#brutal and benevolent

[amabela-14]

I'm mentally ill so have some lyrics

One for Julios

And one for Desna!

[attila-werther]

ngl I wish tumblr's block feature actually kept posts from people I have blocked from showing up if they're reblogged from people I'm following, because I'm not going to message my friends like 'hey I fucking despise this person with every fiber of my being,' because quite frankly. I'm just not going to do that, this is the cartoon clown car site. but I sure would like to never see a blocked url again unless it's in a post telling me that they've shuffled off this mortal coil

[somerandomg33k]

Shut up White Liberals

White Liberals, not all but some, when black folks are sharing their feelings about cops and how they don't feel outside because of cops, that is not a good time to say, "If folks just comply with the cops there wouldn't be any problem. Just saying."

In fact, there is no good time to say that.

George Floyd complied the entire time as he had a knee on his neck for over 9 minutes.

And that is not the only example.

Philando Castile complied too. Told the cop that he has a gun, legally. The cop shoot him seven times.

There are many examples that the list can go on. Whole books full of examples too. #SheHerName

But what is scary to me about that statement, is that the White Liberal is okay with there being someone with power over him so long as he complies.

If you believe that, then you believe in Benevolent Dictators. That is scary to me if the major of folks believe in that.

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

𝔅𝔞𝔫𝔦𝔰𝔥𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱 - 𝔒𝔟𝔰𝔠𝔲𝔯𝔢 𝔅𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔳𝔬𝔩𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢

[spacebabe51]

.

[lilacsandlillies]

I was going through the anti Jason Todd tag because I hate myself and want to understand where people who dislike him are coming from and one thing I kept seeing was annoyance at Jason fans who claim that Jason is female coded and realized that the term “female coded” might not be the best term to describe what we mean.

A female coded character in literature and media typically means a character that has no specified gender or otherwise does not have a gender but is obviously meant to be a stand in for a woman or female. Kind of like how Starfire has no specified race (due to being an alien) but is still obviously black coded based on the way she’s drawn and treated by the narrative.

This is slightly different than what we mean when saying that Jason is female coded. It’s not that Jason is literally supposed to be a stand in for a female character, it’s that the way a lot of characters treat him and a lot of the tropes used on him are things that usually saved for female characters, not big buff men like Jason.

To start with, being Robin is narratively (or at least was) very similar to being a woman in a story. Robin is a role made to complement Batman (who we all know is basically the ultimate male power fantasy). Robin’s role is to be an accessory to Batman. Robin can be smart, but not smarter than Batman. Robin can be strong, but not stronger than Batman. Hell, Robin is often kidnapped and used as a literal damsel in distress, a role often regulated for women as a whole.

What sets Jason apart from the other robins (except for Steph) in this regard is that they were allowed to be characters outside of Batman. Dick might not have been the “man” of the story when he’s with Bruce, but when he’s with the teen titans suddenly he’s the smart one who has all the answers. Jason’s Robin was never really allowed this.

Then we get to the most, controversial, part of Jason’s female coding. The fact the he was effectively fridged. Fridging is usually only referred to as frigding if it’s a female character, but Jason’s death checks pretty much all the other boxes needed. An incredibly brutal death that was more about Bruce’s feelings on it than Jason himself.

This is especially apparent when compared to the other Bat characters. For all the female coding, the only other Robin to actually be fridged was Steph (and we all know about the misogyny surrounding her death). Barbara was also kind of fridged during the killing Joke. The only female character to escape this is Cass (to my knowledge). When you look at it through this lens, the fact that the only other characters to be permanently damaged like this for Bruce’s story are female, it’s not hard to see where the idea that Jason is female coded comes from.

You can even find this in Jason’s origin story. Poor little orphan is saved by benevolent billionaire is a role usually saved for little girls, like in Annie.

Despite what you might think, this even continues after Jason’s revival. Jason is still used less as a character and more as a motivation for Bruce. He’s regularly called emotional and hysterical (terms usually used to refer to women).

Jason is first and foremost a victim. A role performed by women in most media. Men are expected to be stoic and “rise above” the things done to them as to not be victims, as continuously shown by the way characters like Nightwing are not allowed to be effected by the horrific things they go through. The fact that Jason is shown the be angry, and sad, and emotional, constantly, and the fact that he’s punished and vilified for it puts him in a place much more similar to a female character.

There’s a reason that so many Jason fans (that like him for a reason past “antihero with guns”) are female. For most characters, when you swap their genders there would be a pretty clear and big difference in the way their story takes place. If you swap Jason’s gender, the story takes place identically.

A lot of this is best shown in men’s reactions to Arkham Knight’s version of Jason. In that game, Jason is similarly angry and emotional, albeit for slightly different reasons. He is also still unmistakably a victim. You’d think the men playing would like him. After all he’s a big cool angsty guy with a lot of guns and muscles. Instead, a lot of men’s thought that he was whiny. That his feelings were annoying.

There’s also something to be said about how his autonomy is regularly undermined by Bruce (specifically in Gotham war) and how his decisions and feeling are constantly treated as if they’re worth less than Bruce’s, but that’s a discussion for another day.

[ohnoitstbskyen]

I deleted the ask, but someone wrote one basically saying "why do you post reaction videos to Helluva Boss? Don't you know the show exploits its workers and they're overworked and get burned out?"

And, I mean, I love your energy, person who asked, definitely hold on to those values and speak up about this. But also, I am afraid I might have some bad news for you about literally the whole entire animation industry.

As near as I can make out from the sparse journalistic reporting that's been done on SpindleHorse -- and as a sidebar, please for the love of god read actual reporting about these things and not just callout posts and fandom discourse -- as near as I can make out, SpindleHorse as a studio is neither all that much better nor all that much worse than basically anywhere else in the industry on their level. It seems like it is (or was? Hazbin Hotel seems to be run differently) a studio mostly run by contracting people on a project-by-project basis, which leads to a crapton of turnover, and a huge need for organizing and onboarding, which according to the reporting I have read, the producers and freelancers have struggled to balance and manage properly, which has negatively impacted a number of the workers.

Top that with the usual catty, clique-based backbiting, sniping and poorly managed conflict resolution that's just kinda endemic in creative environments mostly staffed by twentysomethings and stressed out freelancers, and you have the recipe for a workplace where a lot of people are going to have a great time and feel creatively fulfilled, and a lot of people are going to come away feeling justifiably burnt the fuck out and exploited.

All of this is... not especially unusual for the animation industry, or indeed for any creative industry. Which is not to say that it is good, or that it should be allowed to be normal, or that it shouldn't be reported on and criticized (and please for the love of god support unionization efforts because that's the only thing that will actually address these kinds of systemic problems). It's just to say that if those kinds of issues are the line in the sand you draw where you refuse to engage with a studio's output...

Then, for starters, say goodbye to basically all of anime, because the Japanese animation industry is actively in a state of crisis trying to recruit new talent because its working conditions and pay are so astonishingly abysmal. And the horror stories that escape from that industry make the issues at SpindleHorse look like summer camp at times.

But you also have to say goodbye to a lot of American and European animation. Please do not imagine that Disney and its subcontractors, or that Nickelodeon or Warner Bros, are benevolent employers. They exploit their staff brutally and are currently trying to crush the labor value of animation with threats of generative AI being used to replace jobs. But those corporations also have extremely well-funded PR departments and the ability to silence employees with NDAs and threats of blackballing, so you don't get to hear as many of the horror stories as you might from a smaller independent studio that's less able to silence criticism by holding people's careers hostage.

All of this is to say that 1) it's valid and important to have criticism of both large and small-scale animation studios, and to keep the well-being and happiness of the workers higher in your priorities than the output of Products™.

And 2) if you're going to have a principle for what kinds of problems make a studio's output morally untouchable for you, and what kinds of problems you think should make a studio's output untouchable to other people, you do need to apply that principle consistently to the entire industry, and not just to the independent animation studio that happens to be surrounded by the internet's most inflammatory fandom discourse.

If you don't apply that principle consistently, maybe don't send reproachful messages to strangers scolding them for not living up to your standards, and even if you do apply that principle consistently, maybe still don't do that, because it's mostly quite annoying, and doesn't really do anything to support animation workers struggling for better working conditions.

The Animation Guild in the US is currently in the middle of a bargaining process with their industry, and they have a social media press kit as well as relevant talking points on their website which you can use to post in solidarity with the workers. If it comes to a full industry strike, consider donating to their strike funds to help them maintain pressure. Outside of the US, try and find out what (if any) local unions exist for animation workers, and maybe sign up to their mailing lists. They will let you know what kind of support they need from you.

[gremlingottoosilly]

slasher!könig agreeing to meet and be interviewed by reader who produces and directs true crime documentaries :3

Konig loves his girls a bit crazy. You certainly fit the description. Now, crazy and obsessive - and brave, on top of everything. You're perfect in the way your eyes are shining brightly as you ask him about his latest victim. Both of you know he is never going to let you go after this after he gave you a tour of his house and let you meet one of his most compliant pets, but neither you nor he cares. You're a woman with determination, with the benevolent shine of a bright mind evident in the way you direct that podcast you're gushing so much about, and Konig is a tiny bit scared of you now. Scared and turned on - as much as he hates to admit it, but your butt does look good in those jeans. You interview his soon-to-be-dead victim, letting them give you wonderful insights on just how masterful Konig's knife work was. The killer himself promises to let you know it on your own after you're done with the podcast, but he can't even bring himself to make it an actual threat. If anything, you look and sound like you're going to fucking love this. If anything, it mostly look like you're ready to pick up a veil and be his perfect undead bride. Konig can't bring himself to murder you. You look like you're going to do this, like you will agree to be dead just for the sake of a great video - and he doesn't want that. Values you way too much for this to occur. Konig chokes you a little bit, just to make sure you're nice and unconscious - and then presses you down to his bed. Hands in handcuffs, chains all over your body. Cold biting your skin - he took your clothes off and burned it, so no one would get your trace. He was considering breaking down the recorder as well, but his wife would need something to do while he is too busy giving her new materials. You need your own toys. Konig has contacts - red rooms, dark web, the guys who used to pay him for the videos of war brutality he indulged in. He gives you an opportunity to be a star by providing the best fucking podcasts with sprinkled screams of his victims - and some sick fucks on the internet will buy it. Especially when connected to your moans as Konug mounts you, still hot and ready after killing the most recent guy. A power couple. You don't have a reason to go home now.

[senseandaccountability]

the healer has the bloodiest hands

I wrote some thoughts after the finale of Veilguard. Solavellan heavy.

This is just me, parsing through some feelings. "My people had a saying long ago -'The healer has the bloodiest hands'. You cannot treat a wound without knowing how deep it goes. You cannot heal pain by hiding it. You must accept. Accept the blood to make things better."  Solas to Thom Rainer in DAI.  ***

One can wonder, of course, what Mythal has to do with a Solavellan reunion and Solas’s choice to become the Veil’s protector, but hear me out. 

It is significant that it’s Mythal because she is the embodiment of his terrible past, the epitome of their brilliance and boldness and good intentions turned to terrible truths. The horrors they did, they did together. It is significant that it’s Mythal that sets him on this new course by removing the chains of his guilt and regret. Lavellan can’t do that, she didn’t forge them. Solas’s journey as the Dread Wolf begins and ends with Mythal. 

Mythal literally pulls Solas out of the Fade to use his wisdom, first to not lose herself to the other gods' vanity and brutality, then to gain advantage against them in an endless power struggle that breaks them both, I’d argue, though most significantly it breaks Solas. Retribution and revenge has no room for understanding, there is no wisdom in conquering. And Solas, for all his faults, isn’t brutal or cruel, doesn’t want power for his own gain. Instead he’s wise and creative, doomed to see the faults of his actions even as he carries them out, arguing in vain that the Evanuris too must see it - don’t cross these lines, don’t do it like this, don’t warp and twist your powers to forces of destruction. You must know this is madness! He objects to the creation of the bodies for the ancient elves, objects his own People’s physical creation. Did the earth not shake? It did, it was horrific and it was wrong and he knows this and it doesn’t matter. What he wants has never been part of the equation. 

Even when he breaks free from Mythal, when he burns her mark off his face, he never stops fighting for the world she once wanted. Because otherwise? Should he stop? Then all that he has done, all that he has given up, all that has been demanded of him both as Mythal’s lapdog and the Dread Wolf, leader of the rebel armies for centuries, cloaked in a persona of strategy and battle orders - all of that has been for nothing. He has made a ruin of himself, of the world, for nothing.  So he begins again, he picks up the pieces, he swears to make it right, to fix what he broke. That’s how he perceives healing, that’s what he thinks he is doing. But you cannot heal pain by hiding it. That’s why the Crossroads are falling apart with the manifestations of Solas’s greatest regrets, that’s why he needs Rook to escape his own prison, that’s why a Regret demon burns through Skyhold.

Solas traps the Evanuris as a final act of the ancient times, the creation of the Veil an embodiment of everything he and Mythal ever were - protection, benevolence, retribution, wisdom, pride. He ties it to the blood of the Firstborn out of spite and anger and it wrecks the world in ways he could not foresee. In ways he cannot fix because you cannot fix what has already happened.

You must accept. Accept the blood to make things better. He holds himself like a broken thing in front of Mythal and you can see it as submissive or as a man finally letting his grief out. There, at long last, he stands beaten and bloodied and blighted and he cries for all that was lost, all that he did and all that was done to him, all the things he cannot, cannot undo. And then: a new way forward.

In willingly binding himself to the Veil he embodies the best of those old myths, the All-Mother and the Breaker of Chains, as he breaks the cycle of punishment and grief and protects the sun and the moon. This oath, as opposed to the oaths of the empire that made him, is not to someone but to everyone, to all the innocents of the world. Instead of being the one who makes the terrible sacrifices of other people - the things I have done - he becomes the protector of the world that his people broke once upon a time. Instead of being the Creator of a new world without the Veil - the god he vehemently does not want to be, that he arguably thinks nobody should be - he becomes a caretaker, a guardian. A healer with bloody hands. And yes, it takes Mythal to break Mythal’s hold over him. You cannot treat a wound without knowing how deep it goes. And this one goes deep.  But it’s Lavellan who brings him the light in this story. It’s Lavellan who breaks through the dark, transforms it into something hopeful. 

