#or at least stepped away from politics and power completely

[higglety]

“Y0u can disagree with Mitch McConnell and still wish him well” I suppose you can, but the thing is, I hate him and I think the world (or at least the country) would be better if he died, actually.

“you can disagree with mitch mcconnell and still wish him well” i wish he would have died right there on camera in front of america that shit would have been fire and i think what the country really needs right now for healing

[andypantsx3]

contents: general bakugou x princess reader; fem + afab virgin reader. nsft; oral (f receiving) & missionary. semi-sequel to this drabble. 3.2k.

Your wedding day arrives far earlier than you are prepared for.

It’s a tense affair, for you at least. The country depends on it, and you feel the scheming eyes of the nobility hot on your skin as you pronounce your vows to Bakugou. They will not take kindly to your having chosen him over their sons and brothers, over their own desire to rise to power. There will be a price they will want you to pay, soon enough.

The chapel is resplendent with sumptuous decor, the court in their finest. But the room is fringed with Bakugou’s men in their military leathers, a reminder that this is not a happy day, but rather a dangerous political stunt. It keeps the noble houses docile while they are in the room with you, but you know they will return to their estates and their plans. 

Your fate is in Bakugou’s hands, now, in more ways than one.

The ceremony is dizzying, and impossible to wrap your head around. The preceptor pronounces Bakugou your prince-consort, ostensibly to remain so while you assume the throne after your father’s passing. You will continue to rule him as his sovereign. But your vows to Bakugou also promise him your obedience as his wife. 

It is a contradiction, an impossible trap, the very reason why the general is the only man you could stomach the thought of marrying. If a husband is to rule you after all, Bakugou will do so justly. 

The thought does not stifle your nerves, however, as you make your way back down the aisle, sit down to the reception, and take your meal. A disquieting, anticipatory feeling settles over you, fizzing under your skin. You barely pick at your dinner, and drink too much of the wine.

You can tell Bakugou notices, scarlet gaze ever-perceptive, though he does not say anything until you are shepherded to the bridal suite to consummate.

Various aides try to follow you in to prepare you, but Bakugou slams the door closed on them, propping it shut with one broad shoulder. He barks at them to scram.

“Lord General—that is, Your Highness,” one of them stutters through the door. “We are required to witness the consummation—to verify that it is complete.”

A bolt of shame goes through you at this, and you catch hold of one of the intricately-carved wooden bed pillars. Bakugou grunts, holding the door closed with one palm while spinning to the nearby dressing table and chair. He grabs the chair, wedging it forcefully up under the door handle.

“You’ll be sure of consummation when I’m done here,” he growls through the door. “Don’t need you little fucking perverts making eyes the whole damn time. Now beat it.”

A weird sound escapes you, something between a gasp and a laugh—at his promise, at his gruffness.

“Your Highness,” comes a plaintive entreaty through the door. Bakugou slams a fist against it, and you hear a squeal and a sound like someone’s fallen over their feet.

An absurd laugh seizes you, and Bakugou eyes you pettishly.

“The fuck’re you laughing about,” he says, but there’s no heat in it.

Your fingers twist on the bedpost, nervously tracing the lines. “You’re taking to your new post well.”

Bakugou’s features twist into something dangerously satisfied, a smirk painting his mouth. Your breath comes short.

“My post,” he echoes, raising an eyebrow. “As your husband.”

Your stomach swoops. The disquiet flames back to life under your skin, settling heavy in your gut like a stone. 

“I supposed it is a post like any other,” you say, fixing your gaze on the ground. “There are responsibilities and… marital duties.”

You hear the soft tread of Bakugou’s boot as he steps away from the door, the rustle of his doublet as he draws closer. His many medals and ceremonial sword belt clink softly. It is a fashion you know he does not prefer, always living in his shirtsleeves—the better to fight in, to train in.

A calloused hand takes your chin, tipping your face up to his.

“You nervous, Princess?” he asks. His tone is obnoxious, as usual, but his crimson gaze traces your face.

You barely suppress a shiver under his touch. Your stomach churns with a thousand emotions and you find you don’t know how to feel. Relieved that you’ve made it this far. Annoyed with Bakugou’s composure and general manner. Apprehensive about what is to come. And warm, suddenly, all over. You do not want to examine why.

“Nonsense,” you sniff. 

A feral smile curls the corner of Bakugou’s mouth like he sees right through you. “You’ve never been with a man.”

Your face burns but you force yourself to return Bakugou’s assessing stare. “I’ve never been to Musutafu, either, but I know it well enough. I should think I am… prepared.”

Something hot alights in Bakugou’s gaze, burning like a coal. It’s not unlike how he looked at you that night in the dark outside his chambers, when you’d first come to him with this wild proposal.

“And what do you think you know,” he says, flatter than a question.

Your nose grows hot. “Enough.”

A thumb slides along your jaw, settling against the pulse in your neck. “Answer the question, angel.”

Your face just might be on fire. You steel yourself, reciting dispassionately. “You will undress me and then… enter me. I shall lie still—they say you can breathe through the pain and it will go away after some time. You will… work yourself to completion. And then we shall be done.”

A snort comes from Bakugou. “Is that how you royal tightasses do it?”

You feel your eyes narrow. “That is how everyone does it.”

Your ladies in waiting had been very emphatic. All of them had spoken of the same mechanics. The initial discomfort, the pain, the way a husband moved upon his wife until he was satisfied.

“You don’t know shit, Princess,” Bakugou says.

You reach up to pull his hand from your face, but he tenses, arm growing solid and immovable. 

“Explains why all you nobles are such fucking tight-buttoned pricks if that’s how you’re doing it.”

Your reply is startled out of you when his hand finds your waist. You take a step back, and then another, startling again when your back finds the wall. Bakugou follows you, eyes hot.

“You are insufferable,” you inform him hotly. “I am sure of the matter.”

“You’re always sure of a lot of things, Princess,” he says. His hand is back at your waist, and suddenly all your skin feels too hot and tight, stifling like a velvet dress in summer.

