be difficult, so try writing a letter, sometimes the truest words are the most comforting and helpful."

Ghost then gets up and walks towards his room, saying a final goodbye to Farah.

He needs to be as sincere as possible, and he hopes that maybe Johnny can forgive him, and that they can have this pup.

Simon hopes that he can have a family that loves him and that he can love. Not like his was.

═══════════════════════════

Naturally, when I was researching fertility test results, I kind of understood that you get a percentage of how your sperm is doing, so I don't know if it says you're infertile or not.

Remember that I'm not a doctor, so please correct me if I'm wrong.

Thank you to the readers, and I'll see you in the next chapter of Soap!

[gu6chan]

theyre not widely available yet but thank FUCK someone finally says this bc more ranting in the tags but just leaving the few screenshots i do have of the original ending e here

it was always meant to be a joke!!! just because it comes out more lukewarm as averse to doing a complete 180 does not mean it is and was always meant to be some deep thinkpiece whose themes got already MORE than enough coverage through the previous endings (And additionally already reached a perfect conclusion too!!! Re: Ending D - there's really nothing left to be said or done after THAT ending, Ending E is glorified bonus territory positioned as a finale that has no real substance to ADD outside of what's already been said lmfao)

how does that not only make it more clear that they're not jokes

[meli-writes]

Cupcakes

Shut off the lights. Count the float. Lock the front door, from the inside. Check the parking lot is clear. Lock the back door, from the outside. Go home and forget the shitty fucking day she just had—

“Uhh, hey?”

“What the fuck!?” Brooke screams. “Shit fuck.”

Her hand dives straight into the handbag, spiked to match her face because corporate hasn’t managed to send an inspector out here in three years, and her middle-aged boss thinks it ‘reminds him of his daughter.’

She’s still rifling through, for miniature mace or a non-existent switchblade, when the voice coughs and continues, “Could I—”

“You fucking left — earlier,” Brooke interrupts, dipping the toes of her coffee-stained sneakers into the bronze disc under the lamppost. She stares the not-quite stranger down, leaning on the twisting chrome of her bike, and sneers, “I saw you ride off earlier. The lot was clear.”

It had seemed like six dudes at the table. All heckling at each other, bumping leather-clad shoulders to fit into the booth. It was enough of a red flag for her to instinctively glance around, looking for anyone else unlucky enough to be closer. Of-fucking-course not.

And it wasn’t until she was standing there, plastered with an agonised smile that cracked the poison-frog make-up around her eyes, that she realised two of those shoulders were hers. Now the biker girl rolls them softly, but it’s still obvious how much bigger she is than her; and even if it’s lost on the clueless bitch, it’s not on her.

“And I did,” the biker admits. “But I also rode back a bit earlier. Didn’t realise you couldn’t see me but look, if you want me to leave again I can—”

“Fucking leave.”

“—I’m Chip, by the way,” she continues — stumbled inelegantly over the sudden, apparently unpredicted and obvious answer. “I wanted to apologise — for earlier.”

“And I want you to leave,” Brooke says; hand still stuck in the bag, and a snarl stuck pressing her cheeks up against her nose.

The biker girl — 'chip' — looks at her, crossed eyes peering through a messy thicket of poisonously-dyed hair that the internet says tells men to fuck off and never actually does. It at least seems to make Chip do it, pivoting her boot to flick up the bike's kickstand.

Brooke huffs to herself — at herself — for what she knows is a dumb idea, “Wait.”

“Do it,” she orders. “Apologise.”

“Ah. Shit. I uhh—” Chip the biker mutters, pulling on the creased edges of her jacket. “I’m— sorry?”

“For what?” Brooke presses.

“For like— when you were asking about desserts, and I said I wanted the uhh…”

Now Brooke doesn’t need to hear her say it — because it’s been looping in her head all fucking afternoon. But she does want to hear it, so she taps her foot and watches the full-head taller muscle-girl jump in time with it.

“I asked for four cupcakes. Two in the front.” Chip looks at her like she’s lost, like Chip didn’t remember exactly where the diner was so she could drive hours back through empty farmland to be here. “And two in back.”

Brooke doesn't let up on the sharply pointed directions, "Meaning?"

“That I wanted to see your tits and ass,” Chip admits, at least finishing quicker than Brooke can pour a new cup of hours-stale diner coffee.

