#team objective mode

[adriaticpulse]

Moonray stiže na PlayStation 5 u 2025. godini

Moonray, arena borbena igra koju razvija studio istog imena, Moonray Studios, službeno će se lansirati na PlayStation 5 (PS5) u 2025. godini. Trenutno dostupna besplatno za igranje na PC-u putem EPIC Games Storea i Steama, igra će se uskoro proširiti na konzolno tržište zahvaljujući odobrenju Sonyja za razvoj PS5 verzije. Iako točan datum izlaska za PS5 još nije objavljen, razvojni tim Moonraya…

[totallyseiso]

Maybe if I keep playing world tour mode I'll eventually get a team that knows how to play and the match won't be terrible and make me want to uninstall

[bendover-productions]

bless tenor @lagging-jets for coming through with the details:

WAS ANYONE GOING TO TELL ME SAM WAS A DANIEL RICCIARDO FAN OR WAS I JUST SUPPOSED TO FIND THIS OUT BY WATCHING SEASON THREE MYSELF

[mesetacadre]

(sorry in advance for the more personal ask, you're the most intelligent person i know of when it comes to these things)

genuinely, how are we supposed to find the strength to go on? it feels like capitalism has won. only a few decades ago my country was openly and proudly socialist, and now we're nothing but an american military base with an economy. everything's been privatised, the unions are broken, the people are starving, and we keep voting for more of this! people are gleefully begging for yet more exploitation! sometimes it feels there's not a drop of class consciousness to be found in the entire country, and that it's pointless to even hope for change. how can i stay sane?

The class struggle is not a team sport which either side can win or lose. It is a historical and economic process, one that's inevitable. As long as capitalism exists, there will be a social majority of workers it must exploit, alienation will still happen, and a portion of these workers will be aware of this fact. The class struggle is also a long process, one that, most of the time, is imperceptible to the individual in physical and time scale. Only sometimes, it accelerates to dizzying speeds and the conditions necessary for taking power are met. We can talk about victories and defeats, but we can't lose sight of the fact that those "only" are points in time, momentaneous advances or retreats in the process that is the class struggle, but they never mean the paralization of this process.

We can only really talk about the bourgeoisie taking power and creating the first properly capitalist states in the late 18th century and early 19th, but the bourgeoisie had lead or taken part in attempts at or glimpes of revolution as far back as the early 16th century. The bourgeoisie never really had an unifying theory of the class struggle, most were never really fully conscious of it. But they still eventually took power, once the development of the national economies advanced so far that it forced the replacement of the feudal mode of production, the bourgeois revolutions became inevitable. Marx and Engels only ever saw one real attempt at the proletariat taking power, in the Paris Commune of 1871, but it only ever lasted a few months. They both were long dead when the first actually (relatively) long-lasting instance of the proletariat in power broke the oppressor classes' veneer of invincibility.

When Marxists talk of inevitability it is not in a conspiratorial manner, or an expression of satisfied optimism, we never mean that "one day the capitalists will get what's coming to them", in a vague way. We mean that, only if communists continue to work towards the revolutionary organization of our class, is a complete overthrow of capitalism inevitable. We should all do an exercise is historical perspective when it comes to analyzing progress, take the Marx and Engels example from the previous paragraph, they never got to see an effective application of their theories. Class consciousness will fluctuate continuously, it always has. The bolshevik party in 1913 had nothing to do with the party that lead the October Revolution, and 8 years after the defeat of the 1905 revolution, I bet many felt like their work was hopeless. My point is that, while the borders of the Communist Party may shrink, grow, or even disappear, and while we might be savagely oppressed, no system of oppression has ever lasted forever.

When it comes to revolutions, there are objective and subjective conditions. The objective we can never control; it's the stability of capitalism, the characteristics of its suprastructure, if there is a crisis or not. The subjective is what's under our control; our own work as communists, the state of the revolutionary party, the degree of influence of communists at the core of the working class. These two sets of conditions interact with one another, with the objective conditions influencing the possibility of development of the subjective conditions much more than the reverse. What makes you hopeless is in part the objective conditions. Capitalism is quite stable right now (though not as much as it ever seems), and, for now, we can't do much about it, because the subjective conditions, the other part of your homelessness, are also very delayed. But these we do have control over, at first very little, but as they improve, the control we have over them also increases. Essentially, friend, all we can do is prepare our class, do our best to gain more workers to our cause, bit by bit, so that once capitalism shows one of its cracks, we can be ready to pry those cracks open and bust the whole system. The Russian soldiers in WW1 were already discontent when the bolsheviks began to agitate up to the trenches, Mao's guerrillas grew to an army taking advantage of the deep fragmentation China suffered throughout the first half of the century, etc.

Once again, class struggle is not a straight line that we move in two directions. It is a complex space. The overthrow of the USSR was a very profound blow to revolutionary organizations all around the world, of course, but the state of communism in general in 1995 was still in a much better position than it was merely 90 years prior. Every defeat also sharpens the tactics and strategies we use. Eastern Europe (where I assume you're from) did use to be socialist, and those worker's states were overthrown. But you are still in a better position than a communist in the interwar period, facing borderline fascistic dictatorship and a future of Nazi-Fascist occupation. They did not have any precedent or much practical experience to learn from, but you do. Every day that we delay work, even in the most hopeless of contexts, is a day more that our grandchildren will have to bear in capitalism, and a day more they're deprived of true freedom and self-government

[yoonlyhan]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ in which itoshi rin plays a horror game on roblox and ends up teaming up with a loud owl on voice chat

itoshi rin saw a recommendation online about a popular horror game on roblox. the comments vouch for the post saying that it made them piss their pants playing it or saying that not even a minute of playing it is that the game was already scary.

the younger itoshi was convinced on playing it to pass time.

rin doesn't have a roblox account but he immediately installed it and create an account. he typed the name of the game on the search bar and joined the game.

there was a lobby where you can enter the game by going to a space as a two player, three players, four players, or eight players. rin searched for the singular player mode but it turns out there was no such thing due to the game being so scary that the players needed a buddy to play.

rin thought it was a ridiculous reason.

he ended up controlling his character to the space where 2 players can only play the game.

1/2 players

rin decided to wait until the timer runs out so he can play the game by himself and see if it was worth installing the game.

the timer was already 3 seconds left when a character of a literal owl jumps in to the space beside him. he furrowed at it and when he was about to walk away from the space to avoid joining with someone, his screen appeared with the loading screen.

2/2 players

rin didn't liked having someone with him while he plays so he decided to ignore the other player. but what he didn't expect is that the owl had a voice chat on. so did rin but he was already muted and was not even thinking on communicating with the other player.

“hello! are you there?” a high pitched voice was heard in his ears.

the owl was circling at his bacon avatar as the girl talks to him.

“hello? sir, uh... rin? is that your real name?”

“this game is scary, it's so dark!”

“i heard there was a monster that pops every now and then. i saw it on tiktok.”

when the game signals that the players can start playing. he didn't hesitate to move forward. rin didn't rotate his screen to look behind him but he heard the grass move from behind, signaling that the owl is following him.

“hold hold! i think i saw someone behind that tree!” she shouts again but rin ignored her and focused on the objectives.

the graphics was indeed realistic and scary. there was jumpscare every now and then and there was a moment where someone was chasing them. it was satisfying for rin but he would always pursed his lips when he would hear the girl scream.

it was even unbelievable that she survived halfway of the game.

rin had to admit the she was great in running and escaping the monsters. but she is one hella damn annoying teammate of his.

there were many times when rin was urged to unmute only to tell her to shut up but he didn't and continued playing. rin also took notice that the girl knows he had voice chat umute on purpose and that rin could hear her and indeed listening to all of her whines.

rin, however, had the choice to unmute her and continue a silent game without her loud screams. but he didn't.

it is slightly amusing hearing her screams whenever they encounter a monster.

“bro, you are carrying me! have you played this game before?”

the owl continued to jumped in front of him while rin's character only stood still while waiting for the clock to strike 3am.

“i thought i'd die a long time ago, you know? it's amazing that i'm able to see the ending! i'll brag about this to my friends.” the girl behind the owl avatar laughed at her self.

but what she didn't know is that she will eventually be taken by a monster.

the last thing rin heard from the owl is her screaming behind him. rin even jumped from how loud she screams and when he turned around, the fallen apart pieces of the owl's avatar is on the floor.

the owl was still on the game though. she was just dead in the game.

rin felt disappointed at the owl and felt the decrease of desire to play the game till the end.

the owl could only chat to him and rin decided to talk to her for the first time through it.

misshoothoot:

NOOOOO

why did i dieeee

so unfair

unfair

i'll kill that monster 👿

rin, u can do it!!! i'll watch from above :⁠,⁠-⁠)

rin_itoshi:

idiot

rin unexpectedly died while he was reading the owl's chat and the monster catched up to him and captured rin. he was even close to the ending but he didn't feel annoyed that he died before reaching the end.

after that, rin clicked on the logo in the upper left part and clicked the add friend button to the owl. the owl immediately accepted rin's friend request.

masterlist ♡

© all written works are created and owned by @yoonlyhan. do not plagiarise or translate any of my content on other platforms under any circumstances. u will be blocked :x

credits to @strangergraphics for the wonderful divider ♡

[hydro1st]

Useful TS3 shortcuts you might not know about - quickly copy and recolor! (GIF)

• Hold Shift while dragging a palette to recolor the entire floor or wall

• Ever get frustrated copying objects with an eyedropper? Hold Shift and place the selected object to copy it without loading it! Works in both Build or Buy modes, can copy Debug objects with no codes ;)

• Hold Shift and drag fence or wall tool to create a room; hold Ctrl to remove the wall or fence

These shortcuts have saved me lots of time! I rarely use both sledgehammer and eyedropper :) By the way, the support team has said that my tumblr is finally unbanned! Whew, let's see!

[spencersmopbucket]

The Party & The After Party (3) | Oliver Wood

Pairing: Oliver Wood x Reader Summary: You taste the very beginning of moving on, but it isn't as sweet as you'd expect — a certain hot-headed, Scottish quidditch freak still plagues your mind. And you his. What will you do about it?