His prison construct in the Fade was terrible, an abyss of regret made to hold a god. An ancient punishment for ancient crimes but times change, people change, the People change for better and for worse and here Lavellan stands in all her mortal imperfection, offering him not a way to change the past - where all these ancient beings are stuck - but a way to mend the future. It will be a terrible place, he tells her, saying I am terrible because the Fade shifts around our beings. It won’t be terrible, Lavellan argues. Because I’m there with you, walking the dinan’shiral with you, all the way. He doesn't have to fix anything first, he doesn't have to change for her, he just needs to stop hurting the world, hurting himself. Because she loves him, despite all the terrible mistakes he has made. Because she knows all his names, from Dread Wolf to Vhenan, she knows the power of his mind and the fires of his love and she saw more than most of the man he is. The man he wants to be. For a little slice of time there in Skyhold he was that man, he was seen and he saw. He saw the world filtered through her and could forgive it, he saw her through his own ancient, tired eyes and he fell in love no matter how much he thought he did not deserve it. You don't have to deserve love, or mercy, it doesn't demand anything in return, holds you to no oath. It is a gift, freely given. That's what Lavellan offers him by holding out her hand there, at the edge of everything. That's where the light slips in.

She’s real, which means everyone is real and she changes everything, because she can.  Ar lasa mala revas. 

[sinner-as-saint]

not without you

Viking Chief!Bucky x Witch!Reader 

Run-through: You’re a powerful witch, famous and respected for your mastery of magic and ability to control the elements. Naturally, people always need you. Vikings, kings, and common men alike, be it to magically save dying crops, help them win battles, or to protect their people by manipulating the weather. One day, a certain blue-eyed Viking chief asks for your help. Bucky Barnes – one of the strongest, most feared of his kind, known for his ruthlessness and brutal nature. He offers your wandering self shelter and protection in return for your help in keeping his people and crops alive and well with the harsh winter approaching fast. And you can’t seem to refuse his offer… 

Themes: witch!reader, viking chief!bucky, smut, fluff, mild knife kink, cosy winter vibes, metal arm, tatted!bucky, possessive!bucky, slight angst, HEA, 

a/n: thank you for 28k. I love you.

The wind whispered that he was on his way to you. 

By the time the Chief and his men made their way to your makeshift shack on the edge of the woods, you were already out waiting for them. 

Hidden under your billowy cloak, with the hood hiding most of your face, you stood and faced the men with confidence. You couldn’t see them, given the hood, but you sensed the way the Chief got off of his horse, clutching his sword in hand as he took a step. Not in fear, no. But in that arrogant way you’d expect a Chief to move. 

“Witch.” He greeted you. It was the only way he could greet you anyway, nobody knew your name. 

You smirked. Finally peeling your hood off your head. You gave him a brief nod, “Chief.” You looked him right in those ocean blue eyes of his and judging by the look in them, you could tell he wasn’t used to people maintaining eye contact with him. He was an important man after all, and most people feared him. 

But your magic had a way of reading people for you and… there was nothing to be afraid of. Not of him. He did look every bit of the fearsome viking he was known as though. Thick furs couldn’t hide the tall, muscular body. His shoulder length brown hair braided in some places. His handsome face was serious, like he rarely smiled. And all that ink all over his neck, and arm – just one arm because the other one was made of pure metal. 

You had heard stories of how he’d lost his arm in battle, and how a great, benevolent king – also a close friend of his – had the metal arm constructed for him. 

But above all else, the Chief was devastatingly handsome. You’d known, courted, and befriended quite some men. Hunters. Lords. Warlocks. Princes. Kings. Yet none were quite as devastatingly handsome as the Chief. 

You quickly looked behind him and saw two men standing taller and prouder than the rest of the warriors. The wind whispered their names to you. Sam. Steve. Both were just as handsome as their Chief, however there was something about the male standing in front of you with a sword in hand. Thick white fur wrapped around his shoulders. Clear, icy blue eyes. Pink mouth. The cold made his cheeks and nose red. 

“We heard rumours that you were close to our village, and we’ve come to ask for your help.” The Chief said, gracefully, calmly. 

You gave him a nod. “I know.” You said quietly. “The north wind brings news that this winter will be exceptionally harsh.”

Bucky gave you that look that most people gave you when they figured out that your magic was indeed real. He was just a little surprised, but composed himself. “We desperately need your help.” He spoke again. 

You agreed to help of course. This was your purpose with the magic you had. 

And since you had little to pack, you went with them immediately. They didn’t bring an extra horse so you rode with the handsome Chief back to his village where you would be spending the entirety of the coming winter. 

You never asked for anything in exchange. Some witches did, most of them did not. Mainly because you never needed anything, you had magic and you could conjure anything you wanted out of nothing. But you liked having company of people. So you considered that payment. 

And after spending months on your own, you were looking forward to meeting new people, helping them. 

During the ride back to the village you’d be calling home for the coming months, you felt the Chief tense behind you. His muscular arms circled around you as he held the reins but he was respectful enough to keep a few inches between you and him. You could only assume how much stress he was putting on his back to keep him from slouching forward. 

You hid your smile as you sensed that he was nervous. “You don’t have to be so tense.” You said, turning your head to the side a little. “Witches don’t bite.” You spoke quietly so that the men behind you wouldn’t hear. 

“I don’t…” He let out a huff of warm air. “I don’t want to be disrespectful.” 

You smirked, but he couldn’t see it. “I’m just saying, you could use the warmth.” 

He didn’t know what you meant until he slowly inched closer, his chest pressing against your back. Even with the multiple layers separating the two of you, your body heat wrapped around him in a way that had him sighing in relief. 

Without another word said, his metal arm wrapped around your middle as he pulled you against him even more. You smiled as he leaned in to whisper into your ear, “You’re very warm.” He sounded a little surprised. His deep, gravelly voice making you shiver despite the warmth. 

“Magic, remember?” 

He hummed in response, keeping his arm loosely around your waist as he took you to his village. The tension between you two felt electric. 

—

The ride wasn’t too long, and soon you arrived at the village. It was larger than you had imagined. Busier, but tidier. 

Once you got past the tall, wooden palisades you could see more of the daily activities. Hunters sharpening their weapons, warriors training, children running around. You spotted the vast crops, the rivers. 

There was so much you couldn’t see, but the elements spoke to you. You knew there was a lake here somewhere. The Chief’s hall was beyond the wooden houses which were scattered all over. You knew there were people gathered somewhere near the beach, working on building a new boat. Multiple boats in fact. 

“Welcome to my home.” The Chief whispered as he led you deeper into the village. 

Judging by the relieved smiles on people’s faces as they spotted you, you knew they were aware that you were here to help them. You smiled back to as many as you could on your way to the main area, in the middle of the village. 

The Chief helped you off the horse and when you thanked him he said, “You can call me Bucky. All my friends do.” 

You gave me a smile, “Alright, Bucky.” 

He nodded, then pointed at a wooden house, not far from his residence, and said, “I hope you’ll be comfortable here.” 

One of the ladies was beside you immediately, saying she wanted to help you get settled in. So with one last glance at Bucky, you made your way to your new, temporary home. 

–

The moment he walked into his home, sighing in relief at the feeling of warmth, his two best friends rushed in after him, grinning like they were up to no good. Bucky rolled his eyes at Sam and Steve as he poured wine into three cups. 

“What?” He barked at them, handing them their cups before he sat on one of the few stairs that led to his seat. The one he sat on when he had to act as Chief. But when he was with his friends, he didn’t like sitting on it. 

“Are we going to address the heated looks you and the witch have been sharing or are we going to pretend nothing’s happening here?” Sam teased, leaning against a nearby table. 

Steve chuckled, sitting down near the fire in the middle of the room. “Yeah Chief, what’s going on?” 

Bucky glared at them both. He loved them to death, would die and kill for them in a heartbeat. But gods, they could be so annoying. “Enough,” He grumbled as they both laughed shamelessly at him, “She’s our guest. Most of all, we need her to survive this winter. Be respectful.” 

Sam smirked and said, “Is that what that was on the ride back? The two of you as close as lovers? Was that you being respectful?” 

Steve’s laughter echoed around the hall. Bucky wanted to chuck his cup at both of them but he didn’t want to waste the wine so he just rolled his eyes again, “Get out both of you.” 

“Oh come on, Buck.” Steve spoke up, “With her as your wife we would be unstoppable.” 

Sam nodded, “Exactly.” 

“Both of you, shut up.” 

“I mean, she is beautiful. If you’re not interested, I might check out what else her magic can do when-,” Steve stopped talking the moment Bucky threw his cup at him, wine and all. 

Sam choked on his drink and laughed even harder. 

Shortly after, Bucky kicked both of them out of his home. He was surprised at how it suddenly got hard to breathe or think the moment Steve even jokingly hinted at getting intimate with you. Bucky felt so protective over you despite having met you just hours ago. 

He just wished he could keep that under control for the coming months. You were his guest after all. He couldn’t be inappropriate. 

— 

He couldn’t sleep that night. The village was quiet, dark. The night was cold given winter was approaching really fast. The next day, he had plans to give you a tour of the village and thinking about spending hours with you was making him nervous. But in a good way. Gods, he was turning into a little boy with a crush. This was bad for his image. 

He couldn’t sleep, so he figured a walk might tire him out. So he layered up in his favourite furs, grabbed a torch and stepped outside. It was dark, save for the moonlight. And also light coming from your temporary home. 

Bucky was walking towards the wooden house before he even realised it. His hand was knocking against the door before he could talk himself out of it. He should let you rest. He should act like a grown up and walk away right now. Being Chief he should– 

He stopped functioning the moment you opened the door and looked up at him. Dressed in a beige night dress, a woollen blanket wrapped around your shoulders, and the dimmed light of the torches made you look ethereal just standing there at the door. 

You spoke first, “Bucky.” You didn’t sound surprised. You knew he was coming over the moment he stepped out of his home. “It’s rather late, is something wrong?” You couldn’t help but ask. You knew he was coming over, but you didn’t know why. Your magic, fortunately, didn’t allow you to read minds. 

Bucky placed the torch on the sconce by the door and cleared his throat, standing proud and tall like one would expect him to. “I saw your lights were still on. I couldn’t help but worry so I… uh, came to check.” He paused, awkwardly. “Do you… are you comfortable? Do you need anything?” 

You sensed his slight nervousness even without using your magic. You tilted your head to the side and smiled at him, “I’m very comfortable. Your people were kind enough to–” You stopped, noticing how foggy his breaths were, “Please come in,” You opened the door wider, “It’s cold out.” 

Bucky accepted the invitation. As soon as he stepped in, you placed your hand on his chest. Bucky blinked and in the fraction of a second, he felt comfortably warm. He gave you a thankful smile. 

You smirked playfully and whispered, “Magic.” Then you moved towards the makeshift kitchen, “Tea?” 

Bucky grimaced and said, “I don’t like that bitter stuff.” He mumbled, avoiding eye contact. 

You chuckled, “I bet you will like this one.” You went ahead and made him chamomile tea, with warm milk and a generous dollop of honey. 

By the time you brought the mug to him, you found him bent over your little desk. He was looking down at the map you were currently making, your special black ink on special parchment paper. 

Bucky whispered his thanks as he took the mug, then said, “You’re making a map of the village?” He sounded both amazed and confused. “No one has been able to make one this accurate. You haven’t even… “ He paused, “Of course,” He smirked, “Magic.” 

You smiled. “Maps help me control my spells better. It’s enchanted parchment you see,” You pointed at the map, “I can even work from here with the help of the map.” You looked back up at him and saw the look of delight on his face as he took his first sip of the tea. 

He raised an eyebrow at you, “You laced this with magic as well?” 

You giggled, “No, just milk and honey.” 

Bucky just stared at you with soft eyes. In the dim, golden lights his eyes twinkled like that of a wolf. You stared into them, neither of you spoke. Until he finally blinked, pointed at the map and said, “It must be incredible, being this talented.” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle in a self-deprecating way. “Talent.” You repeated, looking down at the map. Then quietly said, “I was always taught and told that my magic was a great weapon. But thank you, I guess.” 

Without another word said, Bucky placed his half empty mug down and grabbed both of your hands in his large, warm ones. He tugged you closer, gently. Just the slightest bit so he could have your undivided attention. 

“You’re not a weapon. You won’t ever be one, not here.” He said, softly. Slowly. “You are our salvation.” 

You had been repaid in many ways throughout your life. Chests filled with gold. Jewels. Feasts and balls thrown in your name. Even a few marriage proposals from influential families. But no one had ever told you that you were their salvation. Something about Bucky saying it, even before you got him and his people through the winter, made you tear up just a little. 

His face softened as he wiped that tear away from your cheek with his slightly cold metal arm. “I mean it.” He whispered. Then he leaned in and kissed you on the cheek, whispering, “You are so beautiful.” Then a little closer to your mouth. “So warm.” Then finally pressed his lips against yours as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer and pressing you against the soft furs he was wearing. 

You couldn’t help but moan quietly into the kiss. That made him growl, made him deepen the kiss. His warm hand cradled your face as his metal arm wrapped around your waist. His lips were surprisingly soft, and his kiss was gentle. Sensual. Your hands wandered over his chest. You could feel his heart racing. You could feel him breathing deeper, but refusing to break the kiss. 

You gasped in pleasure when his mouth left your lips briefly to kiss along your jaw, making your heart flutter in anticipation. But then, he stopped and pulled away. He was breathless, frowning, his lips wet and pink. 

“I… I shouldn’t.” He licked his lips and you almost moaned again. “You’re…” He took a deep breath. “You’re my guest. And you only just got here.” He shook his head, as if disappointed in himself. “I shouldn’t have pounced on you like an animal like that.” 

You fixed the blanket around your shoulders, giving him a playful, though disappointed, smile. “I’ve heard a lot of things about you, but no one even mentioned you were such a proper gentleman.” 

Bucky cleared his throat, then gave you a heated look that screamed that if he didn’t get out of here right this instant he would surely be pouncing on you again. “I should go.” He mumbled. “Thank you for the tea.” 

You nodded, “You’re very welcome. I will see you tomorrow, for the tour?” 