Brooke hums for a spell, and then, “You’re a pig. You know that, right?”

“Yeah I—”

“Ha!” Brooke laughs, mouth curling to show the neat set of bedazzled, overdue braces, and watching Chip blush through chocolate-chip freckles.

“I just wanted to show off to my brothers. Fit in with them while still being,” Chip mutters while fumbling at a pride patch evidently torn-off and resewn a dozen times over, “me.”

“They’re assholes, okay,” she offers weakly, “but they accept me.”

“And for hanging out with them, trying to fit in with them, that makes you what?”

“Also an asshole.”

“Ding!” Brooke snaps her fingers, and lets the dozen-or-so beaded and paperclip-chain bracelets slip down her coffee-spill burn-spattered arm. “You done?” she asks.

“Yeah. That was it. Sorry,” Chip says and glances towards the lot exit and the moon peeking over the decades-rusted diner sign. “Maddy, yeah? It’s an empty road so if you wanna watch and make sure I’m gone before you leave yourself—”

“No.”

“Uhh…”

“It’s a fake name on the uniform. You know for assholes like you,” Brooke says, and enjoys letting Chip bake in the discomfort. After a few aching moments she offers a reprieve, “I’m Brooke. And you are a chauvinist, leatherdyke asshole.

But— if I had to go home right now, I’d be fingering myself all night to you.”

Chip chokes on the gum that’s been circling in her cheeks for the past hour, and nearly tips her bike over from stumbling back into it, and doesn’t get any words out before Brooke’s popped the buttons of the undersized, clashing, retro-teal diner shirt, and dropped it on the concrete to show off the black lace push-up underneath.

It’s not hiding anything. It’s not meant to.

“Cupcakes, you said?”

“Fuck,” Chip manages to muster at last, and sees her own breath in front of her. “W-wait. Isn’t it kinda cold out here?”

“Then give me your jacket, and keep my cupcakes warm with your hands,” Brooke says straightforwardly, and once Chip shakes the stupor she hangs the leather morass over Brooke’s shoulders and lets it swallow her except for the bare front; runs her hands up to squeeze fat tits together, slipping a hand under the band to massage the marks from wearing a fuck-me bra to a nowhere diner for work all-day.

Brooke herself is looking down Chip’s arms, taking the scuffs and scars from stupid brawls with drunk brothers and learning to ride after to keep up with them. She lets her own hand push into Chip’s crotch, smiles when she feels how hard Chip is.

“You were thinking about this too, weren’t you?” she asks.

“Y-you don’t mind that I’ve got one?”

“No,” Brooke snickers, and then pauses to correct. “No, not at all.”

She leans in closer, letting her breath fall in Chip’s ear, the lust pulsing through her stripping composure, “But you’ve been thinking about it between my cupcakes. Haven’t you?”

Chip’s entire self shakes, as if she came just from hearing it. “Yes!” she blurts out. “I-I mean— yeah, totally, that sounds hot.”

“Hmm. Be patient then,” Brooke says as she pulls back, running through the split in Chip’s top to claw at her back and rake a hand through home-clipped hair. “Wanted to apologise,” Brooke parrots. “Sure. Wanted to get rewarded more-like, for fucking trailer-park chivalry.”

Every part of the giant butch melts between her fingers, except for the one part she can see fighting and losing to her thick, leather pants. “We’ll get to you,” she tells it. “First though…”

“Ahh! Hold on—” Chip squeals, as Brooke flips her luridly-short skirt up and mounts Chip’s thigh. It doesn’t even feel like she’s wearing anything underneath, and Chip shakes herself as she thinks how close her uninvited hand came earlier today.

“Shush,” she’s told, and it’s easy to be quiet and listen to nothing but the tatted-up, college drop-out dream that’s fucking herself on Chip’s prostrated, shuddering thigh to the tune of the thud-thud in her chest.

“They’re riding leathers,” Brooke reminds. “They can get wet.”

---

(Masterpost)

[clegfly]

PUTER MASTERPOST AT LAST!!!

If you’re one of the people that asked me for this, the wait is over!!

To my pleasant surprise since I started it puter has become probably the most popular thing I’ve made which I’m SO grateful for… so, I thought it only fair to give the people what they ask for and make a full master post compiling all the content I’ve made for the au thus far!! This will be updated as I post, hopefully.