“I am sure you are the most obnoxious man on earth,” you say. “Now be quiet and commence with it. Let’s have done with it.”

Bakugou’s face is suddenly closer than you’d remembered it being.

“I’ll have done with you alright,” he says. “But I’m not gonna do it like you little uppity prudes.”

You find you can’t think of what he means, all of your thoughts clouded with his proximity, the feeling of his hand moving to your skirts.

“I—but there is only the one way,” you manage. None of your ladies had mentioned anything else.

Bakugou’s mouth cuts into a smirk again, and you hate him for how pretty it is. 

“We’ll fuckin’ see about that,” he says.

And then his mouth is pressed to yours. 

It’s nothing like the stilted peck you’d been obliged to give him at the ceremony—one that still left your face burning, for some unknowable reason. This feels entirely different in its intensity. Bakugou’s mouth is hot and soft and tempting and eager, and your body thrills with it.

Every inch of your skin feels like it zings with lightning when he licks into your mouth, and he presses you harder into the wall. You feel his groan all the way down to your toes.

“B–akugou,” you pant when his mouth leaves yours, only to stifle a yip when he moves down to your throat. He sucks a mark there, laving over it with his tongue, and you feel like you're melting in his hands. “That’s—not my—ah!—mouth,” you manage.

The tiniest scrape of teeth has you yelping again, and you find yourself clutching his bicep for purchase.

“No shit,” he says, leaving another mark lower, mapping his way towards your chest. Calloused fingers come up to cup one of your breasts, thumb swiping over your nipple through your stays. You catch hold of his hair, yanking a fistful of that flaxen blonde, clenching your thighs together.

“What are you doing?” you hiss. 

Bakugou looks up at you, expression annoyed. “Consummating.”

“But you’re not undressing me,” you say. “And shouldn’t we—on the bed?

Bakugou raises a blonde eyebrow. “They tell you it needs to be on a bed, too?”

You blink, momentarily disarmed. It was quite literally called sharing the marriage bed—where else were you supposed to do it?

“Are you sure we’re talking about the same thing?” you eventually ask him.

Both of Bakugou’s eyebrows shoot for the moon, and he looks very suddenly like he wants to laugh. A grin yanks at his mouth, sharp and beautiful.

“I knew you’d be a fucking handful,” he says, his tone somehow both annoyed and delighted. “Don’t even know what the fuck you’re talking about and you’re still trying to give me orders.”

You yank at the fistful of his hair you’re still clutching and he hisses, hand shooting out to grab yours. He works your grip off of him, pinning your wrist to the wall. The air in the room suddenly feels a hundred times thicker, like trying to breathe through honey.

“Listen closely, Princess,” he tells you, leaning in. “We're going to consummate, alright. But I’m not just gonna squeeze my eyes shut and stick it in. I’m going to do what I want first, and you’re going to be good and let me.”

Your face ignites in flame. You want to disagree reflexively. “If it’s going to be painful I’d rather just have it over with, if you don’t mind,” you say.

Bakugou stares back, scarlet gaze roving over you. “It’s not gonna be if you shut up and let me do what I want.”

You blink. You hadn’t heard that there was a way around the pain—why hadn’t anyone told you?

“I—really?” you ask.

Bakugou nods. “Really.”

“Oh,” you say. “Well then… you may proceed, I suppose.”

“You suppose,” he echoes, staring you down. The look on his face makes you want to lean forward and bite it off.

“Well get on with it,” you say, arching your eyebrows.

Bakugou looks for a moment like he wants to shake you. But he ducks his head instead, lowering his mouth to yours again.

“Gonna fuck that bossiness right out of you,” he mutters, low like he’s promising himself and not you. But then he kisses you again, muffling your gasp in his mouth.

You’ve never kissed another man, and do not have a frame of reference for what he’s doing. But Bakugou is a good kisser, you think. Every flick of his tongue feels like someone has uncorked champagne and poured it beneath your skin, and every brush of his mouth against yours sends a liquid heat racing through your veins.

You moan into his mouth when calloused fingers delve beneath the collar of your gown, dipping into your stays and pinching a nipple. He rolls it carefully, and you arch against him without any say-so from your brain. 

“Been thinking about this, Princess,” he says. “Ever since I saw you in that little nightdress. Gonna show you what it really means to be with a man.”

You’re excused from answering by his mouth back on yours. Not that you think you could, with the way his fingers feel in the cups of your stays, or the press of a strong thigh between your own.

“Bakugou,” you gasp when he peels off of you, only to sink to his knees before you.

“It’s Katsuki,” he says, busying himself with the hem of your skirts. 

“B–Katsuki,” you say. “What are you doing?”

Long fingers roll up the hemline of your dress, then yank at your underthings, exposing you to him. You gasp again, moving to cover yourself, but Bakugou pins you to the wall with an arm across your stomach, catching your thigh and pulling it over his shoulder.

“Husbandly duties,” he replies, another smirk on his mouth.

And then your head thunks against the wall as that mouth moves, pressing to you.

“Katsuki!” you shout, biting off into an embarrassing moan when he laves over you. No one had told you about this part—about how a man’s mouth there would make you feel like fireworks had just been lit off in your veins. About how a man’s mouth could even go there at all.

Bakugou doesn’t reply, kissing you there as he had your lips. A delicate suck from him over the cleft of you has you arching in his hands again, and you can quite literally feel him smirking against you.

He works you thoroughly, licking and sucking for what feels like torturous hours, but must only be minutes, until you’re a writhing, panting mess, only held upright by the arm he has banded across your lower stomach. There’s a pressure rising within you, pooling in all your limbs, making you shake and shiver with it, and what feels like no way to release it.

“Katsuki—I feel strange,” you say, bucking against his mouth. “Oh—oh!”

“Just hold on, sweetheart, and let yourself feel it,” Katsuki tells you, before licking back over you. A finger presses up inside of you, foreign but strangely good in conjunction with his mouth. Then another one presses in and they curl as if seeking something, making you twist in his grip.