For the first time in months, you got ready with the intention of impressing someone. The last time you'd done that was right before you and Oliver had broken up.

You curled your hair, letting it fall in gorgeous spirals. You put on a small bit of makeup, but a thick layer of sticky lip gloss. And finally, you got dressed, wearing a pair of leggings and a Hufflepuff jersey. The gold and black shimmered slightly in the light of your dorm, catching your eye. The letters on the back slightly mocked you.

Usually, those letters said "WOOD" in gold letters. Today, they said "DIGGORY" in inky black. You shivered in a mix of emotions and nerves before sliding it on over your black jumper. You looked at yourself in the mirror — you looked different. You wouldn't go as far as to say odd, but.. different.

The difference was Oliver. For months, the difference had been Oliver in everything you did.

Sighing, you gathered your things and got ready to go. You heard a knock on your dorm door, walking over to open it. Lavender smiled at you brightly, reaching forward to tug on the jersey slightly.

"Cedric Diggory? Damn! Upgraded?" She teased.

You gave her a half-hearted laugh, rolling your eyes as you stepped out into the hallway. “Hardly,” you muttered, adjusting the hem of the jersey as if it would suddenly feel more comfortable.

Lavender raised a brow. “Come on. He’s hot. Like, objectively. Captain of the team, sweet, smart, charming — bit of an upgrade from grumpy Quidditch boy, no?”

You shot her a look. “He wasn’t just a grumpy Quidditch boy. And Ollie's hot too.”

“Sure, sure,” she said breezily, linking her arm through yours. “He was your grumpy Quidditch boy. I get it. I’m just saying… maybe this is good for you.”

You didn’t respond right away. The two of you made your way through the castle, laughter and chatter echoing around the corridors as everyone headed down toward the stands. Your stomach twisted with nerves — not because of Cedric, not even because of the jersey.

Because you knew Oliver would see you.

And you didn’t know if you wanted him to.

“Do I look okay?” you asked suddenly, halting near the top of the stairs to the pitch. Your fingers toyed with the edge of your sleeve, glossed lips pressed in a tense line.

Lavender blinked, then softened. “You look stunning. If he doesn’t trip over his broom, I’ll eat my wand.”

You cracked a smile. “That’s unsanitary.”

“Still true,” she said, squeezing your arm.

The sun was just beginning to dip, casting golden light across the field, and the stands were already buzzing with students waving house flags and wearing face paint. You took a breath and stepped forward, walking into the chaos like it didn’t make your chest hurt.

The moment you stepped into the stands, the noise felt a little overwhelming — too much gold, too much light, too many butterflies crawling up your stomach. You clutched the edge of Cedric’s jersey like it was a shield, trying to steady yourself as your heart pounded beneath it.

You didn’t have to search long — Cedric spotted you almost instantly.

He was standing near the base of the pitch with his teammates, already half in game-mode, but when he saw you, his whole expression changed. His eyes lit up and that signature Diggory smile spread across his face — genuine, bright, a little crooked in a way that made your knees feel stupidly weak.

He jogged over without hesitation, his broom slung casually over one shoulder, golden Hufflepuff gear gleaming under the sun. The closer he got, the harder your heart thumped.

“You came,” he said, eyes trailing over your outfit — the jersey, the soft curl of your hair, the way your lip gloss glinted.

You smiled, a little unsure. “Didn’t think I would?”

“Just hoped, really.” His voice dropped ever so slightly, warm and kind. “You look amazing.”

And then, before you could respond, he leaned in and pressed a light kiss to your cheek.

Your breath caught — not out of romance, not really — but surprise. He smelled like grass and aftershave, like effort and intention. And you could feel your cheek heat instantly.

Cedric chuckled softly at your reaction, not smug, just pleased. “Wish me luck?”

“Good luck,” you managed to say, your voice just a touch breathy.

He grinned again. “Guess I’ve already won a bit.”

Then he turned and jogged back to his team, leaving you in a stunned daze, cheeks hot, fingers grazing where his lips had been. You weren’t falling for Cedric — not truly — but it was hard not to see him. Hard not to notice how easy he was to like.

Still, despite his charm, his smile, and the way your heart fluttered a little more than you wanted it to — you couldn't stop that other part of your brain. The one screaming that somewhere across the bleachers, Oliver had definitely seen that.

Interrupting your anxious thoughts, Lavender squealed.

"You. Just. Got. KISSED! By Cedric bloody Diggory!"

You groaned, tugging her down into the bench beside you. “Lav, seriously—”

“No, don’t Lav me! He kissed your cheek! In front of, like, everyone! I thought he was just gonna say good luck or some Cedric-y gentleman thing, but he kissed you. Like—like he likes you!”

You felt your face flush. It had been soft. Sweet. A casual little peck that shouldn’t have made your heart thump, but it did. Because he did like you. And part of you, a part you were trying desperately to listen to, wanted to be liked. Needed to move on.

You smiled at Lavender half-heartedly, trying to keep your eyes on the field where Slytherin’s team was now circling like vultures, their green robes billowing dramatically. But your gaze drifted.

And then you saw him.

Oliver. Sitting several rows up in the Gryffindor section, slouched low on the bench like he wanted to disappear into the shadows—but still very much watching. His expression was unreadable from this distance, but his arms were crossed tightly, jaw set hard. The sleeves of his crimson sweater were bunched up to his elbows, and he wasn’t blinking.

Your stomach twisted.

Lavender noticed too, her smile faltering. “He’s not playing,” she said quietly. “Didn’t think he’d show, but then again.. Scouting.”

You swallowed. “Me neither.”

But he was here. Watching. And you suddenly weren’t sure if it was your nerves over Cedric, or the weight of Oliver’s stare, that made your hands shake just a little when you reached for your butterbeer.

Because even now, wearing someone else’s colors, sitting in someone else’s section — you still felt like Oliver Wood’s girl. And that terrified you more than anything.

The whistle blew on the field, signaling the start of the match, but your eyes weren’t on the game. They were pulled—inevitably, helplessly—back to Oliver. To the stiff set of his shoulders, the tense way his jaw flexed when Cedric swooped past the stands and gave you another grin.

Lavender nudged you gently. “You okay?”

You blinked, looking down at your butterbeer like it held the answer. “Yeah,” you lied.

But your heart was split down the middle. Part of you wanted to be swept up in Cedric’s easy confidence and golden smile. The other part still remembered what it felt like to wear a Gryffindor jersey three sizes too big, standing in the same stands with Oliver’s arm around your waist.

You leaned back on the bench, letting the cheers and chants around you drown everything out.

For tonight, you’d try to be the girl in the Diggory jersey.

You clapped for him, returned his charming smiles, cheered with Lavender. You tried just about anything to get into it, throw your mind into Cedric Diggory and forget the last few months of pain. It worked, for the most part. But there was a nagging part in the back of your brain that knew it was fake.

Of course, the end result for Hufflepuff was a loss. Draco Malfoy was a dirty, cheating player.

But you marveled at the fact that Cedric remained positive. He still smiled charmingly, congratulated Slytherin on their win even though their snobby arses didn't have much to say in return. At the end of the game, he approached you for a final time.

As he walked up, you almost swooned. Lavender was right. Cedric was hot, objectively. There wasn't a single girl in Hogwarts, regardless of her type, that could say Cedric was unattractive. His hair was tousled gorgeously, his face glistening with perspiration. His honey brown eyes gazed into yours as he got closer.

“Sorry I couldn’t give you a win,” Cedric said, slightly out of breath, somehow managing to look effortlessly good. “I owe you one for showing up. Especially in my colors.” His eyes dropped briefly to the Diggory on your back before flicking up again with a smile that could melt snow in December.

You shook your head, returning the smile as best you could. “You played brilliantly. Everyone saw how Malfoy grabbed your broom.”

He shrugged, humble to a fault. “That’s just Quidditch. I’ll get him next time.”

Lavender was pretending not to eavesdrop, but you could practically hear her buzzing beside you.

Cedric stepped closer, just enough that you had to tilt your chin up to meet his gaze properly. “There’s a Hogsmeade trip next weekend,” he said gently, his voice lower. “Would you… want to go with me? Just the two of us?”

You opened your mouth — hesitated. Your heart gave a confusing stutter. Cedric was gentle, humble... Everything Oliver wasn't, in some ways. And maybe that was what made it feel wrong to even pause.

But you did.

You hesitated.

“I—” You forced a smile. “I’d like that.”

Cedric grinned wide. “Great. I’ll find you later, yeah?”

You nodded, trying to ignore the ache in your chest. “Yeah. See you.”

He gave a small wave before jogging off toward the changing rooms, leaving you standing there, Lavender practically vibrating at your side.

“You’re so going to Hogsmeade with Cedric Diggory,” she said, linking her arm through yours.

You didn’t respond.

Because despite everything—his kindness, his charm, his sweetness—you couldn’t ignore the part of you that still wanted someone else to ask first.

Your walk back to the dorm was filled with confusing feelings. You just wanted to bury yourself in the ground and stay under there for years. A moment that was supposed to be happy, a moment that any girl around you would kill for. And what were you thinking about?

Your asshole ex boyfriend that chose quidditch over you.

You crossed your arms tightly over your chest, trying to hold yourself together — physically, emotionally, mentally. The Hufflepuff jersey swished around your thighs with every hurried step, a taunting reminder of your choices. Of Cedric’s sweet smile. Of Oliver’s silence.

“Ugh, I’m an idiot,” you muttered to yourself, storming up the stone steps toward Gryffindor Tower, ignoring Lavender’s confused glance behind you.

You weren’t sure what you felt more of — guilt, anger, or sheer frustration. Maybe it was all of it. All tangled up into one massive knot sitting right at the base of your throat.

You climbed through the portrait hole, stormed into your dorm, and threw the jersey off like it burned. You tossed it across the room, letting it crumple on the floor, then dropped onto your bed with a dramatic groan muffled by your pillow.

You should’ve felt excited. Cedric Diggory just asked you out.

Instead?

You felt like you’d just lost Oliver all over again.

And you didn’t know how many more times you could survive that.