He nodded. Then as he turned to leave, he paused. He turned back around and unwrapped the thick white fur from around his shoulders and placed it on your desk. The tunic he wore was loose around his neck so you could see the ink on his skin peaking through. “Keep this,” He said, “you might need it for tomorrow.” 

You smirked, understanding what he was playing at. He knew you could keep yourself warm. But he just wanted you to wear something of his while he showed you around tomorrow. He wanted everyone to see you wearing something of his. You had heard of vikings being territorial, and truthfully, you didn’t mind this one bit. 

You played along, pretending to be oblivious. “Won’t you be cold then?” 

As he stepped out of the door, he turned to look at you. Smirked and said, “I think your magic will keep me warm enough.” 

You chuckled as he shut the door behind him, took his torch and left. Who knew the Chief would be such a flirt? 

— 

Bucky had never been this excited to give someone a tour of his village. He was at your door the next morning, early and ready. He knew you already had a map, but he wanted you to see the place properly. 

You caught the approval in his smile when he saw you wearing the fur he left you as you stepped out to join him. He was wearing black furs, and looked just as majestic. 

“My people are delighted that you’re here to save us from the winter,” He said as the two of you began walking towards the centre of the village, the busiest part he told you. “So expect a lot of gifts along the way.” 

You didn’t know what to expect. And even after politely refusing many, many tokens of thanks from his people, you already had baskets filled with cheese, berries, fresh bread and you were even done with the tour yet. Bucky, of course, carried the baskets for you. 

He was in a good mood, you realised. He was showing off a little as he gave you the tour. Showing you all the new warehouses, the new boats that were being built near the beaches, the new houses being made as the number of people grew. 

He showed you the hall where himself, Steve, and Sam often trained young kids. They taught them how to fight, to defend. They’re vikings, they need to be ready, he said, for anything and everything. 

He had a glow on his face as he spoke about the kids, and you couldn’t help but ask, “How come you don’t have any?” 

Bucky gave you a faint smile. Then said, “After my father died, I had to take care of everything around here. And I guess I never had time.” He paused, “I also never found the right person.” 

You turned to look at him and he was looking the other way, surely hiding a smirk. You decided to drop the subject. 

Bucky led you deeper into the village, near the lake. “It looks incredible in the summer, but–,” He stopped talking once the two of you heard male voices shouting. It sounded like it was coming from the lake. 

You followed Bucky as he rushed to the lakeside and let out a groan. You chuckled once you saw what he was looking at. His two friends, Steve and Sam, arguing in the water about who pushed who first. 

Bucky sighed and said, “I apologise, I wish these two would act like adults.” Then he yelled at them, “Hey! Stop trying to make me look bad. And get out of the water both of you, I can’t have you both freeze to death!” 

You watched how the two of them swam towards the shore and eventually got out, trembling. 

“Gods, I hate you.” Sam said, shivering. 

“You pushed me!” Steve argued, shoving Sam. 

Sam shoved him back, “You pushed me!” 

“Enough!” Bucky turned to you and said, “My useless friends,” He introduced, “I wish you would’ve met them in more normal circumstances.” 

You laughed, then walked up to the two men. “Hello,” You said and placed your hands on each of their shoulders, your magic would keep them from shivering. And the moment you touched them, they both sighed in relief. “There, that should keep you warm until you get home.” 

You couldn’t help but check them out. They were both muscular and fit, and the way the wet tunics clung to their bodies… their muscular torsos, and biceps bigger than– 

Bucky cleared his throat and you quickly looked away. You were almost certain Sam and Steve were smirking as they mumbled their goodbyes and hurried home. 

“We should get back.” Bucky said, his mood immediately turning sour. 

When the two of you did head back, he walked you to your home, handed you your baskets full of food and gifts, whispered a brief goodbye and left. You had planned that you would ask him to join you for dinner, as a way of thanking him for the tour. But he was just so grumpy on the way back that you decided not to. 

But then you were restless the whole evening. You made yourself a quick dinner and sat by the fire to read but something didn’t feel right. 

As it got later, the village got more and more quiet. And dark. When the wolves began howling you knew it was very late, but as you looked through the window, you saw that the lights inside Bucky’s home were still lit. 

He was awake. 

You debated walking over to his place, but then decided not to. You had to get to work the next day and surely you’d get a chance to talk to him then. 

—

You visited the crops first, drawing your runes in the dirt. That’s where you ran into Steve and Sam. They wished to introduce themselves properly, and the three of you began talking. They showed you around for a little while, making you laugh at their jokes and stories of their childhood. 

They kept you company while you worked and at some point, you sensed that someone was watching you. You knew who it was before you even turned around. 

There was Bucky standing, proud and tall, quite far from the crops. The same broody expression on his face as the day before. 

You almost lifted your hand to wave at him but then he walked away. 

“We better leave,” Steve said with a mischievous smile. 

“I’m afraid if the Chief sees us around you again he might behead us in public.” Sam winked at you and then walked away. 

So Bucky was jealous. 

After you were done with the crops, as you made your way home in the afternoon, you ran in Bucky in the village centre. He was on his way home as well, you realised, so you walked a little faster until you caught up to him. 

Once you were beside him, you said, “Hello, Bucky.” 

“Hello.” He mumbled. 

“I worked at the crops today, I drew my runes.” You told him. 

“I know, I saw you earlier.” He said.

His voice held enough distaste that you couldn’t help but ask calmly, “Why are you angry at me?” 

He threw you a look and mumbled grumpily, “I’m not angry. I’m very grateful that you’re here.” 

"Then why won't you talk to me?" You asked. "You look like you're angry." You paused, then asked, "Is it because I was talking to your friends?" 

He stopped walking immediately. Turned to face you and said, "What were the three of you talking about anyway?" 

You had to hide a smirk as you answered, "Nothing in particular. They were just keeping me company." Seeing he still had that broody look on his face you asked, “Does that bother you?” 

He scoffed. "No." He frowned. "Why would it? You're free to talk to whoever you want, you're our–" 

You cut him off, "Guest, yes. I know." You smiled. "Well then, how would you like to have dinner with me tonight?" 

Bucky's bright blue eyes stared at you, an unexplainable expression in them. "Another time." He said much to your surprise. 

The rest of the walk back was filled with awkward silence. 

That night, you were restless. After a quick dinner, you sat by the fire to read but you couldn’t quite get into it. Then you got up and looked through the window and saw that the lights in Bucky’s home were still on. 

Again. He was awake. This time you didn’t think twice before putting your cloak on and walking to his front door. It was so quiet that you could hear the knocks echoing. Two knocks later, Bucky opened the door. 

His braids were undone, yet he looked just as handsome. “It’s late.” He said. 

“Also very cold, you should let me in.” You said. 

Bucky opened the door wider, letting you in before shutting the door. 

You walked into his home and took it all in. The place smelled like him, and a little smoky. Probably due to the fire that burned in the middle, keeping the place nice and warm. You saw his seat. His swords and weapons hung on the walls, along with artworks. Furs and rugs scattered on the floor, the place was cosy. 

“Nice place.” You commented as you turned to face him. You found him leaning against a nearby wooden column, with a drink in hand. 

He gave you a curious look. “Surely you didn’t walk all the way here to comment on my home.” He said. He looked good. The dim light from the torches made him look like a god. Long brown hair, pretty blue eyes. His tunic was loose now, showing a lot of the ink on his skin. His metal arm caught the light a few times, shining occasionally when he moved. 

You felt your heartbeats echoing louder in your ears the more you looked at him. And then… then he had the audacity to slowly lick his lips. 

That did it. You walked up to him, carefully took the cup from his hand and brought it to your lips. You held his stare the whole time. You took a careful sip because whatever it was, it was very strong. Then said, “No, no I didn’t.” 

Bucky gave you a heated look. One that was familiar from the other night when he kissed you. “You know, it’s rude to snatch someone’s drink. Especially the Chief's.” 

You smirked at him. “Do something about it then,” You added mischievously, “Chief.” 

“Oh?” Bucky’s metal arm was around your waist in no time, pulling you into his warm, muscular chest. “Now you want my attention?” He taunted, his voice deep, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the smirk on your lips. “What about when you were shamelessly staring at other men right in front of me? Or what about earlier, when you were–” 

You cut him off with a chuckle. “Just say you are jealous.” You took another sip from his drink. “And if this is how you treat your guests then I think I can imagine why everyone fears you.” 

“I’m not jealous,” He mumbled, nuzzling your cheek. “I just don’t like seeing you with other men.”

You gasped, and almost dropped the cup in surprise as he kissed along your jaw softly, biting you playfully while he’s at it. “So possessive,” You whispered, “We only just met.” You teased. 

His grip tightened around your waist before he pulled away to look at you. His blue eyes now dark with desire and longing. “Yet I haven’t been able to think about anything other than wanting to have you all to myself ever since I kissed you that night.” He said. 

He looked down at your mouth as he spoke, and it only made your heart race faster. “Bucky…” You weren’t sure what you wanted to say to him, you just… wanted. “Please.” You found yourself whispering. Pleading, which you had never done before. 

Bucky clenched his jaw and turned, pressing your back into the wooden column he was leaning against earlier. The cup fell to the floor, neither of you paying much attention to it. His metal hand cupped your face and he stared into your eyes as he spoke. 

His voice was dangerously low as he spoke, “You must understand, if we do this there’s no going back.” He said, looking down at your parted lips. “If we do this, you’re mine.” He reiterated, “If we do this,” He leaned in to brush his soft lips carefully against yours, making you gasp and whimper, “You belong to me and only me. Are we clear?” 

The rasp in his voice and the feral desire lacing his words already made your brain foggy. “Yes,” You whispered, placing the palms of your hands pressing against his warm chest and partially exposed skin. 

He wasted no time in undoing your cloak and letting it fall to the floor and pool around your ankles. Bucky had a devilish smile on his face once he saw that you were wearing nothing beneath the cloak except for flimsy undergarments. Near transparent ones. 

Bucky’s eager hand trailed up your body, gently, starting from your thigh all the way to your breasts. The warmth of his hand made you shiver in pleasure. “So this is why you were complaining about being cold?” He whispered in your ear while his hand ran up and down your sides. “I thought you could manipulate elements to keep yourself warm.” Your body felt like it was on fire under his touch. 

“Well, I can manipulate the elements.” You said. Bucky pulled away to look into your eyes. “But there’s nothing quite like body heat.” He smirked at the sight of the look of mischief in your eyes. 

Then he gently tugged on the delicate necklace around your neck, toying with the crystal pendant leisurely as if he had all the time in the world. As if he couldn’t see you squirming under his touch, wanting more. 

“It’s…” He frowned at the crystal, now holding it between two metal fingers. “It’s moving.” He whispered, and sounded so genuinely confused that it made you smile. Who knew this tall, muscular, godlike man could be adorable? 

You nodded, looking at the crystal. It was clear mostly, except for a greyish, dark, flowy mist moving around inside it. It looked like smoke trapped inside the crystal, but it was just energy. “I was given this by my family the day I left my home when I was a young girl. As a gift. For protection.” You explained. 

You looked up to find him looking down at you with a heated, wild look in his eyes. “I’m here now,” He said. “I’ll protect you. Always.” He pulled you closer, pressing your barely clothed body against him. 

You smiled, sliding your hands up until your fingers slid into his soft hair. The light from the burning torches began to dim, making the room slightly darker but still golden. The smirk on Bucky’s handsome face signalled that he knew you were messing with the torches. 

“I want you,” You whispered, pressing your lips to his cheek. The slight stubble felt rough against your mouth. But it only made you wonder where else it would feel rough. And you couldn’t help the quiet moan that escaped your mouth. 

As if he could read your mind, Bucky chuckled. He grabbed you by the neck, tightening his grip just a little, enough to make you feel warm all over. “I don’t think I could be gentle…” He whispered, his metal hand reaching for the fine dagger he kept on him at all times. 

He carefully pressed the tip flat against your lower lip. Your heart began racing faster. Bucky slowly dragged the tip of the dagged down your chin, down the side of your neck, down in between your breasts before he cut the fabric, slicing it in two and letting that fall down to the floor as well. You hissed as the cold air hit your now exposed breasts. Bucky seemed pleased as he let go of your neck, his hand trailing down to fondle with your breast instead. You tipped your head back and moaned at his touch. 

He kept the dagger pressed against your skin as he leaned in to kiss your exposed neck, “I don’t want to be gentle.” He said. 

You let out a gasp as he slid the tip of the dagger sideways, circling your nipple with it deliberately slow. “Good,” You whispered, “I don’t want you to be gentle.” 

Bucky chuckled. “Oh, you’re perfect.” He dragged the tip of the dagger down, sliding it slowly across your abdomen, right above the waistband of your undergarments. Over and over again until you were squirming, and gasping, and grinding on nothing. 

“Please,” You said, looking at him with soft eyes.

Bucky held your stare as he slid the dagger under the fabric of your undergarment and sliced that off of you as well. Fuck that sound of fabric tearing off of your body did something to you. 

“Please,” You begged again. You were unable to ignore the wetness in between your legs anymore. Neither could he. 

Once there was not an inch of fabric shielding you from his hungry stare, Bucky threw the dagger onto the pile of your clothes and next thing you knew, you were being pushed down onto a nearby pile of soft furs. 

He pinned you down by your throat, as he hovered above you, leaning over with his metal hand wrapped around your neck firmly while he stared down into your eyes. “You look so beautiful like this.” 

You gave him a smirk and said, “It’s your turn. I want to see you.” You wanted to see the ink on his skin, trace it with your finger. You wanted to see him naked on these furs with you. You had never longed to touch someone like this before. 

Bucky held your stare, arrogant grin on his face as he pulled away to take off his tunic and lower his pants. 

You let your eyes feast on him. Ink covered more skin than you thought, but it suited him. He looked every bit the fierce Viking he was. You wanted to take your time and admire the artwork on his body but… later. Right now, you wanted him. 

You grabbed him by the neck and pulled him closer, pressing your mouth to his and kissing him deeply. “I want you,” You whispered again. 

“I know, sweetheart,” Bucky’s hand was back around your throat as he growled into the kiss, “I know.” 

