#once again what this proves me is how not confident off is in his abilities 🥺🥺🥺

[ryansjane]

Did you watch Off's latest interview (both article and video) with GQ magazine where he talks about his career and everything else? I would like to know what you think since you're like the biggest Off stan that I know lol. I got a bit emotional after watching him talk about his retirement and post GMMTV life even though I wish the best for him.

dude you gave me the BIGGEST heart attack lmao I thought off had announced his retirement 😭😭😭 but thankfully he said he's signed a new contract with gmmtv until he's 37, so at least we know he's there for 4 more years 🥰🥰🥰 I always love to listen to off talk, he's such a self-introspective person! it was especially interesting to hear him talk about wanting to do a movie bc yeah, I've been dreaming of a movie for him for years!!! and the fact that he said he actually has gotten offers but felt like the characters didn't fit him 🥺 I hope he gets a character perfect for him & I can see him on the big screen very soon!!!

xxx

[luveline]

could we get more bombshell!reader and spencer please?

for you lovely ♡ fem!reader

"Hi, gorgeous." 

Spencer should've known it was you from the soft, sweet-hinted smell of your perfume, but he was distracted by the book in his hands. "Hey, Y/N," he says.

"You realise you've stopped walking? And that we're both quite late?" 

Spencer blows out a confused breath, looking over his shoulders. He'd known where he was when he started but obviously overestimated his ability to walk and read at the same time. "I do now. Thank you." 

"Oh, you're welcome," you say, voice like angora silk. "Let's walk together, yeah? That way you won't get lost again." 

Spencer stammers at your fingers slotting between his, your palm as soft as your voice. Your touch, even, is soft. You curl your fingers around his like he's something precious and the two of you set off together toward the elevator for the BAU floor. "I'm sorry I didn't text you back last night, I was catching up on my beauty sleep, something you clearly don't need to do, and when I saw it this morning I thought I'd rather hear it in person." 

"No, don't be sorry, I knew it was a long shot," he says, momentarily distracted by the (frankly insane) feeling of your hands swinging in tandem. You're probably the last person alive he wants a sorry from. You're beautiful, and you're always sweet, always interested in what he has to say.

You prove it. "I was sorry I missed it, Spence, I thought the whole lactic acid theory sounded interesting. Think you can squeeze it in before the round table?" 

Spencer gives it a try. It's impressive how he manages to focus on two things at once, freaking out about your hand in his —so casual and so unreal— while explaining the twisting science of muscle soreness and fatigue. He nearly doesn't notice you pulling him from the elevator and into the office, but then he gets that sixth sense feeling like there are eyes on him, and he pulls his gaze from your (again, frankly insanely) pretty face to investigate. 

Working with his team, the agents in the BAU office have gotten good at subtlety, but half don't even try to pretend they aren't looking at you. You, in your fancy coat with your cute handbag, and Spencer, ragged in a cardigan and shoes with worn soles, holding hands. You rub the back of his hand with your thumb, your usual sunny smile flickering.

"Sorry," Spencer says. "Uh, sorry, I didn't… People are looking."

"I know." You take your hand from his. "It's not professional, huh?" You force a smile, trying to seem unbothered, as though this whole holding hands thing doesn't mean more to you.

Spencer hates to play the profiler card, but it's what he is. He knows you genuinely wanted to hold his hand from the twitch of your index finger alone. 

You've always had a way about you. You're confident and fun no matter how many knocks you take, but you're serious when you need to be and a brilliant agent. Spencer can count on one hand the amount of times he's seen that confidence knocked. He hates that it's because of something he did. 

"I mean, it's not hurting anyone," he says unsurely, trying hard to keep his attention solely on you. 

Your eyes widen, your perfectly powdered face alight. It knocks the air out of him. "Until Hotch tells me off." 

"I'll defend you," he says. It's supposed to be a joke but his words come out honey thick, practically sticky with promise. 

Spencer offers you his hand again. As soon as you take it, he starts pulling you with more confidence than he feels across the office and up to the conference room. 

"Oh, come on, Y/N," Morgan says with a grin when he sees you both, tethered and smiling as you make your way to your adjacent seats. "You're torturing my boy." 

Hotch raises his eyebrows just a touch. 

"It's fine," Spencer says. "I asked her to."

Hotch's eyebrows rise higher. He stares for a moment before glancing back to the case file. "Well, fraternisation between employees isn't permitted. But I'm more worried that you're both late. Let's get back to the case details, please, JJ." 

As much permission as you're going to get, Spencer squeezes your fingers under the desk. You can't hold in a laugh. The team shares a moment of disbelief at the disruption. 

"Spencer Reid," Emily drawls, breaking the short silence with a smirk, "you rake."

[nimthirielrinon]

I need to talk about Gale’s insecurities. For all his noted overconfidence, this is a man whose entire self-worth is based on his prowess with magic.

He was a “gifted” kid whose abilities started out well advanced for his age, just to begin with. He very much thinks of himself as annoying, which you learn in the Durge playthrough after the dead bard incident, when he says that if being annoying we’re reason enough to kill someone, he’d “be dead 1000 times over!”.

If you romance him and convince him not to take the Crown after the second romance scene in Act 3, he mentions how he’s used to being seen as over-confident and even self-deluded regarding his abilities, which I think would only make him posture even harder as a defence mechanism.

I think for a long time, his relationship with Mystra was likely something he used as a flex on other wizards who had been cruel or mean to him, based on how he brings it up, when he does.

But what gets me is his utter relief whenever he isn’t rejected by Tav. When he first opens up to you, he has pretty much already prepared himself to be kicked out of the party. He’s even got a plan for when his bomb goes off, to do the least amount of harm he can, and when he says “Even I’ve grown tired of the sound of my own voice” I swear his voice cracks and he sounds like he could cry.

If you romance him, when he tells you he’s in love with you, if you say “I love you too” instead of going straight for a kiss, he’s once again relieved. Despite the fact that you’re there with him and have been romancing him, he still has a doubts that you would return his feelings.

It’s no wonder he made the mistakes he did. This is a man who’s been told his entire life that he’s annoying. Though he’s had other mortal lovers (and we don’t know how those relationship were, only that they clearly ended), he is clearly primed for rejection. And then his ex-girlfriend, the goddess of magic herself, tells him she’ll only forgive his transgression if he kills himself.

Like I said at the top, his precocious talent for the weave is the entire basis of his self-worth, unless and until Tav assured him that he has value beyond his mastery of the Weave. It’s no wonder he felt like he had to “prove” to Mystra that he loved her enough. As long as his self-esteem was based on his magical abilities, he was never going to feel like he was good enough, especially for the goddess who is all magic. He was never going to be able to feel as though he was loving her well enough.

I guess what I’m saying is that his “ambition” and his hubris make so much sense when you consider the hinted-at reasons for his insecurities, his clear desire for friendship and affection (he summoned a Tressym who became a lifelong companion and a lava mephit or something with whom he is still in touch; he even says he didn’t have friends growing up), and his main talent/special interest.

I think he’s a superbly-written character, and I definitely feel like he deserves neither death nor godhood, but a good and comfortable life surrounded by a loving family who encourage him to be his best self.

[drabblesandsnippets]

Sunshine - Part 6

Hot Bucky Summer 2024 - Week 10

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky x Plus-size female character (nickname is Sunshine)

Prompt: “Shhhhhhhhh…” | [Gagged | Voyeurism | Somnophilia] @buckybarnesevents

Summary: (5k) Series Masterlist More confessions ensue before Bucky asks Sunshine out on a date.

Warnings: 18+ Only. Slow burn. Grumpy/Sunshine trope. Happy Bucky (is that a warning?) - he's a photographer in this AU. Mention of insecurities, anxiety, intrusive thoughts, and body image (she's a bit of a mess, okay?). Use of weed. Mention of masturbation. Sexual thoughts and desires.

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

Since the moment she met Bucky, he’s had the ability to put her at ease. To make her feel as if she doesn’t need to pretend to be someone she’s not. Consistently proving that he cares more about meeting her where she’s at, than forcing her to get to his level of open communication. 

It’s one of the many things she appreciates about him, and somehow he makes it seem effortless, Bucky figuring out how to help her mind focus. She doesn’t even remember when it started, but this is far from the first time he’s nudged her with a soft ‘yes or no?’, offering her a way to respond when she’s struggling to verbalize what she wants. 

This is the first time it’s caused arousal to settle in her core though, his simple question of asking for consent turning her on more than anyone has in a long time. Despite the alarm bells ringing in her head warning her that crossing this line is a terrible idea, she’s able to ignore them for now.

The need for Bucky to touch her, to prove once again that this is real, that he truly wants her, overrides all her other thoughts. It still takes her a few seconds, her voice getting stuck in her throat as she searches for the confidence to give him permission. To give herself permission.

And once it comes, she’s telling him yes while her heart nearly beats out of her chest, her entire body trembling with anticipation, the candle-lit atmosphere adding to the already intense moment. It almost doesn’t feel real. After all this time of thinking about Bucky, fantasizing about him, imagining what it’d be like to have him touch her, it’s finally happening. 

As much as she's tried to deny ever wanting more than a friendship with Bucky, it’s impossible to pretend she doesn’t want this.

Then her thoughts derail it, memories of that drunken night interrupting their chance, the guilt that’s been building over the last week suddenly resurfacing. Rational thought tells her it doesn’t matter, that Bucky’s not going to care, but what if he does? It wouldn’t be fair to start things without confessing what she did that night.

It’s imperative that they start this off on the right foot.

Or sabotage it before it can start.

With an apologetic look that suddenly matches the one on Bucky’s face, they’re both pulling their hands back, the quickness of his reaction leaving her questioning who made the first move. 

Letting the fleeting thought of is he having second thoughts? fade away, she opens her mouth to speak the exact same time he does.

“I need to tell you something.”

“There’s something you should know.”

The unexpected interruption from the other takes them both by surprise and they break into a soft laughter, the promise of physical intimacy beginning to dissipate. She’s suddenly desperate to learn what he needs to tell her, her own awkward words of, “you go first” mixing with his casual calm, “you first.”

More laughter ensues, Bucky grinning as she shakes her head, her eyes rolling to the ceiling at how ridiculous they’re being. Before she can insist that he should speak first, he’s gesturing towards the living room, suggesting they go sit back down.

Oh god. He’s having second thoughts.

With a forced smile and an exhale of a laugh, she counters, “or, just tell me now.”

He tries to reassure her, providing her a gentle explanation of, “It’s not about what I want, Sunshine, or how I feel about you. It’s just something I think you deserve to know before this goes anywhere.”

It doesn’t exactly ease her worries, her mind spinning with all the possibilities of what’s going to happen, her heart back to beating wildly in her throat. Whatever he’s about to share, she’ll also need to confess right along with him, admit to something she’s been pretending never happened.

A wave of anxiety roots her in place, her legs heavy, the sweat collecting under her arms threatening to seep through her shirt. She wants to stay right here, will the power to come back on, give her any excuse to pause this conversation, to prolong the inevitable.

It’s why she watches him start to leave, taking the opportunity to get her water bottle off the counter, forcing slow, steadying breaths into her aching lungs. Wasting as much time as she can, she takes a long drink before begrudgingly following him back to the couch, her trembling hands clutched around her bottle.

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

Bucky almost got ahead of himself, his desire for her overpowering everything else until he came to his senses at the last minute, realizing it wouldn’t be fair to begin this without Sunshine knowing he eavesdropped. It’s a speech he’s practiced, figuring out a way to deliver the truth, knowing he might be risking everything with her. 

He should have blurted it out, gotten it over with while they were standing there, but his instincts told him to wait. Or maybe it was his fear. Either way, he’s grateful to find out that he’s not the only one with something to get off their chest, and as he watches Sunshine busy herself with loading a new bowl to smoke, Bucky lets silence fall between them.

There’s a part of him that wants to be selfish, to graciously insist she start, to find out what caused her to pull back at the last second. He can’t imagine there’s anything she’d say that would cause second thoughts or sow doubt, but his curiosity is piqued. 