You couldn't even sleep. It was only 9:30, but you wanted to get to sleep as soon as possible to forget everything that had happened. Even for just a little bit. It wasn't coming easy. The thoughts plagued you, making you frown with frustration.

You rolled over for what had to be the twentieth time, sheets tangling around your legs as you shoved your pillow aside with a huff. The soft chatter of the other girls in the dorm faded into background noise—Lavender giggling with Parvati about something trivial, the rustle of parchment, the clink of a makeup tin.

You felt like screaming.

Instead, you pulled the covers up over your head, trying to disappear inside them. Trying to forget the weight of Oliver’s eyes on you from across the Quidditch stands. The heat of Cedric’s lips brushing your cheek. The smile you gave Cedric that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Everything about today had been wrong. So, so wrong.

You were supposed to be moving on. Supposed to feel like your heart wasn’t going to cave in on itself every time you saw him.

But that ache… it just wouldn’t go away.

Every part of this place—this school, this dorm, even this stupid bed—was stitched with memories of him. You could still hear his voice whispering in your ear during late-night talks, still feel the way his fingers used to toy with yours when he thought no one was looking. You still knew exactly where he liked to sit at meals, the way he looked when he was focused at practice, that stupid crooked grin he only gave you.

You wanted to scream. Or cry. Or maybe both.

Instead, you clenched your eyes shut, fingers fisted in the blanket, and whispered to yourself, “Just sleep. Please. Just sleep.”

But your mind had other plans—because Oliver Wood still lived there, rent-free.

Sitting up with a sharp huff, you got out of your bed, putting sweatpants and a thick jumper over your pajamas. You couldn't do this. You needed to get out for some air.

Ignoring the whispered questions from your dorm mates, you silently left.

The castle was quiet at night, just the way you liked it—empty corridors glowing dimly from enchanted torches, portraits snoozing in their frames, the occasional creak of centuries-old wood beneath your feet.

You padded barefoot through the common room, not bothering with slippers. The cold stone floor grounded you a little, pulled you out of your head, even if only for a moment. Still, it wasn’t enough.

You didn’t even realize where you were going until you reached the Astronomy Tower.

The stars were scattered across the sky, the moon hanging low and full, casting silver light over the castle grounds. You stepped onto the balcony, wrapping your arms around yourself as the wind bit through your jumper. But it felt good. Clean. Honest.

You leaned forward on the railing, staring out into the night.

Why does it still hurt so much? You weren’t together. You weren’t speaking. And yet, every move you made, every breath you took, felt somehow tied to him. You hadn’t realized just how much of yourself had been wrapped up in Oliver Wood until you didn’t have him anymore.

And now?

Now you didn’t know how to be without him.

You pressed your forehead against the cold stone, eyes fluttering closed. Maybe you were selfish. Maybe you shouldn’t have worn Cedric’s jersey. Maybe you should’ve told Cedric no.

But gods, you just wanted to feel wanted again.

You just wanted to stop aching.

You stayed up there for a while, letting the silence wrap around you like a blanket. And when you finally turned to leave —exhausted, raw— you paused.

Because down below, sitting alone on the pitch, broom at his side and hands raking through his hair, was Oliver Wood.

You tried to sneak away silently, not wanting to alert him and get yourself into a situation, but of course, you were an idiot. You fucking tripped and tumbled, yelping and trying to hush yourself in the same moment.

Of course, that was the exact moment Oliver looked up. His sharp gaze snapped toward you instantly, and he let out a huff of a laugh, though there wasn’t much humor in it.

“Need a hand, then?” he called, his voice rough with a mix of teasing and something else — something more serious than his usual banter.

You straightened yourself up, brushing off the dirt from your jumper and making yourself look somewhat presentable, even though your heart was thudding in your chest. “No, I’ve got it,” you muttered, not quite meeting his eyes.

Oliver tilted his head, like he was assessing whether or not you were genuinely fine. There was a flicker of concern in his gaze before it softened a bit. “Didn’t think I’d see you up here,” he said quietly, a touch of something unfamiliar in his voice. “Not with everything goin’ on. You have Diggory to warm you up at night, yeah?”

Oliver's words hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment, everything inside you froze. You could feel the familiar sting of tears threatening to spill, but you bit them back, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you break again.

But as he stepped closer, his expression shifting, softening, you couldn’t stop the wave of emotion that hit you all at once.

"Stop, Oliver," you whispered, voice trembling. "Please don’t say that."

He looked at you, his own expression shifting, his brow furrowing as he reached out hesitantly, as if trying to gauge your reaction. "I didn’t mean to hurt you," he said quietly, his voice thick with regret. "But seeing you with him—it killed me. It still does."

You shook your head, trying to push him away, but it was too much. The tears broke free, falling down your cheeks before you could stop them. You wiped them away quickly, but they kept coming, hot and uncontrolled. "I don’t—why does it matter to you now? After everything, after the way you chose Quidditch over me—why are you doing this now?"

Oliver’s face faltered, the raw pain in his eyes cutting through you. "I never wanted to choose Quidditch over you, I—" He took a step forward, but you held your hand up, stepping back, not ready for the closeness yet.

He paused, his throat visibly tightening, and you could hear the pain in his next words. "I fucked up, okay? And I can’t take back the things I said, or the way I acted. But this, seeing you with him, it’s eating me up inside, and I don’t know how to handle it, lass."

You choked on a sob, finally letting the tears fall freely. "Why couldn’t you just love me like I loved you?" you whispered, your voice breaking. "Why couldn’t you just choose me?"

His face softened with guilt, and he took another step forward, his voice low. "I don’t know. I don’t know, and I hate that I don’t have an answer for you. I hate myself for hurting you like I did."

You shook your head, taking another step back. "I can’t do this again. I can’t keep going around in circles, Oliver." You were trying to be strong, but everything inside you felt fragile.

Oliver’s eyes welled up, the emotion raw in his gaze, and for a second, you saw how much he was struggling too. "I won’t give up on you," he said softly, his voice breaking. "I know I’ve right screwed things up, but I don’t want to lose you forever."

You stood there in silence, both of you just looking at each other, the weight of everything between you.

You wanted to say something—anything that would fix this, but the words wouldn’t come. There was too much history. Too much hurt.

"I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel anymore," you finally whispered. "I just don’t know."

Oliver stepped forward. His familiar scent, cologne and broom polish, filled your nostrils as you tensed slightly. He took one calloused hand, enveloping yours and lifting it to press it against his chest.

His heartbeat was steady beneath your palm, but it felt like a wild contrast to the chaos inside you. You could feel the thrum of it, the life that was still there, still holding onto something. You had almost forgotten how strong he was, how much he could make you feel with just the slightest touch.

"Lass," Oliver whispered, his voice rough with emotion, "I can’t undo what’s been done. But if you’ll let me, I’ll spend every single day making it right. I’ll prove to you that I can be what you need."

Your breath caught, the weight of his words almost too much to carry. "I don’t know if I can believe you," you said, your voice small, shaky. "I don't know if I can trust you again."

Oliver's face tightened in a mix of frustration and regret, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he held your hand against his chest, as if willing you to feel the truth in that moment. "I’ve been a bloody idiot," he said, his words strained, and for the first time in ages, you saw the vulnerability in his eyes—the one that you hadn’t seen when you needed it the most. "But I’m not giving up on us. Not without a fight."

You shook your head slightly, the tears now flowing freely, no longer something you could hide. You were drowning in the rawness of it all. "I can’t keep hurting, Oliver," you whispered, your voice cracking.

He closed the gap between you, his free hand gently cupping your cheek, wiping away the stray tears with his thumb. "Then let me help you," he said softly, his voice almost pleading. "Let me show you that I can be the man you deserve."

You began to cry. One sob, then another, then multiple. Oliver cooed, taking you into his muscular arms and tucking you into his chest. He rocked you in a familiar fashion, the one he'd used to calm you any time you'd been upset for the past three years he'd loved you.

Oliver’s arms tightened around you, his breath warm against your hair. “Oh, sweetheart.. I cannae stand seein’ you like this,” he murmured, his voice thick with regret.

You couldn’t help but cry harder. The emotions you’d been holding in for so long spilled over, and you found yourself clinging to him, needing the comfort he once provided. The pain of losing him and the confusion of being here with him now, so close but so far, was too much to bear.

He stroked your back, his touch gentle but firm. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I never meant to hurt ya... I’ve fucked this up, and I hate myself for it.”

His thumb gently wiped away the tears falling down your cheek, and the tenderness in his touch made your heart ache even more. “You deserve so much better than this. I should’ve chosen you from the start.”

You pressed your face into his chest, trying to calm your breathing. His familiar warmth surrounded you. It felt like everything you’d been missing.

"I don’t know how to fix this," you said softly, your voice shaky.

“Ye don’t need to fix it,” he replied quietly, holding you even tighter. “Let me do that. I’ll fix it. I’ll show you I can be the man you deserve. Just... just give me a chance, aye?”

You nodded slightly, not trusting your voice anymore, but feeling the sincerity in his words. There was no arrogance, no pride. Just vulnerability, something you hadn’t seen from him in a long time.

Oliver kissed the top of your head, his voice soft and steady. “I’ll wait, lass. Whatever it takes, I’ll wait until you can trust me again.”

You stayed there for a moment, the quiet of the night settling around you, and for the first time in a long time, you felt a flicker of hope.

That night, stupidly and recklessly, but so pleasurably, you spent the night in Oliver's dorm. You were wrapped into his blankets, tangled in the cologne scented sheets, wrapped in his thick arms. It was the best sleep you'd gotten in months. You betrayed yourself, yes. You'd disrespected yourself by letting Oliver back in so quickly.

But you didn't even care. It didn't matter.

The weeks that followed mattered more.

Because in the weeks that followed, Oliver showed up.

He didn’t just say the right things—he did them. He was early to meet you, late to leave you. He remembered little things, like how you hated pumpkin juice with breakfast or how your nose scrunched when you were trying not to cry. He walked you to classes, waited outside the library when you studied late, and touched you like you were glass—precious, delicate, treasured.

