#THIS IS WHAT THEY'RE REALLY FIGHTING OVER

[summertimesadnessirl]

You just impaled yourself on the point. And then opened the mouth of your undead head and came to the wrong conclusion.

The Republican party is the controlled opposition party to the democratic party. For most of your lifetime, it's worked like this

The Republican party proposes something way, way over the top.

It's usually something that makes it easy to fire up the radical religious segment of their base somewhat, but as long as it isn't directly in opposition to capital or to the personal agendas of maybe a dozen specific very wealthy and powerful people in the US, it doesn't matter what. They can literally promise a bunch of horny lonely guys on the internet that they're going to make anime real. But the religious right in the USA has been carefully kind of crossbred with the interests of big businesses for a few hundred years and that's been the basis for tons and tons of media that has been produced in the United States since before everyone currently alive was born, so typically they have tons of stuff that is easier to promise them. Often the messaging is double speak in some way that is designed to create a specific type of lifestyle for most people, but while making it seem like an accidental side effect of something else that they want to do.

A lot of time and energy is spent trying to stop the thing from happening. The democrats then raise a ton of money and campaign primarily on stopping their opponents from doing the thing. They get paid. Billions of dollars. They get elected a decent amount of the time. But stopping their opponents from doing the thing is a full time job, and it requires a bunch of political sacrifice. It means sometimes they have to compromise and make a smaller cut to a popular service that the Republicans want to get rid of, or roll back just a few rights from a minority group the Republicans hate. And this is spun as being justified because otherwise they couldn't remain in power. The democrats claim that the hard line religious faction in the country represents half of all voters, when actually many of the policies that the religious right support are not favored by the majority of voters and most of the policies the religious faction are against or are trying to weaken or overturn are popular with the majority of voters in polls. They then conveniently exhaust all their funding and resources in a constant battle with the controlled opposition and never have resources left to accomplish anything that the majority of voters would be in favor of or that would help people but be against the interests of powerful, wealthy donors.

They've been doing it all my life.

It's literally just good cop, bad cop.

Sure, people want to split the left. There are definitely activists out there doing that. Encouraging factions to develop along different ideological and identity lines in order to get people to fight so they don't come together.

But in the case of this specific instance, it works as a tactic because it's TRUE.

Things are not going to change or improve unless we manage to get rid of political parties completely. We can do ranked choice voting and it would help, the same way changing the electoral college could help, but if we keep the current system of allowing large groups that exist solely to raise funds for various candidates year round, it's not ever really going to get better.

I was a student at UC Berkeley during the 2000 presidential election. The propaganda at that time was that Al Gore and George W. Bush were exactly the same candidate wearing different ties. There was no difference between them, so you should vote for Ralph Nader.

In 2016 the propaganda was Bernie Bros—and going both ways ("Hillary is an establishment candidate! You're not a real liberal if you don't vote for Bernie!" and also "Bernie will never win! If you EVER supported Bernie you're not a real liberal!").

This time the propaganda was Gaza. "How can you vote for a candidate that is a part of an administration responsible for GENOCIDE?!"

The thing with propaganda is it's always true—kind of. You can go right down the list and see the truth in all of these things:

Both Al Gore and George W. Bush were establishment candidates. Al Gore was the sitting vice president and a career politician and George W. Bush was the son of former president and vice president George Bush, who himself was vice president to Ronald Reagan.

HIllary Clinton was an establishment politican, the wife of a former president, and the sitting secretary of state. Bernie Sanders didn't have the party support to become the Democratic Party candidate on account of his history of independence.

Biden and Harris were in office during the Hamas attack on October 7th, 2023, and the US government has offered continued support to Israel in its couteroffensive.

Those things are true. But the true things were being used to distract the distractible from other arguably more important true things, e.g. that Al Gore's actual policies were more liberal than George W. Bush's; Hillary Clinton's policies were more liberal than Donald Trump's; and a Kamala Harris-led government was going to be better for Palestine than a Donald Trump-led government.

The goal with the propaganda each time was exaclty the same. It wasn't to get votes for a third party candidate or change policy or help Gaza.

The goal was to get liberals not to vote.

And it worked. Every time.

It'll work again, too, if we don't teach voters how to recognize this. It's pretty obvious though. If it's near an election and it's a wedge issue between liberal voters and ultra-liberal voters, that's the propaganda.

And it is 100% active and alive here on Tumblr.

[nastybuckybarnes]

The Aftermath

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Reader

Summary: How can what's done be undone? Let's watch.

Warnings: Language, PTSD, Angst, Fluff, Injuries, Angst,

Word Count: 2.3K

A/n: I made y'all wait for this one lol. I hope you enjoy. Yes, there will be more so dont you worry. i really wanna try hammering out more of this and tbp cause i may or may not do another 12 days of ficmas or somethin but we'll see!

~*~

When Task Force 141 finally heads into the basement to free you, the scene before them has more than one of them sick to their stomach.

You're curled up in a ball, whispering to yourself in a language they're not familiar with, and when you finally catch a glimpse of them, it's like gas to a flame.

You're pleading, begging in that same language as you slowly back up, shaking your head at them as tears fall down your cheeks.

The words are desperate, spat with haste and fear, and it hurts Ghost's heart to know that the first time he's hearing your mother tongue is when you're trying to escape him.

"Mouse, it's me. You're safe, please. Please, s'just me," he tries, getting on his knees to seem less imposing.

You only scramble back further, holding your hands out in front of you in a pathetic attempt at protecting yourself from danger that doesn't exist.

The blood on your hand catches his attention and he's immediately looking for the source.

"You're hurt. Let me help, please."

You're hiccuping and sobbing, beyond consolation at this point and he's at a loss.

Slowly, he glances over his shoulder to his teammates, the ones who were so quick to follow the traitorous finger that was pointed in your direction.

Soap's eyes are on you, full of sadness and guilt, while Price has his eyes cast down to the floor.

They were just trying to protect their team. Their family.

An idea pops into Simon's head, and he slowly brings his hands to the chain around his neck.

He pulls off the necklace and holds it out in front of you, watching closely as your gaze slowly focuses on the silver pendant.

Your fighting lessens, breathing evens, and then you're reaching out with trembling fingers, gingerly brushing against the warm metal.

A soft word falls from your lips in the same language you were speaking before, and new tears well up in your eyes as you grab the necklace from him and hold it close to your chest.

Slowly, he backs up, motioning for the other men to get out of the way, and then he's swinging the cell door open as wide as it can go and carefully peeling his mask back.

Your wild eyes are focused on his face as he slowly reveals himself to you, and you feel your stomach flip.

"Simon?" You croak, voice scratchy and hoarse.

"S'right, little one. S'me. C'mon out now, you're safe."

You glance over at the other men in the room, your lip wobbling slightly.

"Don't look at them, look at me. Eyes on me, m'right here 'n m'not goin' anywhere."

Reluctantly, your eyes meet his again and he nods encouragingly at you.

Soap can feel his stomach tying in knots with every moment that passes, every word spoken between the two of you.

He never expected this to be the result of his accusations. Of his efforts to be a good soldier.

Slowly, you crawl toward the door, pausing every few seconds as if bracing yourself for an attack.

When you get to the doorway you take a deep breath, holding it as you cross the threshold.

And then a sob bubbles out of your chest and the dam breaks.

You're hiccuping and crying, reaching for Simon desperately, and he all but yanks you into his arms, shushing you quietly.

"I-I didn't do it!" You gasp, bloody hands grabbing handfuls of his sweater.

Simon only nods, rocking you gently in his arms.

"I know, lovie. I know."

"I-I'll be good! J-just don't... don't bring me ba-ack here, please!"

Price's jaw clenches hard, hard enough to almost crack a tooth. His hands are in tight fists by his sides and the lump in his throat is getting harder and harder to swallow.

Simon hadn't exactly been the most forthcoming with your personal information, your history, but in their search for you, they found your sketchbooks. It wasn't hard to piece together your past after that.

"Shh, it's okay. You're safe. You're never going to come back down here, I swear it. Let me take you upstairs."

Your entire frame is trembling in his arms, your bloodshot eyes focused on the men over his shoulder.

Your pupils are wide and your gaze is piercing, sharper than a blade and harder than the walls that seem to be closing in around you.

"Not safe," you whisper, tugging at his sweater then pushing out of his grip and crawling away.

"You're safe, Mouse."

"No, no not safe! Not here! Not with them!" You hiss, glaring at the men behind him.

"I try so hard! But everywhere I go you-you people... you try to hurt me! You lock me in cage! I do nothing wrong!" You're shouting now, voice hoarse and broken, but it makes Soap wince nonetheless.

You look between the men, the soldiers, and push yourself back until you hit the bars of the cell.

"I know your time here hasn't exactly been the easiest, but I swear I won't let anyone else hurt you," Simon tries, holding his hands up in surrender as he scoots closer.

"This... all of this... is because I met you," you finally whisper, the words slicing Simon to his core.

Because you're right.

From the kidnapping to the Corporal in the shower to the accusations. None of it would've happened if you'd never met the man.

"Her thigh" Gaz says softly, eyes focused on the blood darkening the fabric of your pants.

That snaps Ghost out of his feelings and his focus is on you once more. Your safety, your wellbeing.

"Mouse, you're hurt. Let me help you, please."

You glance down at your leg, the still-bleeding wound from yesterday, then cover it with your hand.

"Don't need help."

"You need medical help. Food, water. Please, Mouse." He glances over his shoulder at his teammates. "Leave."

With that one word, the three of them are gone, leaving you alone with your Ghost.

"S'just you n me now, little one. You know I'd never hurt you. Let me help you. Please."

You swallow hard, looking at him for a long silent moment before dropping your gaze back down to your thigh.

"I'll take you upstairs, we can go straight to medical and then-"

"No."

He frowns.

"No?"

"I-I don't want to see... anyone else. Only you."

He nods immediately, inching toward you carefully, as if you're a wild animal that could lash out at any moment.

It's not like he couldn't handle it, couldn't overpower you. But he wouldn't. Even if you did decide to lash out, he'd take it. S'what he deserves, after all. He should've been faster. Should've convinced Price sooner, killed both Jacobs and Matthews in that alley the first night he met you.

But he didn't.

"Can I touch you? I just want to see how bad it is." He motions to your leg.

Slowly, you give him a nod, watching through puffy eyes as he gets close enough to inspect your wound.

His hands are gentle when he touches you, tilting your leg to the side then looking back up at you.

"Let me take you out of here. Please."

"Where?"

"With me. Our quarters."

Ours. Not his. Ours.

Yours.

That's where you belong.

Up in your quarters with your Ghost and far far away from here.

Far from the holding cells that remind you too much of the cages you used to call home.

Far from people who would hurt you, lie to you, betray you.

Ghost's words from what feels like only days ago ring out in your ears, taunting you, humiliating you.

Johnny's not gonna let anything happen to you.

The man's own words when he'd cleaned that Corporal off of the bathroom floor.

You've saved my arse.....I owe you.

This is how they repay people?

Simon, upon seeing the distant starry look in your eyes, smooths his bare fingers over your wrist, tugging you gently toward him.

You follow wordlessly, lost in thought, in your mind, and he seems to recognize this.

"M'gonna bring you upstairs. Straight to our quarters, yeah? Nobody's gonna be around, I'll be quick."

He takes your silence as understanding and tugs his balaclava back on, then pulls you up into his arms and heads out of the basement and up the stairs.

A shiver rolls down his spine when he emerges in the hallway.

All of this bears an eery closeness to when he first brought you to base.

Your limp body in his arms, the looks from the poor few stragglers around base, the determination in his eyes and the pit in his stomach.

He hates it.

He hates that his team, the men he's supposed to be closest with, are the ones who've brought him back here.

The ones who've pushed you to this.

But he's not absolved of wrongdoing in this.

No, he's the one who closed the cell door behind you. He's the one who locked you in your deepest traumas.

He turned the key and tucked it in his pocket.

He's just as much to blame as they are.

His self-loathing comes to a momentary pause when he finally pushes open the door to your shared quarters.

He sets you down on the desk, much like he did the day he came back to find Corporal Jacobs dead on the bathroom floor, and grabs his first aid kit.

Expert fingers slip the blade of a knife into the tear in your pants, and then he's cutting the fabric away from your leg and spraying the wound with antiseptic.