As easy as it is to accept Sunshine’s offer to smoke with her, taking the bong from her hands, he’s still determined to do the right thing, to lay it all out there as soon as he’s done taking his hit. 

And then she’s surprising him, her words nearly making him choke, forcing him to exhale the smoke harshly.

“I did something I’m ashamed of.”

Resisting the temptation to admit the same, Bucky gives her the floor, refusing to interrupt her newfound courage. She’s unable to look at him while she decides how to say it, her attention on a loose thread of her sweatpants, her feet tucked under her, mirroring the position he’s in, the two of them on opposite ends of the couch. 

“That night, after we got home… after we went to bed… I was still really drunk and I… thought about you...” Sunshine’s pause feels like an eternity, the quiet of the apartment juxtaposed against the blaring thoughts clouding his mind. 

She fantasized about him. She touched herself, made herself come imagining him, and he wants to know everything. He’s desperate to know every single detail of the fantasy, what brought her pleasure, planning to file it away for later.

They’re not in a place where Bucky can ask those kinds of questions, choosing instead to bite his tongue and breathe slowly, waiting for her to finish, her body language telling him she’s far from done.

“At one point,” she whispers, her voice carrying in the stillness of the power outage, “I wanted you to hear me.”

Bucky’s blood rushes south, arousal pulsing through his veins, causing him to shift in his seat, ignoring the urge to close the distance between them. Barely letting her finish, he tells her, “I did hear you.”

His admission catches her off guard, her eyes shooting up to meet his as color spreads across her cheeks. He’s quick to shake his head, promising her he doesn’t remember what she sounds like, his own drunken state making the memories foggy.

Not allowing her to run with the assumption that he only heard her because she was loud, Bucky follows up with an apology, explaining, “I was in the bathroom, hoping to hear you.”

Sunshine’s reaction is immediate, her rush of “oh my god” accompanied by her hand covering her mouth steering Bucky towards the path of believing this is it. He may have fucked this up in a way he might not be able to fix. 

The determination he feels to at least try is replaced by confusion when Sunshine suddenly laughs, seconds after his confession. It’s hard not to join in, his own laughter encouraging her to return her hand to her lap, the slight shake of her head relieving all the remaining tension from his body.

“Well,” she begins, still overcome by a bit of laughter, “I think I should also admit that… I once heard you in the shower and… didn’t immediately stop listening.” The amused raise of his eyebrow has her giggling, and as her eyes drift away from his, staring at a spot on the couch, she adds, “And I may or may not have… purposely overheard you in your room last week as well.” The same night he heard her.

WIthout missing a beat, Bucky tells her, “And you thought we weren’t compatible.”

Seeing her break into a louder fit of laughs, Bucky’s hit by a sudden realization, the overwhelming yearning to spend the rest of his life getting to see Sunshine laugh like this. To be a witness to her happiness. To be the cause of her peace. 

The intense feeling leaves him breathless, dying to reach out and pull her into his arms, to kiss her and bring all their fantasies to life. The signs are there, her flirtatious laughter, her shy smile, the way she’s holding his gaze, inviting him to make the first move.

His commitment to doing this the right way gives him pause, committed to treating her with respect, to erase any lingering concerns she has of their ability to be in a relationship. Physical intimacy would quiet those fears in the moment, but not in the long run. He needs Sunshine to believe he wants all of her.

Resting his elbow on the back of the couch, his temple leaning against his fist, Bucky asks, “Do you like getting flowers?”

She’s still trying to control her amusement and his question seems to ignite it, Sunshine giving him a dismissive laugh, “That’s not necessary.”

Not letting it slide, Bucky raises his brow, challenging her with, “That’s not what I asked, Sunshine.”

The pull of her bottom lip between her teeth only adds to his self-imposed frustration of wanting to kiss her, the dip of her gaze to his own lips causing a knowing grin to grow on his features.

“Yes or no?”

She narrows her eyes at him, the slight tilt of her head an attempt to convince him that she’s annoyed by his persistence, but Sunshine doesn’t fool him. It’s written all over her face. She’s enjoying this just as much as he is.

Her answer confirms it, the playful roll of her eyes, the nonchalant huff of, “yeah” before she glances away, trying to contain her smile. Bucky can read her like an open book.

Leaning forward to get her attention, he’s about to ask more about what she likes, the goal to plan a great first date, and then it’s overruled by fate, the power flickering back on, interrupting their conversation.

Responsibility rears its head, Sunshine quickly jumping up to start blowing out the candles, Bucky following suit to close up the windows, disappointment gnawing at him. He doesn’t want to go backwards, pretend tonight was a fluke due to the circumstances, yet he doesn’t push the narrative.

It’s not until they’re eating a late dinner of cereal, their apartment now clean of evidence of their night, that Bucky broaches the subject, asking her, “Are you free tomorrow night?”

Swallowing a bite, she gives him an unmistakable look, reminding him, “I’m always free.”

That’s not exactly true as far as he’s concerned, but there’s no reason to disagree, deciding to cheekily tell her, “I look forward to changing that, Sunshine.”

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

She’s never been great at surprises, the anxiety of the unknown always getting the best of her, and now Bucky is expecting her to make it through an entire day without knowing what their date is going to entail.

Asking her to trust him, after reminding her of all the ways he’s shown to be deserving of it. Even though he’s not wrong, it’s still difficult for her, Bucky refusing to tell her anything other than to ‘dress comfortably’ for the outdoors. It does nothing to narrow down the scenarios running through her head, but at least it gives her something to focus on.

Something else to stress about that isn’t how their date is going to play out. Instead of wondering if her nerves are going to ruin the night, she rummages through her closet for what to wear. When she starts to worry that she’ll be awkward and make him realize how different they are, she runs through outfit changes, limiting her choices to the few options that won’t make her too aware of her body all evening.

She also likes to replay memories from last night, all the things they shared, the secrets revealed, the promise of what’s to come. It’s more than enough to have her spinning out of control, except Bucky’s excitement was palpable, his enthusiasm for doing things with her able to quiet the intrusive thoughts threatening to make her cancel.

This is terrifying and has the capabilities of blowing up in their faces, but it’s too late now. Friendship might be an option if this ends up not working - but if they don’t even try, it’ll be too hard to be around him. It’ll be all she can think about. It’s all she can think about now and all they’ve done is talk about it.

Regret would consume her if she lets her insecurities talk her out of this. So, she ignores the concerns she has and focuses on getting ready, spending too much time in the shower before wasting the last hour to get dressed, mindlessly scrolling her phone when her thoughts try to stray into uncomfortable territory.

Dressed similar to the way she was the night they went out, jeans a simple t-shirt, she walks out of her bedroom to find Bucky waiting for her, dressed just as casually, his hair styled in a way that makes her want to run her fingers through it.

Letting herself get easily distracted, her eyes fall to the bouquet in Bucky’s hands, her favorite flowers in a vase ready for her. It’s such a simple act, taking care of the responsibility that would’ve been put on her, leaving the only thing for her to do is find the perfect place for them as she flusters her way through a thank you.

The night’s barely begun and it’s already better than any date she’s been subjected to recently. Her optimism continues when Bucky stalls at the door, once again asking her to please trust him. Explaining that he has a solid plan, it just requires her to take a chance that might seem scary.

Considering that’s been her reality for the past 24 hours, choosing to trust him in the face of risking their relationship, it’s easy to follow him out the door, despite her rapidly increasing heart rate. It’s not until they reach the stairwell, Bucky starting to head up the stairs instead of down that she comes to a halt, wanting to question everything.

The hopeful look he gives her has the words dying in her throat, and it’s the offer of his hand that seals the deal. The first chance of physical closeness, like a siren’s call, guiding her to take his hand and allow him to lead her into the unknown. 

She doesn’t even mind that her palm grows sweaty, the comfort she finds in the heat of his touch giving her the strength to climb the stairs all the way to the top, right to the heavy metal door that exits to the roof. Bucky doesn’t give her a chance to voice her concerns, barely letting the worries of is this allowed? Are we about to break the law? What if we get caught? take hold of her before he’s getting her attention.

With a tender squeeze of her hand, he promises he’s been given permission to be up here. Telling her that not long after he moved in, the landlord allowed him access in exchange for pictures for the leasing office’s website. 

Bucky’s always finding opportunities like that, his charming personality getting him things most people don’t have the guts to ask for. It’s a foreign concept to her, but that doesn’t mean she can’t benefit from his abundance of confidence. 

After giving him a slight nod of her head, Bucky grins and reluctantly lets go of her hand, using his strength to open the door, holding it open wide to let her pass, giving her an unobstructed view of her surroundings at this height.

“It’s a good thing I’m not afraid of heights,” she teases him, walking past to take in the clear night sky, appreciating the light summer breeze on her bare arms.

“Please,” Bucky laughs, carefully closing the door behind him, “I wouldn’t bring you up here if I didn’t already know that.”

His sure tone has her turning towards him, unable to resist the urge to stick her tongue out at him, keeping up the pretense that she hates how well he knows her.

“Is that a hint of what’s to come later?” he teases back, watching the way her tongue slips back into her mouth, his flirtatious grin nearly making her lose her footing, her skin suddenly covered in goosebumps..

She purses her lips, rubbing the moisture between them, buying time as she tries not to overthink her response, the desire to throw caution to the wind helping to calm her racing thoughts. Settling for an innocent shrug, and a soft laugh, she tells him, “Maybe. Anything’s possible, I guess.”

Nodding his head, Bucky’s grin grows as he reaches out for her hand again, his fingers tickling along her palm as he whispers, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

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

He spent most of the day out, getting things ready for their date, taking the time to plan things around her comfort level, with the complete understanding that Sunshine might not agree to any of it. He’d never let his disappointment ruin the evening, prepared to let her take the reins, or fall back on alternate plans.

All of that fades away when he sees her face when they round the corner to the secluded area tucked behind the bulkhead they just exited, Bucky having taken the time earlier to set up a picnic basket, a blanket covering the makeshift bench set up against the wall. 

With excitement in her voice, she asks when he did this, and he uses it as another opportunity to get her flustered, loving the way the blush spreads across her skin. 

“Earlier, while you were showering.” Pulling her over to the seat, he explains, “it was either that, or go to my room and think about you naked and dripping wet.”

Her surprised reaction has her glancing away, and Bucky’s not shocked when she lets go of his hand, using the excuse of fixing her hair to hide the obvious smile on her face. It’ll take some time for Sunshine to openly accept this side of him, to match his flirtatious energy, and that’s okay. Bucky’s happy to go at her pace, never wanting her to feel like she has to change who she is to be with him. 

Taking a seat before she does, he makes a show of plopping down, the bench not moving as he gives an extra bounce for good measure. He understands the kind of thoughts that plague her, the worry that something won’t hold her weight, but that’s not the world he wants her to live in with him. 

When she’s with him, she can trust he’ll never overlook these kinds of things. She’ll never be an afterthought. 

Without a word, Sunshine visibly swallows and joins him, her cautious movement lasting for a moment longer until she’s fully seated, the bench easily holding them both, their knees bumping from the close proximity. A strange mixture of familiarity and newness has him itching for a firmer touch, the need to feel her warmth making it hard to focus.

“I’m sorry I’m not good at this,” she whispers, breaking through, her words sending a strong surge of protectiveness through Bucky. 

The shake of his head draws her attention, and the moment she meets his gaze, even if it only lasts for a second, he doesn’t hesitate to tell her, “Personally, this has been a great date so far.” 

Her soft laughter and bright smile that shines on her face is what he’s lived for lately. One of the reasons he gets out of bed in the morning. And now he’s being given the possibility of bringing more happiness and pleasure to her life. It’s more than he could have ever hoped for.

Reaching for the picnic basket to start showing her what he packed, looking forward to her reaction to some of her favorite foods, Bucky tells her, “I’m not looking for an idealized version of you, Sunshine. I want you - the person I’ve gotten to know, because I think she’s really fucking amazing.”