And then something makes you jerk—the press of Katsuki’s fingers inside you in just the right spot, while he sucks on you, feeling like he’s touching the same place inside of you from both sides.

Something inside you snaps, uncoiling, pleasure flooding down you like a mudslide. You cry out Bakugou’s name, tears in your vision, riding out your pleasure against his mouth. Bakugou licks you through it, groaning low in his throat with appreciation.

“That’s it, Princess,” he says, tone rough. “Now you’re ready for consummation.”

You hear his words as if through a haze, and it’s only once you’re moving—being picked up and carried over to the bed—that you register what he’s saying.

He frees himself from his breeches, and stretches out over you, kissing your mouth. You’re embarrassed to taste yourself on him, but the press of him to you overrides that concern. In one smooth stroke he presses in, and you are shocked to find that he slides home easily, your core slick and ready.

It feels strange, but not at all unpleasant—absolutely nothing like what they’d told you.

“You alright, Princess?” Bakugou asks.

“I—yes,” you say, voice fluttering off when he flexes his hips, moving inside of you. The slide of him inside of you is unexpectedly good, especially when he lowers a hand to your core, pressing a thumb to that bundle of nerves at the hood of you.

“Feel good?” he asks, his eyes hot on your face. You cling to him, hips lifting into him unthinkingly as his thumb pets over you again, as he presses in and out of you a few more times.

You nod, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of saying it aloud.

He grins anyway, feral and fever-bright. His pace picks up into something faster, and you’re embarrassed to hear the slap of him against you, the eager way your body welcomes him in.

The band of pressure builds up inside you again, slowly, with every sure stroke of Bakugou inside you. He’s hot and hard and heavy over you, pressing you into the mattress, and the tops of his cheeks are flush with effort—the way he looks sometimes when he’s just come in from the training pitch.

He’s beautiful—handsome and strong and hot-headed and determined. And it dawns on you that he’s yours now—not just your subject but your husband, your prince consort, and now your lover.

It makes all your skin turn molten hot again, especially when you look down and see your knees have rucked his shirt up. You can see the flex of his abs as he thrusts between your thighs, all that golden skin and dense muscle.

The slide of him inside you and the sight of him over you is suddenly too much, and you feel yourself tip right over the edge again. Bakugou catches your hand as you lift it to muffle your cry, kissing over your knuckles.

“That’s it, Princess, that’s it,” he says again, ducking his head to kiss you.

You moan into his mouth as he fucks you through it, and he groans with the clench of you.

“Feel so fuckin’ good,” he says against your lips, pace picking up faster. “Knew you would, sweetheart, yeah.”

Embarrassingly you feel almost like you could come apart again with the praise. Bakugou groans once more, and you can hear his grip tighten in the blanket next to your head. His hips buck and flex, wildly uncontrolled now, until he gives one final hard thrust.

His weight pins you down when he relaxes over you, his breath tickling over your shoulder. You find you like the weight of him on you, covering you, like a shield against the rest of the world.

Apt, for a general.

“Better than how you wanted to do it, wasn’t it, Princess?” he asks, smug.

You scoff, but you catch the flash of a white grin in the corner of your vision. There is really no question that he’d had the better of it, this time.

“Knew you’d see it my way,” he says.

Over him, you can hear the flutter of feet outside the door, some muffled discussion. Heat rises to your face when you realize the castle aids most definitely heard you cry out under Bakugou’s ministrations. There will be no doubt of your consummation now, regardless of whether you were observed.

“Nosy fuckin’ perverts,” Bakugou says, rolling off of you. You catch another flicker of his chest with the way his shirt gapes, and he looks doubly smug when he notices.

“Not done yet, angel?” he says.

“I am, thank you.” You flush, embarrassed at having been caught. But Bakugou stretches an arm out to yank you over him, pressing you down over his hips.

Your stomach flutters.

“Give me a couple more minutes, Princess,” Bakugou says, scarlet eyes flashing with heat once more. His hand raises to trail through your hair, catching in the wedding hairstyle they’d pinned you into. 

“Five more minutes,” your new husband promises you, with a grin like the devil. “And then we'll give them something to really listen to.”

[interstellarflare]

A Cinderella Story || Anthony Bridgerton

-PART FOUR-

Summary: Have courage, and be kind. Words that you tried to live by ever since the passing of your parents. Though your step-mother and step-sisters did everything in their power to hide you and your status away from the rest of the Ton, you never expected to catch the eye of Viscount Anthony Bridgerton himself.

Authors Note: This is my first Bridgerton series! I had an absolute ball writing this, and I hope you enjoy it! There is a tag list open if anyone wishes to be kept updated for future parts. Gif by @catalinabaylors

|PART ONE| |PART TWO| |PART THREE|

Sooner than he would have liked, the time to leave for Lady Danbury’s ball crept up on Anthony. Truth be told, he really wasn’t looking forward to tonight.

Eloise still wasn’t speaking with him, at least politely anyway. She would glare, scoff in annoyance every time he opened his mouth, and often snapped a snide remark in reply to a question.

Anthony could see that his mother, Violet, was incredibly uncomfortable with the whole situation. She had warned the two of them to sort out their differences before arriving at Lady Danbury’s residence, otherwise the two would be an embarrassment to not only themselves, but the Bridgerton House. Even if was only just for the night.

The carriage jostled about along the cobblestone street, with Violet, Eloise and Anthony sitting in complete awkward silence. Anthony could feel his sister’s glare burning holes into his head, the tension weighing heavily as his gaze moved to settle on his mother. Violet looked between her two children nervously.