His eyes dart up to your face, searching for any sign of pain or discomfort as he begins bandaging your wound.

He finds none.

Your eyes are still distant, as if you're not really here with him, and he feels his heart drop into his stomach.

"Mouse?"

Nothing.

Swallowing hard, he reaches for your face, smoothing his fingers over your cheek and jaw. To anyone looking, he's composed, but you feel his fingers tremble the tiniest bit as they meet your skin.

Your eyes flutter to his, pupils dilating slightly as you focus on him.

"You with me?"

You blink a few times then slowly nod, eyes staying focused on his.

"Yes... here... with Ghost."

His eyes get sad for a moment before he nods, tugging off his balaclava and dropping it onto the ground.

"Simon. You're here with Simon."

You let out a quivering sigh and nod, reaching forward to touch his face.

Red stains his pale cheek and you look to the source, brows pulling together when you see the blood on your fingers.

"What...?" You inspect your hands, the blood covering them, then drop your gaze to the half-covered wound on your thigh.

"Oh."

"Looks worse than it is. Just gotta stay off it a bit," he says softly, getting back to work until your wound is wrapped.

You say nothing, your gaze shooting back to your hands. Specifically, the necklace in your left hand.

"Want me to help put that back on?" He asks after a moment, watching the way tears fill your eyes as you nod.

He takes the necklace from you and carefully reaches around your neck, leaning in close to watch himself clasp it.

You're engulfed in his scent as he invades your personal space, and you can't stop your hands from darting out and grabbing onto his sweater to hold him there, to pull him close.

When the necklace is secure, he pulls back just enough to fix his footing, and then he's yanking you to the edge of the desk and wrapping you in his strong arms.

He hunches over the desk, dropping his head to yours and pressing kiss after kiss to the top of your head.

You wrap yourself around him, in him, as much as you can, pressing your face to his chest and burrowing into him deep enough to taste his soul.

He pulls you closer still, eyes squeezed shut tightly as he lets himself feel you. Really feel you.

Feel you in your pain, in your trauma, your helplessness. Feel you in your trust, your fear, your love. For him.

He feels you as much as he feels himself now, and all he wants is to take your pain away. Strip you of it even if it kills him.

But he can't.

So instead, he holds you close until you begin to tug away. And then he's taking your hands in his once more.

"I'll run you a shower, yeah?"

You nod wordlessly, eyes cast down as silent tears trek down your cheeks.

He moves swiftly, turning the water on and testing the temperature.

When it's finally warm enough, he returns to you, reaching for you only to freeze when you flinch back.

Refusing to meet his gaze, you slide off of the desk and step around him, cringing away when dusts his fingers over your arm.

The rejection stings, but he knows he has no right to feel hurt.

"I'll stay right here 'till you're done."

You say nothing, only close the bathroom door and turn the lock.

Simon ends up staying there for hours, long enough to realize that you're not coming out of there anytime soon.

With the lights off, he leans his head against the door separating you.

"I'll be right out here, if you wanna come out. Make sure I save a spot on the bed for ya, yeah?"

You say nothing.

He can hear the steady sound of your breath so he knows that -physically, at least- you're okay.

Sighing softly, he slides his hand down the door then turns away and takes a seat on the bed.

He sits there for a few minutes, hoping he'll hear the lock click, that you'll come to bed and the two of you will be able to put everything behind you.

But he's never been a big dreamer.

Instead, he settles down in bed, his eyes locked on the bathroom door, the faint light shining through the cracks.

Simon goes to bed that night with a full bladder and an empty bed.

[archangeldyke-all]

hii bestie i loveee ur writing <33 the arcane finale is literally driving me insane holy shit and i just keep thinking about how all the old bitches on the council are probably bigoted assholes to our beloved sevika at first (hopefully) and was wondering if you’d consider writing the reader comforting her after these council meetings or letting her take out any stress on the reader from these meetings heheh okie bye thanks hope you’re doing amazingly <3

GOD. i've been thinking about it more lately (the euphoria of her making it through the series alive is wearing off too) and i just. really need to hug her. because YES she lived and YES zaun is getting a voice and YES she is the best person for the job, but... she lost EVERYTHING. and now she's gonna have to be treated like shit forever for her city. and of course she's gonna stick it out because that's who she is and she'll do anything for zaun but FUCK. i need to hug her so bad. okay lets write lol.

men and minors dni

it's been a hard year.

you and sevika got your worlds rocked when isha and jinx stumbled in your lives, and then you got your hearts broken when they stumbled back out.

there wasn't even a moment to catch your breath before you had to start rebuilding efforts and negotiations with piltover.

and then sevika was appointed to represent the free nation of zaun in piltover's council as the sister cities figure out how to rebuild and get the undercity on it's feet as it gains independence.

and, in a way, it's everything sevika's ever wanted. she's there to assure that the topsiders treat her city right, she's there to demand everything zaun deserves. she gets to oversee development in the undercity, she gets to open schools and parks and libraries.

but in another way, she's never been so miserable in her life.

the councilor's are all members of the wealthiest families in piltover-- and they do not take kindly to sevika's sudden addition to the council.

shoola's been sevika's one true ally, her biggest advocate and defender in the council room. they're friends, in that the same tentative way sevika was friends with silco, but... maybe a little kinder. a little more lighthearted.

shoola's become a close friend of yours, too. she learned quickly that sevika keeps her cards close to her chest, and she often comes to you for an insight into what your wife is thinking. it's fun to have someone to laugh with over sevika's quirks, and you're endlessly appreciative of the woman's fierce protection of your wife in the council, when you can't be there to defend her.

still, though. shoola isn't always there, and she can't control the whispers sevika overhears.

and it's not like your wife is new to being insulted. but it's one thing to be cursed out by a man you're fighting in the street, and a different thing entirely to overhear posh accents whispering about 'sump rats' and 'undercity trash.'

especially when those same posh accents are the people demanding tax cuts for the wealthy, and budget cuts for the undercity.

so, you've been anticipating this.

this being your wife breaking down in silent sobs, crying so hard she can't make any noise, kneeling before you the moment you gets home to bury her face in your stomach.

but just because this has been a long time coming, doesn't mean it breaks your heart any less.

"oh, sevika." you whisper shakily, kicking your boots off before kneeling down and wrapping your arms around her. she buries her face in your shoulder, her arms circling your waist with desperation. "fuck, baby. i'm right here. let it out." you say.

sevika shakes against you, taking desperate gasps for air between her sobs. "i'm so tired." she stutters out. you start crying at her words, settling down onto your ass to pull her into your lap.

"i know, baby. you've been working your whole fuckin' life." you say, scratching her scalp and rubbing her back as she curls up on top of you.

"and i fucking miss them." she cries.

you let out a choked cry and nod, kissing her forehead as tears stream down your cheeks. "yeah." you choke out. "me too."

there's nothing else to say. everything else sevika already knows. you love her. you've got her. jinx and isha are together now, and zaun is free. none of it makes it any better, though.

so you just hold her.

in a while, you'll both run out of tears and get sore from your spots on the floor. you'll dry both of your tears, kiss sevika soundly, and comb her hair from her face as you whisper her praises. you'll call for food to be delivered, draw a nice bath, and you'll make sevika eat and soak until her eyes droop. and then, you'll take her to bed. in the morning, sevika will go back to the council, despite the fact that everyone in that building looks down on her, because sevika is nothing if not loyal to zaun. and tomorrow evening, you'll be waiting here at home to build back up all her confidence that those rich assholes managed to tear down throughout the day.

but, for now, sevika's still crying.

so, for now, you just hold her.

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@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

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[shouyuus]

very 18+, vi-shaped, modern underground fighter!au tw: in which vi uses a vibrating strap d1ldo and also fucks ur throat

popular underground fighter vi! x reader in which vi "soft launches" your relationship with this photo posted on instagram with clear red nail marks down her back and just the caption "post fight ritual 💋" and it's obvious that her knuckles are still bruised, but someone else made those marks on her back and they're definitely not from any fight she's ever been in.

and it's not like she's a stranger to people thirsting over her posts -- she kinda knows she's hot. or at least, she's been told enough times to know it empirically, but it still stuns her a little when she catches you staring, or when she sees the way your pupils literally dilate in her presence; it's not something that she grew up hearing, always being told that she's too tomboy or that she's not feminine enough, even though her own family never cared, and they've always supported her no matter how she wanted to dress or what she wanted to do.

you, though. she doesn't know how she got so lucky with you.

she might call it a chance meeting, but later on, you'd admit that you'd had your eye on her for weeks, thought she was so, so pretty, even with all her black eyeliner and her choppily cut hair (she does it herself; oh, you could tell? why? what gave it away? the weirdly uneven buzz or the fact that she totally missed a patch at the back of her head?), and you'd put yourself squarely in the line of her sight and hoped (prayed, really) that she'd notice you.

and notice you she did.

wearing that pretty little sundress of yours, leaning up against the bar of her favorite lesbian haunt, the one she goes to nine times outta ten after her fights, the adrenaline's still high, eating through her veins, the tattoo of her pulse pressing against her ribcage.

she'd pushed off the far wall and caged you in against the dark wood of the bar, turning her charm up to eleven and hoping against hope that she wasn't just imagining things when she saw your gaze run up and down the length of her body (she wasn't).

"hey pretty. thought you might wanna take a closer look."

you'd grinned then, caught someplace between bashful and triumphant.

"but... it's so dark and so... loud," you say, letting your hand linger on her shoulder even as you put up the very convincing front of uncertainty, the blatant tease of your words the only thing cueing her off that you were picking up what she was putting down.

"yeah? then... wanna go somewhere quiet where you can... take a better look in peace?"

vi's apartment, despite all the winnings from her fights, was a modest place, a small studio in the heart of the city, though the floor the ceiling windows are really what caught your eye that first time she brought you over.

that, and the giant mirror that covered the length of an entire wall opposite the windows.

"so i can check my form," vi says when you ask, running a tall glass under the tap water, holding it out to you afterwards.

and she'd be lying if she said she hadn't been expecting a hookup. and honestly, so had you. but somehow, the pair of you had just ended up curled on the couch, sitting face to face, sharing stories and laughing. the next you looked up, the pink of dawn was teasing across the far skyline and vi was frowning at the dying phone in her hand, her eyebrows hitched.

"holy shit... it's 6am."

you bury your face in the cushions of the couch, your hands still wrapped around a half-empty cup of spiked apple cider (a bottle of martinelli's at the back of her fridge, along with a half-empty thing of grey goose she'd found, tugging the cap out with her teeth), feeling the tiredness drag at your eyelids.

"oops... sorry," you grin sheepishly at her, "usually, when i keep people up all night, it's not like this."

vi laughs at your tired little innuendo, but her eyes soften when she catches you watching her. and for some stupid, unfathomable reason, she feels her cheeks heating up.

"yeah peaches. i figured. but... i don't mind being kept up like this."

your brows furrow even as a grin threatens your lips as she nudges you with her hand. you shift back, making room for her as she sits down in front of you, close enough for you to feel the heat rolling off her skin.

beyond the windows, a brilliant sunrise is peering out over the city, and the sharp, shard-drawn light of it pierces vi's studio as she reaches out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, her thumb and forefinger trailing the line of your cheek till she's coaxing your chin up towards her.

"peaches?" you ask, your breath a bit short.

"yeah," her eyes flicker towards the tiny little stud earrings you'd put in, truly miniscule peach-emojis that you'd picked to match the shade of your dress. and you laugh, the tiredness making the air around you both effervescent.

and that was the first of many nights you'd proceed to spend at vi's, though eventually, she does drag you forward to kiss you, her lips insistent against yours, with you pulling back to gasp -- "took you long enough --" against her only for her to sink her teeth into the bared skin of your neck, letting her fingers curl around the delicate pulse-point nestled there as she says --

"they say good things come to those who wait."

neither of you can truly pinpoint the moment where this... thing became something more. something that neither of you had the words or will to deny any longer.

it might've come up the first time vi pressed three fingers into your sopping cunt, her eyes fixed on the way your expression goes slack, how your hips kicked up at every curl of her expert fingers. or perhaps the first time you'd pushed her back and kissed a line down her front, lavished her body with your lips, teasing and nipping at her tits before making your slow, arduous way down to her clenching cunt, licking up the wet slit before latching your mouth around her clit and sucking hard enough for her eyes to roll out of her eye-sockets.

or maybe the first time she'd pulled out her bright pink strap, the base equipped with a vibrating function and an opposing dildo that hooked into vi's pussy as she rucked her hips into yours, fucking into you so hard that tears had creased in your lashes after she was done with you.