Guess he could take his time and caress every inch of you like he wanted to later, right now though, he needed to have you. He was hungry for it. So he pulled away from the kiss, parted your legs and slid a finger inside you, reassuring himself that you were ready for him. 

Bucky groaned when he found that you were dripping for him. “All that for me?” He teased, settling in between your legs and pressing the tip of his cock against you. You gasped and whined as he slid the tip of it up and down your slit. 

“Please,” You begged, whining. “Hurry up or I swear to gods I will make sure your house is always freezing throughout winter.” 

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh, leaning down to press a kiss on your forehead. “No need for all that, little witch.” He whispered as he pushed his cock into you, stretching you out in a way that made it hard for you to even think about anything else. 

“Do I feel good inside you?” He questioned, teasing and knowing full well you weren’t in a headspace to answer him. His hand was around your throat and his cock buried so deep inside of you that he knew you couldn’t even think straight. 

And fuck did he feel good snug inside you. You just whimpered in response, staring up into his pretty blue eyes. “More,” You whispered, “I want more.” 

He smirked, digging his knees into the furs before he pulled out and pushed back into you. He set a hard and fast pace that made your head spin with pleasure. He was just as passionate as you expected him to be, his kisses were messy and his grip on your body was tight. He growled and moaned against your mouth as he sped up into you. 

You were a moaning mess under him. Your legs locked around his waist as he pounded into you, “You feel so good,” He said, “Look at you, all wet and open for me.” He slowed down for just a moment, looking down to where his cock disappeared into you each time he thrust it. “Is this what you wanted? Hmm?” He asked, slow fucking you until you felt a tear escape your eye. 

Fuck, he was keeping you right on that edge. It drove you mad. 

“Tell me, sweetheart.” He kissed along your jaw, nibbling on your skin. “When you walked all the way here tonight, wearing basically nothing as you knocked on my door in the middle of the night,” He chuckled, “Is this what you wanted? To be full of my cock?” 

You nodded, more tears falling down. It was so good, almost overwhelming. His words, his deep voice, the heated look in his eyes as he fucked you slowly, his weight on top of you, his warmth… 

“Yes,” You whispered, “It’s all I wanted.” 

Bucky sped up again, taking you by surprise and you couldn’t help the sinful moans that escaped your lips. He released your throat and placed his hand on your abdomen instead, pressing down on your front so he can feel himself inside you with each thrust. “Well there you go,” He said, as if taunting you, “Here I am. Deep inside you.” He stared into your eyes while he sped up into you again. “Just how you wanted.” 

You whimpered desperately as he fucked you deeper. You felt your walls clenching around him. You felt the familiar feeling, the pressure down there just waiting… waiting to explode. Your back arched off the furs as he brought you right to the edge again before slowing down. It was brutal.  

You gasped in shock, and the now ruined orgasm. Bucky smirked. “That’s punishment,” He said, “For talking to other men right in front of me.” 

You frowned, “You’re cruel.” 

Bucky kissed you one more time before he flipped you around and pulled you onto your knees and pushed into you again from behind. You moaned out loud, not expecting that but welcoming the feeling of being full again. 

You laid your cheek down on the furs, the softness of them a stark contrast to how rough Bucky was being, handling your body like you were just a toy. It made you smile in pure bliss as he gripped your hips and slammed in and out of you incessantly, sighing and groaning in the process. 

More tears escaped your eyes as the pleasure became too much to handle. You felt the pressure at your core forming again as Bucky pounded into you mercilessly, fucking you like an animal. Bending and contorting your body however he liked. Pressing your head down as he sped up into you until you came, crying out loud and clenching around him so hard it took him everything not to finish inside you. 

He quickly pulled out and came all over your lower back and thighs. He took a moment to admire all the marks he’d left on your skin before pulling you into his arms as he laid down beside you. 

You placed your ear right above his heart, listening to it gradually calm down like yours did. Only then did you have enough energy to keep your eyes open and admire the ink on his skin. You traced the closest one with a finger. 

“A dragon?” You asked. 

Bucky chuckled softly. “I like to think they might have been real at some point.” 

You pulled away, holding yourself up using your elbow. You looked down at Bucky and said, “Of course they were. They were magical beings, they got along well with witches and warlocks in fact.” 

Bucky looked pleasantly surprised. “You are so full of secrets.” He said, lifting a finger up to your face and gently traced the shape of your mouth. “Tell me more,” He pulled you back into his arms, nuzzling your neck and making you laugh, “What happened to the dragons?” 

— 

Sleeping in each other’s beds became part of the routine. 

Some nights he would come over after the village had gone dark and quiet. Other nights you’d go over to his place and stay till early morning. 

Nobody knew about you and Bucky, except for Steve and Sam who couldn’t stop grinning like mischievous devils each time they ran into you. 

Days passed this way. The weather got colder, and you kept the village in perfect shape. The rivers kept flowing even though they should be frozen. The lake as well. The crops stayed healthy. As did the cattle.

Your magic had created an invisible dome over the entirety of the village. A vast dome that only you could see. 

The people were safe from the intense cold and they were warm, fed, and happy. 

But doing all that always made you extremely tired. Usually you’d hide it well behind faint smiles and blame it on it being a long day. But even at night you had to use your magic to keep the dome intact. And although you did your best to hide it, sometimes your weariness would show. 

Like the one time when Bucky caught you by the lakeside late at night. 

You were sitting on the jetty, looking down at the dark water. The moonlight made the surface shine, and just beyond the lake, right where the dome ended, you could see the harsh winds of the blizzard that you were currently keeping away from Bucky’s people. But from within the dome, no one could even hear it. 

And just when you thought of Bucky, you heard him walking on the jetty and on his way to you. 

“I looked for you everywhere.” He said, sitting down next to you on the edge. “Are you alright? You never come here this late.” He sounded genuinely concerned. 

You smiled at him, his pretty face glowing under the moonlight. Then you pointed at the blizzard, and Bucky swore under his breath when he saw what was happening beyond the dome, “I came to make sure everything was safe.” You said. “I had to draw some of the runes again.” Then you added, “Everything’s fine, don’t worry.” 

Bucky loosened the furs around his shoulders and opened his arms for you to snuggle up to him. 

You gave him a smirk as you slowly scooted closer to him, “I can keep myself warm, remember?” 

“Yeah, but there’s nothing quite like body heat.” He teased, wrapping his arms and the furs around you, holding you close to him. He leaned down and kissed your cheek softly then said, “You seem tired. I didn’t realise magic would take such a toll on you.” He sounded a little embarrassed. 

“Hey,” You placed a gentle hand on his rough cheek. “This is how it is. Magic has a cost, it feeds on my energy and that’s just how it works. I should be okay after a few hours of sleep.” You smiled up at him. “Can I ask about the arm?” 

He smiled, tapped you on the nose with his metal finger and said, “Bravery has a cost, my lady.” You laughed, and he eventually told you the story. And by the time he was done, he noticed you were just about to fall asleep. “Hey, come on. Let’s go to bed.” 

You let him help you stand up and said, “I’m tired tonight, maybe–,” 

He cut you off. “That’s not what I meant.” He pulled you closer and kissed you gently, “I won’t do anything, I just want you in bed with me. You’re doing so much for us, let me take care of you and do what I can.” He added, pressing another kiss on your lips, “Please.” 

You smiled and gave in. 

And turns out, sleeping in his bed, in his arms was enough to recharge you. 

— 

One day, a messenger came with urgent news for Bucky. 

A little far from this village was another one, and the news said that their Chief had died leaving behind no one to care for the people. Since Bucky was the closest, they were begging him to help them last this icy winter. 

Bucky held a meeting with his inner circle – his friends, and now you as well. Everyone gathered near the fire in the middle of Bucky’s home. Outside, the weather was getting colder. Your magic kept everyone here comfortable but those people who had asked for help… they wouldn’t last long. 

“We can’t help them.” Bucky said, surprising everyone in the room. 

Tony, the one who created weapons for every warrior in the village and also part of Bucky’s inner circle, spoke up first, “What do you mean here, Chief? Those people will die.” 

Steve nodded, agreeing, “There are children, cold and starving. We can’t leave them.” 

“Think about it,” Sam said, “We could have more people in our army to fight for us, with us.” 

Bucky stopped his slow pacing, then turned to all of you. “How are we going to care for these people? I mean, I guess we’ll have enough food for everyone but what about shelter?” 

Peter, Tony’s apprentice, spoke up this time, “We have enough material to build houses. I mean, we could always pause on the boats for now and use those materials for houses. You’ll have to go bring the people over anyway, and by the time you’ll be back I suppose we could have houses ready by then.” He looked over to Tony for approval. The latter nodded in agreement. 

“That will cost too much.” Bucky said. Then sighed. “I have to care for the people here.” 

You spoke up this time, “I could help.” You said. “I have more gold than I could ever use. And I could help with the building, and–,” 

Bucky cut you off gently, “No, I cannot ask you for all that. You’re already helping us, and this wasn’t part of our arrangement.” He paused for a moment, only the crackling logs filled the silence, “Besides, I’ve seen what using magic constantly does to you.” 

You rolled your eyes, “That’s just how it works,” You repeated. “It’s like when you complain about being tired after a whole day of training. Doesn’t mean you won’t ever train again.” You reasoned. “And as for our arrangement, I agreed to help. So let me.” 

Bucky sighed again, walking over to you as if the rest of the people in the room didn’t exist. Honestly, the moment you stared into his clear blue eyes, it didn’t matter who else was in the room. 

“It’ll wear you out.” He said softly, almost in a whisper. 

You gave him a faint smile, “Guess you’ll just have to take better care of me then.” 

He was about to reach out and cup your face in his hands but then Steve, Sam, and Tony all cleared their throats to get your attention back on the current issue. You avoided all their eyes awkwardly while Bucky smirked shamelessly. Peter just seemed confused. 

“Fine,” Bucky said. “We’ll bring the people. We’ll take the boats.” He announced. “We leave today itself.” Then he proceeded to assign the work of building additional houses over to Tony and Peter. Sam and Steve, along with other warriors, were going with Bucky. 

Then the men left, Tony and Peter went to gather people to help them start building immediately and Sam and Steve went to get the other warriors to prepare for their journey. Once they were out of the house, Bucky pulled you close. 

“That was generous of you.” He said, nuzzling your neck and kissing it. “I’ll be gone for two weeks at least, you know?” He said. “I’ll miss you.” His lips brushed along your neck, stopping at the corner of your mouth, “I’ll miss this.” His arms tightened around you, making you gasp. 

“I’ll miss you too,” You said, pulling away to look at him. “The sea will be rough,” You said, “Take this.” You took the crystal necklace off of your neck and put it around his, hiding it under the layers he wore. “That should keep you safe.” Then you looked around and said, “You should start packing your things. My magic won’t work given the distance so you’ll need more furs to keep you warm.” 

He looked at you with soft eyes. “Usually no one fusses over me like this.” He said, “I like it. I like it a lot.” 

You smiled and gave him a quick kiss. “Now hurry up. Those people need you.” 

“Hmm,” He leaned down for a kiss again. “If anyone touches you while I’m gone I will behead them.” He said, half-joking. “One more thing, I want you to stay here while I’m gone.” He said, referring to his house. “Sleep in my bed every night. Oh and think of me. Miss me. A lot.” 

You laughed. “Understood, Chief.” 

— 

You went to see Bucky off when he left later that evening. He looked like a King and his armada, setting off for battle. 

He was barely out of your sight and you missed him already. You whispered a prayer to the strong winter winds, telling them to keep him safe until he comes back. 

—

For the entirety of the two weeks which followed, you worked harder than ever. The dome, the crops, the cattle, the rivers and lake, and now the construction. Your magic fortified the wood used for the new houses, all the gold you had accumulated over the years helped the village immensely. 

The people were so grateful. And you did your best to keep their spirits up while their Chief was gone. 

It made you feel all warm inside whenever people would gush about how incredible of a leader Bucky was. You wondered if he knew his people loved him so much. Then, almost always, quickly followed by that warm fuzzy feeling was intense worry. 

You never had anyone to worry about this much. So this was new for you. 

By the end of the second week, each morning you’d wake up and go by the beach to see if you could see the ships coming. They didn’t. 

You slept in his bed like he wanted you to. And that just made things worse. Because now not only did you worry about him, but you missed him like a mad woman. His scent was all over the bed and the covers. 

But then one morning, as you went to the beach to check, you saw them. The ships, tiny little dots near the horizon. They were coming back. He was coming back. 

Great timing in fact because the houses were just done building as well. And the crops had just been harvested. 

Some hours later, the ships docked. And the new people had arrived, with their entire lives packed into trunks. While everyone showed the new ones to their houses, you looked for Bucky. You couldn’t even hide the smile on your face as you spotted him, running to him. 

Bucky smiled as you ran into his open arms, hugging him tightly. You didn’t see the approving smiles on the faces of people around you, all you cared about was that Bucky was here, safely. 

“Hello to you too, sweetheart,” He whispered, kissing your forehead. “I’ve missed you.” 

You pulled away to look up at him. “You’re back.” You whispered, delighted. 

He cupped your face and leaned down to press his forehead against yours, sighing. “I wish I could take you to bed and show you how much I missed you, but…” 

“Later,” You finished his sentence. “There’s a lot of work to be done right now.” 

He nodded. Then you felt something moving near your ankles, getting tangled up in your flowy cloak. You looked down and saw a small ball of white fur. Bucky chuckled as you bent down to pick it up. 

“The mother and the rest of the litter didn’t survive the cold,” He said, “But I found this little guy as we were evacuating the village. He was hiding under a pile of hay, all hungry and trembling. And I thought, who else would take better care of him than a certain generous witch I know?” He explained, a little flustered, ”So I brought him along. For you.”  

You looked at the fluffy, white wolf pup in your hands. You already loved him with all your heart. Then you looked up at Bucky again, “Thank you. I love him.” You said, kissing him on the cheek, “And thank you for not leaving him behind.” 

He smiled, “Oh well,” He looked around to see his people helping their new guests get off the boats, offering to carry their luggage for them. He looked beyond proud. “What’s one more addition to our village?” He shrugged, smiling at you. 

–

It took some hours, but by nightfall everyone had a bed to sleep in and roof over their heads. Bucky was so pleased he insisted they celebrated this feat. Plus he wanted the new members to feel welcomed and comfortable so he held a feast. 