He didn’t push. He didn’t beg for things to go back to the way they were. He just stayed. Quietly. Steadily. Like he was rebuilding the bridge between you, one brick at a time.

And you? You tried not to fall all over again.

But it was hard. So hard.

Because some nights, he’d kiss your forehead and whisper, “Sleep well, love,” in that soft voice of his, thick with that lilting brogue, and it would wreck you. Or he'd hold your hand in the hallway, squeezing it when a group of Hufflepuff girls passed by, whispering something teasing to make you laugh — and your heart would ache in that annoyingly familiar way.

You still had doubts. You still remembered the pain. But there was something different in his eyes now. Like he saw you — really saw you — and wasn’t about to let you slip through his fingers again.

You couldn’t help it. You started hoping again.

One night, curled into his chest under the invisibility cloak up in the Astronomy Tower — your favorite spot — he pressed a kiss to your temple and murmured, “I don’t expect forgiveness, not all at once. But I’ll earn it, aye? Every bloody day if I have to.”

You believed him.

And that terrified you just as much as it thrilled you.

For all the soft, quiet moments Oliver shared with you in private, he was still Oliver Wood — arrogant, competitive, a little too loud when he was trying to prove a point. Especially in front of Cedric Diggory.

It happened at lunch, a week after you'd let Cedric know that things wouldn't work between the two of you. Of course, as humble and kind as Cedric was, he was completely understanding.

You were sitting beside Lavender, trying to enjoy your meal without any drama, when Oliver strode into the Great Hall like he owned the damn castle. His Quidditch jacket slung lazily over his shoulder, hair a little messy from flying, grin annoyingly confident.

He spotted Cedric before he even saw you.

“Oi, Diggory!” he called, clapping him on the back a bit harder than necessary. “Heard you had a rough go against Slytherin. Shame, that.”

Cedric, always graceful, gave a polite smile. “Yeah, well, can’t win ’em all.”

Oliver leaned in just a little. “Aye, but it’s easier when yer not getting hexed outta the sky, isn’t it?”

You nearly choked on your pumpkin juice. “Oliver.”

He turned to you with the most innocent expression. “What? I’m just sayin’. Don’t worry, love, I’ll show Diggory a proper match when Gryffindor stomps Hufflepuff next term.” Then, flashing a smug grin, he threw an arm casually around your shoulders like he hadn’t just caused a minor scene.

Cedric just chuckled under his breath and gave you a little knowing glance, like you chose this chaos.

And you had.

Because no matter how smug or ridiculous Oliver got—especially when puffing his chest like a bloody peacock—you couldn’t stop your heart from doing that stupid fluttering thing.

Especially when he leaned in later and whispered in your ear, “Didn’t like seein’ him kiss yer cheek, y’know. Had to remind him who you go home to.”

You elbowed him in the ribs. But you didn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day.

[thegoldendoorknob]

RF Guardians of Azuma general tips (Spoiler-Free)

Copying my advice I made for reddit for any GoA community here too-

I updated it because reddit blew up my tips post for a few minutes and scared me lol

Story Tips

Kai, Ikaruga, Kanata, Clarice, and the other Protagonist are unlocked late in the story, so if you're having trouble raising Kai's bond, or you can only find him at night, you aren't far enough in the main quest yet. It seems like a few characters have bond levels locked behind this too, like Mauro...

The main quest expects you to level up towns once or twice before leaving, so you can get an early start before you hit that point, if you want. The 4 Villages are set up to encourage specific builds, from what I've noticed:

Spring - Farming plots

Summer - Shops

Autumn - Rice, Barns

Winter - Fruit, Fishing

Press the R3 button (right stick) or T-Key to switch to overhead view in building mode to make edits much easier.

If you hold down the button (A | X | Left Shift Key) after deleting an object in this mode, you can quickly delete anything you move the cursor over -Odd-Implement-7045

When you are in build mode, the day timer is stopped. Your RP still recharges when you're in build mode, so if you want to get some early levels for Drum Dance without eating food, you can.

When the quest says 'Pray at the Kagura Shrines' after the winter village, the shrines are on these turtle-shaped islands in the sky, not the village shrines. [Thanks AdDecent7641!]

Speaking of, monsters on islands with a tall red tower on them will be around 40-50, since they're involved with a quest later in the game.

There's some parts of the main quest where they'll stop you until you cook something specific or tame an animal. So far I've had to tame a Buffamoo, Cluckadoodle, and a Wolf.*

*You can use Fubuki and Kurama for that quest instead of the Cluckadoole and Wolf, apparently! They even have flavor text if you do -asteriuszenith

Bosses also have weapon weaknesses and elemental weaknesses based on the free weapon and divine instrument they gave you for the region earlygame. Think of it like a Zelda game; whatever tool you picked up, they expect you to use later. It's always possible to go against the flow, though the lost bonus damage is pretty noticeable this time. The weapon weakness (first icon) and elemental weakness (second) will pop up above the boss's health bar when they are hit by them.

Boss dark attacks will slam the party for big damage. I thought I was underleveled my first death, but no, it was the dark element alone blowing up my party. Maybe invest in Dark Defense equipment when you get close to level 50.

Perfect dodging an attack before attacking lets you deal big damage to enemies and boss stun bars. You also charge a lot of spirit gauge by doing them

Suzu is really easy to level bond up on and doesn't faint, so she's a great team buffer for most of the game.

If you're indecisive about who to party, I ran Suzu-Iroha-Ulalaka for almost the ENTIRE game and rarely ever had to equip them to keep up. In the lategame whenever Ulalaka was unavailable, I used Yachio as a substitute until she returned, but any healer is probably fine really.

You won't have access to Monster Barns until you complete Autumn Village, so you may want to chat your favorite characters to Bond lv1 and take them out for a spin until you reach that point. You can check their personal skills by switching to them on the Equipment menu and pressing Y | Square | X | X Key

On that note, when you unlock the 'back row' after Winter Village, the back row gains passive exp. Good for grinding characters and monsters!

Some decorations show random stats like STR, these will increase your stats when you place them in the towns! Later decorations can raise them like quite a lot, so they may be fun to experiment with. Each unique deco can only raise that stat ONCE, so duplicates won't raise the stat again. You can check what town it needs to be placed in, and if you already placed one by looking at the highlighted symbol in the crafting menu. -Haktarius

Speaking of- some decorations also need to be placed in specific villages to get their buffs. They show this with flower icons on the side in the crafting screen. -KainYusanagi

Try to pace yourself- the bond and character locks suck, but this game is deceptively long and easy to burn out on if you rush. To give you an idea- there's roughly 16 to 17 dungeons total over the course of the entire game. 4 for the seasons, 6 for the story after, another 4, then 2-3 more.

General Tips

A lot of recipes are locked behind Frog Statues, make sure you grab any you come across.

In later village levels, they'll unlock more fields for you to build on top of.

If you use the first person bow scope with the Summer Treasure equipped on top of a harvestable crop, it will sickle the crop without using any rp!

If you dash just before falling off a ledge, you maintain that dash speed through the air for GREAT air-time. This is especially helpful and fun when you get the winter sacred treasure.

Negative trait villagers will lower your town stats- evict the ones with only negative traits whenever you can.

A good time to evict negative villagers is right before the day ends- on the next day, if there's any empty slots, 2 or more new villagers will reliably fill them. -Alexaius

It helps to invest a little in logging and mining villagers early on to stockpile materials for builds later.

Fruit trees will always be a plain-colored, green tree. You can find Oranges on some cliffs around the Summer Outskirts and on that small island to the south, Apples behind the purple vines to the west of Spring Village [?], Grapes directly to the right of Autumn Village next to an ore, Chestnuts further to the right side behind all the vine walls, Bamboo shoots are to the right of the castle, and Peaches I don't know where in the overworld they might be, but I found some in a dungeon you unlock after getting Kanata. There's a traveling merchant from higher village levels that can sell saplings later, apparently!

Algester has a visual of my fruit tree directions Here!!

You can find most Golden Vegetable seeds off of islands in the sky, the mushroom master has some gold pumpkin seeds behind his house as an example. You can also buy them off basic seed shops later once a town is leveled enough.

There's a traveling merchant for every region! They will randomly show up next to teleports and appear as a white dot on the map -ego157

Onigiri holes ask for: Onigiri, Salmon Onigiri, Miso Onigiri, Tempura Onigiri, Bonito Flake Onigiri, Greatest Grilled Onigiri (Cook Together with Matsuri) -Haktarius

inkstainedgwyn is starting a Unique Dishes list! You can unlock unique dishes when you are Bond Level 6 with a character.

SEEEECRETSmuahaha has made a simple Gifting Guide for the romanceable characters! Big-Buzz-Jet recently made a more in-depth one Here!

Taming bees for their honey is a pretty good way to make money! Higher level monsters will give you higher level produce for more $$$ as well! -ego157

The DLC swim suits and the default swim suits are different! You can unlock them by reaching bond 2 and inviting them to the waterfall or beach.

Yukata outfits are unlocked on Summer 20th! You get them by attending the firework festival. They can be unlocked a little earlier on Summer 7 if you have Kanata. -Kisaell77, Haddock_Lotus

Higher bond levels also unlock some personal accessories, like Iroha's headband or Kai's mask.

[myrleius]

the side hustle — kozume k.

kozume k. x fujoshi fem!reader│word count: 1.2k

synopsis: Kenma finds himself supplying BL intel to his hopelessly addicted girlfriend.

cw/tags: crack, fluff, established relationship

Kenma wasn’t sure when his life had turned into this.

One minute, he was living peacefully—gaming, volleyball, minding his own business. The next? He had a girlfriend. A loud, affectionate, chaotic girlfriend.

For all their differences, they just fit. Yn was all bright eyes and boundless energy, always ready with a new obsession, a wild theory, a reason to make the world more exciting than it was. Kenma was quieter, content to observe rather than chase. But with her, watching wasn’t enough. She made things feel worth engaging in.

She never dragged him along—just opened the door, left it unlocked, and smiled when he eventually wandered in. She could fill a room without suffocating it, knew when to push and when to leave things be. And even in her loudest moments, she never felt too much. Kenma didn’t think he needed that. Until he did.