"fuck peaches -- you just look so good cumming on my cock, don't you?"

and that's all it takes these days, a smirk, a slap on the ass, and her voice saying peaches for you to feel your body clench over nothing, for your stomach to curl with heat, even if she's just coming over to press a kiss to your cheek or murmur against your skin, asking how your day went, though sometimes, you'd get shy and your voice would get a bit too quiet.

"c'mon, speak up, doll. and look at me when i'm talking to you, yeah?"

her fingers squeezing your jaw, just tight enough to make you gasp.

and no one questions it; bc why would they? her coach is ecstatic -- not like vi's ever been an unfocused fighter, but these days, she's in such tip-top form that he's not got much feedback for her after her long training sessions.

"whoever she is," vander says, grinning even as vi flushes and sighs (she knows it's useless to lie, vander's known her for way, way too long), "she's good for you."

he presses a hand to her shoulder, shaking her slightly, "and my advice? when you find a girl like that -- you grab on with both hands and you don't let go."

so that's what she does, and what she's still doing now. it's been months -- almost a full year since you've made it all "official", though neither of you have posted much about it online (her fans have been speculating for a while though, specially the hardcore ones, the ones who have been with her long enough to know her, to spot how she scans the crowd before and after every right, how her smile's just a bit different these days, how there seems to be one particular girl she's always winking at, always hidden in the shadows but she's always swiveling around the first thing after a fight, win or lose).

"f-fuck -- that's a good girl --" vi groans, her hips jerking against yours as she fucks you through your third orgasm of the night (she'd wone her fight that night -- as she does most nights -- and you'd come over to celebrate), your nails biting into the skin of her back, dragging down the expansive tattoo there.

she feels the burn in her own thighs, her arms flexing, the veins popping blue as she drags you down the length of the bed by your hips, fucking into you, her eyes trained on the sticky white ring at the base of her pink strap, the sight in and of itself enough to send her over the edge.

"c'mere -- open your mouth, peaches," she says, guiding you towards her even as she pulls out of you, a thick string of cum slicking off the head of her strap as she inches up the bed to position herself over your chest and shoulders.

you let your jaw fall slack, moaning thick as she presses the tip of her strap to your tongue. you blink up at her, lashes fluttering as she sinks her fingers into your hair, hissing out a long breath as you swallow around her length.

"sweet fuck that's hot..."

she pulls you over her cock in shallow thrusts, her breath growing quick as she watches the way you eagerly clean your own cum off of her with your tongue, the completely fucked out, blissed out look in your eyes as you look up at her, so utterly besotted and at her mercy.

her feels the coils twist in her gut seconds before she shoves you down over her, the combined sound of your gagging and the pinpoint vibrations of the dildo sending her right over the edge.

"shit, shit -- shit oh -- fuck... mm..."

her fingers fist in your hair as she jerks around the dildo end of the strap, tugging out of your mouth with a lazy, lopsided smile.

"such a good girl for me, hm?" she says, tugging you up for an open-mouthed kiss. you mewl against her lips, so soft, absolutely melting into her arms as she shifts the both of you into the center of the bed.

it's not till she goes to shower later, with you sound asleep in her mussed up blankets, that she sees the marks -- red and raised on her back, scratched over her tattoo. a soft smile lifts her lips as she stares at her own reflection in the mirror, her neck twisting over her shoulder to get a good look.

and before she knows it, she's grabbing her phone and turning around to snap a pic, with the full intent of keeping it just to show you in the morning but... well, she thinks as she stares down at the photo with a dopey sort of grin, her heart thudding dangerously close to her mouth.

maybe the best gift she could give you on your one-year anniversary is this -- telling the world that she's yours.

[annasellheim]

We're sitting at the table I'm glaring at them. These heroes ("The Big Three" as they are known in the industry) are questioning me? ME? They're questioning ME???

These motherfuckers made me come to the Cape Crusaders big, tacky mansion to justify my actions to them?

The thing that pisses me off the most about their reservations is the fact that what I do SO MUCH MORE IMPORTANT WORK than them. These idiots just punch bad guys in the face and send them to prison, just so they can escape and start the cycle over from scratch.

I've already saved so many more lives than they ever will. I've made more of a positive impact on this planet than anyone will ever know.

Because my power is to stop disasters, and the most effective way to do that is to prevent them.

No one knows how many wars I've stopped before they began, how many diseases I found vaccines for before they became epidemics, how many cities and countries I've helped create infrastructure for so they could avoid being over run by natural disasters.

And my job is made even more difficult than it sounds because no one can truly fathom how bad things would be if I don't use my powers. I have to fight ppl tooth and nail to get it anything to happen because they don't know how bad it'll be if it's not acted on.

No one sees what I see. They don't feel what I feel. They'll never know the particular ache in my chest that somehow has has an entire narrative wrapped in it whenever a potential disaster hits me. An ache that is so powerful that it's made my knees buckle multiple times.

And the feeling doesn't dissipate until the disaster is fully prevented. It means that when I know something needs to be done, I have to make sure it's dealt with, or-

It's destroying me in a way. Doing so much, all the time, with no compensation or recognition.

The heroes at least knew about my powers and know that I have nipped a bunch of really bad shit in the bud.

The villains thing has come up before and it's irritating. For years I thought it was because they were lazy and just were angling for help over shit that I didn't have time for, and in the big picture, didn't matter. Asking for even more help than I already provide.

I'm at my limit already.

But looking at these three at this table in this enormous, extravagant kitchen, it hits me how wrong I am.

These heroes don't have my powers. They can't foresee and stop disasters. For all they know, these clowns that rob banks and occasionally attack and murder people, can cause major disasters down the line. I'm not perfect, I can't stop all disasters. I have to sleep and eat and work a fucking day job.

I still feel residual aches from time to time for every disaster I've failed to stop.

They aren't trying to get more free work out of me, they're trying their best to figure out what villains can do major damage in the future.

They're scared.

"So, the way my powers work," I say while leaning back in my chair, "is that at some point, I know something will go from being an issue to a problem to a disaster. I can only intervene when I know it'll be disastrous, otherwise I can't use my powers, it's like they don't exist. Until something goes over the thresh hold of becoming a potential disaster, it's like I have no powers at all."

"How do you know when a disaster is going to happen? Is it like a vision?"

"It's more internal than that- it's like a feeling I guess...I'm not sure how to articulate it."

Huh, no one has ever bothered to ask me anything specific about my powers or the work I do. I don't have a lot of answers if they keep prodding.

"So, yeah, it's not that I'm neutral to villains, it's just all of the ones you guys been dealing with don't-" I yawned "- don't give me that feeling. I'll let you know if it changes."

I put my head in my hands. Fuck, I'm so tired. It's not like I can stop being a hero, I see the alternate world where I don't intervene, I feel it. But I'm so, so tired.

"Go take a nap."

My head shoots up, "What?"

The Masked Crusader (dumb ass name btw, just like his dumbass mansion) says it again, "Go take a nap. I'll make us all dinner. Go use my guest room and pass out for a bit.

Damn it, did I say I was tired out loud? Or was mind reading one of his superpowers? I can't remember, things have been so overwhelming recently, my memory is shot.

"No, the Masked Crusader can't read minds, that's me" Brainiac says.

Oh. Shit. Right.

"We just, we see you burning out, let us support you for once," chimed in the Singing Banshee.

This was not how I was expecting this conversation to go AT ALL.

Banshee continues, "You've got a lot of walls up, probably from years of running yourself into the ground saving thousands of people without any help. So, we're now going to help you."

"That's not a request by the way," the Masked Crusader says as he slides me a glass of water. "We're doing it whether you like it or not."

Shit, I hadn't even realized I was thirsty. Have I drank any water all today?

And then *BOOM* I get hit with it- the feeling of an impending but preventable disaster. But it's different than any other disasters I "felt" before.

It's me... It's me, in the near future, collapsing and being unable to do anything about, well anything. I wouldn't be able to stop future disasters, hell, I won't be able to function. And the only way to prevent it was to lean on these people.

This was a lot.

I chugged the rest of the water and wiped my mouth.

"Ok, thanks..." I whispered.

This was too much to think about right now. It was too much to feel right now. I'm not used to, I don't know, being taken care of. I don't know how to be supported.

I'll figure out a way to properly navigate this later. Right now I needed to lay the hell down.

You're a superhero who specializes exclusively in stopping disasters. The other heroes just don't understand why you need to remain neutral to the villains…

[heavyhitterheaux]

No Judgments

See Me Through You Blurb

Synopsis: You and Joe do the 'We listen and don't judge' TikTok challenge 🤭

Pairing: Husband!Joe Burrow x Wife!Reader

Requested by: a few gorgeous anons 💕

Series Masterlist

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

After wiping your mouth and rinsing it out with mouthwash from your sudden episode of morning sickness, you made your way back into the bedroom where your husband was still peacefully sleeping.

You attempted to climb back into the bed without waking him up, but feeling the weight shift made him flutter his eyes open. Joe had never been a really deep sleeper, but since he found out you were pregnant, usually he wakes up at the smallest noise and it left you surprised this morning when he didn’t feel you get out of bed the first time.

“Baby, you okay?” He asked as he pulled you towards him so he could wrap his arms around you and kissed the top of your head.

“Your children won't let me be great and made me throw up again.” You quietly answered and you had now grown frustrated since it seemed like the morning sickness wasn't only happening in the morning, but throughout the day.

“You want me to make you some tea?”

“Yes, please. I'm miserable.”

Joe then placed his hand on your belly and began to rub small circles on it as he noticed that your bump was actually starting to show.

“Babies, stop making mommy sick so she can sleep. Daddy’s orders.”

“Hopefully they'll listen to you because clearly they pay me no attention.”

“When they hear ‘the voice’ for the first time, they're going to be running for their lives.” Joe said, referring to the first time he heard it and made sure to stay out of your way for the rest of the day.

“I still to this day have no idea what you are talking about when you say that.”

“It's a voice you make when you get really annoyed. Ask Ja'Marr, he'll back me up.”

“I just think you two are being dramatic.”

“Says the most dramatic person in the room….”

“Husband! Take it back!”

“Nope, it's facts and I'm not going to lie to you.”

All you did was roll your eyes in response as Joe raised his eyebrows at you.

“Don't catch an attitude with me because it's something you didn't want to hear. Fix your face.”

“I'll fix mine if you let me ride yours.”

“I… These pregnancy hormones are giving me a run for my money and got me fighting for my damn life. One thing at a time and let's get your nausea under control first.”

Later on in the day, when Joe was sitting at the island in the kitchen, you went and sat next to him while setting up your phone. He quickly noticed and looked over at you.

“Whatever it is, no.”

“But baby! Pleaseeee?!”

You knew Joe hated being in front of a camera, but you loved doing TikTok challenges with him from time to time.

Sighing and finally giving in, he put his phone down to give you his undivided attention.

“Okay, what are we doing?”

“We listen and we don't judge challenge. I sent you a few so you would have an example to know what to do.”

“Only because it's you. Let's get this over with.”

“Yay! And I want you to go first.” You told him as you pressed record.

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“When I feel like I'm getting sick, I act like I'm so drained so I can't do anything so you'll baby me.” Joe was the first one up and smiled at you when he was finished.

“What the? I baby you anyway! Like 98% of the time.”

“AHT! No judging. You just take it to a different level. Moving on.”

“You are literally MY baby though. My 6’4 baby and I'm 4'11, but who's to say anything about that? I love you bad and I see you're using it to your advantage.”

“To get endless cuddles from my wife? Hell yeah I'm taking advantage of it.”

“Okay, next.”

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“So after you fall asleep since your bedtime is like 6 pm.. like a grandpa…” You started to say, but was immediately interrupted.

“9 during the season!”

“Stop interrupting me, husband! After you fall asleep, I go and buy things on your phone and make sure to delete the notifications so you don't find out.”

“BABY!”