Food and ale makes everyone feel at home, he said. 

So the feast was held. The village centre quickly became a vibrant, bustling scene. And the music was the best part. You had travelled to so many places but you had never heard such rich music and singing. 

As you walked around, enjoying the atmosphere, everyone thanked you for your help. Usually by this time well into winter, food was always scarce. But with you and your magic here, everyone was happy and their bellies were full. 

You caught Bucky’s stare from across the crowds of people a lot of times. His heated stare that held promises which made your face feel all hot and made your body tingle. But he was busy catching up with his people right now, he made sure to speak with each and everyone of the new members of his village, he spoke with the kids and promised them that they would be restarting training soon. He even held some of the babies that had been born while he was away. 

And you watched him with fondness. Watched how he smiled, watched how he let the kids mess with and admire his metal arm, watched how gentle and kind he could be, as well as how stern and assertive. 

And then he caught you staring. He smirked at you while you pretended that your entire being didn’t come alive under his attention. You tried to hide the way you clenched your thighs together as he began walking over to you, finally. 

The music rose to a crescendo as he made his way to you. Tall, strong, with a confident and slightly arrogant gait. He stopped when he was right in front of you, the lit torches made his skin look golden, and his eyes… oh his eyes. 

His metal head reached out to touch your face, slowly caressing your warm cheek. “Did you get a chance to eat?” He asked. 

You nodded, lost in his eyes. You didn’t even remember what you ate, if he asked you you wouldn’t know. 

“Good. Then let’s go.” There was enough raw desire in his voice that it made you move immediately. 

As you walked you asked, “Won’t they notice you’re gone?” You referred to the ongoing festivities. 

Bucky smirked as he took your hand in his, the two of you making your way through the dark, to his place. “Judging by the way you threw yourself into my arms earlier, I think they expected us both to disappear at some point.” 

After the short walk, you could still hear the music from the feast even after making your way into Bucky’s home. You could hear some vocalising, and it sounded… magical. Raw. Intense. Much like the look in Bucky’s eyes. 

“I see you did sleep here.” He noted, appreciating that you did as he’d asked. 

You took your cloak off near the fire and then followed Bucky into the sleeping area. “It was the closest I could get to you while you were gone.” You whispered, taking the layers of fur off of him. You carefully placed it down and began undoing his tunic. “Your bed smells like you.” You said, “Some nights I couldn’t sleep until I made myself come while pretending it was your hand touching me.” 

A sound resembling a growl left his mouth as he grabbed both of your wrists in one hand, ceasing your movement. “Show me.” He said, low and deep, “Show me what I missed.” 

A sly smirk formed on your lips, “Sure you don’t want to do it yourself?” 

He shook his head. “I want to see.” 

You turned and gave him your back, “Undress me then.” You expected him to undo the laces and buttons. But no. You felt something cold against the nape of your neck, and then the sound of fabric being ripped filled the room. 

You gasped in pleasant surprise. He’d torn your dress off instead. With the dagger. You let the ruined dress fall to the ground and faced him again, naked because you hadn’t been wearing any undergarments, “That was one of my favourites.” You said, looking into his lust-drunk, hooded eyes. 

“I don’t care.” He answered, truthfully. Stepping closer he raised the dagger up under your chin, pressing it gently against your skin. “If it were up to me, I’d keep you naked in this bed at all times.” 

You giggled. 

“Hurry up,” He said, “Show me.” His voice was a mere whisper. 

You could still hear the music and the singing in the background as you held his stare and laid down on his soft bed, on your back. He stood at the end of the bed looking down at you like an old god looking at a sacrifice. With hunger in his eyes like you’d never seen before. 

He watched as if in trance, as you bent your knees and spread your legs. His breaths got deeper as he watched how wet you were, your finger slowly sliding up and down your slit. He inched just a little closer as you began gasping and whimpering, your finger slipping in and out of you. 

Your other hand toyed with your nipple, twisting and tugging. You held his dark stare as you moaned, back arching off the bed, the slightly chilly air hit your bare chest and caused your nipples to erect even further. 

“Oh gods…” Bucky whispered, watching as you put on a show. Watching as you whined in pleasure as the pace at which your fingers effortlessly slipped in and out of you increased. You looked down and saw the bulge in his pants. He was barely holding back. 

The way he watched you, the feeling of anticipation knowing he would fill you up soon, all of it made your heart race. Outside, the music rose to a crescendo again and you moaned louder, fingering yourself faster, the palm of your hands rubbing against your sensitive clit over and over again as your middle finger slipped in and out of you. 

You gasped, “Bucky…” You moaned quietly under your breath, imagining it was his fingers that were touching you instead of your own. “I need you…” you mumbled in the haze that you were in, “Please… I need you.” 

He wasted no time in grabbing you by the thighs and dragging you to the edge of the bed as he knelt to the ground. He placed your legs over his shoulders and leaned down to kiss your belly. He was rock hard, barely able to think straight. But fuck he needed to hear you moan as you came. 

“I fucking missed you,” He mumbled as he kissed around where your shaky fingers were buried in your wet cunt. “Let me taste you.” He whispered before gently slipping your fingers out of your hole and into his mouth. He sucked on them like they’d just been dipped in the sweetest honey. 

“Oh fuck…” You moaned, looking at him. The great Chief, kneeling in between your legs, sucking your taste off your fingers… it was heady. “Please,” You murmured again when you noticed that he was teasing you, keeping you waiting on purpose. 

He let go of your fingers, smirking as he looked up at you. “I’ve been wanting to taste you.” He whispered, his warm breath making you squirm. Chuckling at your restlessness, he parted your folds and buried his mouth in between them, eating you out like he was a starving man and moaning at your taste. 

Relentlessly, passionately. His warm mouth wrapped around your clit and sucked on it occasionally. His tongue teased your entrance as he took his time to feast in between your legs. 

Your fingers slid into his hair, it had gotten slightly longer you realised as you grabbed a fistful of it, tugging on it gently as his mouth teased you. 

“So this is what you did, huh? While I was away, rescuing people and fighting rough seas…” His tongue slowly circled around your clit and he earned more and more moans out of you. “You were here, touching yourself.” 

Your legs trembled as he locked his arms around your thighs and pushed your core further into his mouth and made you cry out of pleasure. You whined. “Please, Bucky…” 

He chuckled, darkly. “No.” He pulled away, licking his lips. “Not so easily.” 

He stood up, got rid of all his clothes before climbing into bed with you. His glorious, inked, naked body hovered above yours as he looked down at you with nothing but fondness and desire in his eyes. You looked down, whimpering at the sight of him stroking his hard cock, it was leaking already. 

Bucky looked down at you and smiled before leaning in for a kiss again. He nibbled along your skin, from your mouth to your neck, “Are you ready for me, sweetheart?” 

You cried out, “Yes! Please, Buck–,” 

He cut you off by sliding into you, filling you up. You gasped as your walls welcomed him perfectly and he growled under his breath as he filled you up entirely. “Look at me,” He said. When you did, he smiled and laced your fingers together and pinned both your hands above your head as he sped up into you. “Fuck,” He swore, “You feel like you were made for me.” 

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head once he started rocking in and out of you with your legs locked behind his back. He leaned in and kissed your lips again, groaning and panting against your lips as he fucked you hard and fast. 

The music outside felt like it echoed inside your head. It made your heart race, like a soundtrack to this ethereal union. 

“Tell me you belong to me,” He whispered, lips brushing against yours as his cock stroked your inner walls perfectly. “Tell me you’re mine.” 

“I’m… I’m yours,” You said, breathlessly. 

“That’s right,” He breathed against your mouth. “All fucking mine.” He repeated, kissing along your skin and moaning into your ear, “Fuck, you feel so good.” He said as he sped up again, fucking you nice and deep to show you that you belong to him. “Come for me,” He said, knowing he wouldn’t last too long, “Come on sweetheart, come for me.” 

You cried out as you did, coming undone as he kept pounding into you until he finished inside you. Bucky nuzzled your neck, kissing your skin as he caught his breath. You wrapped your arms around him lazily, feeling his heart racing just as fast as yours was. 

He sighed in bliss as he finally laid down beside you, taking you with him so more than half of your body was on top of his. He kissed the top of your head and whispered, “I missed you like a madman.” 

You smiled, kissing his damp skin as you replied, “I did too. It felt… empty without you.” You lifted your head up to look at him. “Your hair is longer.” You pointed out. 

Bucky chuckled, “You like it?” 

You nodded, “It suits you.” 

He smiled, caressing your cheek again. “I like you in my bed.” He murmured. 

You smirked, lifting yourself up to straddle him properly. You grabbed his semi hard cock and slid it inside you again, gasping as it went in easily. Bucky groaned in pleasure, his hands holding you by the waist, ready to lift you up and down his cock. 

“I really like me in your bed too.” You said, and began riding him until you both came once more.

—

And so, winter passed by. 

You kept everyone safe and warm. Your bond with Bucky was not a secret anymore given you were always seen together. Judging by the smiles on people’s faces when they saw the two of you together, you’d say they were more than happy for Bucky. 

You spent more time in Bucky’s house than the one you were assigned when you first got here that Bucky suggested you move in, and let someone else have the other home. 

“I like having you in my home.” He said one night as he pulled your worn out, bare body into his. He kissed your shoulder, and made sure you were properly warm under the soft furs, in his bed. “Come live with me.” 

So you moved in. 

Your days started and ended with Bucky. With his soft, loving, often demanding touch. His merciless and passionate kisses. And you wouldn’t trade it for anything. 

He was a stern, just, and caring chief to the rest of the village but only you saw the softer side of him. 

The way some evenings he would lay his head in your lap and grumble until you played with his hair until he fell asleep. 

Or how much he loved it when you braided his hair, he’d wear it proudly. 

Or how he always gave you the best bites of food when you dined together. 

The way he would always make sure you had enough fur and blankets on your side of the bed at night. 

Or how he’d always accompany you when you took your little wolf for walks in the woods. 

Or how he’d often tempt you into going for midnight swims with him at the lake. How he’d kiss you under the moonlight, smiling like a lovesick young boy instead of the great chief he was. 

During those moments, you often wanted to freeze time and just stay with him forever. 

Forever… but that wasn’t possible, was it? 

—

The weather, naturally, didn’t stay freezing cold. It got warmer, and warmer as winter faded into a gentle, barely there spring. 

Your little wolf grew, and kept growing. Time, you realised, moved and with it came time to say goodbye. 

Winter was nearly over. Everyone knew, everyone could see it. But nobody said anything. You were still greeted with the same grateful smiles and infinite gifts whenever you stepped out. Steve and Sam never mentioned it, they kept filling your days with stories of their youth and more laughter. 

Bucky, it seemed, had forgotten all about what the end of winter meant. 

And it hurt you more than you thought it would when it came time to confront him about it. It took you two days to build the courage to break both of your hearts. You didn’t want to leave, but you had to, didn’t you? 

He was home early that evening, in a good mood too. As soon as you opened your mouth to say something though, he announced, “I’m going for a swim, come with me?” 

You shook your head. “I don’t feel like it. You go ahead.” 

He smiled, kissed your forehead and left. The sunset as soon as he was out of the door. He’d been going on a lot of swims lately, which again indicated that the weather was getting warmer. 

You waited for him to get back. Your heart breaking in the meantime. 

–

“We need to, um, talk.” You said, once he’d put on clean, dry clothes again. You watched as he dried his hair with a piece of fabric as he turned to face you. 

The buttons of his tunic undone with the tattoos on his chest peeking through, his hair was a damp mess, his blue eyes shining. He was so beautiful. So beautiful it hurt. 

“What about, sweetheart?” He tossed the fabric aside and placed his hands on either side of your waist. “Everything okay?” 

You looked up at him. Didn’t he notice? Couldn’t he see you were wearing the same cloak you wore the day he met you? Couldn’t see you were ready to leave? You spoke with tears in your eyes, “Winter is nearly over, Bucky.” You whispered in a shaky voice. 

Silence. Only the few nearby torches. And the crickets outside. 

Bucky clenched and unclenched his jaw. You could see it through the stubble on his cheeks. “What do you mean?” 

He knew what you meant. You could tell. He was just giving you a chance to rectify what you said. But you didn’t. Instead you said, “Winter is over, it’s time for me to go.” The tears fell. Hot and burning, much like the tension between the two of you even after all these months. 

Bucky was quiet, then he let out a humourless chuckle. “What are you saying? You want to leave me?” 

You sighed as he made this difficult for both of you. “You know what I mean. We had a deal, remember?” You swallowed a sob. “We–,” 

“I swear to gods,” He cut you off, pulling you closer and growling, “Do not fucking test me right now.” 

More tears fell down your face. “Bucky…” You whispered. “I can’t stay here. You know that. It’s what I do, I help people. It’s what I’m meant to do with this…” You sighed, “This magic.” 

“Who said that?” He argued. “Who said you couldn’t choose what made you happy? Who said you had to keep wandering? Huh?” He leaned closer, the tip of his nose touching yours, “Who said you can’t stop once you found a home? A real one?” He gently kissed the corner of your mouth. “You have a home here, you have me. Stay.” 

You breathed in the manly scent of him. Felt the roughness of his stubble against your skin. Felt his body heat. Why couldn’t you stop? Because it scared you. “I can’t.” You mumbled, even as your heart screamed stay, stay, stay. 

Bucky pulled away. His face was stone cold. Emotionless. His hands left your waist and clenched into fists as he stared at you. As Chief, he wasn’t used to people disobeying him. 

“Fine then,” He spoke with a bitter voice. “You want to leave? Then I’ll follow. And my people will follow me no matter where I go.” He spoke with a confidence that only a true leader can have. “So wherever you go, you’ll find me behind you. And a whole village behind me. Is that what you want?” You could hear the stubbornness in his voice, the determination. The promise. 

“You can’t.” You reasoned. “You have a duty here, Bucky. My work here is done, I lifted the dome yesterday and no one even noticed. That just goes to show I’m not needed here. You have a life here,” You said, “Not me.” More tears streamed down your face. Your mind and heart were screaming in contradiction. 