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

It’s safe to say this date is exceeding all expectations. The normal anxiety and negative thoughts that frequently pop up are still making an appearance, but they’re tolerable, Bucky’s attention on her never wavering. It’s easy to wonder why she ever questioned this, their differences seeming inconsequential the more the night progresses.

He’s in the middle of telling her all the places he wants to take her, whenever she feels up to going out, when the distinct push of metal on metal fills their ears, the roof door being pushed open around the corner from where they’re sitting. 

Confusion and panic blooms, her body choosing ‘freeze’ as Bucky curses softly, quickly springing to action, grabbing her trembling hand to pull her into the dark corner, caging her in against the wall. Clearly worried about getting caught, she makes no objections, her hands finding their way to his waist, her fingers clenching the soft material of his shirt in an attempt to soothe herself.

“Shhhh,” Bucky whispers, his touch nowhere to be found, his strong arms on either side of her, the wall providing support as he leans into her, drawing them deeper into the dark. He’s too close, his body brushing against hers, his lips dangerously close, millimeters from her own. 

This can’t be how their first kiss happens, hidden in the dark, feet from where someone is clearly taking a smoke break, the distant smell of a cigarette filling the air around them. Bucky seems to have the same thought, his warm breath moving across her jaw until he reaches her ear, murmuring, “I can move.”

“No,” she urgently whispers, tightening her hold on him, quietly shushing him when he starts to defend himself, something about being allowed up here during the day. She doesn’t want to hear it right now, but that’s not why she wants him to stay. The familiar smell of his cologne and deodorant is the singular reason she’s even breathing right now. 

Drawing strength from the closeness, she lets her senses fill with him, the silhouette of his shoulders, the heat of his torso through his shirt, the taste of his breath lingering on her lips. She gets lost in it, a couple of minutes passing until she’s shaking against him, adrenaline and anticipation coursing through her.

“Sunshine,” he murmurs longingly, his uneven breaths matching hers, the tension building to unbearable heights. She can’t respond, unable to do anything but take in lungfuls of his scent, the inevitable promise of privacy sending her down a winding path of what’s going to happen the moment they’re alone once again.

The final slamming echo of the door closing just intensifies everything, her knuckles aching from their hold on Bucky, refusing to let go despite there no longer being a need to continue hiding in their corner. When he starts to apologize, she can’t let him, a sudden wave of confidence hitting her out of nowhere.

The thrill of seemingly getting away with something gave her a taste of what it’s like to live in Bucky’s world, a life without regret, the simple threat of getting reprimanded doing nothing to deter him from bending the rules. 

While it’ll never be that easy for her, or for most people, she sees no reason not to revel in it, to feed off the rush. Lifting her head to rest her cheek against his, she whispers, “How do you feel about kissing on the first date?”

“Love it. All for it.” 

His breakneck answer has her giggling and Bucky guides her a few inches along the wall, into the dim glow of the ambient light, his sultry gaze quieting any doubts that might try to take root. There’s nothing stopping them from closing the distance, no remaining reasons to stall or check in, their hunger for each other glaring.

There’s no rush to Bucky’s movements, his steady hand ghosting over her neck already causing her breath to hitch and her eyelashes to flutter. And then he’s tenderly cupping her jaw, his inviting touch almost enough to make her lose her mind, an intense wave of arousal washing over her.

Her eyes close, the need to savor this moment overtaking her, but Bucky’s seeking more, his tempting voice filling her ears, “Eyes on me, Sunshine.” 

A request that usually has her anxiety skyrocketing suddenly becomes the hottest thing she’s maybe ever heard. Things have barely started and she’s already a mess, his gentle words turning her on, her core clenching around nothing, her thighs tensing in hopes of seeking friction. 

It’s easy to give in to Bucky’s plea, her body ablaze with desire to finally cross this last line, to know what it’s like to feel his mouth on hers. Meeting his gaze, she provides the consent he’s searching for, the corner of his mouth ticking up with appreciation, holding the moment for a beat longer until he’s leaning in, the light graze of his lips pulling all her focus, the rest of the world fading away around them.

All the daydreaming and fantasies did nothing to prepare her for the fire his kiss ignites, a raging inferno of lust that spreads like wildfire, encouraging her be bold, touch more of him, one hand pressed against his chest, the other moving to his throat, her thumb tracing over his stubble.

Her actions seem to excite Bucky, his groan of pleasure getting lost in their kiss as he deepens it, his tongue meeting hers in a frenzy, as if he’s desperate to taste more of her. 

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

There’s a hint of sweetness on her tongue, the lingering remnants of their earlier drinks, but it’s the taste of her Bucky can’t get enough of. Pure Sunshine. 

She’s intoxicating, the heat of her body, her addicting soft noises going straight to his cock, enticing him to take this as far as she’ll let him. The ever-present need to put her happiness first controls him from going too fast, but it’s not long before he’s pressing her up against the wall, the sweet sounds of her acceptance fueling his passion.

Nothing can compare to this, kissing the woman he’s been dreaming of for months, getting to touch her, listen to her moan for him. She’s better than anything he’s ever experienced, and it takes everything in him to remember where they are, the risk of getting caught is too great to push this further than a heavy makeout session on the roof of their apartment building.

Eventually they’re forced to pull away, the silly demand for more oxygen insisting they take a break. Neither of them use it as an excuse to put more space between them, Bucky’s forehead gently resting against Sunshine’s, her heavy breaths mixing with his, their eyes closed as they cling to each other.  

His gut is telling him to break the silence before it consumes them, his breathless whisper of, “I want you, Sunshine,” a reminder that she never needs to question his intentions with her. 

He’ll never give her a chance to doubt his desire for her. 

“I want to touch more of you.”

The tremble that runs through her has Bucky tempted to take her hand and lead the way back downstairs to the privacy of their home, unable to get the promising image of her pliant and needy underneath him out of his mind. 

WIthout giving him a chance to ask for permission, Sunshine’s nodding her head, her breaths shallow and uneven, the signs of her anticipation evident. 

“Can I take you home?” 

His new question appears to catch her off guard, the slight furrow of her brow making him wish he’d chosen a different way to ask. Watching her hesitate, her gaze drifting to his mouth has him wanting to kiss her again, to soothe any reawakening concerns.

Bucky needs her focused though, to let him know what she wants before he makes any assumptions. Bypassing her lips to trail kisses along her jaw, he reaches her ear, his lips brushing just below her earlobe as he murmurs, “Yes or no?”

Her answer is immediate, the firm grip of her hands against his back sending a shiver down his spine, “No.” And then the suggestive possibility of more that has him straining against his jeans, “Not yet.” 

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

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[nikos-oneshots]

hello HELLO guess who's back and is into monster prom now.

could i have some headcanons for calculester with a friend who struggles in school?

:D - 🪐

Calculester & Reader who Struggles in School.

Warnings: No beta we die like everybody in the z'gord ending ✌️ Word Count: 0.6k Pronouns: None Notes: I COMPLETELY FORGOT THIS SAID HEADCANONS UNTIL I WENT BACK TO POST THIS!! D: I'M SORRY ANON!! If you want me to remake this, then I will! Note 2: ALSO IM SO GLAD YOUR INTO MONSTER PROM ANON!! I love monster prom so much so i'm always happy to do requests for it!! I hope you enjoy!

Calculester Hewlett-Packard does really well in school. He has the internet as his brain, everything known by man at his fingertips. I wouldn’t assume he talks about school much because he knows he has a huge advantage over everybody else and doesn’t want to upset people by telling them that he has straight A’s in most of his classes. This rule especially applies to you, Cal knows that you don’t do the best in school. Whether you are a person who tries super hard and still doesn’t make it that far or decides to skip class multiple times a week, I would imagine Calculester would be clueless about your struggles.

I would think that he would only notice after midterms.

Everybody is sharing their scores. Liam is subtly bragging about how he got the highest in the school, Polly is super excited to show everybody that she got a 69 and Scott is relieved that he just did good enough to stay on the football team. You on the other hand, aren’t really happy about your score, you did your best, or maybe you didn’t, point is, you got a 20. Cal comes up to you asking about your score, you were hesitant to show him, but after he showed you his score of 89, you showed him your score.

“Oh, dear Friend Y/N. Not to alarm you, but that has been the lowest score I have seen yet. I apologize for your test failure.”

You look down in shame, you thought at least somebody would have done worse.

“I notice your struggles now Friend Y/N. If you are open to the idea, I could teach you what I know, like tutoring. Your problem may be that the strategies the professors here use aren’t effective for you to learn from. What do you say?”

You decide to take him up on his offer and once you begin your first session at the library. Calculester proves himself to be a great teacher, he knows how to tailor the way he teaches to match your learning style. You get through worksheets faster and actually begin learning the material. Along with potentially turning your marks around, you also begin to connect with Calculester more than you have already before! As you get him to talk about himself during your breaks, you learn about the way he also tutors Scott and how much of a struggle it was. You learned that even though he is a sentient computer, he still has so much he still needs to learn about interacting with others. You also learn a couple new plant facts!

When your next big test came up for your science class a couple months later, you went into it with a newfound confidence, an attitude completely different from your usual one. Calculester wished you luck, he was confident you would do amazingly, but deeper down, he was nervous for you. He dreaded the possibility that you come back with a terrible score again, he was scared that you would lose faith in him as a teacher and along with that, your trust; He could have sworn he was about to malfunction with how worried he was for you.

As you received your scores a week later, you instantly go to find Cal to show him your score. You try to hide the smile on your face, but you can’t as you give him your paper marked with a large 79 at the top. Relief washed over him and pulled you into a hug. He was so glad he was able to help you, both of your hard work paid off and he was glad that you had managed to achieve your goal with his help, validating his ability as a tutor. As the bell rang, you guys walked to your next class together. As you guys passed his classroom, you shouted to him as he was going to walk in.

“See you after school for our study session!”

Lots of Love -Niko

[leggerefiore]

Mechanical Envy

cw: fluff, light jealousy

pairing: Cyrus/Reader

🌌🛰☄️🌌🛰☄️🌌🛰☄️🌌🛰☄️

There was nothing but frustration on your mind as you attempted to turn off your phone again to see if maybe it could fix this reoccurring issue where it just decided that it had no signal whatsoever. The free Poryphone was certainly cute, but its functionality in comparison to your Rotom phone was beginning to annoy you. Sitting down at a table in the plaza, you stared at the infernal device as the screen turned back on.

No signal was to be found. Even after a few moments of waiting. You felt like you were going mad. The next step in this process would be to head to a certain evil team's hideout and bug their totally terrifying and emotionless boss to please be a good boyfriend and help you out. However, someone appeared to throw a wrench into everything. Your name being called out made you jump as you had not expected to see anyone familiar around.

Volkner unexpectedly popped into the plaza with a rare smile and wave. You returned the gesture and greeted him politely before awkwardly turning back to the phone with a sigh. It seemed that this would be on pause until after you had a catch-up with an old friend. Your actions captured his attention, and his gaze, too, shifted onto the device. “Is something up with your Poryphone?” he asked before moving to sit down with you. Well, you supposed it would not hurt to tell him. He was a bit of a gadgeteer himself, despite his ability to somehow send poor Sunnyshore into hours long blackouts regularly.

“Yeah, it just stopped having a signal, and I don't know why,” you showed him the issue on the phone as he nodded along with your words, “I've tried all the basic things, but I guess I'm going to have to get it repaired.” Volkner seemed to perk up at that bit of information.

“Well, there's no need to go to a repair shop,” his face turned serious once more, “This seems interesting.” Ah, of course. He was bored. You wanted to laugh. Your phone troubles turned into entertainment.

“… I wasn't exactly planning on going to a shop,” you shrugged. Cyrus would definitely help you, just out of his pure fascination with machines if not out of his love for you. Still, it might be more convenient to just let Volkner do whatever he wanted. He was not currently trying to “perfect” spirit or create a new world or whatever else Cyrus was up to while leading an organisation of bowl cuts. You seriously doubted he could do anything that bad to your phone, too. “Feel free to,” you offered him, “You're probably still faster than what I had in mind.”