But there was one tiny downside.

She was a massive BL fan.

Not just casual, oh-this-is-cute levels of obsession. No, yn was the type to pause mid-conversation just to gasp at two guys standing within five feet of each other. The kind to turn a simple, innocent interaction into a star-crossed love story before he even had time to blink.

And somehow, he’d been roped into the madness, officially serving as her dealer, slipping her BL intel on the volleyball team while she, a hopeless addict, kept coming back for more.

He honestly didn’t get it. What was so special about imagining people who weren’t dating… dating? But then she would just light up at the smallest details, gasping dramatically like she had just uncovered a hidden treasure.

Yeah. That was probably the reason he went along with it.

Which is why, even though this was objectively ridiculous, he still let her in when she came over, already knowing what she was about to ask.

The door to his room slammed open.

Kenma barely flinched. Without looking up from his Switch, he deadpanned, “You’re late.”

Yn practically bounced at the sight of him, her eyes already gleaming with barely-contained excitement. “Were there any important developments?!”

Kenma sighed, saving his game before setting the console aside. “Close the door first.”

She kicked it shut behind her and hurried over, plopping down cross-legged on the floor. Elbows propped on his bed, hands clasped under her chin, she leaned in expectantly. “Report.”

“Lev got hit in the face with a volleyball today.”

Yn nodded sagely. “Classic.”

“Yaku patched him up while cursing him out. Lev said, ‘Wow, you’re so gentle, Senpai.’” Kenma kept his voice as flat as ever, knowing full well she was already eating this up. “Yaku kicked him.”

She squealed, grabbing his arm and shaking him. “That’s so cute!”

Kenma gave her a pointed look. “It’s assault.”

“But it’s their love language.”

He propped his elbow on his knee, using his hand to hide the smirk twitching at his lips. “Right.”

Yn’s eyes sparkled, no doubt already conjuring up an entire romantic subplot in her head. She clutched his sleeve, gaze full of manic determination. “Did he say anything else?”

Kenma pretended to think, dragging it out for maximum effect.

After a long pause, he finally said, “Lev thanked him. Then Yaku just grunted and told him to shut up.”

Yn gasped, eyes widening before slamming her hands onto the bed. “They’re definitely in love!”

Kenma snorted, shaking his head. “That’s normal, yn.”

“No, no, no.” She scooted closer, eyes alight with conspiracy as she went full lecture mode. “Kenma, it’s the classic ‘grumpy pretends they don’t care but totally does’ dynamic. You know, the grumpy one does something nice, the soft one gets all flustered, grumpy brushes it off like it’s no big deal. But then it keeps happening, over and over, until grumpy finally snaps and is like—” She dropped her voice to a dramatic growl. “‘Why do you make me feel things?!’”

Then she flung her hands up for emphasis. “And boom—accidental love confession, the soft one melts, they kiss, and then they finally fu—”

“PG-13, Yn.”

She waved him off. “Right, right. My point is, it’s only a matter of time.”

Kenma rolled his eyes, watching as she practically glowed, completely lost in her own world. “You’re so delusional.”

Yn grinned, completely undeterred. “Oh, Kenma. My sweet, naïve, blind-to-true-love Kenma.” She patted his hand like a disappointed parent. “You just don’t have the vision. The ability to see the tension, the build-up, the inevitable.”

He stared at her, unimpressed. “Yeah, crazy how I missed the deep romance in ‘shut up, Lev.’”

Yn grabbed his shoulders and shook him slightly. “IT’S CALLED SUBTEXT!”

Kenma lets out a quiet chuckle, letting her have her moment. Arguing was pointless. She was too far gone. And, really, he didn’t mind.

She recovered quickly, but the moment her eyes flickered toward him with that mischievous glint, Kenma already knew what was coming.

“And what about you and Kuroo?” she asked, grinning.

Kenma side-eyed her. "What about us?"

She clasped her hands together, forming a finger gun before pointing it at him. “Did he ruffle your hair today? Call you cute? Maybe stare at you for too long?”

Kenma sighed. “I lost rock-paper-scissors and he took the last vanilla ice cream at the convenience store.”

Yn gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. “The betrayal.”

Kenma nodded solemnly, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. It had become an ongoing joke that yn shipped him with Kuroo. Worse, Kuroo was entirely on board with it, feeding her delusions at every opportunity just to mess with him.

“I told him we were over,” Kenma said, indulging her.

She crossed her arms and nodded, looking thoroughly pleased. “Childhood best friends turned bitter exes.”

Kenma huffed out a laugh, shaking his head before reaching up to pinch her cheek. “I can’t believe I’m dating you.”

Yn beamed, her voice dripping with affection. “You love it.”

And, yeah. He did.

Kenma wasn’t sure when it had happened. When her chaos had become something he craved rather than tolerated. When her dramatics had turned from amusing to endearing. When the idea of not having her around felt... unthinkable.

She made things complicated, ridiculous. But he wouldn’t change a single thing.

Before she could say anything else, Kenma turned slightly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear before pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. No hesitation, no build-up. Just done.

She froze, her body going completely still. Kenma’s lips curled into a knowing smile. “You get excited over the dumbest things,” he murmured against her skin before pulling back.

When he met her gaze, her face was bright red, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“It’s cute.”

Yn let out a strangled noise before flopping forward, burying her face in his shoulder. He let her, wrapping his arms around her with ease.

“That was… so boyfriend of you,” she mumbled.

Kenma didn’t even blink. “I am your boyfriend.”

She groaned, clutching his hoodie tighter. “Stop. I can only take so much.”

Kenma let out a quiet chuckle, gaze flickering toward her. For all her dramatics, she really was cute.

For a moment, she stayed curled up against him, completely still. Then, without warning, she shifted slightly and grumbled, “I still don’t understand why Kuroo thinks he’s the top between you two. You give off way more top energy than he does.”

Kenma hummed in agreement. “Mm.”

A beat passed. Then, with zero hesitation, he added—

“I’d top you too.”

“WHAT?!”

[wwaheoh]

“Oops! You killed someone!” Victoria Housekeeping x gnReader, Angst + Comfort (Platonic)

Corin Wickes, Von Lycaon (+ Ellen Joe, + Alexandrina Sebastiane)

c/w: contains written depictions of graphic injury, blood, death, and shock (mental).

a/n: with a game with people using chainsaws, guns, guns that shoot black holes, and swords, i dont think hollow raiders are 100% safe. put ellen and alexandrina seperate since they’re not really major players in this

As part of Victoria Housekeeping, your duty was to fulfill the orders of the Master, usually cleaning, guest service, and attending to the needs of the house. However Victoria Housekeeping also had a sort of open secret, with each member having high Ether Aptitude as well as being trained in combat, they also acted as guards to the Master and their estate. Usually it was general defense, to make sure no one breaks in or any guests get any unruly ideas and stash valuables into their coat or bag. Other times it was against Ethereals, enemies born from the Hollows whenever they were stationed within.

However this was the first time Hollow Raiders had been an issue, usually keeping away- either with much bigger scores that an abandoned building in the Hollow, but this specific building was home to a millionaire, having been evacuated due to the spontaneous expansion of a new Hollow Zone. Leading to an eager group of Raiders to break in.

It had been something you were prepared for, weapon in hand and your team close by. Miss Rina had notified everyone about the incoming Raiders, with the others rounding close to your location- being the main entry point that the Hollow Raiders were predicted to enter through.

Clashing against the large group, steel hit steel, yelling and screams as bodies were thrown several feet away and knocked out. It was feeling like a cakewalk, having been taught by some of the best in the business, it was all just following through what you had been trained for.

At least it was until one of the remaining Hollow Raiders attacked you from behind as you were catching your breath- a mistake, Mister Lycaon always tried to drill into everyone’s heads that the danger should not be deemed as passed until there were no enemies around and the rest of the team had arrived to back you up.

You fell to the ground, hitting the marble underneath with a thump- dazed as you attempted to gain your bearings. Strong hands wrapped themselves around your throat, the pressure putting your brain back into alert mode. Your vision refocused onto a cracked helmet, the image of a Hollow Raider logo shining down on you- unable to move with their weight holding you down. Attempting to pry their hands off- several desperate attempts before realizing it was in vain. Darkness crawled from the edge of your vision as you breathing quickened but became more shallow with the pressure on your airway.

As you desperately looked for the others or something to give you even a few more seconds, you felt an object at the edge of your fingertips. Tapping it closer, you grabbed onto it- something sturdy, the weapon they dropped on the ground before going in to choke you. Harsh grip, you turned as much as you can, swinging your arm and hitting them with the object you grabbed as hard as you could.

Crushing through the glass of the helmet, Hollow Raiders often worse, the weapon hit your target. It was a lot softer than you imagined, as if it was dug deep into something.

Liquid spurted out, splashing blots onto the ground. Their grip on your neck loosened nearly immediately.

Warmth trickled onto your face. The weight of the Hollow Raider that had previously been crushing you fell to the side, limp- and now unmoving.

The world was quiet. Only faintly could you hear a familiar voice yelling before quickly taking out and chasing away the remaining Raiders.

The weapon handle was still in your grip, a worn plastic grip attached to a long steel blade. It was covered in red. Underneath you and the Hollow Raider was a puddle of the same red. The pristine whites of your uniform dyed red, black a shade darker.

Then the world became loud.

Corin had been the first to find you, being stationed closest, she charged in after quickly locking in on the enemies. Chainsaw revving to life, she spun forward, slashing at the Hollow Raiders with the battle cry of, “Ahh! Ge~et awa~ay!!” Blood spewed out- injuries that would definitely hurt but nothing fatal- or atleast with medical attention. It was one of the only good things she could recognize, having been taught how to expertly take out enemies without outright killing them, despite the very real threat her- and every one of their weapons brought.

Finally chasing out the rest of the enemies, she turned to look back at you, “Are you-” she stopped, seeing you with a lost look in your eyes. A look she recognized- having seen it on herself and Ellen before. “O-oh no, uhm,” She quickly stopped her weapon and approached, trying not to just wait for someone else to arrive out of fear of messing up helping you- but still apprehensive due to those very same thoughts.