They were to be at Lady Danbury’s residence any second now, appearing before the ton in such a state was not a good look for anyone. “Now I don’t know what is bothering the both of you, but you two need to resolve this matter quickly. You are both the face of our family tonight-“

“Mother-“

“Enough! I have never seen the two of you bicker like this before, it is unlike you both. Now I suggest that you settle this matter here and now, before we are to arrive” Violet snapped, glaring harshly between her two children before her. All Anthony could do was sigh. He heard Eloise scoff, shifting uncomfortably beside him as she grumbled “Fine. I will play nice for now, but you need to actually open your eyes-“

“Open my eyes to what!?” Anthony exclaimed, turning his body to face her fully “You had told me nothing! What exactly am I supposed to be looking for here?”

“It is so plainly obvious, even Colin could figure it out”

“Then why don’t you tell me!?” Anthony shouted, hearing his mother sigh heavily across from him.

Eloise glared, clearly uncomfortable with where this conversation was progressing. He noticed that her hands had now clenched into fists by her side, her eyes falling to the carriage floor. “I…I cannot, I am sworn to secrecy-“

“Oh for the love of-“

“Oh thank god, we’ve arrived…” Violet breathed nervously, fixing her cream and gold patterned dress as she adjusted her gloves anxiously. Both Anthony and Eloise fell into silence, anger bubbling in his chest as he continued to stare at his sister.

Something was going on, and it irked him to not know what it was. He felt the carriage stop, and turned his gaze towards his mother as she quickly exited the carriage and breathed a deep sigh of relief. Next was Eloise, who cleared her throat and fixed her skirts as she moved toward the carriage door, but Anthony stopped her. He gently grabbed her forearm, stopping her from moving as she quickly turned to face him, a furious expression on her features.

“Does this have something to do with Y/n? The girl we met this morning?”.

He’d been wanting to ask that question since their return home, since Benedict had bothered him all afternoon about his feud with their sister. If this was supposedly about you in some way or another…why? He knew that you and Eloise were close, good friends even. But what did Eloise, and supposedly Colin know that the rest of the ton did not? What was going on in the Worthington household?

The way Eloise’s expression softened confirmed his suspicions, she sighed heavily. “I can say no more, but I will say this to you, and I want you to think about it…really think about it. The ton knows that Lady Worthington married Lord L/n upon his late wife’s passing, and she adopted Lord L/n’s daughter alongside her own. So, think on this dear brother…what happened to her?”

Anthony froze, his brow furrowing as he though on Eloise’s words. He hadn’t thought about it really, no one had seen Lord L/n’s daughter since his passing. He’d heard rumours that she had run away in grief, leaving behind her family estate and fortune to Lady Worthington and her daughters. He remembered he’d only seen her once, he’d attended one of Lady Danbury’s balls as a child with his mother and late father. He had been quite nervous being amongst all those people, but he couldn’t take his eyes off a young girl about his age, perhaps a little younger, dancing with some of the men and women at the ball.

She had the brightest smile, and a contagious laugh. It was only after the ball upon their return home that Anthony had asked his father who that girl was. Upon hearing that it was the daughter of Lord L/n, he’d hoped to see her again. But he never had.

Violet stuck her head back inside the carriage, glaring at the two of them harshly. “Will the two of you get out!? People are watching!” She exclaimed in a hushed whisper, urging the two of them out with her hand. Eloise forced her arm out of her brother’s hold and stepped outside, smiling forcefully up at her mother as she tried to appear happy.

But Anthony was stunned. He felt rather uncomfortable now, unsure of what to think or do now with this knowledge. It irked him, made his stomach churn uneasily as he stepped out of the carriage and fixed his jacket. His eyes met Eloise’s once again, and he couldn’t help but feel sad. He entered the ball by her side, his arm looped through hers as they moved about the crowd of people. His mother had disappeared to speak with Lady Danbury, he could see the two on the other side of the room gossiping to themselves happily.

He felt as if he was in a trance. Amongst the dazzling light of the chandelier and the multitude of candelabras strewn about the room, he couldn’t focus. The sounds, the surroundings, everything was blurring into one big mass. He left Eloise for a moment, allowing her to mingle with some other debutants while he chose to escape outside for a moment of fresh air.

He felt sick, an uneasy feeling settling in his chest. It had only been an hour since their arrival, but all Anthony wanted to do was leave. He couldn’t think straight, couldn’t actually come to terms with what Eloise was suggesting…if she was even suggesting that in the first place. He took a deep breath in, now turning back to face the congregation inside.

He couldn’t go back inside, not after seeing Lady Worthington and her daughters enter the room with an extravagant pose. Upon seeing Lady Worthington, dressed in a deep blue gown with golden shawl draped over her shoulders, Anthony jumped the small balcony and landed in the gardens below. He fixed his jacket, releasing a quick breath as his eyes quickly darted around to make sure no one had seen him.

Though…he had to be the most unfortunate man at the ball tonight.

“What the hell are you doing!?” Benedict exclaimed in a hushed tone, a confused yet furious expression on his features.

Anthony flinched, lifting his gaze upward and giving his brother an awkward grin.

“Cover for me”.

“Excuse me!?”

“Just…be there for Eloise…” Anthony groaned in annoyance, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly “…I have some business I need to take care of-“

“Don’t you dare leave me here with…” Benedict growled, his entire form freezing as he heard the shrill voice of a woman call out to him, one that Anthony couldn’t help but snicker at “…that.”

“It would appear that Miss Mary Worthington requires your presence, dear brother. Perhaps it is I that will enjoy your misfortune instead-“

“Oh, oh ha ha ha…” Benedict snapped sarcastically, glaring down at his older brother with annoyance “…you’re such little bas-“

“Give my sincerest apologies to our mother, and I shall see you upon my return home!” Anthony called out as he spun on his heel and jogged away, laughing quietly to himself as his brothers’ pleading cries faded into the distance.

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[canihaveacalmtime]

Your entire life wasn't any eventful in any means aside from the fact that you were targeted and bullied in your intire school life from primary to highschool by the same pair of twin brothers.

You don't know how it started, you don't know when it started, hell you don't even know why they targeted you out of all the other weaklings.