He nodded and quickly got to work on your phone after getting some tools. You watched curiously as he seemed to do some minor diagnostic work before coming to some conclusion and going into the device's hardware. It took quite a while as he worked, but you were fascinated enough by examining his thought process and movements that it felt like no time whatsoever. There was a strange game you made in your head about comparing his techniques to Cyrus's own. Their similarities were eerie, but their differences showed just how far-off they were from one another.

When he finished, he turned on the phone again, and you watched as the signal marker reappeared. A few minor tests proved that it was indeed working once more. A sigh of relief left you. “Here I was terrified you were going to cause some sort of blackout,” you joked lightly as you tapped around to make sure it was truly in working order for yourself. Everything seemed as it were previously with no apparent issues to be seen.

“I still could,” Volkner offered back with a chuckle, “You seemed really interested in watching me. Do you want to learn how to tinker?” You pondered the question. Did you? Learning how to take apart some devices did sound interesting, but your confidence in yourself just was not there. Plus, you could see the downside in learning from Volkner. His capability was obvious, but his intentions could vary.

“Nah, it was neat seeing it in action,” you shrugged, “Thanks, by the way.” He shrugged back in reply. As a way to better show your gratitude, you offered to buy lunch for you both while you caught up. He eagerly took up the offer. Needless to say, you learnt he still plagued the poor port city with his gym renovations, and Flint was still his best friend.

The evening sun was slowly singing in the distance to eerily remind you of the unexpectedly long amount of time you had spent with Volkner ultimately. When you both parted, you began the awkward trek to the Galactic hideout. You did not exactly approve of what Cyrus was doing, but it seemed too difficult to talk him out as it was. Somehow, you felt that spending time with him gave you the ability to better convince him about rethinking things.

However, your journey was interrupted by a familiar pokemon hovering ominously among the houses of the street. Darkrai. Its blue eye seemed to spy you. A cry left it, and it began to float towards you. Before it got too close, though, Cyrus seemed to appear from out of nowhere. His gaze was intense as he walked to stand in front of you. A cool evening wind blew through the isolated area. You felt confused. Was he wandering? Not exactly like him, but you suppose everyone did from time to time.

“… You stepped out for longer than you specified,” Cyrus finally spoke to break the awkward silence, “It crossed my mind that you might have been taken hostage by another organisation in an attempt to blackmail me.” You held back laugh at his phrasing. Oh, he was worried about you but did not want to admit it. His concern was genuinely touching. Suddenly, however, his face became even harsher than it normally was. “I find you with another man… Letting him work on your phone,” his voice seemed to grow strangely hurt at the latter part, catching you off-guard.

“Cy,” you stepped towards him with a sweet smile, “Volkner offered to help me with an issue. You've been so busy lately that I just took him up on it.” His expression only intensified at that.

“So you then take him out to lunch? And let him offer to show you around machines?” his tone was dark. Another urge to laugh had to be fought back. Was Cyrus seriously jealous over this? Of all things in the world that could possibly make him jealous, it was another man fixing your phone and offering to show you how to work on electronics.

“Are you seriously jealous right now?” you asked him lightly and moved forward to hug him. Cyrus tensed up by both things and stared forward blankly. “My Cy should know that I love only him,” you told him lovingly as you nuzzled your face into his shoulder, “You're acting like you did when we were younger.”

Cyrus suddenly seemingly had something snap in him as you felt his hand quickly grasp your chin. His lips pressed against yours as he held you closely to him.

“… If anyone shall teach you to tinker, it will be me.”

Well, if he was offering, you suddenly felt a bit more inclined to agree.

“Teach me how to make a Rotom fan.”

You loved the absolutely mortified expression you managed to draw out onto his face from that.

(You later spotted him doing his own diagnostic work on your phone and checking Volkner's handiwork. Judging by his expression, he was somewhere between impressed and angry. You just let him continue to work whatever feelings were haunting him out. It was always best to avoid his speeches about the uselessness of emotion and spirit when possible.)

[chvoswxtch]

Firstly, MA’AM NO you are not an idiot, tumblr is crazy dumb and eats asks all the time!

Secondly, shiiiiiit that fic got me messed up in the best way possible! 🫢 angry Matt is just 😏 dragging reader up by the throat? 🤤 the line “if he could just make it to heaven tonight he could leave hell behind” was powerful! And the safe word being Red of all things? Amazing. Reader being so gentle with him afterwards? 🥺 Double amazing. And don’t even get me started on the sensory overload part! That happens to me and it’s awful. “The Matt Whisperer” was great too! Thank you for writing this! 😘😘

The other request was much less sad 😅 reader and Matt are being goofs and playing “hide n seek and chase” in his stupidly large apartment and reader is really confident in their ability to hide and run from ‘blind’ Matty but Matt’s got the heightened senses thing going for him and maybe Matt’s taunting reader and saying… things… to get reader flustered? 🙃😬🙃

AHHHHH i'm so glad you enjoyed it nonnie 🥺 I totally feel you on that. I get sensory overload all the time with my anxiety and it is literally one of the worst feelings ever and makes me wanna bang my head against a wall. thank you so much for the request!

and thank you for this one too! I was like 99% sure that's what the request was for and I had already started writing it but then I couldn't find it and I panicked and was like WAIT FUCK WHAT WAS IT. so AGAIN, I hope this is what you were looking for. this one is a little bit shorter bc my brain just no worky worky lately but if you'd like a part 2 or anything please let me know! I just really wanted to get this out bc I promised at least 3 posts for my little celebration thingy so thank you again so much for the requests! ❤️

warning: contains explicit sexual content. as always, minors please dni. if you'd like to read this lovely nonnie's other req, you can find it here. ✨ word count: 2k

[part two]

hide & seek.

It had started off as a joke initially. You and Matt were a few beers and tequila shots deep at Josie’s, which always had you feeling more brave and confident than usual. It also brought out your competitive side, which is how you ended up taunting the devil and boastfully striking up a bet that he couldn’t catch you in a game of hide and seek. Matt’s brows had ridden considerably up his forehead in surprise, his head cocked to the side as he studied you with that goddamn smirk curling at the edge of his mouth in a beckoning manner, clearly amused that you were serious.

You should’ve known better. Matt was extremely competitive by nature, but when he was challenged and had something to prove? Not even God could stand in his way. He also had the advantage of his heightened senses, which put you having regular sight to shame. The man could literally tell when you were lying about how many cups of coffee you had actually had that day, when you changed your shampoo or body wash even if it was a subtle difference, and most of the time opened the door before you even had a chance to raise your fist to knock because he could hear you coming from three blocks away. That’s not even counting all the times he had caught you before you had a chance to trip over whatever you had missed in your path, or a curb that surely hadn’t always been there. He told you once that he could find you anywhere in the world, just by your scent alone, and you believed him. So why had you agreed to this? 

Oh. That’s right. Because of the stakes. Matt had a few rules for your little game. One, you had to play in the dark. To make it fair, he had insisted. Two, you would play in the safety of his apartment, which you argued was another unfair advantage. But you knew it almost as well as he did at this point, and it was spacious and away from…prying eyes. Because rule number three? You’d both be playing naked. He hadn’t even attempted to make up an excuse for that rule. He strictly wanted you naked so that it would be easier to claim his prize. 

The game was simple. If you won, Matt had to take you away for a weekend to a secluded cabin upstate. No daredeviling. No distractions. No clothes. Just the two of you, a hot tub, an actual tub, a fireplace, and a very large bed. If Matt won, you agreed to let him tie you up and deprive you of some of your senses, and let him see just how many times he could make you come in one night. Needless to say you both won either way, and you were nearly positive Matt would win. But, that didn’t mean you weren’t going to make him earn his victory. 

You tampered with the thermostat, trying to find a temperature just in the right space between cold and warm to make sure you weren’t shivering or sweltering. You showered with Matt’s shampoo and body wash, hoping it would throw him off your scent a bit. Trying to tame your excitement and nerves, you helped yourself to two double shots of tequila, hoping it would dull your heartbeat to a more inconspicuous pace. There were still a few hours left before Matt promised to be home from patrol, giving you a head start on finding a hiding spot without him hearing your every movement. He tried to make it fair, as fair as he could anyway, when you both knew the inevitable outcome. A part of you felt ridiculous, trying to hide from the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen himself, knowing exactly what he was capable of. But a bigger part of you was excited for the exact same reason. 

With just an hour to spare, you made sure to pace every square inch of Matt’s apartment, leaving your intermingling scents in as many spaces as possible to buy yourself some more time. Even though you had all but accepted your defeat, you didn’t want it to be over so quickly. After all, the chase was the aphrodisiac leading up to all the fun. You had settled on hiding in a cabinet beside the stove in the kitchen just wide enough for you to fit in that was close to a closet containing the water heater, hoping that would help conceal your body temperature. It was a spot you figured would be the last on Matt’s list to look, and it would get him on his knees. A win-win for you.

Matt shut the door to the roof that led down into the apartment a little louder than usual to signal to you wherever you were that he was home. You could faintly hear him shedding his boots, gloves, and suit as they were discarded on the worn wooden steps behind him. You tried your hardest not to let your heart run wild as silence filled your ears, hoping the noise of the water heater would drown you out just a little bit. You couldn’t hear Matt moving around, and you momentarily regretted your choice in hiding spots since you couldn’t see him. Although, that might have made it worse for you. If you could see him coming closer, your heartbeat would no doubt give you away. 

“Showered with my stuff, huh? Clever girl. But do you really think that’s going to save you, sweetheart? You really think you can outsmart the Devil?”

You had to close your eyes as Matt’s coarse voice cut through the silence. Matt knew how much of an effect his voice had on you, especially when he used his Daredevil voice. You didn’t even have to confess it. He had figured it out one night, while you were at Josie’s with Foggy and Karen, playing a game of pool on opposing teams. He had been teasing you relentlessly the entire night, his flirtatious comments getting more and more obscene to see just how far he could push you until you were begging him to drag you into the bathroom and fuck you shamelessly right there. Ever since that night, he used that knowledge to his advantage, making them a permanent part of foreplay.

“It’s cute you know, that you think you have a chance. Can’t say I don’t admire your efforts. But we both know I’m going to get what I want. Don’t we angel?”

His words sent a chill down your spine, and you instantly regret not making a rule of your own that Matt wasn’t allowed to talk. You couldn’t tell if he was actually having a hard time figuring out where you were hiding and was trying to get you worked up so he could draw you out that way, or if he was just genuinely enjoying fucking with you. Knowing him, it was the latter. Matt loved to tease you. He loved to get you needy for him, adored the way his name rolled off your tongue as you begged for mercy or more.

“C’mon sweetheart, don’t you wanna skip to the good part? Don’t you wanna let me make you feel good? If you give up now, I’ll have you coming in two minutes, tops. I promise.”

Squeezing your eyes shut tightly, you clamped your hand over your mouth as a shudder wracked through you. He wasn’t lying. You both knew that. There had been plenty of times you’d had to pry him away, hopelessly trying to warn him that Foggy and Karen would be back any second, or that you were already ridiculously running late. But he would just flash you that signature devilish grin, roll up his sleeves or set you up on the closest surface, sometimes getting on his knees, and whisper a promise into your ear. Two minutes, angel. The memories flooding through your head had you pressing your thighs together, and you heard him chuckle darkly.

“Hm, I see you’re considering my offer. Or rather, I can smell it, I should say. Oh sweetheart, if you only knew what I had planned for you tonight. You’d be giving up without hesitation. Maybe I should give you a little preview, hm? Would you like that, pretty girl?”