Bucky just stared at you, his heart slowly breaking. Then he said, calmly but fiercely, “I have nothing without you. Nothing.” He stepped closer to you again, “You made me feel alive again, you made me feel like I was more than just a chief, like I was a man again. Just a man who is madly in love with the woman of his dreams.” His words made you weak. “You’re… everything. Don’t leave me.” He pleaded, quietly. 

You couldn’t help but hide your face in his chest as you sobbed. He cradled your head, kissing the top of it. 

“I will send word.” He said, as you sobbed quietly. Your tears drenching his tunic. “People will know where to come find you if they need you.” He reassured you. “Stay with me, be my wife, let’s have children together,” He cupped your face and made you look up at him. His ocean blue eyes staring down loving into yours. “Let’s have a life together.” 

You sniffled. “You’re awfully stubborn.” You said. 

He smiled, his own eyes tearing up. “And you love me for it.” 

You sniffled again. “I do.” You confessed. “I do love you.” 

“And I love you.” He leaned in for a gentle kiss. “Stay with me. You have a home here.” He whispered against your lips. “You’ve helped plenty of people all over this world. It’s not selfish if you choose to settle down now and choose your happiness.” 

“I’m scared.” You admitted. “I’ve never… I don’t know if I can… I mean, I don’t know if–,” 

He cut you off with another loving kiss. “Shh, I’ve got you. We will figure it out. Together.” 

You gave him a faint smile through the tears as you nodded. “Together.” 

And choosing to stay back with him, for him, ended up being the best decision you’d ever made. 

—

Fin.

[philosophybits]

Cold water added to cold water, makes no disturbance. Error added to error causes no jar. Selfishness and selfishness walk together in peace, because they are agreed; but when fire is brought in direct contact with water, when flaming truth grapples with some loathsome error, when the clear and sweet current of benevolence sets against the foul and bitter stream of selfishness, when mercy and humanity confront iron-hearted cruelty, and ignorant brutality, there cannot fail to be agitation and excitement.

Frederick Douglass, "The American Apocalypse (1861)"

[txttletale]

hey not trying to be a shithead but genuinely curious; and not saying it isnt, but what makes honest hearts like super racist? because, okay its been a while but i dont remember it being *that* bad?

am i missing something? (probably)

well, essentially, the whole dlc hinges its plot on its idea of 'tribal' society vs. 'civilized' society. this is like... a distinction with origins in 19th century scientific racism used to argue that indigenous peoples were 'primitive' and 'backwards', a lesser form of life compared to the more developed 'civilized' people. and this is a distinction that is everywhere in all the fallout games, including new vegas (i think it's super fucking racist that the white gloves practice of cannibalism is constantly narratively linked to their 'tribal origins' and described in the terms of a regression or degeneration)--but honest hearts is about it and so it's really inescapable.

joshua sawyer can say whatever he likes about multi-ethnic diverse groups or whatever but the tribes in honest hearts are very clearly inspired by racist stereotypes about native americans--they are naive, gullible morons (follows-chalk can't understand the concept of a casino) at worst and noble savages with (textually) biblical innocence at best. their names, their art, their societies--all just a white guy's idea of "vaguely native american" without any research or care.

and imo worst of all (and this is something im aware the devs have properly acknowledged) they have absolutely no agency--your role in the dlc is to be a "civilized" outsider who tells them which of two white "civilized" mormons to listen to. none of the 'tribals' are able to make their own decisions or lead themselves--they need a mormon missionary to tell them what to do! there is no way to resolve the dlc without picking which white mormon missionary they should listen to other than just murdering everyone indiscriminately.

and, like--i am aware that honest hearts thinks it is gesturing towards a critique of these ideas. you can criticize the paternalism daniel shows towards the sorrows, and the dlc clearly intended it to be criticized--but that criticism is weak and hollow when the only way to follow up on it is to put a different white mormon in charge. it is the most archetypal white saviour narrative possible--and yes, i also know daniel was 'supposed to be asian', but that doesn't change anything because he is in fact, as the "civilized" missionary preaching paternalistically to the "primitive tribals", fundamentally white-coded

so i mean yea it's racist because it relies on racist stereotypes about native americans, mandates that a white person come and take charge of these poor stupid 'tribes'--but even if you changed all that, it's fundamentally about an idea of 'civilization vs. tribal society' that it accepts as a true and meaningful distinction as its core premise, and that is just a straight up racist premise.

(and the reason i keep bringing up that both daniel and josh are mormons is that mormons have a long and storied history of brutal violence and colonialism against indigenous peoples, from their original violent settlement of utah to their 'indian placement program' to their deeply racist scripture, which makes their portrayal as benevolent white saviours particularly galling and repulsive)

[sp4ceboo]

Upon the Sands of the Arena: Feyd-Rautha x Reader

A/N: basically reader fights feyd in the arena, my apologies if there are any inaccuracies, i'm dUmB

tw: 18+, smut YAAA, fighting, swearing, i use fire metaphors too much, blood, violence and death (it's in a a gladiatorial arena ffs), creampie, one ass spank, fingering + oral (f receiveing) hella lot of sexual tension, Fighting as Foreplay, feyd sorta has a blood kink but he's just freaky like that, sort of fluffy at the end, hint of voyeurism if you squint really hard, lmk if there's anything else

wc: 4.1k

part 2

The Bene Gesserit are distracted.

If the Kwisatz Haderach was not so near, they would have disposed of you properly. Instead, they sucked you back into their dark web of deceit and occulted plans only to spit you out just as fast, leaving your fate to the blood soaked sands of Giedi Prime’s arenas. You believe that if it were not for the actions of Lady Jessica Atreides and her defiance of the order, they’d pay you more attention.

Not that you’re complaining.

You were trained to flourish in the dark, lurking in the shadows of the deepest of nights, awaiting a time to strike. However, you are not like your mentors, you do not believe in the hoping, the weaving of bloodlines for the production of a distant messiah, nor do you dirty your hands to obey an imperious Reverend Mother.

Truly, you admire Lady Jessica for doing the same as you did - defying the order and thereby splintering from it; all the same, you do not desire what she wants. For she wants power for her son and her unborn daughter, and you want nothing but to be left alone.

In a universe full of yearning for a greater purpose, you want the opposite. Often, you find yourself wishing you were something of nature: not mundane, by any means, but uncontrollable, like the desert winds that sift through the sands of Arrakis simply because. To be like them, without a master, without the endless search for purpose, is freedom.

Instead, you have been branded with the title Bene Gesserit - ex Bene Gesserit now - and you wield too much power for the order to ignore you, even alone. Hence why they incorporated your capture into their plans, engineering it so that you face the Baron’s brutal, bloodthirsty nephew in the arena.

They’re going to have to try harder than that to kill you.

You think they forget that you once were as good as the rest of them. They forget that you still possess the ability to alter the molecules in your blood to resist the drugs they pump into the arena prisoners, and they forget that you trained beside the best in combat.

The arena is where you thrive.

The roar of the crowd is deafening. It excites you, the swell of noise that is thousands of harsh Harkonnen tongues heckling for blood; the stamp of their feet as they cry their na-Baron’s name vibrates through the arena, through the grains of sand beneath your feet, deep and heady like burgundy wine.

Your fingers tighten around the blade given to you, barely sharpened and made of unsanded wood, but solid all the same. It’s all you’ll need against the na-Baron. He is but a cruel man set on fire with exterminable blue flames, and you are Bene Gesserit: defiant of the order or not, it is who and what you are, and it is pure power coursing through your veins - power that answers to you and you only.

The roar of the na-Baron soars over the crowd’s cheering, animalistic and full of fury that makes you wonder what incenses him so much. Something in his past, maybe, something that he only acknowledges in the inner machinations of his cunning mind.

The grate in front of you opens, and you allow yourself a smile as you step out into Giedi Prime’s tortorous ebony sun. High above, you spot the slit of a balcony where the Baron himself reclines, watching his nephew with a benevolent smile and a pipe in his hand, flanked by subservient concubines with bowed heads. All around, the crowd shouts, thunderous, urging their na-Baron to spill blood on the sand, to paint the arena red. It swirls around you like a washed out dream, black and white but simultaneously vivid, the stink of rotting bodies and sun bleached white sand pungent in your nostrils, the occasional pop from the fireworks overhead heavy in your ears.

Rolling your shoulders, you pace a few steps in before sitting down in the sand, cross legged, the backs of your hands against your knees with your blade flat against one of your palms. Pitiless, you watch as the na-Baron slices the throat of the first prisoner that staggers his way, throwing him an enigmatic smile when he glances towards you.

His eyes are cold; calculating. They’re dark, striking against his pale skin as they suck in the light, and hungry too, as if he strives for something he does not quite know, always reaching, always burning for more.

Intriguing.

He circles in on the next prisoner, who meets his end by the same savage knife work as the first, his guts spilled out onto the greedy sand. Insatiable, chest heaving with excitement more than fatigue, the na-Baron turns to you, his final prey - his black teeth are bared in a magnificent, maniacal grin, his footsteps silent as he approaches.

Facing him now, you understand why the Bene Gesserit believed that by crossing the Atreides’ meant-to-be daughter with the Harkonnen’s na-Baron, they would make the Kwisatz Haderach. There’s no doubt in this man’s genetics, in the solid lines of his strength sheathed bones and the sheer virility and ferocity that permeates the air around him - it’s almost elegant, the way he prowls towards you, his stride lilting and laced with power. They picked him well.

Too bad you’ll have to kill him.

If he proves to be obtuse, you’ll have no choice but to slay him in order to save yourself. If he is, however, as cunning as they say, you’ll give him a chance to live - it’d be a shame to end him, actually: something draws you to the rawness of his nature, to the frigidity of the ire in his eyes.

The na-Baron circles closer, his skin like moonlight. He watches you like a hawk, as if he’s the one who’s hunting, ready for his next meal; his eyes flash in the sun, studying you, watching for your tells even as you identify his. Smiling, you drop into a crouch, knife outstretched like a twisted mockery of a peace offering, waiting for him to take the bait and strike.

He cocks his head. ‘It’s rare that I face a woman in the arena.’

‘I’m sure it will still be of pleasure to you, Feyd-Rautha.’

‘I believe it will increase it tenfold, little witch.’

You don’t have time to figure out how he knows you’re Bene Gesserit, because he slashes at you, once down towards your ribs and once back up at your throat. His knife flashes in the sun, reflecting the bloodlust in his eyes as it arcs towards you; light on your feet, you parry both of his blows, dipping in to land your own. He’s strong, which is of less concern to you than his speed. Feyd-Rautha fights as if he’s dancing: not in the aspect that there’s flourish in his bladework - quite the opposite, he keeps his strikes efficient and tight - but in the smooth, hypnotic way that the movements of his body blend seamlessly together.

The crowd screams as he forces you into defence. It’s temporary, though, because he gets reckless, both driven and blinded by his hunger for blood - enough so that you can dart your foot out, hooking it around his ankles and overbalancing him. Sprays of sand are kicked up as he tries to steady himself, and you force him down with the tip of your blade to his pale throat.

A single, sleek drop of scarlet slides down his skin. Unhurriedly, he brings a hand up to catch it before it leaks onto his black armour, lifting it so he can see the blood your knife has shed. His gaze flicks up to you, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

‘Huh,’ he remarks, pleasantly surprised.

And then he lashes out, bringing you down into the sand beside him. With the hilt of his knife, he knocks your own out of your hand, and it’s catapulted into the air, spinning end over end and catching the light before it somersaults into the ground a few feet away. The grit plumes up at your face as you scuffle with him, and you hiss, frustrated that the sand does not lend you any more traction.

Rolling you over so fast your head spins, Feyd-Rautha drives his knife down towards your exposed neck. It makes a bolt of panic shoot through you, followed by the deep seated, survival impelled instinct to use the Voice on him, but like hell you’re doing that; honour prevents you, as well as the desire to finish this fight properly. You have no choice but to grab his forearm, slowing his blade’s descent, and a mirthful, rasping noise leaves his chest - a laugh that sets his eyes alight.

And then, the pressure dissolves, falling away. He stands, smirking down at you, the sun like a damning halo around his head. Silence falls over the arena, the anticipation thick in the air as he raises his hand, gesturing somewhere over your shoulder.

‘Go on, little witch, get your knife.’

You sneer, seeing the greed in his eyes, the misguided belief that he’s got you where he wants you. He wants to play, and it delights you.

Taking a few steps in the direction of the knife, you feign acquiescence. You can feel his eyes on your back, can sense the triumph oozing off him, and you let the adrenaline coursing through your veins guide your limbs, twisting you around so you can lunge at him, one hand wrapping around his bare forearm and bending it backwards as you spin him sharply until his back meets your chest. Viciously, you yank his arm further back, and the pain of that combined with your elbow tight around his throat, constricting his airways, is enough to loosen his grip.

A gasp ripples through the crowd as Feyd-Rautha drops his knife. It lodges in the ground beside your foot, and you flick it up with the toe of your boot, your hand darting out to snatch it from the air. The man in your arms bucks and writhes, but you keep your hold on him as you bring the knife to his neck for the second time.

‘Uh oh,’ you sing-song into his ear. ‘What’s happened here?’

He stills in your arms a little. ‘Why don’t you do it?’

‘I fear I’ve grown attached to you during our little fight,’ you hum. ‘It would be a shame to end a specimen like yourself.’

‘You are Bene Gesserit, I’m sure that you have arrangements - ’

‘I may be one, but I do not follow the order,’ you snarl. ‘I spare you because I wish to. Now, Harkonnen, knock the knife from my hand.’

You feel his muscles tense, the hesitation coursing through his body as he determines whether your bid is a trick or not, and then he does as you say, catching it smoothly and spinning to bring it to your throat. Calmly, you stare into his narrowed eyes, the cold caress of the blade harsh against your exposed skin.

‘What’s stopping me from killing you now, little witch?’

You laugh. ‘I trust I’ve piqued your interest sufficiently, na-Baron.’

‘Just Feyd is fine.’

You open your mouth to mock him, but he slices the blade away from your neck, very purposefully nicking you. Blood beads at the seam of the cut, hot and vengeful; he grips the back of your neck, exposing your throat to him, and prickles of pain shoot through you as the wound stretches. Frozen, you wait to see what he’ll do next, heart fluttering in your chest in a way that you know is not fear.