Gently she came closer, remembering what Lycaon and Rina had done for her when she had undergone the same situation. Remembering what she had nearly done wrong with Ellen before Lycaon stepped in.

“Are you hurt?” “...” She looked you over, not seeing any blood coming out of you. “Can you hear me?” You nod. “It’s not your fault- you did what you had to do.” You stare at her, flashes of the corpse beside you flashing before you. “O-okay, uhm, Mister Lycaon and everyone should be here soon.” You perked up at the mention of the others- with everyone else here and no alive active enemies, you’ll be safe. “What happened was something bad. It makes sense for you to be scared.”

You sat there, heartbeat ringing in your ears as you struggled not to think about the corpse beside you. The corpse beside you. There was a corpse next to you. Their blood was on you. The scent of iron-

“You sit here and we’ll wait for the others. What do you want to do?” “I… want to wait for Mister Lycaon…” “He'll be here soon, it'll all be okay."

And true to her word, the others rounded the corner, prepared to fight. However, quickly Mister Lycaon and Miss Alexandrina assessed what was going on and rushed forward. Nodding to Corin, Mister Lycaon took charge, kneeling in front of you. Corin went to Ellen to inform her of your situation. Alexandrina watched over you, sending Anastella and Drusilla to do a perimeter check. At the sight of them all, you finally broke. It felt as if your whole body crashed and you fully awoke again, tears welling up as you jumped to embrace Mister Lycaon. You were safe. He softly embraced you back, warm muscular body like a shield against anyone outside of Victoria Housekeeping to approach.

“You’re okay, we’re here now.”

[deliciousangelfestival]

Let's Play Pretend - 6 | bodyguard!Bucky

Character: Bucky Barnes x singer! Female reader

Summary: You just wanted to hide here and find peace from the mess that wasn’t caused by you. But then, your hot neighbor bothered you. As if that wasn’t enough, the enemies you hated found you too.

PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4 , PART 5 , PART 6 , PART 7 , PART 8 , PART 9 , END.

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing on Kindle.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

The meeting with Mr. Vert hadn’t provided any safety net. Instead, it had only piled on more work.

He wasn't kidding. The next day—you had a photoshoot.

Bucky was doing his job by being there and watching everything. Everyone in the studio had lowered their guard or was taking things easy, simply because they believed he was your ‘boyfriend.’

He watched you from across the room as the team worked on your makeup, preparing you for the shoot. There was a shift in you, something subtle but noticeable. The intense, almost lifeless person he had seen this morning had slipped into a different mode—work mode. The transformation was unsettling.

After the shoot, an interview followed.

It started with condolences, the interviewer offering their empathy, but that wasn’t why they were here. They wanted the real story. They wanted to dig into your grief, make you relive it, rewind it over and over again, all for the sake of a headline.

Bucky, watching from behind the camera, folded his arms as he turned to Selena, who stood nearby with a look of quiet satisfaction—proud, like a soccer mom watching her star player.

"Do you think this is good for her?" he asked, his voice low.

Selena barely glanced at him. “She can’t grieve forever, or she’ll drown in it,” she said, arms crossed. Then she met his gaze, her tone sharp. “I know what’s best for her.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened. “Give her space to breathe.”

“What she needs right now is to channel her emotions into something productive. Even in grief, she can create a masterpiece.” Selena’s eyes flicked back to you, as if she were assessing an investment rather than a person. “She’s an A+ singer. Her world tour tickets always sell out. You wouldn’t understand.”

And with that, she turned on her heel and walked toward you as the interview wrapped up.

Bucky scoffed. He knew Selena didn’t like him. But it was more than that—she didn’t want to share you. Possessive manager? Was that a normal thing in the entertainment industry? He had no idea.

What he did know was that you never said no.

Not once.

Even when you were ushered into a meeting with the creative team, where all the concept designers and executives had gathered to discuss your image, Selena had been the one leading the entire discussion.

The main topic? Rebranding you.

Two hours of back-and-forth between the team, arguing over aesthetics, colors, themes—but not once did you object. Not once did you voice an opinion.

Bucky watched, feeling something twist in his gut. Even from an outsider’s perspective, some of the ideas were ridiculous. But you just sat there, nodding when expected, agreeing without question.

From his eyes, you were like a walking zombie.

This wasn’t the person he had met in Mrs. Walls’ house.

That person had fire. Stubbornness. A presence that demanded attention.

Now?

Now, you were a living doll.

And he couldn’t help but wonder—who were you?

After the meeting, you and Bucky made your way down to the lobby, where the car was already waiting.

Without a word, he walked ahead, pulling the door open for you. You slid inside, feeling drained. He shut the door before rounding the car and slipping into the driver’s seat.

Just as he reached for the ignition, a tap on the window made you turn your head.

Selena stood outside, motioning for you to lower it. You pressed the button, and the window hummed down.

“Don’t worry,” she said with a reassuring smile. “After this, you have no schedule. I’ll handle the rest for you.”

“Thank you,” you murmured.

“Go get some rest, so tomorrow—”

Before she could finish, the car lurched forward, cutting her off mid-sentence.

You gasped, instinctively gripping the seat. Then, realizing the sudden movement, you scrambled to fasten your seatbelt.

“Bucky!” you snapped, shooting him a glare.

His expression was unreadable as he kept his eyes on the road. “Do you actually agree with those changes?”

You hesitated before answering, voice quieter than before. “It’s what’s best.”

“Really?” His tone was laced with skepticism.

You exhaled a slow breath, leaning back against the seat. “I lost my identity the moment I signed the contract. They molded me into someone new.”

Bucky glanced at you briefly before returning his gaze to the road. “What, did you make a pact with the devil? Sacrifice your blood or your firstborn for fame?”

A short laugh escaped your lips. “No. Are you into conspiracy theories or something?”

He scoffed. “That’s exactly what a devil worshipper would say.”

You laughed again, but this time it was brief—just a flicker before fading into silence. Your fingers curled against your lap as you turned your gaze toward the window.

Bucky noticed the shift in your expression. The way your shoulders tensed. The way your laughter had disappeared too quickly, as if you were forcing yourself to act fine.

It was like you were forcing yourself to live.

“Do you want to let off some steam?” he asked suddenly.

You turned to him, narrowing your eyes. “Wait… do you actually care about me?”

His lips quirked slightly. “I’m already getting paid.”

Before you could respond, he switched lanes, taking an unexpected turn.

“Where are we going?” you asked, watching the unfamiliar route unfold ahead.

Bucky only smirked. “You’ll see.”

🪓🪓🪓🪓

You glanced around, taking in your surroundings. This was your first time in a place like this. The dim lighting, the scent of wood and metal, and the sharp sound of axes striking targets filled the air.

Your eyes landed on a group of people, each taking turns hurling axes at circular targets painted on thick slabs of wood. Some were laughing, others intensely focused.

Then you noticed something odd—one of the targets had a portrait pinned to it. A woman stood in front of it, gripping her axe with both hands before launching it forward. The blade embedded itself right between the eyes of whoever was in the picture.

You swallowed.

“Here you go.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin when Bucky suddenly placed an axe on the table behind you with a loud thud. Turning around, you found him standing there, arms crossed over his chest, looking smug.

“What kind of place is this?” you whispered, leaning in slightly.

He smirked. “An axe-throwing range.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” You shot him a look. “But why did you bring me here?”

His grin widened. “Just throw it, and you’ll understand.”

Before you could argue, he grabbed the axe from the table and placed it in your hands. Then he guided you toward the marked spot on the floor.

You tightened your grip on the wooden handle, feeling its weight. It wasn’t too heavy, but it definitely wasn’t light either. You squared your shoulders, adjusting your stance, but hesitation crept in.

You glanced at Bucky. He gave you a small nod as if you needed confirmation from him.

Taking a deep breath, you raised the axe over your head and threw it forward with all your strength.

Thunk!

The axe struck the target, embedding itself into the wood.

A strange sensation bubbled in your chest—something raw, something rising. It wasn’t just excitement. It was release.

You turned to Bucky, wide-eyed, and as if he had been expecting this, he silently motioned to the table beside him.

Five more axes were lined up, waiting for you.

A slow smile spread across your lips. Without hesitation, you grabbed another axe, lifted it, and threw.

Thunk!

Another.

Thunk!

Each throw felt like a weight lifting off your shoulders. Every time the blade hit its mark, a rush of energy surged through you. The frustration, the exhaustion, the numbness—it all poured out with each release.

You didn’t stop after one round. You went for a second. A third. Each time, the feeling inside you intensified.

By the time you finally stepped back, your breathing was slightly uneven, but for the first time in a long while, you felt… lighter.

Bucky watched you, tilting his head slightly. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes!” You laughed, your stomach growling as if on cue. This was the first time in a while that you actually wanted to eat—no, more than that, you wanted to eat everything.

Bucky chuckled. “Alright. Let’s get some food.”

And just like that, you followed him out, feeling something you hadn’t in a long time.

Alive.

🪓🪓🪓🪓

The two of you sat on a park bench, the cool evening air carrying the distant hum of the city. A streetlamp cast a warm glow over the wooden table where your burgers and drinks rested.

You took a big bite, savoring the smoky flavor of the grilled patty. Across from you, Bucky leaned back slightly, his fingers wrapped around his burger as he took an unhurried bite.

As you chewed, you glanced at him. “Why did you bring me to that place?”

Bucky took a sip of his cola before answering. “Because I could tell you were about to explode—like a volcano right before it erupts. You’re this close to breaking down.” He held up two fingers, barely any space between them.

You swallowed, then muttered in your head, Some of my stress is from you.

“My depression is that obvious, huh?” you said instead.

Bucky shrugged. “I also see strength in you. Even at your lowest, there’s still something left in you that keeps going.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Really?”

He nodded, gaze turning distant. “You remind me of someone I once met in prison. A hostage. He’d been locked up years before I got there. Smaller than me, weaker too, and tortured for so long… but he stayed alive because he believed—really believed—he’d be rescued one day.”

Your grip tightened around your burger. “You… you were tortured?”