You hated how cocky he sounded. The fucker knew exactly what he was doing. He was pulling out all the stops, using every pet name he knew you loved, lowering his voice even deeper than you thought possible. You could faintly hear him moving around, avoiding all the spots in the floor that creaked or groaned under weight to keep his location from you. His voice was never far though, and that made you nervous. Was he even looking for you? Or had he already found you, and was waiting for you to give up?

“First things first, one of us is going to be on our knees. Who’s first, all depends on you. See, if you surrender and promise you’ve learned your lesson, I’ll be on my knees first. I won’t tease, won’t make you wait. I’ll bury my face in that sweet cunt of yours until you come, and reward you like the good girl I know you can be. And you know that won’t be the only time tonight my face will be between those pretty thighs. You know how much I love the way you taste, sweetheart. But, if you continue to be stubborn, and make me come get you, then I’m going to fuck that little throat of yours until you’ve learned not to taunt the Devil.”

You bit back a moan as hard as you could, pressing your thighs even tighter together. Another low snicker tore through the silence, and you could feel your wetness coating your inner thighs. It made even more sense now why Matt wanted you to play naked. He didn’t want anything coveting the scent of your arousal. He wanted the pure experience of it. No textures of fabric or other scents in the way. Just you, and what he was doing to you.

He knew exactly where you were. There’s no way he didn’t. You had no clue if he had figured it out the second he stepped into the apartment but continued to go along with your little game, or if he figured it out the second he started talking. It didn’t matter either way. He knew, and you had a choice to make. You could come quietly, give in and give him what he wanted, and revel in the fact you knew he would take it easy on you tonight for your cooperation. Or, you could continue to be defiant, force him to find you, and deal with the delectable consequences knowing he would really let you have it tonight.

If you didn’t get to have what you wanted, why should he?

A few moments of silence passed as Matt waited for you to make your decision. A sinister tsk tsk tsk echoed in the quiet when you refused to move from your spot. The sound caused a grin to spread across your face.

“So that’s how you wanna play tonight? Alright, sweetheart. Just remember, you asked for this.”

There was a warning laced in Matt’s words, and it only made the slick between your thighs worse. You didn’t bother trying to steady your heartbeat anymore, allowing it to thud in your chest as you waited in anticipation. Your brows furrowed slightly as seconds ticked by in silence. You couldn’t hear Matt moving around at all, and your mind raced with possibilities of what he was doing. A squeal of surprise sounded from you as the cabinet door was suddenly ripped open, revealing crouched down on his knees in front of you. The obnoxious billboard outside the apartment window was glowing red, and the crimson shadow it cast over Matt’s face and the way it illuminated the downright wicked grin on his lips made you squirm. 

Maybe you should have given in.

[delimeful]

carry them home (5)

warnings: magical oaths, mentions of past harm/captivity, miscommunication/lack of communication, PTSD, food scarcity, cliffhanger

-

From a very young age, Janus’s life had been nomadic in nature. He had traversed all kinds of terrain, with all kinds of people, in all kinds of conditions. Whether fleeing or pursuing, when it came to travel, he was confident in his experience.

The gaggle of children he was currently stuck with were decidedly not expert travelers.

They clearly all had some level of skill in surviving on their own; being what they were, they wouldn’t have gotten this far without knowing that much.

Most changelings did. Naivety didn’t tend to linger long in those that were hunted simply for existing, especially as beings that didn’t truly belong to one realm or the other.

The wisdom required to hide from an Iron Guard member and the knowledge required to set up a functioning campsite were two very different skills, however, and Janus’s current accommodations proved as much.

The sun was setting, and the children had essentially come to a stop where they were and planted themselves in various nooks and crannies, getting comfortable in the cold, damp woods the way only fae could.

Janus, as one of those pitiful creatures that was more vulnerable to the elements, was left decidedly less comfortable.

To the surprise of precisely no one, he hadn’t managed to convince Vee to allow him to unbind his hands, or even have his bound hands held in front of him, rather than behind.

In fact, he was fairly certain he’d ended their first day’s trek with double the restrictions he’d started with.

“Be quiet, you’re too loud. Are you trying to wake the whole forest?”

“Stop lurking. Stay ahead of me— not that ahead!”

“Don’t talk to him. Actually? Don’t even look at him.”

The most galling part was that most of the orders weren’t even fueled by malice. They seemed more compulsive than anything else, following a strange sort of logic: everything he did was suspect in Vee’s eyes, and so everything he did had to be restricted.

Such measures might have seemed reasonable to the twitchiest changeling he’d ever had the displeasure of meeting, but they were horrible for Janus’s burgeoning headache. The more rules he had to keep track of, the more likely it was that he would accidentally slip and earn himself a jolt of nerve-burning pain.

Particularly after Vee had snapped, red-faced, for Janus to stop making faces whenever the group’s progress was stalled by yet another bout of bickering.

Talk about cruel and inhumane. His mocking expressions were a key part of his personality, thank you very much.

All in all, it was a welcome change when Logan approached to take his own turn guarding the hostage. Janus had to work to not shift too visibly when the change in watchers took effect, the low buzz of pain from so many overlapping orders sloughing off his shoulders like shedding a heavy cloak.

It wasn’t anywhere near debilitating, but he hadn’t missed the sensation, and was glad to avoid it as much as possible.

Vee had slouched off resentfully, but Logan was still standing there, surveying him with a curious frown. His wings were folded neatly against his back even though there was nobody present to keep the secret of them from.

“How may I be of service,” Janus asked, wrangling his tone into something only slightly sardonic through pure force of will.

A small, familiar voice in the back of his mind suggested that maybe he could just ask them not to use so many overlapping commands at once. He ignored it as thoroughly as he did all ideas that might involve unnecessary vulnerability, and resisted the urge to smile sarcastically only because he didn’t want his ability to emote revoked again so soon.

“How did you break my charmspeak?” Logan asked, voice kept low enough not to disturb the others.

(Not that it seemed necessary. The only one within hearing distance was Patton, who was already sound asleep, going by the gurgly snoring. Vee had sulked off to the nearby shadows, and the two nature sprites had, oddly enough, vanished the moment they’d decided to stop for the night.)

Janus raised an eyebrow, thankfully painlessly. “Subverting magical compulsion is something I’ve trained extensively in.”

Of course, that ‘training’ wasn’t generally willing, but that was beside the point.

“Why?” Logan asked, not even seeming to realize that he was leaning in slightly.

“I like to be prepared,” Janus lied, because none of them had thought to order that he be truthful. It was a common flaw with fae and fae-adjacent– bald-faced lying was an abstract idea to them, rather than an automatic instinct the way it was for Janus.

The answer didn’t seem to satisfy the siren, going by his frustrated scowl and the ruffled feathers Janus could spy along the curve of his wings. They seemed oddly ragged, for someone as precise as Logan.

“It wasn’t your magic at fault,” Janus added, throwing the kid a bone. “All magic has loopholes. You must know that much, or you wouldn’t have taken the precaution of binding my hands.”

He wriggled his fingers in example, a mostly pointless gesture since his hands were hidden, wedged between the tree he leaned against and the rest of his body. “Speaking of, I don’t suppose you’d be willing to give me a little more freedom of motion? I have sworn my harmlessness under blood oath.”

Logan straightened up slightly, expression flattening back out. “It would be inadvisable to leave you unbound to exploit any more loopholes,” he replied tartly.

“If you keep turning my helpful advice against me, I’m going to stop giving it,” Janus told him, and then rode out a wave of sharp oath-induced discomfort before sourly adding, “That was a joke. Far be it from me to stop giving you advice. Loopholes are one thing, but an oathbreaker, I am not.”

“We’ll see.” Logan had returned to the curious frown; Janus must have reacted a bit more to the oath’s sting than he’d thought. What a shame, for the infamous Silvertongue’s poker face to falter from something as banal as disuse.

The words slipped out, sharper than he’d meant them to: “I’m sure we will. Now, are you finished, or is sleeping another basic privilege that you plan to strip from me?”

A flicker of panic shuddered through him, an automatic reflex from years of paying the price for sass. It was never a good idea to insult their pride and give them ideas in the same breath, especially not while under oath.

Logan, however, only stepped back slightly, feathery ear tufts flicking as he cleared his throat. “Right, of course. We can speak more while traveling.”

“Of course.” Janus managed a stiff nod, still half-braced for retaliation as he tried to drag his mind back into the present. There was no reason for them to lash out in such a way, particularly since depriving Janus of sleep would only lessen his use to them.

(There had been no real reason for them to do it back then, either. Amusement and ego were reason enough, for some.)

It took him far too long to recover, even after Logan had awkwardly retreated to a nearby perch and turned his attention to keeping watch. He felt a burst of frustration as he leaned his head back against the tree trunk and forced his eyes shut.

He’d truly grown too soft, if hardships as simple as these had him in such disarray.

–

The next few days passed in a similar manner, his metaphorical leash swapped between Vee and Logan with just enough irregularity to keep him tense, though he doubted it was on purpose.

He liked to believe he knew the difference between psychological tactics designed to unsettle and the improvised planning skills of a tween, anyways. Even if his shoulders had firmly transitioned from aching to numb by this point.

It wasn’t like they had much of a reference for human durability, even as changelings. There was a big difference between living with humans and living as a human, after all. Janus was mostly just impressed they’d remembered to feed him.

Vee, of all people, had been invaluable in that regard. Patton seemed confused about the logistics of raw versus cooked meat, Ro barely understood what it meant for something to be ‘inedible’, and Remus was actively and blatantly trying to poison him. Eating seemed to be an afterthought to Logan, to the point that Vee was likely the only reason he hadn’t wasted away.

That wasn’t to say meals were pleasant. Vee provided him with the bare minimum as though daring him to say something about it, a challenge that Janus wisely refrained from rising to. The lack of complaint only seemed to make the kid angrier, though, so there was no winning.

He wasn’t allowed to forage for ingredients, despite the fact that his oath wouldn’t have let him attempt to poison them if he’d wanted to, so it was only natural that the issue of rations would come up sooner rather than later.

“There should be a town nearby. I have enough coin to buy provisions, and could likely barter for anything else we might need,” he mentioned, already anticipating the wall of suspicion his words would be met with.

“As if you could be trusted to wander around a human town,” Vee snapped. “Do you think we’re stupid?”

“Of course not.” Janus barely held back an eyeroll. “I’m simply beginning to wonder if you actually understand how a blood oath works.”

“You–!”

“It’s an unnecessary risk,” Logan cut in, effectively ending the discussion. “We’re getting by fine as it is.”

Humans needed to eat more regularly than most fae, which meant that Janus didn’t particularly agree with that assessment of the situation, but he wasn’t about to say as much. The only one who seemed to know anything specific about human needs was Vee, who had already made it quite clear that he didn’t care to fulfill Janus’s.

Janus set his jaw, and didn't contradict him.

So be it. It was only for a little while. He’d endured much worse for much longer.

Things proceeded like that for another few days, with Logan plotting out a new and improved course towards the mountains and Vee herding the other changelings away from Janus like an agitated sheepdog at every opportunity.

They might have continued like that for weeks, held fast to an uneasy, meaningless truce all the way until the end of the oath period, if Logan hadn’t fallen ill.

[littleeyesofpallas]

Digging up these early scenes just reminds me how disappointing it was, not just that the whole Failsafe plot turned out stupid and drawnout and nonsense gibberish, but that it started off with SO MUCH potential.

Like, I actually do love the idea of Batman's Tower of Babel continency plan being brought back up to address the idea of what his own failsafe is. I love the idea that the whole scenario is actually a manufactured false positive on Failsafe's activation; that Bruce has been tricked into thinking he killed someone, and thus Failsafe has come online on the assumption that Batman has gone out of control.

Because if it weren't for the stupid introduction of Zur into this equation, I love that there should be a difference between the a real Bruce who is actually still abiding his code but has been implicated in a murder, vs the 12-move-ahead/5D-chess phantom of a purely hypothetical renegade Batman that Failsafe was supposedly programmed to take down.