“HEY! I BUY YOU THINGS TOO!”

“And you hide the packages too because I literally never see any of them.”

“Hmm, maybe.”

“Fine. Keep your secrets.”

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“When we were at LSU and we were just friends, I memorized your schedule and knew you had a lot of late classes and I would purposely wait for you if it was dark outside to walk you to your car to make sure you were safe. And it gave me a chance to spend more time with you.”

“So, that's why it seemed like you were always around? Aww, you love me!” You told him as you pinched his cheek.

“And don't you ever forget it.”

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“During last season when I saw you wore THOSE PANTS, yes you know the ones I'm talking about, after I specifically told you not to because they looked crazy and you wore them anyway, you kept asking if I've seen them but I hid them somewhere in our house and they have been hidden for so long that I forgot their location.”

“I LOVE THOSE PANTS, BABE!”

“THEY ARE HIDEOUS, BABY. NO!”

“I'm making it my mission later to find my pants.”

“I know Ja'Marr probably bought you those ugly ass pants.”

“AHT! You're judging!”

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“When you're mad at me, I purposely go into the cabinet and make all of the jar lids tighter so you have to come and talk to me.” Joe confessed and you rolled your eyes and crossed your arms at the same time.

“SERIOUSLY? And here I am thinking I'm a weak bitch! I can lift almost as heavy as you can! And a jar lid is what does me in?!?”

“Works every time.”

“I'm going to have to do it myself next time.”

“Like that will ever happen…” Joe said and you playfully rolled your eyes.

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“Okay, so….” You started to say as you glanced at Joe and he sighed knowing that something crazy and out of pocket was about to come out of your mouth.

“Oh shit, here we go.”

“Sometimes, I purposely piss you off and I don't know that you know you do this but your voice gets deeper and it turns me on so bad. Like your voice by itself turns me on, but when you get mad, whew. Sign me up for EVERY position. It's happening now and I'm just thinking about it. Gets your girl all hot and bothered.” You quietly said as Joe stared at you since you were now squirming in your chair and trying to keep your legs as tight as possible.

“Are you seriously squirming over there? And I’m not surprised by this in the slightest. Just wait until we're finished with this, I'm about to turn you every way but loose. And hold on! I thought we were keeping this PG!?” He asked as he leaned over and kissed you.

“Don't threaten me with a good time and when are the videos we do ever PG? Especially when it's something like this? And don't get me started because I will literally rip off your clothes at this very moment.”

“Good point and see? And that's why you're pregnant now.”

“Because my husband is fine as hell and I'll fu-” Joe's eyes went wide as he promptly covered your mouth with his hand and in protest, you licked it, making him look at you dumbfounded.

“No! Do not finish that sentence. This is really about to turn into something else if you don't stop. And did you just lick my hand!?”

“I wanna lick something else too, but I'll save that for when we turn the camera off.” You tried to whisper, but failed miserably.

“BABY QUIT IT!” Joe pleaded and all you did was shrug.

“I was like this before you married me and you should have known that once this ring was on my finger, I was about to be ten times worse.”

“Hmm, that's putting it lightly.”

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“I hide some of your perfumes so that you'll only use my favorite ones that I've bought for you.”

“Babe! How many have you hidden!? And here I am thinking that I've lost them!”

“Hmm, not telling.”

“You're annoying.”

“I'm cute and you love me.”

“Survey says that both of those responses are correct.”

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“So, when you got hurt during your rookie year, I was watching the game and saw it happen and my heart immediately dropped. Because we literally had an argument hours before that game and we weren't talking and now I think back on it, I had no idea what the argument was about. But, I low-key felt that you getting hurt was somehow my fault. I remember packing my things and getting on a plane and crying the entire way there and I honestly didn't know if you wanted to see me at that point. Because I had sent you a text right before the game and you didn't respond. And to this day, I still feel like that.”

It was quiet for a few seconds before Joe said anything.

“That… baby that wasn't your fault. It was a bad hit. And of course I wanted to see you. You were actually the first person I asked for. I never knew you felt like that.”

“I hate seeing you in pain and I…. I'm about to cry again.”

“I can tell, hormones.” Joe replied as he wiped your eyes for you.

“But I came back from it because of you and how you helped me. You being there was enough. You love me bad, don't you?” He asked as he was trying to get you to smile.

“So much, and you know it.”

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“Ever since you told me you were pregnant, I watch you until you fall asleep to make sure you’re okay. Doesn't matter how long it takes or if I have to get up early. You're my priority.”

“And, I'm about to cry again. Damn these hormones.”

“You are literally MY person and I don't know what I'd do without you.”

“Ladies, get you a husband who treats you like the queen you are every day because….. shoutout to Jimmy and Robin because the two of them gave me one of the best things that ever happened to me.”

“Wait… ONE of the best things? I'm not THE best thing!?”

“Hmm, you're top five.” You replied as you shrugged.

“Uh? You mean number one?”

“If it makes you feel better, the top five things all have to do with you.”

“That sounds suspicious, but I'll let it slide for now.”

“I love you Joseph Lee Burrow!” You exclaimed as you kissed his cheek and wrapped your arms around him.

“Stop trying to change the subject and I know for a damn fact you didn't just call me by my full name. I get anxious when you do that.”

“Wait, huh?”

“We've gone over this a million times. My name is BABY to you. When it comes to you I don't know who Joseph is.”

“And he calls me the dramatic one.”

[atrophiedemotion]

feeling kind of sick over the fact that till might've been trying to gift a flower crown to ivan (like all the other kids seem to be doing) and ivan destroyed it because he knew they were cameras. blatant and almost unavoidable miscommunication is the basis of their relationship and this really hammers the nail in.

till giving ivan the flower crown as a sign of affection or friendship, ivan destroying it because he doesn't recognize what it means & is squarely focused on making sure they're not monitored, till being visibily very hurt by it (he looks more hurt/betrayed than angry imo) and retaliating with his usual way of self defense, violence. ivan enjoying till's full attention/physicality during the fight and aiming to get as much as possible because he can't even fathom till wanting him in any other way, even though he was just shown proof otherwise.

[hvbris]

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @multipleoccupancy

Violet hadn't really thought about it that way, that her dad wasn't keeping secrets from her, but was actually protecting her from potential episodes. He had told her that knowing about monsters could be dangerous, but she had soaked in so much knowledge in the cowboy timeline and had never felt it chipping away at her mind. What if it still had? What if she was just 'bottling it up' like Samantha had said? And what if it exploded one day? The thought sent a cold shiver down her back.

"I understand," she whispered, "but if you never talk about your missions... how do you deal with them? Whenever I come back from a travel, I tell you all about it, and it helps-" She stopped, and opened her mouth in horror. "Should I stop telling you about it? Could it trigger more episodes?" It was her fault her dad had spent the last four days struggling with his memories. But what if she triggered another episode one day? Because she kept telling him about the monsters and the travels?

She nodded. Yes, she remembered Agent Davidson and the many threats he had told her dad. Just thinking about it made her blood boil. Delta Green might have a noble purpose, but it was not a noble organization. "It must have been horrible," she said with a frown, "knowing that they were always holding this threat over your head." And yet he was so dedicated to the Program. Was it just because he believed in their cause? Because he wanted to protect the world?

"They threatened our family, too?" Her frown deepened. "Did Agent Davidson threaten our family?" Oh, how she hated this man! She hated him more than she had ever hated anyone else. She hated him more than she hated Sloane. She hated him more than she hated the Horned One.

This explained his dedication to the Program, at least. He had given them everything because if he hadn't, who knows what they would have done? Even without the threat of the ward, they had used other ways to force her dad into fighting their battles. "They're wicked," she croaked, shaking her head, "I know they fight monsters but... what they did to you... it's cruel. And it's unfair."

Fear started to trickle down inside her chest, drop by drop, as she thought about the letter she had received. The letter her dad had shredded, to protect her. "Are they going to do something like that to me? Are they going to send me to a ward to recruit me? I- I killed Layla and- what if they tell the Police?"

Theo studied her as she turned to look at him, Davidson's warning ringing in his head about revealing the organisation to anyone and the consequences of doing so, however Theo had entered a new phase of his coping with what had happened to him. Most importantly he didn't want Violet idolising a life he had only allowed her to see glimpses of.

"Not the missions specifically," he gently shook his head, trying to word things in his own mind. He had even rehearsed what he should say that morning but of course as was the way, it had all gone out of his head now he was actually supposed to start. "The reason I don't go into details about them with you is because sometimes even hearing of these things can trigger episodes like the ones we talked about." Four days ago? But it felt longer.

"So when you ask me about them it's not just that I am being secretive, it's also to protect you from more than just knowledge of what I do." He drew in a breath, thankfully it was not shaky anymore but he was clearly trying to steel himself.

"You saw how it was I was recruited, Agent Davidson arrested me and put me in that ward for just over seven months before you turned up." His jaw knotted in the memory, "This was the basis of my working for them as an agent. They funded my education and for a short while between collage and the FBI I was working with the police as a special." No authority but all the training, "The ward was constantly held over my head as the threat it was meant to be, that if I did not do well in school, if I did not train properly or if I failed the academy I would be put back there and left there."

He chewed his tongue of course he was angry about what had happened to him and he hoped he could muster up the courage and strength to take himself with Samantha to the shooting range to let out some of that rage but for now he had to wait. "It was a very real threat, it wasn't until about twelve years ago that I was able to close that ward down once and for all and free myself from that threat." Theo studied her, carefully. "But now there is a new threat they could use, not just to ruin my career but I have six children, Rea, parents, in-laws, friends." There was nothing really noble about how it was they kept agents in line. "So I climbed. I worked hard for Delta Green and showed my loyalty by doing whatever it took," a darkness crossed his face for a moment as he thought on that and what he knew now of cultists. "I am not a regular agent but I am also stuck from progressing any further because I have given them everything."

[thephantomtheory]

"arcane s2 was rushed" "pacing all over the place" "so many loose ends" oh my god can we stop

i will admit that maybe each episode could have used a bit more breathing room to allow certain plotlines and characters to develop, but it's being nitpicky.

remember house of the dragon? everyone thought s2 was oh so boring, "they're taking too much time, too much character development" "there's not enough fight scenes" i mean shows genuinely can never win no matter what they do. if arcane added 3 more episodes i guarantee you people would still be whining about pacing.

the great thing about arcane is how it doesn't insult its audience. the writers expect us to have some form of media literacy to draw our own conclusions, and to trust the writers to tell us when there is something that we need to know. the writers allow us to fill in some gaps ourselves with the information they've handed to us. "what about the oppression of zaun, did they just forget to address that after the war?" did we watch the same ending? no, obviously not. we saw sevika walk into the council room at the end, clearly as a voice for zaun. it shows a step in the right direction. plus, there's no reason to believe that cait doesn't still hold a position of power. especially being in a relationship with vi, do we really think that piltover will not be held accountable for the damage done to zaun over the years? that they will not try to bring forth change? these are things that we are supposed to infer for ourselves, and the fact that people feel they need to be spoon-fed every detail is frightening.

it has been stated over and over again that although these characters will not be the center of their next projects, there WILL be more series within this world. loose ends are not tied up for a reason. let's allow the mystery to pique our intrigue, and guide us into watching the next shows to search for the answers. although arcane is over, i doubt it's the last we'll hear about piltover & zaun.

i really don't mean to come off angry or sow discord among the fanbase. these are just my personal thoughts and opinions that come from a growing frustration with some of the criticism i've seen about arcane s2. and hey, i can appreciate criticism, but in this case i don't quite think it's deserved. the labor of love in every aspect of this show is the most insane thing to witness and im so grateful to have seen it, and just enjoyed ride.

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Creep Minecraft World

I've mentioned before how they have a Minecraft world they all play on, and I wanted to actually just randomly talk about it :p

At least several times a month, they all get together to play on their Minecraft world together. Sometimes a few people might be missing or absent, but they try to have as many people playing at a time as they can. Things I've already established, BEN is the one who builds cool houses for everyone (I'm adding on that they're all set up like a villager village, so they're all connected by paths and near each other like a housing development), Jeff helps people the most with mining, and Toby and Sally are both working together to make a zoo for all of the animals they come across with nice surroundings so they can all be happy in there. Now, back to my expanding on it.