Insouciantly, he licks a long stripe up your skin, his scorching tongue following the trail of crimson his blade left behind. All consuming heat wells up in your stomach when he grins at you, displaying the hint of red coating his obsidian teeth, his eyes igniting the air between you as they dip down to survey your body, your heaving chest.

And then he releases you. You find your knees have gone weak, and you stumble as the guards close around you, grabbing you roughly under the armpits and dragging you out of the arena, your knees making twin tracks in the sand.

Managing a glance behind you, you catch sight of Feyd, his fist held triumphantly in the air as the crowd roars for their na-Baron.

Unsurprisingly, they throw you into a cell. Its walls are made of smooth, dark metal which seem to swallow up any sound that you make - it doesn’t surprise you that Vladimir Harkonnen has a Bene Gesserit proof cell - and the only thing furnishing it is a black blanket on the ground. A servant comes in and treats the shallow cut on your neck, but he refuses to meet your eyes and scurries off as fast as he can, almost forgetting to lock the door behind him.

You estimate two hours, maybe three, before Feyd appears in the doorway. His silhouette appears in the small glass window set in the door and pauses; you wonder if he’s considering leaving you there for a little longer, but then the lock disengages with a whoosh and the door slides open.

The air is immediately charged as he strides down the steps, eyes locked on you. With the smooth hiss of hydraulics, the door closes behind him, and he prowls forward, not quite smiling yet - you sense that he’s here to continue what you didn’t finish in the arena, and your back straightens a little as his gaze rakes over your body. He’s taken off his armour, leaving him in the thin black underclothes beneath, and he too has had someone treat the wound in his neck.

‘Your resistance to the drugs is remarkable, little witch. My blade was laced too.’

You raise an eyebrow. ‘I find that matter quite disappointing, actually, that you must face your opponents in the arena when they are half sedated in order to best them.’

He smiles, stepping closer to you until you share air. ‘It’s not just the winning I seek.’

‘Oh, what is it then?’ You ask. ‘Pain?’

Quick as a snake, you strike, letting the thrill of the fight shoot through you yet again as he matches you blow for blow. He looks at you as if he wants to eat you, to taste you - not just your lips or your tongue, but the defiant burn of your lifeblood too, and it makes you want to sink your teeth into him.

Slipping past his guard to catch the front of his shirt, you bunch the material in your hand and tear, baring his well muscled chest to you. The sight of it makes your lips quirk upwards, further so at the sound he makes: a half growl and a half groan as he lunges for you, wonderfully infuriated by the way you dance just out of his grasp, slipping through his fingers like water. His eyes are kindled with ardour - for both your blood and your flesh - and when they meet yours, shivers snap down your spine and tug at your stomach.

Feinting to the left, you jab at his neck. Like a scorpion waiting to strike, he grabs your wrist, tugging you towards him; you glance down at his feet, easily predicting that he’s going to sweep your legs out from under you if you let him bring you any closer. Yanking your hand back, you attempt to shake his grip on you, but he refuses to let go.

You slap him across the face.

Hard.

His fingers loosen on you as his head snaps to the side, the noise your palm makes against his chiselled cheek sharp and ringing in the cell. A soft, animalistic sound leaves the back of his throat, and when he lifts his chin, his jaw clenched to perfection, the pure lust in his eyes makes you stumble back a step.

Rushing at you, he takes advantage of the heady swoop of desire that messes with your head, slowly backing you against the wall with each punch and kick he throws. Heat roils in his gaze, so intense that when he slams you against the wall, you don’t know whether he’s going to kill you or kiss you - the not-knowing thrills you, sets your bones and soul on fire. One of his hands comes up, his fingertips caressing your throat before he pounces, mercilessly cutting off your air supply.

Leaning into your space, he brings his lips up to your ear. ‘If I’d had my way, little witch, I’d have fucked you right there on the sand, with all of them watching.’

Your head spins, and you can’t tell if it’s because of the lack of oxygen in your lungs or the feeling of his strong thigh pressing between your legs, relentless as he grinds it against your clit. You allow yourself a second to enjoy it before you retaliate, adrenaline seething in your blood.

Burying your nails into his arm, you twist it to the side, unbalancing him and taking him to the floor - his fingers grip your shirt, bringing you down with him. You land on his torso, straddling his hips, and as you do, he snaps his wrists down and rips your shirt from top to bottom down your back. The cool air of the cell sends ripples of goosebumps up your skin, and Feyd’s wide, calloused palms follow their path, surprisingly warm, deceptively gentle.

Bucking his lower body, he flips you over, pinning your hands over head, his long fingers circling your wrists as his hips press heavily into yours. Your eyes flick down to his mouth as he dips his head, his breath ghosting against your cheek; the curve of his lips is soft and almost graceful compared to the rough way he grinds against you, eager for more, yet eager to torture himself with the wait.

Tipping your jaw up, you let your lower lip brush his before you turn your head to the side, denying him. Amusingly, he follows your touch, insistent that you kiss him, but you ease out of his grip and trap him between your arms when he gives chase - a growl sounds low in his chest, one of his hands gripping your thigh, futilely yanking at your trousers as you grapple, rolling over and over on the cell’s floor.

His hand slams down beside your head, stopping your course, his forearm flat against your throat - not quite choking you, but not letting your air supply run free. Feyd’s touch sears your skin in the best way, and you wish to be consumed by the flames.

‘Must I tie you up, little witch?’

His voice is low and rasping, sending shivers up your spine. You don’t answer, instead claiming his lips, welcoming the insistent press of his tongue as you thrust your hips against his, seeking that exquisite friction. Running your hands up his strong back, you hook your elbow around the nape of his neck, locking him to you as he explores the taste of you.

Abruptly, he pulls away, and you open your mouth, protest on your lips until he tugs down your trousers and underwear, tossing them somewhere to the side, his own garments following. You get one good look at him, at his powerful, muscle lined thighs framing your hips and the curve of his leaking cock against his stomach before he swipes his fingers between your folds, sending jolts of pleasure through your core.

When he lowers his face to your heat, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, a breathless moan slips from you, loaded with anticipation. You can’t stop the louder echo that leaves you when he dips his fingers into cunt, curling them to hit your sweet spot, and your nails claw at his shoulder blades, leaving red trails behind them.

‘That’s it, little witch,’ he croons. ‘Sing for me.’

And sing you do, as he wrings the pleasure from you with his tongue and fingers until your legs tremble and close around his head. He pins your thighs to the floor, holding you open for him as he tastes you, insatiable, pushing you unrelentingly over the edge, again and again until hot tears slide down your cheeks and your voice breaks from crying his name.

Finally, he buries his length inside you. Your eyes roll back at the stretch of it, your pussy fluttering around him; you muffle the moan that rips itself from your chest by biting down on his shoulder. He chuckles as you mewl his name, your back arching as he pulls out, only sheathe himself up to the hilt when he thrusts back in - he’s as drunk on your sounds as you are on his cock: he needs more. More of you, of your delicious sounds and your intoxicating scent and that sweet, sweet cunt of yours.

Feyd fucks like he fights: ruthless, full of passion and lust, remorseless.

Just as you’re about to come around his cock, he pulls out, leaving you scrabbling against the floor, hips futile as they follow his, his name like a plea on your lips. He drinks in your desperation, flipping you over and cracking his palm down hard on your ass before slamming himself back into your weeping pussy, the ragged cry that escapes you like the nectar of the gods on his tongue as he swallows it with a kiss. Gathering your hair in his fist, he pulls your head back, pounding tirelessly into you as he pins you to his solid chest, mouthing at the skin behind your ear.

As Feyd spills his warm seed inside you, you wonder if the Bene Gesserit were actually distracted, or if that was what they wanted you to think as they crossed bloodlines, even despite your defiance of their order.

You flop onto the blanket as Feyd eases himself out of your spasming cunt. Your head is fuzzy, warm, and a dumb smile pulls at your lips.

Feyd chuckles. ‘I have not broken you, have I, little witch?’

You send him a look half as fierce as it should be. ‘Barely. You have merely sated me - for now.’

He laughs again, lying next to you on the blankets. His body is angled towards you, but he doesn’t reach out - that he lay down beside you is surprising to you in the first place, but you seize the opportunity and curl up in the curve of his body, enjoying the warmth of his skin. Slowly, his fingers card through your hair, and you close your eyes, letting yourself enjoy the moment of softness from the bloodthirsty na-Baron of House Harkonnen.

Reaching out, you grab the blanket and fold it over the two of you - he rolls over so that he lies with his head resting on your chest. His lips brush the skin between your breasts, and you're struck by the glimpse of vulnerability that Feyd allows you to witness; this is not by accident, this is a gift from him, a way of silently telling you that he has come as close to trusting you as he could ever come to trusting someone.

Silent, you bask there in the afterglow, eyes half closed. At some point, you seek Feyd’s lips, and he obliges you, lazily exploring your mouth in a way he did not get a chance to do before, sighing contentedly as you trace the lines your nails carved along the grooves of his broad back. Eventually, you pull away, staring into his eyes where the embers of the fire that had blazed in them still glow with the heat of it. You need to go.

Gently, your breath mingling with his, you kiss his cheek, your lips gliding against his skin before you get up, briefly laughing at the wobbly nature of your legs before gathering your clothes and dressing as best as you can, considering he ripped your shirt all the way down the back.

When you glance over your shoulder, he’s propped himself up on his elbows; the blanket has slipped down to reveal most of his moon coloured stomach, and he regards you with mirth mixed with something like respect.

You pause in the doorway. You can tell he’s letting you leave.

A smile plays on his lips.

‘We’ll meet again, little witch.’

It’s not a question, nor a whimsy. It’s a promise.

[glorysbox]

bihan x afab!reader (no pronouns used)

wc: 1.1k

warnings: explicitly 18+, bihan is mean, slight mention of power imbalance, slightly possessive bihan, coming inside, brief breeding mention at the end

Your Grandmaster is stressed.

It’s evident in the way his hips snap into your own, his cock buried in the warmth of your sex. Evident in the way he has little regard for your feelings or your own pleasure—clearly displayed in the cruel way he fucks into you and the punishingly cold grip that he has on your body. It stings—the icy feeling of his fingertips dug into the flesh of your hips.

“You belong under me,” his voice is low and even, nearly drowned out by the obscenely wet sounds that have you clenching tightly around him. “Be glad that you have this opportunity.”

You don’t respond. It’s not like you can, anyway—your face is buried into the mat of the floor, lips bitten as you desperately try to prevent any moans that Bi-han forces out of you. Your wetness pools around the base of his cock, sticky strings breaking with each pull out of you and reforming with each brutal push inside of you. It dribbles down, down your thighs, staining the mat under the both of you. Messy enough to be clinging to his balls and painting his thighs. Had you not been turned away from him—face down and ass up—you’d be able to notice the way he’s struggling to hold back the noises that threaten to escape his throat. You’d be able to see the way he bites his lip; see the way that his eyebrows are so tightly drawn together and see the way his cheeks are painted a rosy shade of pink. There’s a reason why he only fucks you from behind.

You are glad, though. It’s beyond you why Bi-han has taken such a liking to specifically you—despite being Lin Kuei, you perform significantly worse than your peers and struggle to keep up with the intensive training that you’re all forced to endure every day. It’s clear that he only keeps you around for one reason. Stress relief.

There’s a part of him that secretly relishes in the way you’re so much weaker than he is.

Bi-han doesn’t ever touch you. Doesn’t truly ever lay claim to your body through possessive touches as much as you secretly would like—but you don’t complain. You never complain. The fact that your Grandmaster comes to you of all people to relieve his stress is enough—and you do your best to help him. You really do. It’s not shown on his face, evident in his words or displayed in his actions, but Bi-han does truly enjoy how easily you bend to his will. He finds himself reveling in how easily controlled you are—and you don’t mind. You never do. It’s okay for him to use you… he is your Grandmaster, after all.

Cold fingers snake their way up your body, resting on your back—dipping in the center to push you further towards the ground. You shudder. Bi-han, for once, decides to not be (so) rough with you. This time, he won’t bury your face into the mat and grip your hair and force you to take the brutal pace of his cock until you’re cumming all over him. He’s in a good mood today.

Bi-han takes advantage of the way he’s forced you to arch under him, his cock drilling into you faster and a tad bit harder than before—the loud noises of your arousal probably audible to anyone who’d walk by the room. You can’t help but whine at this. It’s unintentional. Something that you can’t hold back… usually, you’re better at keeping yourself quiet. Bi-han likes it when you’re quiet. That’s what you thought, at least.

“Who’s your Grandmaster?” Bi-han’s hand grips your hair, pulling you back and forcing your neck to crane. He’s not feeling so benevolent anymore. His pace increases, his cock pumping inside of you harshly enough to the point where you can’t help but moan. He makes an effort to tilt his hips ever so slightly—the blunt tip of his cock rubbing alongside the spots he knows makes you cream around him. For someone that claims to only care for his own pleasure… he knows your body very, very well. Your walls flutter and clench around his cock, hands clawing at the mat below you as his grip in your hair tightens. His tone is gravelly—low—and you find a strong feeling of need throbbing in your lower body at the sound of his voice. “Say it. Don’t disappoint me.”

You could never dream of it.

“B—Bi-han…” Your voice comes out as a long, drawn out whine. You’re usually more mindful of your volume—but the feeling of him pressing into you like this, so relentlessly—you can’t help it. Hands gripping the mat to steady yourself, there’s nothing to stop the sounds that you make from escaping. You try to bite your lip—but he just presses deeper into you. Making you whine more. Your body trembles under him—legs shaking—as he draws back to plunge further into you especially roughly.

Bi-han is starting to find that he doesn’t mind listening to the sound of you moaning under him like this.

“You belong to me,” he reiterates, his hand moving from your hair towards the junction of your legs. Cool fingertips make their way towards the bud in between your legs—two of his fingers rubbing your clit in soft circles, a stark contrast to the punishing pace that he’s set for you. “No other man can have you like this. Say it.”