Like, it could have been a great excuse to try and draw lines around how bad Batman is/isn't, because he's always going to be written such that goofy unaccounted for implications, bad writing, and fridge logic will make him out to be some kind of Frank Miller masked super fascist. But Batman having to outline for himself and for others what he would or wouldn't do, and how that defines what Failsafe's profiling, tactics, and capabilities are is a great excuse to address those things directly.

But more importantly, Failsafe's entire M.O. should have been very very clear. It doesn't need to be a fucking invulnerable super robot that can singlehandedly beat the JL; it doesn't need to have all of Tower of Babel rolled into it. It only needs to beat Batman, and by extension it needs to be built to keep the fight only between itself and Batman.

Like, after being immediately fought to a standstill in hand to hand, in gadgets and other hardware neutralized, and his navigation of Gotham either matched or cut off, Batman's next move should have been the contact the batfam, and he should have found his commlink blocked and hijacked by Failsafe. He should have made the move to contact Clark, and then the reset of the JL and found his emergency beacon, again neutralized. He should have been confident that the batfam or Supes would be able to deduce or detect that something was wrong when he went radio silent, only for Failsafe to be accurately mimicking his communications and life signatures. So not only can Bruce not ask for help, but everyone who tries to do any routine check ins only sees signs that everything is fine and normal.

The key to the entire fight shouldn't be Bruce thinking his way out on the fly, or having a plan, or being prepared, it should emphasize all the ways that once Failsafe is one step ahead, Bruce's only real plan B is his support network, and Failsafe should have cut him off from it. Because THAT's Batman's real weakness, that for all his planning and scheming, he's still just one guy and he knows it, and he trusts and relies on so many other people close to him to make up for that. And that as a theme is such a perfect antithesis to the Tower of Babel. The entire conflict should have been this game of cat and mouse of how Bruce survives without his teams, because in the situation where Batman would have to turn on the JL, that's the situation he'd be left in: without his team.

And more over, as the Most Dangerous Game routine drags on, it should also shed light on how, both in the past and the future, Gotham operates without a Batman.

But the real twist to the whole thing should have been Batman having to turn to Gotham's villains for help, not only because they know how to fight him, but because they're the only people Failsafe wouldn't have been designed to cut him off from. And other than just making for some fun team ups, ultimately his ability to communicate, negotiate, and empathize with villains is the thing that would prove he wasn't the heartless fanatical murderer that Failsafe was designed to stop in the first place.

[tobiasdrake]

Amazing how, despite the absence of Peacekeepers in our face right this second, this is nonetheless the worst its ever been.

I'm not saying Makoto fucked us all. ...but I'm not not saying that. If things continue down this path, Makoto will have killed Huesca and destroyed the Nocturnal Detective Agency, something Yomi's been trying and failing to do for weeks, all in one fell swoop. Yomi will get to ride the high of killing us all and Makoto gets to go home secure in the knowledge that he made this checkmate happen.

Assuming this is the outcome that he intended to happen, of course. But I've watched Makoto work Yomi over. Man's playing 4-D chess while we're all playing checkers. It is highly possible that he meant all of this to happen.

So this is our motive. To escape the base, we have to find Fink and prove his existence to Yomi - Which will likely involve some retaliatory soul-reaping to avenge Yakou.

Probably not. Like I said earlier, if all of these security measures are stopping us from leaving then they may be stopping Fink from leaving too. It's possible he's still in the building. If he didn't get out before they turned off the elevator, he may even still be on this floor.

Right now, Yomi's licking his wounds and figuring out what to do with us. We have breathing room. This is the perfect time to act.

Desuhiko's not wrong and this is a common complaint I have with Yuma's behavior. But it's better than sitting around with our thumbs up our asses, wondering how long until Yakou draws his final breath.

If Halara's with us then we must be on the right path! Let's do this!

Astral projection. Which means if we hold his hand, we can astral project too.

Hold up, condition? You gonna tell me what that means, big guy?

I will tear you in half little man.

I mean, I won't. But if you swing on Vivia, I will offer Halara a fiver to snap you in two. I don't even care that Vivia could outfight you in his sleep. They can both kick your ass together.

It's astral projection. I knew it. This spiritual ability is probably also why he can see Shinigami. He has one foot in the plane that she exists on.

This is going to be fun. I can't wait to Coalesce with it! Vivia, you and I are going to be the best of partners.

CHOKE ON YOUR TONGUE. I wanna be a gho~ost! T_T

He is looking right at Shinigami as he says this. He knows exactly what's going to happen if he helps us.

No, we won't. Yomi's a fascist prick. Before Halara showed up, he was kicking Yakou's body to help him die faster. We're supposed to trust that guy with Yakou's medical care?

You and me both, my guy. I feel you. I'd love to live in that world too. But it isn't what we have. It's important to always keep moving forward, to keep striving to build a better world to live in. But to always keep one eye on the world that presently exists.

I wish I could believe that Yomi is a good-hearted well-meaning guy who will engage with us in good faith and offer Yakou the care that he deserves. I wish I could have faith that our situation is such.

But I don't. His behavior has given me zero confidence in his willingness or ability to treat us fairly.

Too harsh, Halara. While I agree that Vivia should help me commit long-range remote-murder, I can't fault him for his reluctance to do so. He's got a good heart.

Yes to that first one; He does seem violently concerned about the presence of the Book of Death among us, and its involvement in our activities. Rightly so. It's killing people.

Vivia once again cutting to the thematic heart of these investigations. Through the Mystery Labyrinth, the price we pay for the answers we find far outweighs the value of those answers. We trade lives in exchange for secrets that weren't worth those lives.

Should he truly help us do it? Take the blood upon his hands, the same as ours? Desuhiko and Halara can't fathom what he's talking about because they don't know. They don't understand what's at stake here. But Vivia knows. He sees the monster that lurks over Yuma's shoulder and feeds on souls unjustly condemned.

I hope he sticks to his guns. I know he won't, 'cause we have a case to crack and game mechanics won't let us just call it here. But this is a strong moment for him.

Oh, we're going to trick him. Wow. That's dangerous. We don't even know if we'll be able to get our soul back in its body without his help.

Never mind, he knew exactly what we were on about.

Yeah, he rolled over fast. "I won't do the thing because I'm morally opposed to it. I have no qualms with helping you do the thing, though. It's not the doing of the thing that I'm against; I just don't want to do it myself."

SPOOKY GHOST. This is awesome. I'm going to investigate so many things and they won't be able to stop me. And maybe finally take my chance to rub my butt on Yomi's desk like I promised.

Gotta keep my word, y'know. It's called integrity.

[hookaroo]

Laden of the Torn (8 of 25)

AO3 link Catch up on tumblr: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Tagging @priscilla9993 @cocohook38 <3

***

How could one man's nose, monstrous though it was, be responsible for such an ungodly racket? Tearing through the glass-peaked canyons, sound waves like a cross between an enraged hornet's nest and a shoal of frenzied mermaids rattled the slab acting as Killian’s backrest. It had seemed prudent not to stretch himself flat and expose more surface area to the brutally jagged terrain, but apparently, his total exhaustion was not enough to allow sleep in an upright position. And now this nonsense.

Killian gingerly shifted his weight, and even the scrape and rattle of chains as his heavy shackle skittered along the stone was muffled by Blackbeard's drunken droning. The ring of chafed skin beneath the band encircling Killian's ankle burned with the movement. If only he had his hook back, or even a sturdy dagger; perhaps then he could work one of the links out of shape to at least be rid of the ball’s encumbrance. But as he reached down, intent on sliding the metal higher and onto less irritated flesh, the chain clanked again and Blackbeard snorted awake. He didn't even bother to open an eye.

"Go to bed, Hook."

"I pity every last man on your crew," grumbled Killian in reply. "How many have been flogged for nodding off while on duty?"

Blackbeard's snoring resumed, even louder than before, and Killian sighed bitterly. The bastard had the most selective hearing he had ever witnessed.

A brief image flashed into his mind, that of himself using the blasted spherical anchor to bash the rival pirate's head in. But the chain was too short to accommodate a height of any more than an inch or two above the ringleted skull, and as he'd already discovered, the blood pulsing into his own injured head as he hunched over to lift the ball would soon have him faceplanting onto the razor rocks at his feet. Still, the thought was a tempting one.

“Just what the bloody hell are we doing here, anyway? Are you ever going to tell me, or do I have to figure it out all on my own?”

Grunting irritably, Blackbeard opened one eye and gave his captive a sideways glance. “What, so you can devise a way to escape? I don’t think so. I told you: I’m getting my money’s worth out of you.”

“And just how do you intend to do that, exactly? In case you hadn’t noticed, this is hardly the heart of high society, here. Do you even have a clue where we are?”

“Of course I do. The legendary Blackbeard is never lost.”

“Is that so?” Killian grinned tauntingly, though he certainly felt less than prepared for banter at the moment. “All right then. Prove it.”

With a hugely exaggerated eye roll, Blackbeard reached into an inner pocket. “Fine. If it will finally get you to shut up for once…”

He drew out a folded parchment and held it between his first two fingers, barely making any effort to angle it in Killian’s direction. Killian leaned stiffly closer and plucked the offering from his grasp.

“A treasure map,” he said as he unfolded the grubby bit of crumpled parchment. “That’s your grand scheme.”

“Give me at least some credit, Hook. I’m not likely to spend a small fortune on an expedition to nowhere.”

Killian still could not see anything to make him believe this was anything other than an ordinary treasure map. A complicated one, to be sure, with a maze-like route that undoubtedly purported to navigate them through the current mess of narrow canyons. No key provided any interpretation for the scattering of symbols marking the parchment. “Then where is this taking us?”

Killian immediately spotted some false confidence in Blackbeard’s demeanor as he snatched the map back.

“If the ancient tales of this place have any truth to them… we’ll soon have the pleasure of meeting some powerful magic-wielders; creatures with the ability to grant anyone their heart’s fondest desires.”

Dubious eyebrow raised, Killian settled back against the rock face. “Creatures? What, like mythical beasts?”

Blackbeard returned the map to his breast pocket. A hint of defensiveness colored his tone as he carefully replied,

“The legends tend to describe beings more… simian in shape.”

“Monkeys?” Killian scoffed. “Magical wish-granting monkeys? I always knew you were a wily devil, but I somehow missed the fact that you were also a madman.”

“Mock all you like; this ‘madman’ will soon be celebrating riches beyond your wildest dreams.” Blackbeard tilted his hat forward over his eyes and folded his arms, prepared to resume his slumber. 

“Aye? And what’s my role in all of this? Surely you could have moved faster without the burden of an unwilling traveling companion.”

“Did I forget to mention?” Blackbeard didn’t move, seemingly not interested in Killian’s reaction to his provocation. “The going rate for wishes in this land is a mere human sacrifice. A bargain, if you ask me. I hear the monkeys consider roasted human flesh a delicacy. Although your aged bones may need a bit of extra time on the spit to properly tenderize.”

Ignoring the gibe, Killian made no effort to conceal his skepticism. “All right, mate. Say for a moment that I believe you. Once we’re in the monkeys’ clutches, what’s to keep them from feasting on both of us? Seems a dangerous gamble for such an unlikely reward.”

“Not all of us are as jaded as you are, old man. These monkeys are moral creatures. They honor their deals.” He shifted his weight slightly. “Speaking of deals… I believe you now owe me a bit of quiet.”

Killian rolled his eyes, even though the other man couldn’t see. “You’ve a disturbing amount of faith in these nonsensical stories of yours.”

Blackbeard didn’t respond, and soon, the buzz-rumble had returned. 

Though he’d expressed so much doubt for the sake of appearances, Killian had too much life experience to dismiss the legends outright. Most folk tales had some element of truth to them, and even if the magical beings inhabiting this hostile land were not actual monkeys, he had no intention to treat them with anything but caution. Magic had never been particularly kind to him.

But what if they really could grant a heart’s desire?