I think that they all probably split into groups on who does what, and some people will just tag in whenever they want to. BEN, Liu, Helen, and Brian are the designated builders of the world. They're really good at building and have an eye for making pretty designs, so generally, that's what they spend their time doing. Jeff, Natalie, Kate, and Tim are the designated miners in the world. They had built like a whole mining system and are constantly expanding it to collect more and more materials together. Both groups work together to help each other out, and the rest of the creeps are free to join a team if they'd like to so that they can help out more, but they usually just follow the instructions of the established team members. Toby and Sally as I said earlier are committed to building a zoo, and they name every single animal that they put in there. Sometimes others will help with building or getting animals in there (they have also been allowed to use creative mode to get animals or build something if they need to), and it's situated near the housing area so that everyone can just walk over and look at the progress when they want to. Generally, they all work really well together in their teams, but sometimes they do have disagreements.

Speaking of disagreements, one of the world rules is that keep inventory has to be on, mostly because there was a point when they kept going around killing each other and then they'd get mad because they'd lose their stuff, and fights would happen, so keep inventory has to be on so that now if they die or kill each other, nobody can be upset. (That started because Jeff and Tim would push each other into lava whenever they were in the mines and disagreed on something). They haven't even gotten very far into the Nether yet because they all keep dying or killing each other. Also, nobody is allowed to alter or destroy anything that someone else has made (even if they think it looks really bad and they want to change it to make it look better, cough cough, Helen, cough cough) so that everyone can have their own little area that they build in and they don't have to worry about the safety of the work. I think they also all have an "open chest" policy where they each have one chest with a sign above it that says open, so that if someone is missing or really needs certain supplies they can take from someone else's open chest that has extra stuff they don't really need in it. I'd like to think they also go on like planned attack expeditions, like if they find an area that has a warden they'll all team up to try to fight the warden together (they rarely succeed because everyone is just screaming and yelling and running and laughing), or they'll all fight the ender dragon together, or a wither. Also??? So many mods. BEN has added so many mods to the world and he and everyone else get so much enjoyment out of it. It can be chaotic sometimes, but the Minecraft world is one of the few things everyone can actually usually get along with about, so it's a good bonding experience for them.

[loulovingho]

Rocker and Deacon are out shopping for groceries or whatever and Deacon just subconsciously reaches to hold Rocker's hand or to put his hand on Rocker's waist, while they're talking about something else, and Deacon not letting go even when they bump into someone they know.

Rocker is a little surprised because he remembers how they started off all clandestine and now Deacon is freely showing affection in front of others.

Okay, I saw this and had to write something about it 😩 then it turned into 1000 words! I hope you enjoy!

They've been together, really together, for four months now. No more hiding, no more affair, no more dirty little secret.

Deacon's moved into his own apartment, he's explained everything to the kids, he and Annie are figuring things out through their attorneys.

He and Rocker have even filled out all the proper relationship agreements at work.

All these steps came pretty naturally. They left both Deacon and Rocker feeling more free than they ever had their entire lives. Like a heavy weight had been lifted off of them.

They weren't exactly the most exciting pair. Sure, the sex was incredible, adventurous, sometimes daring, but life was about more than sex.

It was about fixing the broken cabinets in Deacon's apartment, it was dealing with the nightmares Rocker sometimes suffered from, it was making sure they got enough rest to be able to deal with whatever happened at work the next day.

It was figuring out who they were as a couple, all the things they liked and all the things they hated. It was laughing together, fighting together, helping each other, holding each other.

It was dealing with grocery shopping for two households on a Saturday afternoon.

“We should have gotten two carts.”

“You really want to try and maneuver two carts down every aisle through all these people?”

Deacon managed to step out of the way just before a lady could ram him with her cart. He sighed. “No. I just want to be done with this.”

“We just gotta get some breakfast foods for your place and we'll be finished.” He waved Deacon along. “Scoot scoot.”

With an eye roll, he turned and headed for the next aisle, Rocker following behind with the cart.

Deacon grabbed up a box of Fruity Pebbles and placed it on the side that had all his items, stopping with he noticed the look Rocker gave him.

“What?”

“That for you?” Rocker asked.

“Do I look like a Fruity Pebbles kinda guy to you?”

“You really want me to answer that?”

Deacon glared at him. “They're for the kids, Donovan. It's their favorite.”

Rocker shook his head, pushing the cart forward to get out of another man's way.

“What? What is that?” Deacon asked. “Why are you shaking your head?”

“They don't like Fruity Pebbles anymore.”

“Yes they do.”

“No they don't.”

“Yes, they- How would you know?”

“The last time they came over,” Rocker explained, “Lila mentioned that Samuel threw up Fruity Pebbles in the car and now none of the kids can handle the smell.”

Deacon picked up the box. “No Fruity Pebbles then,” he said, placing it back on the shelf. After letting three people pass between them, he moved back over to Rocker's side.

“Should I be offended that you know my children better than I do?” he questioned, wrapping an arm around Rocker's waist as they continued down the aisle.

Rocker smiled. “Well, technically you were in the shower when they told me, so...”

“Oh, the truth comes out,” Deacon said with a laugh. “You were just gonna let me think I should know this information?”

Rocker shrugged as they turned the corner. “It's fun to see you squirm sometimes.”

“Oh, you're gonna be doing some sq-”

“David!”

A woman's voice had Rocker and Deacon turning their heads to the side.

“Mrs. Chase!” Deacon greeted, smiling brightly at the older woman. “Good to see you!”

“You too. Busy day in here today, isn't it?”

“That's what we were saying,” Deacon answered, giving Rocker a pat on his side before resting his hand back on the same spot.

It was a little thing, and Rocker knew he should be used to it by now, but he wasn't. They'd spent over a year hiding. Making sure no one saw a touch, a glance, heard an unprofessional word. They'd once driven an hour out of town to go out to dinner somewhere that they knew no one would know them. And even then, Deacon had to be sitting so he could face the entire restaurant, just in case someone were to enter that he recognized.

Now though, with this woman that Deacon knew but Rocker had never seen before, his hand remained just above his hip.

“Mrs. Chase, this is my boyfriend, Donovan Rocker,” Deacon introduced. “He goes by Rocker though.”

And damn, that still felt new too.

Boyfriend.

Not acquaintance.

Not co-worker.

Not friend.

Boyfriend.

It might seem a little juvenile to some, using the word boyfriend when the two of them were in their forties and fifties, but in their line of work “partner” could mean many things. So, boyfriend it was.

Deacon gave Rocker's waist a little squeeze, “Donny, this is Mrs. Chase from my old church. Makes the best pies in the world.”

Rocker smiled, reaching out to give her hand a shake. “Nice to meet you, Ma'am, I've actually heard a lot about you.”

“Oh, my,” she replied with a little giggle, shaking his hand as a blush rose on her cheeks. “You're very handsome.”

“You're very sweet.”

She looked over at Deacon once she let go of Rocker's hand. “A lot of us have missed you at church, David.”

“I miss some of you guys too, it's just... that's Annie's place to go now. It wouldn't be fair to her.”

He left out the part of the news spreading like wildfire as soon as he and Annie filed for divorce. How the rumors had gotten so bad that the priest had called and asked him to not return. It wasn't like he was going to anyway, but that definitely put the final nail in the coffin.

Mrs. Chase nodded, her facial expression remaining soft, nonjudgmental. “Well, you have my number still, don't you?”

“Yes, Ma'am.”

“Good. Use it. Call me soon and I'll bring you a couple of my pies.” She looked back at Rocker. “You like cherry?”

“Love it.”

“Good. I better get going. It was good seeing you, David, and nice meeting you, Rocker.”

After saying their goodbye's, they started down the next aisle.

Using one hand to steer the cart, Rocker wrapped the other around Deacon's shoulder, pulling him closer and pressing a kiss to his temple.

“Can we get out of here now?” Deacon asked, gripping onto Rocker's shirt with his hand as they passed a group of very loud tourists.

“Breakfast foods,” Rocker reminded him.

Deacon dropped his head down. “Damn it.”

[renthony]

Considering the fact that there's still ongoing waves of covid, bird flu is an active concern, and I'm disabled, no, I don't have in-person social life. And since people refuse to mask up, get vaccinated, or offer virtual participation in things anymore, my attempts to find wider social groups keep getting hamstrung. It sucks. A lot.

I've thought about joining the local French conversation group, but they don't have any covid safety protocols in place. I've thought about going to the weekly free art classes at the comic school, but they aren't covid-safe either, so I just watch the recordings when they upload them on YouTube later. I've thought about going to multiple groups at the local queer community center, but when I asked if they had covid safety protocols, their excuse was that "Ron DeSantis banned mask mandates, so we don't do that anymore," instead of doing literally anything to fight DeSantis. I keep thinking about going back to my theatre & stage combat troupe at the ren faire, but I got sick after the show every single year pre-covid and I cannot risk that "faire crud" being covid proper. I just can't.

I am an active member of a union, but that doesn't count for this poll because I exclusively participate online by video calling into meetings. I play D&D with my parents and siblings every week, but that doesn't count because they're family. I talk to multiple friends and family members every day and regularly check in with folks, but it doesn't count because it's on my phone. I hang out with my housemates and we do all kinds of things together, but that doesn't count because they're the people I live with.

I am being as social as I safely can. It feels really shitty that so many people think it isn't good enough. It feels really shitty to constantly feel like my choices are "be a weird angry shut-in" or "elevate my covid exposure risk." It feels like there's no winning.

If you genuinely believe that it's important for people to have in-person social outlets (and I do agree!), here's what you need to be doing:

Follow the People's CDC's Safer In-Person Gatherings guide (which is due to be updated for 2025 soon).

Get your updated covid booster. People aren't getting their updated vaccines, and it's a problem. If it is available to you, you need to GO. GET. YOUR. BOOSTER. And get your flu shot while you're at it.

Advocate for improved air filtration in the space you want people to meet in. Push for air purifiers if the HVAC system can't be fully upgraded. Help make Corsi-Rosenthal boxes.

At gatherings, provide FREE high-quality N95 masks for people who may not be able to access them. Get some for yourself if you can, and actually wear the fucking things. Over your nose and mouth. Properly.

Stop participating in social dogpiling when people make honest blunders or commit a faux pas. A lot of people have been isolated for years by this point. Social skills atrophy if they aren't used. Is that "weird" person in the group actually hurting anyone, or are they just awkward, intimidated, and out of practice when it comes to social groups?

Stop being a shithead to people who still can't participate. Stop entertaining the belief that people who don't have a robust external social life are "defective" or "untrustworthy." Stop treating people who don't have a robust social life as if they're dangerous, stupid, or shady. Sometimes people just don't have a robust social life. There are many, many reasons. It's not something you should make harsh judgments about.

Evaluate your space for general accessibility. Can disabled people enter and make use of the space? Is it mobility aid friendly? Sensory friendly? Are there things that can help make it easier for disabled people to find, access, and participate in the group? Have you asked any disabled people about how you can make improvements?

Get your fucking covid booster. It's on here twice because data suggests you fuckers aren't doing it. Go get your fucking vaccine.

I know I'm setting myself up for another barrage of, "Ren, it's just some stupid tumblr post, it isn't that serious" comments, but...well, it is that serious to me. I want to participate in social groups again. I want to go places and do things again. I want to go out. But I, and a lot of other people like me, just don't have the option.

You can help give us that option by giving a shit about covid safety and disability justice in your community.

Thanks, Anon!

-submit your poll!-

[thatstoomanysausages]

My favourite activity to indulge in recently in non-stop binging The Crane Wives' songs, especially the new album, and tallying how many times I can somehow link the lyrics to Desert Duo.

At this point it might be a talent of delusion, and I am winning.

Here is a list of lyrics in the newest album that I am particularly delusional about (it's long. It's 2am)

(btw it's every single new song. I am tired as fuck)

Scars:

"All the love, all the kindness, all your best-laid plans/Couldn't stop me from becoming the way that I am" (3rd Life reference referring to Scar inevitable turning red despite all of Grian's plans to keep him alive and safe)

"A fatal fault at the start/Tell me it's inevitable that I'd end up with scars" (3rd Life, when Scar is quickly killed in the beginning by Grian)

"Nothing could have been done/Is that right?" (3rd Life. Conversation between Grian and Scar after the creeper prank)

"Nothing could have been done" (3rd Life. After Scars falls to red)

"Nothing could have been done/Is that right?" (3rd Life. After Grian kills Scar with his own bare hands)

"End up with scars from falling/Down, down" (3rd Life, Grian's final death via suicide)

"We were always meant to fall apart" (Not even one specific series. Every single one of them actually.)