Keep in mind that puter is still a work in progress, so there will be a lot that doesn’t work or make sense yet, but trust me, I’m working on it! Remember, patience is key!!

So, without further ado, here it is!!!

Quick Summary

For anyone wondering what puter actually is, here’s the gist:

Following the events of OMORI’s neutral ending (specifically the one in which basil dies… specific variation of THAT isn’t too key at the moment but that might change for plot reasons…), five years after the move, with some help from his mother, sunny is improving… very slightly. In fact, he’s had enough motivation to pull together a shitty little flash game, fuelled by his past passion for them. He’s still not fully all there, and he still spends most of his time in headspace asleep, but now he has SOMETHING to work on outside of it, and it’s giving him the slightest reason and encouragement to wake up each morning. The slightest.

And, notably, one of the characters in said shitty flash game is actually based on Mari… Even when he isn’t really trying to, he ends up putting her in the game anyway, because he wants mari to be safe, and he’s so consumed by guilt and regret that he feels obliged to make her in worlds where she can be okay. Another sort of subconscious way of both immortalising her and apologising to her in another fun, perfect world of his design, where no harm can befall her, and everything is perfect. He didn’t kill her. They never argued. Mari is okay. Mari is fine, again. He’s sorry. He’s so, so sorry.

However… this stand in mari character actually gains sentience and becomes self aware, convincing itself that it truly is mari… leading to a LOT of stuff. We call her “mariware” over here, by the way!

The au’s actual storyline takes place years after this, following kel after he visits sunny’s mother five years after his mysterious suicide, and possessing a flash drive containing her son’s game… and, as we know, something else.

As stated like thirty times at this point… VERY work in progress!!! But I do have most of it figured out… though I’m not sure how to convey it as an actual story yet… but that will come with time, I’m sure!!!

Lore/ Canon Posts

Posts I’ve made for puter which are actual pieces I’ve put thought into and are canonical to the au. Have fun!!

ERHUSGKSCAE UEGGVXAE

SILBVRUW

IHX UEPJMCE

BUKLIEGV!

ULTAL QTMKE

UUG

Doodles/ Sketches

Here is where you can find all my non-canon doodles and sketches for the au!!

Concept art

Awful dithering test

Cleg gets the artstyle right for the first time

Click and drag

Antivirus

Club penguin

Kel design concept sketch

Microsoft paint

Mariware bromine brush 1

Mariware bromine brush 2

Mariware boingoingoingoing

Wrong

Fries

She wants to KILL

Heromari

Get a job bozo

Sir this is a Wendy’s

Teaser

IHX IVPJMKEL

…

…huh? Is something else meant to be here?…

…

…maybe it’s not ready yet.

[butterflysonnets]

absolutely insane that mike literally p a n i c k e d when will was like "well what about us?" because will wasn't even really making things gay he was honest to god just inquiring about the state of their estranged friendship and wondering why mike didn't make time to talk to him when they're supposed to be best friends but MIKE was the one having an aneurysm like "🏳️‍🌈⁉️ W H AT!!"

“WE'RE FRIENDS” “i know mike” “WE'RE!!! F R I E N D S!!” “right so why don't you call me — ” “I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND” “… that in no way answers my question"

[spiltcandycoatedpunkblood]

so was that legitimately fake outrage at Watcher being "greedy capitalists" that people are now gonna go watch the try guys who are doing the exact same thing?? where's the outrage at their wealth and how they spend their money? why does Keith get people just watching him eat at expensive restaurants, but it's terrible seeing Steven go to expensive restaurants to eat food? it's got nothing to do with "the try guys did it better!!!" it's the fact that you got so outraged because of how much the economy is in shambles and people can barely afford food, let alone another streaming service, and now suddenly it's a great thing seeing the try guys be able to improve their situation with one!! I thought the whole point was that we didn't need another one!! what is it???

it's just obvious that they've both done similar things, but people are taking more issue with the creators of colour for daring to grow and move forward. EVEN AFTER THEY ALTERED THINGS AND GENUINELY APOLOGISED even whilst being fucking eviscerated online. and instead of being helped and understood by their white friends, they get fucking shaded by their friends with a sofa joke and "not to name names" bullshit

what is it with people of colour being left in the dirt by their white friends and/or costars???