***

“Watch yourself, Hook,” sneered Blackbeard from up ahead. Killian picked himself up yet again, inspecting the newest addition to the dozens of cuts and scrapes already adorning his elbows, knees, and hips. He glared at his nemesis, who was in much the same state, though due to the percentage of his blood that was actually alcohol, Killian doubted the other man could feel any of it.

“You don’t say,” gritted Killian. Blackbeard stumbled, but somehow remained upright. Killian made a note of the obstruction so he could avoid a similar incident.

Their second day of navigating the menacing canyons, Killian was already completely lost. Lingering wooziness did not help his sense of direction one bit. Blackbeard frequently consulted his map, purloined from gods-only-knew-where, allegedly leading to the cannibal, wish-granting monkeys fabled to live in this inhospitable location. But knowing the way and being able to traverse the terrain were two different things. And now they were running low on water.

The pair rounded a bend and came to a rare clearing, where the walls widened into more than the average arm’s length they had grown accustomed to seeing. In the center stood a gnarled, sickly tree, also an oddity since leaving the road. Blackbeard made a grunt of satisfaction and tucked the map into his pocket. 

“Over there, Granddad. Time to get well-acquainted with some tree bark.”

Grudgingly, Killian followed Blackbeard to the tree, watching as he fished a length of rope from his satchel. 

“Is this where your monkey friends live? Inside a decaying old tree? Doesn’t appear very magical to me.”

“Don’t worry; this is only a quick layover. We’ve quite a ways to go yet.” 

Killian engaged in a token struggle as Blackbeard grabbed his arm and shoved him back against the tree trunk, but secretly, he was glad of the opportunity to rest. His whole body ached, and his ankle was so chafed from the ball and chain that he wouldn’t have been surprised to find smears of blood beneath the iron band. 

“I don’t expect this to hold you for long,” Blackbeard commented, wrapping the rope around the trunk. He fashioned a quick noose with one end, slipped it around Killian’s neck, and then bound his hand with the other end. Now, too much movement of that arm would tighten the loop encircling his neck. “But it would be foolish to try and find your way out of here without this.”

He flashed the map in front of Killian’s face, then stuffed it back into the front of his coat. Cautiously testing his bindings and making no effort to disguise his movements, Killian growled,

“More foolish than peacefully accompanying you to my death?”

Blackbeard shrugged. “Try it, then. You have no chance of outdistancing me.” He rooted around in the bottom of his satchel for a moment and located Killian’s hook, sneering,

“Don’t want you getting your hand on this.”

Then, after also pulling out their empty waterskins, he tossed his satchel carelessly nearby. “If you do get the gumption to lose the ropes, feel free to clean yourself up. I’m off to fetch water. It’s a bit out of the way and it would take three times as long if I dragged your dead weight along with me.” 

He inspected his knots once more and then patted Killian condescendingly. “Be a good little sacrifice and stay put.”

Killian didn’t waste time watching Blackbeard swagger off; instead, he sank slowly to a seated position, careful to allow the rope enough slack that he didn’t choke himself along the way. Almost immediately, he located a protruding piece of bark and got to work loosening the knot securing his wrist. He didn’t expect his captor to have overlooked any means of self-defense in the satchel, but he was hoping a certain other item may have been deemed unimportant enough to be forgotten…

[mooshs-crack-headcanons]

Do you have any gameplay ideas for Lucia (Devil May Cry)?

Oh okay, that's a new type of question I've never been asked before. People on here don't tend to talk about gameplay aspects on here that much and tend to just talk about the characters - or at from what I've seen my three years on this site. But I'll take it sure!

Well, I'm not the best person to ask since I'm not really a game designer but I think I can think of at least a couple ideas to put her in more on how modern dmc 3-5 characters play with more complexities than Dante/Lucia/Trish had in dmc 1 and 2.

Okay to start off if Lucia would ever be hypothetically playable in a future dmc game she doesn't necessarily need new weapons, pretty much everyone else who isn't Dante with his ridiculous amount of weapons that only gets larger and larger with each game, specifically Nero, Vergil, Lady and Trish in dmc 4 proves this that small arsenals and tools you can work with like the devil bringer which you can throw in a buster whenever in a combo you like to add a little ✨️style spice✨️ A small rotation I find easier to work with and even so everything in that small rotation has a long list of moves and combos that you can steadily form your patterns you can strategize certain take downs for specific enemies.

But that's not saying you can't add anything new for her though, however including all the unlockable blades and knifes she could get in dmc 2 I think she should be okay as long as maybe you change some of their move sets to moreso differentiate them and make them each more unique instead of same knife/blade but reskinned and stronger. Again while you don't have to change anything like what she comes with, just look at Vergil the guy has had the same 4 weapons (counting summon swords) and basic play style since he was more formally introduced in dmc 3 and therefore being playable. However if they do go down this route with adding new things I hope they pull a dmc 4 revamp on us because playable Vergil from dmc 3 and playable Vergil from dmc 4 are very different beats. Dmc 3 Vergil is very, very simple and basic in his move set, similar to current day Lucia actually but - and this is true about every single version of Vergil since he's been playable - he is very overpowered. Like I don't know if this is because I've been playing dmc 3 since almost day 1 that it came out and I'm old but I don't know maybe it's just me but even in very hard and dante must die he makes the entire fucking game feel like a joke. Dmc 4 however (and don't get wrong he is still fucking overpowered as shit compared to everyone else in the game, he can absolutely break the entire game like he can in 3 if you know how to properly use him) I think he's less as OP in higher difficulties (I'm going to be 100% real here enemies in dmc 4 on human and devil hunter are like punchable paper once you play those higher difficulties just once and its veeeery noticeable) however to compensate for more heavy tankable enemies (Vergil in every mode is still a boss deleter no matter what) they they completely revamped his 3 moveset, keeping the all the simplicities and they MEGA built off it in literally every way; new moves, new combos, the motivation concentration meter and mechanics, new summon sword abilities, playable executable judgment cut end 💀, ect. But Lucia doesn't have to be as overpowered and game breaking, I think personally that should stay with just Vergil as like a gimmick afterall he has been that OP since day one and no other characters except Dante in a good several amount of occasions (dmc 4 and 5 particularly) have been able to be on that same level. But in a way story wise her being more strong and confident in her abilities moreso than in dmc 2 would show off more character development and being able to show that off in gameplay would be just perfect.

Sooo learning from that take her simplistic moveset and just revamp it in a similar fashion and that way she could still feel like better dmc 2 version of herself but she'd get more unique moves and combos and maybe build up her older playstyle in a way that feels more in tune with modern dmc without disrespecting her original playable debut despite the unfortunate game she came from, which I always thought anyway that out of the main two out of box playable characters (so not counting Trish who is better out of all three of them by miles) that she always felt good and better to play than the clunky, sword useless, Dante in that game.

Devil trigger gameplay? Since 2 and besides Dante's sin trigger in dmc 5 which is its own can of worms mechanically and runs off its own system very different then how it was dmc 2, no one else really has had a flying form and how it worked in 2 so if they just kept that exclusive to Lucia and modified it where A. It'd feel comfortable to play in modern gaming standards B. Expand on it, maybe make her airborne like 99% of the time and incorporate that into trigger exclusive moves maybe she can switch between the elemental moves that where in dmc 2 just you can switch between them on the fly without having to go through subscreens and menus and it doesn't cancel out your trigger gage and maybe each one has its own pool of moves besides being just that element boosting already established attacks, making it when you do trigger you do have more options and moves to integrate into your combo chain each time ect.

Uhm and I think that's all I have to say about it? Sorry if this was rambled and I didn't explicitly give much ideas this was just the way I think if Lucia ever were to be playable again (which honestly I really do hope, it fucking sucks she's chained down to such a "Yes it is actually that bad as everyone says it is." of a game) this is the technical ways I think Capcom should go about it.

Tldr: Take Lucia's very simplistic moveset from dmc 2 and treat it with a make over like they did with Vergil's from dmc 3 going into 4. Devil trigger should be mostly the same taking in the flight mechanics from dmc 2 and making it Lucia's own while incorporating the element mechanics that would also give her new moves to work with while in trigger.

Thank you for the ask btw!

[skylarmoon71]

Lance Sweets (Bones) - Crossover AU - Chapter 11

“I’m actually really excited for this trip.”

The second you both take a seat on the train, Sweets looks ready for adventure. It’s kind of cute to watch. It pulls off after a few minutes and your eyes drift to the window.

“Is there a reason we’re going by train?” He asks.

“People tend to have more panicked reactions on planes. I’ve learned to control my powers, but it gets overwhelming when you can hear the rapid heartbeat of more than two dozen people. I’m more relaxed on trains. Although it’s loud, it’s much better than frantic or anxious people.”

“That does make sense.”

Sweets is always curious about so much. There’s a part of you that still wonders how you were so lucky. He could have just as easily made your life hell. But his gut reaction after finding out your secret was to protect you. Something you greatly appreciate.

“Do you know I can moderate my strength?”

He basically springs up in his seat.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

You smile to yourself at the memory.

“When I was younger I wanted to be on the track team. My parents were against it for obvious reasons. So I tried out to prove that I could control my abilities. I made the team easily. Even though they were worried, they still came to support me at my first track meet.”

Once again, you reach for your necklace. It’s instinct at this point.

“My coach warned me to be careful. Some of the girls from the rival team were known for playing dirty. I didn’t think much of it. After all, I'm bulletproof. My event started and I was waiting for the baton. My teammate was in the lead. During the passover one of the girls from the rival team tried to spike me with her shoes. I didn’t even feel it until I heard her crying for help on the ground. She broke her ankle. It was completely twisted to the point that her skin had changed color. The race was stopped and she was disqualified for cheating.”

Sweets seems to get the message. His eyes fall at the realization.

“All she did was graze my leg and she broke a bone. After that, I understood. It wasn’t that they didn’t trust me, they just realized how much I was capable of. My parents knew how heartbreaking it would be if someone got hurt because of me. They were trying to spare me the pain, even if it made them the enemy. My dad tried to encourage me to go back out, but I knew better. Since that day I’ve learned to moderate my strength. I can’t control whatever comes in contact with my body, but I can control how much force I dish out.”

“I always wondered why that guy only got a concussion. Especially after he literally stabbed you.”

You laugh at his statement.

“I’ll admit that I used a little more force with him.”

Sweets just smile.

“As you should.”

The rest of the trip you exchange stories. At one point Sweets had fallen asleep. It was a long trip. That’s why when his head lulls on your shoulder, you don’t think much of it. His even breaths, then the scent of his cologne. The soft curls of his hair. You’re overly conscious of a lot recently.

Like how easy it is to confide in him.

How readily you’d trusted him with so much when you had very little reason too. Yes, he did say that he wanted to be a friend, but you’ve never been someone who trusts others. Especially with something as delicate as your secret.

Most of the conversations that you’ve had were just more reasons to rely on him.

Like a few weeks ago.

“I’ve finished it.”

He handed you back the journal, and you expect the usual happy expression, but he seems almost sad.

“Hey what's wrong? My life story is pretty much an open book now. We should be way past the tears.” You mean it as a joke.

“(Y/N).”

His tone is so serious, and now you’re worried.

“No matter what happens, I want you to know that you can trust me. I’d never betray you. You need to know that.”

You aren’t sure where he got such a notion. But then you realize that he’s a shrink. It’s obvious that he’s analyzed every word in that book. That doubled with your reaction to him learning the truth, it’s obvious that he realizes that your biggest fear is trusting the wrong person and getting hurt.

Your parents engraved an ideal that you needed to constantly protect yourself. Because they understood that they wouldn’t always be around to do it. The crossover of all those life lessons, they play a big part in who you are today.

Now you feel as though you need to make a confession of your own.

“I trust you Sweets.”

You’ve never outwardly said it, he needs to hear it.

“I trust you.”

It's easy to say that you’ve never uttered those words to anyone.

You never thought the first person you uttered those words too would be a shrink.

His little snores pull you back. You hide a grin, because he’s actually started to slightly drool on your shoulder. You can’t help it, you need to take this opportunity. You lean a bit closer.