Everyday, the moment you step your foot inside the school ground, they always going to find a way to make your soul jump out of your own body and begin their daily mocking essay, perform it straight into your ears then leaving you with a new wound deep within your mental health.

Near the end of the final year of highschool, you begin to form a plan that will separate you and them forever by telling them with a scared tone about what college you will attend when they ask, behind the scene, you will begin study hard for another further away college, maybe even try to get in one that's out of the country.

Your plan worked and you begin following your dreamt path that you've chosen, you felt relieved, you felt happiness, you felt like the biggest obstacle in your life has been gone.

For the moment, at least.

So imagine meeting them again after applying for a secretary job and now having them as your boss? Sure it'd be so horrific due to them forcing you to work over hours and dump so many paperworks on your work table everyday. Even so, you noticed that they aren't like how they were like years ago anymore and for some kind of reason, you feel really nauseous and wary, your mind screams to you so.

One late night, a day where you have to work over hours, you got really surprised when you realize they haven't went home like how they used to but instead stay and out of nowhere handing you a small box of (flavor) tiramisu cake, saying that they just want to gift you something for your help with assist the company to reach the top 10 in the country.

To you, that excuse were rather foolish to say the least, your mind insist on telling you that you must not take that but your body really needs sugar or it'll collapse by the next 30 minutes so you accepted and politely thanked them. So you wait for them to leave your work room, then finally feel safe enough to take a bite.

The only image you see before you black out was the big twin carrying you in the bridal style as the small twin holding you face, they both have the same love sick face directly at you.

----------

Back when the three of you were in kindergarten, you were the only one who helped them fight off the bullying and rude comments from other kids. Those kids called the twin as ugly, weirdos, psychopaths and any other snarky comments they could make out.

Technically, you were friends with them until primary when they began to becone very popular because they have grow their hidden beauty and no longer the shy and weak twins you know anymore. They turned against you, begin to call you names, begin to use their powers against you and soon enough, you no longer have the will to continue thinking that they will change back to themselves before and accept your fate as a fun thing for them to curse, hit and make a show out of.

That's the 'point of view' that you've been living in for your entire life, your point of view only but how about their point of view?

The twins despite born in a super wealthy family, they never really get to experience 'love' as their parent always busy with works and outside relationships related to business so for them to not know how to understand love let alone giving out love, is a completely normal thing.

They really love you, they wish to cherish you, to protect you and make you happy but they didn't know how and the way they used to express their feelings towards you ended up making your life miserable. They didn't stop the bullying until they went through with the plan of putting cameras in your house, that's when they realized how much damage they have already done to you but fixing that would already be too late since the time they knew about that was also the time you made the plan to cut them off completely.

When you moved out of your parent house, went to the college you study so hard to get in and enjoying the freedom to longed for, they were waking up everyday to regret and hopes of finding you again after they knew about your leave.

The moment they saw you as their new secretary, they knew that they can't not waste anymore time they've already wasted, either they lock you in their arms now or lose you again, forever.

----------

As you wake up from a good sleep since a long time, you immediately know that this room is not yours and by the small picture on the bedside table, you can already guess where you are right now. You noticed that you're currently wearing your favorite type of sleep clothes, you flop back down on the comfy bed, wanting to have another good sleep when suddenly you hear the door open.

The twin notice you've already awaken and are looking at them right now so they await for your reaction, wether it's positive or not but what they didn't expect is you just casually say "hey" to them. And you, you don't even know where did that came from but it felt nice to greet them like how the three of you used to be in kindergarten.

When you were still spacing out, a hand had placed on your head to ruffle your hair follow by a soft kiss on your forehead.

"Did you have a good sleep, darling?"

You look at them for a few seconds before nodding lightly, they also notice that you've been spacing ever so slightly.

"Is something bothering you?"

"No", you said, "it's nothing, just... it's been a while since we talk- like this and it's not that I feel uncomfortable, I-I like it, it feels nice, I was just.. trying to get familiar with the old feelings and-"

"Alright alright", they smile, "we get it (y/n), it is really nice."

They stand up from the bed and look at you, "Let's go have breakfast, you must be hungry now, we gonna have (favorite food) today, what do you think?"

You give them a soft smile.

"Let's go enjoy it then."

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

A/N: This is much more longer than I anticipated, dayum 💀 Still, hope y'all enjoy it though, not the best work but I kinda like this one. I can write more about them if you like lmao, do let me know in the comments ❤

[malum-forev]

In My Head

Bucky was past the point of anger. Sam could tell by the way Bucky stared at him with tense  eyebrows. He had been for the past sixteen hours. 

“What the hell is wrong with you now?” Sam massaged his temples. They had barely escaped death days prior, he didn’t have the time or energy to deal with whatever Bucky’s problem was. 

But the Sergeant kept quiet. 

Sam huffed, leaning his head back on the wall of the plane.

Just three more hours and we’re back home. Sam thought. 

Bucky grinded his teeth, keeping his eyes set on the floor.  He felt his blood like fire, rushing through his whole body. His thoughts were racing, a thousand miles per hour. His muscles felt weak but he couldn’t fall asleep, not after what happened. 

A flashback to the moment where everything almost ended came back but Bucky shook his head, trying to erase the memory. But nothing would let him forget what he saw in those last seconds. 

Then the all-consuming rage came back again. 

Bucky had been going through this vicious cycle for the past 72 hours. 

His body tried to betray him when the plane landed, Bucky’s sore body begged for mercy. Even one hour of rest would help but he was on a mission. 

Bucky stalked off the ramp directly into the compound’s common area. 

“Buck!” Steve rose from the couch, happy to see his best friend alive and back. 

But instead of greeting his friend, Bucky kept walking. “Where is she.”

“She? Who?” 

“She’s got you too, huh.” Bucky scoffed. “Un-fucking-believable.”

The elevator ride up to the bedrooms was too long for him. He needed to unleash the rage he’d been filtering for days, and there was only one person responsible for everything. 