Bucky smirked, but there was no humor in it. “Oops. Said too much.” He exhaled through his nose. “But yeah. Long story short—I survived. And Mrs. Walls helped me crawl out of the nightmares.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening. “Wait—your story is way more complicated than mine.”

Bucky laughed, the sound light, almost careless. Like everything that had happened to him didn’t weigh him down anymore. Like it was nothing.

But you knew better.

Without thinking, you reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. His body tensed for a split second before relaxing under your touch.

“You went through hell,” you said softly. “I’m glad you’re free. I’m glad you’re alive.”

Bucky stilled. His eyes flickered to your hand before meeting your gaze.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, his lips parted, and he gave a small nod.

“…Thanks.”

His voice was quieter than before. Almost like it wasn’t used to saying that word.

🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓

The Next Morning

You were in the middle of adjusting your jacket when the door to your apartment suddenly burst open.

“Are you serious right now?!”

Selena stormed in, heels clicking against the floor as she slapped a newspaper down onto the counter.

You and Bucky both turned toward her, mid-preparation to leave.

On the front page was a photo of the two of you—sitting close at the park, laughing, and looking way too comfortable with each other.

Selena crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. “Are you sure he’s just a mere bodyguard to you?”

Bucky, unfazed, picked up the newspaper, tilting his head at the image. “Huh. Not my best angle.”

You groaned. Great. Just what you needed.

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My book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing is FREE on Kindle for a few days. Check it out!

Link for Arrogant Ex-Husband

Amazon.com

Link for Dad I Can't Let You Go

Amazon.com: Dad, I Can't Let You Go eBook : Bing, Alina C.: Kindle Store

[lee-the-yeen]

Yeen's Blitzwing Headcanons!

Been going nuts about analyzing this big silly bot so here's some HC's

So, to start, I don’t think Blitzwing was one bot split in three, but two smashed together.

Blitz’s Icy face was a seeker, the off-color spaces on his cheeks even being the perfect place for where his theoretical vents would have been.

Hothead was a tanker, and while we get only one example of a “pure” tank cybertronian in TFA in the form of Warpath…

…you can see my vision here, right?

If you go with the ”split” method, no matter which face was the “original”, the other elemental power and alt mode had to come from somewhere.

But if Icy was the jet, and Hothead was the tank, where does Random come in? To answer that, I wanna get into the process of becoming a triple-changer.

The procedure could have been a way to try to make a super soldier, master of the land as well as the sky. Adding on Icy and Hothead’s elemental powers, the resulting individual would, in theory, be an unstoppable force.

If this sounds somewhat familiar, it should. A possibility for how Safeguard exists could be because the Autobots caught intel about the Triple Changer experiments. However, they would have had to make some serious adjustments since canonically, every single attempt to create a Triple Changer has either failed or ended up wildly unstable mentally. Blitzwing might even be in Megatron's inner circle purely because he’s the only “functional” Triple Changer to exist.

My thoughts for how the process goes is that not only are the frames and abilities combined into one, but their minds are combined as well.

Two consciousnesses being forced together, with all their memories and experiences preferably intact (that way your perfect soldier doesn’t have to re-learn to walk and talk), it causes an existential dissonance. Imagine being bombarded with the memories of someone else, and expected by everyone around you that they are yours now.

The resulting existential crisis burns out the processors, offlining the lucky, and maddens whoever manages to survive.

You have to be the cybertronian equivalent of drift compatible in order for it to go even decently well. Blitzy’s components were close, but not there yet.

What spared them the fate of other failed Triple Changers is a few precautions from Blackarachnia. She had the foresight to stick a third, empty processor in Blitzwing’s head to act as a buffer for the huge influx of data, as well as EMP-ing him as soon as the Existential Dissonance was occurring. This wiped the majority of his memories of his life before the procedure, but even all that wasn’t enough.

The trauma of the procedure, being torn apart and put back together again, as well as the Dissonance (whether they remember it or not), it was too much...leading Random to manifest within that empty processor.

Now, what brought me to this conclusion? Time for my amateur psychoanalysis under the cut!

To start, the expected disclaimers.

I am not a psychologist, and I do not claim to be. This whole thing is just for fun, and over-analysis of media I like is a big pastime for me. I also do not have DID, and anyone who does that has objections and/or critiques of my analysis, I fully encourage you to voice your thoughts.

Also, keep in mind that cybertronian brains likely don’t work one-to-one with how humans do, and that there’s no true equivalent to what Blitzwing is in terms of human psychology.

With that out of the way, with these headcanons in mind, Icy and Hothead are not alternate personalities in the psychological sense, seeing as they were once completely separate bots.

But Random is.

Random acts as something of a mediator or moderator for Icy and Hothead, in order to keep them somewhat balanced and working as a team. See the Jet-Tank argument, with him popping up to propose a compromise.

While all three faces can and do hold their own, to me Random especially acts as a protector. Examples being him headbutting Lugnut in ‘Lost and Found’ and his sudden change of trajectory in ‘Velocity’ (Never give up, never surrender, nevermind!). Bringing up the Jet-Tank argument again, he notably pops up while the sirens of the “autobot reinforcements” are getting closer and louder.

As for why Random pops in just to make jokes, humor is often used as a coping mechanism [he just like me fr], and not only did Blitzwing’s components go through the Triple Changer procedure, but millions of years of war. It’s no wonder, really.

And while a lot of Random’s jokes are very much “haha I’m so craaazy”, that feels like it’s more of a cry for help. Blitzwing is hyper-aware of his condition, and self depreciates as a way to cope [he just like me for realllllll :,)].

In conclusion, someone get this mech in Rung’s office, he desperately needs a psychotherapist (cyber-therapist?).

As a side note, something I really like is that, despite the nicknames for his faces in the Almanacs (that I used here mostly for clarity), Blitzwing is just referred to as Blitzwing, no matter what face is up front.

[videogamepoc]

Dreams on a Pillow - a videogame experience about the 1948 Nakba, based on a true story

Reported by Edwin Evans-Thirlwell | Nov. 29, 2024

Palestinian developer Rasheed Abueideh has announced Dreams On A Pillow, a mixture of stealth-adventure and interactive documentary set during the Nakba - Israel's violent displacement and dispossession of Palestinian Arabs in 1948, shortly after Israel's founding. Created by "a global team of veteran game developers", it's the story of a Palestinian woman grappling with the loss of her baby after fleeing a bloody assault on her town. Here's a description of the game, via press release. "Dreams on a Pillow is a pseudo-3D Stealth-Adventure game based on the true Palestinian folktale of Omm - a Palestinian mother who fled the massacre of her town with her new-born child. After running for an hour in sheer panic, she realized that she had carried a pillow to safety, instead of her child. Inspired by the story, Dreams on a Pillow explores Omm's life story, showcasing both the history of Palestine before the ethnic cleansing of the lands, and the trauma borne from the violence that was inflicted upon the Palestinian people during the Nakba." According to the announcement materials, Omm's journey as a refugee takes her through the sites of several atrocities, including concentration camps and attacks on Palestinians near the Lebanese border. Whenever she is able to rest, the game switches into a documentary mode, "reliving a rapidly fading memory of a pre-Zionist Palestine" by means of archive imagery and text. Omm's principle possession is the pillow, which serves as both a terrible reminder of her lost child and a kind of coping device. When carrying it, she's not able to interact with objects or do things like jump, crawl, throw rocks and climb ladders. Putting the pillow down, however, triggers Omm's guilt and trauma, provoking nightmares that "reveal dangers of the mind, and shroud the dangers of the real world". The immediate practical challenge during the stealth-adventure sections, then, is to complete whatever objectives are at hand and retrieve the pillow before Omm's delusions overwhelm her. [READ MORE HERE]

Support Rasheed's project directly here on LaunchGood:

[leaentries]

Riding High | nico hischier

summary: when his girl decides to take charge, whose he to object?

warnings: marking, slight handjob, hair pulling (m. receiving), unprotected sex, riding, creampie, slight cockwarming, sub!nico, more porn with little to no plot, swearing

wc: 1.6k+

the captain’s girl masterlist

Stumbling through the front door, your lips found any part of Nico they could latch onto. Hands snaking up the tight tank top that clung to his rigid body. The slight scar that remained on his cheek flashed in your vision as you kissed up his jaw. 

Nico Hischier’s existence was truly unfair to other men.

“Fuck, schatzi.” He panted as his foot managed to kick the door closed. 

Nico’s body pounded against his sweaty skin, still riding high from the team's win over Philly. His mind went hazy the second your hands began to roam once you reached the elevator. His heavy breaths were the only sound that escaped into the crisp air. He was putty at your feet, but he preferred it that way tonight. 

Truth be told, Nico loved it when you decided to take control over him. It gave his mind a break from “Captain” mode. Normally, Nico would bend you over and have his way with you, especially after a win like this, but all he could think about was the way your nails felt against his toned abdomen. 

And the shockwaves it sent to his cock.

His head tilted back as your mouth began to leave hot red marks down the column of his throat. Nico squeezed his eyes shut, pulse beating rapidly against your lips. His chest heaved with anticipation.

“Please, baby,” Nico whined. 

A small smirk found home on your face, relishing in the whimpers that left your boyfriend at the slightest touch. He was so sensitive, yet it just fueled your libido that much more. Pulling your mouth away from his body, Nico’s eyes shot open, immediately seeking your own. His bambi eyes were blown out, pupils so dilated they were practically black. 

He swallowed the complaint bubbling up, “Why’d you stop?” 

It was almost endearing, the meekness in his voice. Nico was so driven by the pleasure you were bringing him that he couldn’t form a coherent thought about anything else. 

You remained silent, simply pulling his wrist as an invitation to follow you to the living room. He let you guide him without hesitation, body desperately craving your touch. You quickly kicked off your shoes, discarding them somewhere between the kitchen and the living room. 

Once you reached your desired destination, you moved Nico till you could walk him backward towards the couch. He felt his calves hit the soft cushions, falling down to them as you gently pushed his chest.