Bitter Medicine:

"Are you ashamed of me, or did you buy what I'm selling?" (3rd Life reference about Scar's scamming nature and Grian's disappointment that hides the fact that he's charmed by Scar. Every. Single. Time.)

"Made my bed but I'll sleep anywhere, anywhere" (Wild Life reference. I think we all know. Pillows smelling like waffles? Yeah.)

Higher Ground:

"I gave up the truth and now I can't take it back" (3rd Life. Grian telling Scar that he was the one that brought the creeper over. Or. Double Life Grian if he ever told Scar about his Secret Soulmate. OR. Wild Life, Grian telling Scar literally anything about the wildcard)

"I didn't wanna hurt anyone" (Oh.)

"The corvids are calling/Warning the forest a predator is approaching/Am I in danger, or am I the threat" (Grian is often characterised as a corvid if not a parrot. Basically any scenario in Wild Life where Grian is warning Scar about the wildcards despite the fact that he is at fault of making them happen)

Predator:

"What were you thinking?/Shouldn't you know better?/You opened a door for an apex predator" (Any scenario in which Scar welcomes Grian into his home and doesn't think twice about the danger the other could be harbouring. His trust for Grian is unimaginable)

"I keep forgetting the lessons I've learned/So I keep getting hurt" (Before Scar won, he never remembered what had happened with Grian, so he went back to him for safety multiple times, teamed with him, didn't mind his company, not knowing the dangers that Grian represents just by existing)

"Your heart is a nasty place/I'm afraid to say no to you" (...Yeah)

"Keep your lies and your denial/I am fighting for survival/My heart is a changing shape/What if I said no to you?" (DOUBLE LIFE DESERT DUO TAKE ME HOME. The 'changing shape' line implying that their soulmates could change their soulbound partners if they really wanted to, and could adapt to being with another if they desired it)

"You took advantage of another anxious people-pleaser" (I can't keep doing this. Honestly, depending on your point of view, this could go either way for them in varying seasons, they're doomed in every universe)

"I keep forgetting that you wont learn/So I keep getting hurt" (And now it switches to Grian on this paralleling line. He forgets about Scar's undying loyalty and falls into the trap of his safety every time, only to come out hurting him or not protecting him like he swore to in 3rd Life. This line goes so hard)

Say It:

"Say it/If it's over, say it/So I can move forward/Please don't leave me in the dark/Praying for a wayward spark" (This whole chorus screams them. They won't communicate. They never officially separate from one another, always somehow intertwined, but neither will finalise their allyship. I need therapy)

"I'm haunted by your tenderness" (3rd Life Grian traumatised by the half-hearted hits Scar was giving because he was letting Grian win, he never wanted to fight, he felt Grian deserved to win because he had done so so much for him. He was completely smitten)

"And if we meet as strangers again/Would you refuse to meet my eyes?" (Grian internally questioning Scar after he killed him in the 3rd Life finale, harbouring more guilt than he can comprehend, literally)

"You know I'm loyal to a fault" (Scar and Grian interchangeably in 3rd Life...)

"I will sit here waiting/Waiting for the axe to fall" (Scar submitting his life to Grian after they are left the last two alive. And also, if you're insane for Treebark, there is a glaringly obvious implication of Martyn feeling incredible guilt after axing Ren down to red, even if he asked him to.)

Mad Dog:

"Keep looking for the end of the tunnel/Never seems to get any closer" (The two waiting as winners for the games to end and alongside it, their suffering as well. They will never be free from circling around each other, over and over and over again)

"We both know the ship is gonna sink/But I keep reaching for the shore/Never seems to get any closer" (They both keep reaching towards each other, knowing that they will never truly be able to be together, especially after the first time where they did, and it ended horribly for them)

Arcturus Beaming:

"My sanctuary to worship the pain" (References the panda sanctuary that Scar built to help the soulmates heal their bonds, only to never complete its purpose with the two that needed it the most, ironically including the one that built it)

"And I am tired of forming a cliff face/Inside of my chest now" (Grian remembering jumping off of Monopoly Mountain and the weight that it now burdens his heart with. This line is diabolical with the right context)

"I'm grieving all that I gave" (Both of them grieving the sacrifices they made for one another, their sacrifices only making their relationship more strained overtime)

"A mirror image of us here, but they're pointing up at our sun and/Asking themselves/What exists beyond, beyond, beyond, beyond?" (Other versions of themselves in different life series looking at their 3rd Life selves and wondering what it was like to be so tightly allied)

"But there's still time, it's not too late/Nothing will change until I change" (Grian's attempt at teaming with Scar in Limited Life, savouring the time he had with him before killing him. He will never change their bond, he is always destined to kill him one way or another)

Time Will Change You:

"Planting hearts in a grave/Pray they grow after it rains" (Grian burying all his allies, hoping that as he digs their graves, he can heal their broken bonds, the cracks only caused by himself. This can unfortunately apply to a lot of Grian's allies, but Grian and Scar's relationship tries to heal itself each season)

"Someday/Time will change you/You'll leave behind what doesn't move" (Someday Scar will remember and he'll leave Grian behind once he realises that Grian was never able to move on, and that his heart is still stuck neck deep in the sand where both their bodies laid at the end of 3rd Life)

"Give me a chance to get this right/I'm learning how to let go" (They're learning, but they'll always fail, no matter how many chances)

Black Hole Fantasy:

"There's a black hole in the living room floor/I keep trying to ignore, but it's growing" (Their need to team and interact is overwhelming, and the longer they ignore one another, the larger their need will get)

"If love is just a chemical reaction/Is there a pill to take? Something to quell this ache?/ Is this the real thing or a distraction/Is it worth the risk?/My life would detonate" (Mmmmmm I'm losing it here)

"I'm on my way to your house, I can't wait anymore" (Yeah.)

"My knuckles hesitate an inch away from the door/What happens when it opens?" (They've spent so much time apart and away from one another that they feel fear that the moment they reconnect, it won't be the same as it was in the desert)

"And on the other side is another life/A version of me with a spark in her eyes that I don't have" (Looking back to 3rd Life when everything was simpler and happier)

"You pull me in your arms and I feel your heart pounding/I take a step back to catch my breath/And we look at each other and double over/And laugh, and laugh, and laugh" (Yeah. Just yeah. This whole verse makes me sob)

Red Clay:

(Already I want to make a link to 'red' and Scar's existence in 3rd Life being very red)

"Blistering sun, my sweat soaking my clothing" (THE DESERT???)

"We don't have to do this the hard way" (We don't have to battle to the death bare handed. We don't have to.)

River Rushing:

"I know I can't grow with a hand around my throat/Hold yourself steady/Whenever you're ready" (Reference to their fight to the death in 3rd Life)

This entire song is just a narration of their fight honestly and it makes me violent.

[hotteokyu]

Ice on her Lips

Synopsis ~ Gifted with the curse of immortality, you are the northern princess that each kingdom desires to grasp. You hide within the northern army as an infamous general, fighting for your kingdom's treasure with ease... until a soldier from the east kingdom, whom you can never overpower, discovers your identity. The water is warm, but his lips are warmer, and you suddenly never want to return home. Even if you give your greatest enemy your sacred gift, you wish to stay in his enchanting hold.

Pairing ~ enemy!seonghwa x enemy!princess!reader

Word count ~ 5.3k

Genre / warnings ~ historical-ish, fantasy, romance, EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT, enemies-to-lovers, violence, war, blood, suffering, reader has white hair for plot, kissing, outdoor / semi-public sex, underwater play (?), the cave makes his soft noises really loud, he tries to gain control but he's a mess, unprotected sex, they almost get caught, oral sex (female receiving), hand job (hardly), he cums on his own, he cums untouched once, they're very mean (´‸`), desperate sex, just read it

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ! ! !

a/n ~ please enjoy! mwa ᯓᡣ𐭩

     You fight for your kingdom. You fight for its treasure which thousands have fallen to protect. You fight for your precious life, and that is why you are regarded with the highest rank and greatest respect.

     Because you fight for the kingdom’s treasure. 

     Because you are the kingdom’s treasure. 

     Your men don’t know you’re the princess that they are meant to die for. Your enemies don’t know you are not the general they desire to kill with every fiber of their being and dignity as a soldier. 

     It is your greatest amusement, watching your enemies fall at your feet with such hatred in their glare at the one thing they desire so greatly.

     You are the princess of the northern kingdom. Your skin is cold as frostbite, but warm blood streams healthily throughout their vessels. Your hair is white as the snow leopard which hides deep within your icy soul. You are a beauty, and you have the one thing all men wish to obtain. Immortality. 

     Although that term is very misleading, it is more or less true. You are gifted with everlasting youth and health until you die by a sword to your frozen heart. You have the ability to give any one being your gift. 

     Your northern kingdom wishes to let you live as any princess would until you pass peacefully. They believe immortality should not be brought upon any man or woman. Again, they do not realize it isn’t quite immortality. Nonetheless, the four kingdoms are at constant war, fighting to obtain the princess or protect the princess from the wrong hands.

     “Where are your men?” 

     You don’t turn your head, your eyes focused on pulling your warm gloves over your bruised hands. You recognize his voice, the man whom you happen to come across at least once a week in battle. He’s a general from the east, dressed in complete black from his long, bunned hair to his horse. 

     “I’m on vacation today,” you say softly, leaning back on your hands as you peek over at him. “Didn’t you hear? The princess died. Fight’s over.” 

     He huffs a laugh, smiling as he glances over at the entrance to the cave you’re resting in, sitting atop your beautiful white horse. 

     “Your men are missing as well,” you point out, eyeing the entrance. There’s no commotion or presence. He’s alone.

     “I came here to rest,” he says.

     “I doubt that,” you sigh. “Did you follow me here? Think I’d undress? Per-”

     “I think it’s time one of us dies,” he interrupts. “Men are falling at our sides and yet here we stand unharmed. We must fall alone for the sake of what will come of this war.”

     You tilt your head. How virtuous. “And what if you fall?”

     “So be it,” he answers confidently. “But I will not.”

     “I don’t think you understand why I’m so good at what I do, Park Seonghwa,” you whisper. Your tiny voice echoes throughout the cave, and your footsteps bounce from the walls as you dismount your horse.

     He comes down to your level, his boots clacking softly against the wet rock. He towers over you, but he doesn’t look so intimidating off of his stallion. He reaches out and taps your helmet curiously.

     “Is it this?” he asks. “You hiding something under there?” 

     You smile softly. “Let’s fight to the death,” you say. “Then we’ll find out.” 

     Seonghwa overpowers you with his pure strength, but you have an immaculate technique to counter. He’s good with his sword, but he’s so predictable. It’d almost be boring if not for his constantly trying to run at you and put you down. What kind of strategy is that? It’s pathetic. I guess he’s trying to use your weakness, but, really, let’s be serious. 

     But brute strength and better technique do balance out a little more than you’d like. It’s been hours of back-and-forth jabs and deep slices, and you’re both bleeding puddles onto the rocky cave ground. You’re panting, bent over as you clutch your trembling arm. You’ve lost your sword at this point, your fist curled tight as if you could deal a punch on this man while you weren’t about to pass out. 

     Seonghwa isn’t much better, but he’s standing tall, his sword snapped in two at his feet. He’s dripping streams of blood from his limbs, but he puffs his chest out in a laugh. He takes a trembling step forward, his expression remaining calm despite the tremors of his limbs. He reaches out slowly, and you can’t find it in you to stop him.

     As your helmet crashes to the floor, the metal clanking and echoing aggressively until it rolls to a stop, your hair falls into its natural place, covering your face from his faltering gaze. His fingers gently touch a strand, slowly following it to its tip without disturbing its soft delicacy. 

     “You understand now?” you choke out, trying to hide your fear. Seeing what you desire most practically in your hands could drive a man mad. Fuck technique, he could take you right now, and you won’t be able to stop him. It’ll all be over. 