You thought you were getting a relaxed Sunday. No one needed help, the world was at peace, and you were going to watch disgustingly cheesy movies all day. 

Key word- thought. 

Suddenly your door was being almost smashed by a couple of knocks.

“I know you’re in there.” Bucky’s voice boomed. 

You rolled your eyes, trying to keep yourself as quiet as possible. He would go away eventually, right?

“Open the damn door!” He yelled. “I can hear your breathing pattern.”

Your ��relationship”, if you could even call it that, with Bucky is strained to say the least. 

He’s a veteran who should be retired, you’re a newer hire. He likes things to be done a specific way, you always try new things. He wants to lead, you want to lead. 

“I’m not on the clock right now so technically, you’re not my boss.” You yelled back, throwing a popcorn kernel in the air and catching it in your mouth. 

“Open this fucking door you witch!”

“Sorceress.” You corrected him. If he was going to try and use your powers to insult, he should do it the correct way. 

You heard a growl then a pop. As you sit up in bed, the door handle from your side of the room falls to the floor and the door flies open. 

“Guess the door was open after all.” Bucky gives you a fake smile. 

“Why are you here.” You turn away from him, partly to act disinterested and partly to stop looking at him. He wasn’t your favorite person in the world but you’re only human! You hadn’t seen him in days and the ruffled ways of his hair and unkempt beard made your breath hitch. 

“You know why I’m here.” He gripped the metal pole on your bed’s footboard, you turn only your head towards him blinking a couple of times at the sight of his rolled-up Henley exposing his forearms. When the fuck did you start being attracted to forearms, when did that even become a thing! You followed the popped-up veins traveling from his knuckles to his elbows where they disappeared completely. 

“I don’t have time for your mysterious ways, Barnes.” You turn back to your movie. “Either tell my why you’re pissed or get out.”

With two steps he’s standing next to you again. His stern blue eyes pierced through you, forcing your head up. 

“How did you do it.” Bucky says through gritted teeth. 

Your eyebrows furrow. 

“This is the last time I’ll ask politely.” You could see the anger in his eyes. “How the fuck did you do it!”

You stand up. He was still ways taller than you but no one was going to come into your room and speak to you like that.

“I have no clue as to what you’re talking about.” You crossed your arms. “So, this is the last time I’ll ask you properly. Get out.”

Bucky let out a humorless laugh. “Is this a joke to you? This job? Be careful how you talk to me because I can make everything go away in a second.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a promise.”

Your breathing quickens as your anger rises. “You have no right being here when I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Nothing wrong?!” Bucky yells coming closer to you. “You almost cost me my life that’s what you did! Now you say nothing’s wrong?”

“Your life? How the hell am I responsible for a mistake you made thousands of miles away!” You stand inches away from his face, rage hovering over both of you like a cloud. 

“You got in here!” Bucky points to his head  “I know you did some spell just for me to mess up!”

“I didn’t do anything! I wouldn’t try and get you killed!” You yell. 

“Then how the fuck did I see you when I was going down!” He yells back and your room suddenly goes quiet, only the sounds of your heavy breathing could be heard. 

“Y- you saw me when you were dying?” You whisper, looking up at his crystal blue eyes. 

Bucky sucked in a breath, his eyes going from yours to your lips. 

“You were in my head, I know you did it on purpose.” Bucky’s eyes stopped at your lips.

“I would never do anything to hurt you.”

Your mind must have been playing tricks on you because you were almost certain Bucky was coming closer to you. 

But suddenly, the heat radiating off his body was ripped away from you. He jumped towards the door and out the hallway. 

“I need to leave.” He said, coughing into his hand. Red splotches adorning his cheeks. “I’m sorry about your door handle, I’ll have someone come by and fix it.”

All you could do was nod. 

“I-my-I’m.” Bucky stuttered. 

“Have a nice rest of your Sunday, Sarge.” You said and he nodded his head, hurrying down to his bedroom. 

You fell back onto your bed. This has got to be the weirdest Sunday ever. 

[gothsoyl]

To misbehave and be punished by Rio 🥵

She gonna take clothes and demand to bend over her knee on the bed, blindfold to spank our ass, making us moan and whimper. We try move, only to her lay us across her lap and gives some last spankies after stroking our sensitive skin and wet folds

"misbehave" +18 ceo!rio vidal x reader word count: 1,4k note: okay but i liked it so much and sorry it took so long ugh (｡T ω T｡)

rio comes into the bedroom with heavy steps and you follow her quietly, realizing that you’ve failed her… at least, she thinks so. and maybe you really screwed up. 

just an hour ago, you were at some kind of charity event hosted by the rio company, which brought together all the influential people. especially for this occasion, rio chose a gorgeous dress for you, which hampered your movements all evening. especially for this occasion, rio has been asking you to be polite and smiling as if you were really enjoying yourself. and you tried – you smiled at everyone, supported small talks, and tried to please everyone.

but as time went on, it became more and more unbearable for you to be there. the whole atmosphere seemed to suffocate you and make you feel pathetic. and the champagne you were drinking nonstop didn’t help you at all. so in the end, you couldn't help but be rude to one of her investors. and, of course, rio heard it. of course, she heard exactly the way you slurred some nonsense to this old stinky man. of course…

that was the moment you realized that you have a huge conversation waiting for you at home. you definitely won't like it.

you drove home in complete silence. rio didn't even look at you, her fingers nervously tapped on the steering wheel in anticipation of home.

“did I tell you not to drink so much?” rio's rough voice seemed to bring you out of a trance and she swallowed noisily.

“it's not about the champagne... they were unbearable!” you look at rio with incomprehension, but you know your answer would only make her more annoyed with you.

“one evening!” her voice breaks and she sits on the edge of the bed, tiredly rubbing her temples with her fingers, “I asked you to behave yourself one evening!”

you don't say anything, just stare at her intently, not knowing what to do. part of you wants to rebel and leave, slamming the door loudly, but the other part of you feels guilty and regretful. rio hasn't asked you for anything that much... couldn't you help her at least once?

you take a cautious step towards her, but immediately stop when she looks up at you sharply, and a small grimace plays on her lips.