Straddling him, you brought your hands to his swollen biceps in an attempt to balance yourself. Nico’s warm eyes peered into yours, patiently waiting for your next move. He traced every inch of your face as you reached down to grip the bottom of your sweater. Nico felt his breath hitch the second your breasts popped into view. 

The sound of his uneven pants was music to your ears, but the feeling of his thick cock pressed against your core was even better. Throwing aside your sweater, you began to slowly grind yourself down into him. Nico’s head fell back, exposing his marked-up neck. You brought your lips back to where they were earlier, this time lowering your trail. 

The slight red tint of your lips marked their territory on his white tank, no doubt staining it. You dragged your hands over his chest, smirking at the stutter of his hips as you brushed over his nipples. You continued your journey downward, only stopping once you reached the hem of his shirt. You gripped the edge, urging Nico to help discard the material. He leaned up, swiftly removing the unwanted layer. 

As he leaned back, you let a single finger dip through the faint lines of muscle on his stomach. Nico’s chest was covered in a sheer coat of sweat as your teasing got worse. He opened his mouth once more but was quickly silenced by your lips. You swallowed any sounds he attempted to make, licking into his welcoming mouth. Nico hummed in approval.

You slowly untied the sweats he had on, dipping your hand into the waistband. You pulled away to look at his flushed features.

“No boxers, Neeks?” You teased.

Nico blushed a deeper shade of red, crimson now spreading down his neck. The words he once had died in his throat.

He shook his head slightly.

You felt a wave of adoration wash over you at the sight of your big, hockey player boyfriend getting all shy. Nico wasn’t typically like this, it was a welcomed change to your sex life.

You tsked, “Such a naughty boy, Nico.”

Although he knew you were joking, his cock leaked at your sultry tone. You wasted no time in pulling down his pants just enough to pull out his dick. Wrapping your hand around his shaft, you slowly began to pump him.

“Oh fuck,” Nico’s eyes screwed shut, “Just like that, schatzi.”

You continued pumping him, letting your thumb rub over his swollen tip in the process. In spite of his protests, you remained at a torturingly slow pace. You took the time to admire the slight curve of him and the way Nico would buck his hips when you applied pressure to the vein on the right side of his cock.

“Such a pretty cock,” You cooed, “So pretty, all f’me.”

Nico whimpered.

You thought his moans were hot, but hearing him whimper from just a basic handjob was a whole other ballgame.

You continued to stoke him, beads of precum beginning to stick to the tips of your fingers. Nico’s body began to tense as you squeezed the base. 

“S-shit,” He cried.

You knew he was close, but the throbbing that each of his whines sent to your clit was enough to have you pulling back and stepping off of him. Nico looked at you pathetically, desperation and need filling his dark eyes. 

“I know, I know,” You soothed, “I just need you inside of me, pretty boy. That okay?” 

Nico couldn’t agree fast enough. He attempted to help remove your leggings, only to be swatted away. 

“Nuh-uh. No touching until I say so.” 

Nico swore he almost came right then and there. Something about the authoritative edge in your voice had his mind reeling. The only thought he could process was you sinking down on him until his cock was so deep he wouldn’t be able to remember his name. 

You rushed to discard your bottoms, your own desperation now taking over. You straddled him once more, biting your lip as his hard-on pressed into your sensitive clit. You ground yourself further down, spreading your arousal all over his length. 

“I can’t,” Nico’s hoarse voice snapped you back to reality, “Please, schatzi. I need to be inside you.” 

You leaned to press a sweet kiss on his lips. 

“Okay, baby.” 

Giving in to his pleas, you carefully line his tip with your soaking entrance before slowly sinking down. Your eyes nearly roll back at the delicious stretch of him. Nico struggled to regain his breath as your tightness made his cock weep. 

You both sat for a moment, too worked up to move yet. Placing a kiss on his scar, you gently began to move your hips. Nico’s hands flew to your waist, gripping the meaty flesh. Too consumed in the way he felt dragging along your velvet walls, you couldn’t even bring yourself to reprimand him for breaking your “No Touching,” rule.

Your hands wrapped around his neck as you tangled your fingers in his soft hair. Nico’s moaned as you tugged slightly.

“You, fuck,” You gasped as you you continued to bounce, “You like that, Neeks?” 

He nodded, giving you his infamous doe-eyes. 

“Yeah? You like it when I pull your hair?” 

You pulled again, this time slightly harder. Nico’s hips bucked up, a deep groan bubbling up from his chest. Satisfied with his reaction, you moved your hands to his shoulders. You braced yourself, quickly increasing your pace. You tried your best to ignore the burning sensation in your thighs as you rutted against Nico.

Nico noticed your pace faltering, his hands moving to your thighs to hold your weight. His hips began to thrust upwards at a brutal pace, a loud cry escaping your mouth. Your hands scratched at his muscles, clinging to the back of the couch as the searing pleasure began to build in your tummy. 

Nico, lost in his own pleasure, began to mumble incoherent German in your ear. His husky voice sent pulses of electricity through your veins, finding enough strength to push back against his pelvis as he thrusted. 

In his mix of languages, you were able to make out hsi faint chant of begs.

“Keep doing that, schatzi.” 

“Oh, don’t stop.”

“Gonna cum, please.” 

You swiveled your hips forward, Nico’s cock edging deeper into your cunt. You convulsed around him, coaxing him to his orgasm. 

His head fell back, deep whines leaving with each thrust as you milked his cock. The feeling of his warm finish filling your spent pussy was enough to tip you over. You screwed your eyes shut as you felt the waves of orgasmic bliss blind every sense you had. 

You could barely make out the feeling of Nico’s thumb rubbing encouraging circles around your clit. 

Coming back to reality, you collapsed into Nico, his strong arms wrapping around your soft figure. You both relished in the post-sex glow, enjoying the feeling of each other's bodies pressed so close together. You let your eyes shut, Nico’s fingers running down your spine lulling you into relaxation. 

“You ready for bed, baby?” 

You smiled at the change in his demeanor. It was just like him to immediately take on his protective and caring nature once more. Not that you were gonna complain. 

You shook your head, “Want to stay here for a minute. I like you inside of me.”

Nico let out a groan, “Can’t say things like that, schatzi. You’re gonna make me hard again.” 

You simply laughed, placing a kiss on his collarbone.

[lets-try-some-writing]

Sneezes and hiccups are super cute BUT i love the angst of the bots reacting to more serious medical issues. Rafael has to keep a nebulizer at the base, maybe Jack has to give himself insulin injections. God forbid Miko is stung by a wasp and starts to swell up. Humans just got so much going on Magnus in particular doesn't understand how we aren't extinct.

The team would take any medical condition VERY seriously. Squishies are already so fragile. Ultra Magnus is indeed absolutely befuddled when it comes to humanity somehow managing to drag itself away from extinction.

Ratchet would personally tend to Rafael nebulizer. He would learn how to care for it, how to make something similar in a pinch, and probably throw himself into understanding raspatory issues as a whole. One can never be too careful. Bumblebee would also probably begin carrying around an inhaler just in case. The rest of the team would go through a rundown from June in order to help if Rafael needs assistance.

Jack's injections scared the every living daylights of the team originally. To them it looked a great deal like Ratchet's attempt at playing with chemicals over the vorns. However once his issues become clear, the team would largely accept the situation and move on to helping. Ratchet keeps a small store of insulin near his work station. Arcee has been dutifully instructed in the art of giving clean injections. The rest of the bots, being too big to help with such small objects, were given a crash course in how to get to the nearest hospital in record time if need be.

As for Miko? Well let's just say Wheeljack and Bulkhead were absolutely certain she was about to explode until she reached for her epipen. Watching her swell up like some sort of balloon haunted the team for a while and they made sure to begin storing a pen in their alt modes, just to be safe. Smokescreen had to go purge after Miko's first run in with a wasp. Fleshies shifting like that isn't normal and it has haunted his dreams ever since.

Ultra Magnus will never not be confused.

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

If they had given Lena's magic more time to grow and flourish, I wouldn't mind if they'd had it manifest as Lena slowly becoming a touch-know.

It's something I've already worked with before, but it seems like a very magicky ability. And it would be so fun to see how it would affect Lena's personality changes post finale.

She's finally opening herself up, allowing herself to connect with people. And then suddenly, slowly, she starts getting these flashes of other people's lives simply by touching them or objects they've handled.

Lena slowly starts retreating again. Where she'd finally begun to ask for and receive the tactile affection she's always craved, she now draws away, maintaining a small distance between herself and others. Most painfully, from Kara.

Because how can she tell the woman she loves that she can feel the ache of overwhelming loss Kara carries with her, and the haunting chill that clings to her since the Phantom Zone. How does she explain that she just can't handle it-- the grief that lingers, on top of all her own shit she's still working through.

Lena doesn't go quite so far as to wearing gloves. Not yet, anyway. But she wears long sleeves that she can tuck her hands into, and wraps her arms around herself as though to keep herself from touching anything by accident.

Until one day, Nia goes missing. Her roommate reports it to Lena first, who quickly calls in the rest of the team. But soon, they're in a deadlock, seemingly without a direction to go in. Until, slowly, Lena focuses on Nia's cell phone left behind on the kitchen island, and releases a long silent breath. Kara is the only one who hears it, and her eyes snap to Lena just as her partner relaxes her arms and shoulders, and reaches out to press her fingertips to the phone's screen.

Kara watches Lena close her eyes, features tensed as the muscles in her jaw tighten. After several long moments, Lena blinks her eyes open, and she retracts her fingers to tuck inside the cuffs of her sweater.

"She arranged to meet someone on King Street at 1am," Lena announces softly. Her gaze flicks to Kara's, and, realizing Kara had seen the whole thing, swiftly looks away. "No name."

They all stare at her, before Alex finally shifts into work mode. "Okay," Alex says with a nod. She nudges Kelly with an elbow. "We'll check out King. Brainy--"

"I will scan through any digital activity in the area," he says briskly. He's not using boxes, but he refuses to get lost in worry while there are still answers to find. "I will keep you all updated of any developments."

Soon, only Kara and Lena remain. A long quiet stretches between them, before Lena swallows thickly.

"There's something I need to tell you."