     “I understand,” he says quietly. You lift your head in choppy, trembling movements. “Your kingdom does not understand your gift’s beauty, so they have thrown you to the one place where you can die.” 

     You clench your jaw. He’s hardly holding your hair between his fingers with any determination, but it feels like a tight leash. You can’t back away. “You don’t understand, then,” you say.

     “Princess.”

     Your leg shoots up to his face, and he grabs your calf, a deep scowl running over his soft features. He pushes your leg away, but you push harder until he slams into the ground. He grips your hair, pulling you with him with a harsh tug, and you immediately slam your hands into his throat, sitting your knees on the deep slashes on his arms. You dig your broken fingers into his neck, his eyes wide and arms useless. He grits his teeth, desperate to breathe as he squirms under you. His eyes never leave yours, his pupils contracted to thin slits of livid warning. As you eye the shards of his sword, preparing to end this once and for all, you hear a roar of footsteps coming from outside the cave.

     You grunt, throwing yourself away from him and sprinting further into the cave. You hear him cough and gasp, stumbling pathetically behind you as you escape into the darkness.

     You’ve been hiding behind a waterfall for hours. It’s cold, your clothes soaked in blood and mist from the splash of the water. You’re far from the cave, having found a small hole to escape from. You’re hidden carefully where no one should find you. 

     And you don’t know what to do.

     You’re cold and hungry. You’re too cautious to go out to find food. You’re too injured to move much anyway. You’ve wrapped up your cuts with strips of fabric from your clothes, but that’s all you can do. Your satchel is back with your horse. You think you should call for help. But… What if Seonghwa was right? Your kingdom had always expressed their hatred for your gift. You had wanted to be a soldier since you were young, but… normally kingdoms don’t let their princesses go to war, do they? 

     You sigh, resting your head against the damp rock behind you. “I don’t know,” you mumble, gazing out through the gentle stream of water at the entrance to the cave. 

     You hardly hear the gentle rustling of the flowers beside the pond, but you quickly scoot yourself deeper into the darkness when you see two black boots appear. It’s Seonghwa.

     “Are you kidding me?” you say through tightly gritted teeth. 

     He’s standing there, but he doesn’t look like he sees you. He looks calm, eyes gazing at the soft ripples of the water. His hair rests gently against his neck, wavy and thick, almost reaching his shoulders. He runs his rough fingers through the top, ruffling it lightly. He won’t see you. He’s off guard now. He’s alone. 

     You sit up slightly. He’s alone, off guard. You should kill him. You look around with your eyes without making any sudden movement. There’s hardly anything around you. No loose rocks or sticks. It’s all just… You spot a sharp rock from you. He’ll definitely see you. There’s no way you can reach it without him seeing you. Anyway, there’s no way you could muster the strength to crawl over there. You’re involuntarily limp. You should just pray he leaves. Don’t get into a fight. 

     But you eye him and start to panic when you spot him dipping his bare feet in the water, his shirt gone, and his hands working at the strings of his pants. How did he get undressed so quickly?? Is he seriously going to bathe in the middle of his enemy’s land?? 

     He pauses, though, and you nearly breathe a sigh of relief, your shoulders releasing their tension slowly. His muscles and scars flex as he turns slightly, his head tilting back into a small roll, stretching his stiff neck. He looks tired, his lips parted softly, eyes closed gently. He’s certainly doing better than you, but you definitely made him too weak to fight for a while. He lets out a soft sigh, and your ears perk up at the sound, the slight vocalization of his low voice rumbling gently through his chest. 

     “Princess…”

     Your ears fall, your expression blank. You don’t breathe, don’t think. 

     “Let me treat your wounds,” he says, tilting his head forward as he eyes the stream of water protecting you from his view. Or perhaps not. 

     But you remain still. Why would you go out? Even if it’s petty, you won’t give up. Even if it’s useless, you shouldn’t just hand yourself over.

     “Or will you watch me undress and bathe like a pervert?” he asks, and it gains him a scurry of trembling legs against the slippery cave floor. 

     You’re not just giving yourself to him… He’s going to heal you, and then you’ll run away. You won’t fight him. You won’t let him take you. You’ll run far…

     You can hardly climb down onto the soft grass, and you land harshly on your hands. Your arms fail to prop you up, so your face lies against the fluff of the damp green. He’s slow and cool as he walks over to you, kneeling beside you. He doesn’t touch you or say anything. He gazes at you for a second, your white locks stained by the puddles of your blood. Your bandages have done nothing to stop your bleeding.

     His fingers graze your hair before he lifts your head slightly. You groan, your head pounding as he lays it atop a soft fabric. 

     “Just lay here,” he says quietly. “I will take care of your wounds.” 

     His touch is so delicate. As much as you want to push him away, you want to pull him closer and have him caress your poor body like this forever. As much as you want to run away, you want to sink into the grass and fall asleep to his gentle breaths. 

     Your eyes open drowsily, hardly able to roll back into place, as you’re surrounded by warm, gentle water. The lake envelops your stinging limbs, and it numbs the feeling that you’re so used to. It should enhance the pain, and yet you feel weightless, skinless, boundless, yet still calm and sleepy. 

     “I used an ointment from the east,” he says below his breath, so quietly. “It’s very efficient,” he takes a soft breath, “and it’s lovely.” His voice is beside your ear, and you know his body is touching yours in familiar, intimate ways. But his voice is enchanting, lulling you to a hazy clarity of calm. “Are you hungry, princess?” he asks.

     One of his arms wraps around your waist, which is bare, as his skin directly slides along yours. Your cushion is his lap, but that is clothed as it should be. As he reaches for a basket along the grass beside the water, his chest leans further against your back. You gaze down with a warm, slow breath. Your chest is covered. He’s a kind monster at least.

     “Here,” he says, holding a container of fresh water up for you to take. Your hands tremble but can hardly move. Your head tilts to the side in a weak frustration. Your head is so fuzzy. It doesn’t hurt any longer, but you can’t seem to take control of any of your movements. Perhaps you’ve lost far too much blood. “Princess,” he whispers, and you hum in weak acknowledgment. With a sigh, he brings the container to your lips, but you can hardly form any shape with them, and the water flows quickly to the pond beneath the target. He takes it away with a soft grumble. Then, he brings it to his own lips, takes a small sip, and his other hand lifts your chin gently.

     His lips barely touch yours, just slightly to open your wide enough for the water to pass through. When he leans away, his fingers close your jaw, and you swallow weakly, your brows knitted together in relief as your horrible thirst is finally starting to be quenched. 

     He takes another sip and repeats, his head tilting slightly in something you would hardly call a kiss. But as you swallow, the sharp pain in your throat begging for more, your useless fingers claw gently at his side, and he pauses in his tracks, his eyes searching for what’s wrong. You can’t speak. You need more. He needs to hurry. 

     Your head trembles as you lift it slightly. “M-more,” you mumble. You should just drink it yourself. Fuck, you need more.

     He hurries to take another sip, and you meet him in the middle, smashing your lips against his. His body lifts a little as you push forward. You swallow the water quickly, and he tries to go away, but he’s going too fucking slow. Your lips move desperately against his, your throat burning with need.

     “P-Princess,” he gasps, turning his head away quickly. He grabs the container and takes a larger sip, bringing it back, and you’re on top of him before he can turn completely. Your wounds are healing fast with this lovely ointment, and your hands can finally move as you grab the back of his neck and pull his lips down onto yours. There’s more this time, and you swallow hard, pushing your tongue into his mouth to find whatever you can before he has to leave again. “There’s-” he gasps, “no- more-” 

     Your fingers slide through his damp hair, soft and thick against your rough hands. He’s curled over you, your back arched as you pull him desperately closer. Fuck, you’re hardly even thirsty anymore. His taste, his gasps, his vulnerability, and his kindness. You need more. As your fingers slide through his hair, he groans softly. It probably feels good. Someone like him has never felt such love, such care and affection. You want to give it to him so bad. You should repay him for his kindness. 

     You break away, panting and flushed. His eyes are hooded, his lips puffy as he leans toward you. His cheeks are a light pink, hair disheveled. What a beautiful sight.

     Your lips find his jaw, feeling it clench as you trail soft pecks down to his neck. His skin is soft here, untouched. You nibble lightly on the skin and listen to his gentle shiver as you give kitten licks to ease the sting. You graze your teeth against him as you open wider, teasing the skin as you press lightly down. His hands slide across your thighs, squeezing them as he lifts his chin a little more, giving you more access. 

     Thumping footsteps make both of you jump, and a deep, obnoxious voice calls out, “Seonghwa!” He pushes your head harshly under the surface, and everything else is muffled for you. His hands quickly gather your hair and hold your strands tightly so they won’t float everywhere.

     You open your eyes slowly, listening intently to the voices above. Seonghwa is looking behind him, speaking, but you can’t make anything out. You won’t die or anything, but, if you run out of air, you’ll pass out. You really don’t want to deal with that right now.

     Pressing your lips together tightly, you lower your eyes to his body to occupy your mind while you wait. Fuck, his bare, hard chest and defined stomach sitting right in front of you... He should really thank you for this body. Fuck, he’s beautiful. Really, it’s because of you he’s had to train so hard. 

     His… oh…? You raise a brow as your eyes land on his crotch. He’s wearing black briefs, his thighs thick and hard, but not harder than his cock. The bulge is big and hard to miss, straining against the fabric. It doesn’t leave much of anything to the imagination. The tip is outlined, the shape of him defined in detail just for you. How is he so worked up from a few innocent kisses? 

     You glance up, and he’s taking his sweet time talking to those men. You’re going to run out of air soon, but this fucker doesn’t care, does he? He thinks because you’re immortal you can just sit under water like it’s nothing. 

     You huff, a small bubble of air floating to the surface, and you grab his cock. He jumps, his hand tightening around your hair and pulling lightly in warning. But you don’t let go. He’ll get them out of here, or his dick is gonna fall off. 

     It’s heavy in your hand, though still covered by the fabric. You wonder how thick it’d feel out of the water, just resting in your hand. You wonder how he’d sound if you gripped it hard and stroked him until he came with a pathetic whine. You swallowed hard, feeling it pulse in your grip. 

     Feeling newly frustrated, you look up, and he’s still talking. What the fuck is there to even say? You grit your teeth and grab the band of his briefs, pulling them down until his cock slowly comes out, floating to hit against his stomach. He pulls more harshly on your hair, and you groan. It doesn’t hurt underwater. Everything feels numb and weightless. It just tickles a little. Maybe it’s because you’re losing air, and your head is feeling foggy, but you want to push him further. You want him to hurry, but you also want to torture him just a bit. 

     You wrap your hand around him, your fingers almost able to touch but not quite. He’s so hard, twitching in your hold and shivering as you slowly glide your hand up to the tip. You watch his stomach tense up at every subtle movement. He sinks a bit further into the water as your thumb brushes over the slit. He’s throbbing at this point. Maybe being watched is getting him off. Maybe he likes the thrill of possibly getting caught. 

     You stroke him slowly, feeling every vein and unique shape, mesmerized by how his entire body shudders when you do something he likes. Fuck, you want to hear him. He’s so stern and confident, but, look at him, he’s trembling just for you. 

     You stroke him a little faster, your air running thin quicker and quicker and time moves fast. He grabs your wrist, and suddenly, you’re lifted from the water. 

     You gasp for air, coughing and taking long, deep breaths. He pats your back as you grasp his shoulders, wiping at your eyes as you try to see again. Fuck, your head hurts. That was close. You really thought you would pass out there. 

     “Fuck, Seo-” He grabs your body and lifts you over his shoulder. Your upper body hands against his back as he holds you there by your thighs. Your wet hair dangles into the water, floating along the surface like a spider’s web. “What are you-!”

     He grabs the waistband of your pants and pulls them down, discarding them somewhere, and suddenly your ass feels very fucking cold. You squeak pathetically as his hand digs into your flesh, his fingers slipping slightly into the wetness of your core. 

     “Since you seem to like games like this, we should keep playing, right?” he practically growls. You feel a thick finger slowly slide through your slick, and you shiver. It slips through your soaked lips and teases your hole before moving away completely. “Who knows who might come and see us, princess?” he says, his voice low and thick with anger. 