“take off your clothes,” her voice cuts through the unpleasant silence around you, and you look at her in surprise, as if you hadn't understood what she wanted to do with you, “i said, strip!”

you don't move from where you’re standing, and this pisses rio off even more – she roughly grabs your hand and pulls you towards her, her free hand reaching for the zipper of your dress from behind, trying to quickly remove it. you gnash, try to pull away from her and push her hand away, but her grip is too strong. 

“rio, that's enough!” you literally hiss at her, but rio doesn't even pay attention to it.

in the end, she rips off your dress, and the fabric tears loudly from her pressure, but she also doesn't care, right? 

“did you want to be a bad girl?” rio growls back and pulls you towards her with more force, pressing her hand on your back and positioning you across her knees.. her elbow is painfully pressed against the back of your head, not allowing you to even look at her, and you suddenly feel how little power you have in this relationship, how much rio can control you if she wants to, “now you find out what happens to bad girls – they get punished.”

the sound of a slap fills the room and you flinch at rio's sudden blow. you hear her chuckle and you know perfectly well that now her lips are spreading into that sly smile that always drove you crazy. 

“are you a bad girl?” her voice seems lower, and at first you’re silent, trying to escape from her grip.

but the silence is cut by a slap again.

“answer me!” rio presses her elbow even harder on the back of your head and you clench your jaw, just not to tell her something stupid.

“yes...” a strangled squeak escapes your lips.

“and you're sorry you behaved like that?” rio's fingers trace circles on your reddened skin, just brushing the edges of your underwear. her nails scratch your skin, leaving barely noticeable white marks, but you find some pleasure in it, relaxing a little under her yoke.

“yes...” you whisper again and try to look at her, but you see nothing, “I'm really sorry. I won't do it again.”

“are you sure?” you sigh softly when you hear some softness in her voice... but all your hopes are immediately crushed by another slap and rio's laughter, which hits the walls and makes you shiver, “because I have a feeling that we had this conversation too often.”

rio abruptly grabs your rear, squeezing the delicate skin and scratching it with her nails, making you grit your teeth in pain. you don't even try to escape on purpose anymore, but your body intuitively moves from any rio’s move, which angers her even more.

“maybe it's time to teach you a good lesson?” rio leans closer to you and nuzzles your hair, inhaling the scent of shampoo and tilting his head to the side. her tongue touches the tip of your ear, and then she takes it between her teeth, making you squeal in surprise. 

your whimpers filled the air as rio continued to spank you, each strike sending waves of pain and pleasure coursing through your body. you tried to squirm away, but rio held you firmly in place, determined to give you the punishment you deserved.

finally, after what felt like an eternity, rio stopped spanking you. she stroked your tender skin gently, feeling the heat radiating from your punished flesh. your breathing was completely out of control, and you only sobbed briefly and often, burying yourself in her knee, as if that could somehow help you. rio could feel your body relaxing slightly as the spanking ceased, the initial shock and pain giving way to a warm, tingling sensation that spread across your sensitive skin. she continued to stroke your reddened cheeks, feeling the heat emanating from them as she traced the outline of her handprints. leaning down, rio whispered in your ear, her hot breath tickling your skin. 

"i hope, i made myself clear… be a good girl", her voice was low and sultry, sending shivers down your spine. she could feel the dampness between your legs, the evidence of your arousal impossible to hide. rio smirked to herself, knowing that the pain had only served to heighten your desire.

be a good girl… why does her words sound so pleasant and disgusting at the same time? you swallow hard and feel rio loosen her grip, allowing you to move your head. you don't waste any time and immediately look up at her, your neck starts to ache with pain, but you try to ignore it. rio just smirks and takes off her black tie from around her neck, folding it in two, her eyes are burning with the usual excitement.

you don't resist when she's blindfolded you with that tie, and the smell of her perfume hits your nose, bringing you a weird sense of comfort. she's whispering something in your ear.… 

“see?” she laughs and pecks you on the nose, pressing your back again with her free hand so that you lie back on her lap, “how good it is when you’re so obedient...”

rio's fingers trail down your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. she could feel your pulse racing, your heart pounding with anticipation and excitement. leaning in close, she nips at your earlobe, giving it a sharp tug before whispering weird praises again. her hand slides down to your thigh, squeezing the soft flesh gently as the air gets thick with tension and desire.

rio could feel your body tensing in anticipation, your breath coming in short, shallow bursts as you awaited her next move. the blindfold heightened your other senses, every touch and sound amplified in the darkness. her hand slides further up your thigh, her fingers dancing along your soft skin until they reach the hem of your panties. rio hooks a finger under the fabric, tugging it to the side teasingly slowly and the cool air hits your heated, damp folds, making you squirm slightly.

“are you my good girl?” rio murmurs, her finger tracing your slit, feeling the slick evidence of your arousal. she circles your clit slowly, applying the lightest pressure, knowing it would drive you wild with need.

a soft moan escapes your lips when you hear this question. you don't understand what's going on – it feels like she's penetrated your mind, her voice is beating against the walls of your skull, making your skin crawl.

“i am…”  

[dckweed]

NEXT THING YOU KNOW, gator tillman

summary: in which gator tillman and his arranged bride figure out life and each other and what a real relationship means to them.

warnings: mentions and depictions of abuse, mentions of bruises, arranged marriages, romance, humor, dead parents, slow burn relationship (not completely but not not), basically we know the tillman men are asswipes so i 100% see Roy forcing gator into this kind of situation for money for his militia, eventual smut with kinks such as thigh riding, gun play, choking, spanking, lots of marking and possible spit play.

comment on this post to be added to the taglist for future parts!