“Is that Dr. Brennan and Agent Booth kissing?”

Sweets jump upright, wide awake.

“Where!!”

His messy hair, doubled with the little trail of saliva, you try to maintain a stoic expression. He takes a moment, but then his unimpressed expression turns to you.

“That’s hilarious.”

He grumbles groggily.

It was definitely worth it.

[ktf1official]

As Daniel Ricciardo prepares for the start of the 2024 Formula 1 season, he can't help but feel that a new chapter in his racing career is about to unfold. The Australian driver, known for his infectious smile and daring overtaking moves, has been a mainstay in the sport for over a decade now. But as he approaches his mid-30s, Ricciardo says that the 2024 season feels like the "second part" of his F1 career is just beginning.

"I've had some incredible experiences in the sport so far, but I really feel like I'm entering a new phase of my career now," Ricciardo said in an interview with F1.com. "I've learned so much in my time in Formula 1, and I really feel like I'm in the prime of my racing abilities. I'm eager to see what the future holds."

Ricciardo burst onto the F1 scene in 2011 with the HRT team before moving to Toro Rosso and then landing a coveted seat at Red Bull Racing in 2014. During his time with the energy drink team, he scored numerous victories and became known as one of the most exciting talents on the grid. His daring, wheel-to-wheel battles with the likes of Lewis Hamilton and Sebastian Vettel made him a fan favorite.

In 2019, Ricciardo made the move to Renault, hoping to challenge for race wins and podiums with the French outfit. However, the team's struggles to consistently deliver a competitive car left him frustrated at times. But the Australian never lost his trademark smile and positive attitude, even during difficult moments.

Now, as he gears up for the 2024 season, Ricciardo finds himself with a new team once again, this time at McLaren. The Woking-based team enjoyed a resurgence in form in recent years, and Ricciardo is eager to build on the success of the team.

"I feel like I'm joining McLaren at a really exciting time," Ricciardo said. "The team has made great strides in recent seasons, and I'm confident that we can compete for podiums and victories. I really believe that we have the potential to challenge for the championship in the coming years, and I'm excited to be a part of that journey."

With the 2024 regulations bringing sweeping changes to the sport, including new technical regulations and the introduction of sustainable fuels, Ricciardo is eager to see how the competitive landscape of F1 will shift. He knows that the new era of Formula 1 will provide a fresh challenge, and he's ready to embrace it with open arms.

"I feel like the 2024 season is the start of something new for me," Ricciardo said. "I'm more experienced and more motivated than ever before, and I'm ready to give it my all. This feels like the second part of my Formula 1 career, and I can't wait to see what the future holds."

As the 2024 Formula 1 season kicked off, all eyes were on Daniel Ricciardo, the Australian racing star known for his natural talent and infectious personality. After a few challenging seasons, Ricciardo made a bold statement, declaring that the 2024 season feels like the "second part" of his F1 career starting.

Ricciardo's journey in Formula 1 has been nothing short of remarkable. His rise to fame began in 2014 when he secured his first Grand Prix victory at the Canadian Grand Prix. From there, he continued to impress with his fearless driving and unparalleled speed, earning the nickname "The Honey Badger" for his aggressive yet smooth racing style.

However, as the years went on, Ricciardo faced his fair share of setbacks. A move to the Renault team in 2019 didn't yield the results he had hoped for, and a switch to McLaren in 2021 proved to be a challenging transition as well. Despite these challenges, Ricciardo remained resilient, always pushing himself to perform at the highest level.

Now, as the 2024 season begins, Ricciardo finds himself at a crossroads in his career. With a new set of regulations in place, he sees this as an opportunity to rewrite the narrative and make a fresh start. He has expressed a renewed sense of optimism and determination, stating that he feels like the "second part" of his F1 career is about to begin.

With his characteristic smile and positive attitude, Ricciardo exudes a sense of confidence and readiness for the challenges that lie ahead. He has been working closely with the McLaren team to adapt to the new regulations and fine-tune his driving style to maximize the car's potential.

As the season progresses, Ricciardo hopes to make a statement on the track, showing the world that he is not done yet and still has plenty to offer in this high-octane sport. With a competitive field of drivers vying for the top spot, the 2024 season is shaping up to be one of the most exciting in recent memory.

Ricciardo's bold declaration has sparked a renewed excitement among fans and pundits alike. Many are eager to see how he will fare in this "second part" of his career and whether he can reclaim his status as one of the sport's elite drivers.

As the season unfolds, one thing is for certain – Daniel Ricciardo is ready to write the next chapter in his Formula 1 career, and the world will be watching with bated breath as he embarks on this new journey.

[luckyy19]

Cyrus makes a mess, Viola cleans it up

Viola considered the young man lying on her couch, staring at her ceiling with eyes that saw nothing. When she first met him, she thought that he must have been a prince. Or, considering Estra had no noble class, descended from wealth. That pale complexion, that cheerfully naive attitude, the way he sprawled across everything as though he owned it ….All tied together with that wild magic he could barely control. Everything about him had screamed aristocracy to her and the heart of Estra was no place for Eshian aristocracy. It was why she had tried to kill him when they first met. Then he took out her best fighters without laying a finger on them and Viola reconsidered her opinion of him. The Izmane moral compass was well known for being fickle and pointing towards wealth and power rather than the best option. He was gambling with his life, seeking her out. It made her respect him all the more for it.

Cyrus’s eyes narrowed and a light began to flicker on behind the bland sheen. He told her about the struggle, once. The fight he had to begin every time he went too long without using his abilities. He compared it to a muscle that, left unused, would begin to ache until he flexed it. Viola understood. Everything had a price. She had learned that from her father long before her mother died, and this was Cyrus’s. He blinked rapidly and let out a low groan, flinging an arm over his eyes. Unable to stop herself, Viola smiled. “Having a rough night, are we?” “Shut up.” “No, no. It’s pronounced ‘thank you Viola for preventing me from losing my job.’” His arm lowered so he could look her in the eye. “You wouldn’t have fired me.” Cyrus was significantly paler but not nearly as pale as he normally was. It gave her the boost of anger she needed. “Awfully confident for someone who was just in the heads of—” “I tried to tamp it down.” “Well, you didn’t,” she snapped. Guilt flickered across his face but she refused to feel bad about it. “We have a deal, Cyrus. You told me you could handle this and you’re doing a terrible job of proving it to me.” Cyrus snorted. “Oh, woe is me,” he said dryly. “I live to please you, Miss Izmane. Please, tell me how I can better serve your great—” “I get it, I get it,” she said with an eye roll. “You’re very funny.” “I like to think so.” He sighed, shifting into a half-sitting, half-lying position, propping his head up on the armrest. “Are you kicking me out?” “For the night.” Cyrus groaned, running his hands down his face. “Great.” “Phoebe?” Viola asked hesitantly. “Yeah.” Almost lazily, he rolled his head to look her in the eye. “I shouldn’t be around people right now. I can’t go home tonight. I don’t want to hurt her.” It took monumental effort to hold his gaze without emotion. They both knew what would happen if he was left alone to let the magic fester inside of him. He would recover eventually, but none of it would be pretty. “Cyrus, you can’t do that to yourself.” “Are you volunteering?” he asked, one fine brow arched. It was infuriating how well versed he was in lazy arrogance, every motion potentially disingenuous. Seven years and she was still learning to speak his language. He laughed softly, turning away. “Of course not.” “I’m not letting you leave without—” “So you’ll stay and help me?” he asked, quick as a whip and once again catching her off guard. Waiting just long enough for it to be apparent she had nothing to say, he let out an amused huff. “I thought as much.” Viola swallowed. “Cyrus,” she said as gently as she could manage, which wasn’t very gentle at all. “You should go home—” “I’m so glad I speak to hear the sound of my own voice. It has a lovely cadence, doesn’t it?” She took a breath. Gods, he was infuriating.

[flyboypoedameron]

  ‘ aftermath ‘(not saying I've been thinking about FO!Poe and Kylo getting shot down or something during some Rebellion Raid but I def have been)

The alarms for the hull integrity were blaring, ringing in his ears as his fingers went to his forehead pulling away and seeing the crimson staining his fingertips. Where did they even come from? There was nothing on the ship monitors. He tried to turn around and look at his passenger, Ren. He saw another blast, direct hit. Kriff!

The explosions seemed to happen in slow motion. It was only earlier today that he was practically bragging about how easy this excursion would be to his Supreme Leader.

----------- (flashback-backstory )

Over the weeks of Poe's recovery from the most recent reconditioning, he had managed to get permission to study some data pads on the First Order Fleet of ships. He was the perfect student, never stepping out of line. Always agreeing when Kylo told him that was enough for the day. He would grow more confident and suggest new ways to optimize the fleets abilities. Boosting speed and hull integrity, shaving off seconds between weapon discharge so they could inflict more damage than they ever had before. He was positively beaming when Kylo gave him access to his Special forces TIE. " I promise you, you won't be disappointed Supreme Leader, Thank you...thank you so much!" They had been in the shared quarters, and he jumped to hug him, forgetting himself for a moment. " Forgive me, I'm just so excited to work on a ship....THIS ship."

He took a few weeks to work out everything that could be upgraded or tweaked to provide optimal flight and weaponry, and walked Kylo through all the new improvements he had made. He wasn't allowed to pilot yet, but he knew this was a step in the right direction. He was proving himself as a useful member to the First Order, and more importantly to the Supreme Leader.

When Kylo told him of the plans to run a short intelligence scouting mission, Poe's jaw nearly hit the floor. "Sir?" he thought he must've misheard the other. " You want---you want me to accompany you---out---of course yes please, thank you!" he chuckled In absolute delight and began rambling things off at a light speed to Ren. He could hardly hide his excitement. The day for their mission was only a few days away, and he was buzzing the entire time.

When the morning came, he popped out of bed and dawned his tailored First Order flight suit, specifically designed by Kylo. He had surprised him with it the night before, it fit him perfectly. He waited for Kylo to open the door between the sections of their shared compartment and did a little spin " What do you think? I pull it off yeah?" Smiling ear to ear he then went to stand at attention, waiting for Kylo's signal that they could leave the room together.

It was all a blur but when they finally arrived at the ship bay, he pointed out the new features he had fixed up in the last twenty four hours, and did the pre-flight check to make sure everything was in order. He was a boy again, his mother letting him fly for his first time. He hadn't been off ship for...he didn't know how long. It had been entirely too long, he could breathe again. He could fly, so he could breathe.

All the necessary safety checks had been completed and he made sure they were all set, coordinates and all. "Ready with permission to fly" He said waiting for the go ahead from Kylo. "Permission granted" he said from behind Poe and he didn't need any other encouragement.

Letting out a deep sigh from the adrenaline building he engaged the thruster and exited the ship bay. His eyes brimming with tears as he saw the glory of the stars once again, he couldn't help but exclaim in excited obscenities as he punched the ship into warp.

The emerged near the outer rim. They were on a routine mission to check to see if the resistance was trying to rebuild outside of the First Orders reach. Poe was showing Kylo some tricks and maneuvers when he thought he spotted something, but it must've just been a trick of his mind.....

-------(current time)

" No---no where did they come from?! There's....theres NOTHING on the radar----" he swiveled to look through the ships windows and saw two old republic era X-wing fighter jets, "Wha--what?!" He felt like he was out of his body, a flash of his life before, it was part of his old Black Squadron. Snap. Snap Wexley was the one that had shot their engines. A critical shot as a matter of fact. It can't be he thought as he sent out the distress signal, briefly he made eye contact with Snap, and the other visibly paled and withdrew the attack. The Special Forces TIE was spinning uncontrollably, Poe was doing his best to keep it in line, but he was losing hope at their survival.

"Sir--sir we're....oh maker, I'm so sorry---we're going to have to crash land----computer says were nearby ---uh Benetage, it's the best we've got..." he plugged in the coordinates and attempted to guide the ship down into the planets atmosphere. "It's going to get pretty bumpy...."