“Y—yours,” your words come out in babbles, barely intelligible as you struggle—squirming and writhing under him as he toys with your clit and drills inside of you. “Yours—I’m—”

The feeling is too much. His cold fingers ghosting along your clit—the other hand gripping your hips harshly enough to leave bruises. It doesn’t take a long time for your squirming to become borderline uncontrollable; matching the way your walls flutter and tighten around him like a vice and matching the way your cream and arousal stain his cock. Bi-han fucks you through it. He always does—more focused on finishing himself than having any regard for you—his hips stuttering at the feeling of you creaming around him and his grip on your hip tightening even more.

He stuffs his cock inside of you, burying himself to the hilt—leaving no space between the both of you. You can feel his seed leaking inside of you—it’s warm, and hot, and unfamiliar.

“You’ll give me a son.” He tells you, voice akin to a demand as his grip on your hips keeps you in place.

Who are you to deny your Grandmaster?

[ratatattouille]

summary of caitlyn kiramman defenders points that i've seen so far:

-cait didn't go as far as ambessa, so her actions are technically benevolent

-cait questioned ambessa and distrusted her, so yeah (like it doesn't still make her complicit)

-cait HAD to invade zaun and use the gas pipes to (poison zaunite air) avoid bloodshed (which makes it less violent hence almost not violent at all anyways)

-cait and vi learned to trust each other which is what zaun and piltover needed to begin healing (gag)

-vi's character resisted change, so for her arc to be complete, she needed to accept powder had changed and let go of her and embrace the life she wanted (in piltover? with sexy cait <3 - and not her zaunite family lmao) this is better than vi learning to accept jinx and herself and both their mistakes so they can realize their dream for zaun because it wasn't ever really about zaun and classism anyways it was about love uwu

-arcane wasn't actually centred around the sisters and it didn't sacrifice anyone's established personality traits in order to diverge from a more political plot (XD)

-jayvik was just as bad as caitvi (jayvik faced consequences like they legit "atoned" by fucking dying)

-caitlyn and jinx's (and vi's) reasons for tweaking are both equally valid <3

-caitlyn willing to shoot an innocent child (something JINX HERSELF has never done - at least sober) has no relevance to her seeing zaunites as lowkey expendable "it's so easy to hate them"

-cait (poor kitty) was manipulated by ambessa to get those cops beating up and gassing zaunite civilians (but jinx being manipulated by silco means she needed to die for their to finally be peace between the two countries bc she was always the one destroying the peace, isn't that right arcane writers?)

-cait betrayed ambessa tho, so that means vi would 100% embrace her bc she didn't shoot her father <3 and let jinx out of the cell <3 (despite the fact that vi already had little to no trust in piltovians, she saw her parents killed by enforcers as a kid, and saw cait load it up and point at an innocent child bc zaunites were that disposable to her)

-caitlyn gave up her seat to sevika (which is not actually cannon and also, many councillors had already died and there was one new seat added that year -jayce's, who was gone)

-vi deserves to be happy (and she would absolutely be happier with a formerly? fascist girlfriend instead of the sister she's wanted to be reunited with since vander died - like she wouldn't feel any guilt AT ALL for what transpired in the vents :D because cait trusted her despite her sister killing her mom after literally joining leading the military in harassing vi's people post-breakup but don't you see? it's because cait realized that zaun was dangerous with jinx still on the loose so that makes it kinda okay :D vi would totally forgive that after hearing of all the police brutality her people had suffered under the kiramman regime during that whole time :D)

-THE SHOW WAS NEVER ABOUT CLASS DIVIDES IT WAS ABOUT LOVVVEEEEEE AND FORGIVENESS WHY ARE YOU MAD??

-NO CHARACTER WAS ALTERED OR CHANGED (vi's thirst for zaun's independence and peace in zaun) IN ORDER TO STEER THE PLOT AWAY FROM THE POLITICAL IMPLICATIONS OF PILTOVER'S VIOLENCE AGAINST ZAUN HAHAH WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT??? THIS WAS ALL PLANNED FROM THE BEGINNING

you know what, i believe you, and that makes it suck even worse

[awkness]

No Man is an Island

(Paternal Platonic Yandere oc & Injured Teenage Genderneutral Reader)

You and a small group of people are left stranded on an island, struggling to survive. One member of the group, Henry, has grown a paternal attachment towards you and has taken on the task of caring for you, but are his intentions truly as benevolent as they seem, or is there something much more selfish behind them?

Content warnings: injury, plane crashes, talks car accidents, coma, and child death, and general yandere shenanigans

Authors Note: This is much more chill then what I usually write. Don't be fooled, though, this dude is still messed up lol

You were on a plane alone, flying back to see your parents when the plane begins to experience severe turbulence. The captain tries to reassure everyone that things are under control, but it only gets worse. It feels like you're in the middle of an earthquake. Oxygen masks fall from the ceiling, and you can barely put yours on before blacking out

You wake up to a horrible, throbbing pain in your leg, and a sticky, humid feeling everywhere else

You're near the shoreline of the beach, a canopy of tropical trees shielding you from the sun. Turning your head, you could make out the main wreckage of the plane. There's a crudely made splint on your left leg, which is swollen and covered in bruises. There are no people in sight

Panicking, you start yelling, trying to find someone, anyone to help you understand what's happening

A middle-aged, gruff looking man comes from the wreckage. He introduces himself as Henry and helps you calm down before explaining the situation to you

The plane had crashed on an unihabited island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, an unknown distance away from the mainland. All of the crew were dead, and most of the passengers were as well. The only people who survived were you, Henry, and no more than ten other people, all variously injured

None where as injured as you, though. Henry says that you had most likely broken your left fibula and tibia when the plane crashed. As the bone hadn't broke through your skin, he says that it should heal on its own, but it would take months, most of it spent on bed rest

The first few days were the roughest. You spent your time in a haze of pain and heat from the brutal and humid temperatures from the island. It was hard to make yourself eat, and you often felt like you never had enough to drink, as your group had decided to ration the fresh water and food that was scavenged from the crash

The other survivors didn't interact with you often. It wasn't on purpose, but they were too busy working to make this place temporarily habitable, and they had no time to think of an injured person who couldn't help them. Plus, you weren't much for conversation anyway, given your current state

The only person you did see regularly was Henry. He checked on you often throughout the day, acting much like your self-appointed doctor. He seemed to have a basic understanding of what medical care to provide you, though, so you weren't about to protest

His bedside manner was good as well, knowing when you were in too much pain to make conversation and when you were lucid enough to want company. He was your only source of companionship for those first few days, being the one to bring you your daily rations of airplane pretzels and coconut water and make sure you were eating.

Whether it was the pain subsiding or you simply adjusting to it, you began to pull yourself out of your pain driven stupor and started talking to Henry more, out of the pure loneliness and boredom of your situation

He was very easy to talk to despite his outwardly serious and borderline intimating disposition. As you talked to him more, you found him to be friendly and a bit corny, occasionally cracking a stupid dad joke or pulling light-hearted pranks on you. He seemed fairly competent at reading people, able to sense your loneliness, and often encouraging you to open up whenever he had the chance to talk

You didn't know if it was out of genuine interest or pity for your circumstances, but you found you couldn't refuse his company. Before you knew it, you started oversharing about your life. Within the next two weeks, he knew pretty much every major thing about you, from your family, your hobbies, where you lived, what your future goals and aspirations were, and so on

On the other hand, he seemed more reluctant to open up, often getting quiet or withdrawn when your questions got too personal, with what constituting 'personal' varying. You eventually picked up that something troubling must of happened to him in his past involving his family, so you stopped pushing, letting him bring up his past on his own time

Outside of superficial facts about him, the only thing you knew was that he was a former US Army Special Forces survival expert, which was how he knew how to treat your injury, and how he knew how to survive on the island

When you were feeling well enough, he would teach you some of survival knowledge he had, teaching you different fire starting methods, how to build a lean-to, and how to crack open a coconut to get the milk. He seemed rather anxious about watching you wield his knife, though, so he did that for you when he could

Things take a turn for the better as the group finds decent shelter that isn't the plane wreckage in the form of uninhabited caves in the heart of the island, along with a waterfall spouting drinkable water

Some are reluctant to leave the shoreline, as the group had taken to maintaining a bonfire there to hopefully signal passing planes or boats for help. A compromise was reached where they would move to the caves and would continue to maintain the fire in shifts

The trek towards the caverns was especially hard on you. The rest of the survivors had gone ahead to carry the supplies to the caverns, leaving Henry to guide you through the thick foilage and uneven terrain

Henry had given you a walking stick to aid your journey, but because of your prolonged bedrest, there were often times you had to be carried, making the journey a slow and tedious one. You apologized, but he brushed it aside, saying he didn't mind, as he often had to carry much heavier loads in the army. He then went on to tell you cherry picked stories from his time in the military to distract you until you reached the caves

He had decided that it would be best for you to sleep near him, in case you needed assistance or if there was an emergency. His reasoning seemed sound, and you were inclined to trust him after all this time, so you agreed

With this newfound stability, things finally seemed to slow down, as people weren't constantly threatened with death by starvation, dehydration, or exposure

This was also the time that the other survivors began to talk to you more regularly

It was how you learned that Henry had become the defacto leader of sorts, given he was the most qualified out of the group. People often came to you to see if he was there whenever they needed him, asking you to pass messages along to him when he wasn't there. Which was pretty often, given how he was usually the person to help gather food or scout out new parts of the island

It was after one of these outings that you began to learn more about him

It had been a rainy, stormy day, which made the groups whole mood sour. Henry was out with a small group to gather food, and you were with the rest of the survivors, hanging out in the main cave

It was easy to overhear conversations in the main cave, noise often bouncing about the walls. It's how you and the rest of the people in there were forced to listen to a heated conversation developing between two of your members

Apparently, one of the more toublesome people of your group had been caught stealing from one of the other members of the cave. Their talking turned to arguing, and the arguing became shouting, which became shoving, which was steadily growing more violent by the second

Some had tried to break up the fight while everyone else had managed to move away except you, who could only slowly hobble away

A fellow survivor was trying to usher you away when someone knocked into you, causing you to fall and hit your head on the cavern floor. You lost consciousness

When you woke, the first thing you noticed was the pain in your head, throbing like a pulse. The second was that you were back in your bed (if you could call a platform of crushed bamboo and palm leaves a bed), a blanket tucked to your chin. The third were the footsteps of Henry as he came over to kneel beside you, his face creased in thought and worry

He then went to question you on how you were feeling, if you knew who you were, if you remembered what happened, as well as checking your eyes and testing your muscles and general coordination

It was only after he was satisfied you didn't have any severe brain injury that he finally relaxed and explained what happened

After you were knocked unconscious, the fighting had stopped, and you had been taken back to your part of the cave to be taken care of as they waited for Henry and his group to arrive

The conversation then faded into silence, as you were too caught up in your pain to keep talking. You closed your eyes and laid back down

It wasn't until later that night that you finally noticed that Henry was still in the room, watching you, face blank and motionless as if he were in another world. You've never seen him look that way before

You nudge him and he startles, completely caught off guard, apologizing for worrying you

You ask him what's wrong, and instead of brushing your question off like he usually does, he hesitates before going on to speak about the family he used to have, a wife and a child, who he loved dearly. One day, they ended up in a car crash. He lived with minimal injuries, but his wife died, and his child ended up brain dead with no hope of recovery. He had kept the child on life support for months before finally pulling the plug

"When I was waiting for you to wake up, it was like I was back in the hospital, hoping beyond hope that a miracle would happen, and I would see them open their eyes again... Y'know, it's the craziest thing. While I was watching you, I kept thinking about how they would've been your age if they were still here. They would of looked just like you."

You apologize, unable to think of anything else to say. He waves it off and tells you not to mind what he said and to go to bed. He was still sitting and watching you as you fell asleep

About five months after the crash, when the group had started to lose hope of there being a rescue, someone had spotted a plane flying across the night sky

Everyone scrambled to strengthen the bonfire on the shore, yelling at the sky in a desperate attempt to be noticed

With Henry's help, you made your way to the fire as well, propping yourself up with a walking stick to keep your weight off your broken leg, waving your free arm to the sky as you joined in the shouting

But it didn't matter. The plane flew away, disappearing into the dark

Some people cried, others flew into a rage, and the rest didn't say a word. Eventually, people slowly made their way back to the caves, disheartened at their loss

After a few hours, it was just you and Henry left on the shore, the dying embers of the fire next to you as you both stared at the sky. He seemed content

You break the silence and ask him if he thinks there will ever be another opportunity for rescue

"I don't know, but I doubt it. With how long it's been, that plane probably wasn't searching for us. We probably won't see another one anytime soon."

"You don't sound too broken up about it" you say.

"I guess I'm not. If you can overlook the heat, this place ain't half bad. Fresh seafood, clean water, a built-in shelter, and 24/7 access to my own private beach. Shit, I don't even have to pay taxes anymore, either. This is the closest thing to paradise I'll ever find."

"You can't mean that, right? We can't stay here forever."

"Of course we can. We have everything we could need. Plenty of people have lived in worse places."

That's not what I mean, what about my family? I want to go home!

The mention of your family leaves him stunned, like he forgot they existed. He quickly regains his bearings and continues

"I don't mean to make you upset, kid, but I think you're misunderstanding me. I know it hurts now, but there's nothing stopping you from living a happy life here. You've got food, a roof over your head, and someone to take care of you, what more could someone ask for?"

You don't reply. Sensing your darkening mood, he offers to help walk you back, and you accept, both of you slowly making your way through the foilage in silence

You fail to notice that the fire was left unattended and how it had slowly died out, leaving the island invisible to any help that could pass by

The next morning, no one bothers to reignite the fire

Afternoon rolls around and Henry leaves, going to fish for your next meal. You pray it isn't sea cucmbers again

Someone comes up to you, asking for some cordage they had lent to Henry. Instead of waiting for him to come back, you decide to search for it yourself

You search his part of the cave and almost give up before spotting a bag hidden in a crevice of the cave. It was so well hidden, you're afraid you might lose sight of it if you turn away. What could he have in there? You're almost certain Henry wouldn't keep rope tucked so far out of sight. But you couldn't help your curiousity. You've been in here countless times, how didn't you notice this? Against your better judgment, you open the bag

You don't find the cordage

Instead, inside the small bag is the bright orange of a flare gun and several unused flare cartridges