     You try to spout something back, but he slams two fingers into your hole, and a long, pathetic moan is all you can utter. Your legs try to spread wider, but they can’t move, and it makes everything so tight. Fuck, he’s ramming his fingers against your walls, and you tremble, your moans airy as you struggle to breathe and absorb the pleasure at the same time. 

     “Someone could be watching right now,” he says. “Maybe it’s your men. They’ll watch their great general cum on their enemy’s fingers.”

     His teeth graze your side before biting down on your flesh. You whimper, his every word and- No, no, what the fuck are you doing? You let him have his way as soon as he gave you something good. You groan as you reach into the water and search until you find his cock. You grab it tightly, and his pace falters.

     “Princess,” he warns, but both of you stop as soon as you hear a slight rustling in the woods.

     Your body is slammed into the water, and he follows right behind this time. He urges you to swim toward the waterfall, and you get there before him, pulling him to the surface quickly, and his hand wraps around your mouth as you go to say something. 

     “I swear I saw her come this way!” a young man shouts. “Look! She must have been here!” He must be pointing to Seonghwa’s bag, which was beside the river.

     Seonghwa is pressed against you, your back to the rock path which you had been resting on before he found you. The cave is dark and silent as you both listen intently. 

     “She’s most certainly been captured,” a deep, nasty voice declares. You know that voice all too fucking well, and your eyes grow wide. The king. “Follow the river to the northern kingdom. It is where she must be!”

     There are too many footsteps to count as his army does as they’re told. Everything goes silent again, and you release the breath you didn’t realize you’ve been holding. You should have called out for them, but it hardly even crossed your mind. Why? 

     Turning back to Seonghwa here, you don’t even care about going home.

     Neither of you even question it. You don’t care.

     He lifts you onto the rock and spreads your legs, your hips right against the edge. His warm breath fans over your thighs as he gazes into your eyes. Your cheeks are so hot despite the cool air against your wet skin, and you lean back onto your hands with a soft sigh. You watch as his gaze fixes on your pussy, a low groan tingling your ears. 

     One of your hands comes to his head, your fingers tangling in his hair as he kisses your inner thigh softly. His lips press against your slick, and you whimper, biting your lip as his brows lift at the taste of you. His eyes roll to a close, his tongue licking a thick strip from your hole to your clit, and you tremble, your ears twitching as the wet sounds of him against you are enhanced by the cave walls. 

     His hands grip your thighs as he sighs, his lips moving like a kiss against your pussy, his tongue flicking your clit and tasting your sweet slick desperately.

     “Fuck ngh~” you whine, your hips grinding against his tongue. “S-Seonghwa, Seonghwa~” Your words are airy and slurred, your eyes shaking as they roll to the back of your head with every suck and lick against your clit. His breathing is getting heavier, and you notice the lack of one of his hands on you. “Seonghwa, Seonghwa, sstop, I’ll h-hellp yoou,” you mumble, pushing his head away, but he doesn’t move. His lips move faster, his tongue burying deep in your hole, and your back falls to the rock, your legs trembling as he fucks your soaked hole with his tongue. “Hhwa, Seonghwa mm~ Hwa, llet me, pleease,” you beg, feeling his rhythm pick up, the heat and pleasure building quickly. “No, no,” you whine, a tear slipping down your burning cheek. “I’m gonna cum, fuck, Seonghwa.” You grind your pussy against his lips as your body trembles in pure ecstasy. You let out a desperate moan as he flicks his tongue over your clit, riding out your orgasm until you’re limp, shaking under him. 

     “Good girl,” he mumbles, leaving a peck on you as he backs away.

     “Shut the fuck up,” you growl, grabbing his hair. You sit up, closing your legs with a huff. “Fuck me. Right now.” His eyes grow a little wide, and you quirk a brow. “What’s wrong? Did you already cum?” He doesn’t answer, and you tug on his hair harder. “All on your own?” You laugh in disbelief. “Get out of the water.”

     He climbs onto the rock, and you push him onto his back, straddling his lap. Suddenly he’s so quiet. Suddenly his dick isn’t a hard, throbbing mess. You scoff, gripping him and pressing your pussy against him. He groans, his brows furrowed as you grind slowly. 

     “That wasn’t very nice of you, Seonghwa,” you spit, humming softly at the little bits of pleasure your clit gets. “Especially toward a princess.” You feel him growing harder in your grip, and you smile. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” 

    He’s silent, his soft breaths the only answer.

     “Of course, not,” you say. “Cumming all on your own. I didn’t even get to see your pretty face.” You reach out and push back the little hairs covering his eyes. You grab his chin harshly and pull him toward you. You smash your lips against his, grinding your hips harder as you feel him grow stiff. He whimpers against your mouth, his hands grabbing your hips and trying to still you, so you drop him with a huff. He groans as his head hits the floor, but before he can recover, you're lining his dick up to your hole. 

     “P-Princess,” he whimpers, his eyes rolling back as you sink onto his thick cock. Your lips puff out as you stifle a moan, his tip rubbing just the right spot, so deep inside you. You place your hands on his chest, your head hanging as you get used to the stretch. 

     “Y/n,” you whisper, afraid your voice will fail you if you try to speak. “Say my name,” you whine, “please, say my name, fuck ngh~”

     His cock twitches as he suppresses the need to thrust into your tight, soaked hole. “Y/n,” he gasps as you lift your hips slowly and drop back down. “Y/n, y/n, princess, do that again, fuck~” 

     As you lift your hips again and slam them back down, you collapse onto his chest with a soft cry. You let your hips do the work, your mouth devouring his as you fuck yourself on his cock. His hands grip your hips, pushing you down faster when you lift up. He wants to melt into you, this feeling making his entire body shudder with pleasure. His cock rubs against your walls and hits you just right, and you’re literally drooling into his mouth as you moan his name. 

      “Y/n, Y/n! Y/n, baby, you’re so tight,” he moans. “Are you gonna cream on my cock for me, princess? Come on, I know you’re close.” He plants his feet and grabs your hips, thrusting up into your pussy as you slam down. He picks up the pace and your head falls to his chest, your body limp as he fucks you desperately. “Come on,” he begs. “I’m gonna cum~” He hiccups. “Together, baby, come on, please~” He bites your shoulder as he tries to stop his moans, but his voice only gets louder as his thick, warm cum fills your pussy. Your eyes roll back as you feel him stuff you full, but it’s just not enough to make you cum. You can’t see his beautiful face. 

     So you lift off of his cock, his cum spilling out of you quickly, and you straddle his head, sitting your pussy against his lips. You watch his hazy eyes spill soft tears as he laps at you, drinking his own cum and your sweet slick. It doesn’t take much as he fucks you on his tired tongue, your pussy grinding on him at your own pace, for you to cum, whimpering and gasping as your body shakes with bliss. You watch him tremble as his cock spurts again, his face contorting beautifully just like you’d wanted to see. 

     You sit beside him and admire his beauty, completely limp on the rocky floor. He’s wet with tears and cum, and his stomach is messy with his release.

     You lean down and lick from his stomach to his soft cock, cleaning his cum off of his body. He shivers gently until you’re done, and you lay beside him.

     Your clothes have all dried, the sun warm against your skin as you both lay in the grass. There’s a comfortable yet questioning silence in the air. What now?

     “I don’t think I want to go home,” you say, gazing at the thin clouds and gentle sway of the trees. 

     Your answer is obvious. You want to live freely. But you know there’s no possibility of that ever happening. You know, whether you go home, where you’re resented for your gift, or go with Seonghwa, where you are desired for your gift, you will never be free. 

     “You were right. What you said when we had our duel.” He quirks a brow. “They sent me out to die.” 

     “Shall we just kill the northern king, then?”

     You whip your head toward him, his smile teasing as he gazes at you. 

     “You’re joking,” you sigh, turning away. 

     “I’m not.” He sits up with a small grunt. “Let’s take over the northern kingdom.”

     “Hell no,” you spit, propping yourself up on your hands. “Seonghwa, you're an eastern general. I’m not starting shit with you.”

     “So what do you want?”

     He looks at you silently. There isn’t a word in his eyes, and it forces you to think. What the fuck have you been doing your whole life besides killing to protect your fucking immortal gift? And the northern king refuses to use it. He wants you and your gift dead, but… what do you want? 

     “I want the fighting to stop,” you say. “I want men to stop dying for their greed.”

     “What do you want, princess?” he asks again. “Forget your gift. What do you want?” 

     You glance down at your clothes, dirty and old. A man’s clothes which you never really wanted to wear. The thrill of the battlefield is what keeps you moving, but you’ve always desired what could’ve been without your immortality. 

     “Shall we?” you mumble, gazing up at Seonghwa. “Shall we just kill him?” 

a/n ~ thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you thoughttt~ ू(ʚ̴̶̷́ .̠ ʚ̴̶̷̥̀ ू)

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[bylertruth3r]

imagine this.. st5 starts and we get a Byler kiss but then it turns out it was just a dream but then we see Mike suddenly wake up and he sits up and he's sweating cuz he was the one who has dreaming of that and then Will asks if he's ok and we find out that Will is next to him in bed and we get a parallel to the s2 Miwi scene

Imagine Will teaching Mike how to use a gun in st5 and their faces are really close to each other and he notices that Will's voice has really gone deeper over the years and he starts blushing and gay panicking about it (I want this to happen before they start dating), and then they start leaning in and they're about to kiss but Jonathan interrupts them and we have a Byler almost kiss before their first kiss

and imagine Will trying to get closer the guy who hits on him in s5 and he starts bringing him to their party hang outs and the guy starts getting protective of Will and Mike starts getting jealous about it so they have a fight in the rain and Mike says "what? You don't need me anymore?" And that's how it's revealed that Mike knows Will lied about the painting and then Mike kisses Will and Will is shocked and at first he doesn't kiss him back so Mike panics and says he's sorry and has soon as he's about to leave Will grabs his arm and pulls him into a passionate kiss

And imagine Will changing in Mike's room and Mike walks in on shirtless Will and he blushes and starts gay panicking about it

#let Mike see his boyfriend's muscles, because Mike likes muscly men or men who are stronger than him (Will)

[starrbar]

I've been furiously wondering about this, like I would LOVE to see all the events that took "Vi died during the job in this version" to basically a perfect Zaun where everyone else is happy.

The only idea I've had so far is that like, Vander has been struggling to keep his people satisfied with the painful status quo he's got the Lanes in because of his refusal to ever fight again. Vander was overcorrecting here because he didn't want anyone else to get killed.

Well, he didn't fight Piltover and one of his daughters still got killed.

Maybe that kind of made him realize that this status quo isn't what will keep his people safe in the end, it can't be maintained forever, and it didn't even protect his family. I dunno if he would have gone back out to search for Silco after this or if Silco would have heard about it and maybe finally approached him instead?

I love the idea of Silco being like, "Well, look at that. You sure are doing a good job keeping everyone safe." Kinda twist the knife because he still never received that letter and he's still hurt over the betrayal, so fuck Vander's feelings, right?

But Vander is like... idk, probably awfully conflicted. Angry and upset ofc, but he doesn't get physical cause he can't possibly regret what he did before only to do something like that again (as in that's what he thinks, so no punching or choking allowed, even if deserved in that moment). Maybe he's even kinda defeated about it or wrapped up in the shock of seeing Silco again since he apparently just never came back?

And they have one of those REALLY juicy, harsh fights that does eventually lead to them making up because at least now they're talking about it. Blurting out years of pent up hurt and pain and dead hopes, in an environment where they're on equal terms instead of Vander needing to focus on begging Silco not to destroy everything.

I love this timeline and I wanna see every speck of it??

also if anyone writes this scene out before I maybe possibly start to consider writing it myself, if anyone posts this, DM it to me, I'll read it in a heartbeat and cry about it. x3

🚨Crack theory🚨 but at first I was confused how Vi's death led to an alternate universe where everything is a utopia. Even if Hextech was never invented it doesnt explain how all the class disparity was solved. And then I realized it was probably this:

Vander and Silco are the only ones who really had a plan for a unified and independent Zaun. My theory: after the accident, Vander went into grief over the death of his daughter and stumbled pathetically into the arms of his ex-twink, finally apologized for trying to kill him that one time, they get back together and solve all poverty with the power of old man yaoi. (Also Silco stops making drugs at some point)