[an-urgent-appeal]

I don't want bill and ford to be happy together but I want them to both fantasise about it iykwim

[galedekarios]

the plagiarist posting an "apology" to creators, including myself, who he has ripped for months on end despite us asking him not to while he still has us all blocked is... a choice

[hauntingblue]

ARCANE DAY

Episode 4 and 5 in the tags and:

SALO BEING A VIKTOS FOLLOWER??? CRAZY. ALSO BOTH VIKTOR MISSING JAYCE AJDHSKSJ also cait has kinda calmed down... and I am sure she misses vi so I KNOW this is going to happen to her soon.... we aren't getting much of her feelings yet... she's still too onto Jinx to catch up on where ambessa is going...

DID JAYCE JUST KILL SALO??? WHAT HAPPENED IN THERE

Also vander not recognizing vi at first until she gives up fighting.... incredible ALSO vander and silco being miners and vi wearing her gauntlets that were initially thought out for miners.... damn

This is my favourite episode so far....

Episode 6 here:

Sky really being there..... of course she is....

Ambessa training caitlyn.... of course thats her new daughter akdjskms Tunnels in your eyes.... GIRL!!!!!!! THAT'S WHAT YOU DON'T NEED RIGHT NOW also the guy outside is a mage... ambessa is such a hypocrite

Vi and Jinx vs ambessa and cait.... this was always about class war don't get it twisted SINGED!!! TRAITOR!!!!

ARE THEY GOING TO SEE VIKTOR???? I looove how viktors touch on their faces leave "scars" so recognizable

Did isha just take the gem from vi's gauntlets??? Omg I wasn't expecting viktor to build a hippie commune to be honest omg he looks so good.... with the blonde underhairs.... and I do believe that's the same blanket....

And of course viktor knows who vander is.... nvm he diesnt know omg viktor asking for Powder.....

We are getting viktor horsegirl montage.... omg the vander momtage I can't..... omg they wanna stay.... singed is gonna fuck all this up NOOOOO 😭😭😭 they are already there I am going to kms

CAITLYN STOP THIS MADESSS!!! ✋️ CAITLYN!!!!! VI KILL THIS MAN!!! OMG CAITLYN...... mongoose... yeah.... and fuck you too.... CUPCAKE!!!! ABOUT TIME!!!! CAITLYN I SAID STOP THIS MADNESS WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT!!! And jayce too 😭😭😭 we're never making it out of the fissures

It's such a shame the spit on here won't work like on challengers.... one can only pray I guess

Jinx experiencing the "there's nothing more undoing as a daughter" moment.... incredible

"Your absence provided a vacuum I was able to fill" TO VI???? I KNEW THAT HAND HOLDING IN THE COMMANDER SCENE WAS SUS AKDHKASJ maddie exists and ambessa knows that and still.... it was not filling her mother's void...

YES CAITLYN!!! YES!!!!! VI is so hot I am distracted... ambessa was right.... now what the fuck will jayce fuck up??? Thats the question... NOT ANOTHER CHILD!!! jayce is a menace... the guys smiling at jayce are viktor... maybe the child even....

JINX KILL THAT MAN!!! NVM VANDER KILL THAT MAN!!! JAYCE YOU FUCKING MORON!!!!! JAYCEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE WHEN I GET YOU JAAAYCEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Isha what are you going to do omg 😭😭 did she kill vander... another powder... my god another week...

That was such a good fucking episode too.... and caitlyn didn't go insane when finding Jinx that is a step forwards but viktor can't be dead... no fucking way... he was giving himself away for the people and he was going to finally die by saving vander and look at what we got... no wonder viktor hates his guts. Jayce you were so good in act one.... what happened..... alright. Christ.... another week....

[sir-adamus]

so replaying through the teal mask dlc on violet and the thing is Carmine does try to apologise to Kieran for lying to him when he runs off right before the Lousy Three are resurrected - he refuses to let her finish and leaves

after the player confronts the three at Ogerpon's cave and Carmine and Kieran show up, he apologises for stealing the mask and the player can apologise too, which he acknowledges and appreciates

so while the start of his behaviour is rooted in them keeping secrets from him, that situation is evidently meant to be cleared up by the time we get to the Mask Retrieval Squad arc; he gets progressively worse from then solely because Ogerpon ends up spending more time with the player and chooses them over him, out of jealousy and insecurity over not being good enough