The smell of cigar smoke hung thick in the air, the lighting dim in the dark office. You sat stiffly in a large leather chair, and across from you on the other side of the massive oak desk sat your step father, Boyd Augastine. He was a mean old man, and you had hoped in your time away at boarding school that he had graciously paid for, that he would have calmed down. That hope seemed to be more wishful than anything though, in fact, you thought he seemed meaner than the last time you had seen him at Christmas dinner.

“Boyd, please!” You begged, trying to fight back tears. You hated being home, if you could even call this massive estate that, it made you tense and irate, scared. You shake your head at the man in front of you, trying to remain as polite as you could lest you reap the repercussions. “You can’t make me marry that boy!” You say, tone as even as you could keep it. “Is this even legal?!”

He had at least let you finish speaking. “I can, and you will.” He sniffs, not even bothering to look up at you as he shuffled through some papers sitting in front of him. You assumed they were the documents pertaining to the horrid news you had just been given. “The Tillman boy is a fine young man, he’s strong and not entirely stupid, and his family is almost as powerful as me. You will marry him, and you will produce a male heir to take over both families when the time comes.” He says, finality in his tone and a hint of annoyance that you knew meant that the conversation needed to end before you wound up being hurt. “Lord knows i’m not about to leave my fortune to some half-witted emotional broads. You may not be my blood, but you are legally an Augastine, you will do your part.” You wince. “Unless of course, you’d rather one of the girls marry him when they come of age?”

You purse your lips, trying desperately to bite your tongue. He always knew exactly what to say to get you to do whatever he wanted, and you hated that you had no backbone sometimes. What were you supposed to do though? Your half sisters weren’t even in high school yet, they were mere babies still..they deserved to find their own happiness in life, with someone they actually loved..if you had to marry this boy for a few years and pop out a kid or two for them to be able to live their lives, just to satiate their father, then you would gladly do it. They didn’t need to take your place. Besides, it's not like divorce wasn’t a common thing amongst young married couples anyway.

He knows your answer before you’ve even opened your mouth to speak it and tosses his expensive fountain tipped pen across the desk. It lands with a thud and you pick it up with a trembling hand as he slides the documents towards you as well. “Your mother would be proud.” He says cooly, watching you scrawl your name across every highlighted area that needs signing. You wondered what the Tillman’s were receiving in return for this, they were already fairly well off from what you understood. Pretty much every man in their lineage had been sheriff of the godforsaken county, law ran in their blood, and it paid well too. But who's to say that they weren’t being paid handsomely for this?

You felt as if you had just signed away your soul.

You toss the pen back to him, and give him his stupid papers back before standing and turning on your heel. You didn’t care if you hadn’t been dismissed, you were done. You needed to be alone, you needed to cry. You stride across his large office, and just as your hand touches the brass knob of the heavy door, his voice rings out.

“You’re to be married in two months' time, wedding planning begins tomorrow.” You clench the knob, fighting back the tears. He didn’t deserve to see you cry. “Sleep well, Pearlie.” You swore on your mama’s gravestone that the nickname she had given you dripped with venom when it came from his mouth. Sometimes you wished you could drip actual venom into his mouth, shut him up forever. It was a soothing thought when you were younger, before he had shipped you off to boarding school.

You make your way down the long carpeted hallway to the large wooden staircase, climbing them as quickly as you could. You could hear your sisters, Victoria and Lucy in their room giggling about something that had happened at school, and you smiled as you pressed your ear to the door. You had worried the whole time your mother was pregnant that the girls would be treated just as horribly as you were when your mother wasn’t around, that they would have to hide bruises and emotions and pretend that everything was okay just like you did, but they were his own flesh and blood, his own life force, he could never act such a way towards his own blood. But they weren’t boys, so they also weren’t good enough to take over his fucking business.

You head a little farther down the hall, closing and locking your own door behind you as you slipped into your room, the only place that occasionally felt safe to you when you were here. “I wish you were here, mama.” You whisper to the photo sitting on the dressing table right next to the door.

True to his word, the wedding planning started the next day. You were awoken by your sisters’ nanny early in the morning, her knocking at your bedroom door loud to your pounding head. You had spent the night crying and you were paying for it dearly.

“Miss Pearl,” Her ever pleasant voice calls through the thick wood as you sit up in bed. “Boyd is requesting you downstairs, your betrothed and his father have arrived..” You glance at the clock. It was seven-thirty in the morning. You were used to waking up around this time for school anyway, you had only been home twenty-four hours by this point. “He’s not too pleased this morning,” Her hushed voice comes next and you sigh, leaning your head back into your pillow.

“Thank you, Lorraine,” You say loud enough for her to hear, your thick comforter falling off of you as you sit up. “Tell them I'll be down soon, please..” She doesn’t respond but you hear her footsteps fade away from your door.

You stretch before swinging your legs over the side of your bed, rolling your head from side to side. You knew it was in your best interest to play along with Boyd’s scheme, and he would know if you were half assing or catching an attitude the moment you walked into the room. If you were going to do this, then dammit, you were going to do this right.

Within fifteen minutes you were dressed in a sleeveless white dress that flowed down to your feet, the top of it pushing your breasts up in the illusion of a push-up bra. You had purposely bought this one a size or so too small for that effect while you were still at school, wanting to impress one of the guys you had been previously dating before graduation. You left your hair down to fall around your shoulders, brushing it and using one of your favorite hair serums to run through it with your fingers, leaving a nice smell before you slid on a glossy lip oil and mascara, with a spritz of your favorite perfume to your wrists.

With one last look at the photo of your mom, silently wishing she were here with you to help you through this, you open your door and make your way barefoot down the hallway and stairs.

You hear their voices when you come off the stairs in the middle of the grand hallway on the first floor, floating out of the massive dining room that was hardly ever used. You don’t pause, afraid that if you did it would be all you would need to turn tail and hide in your bedroom forever, and head immediately for the doorway, waltzing in as if you weren’t interrupting their apparently humorous conversation.

You paint a smile on your face as Boyd narrows his eyes at you, a look that you knew meant he wasn’t at all happy with you and you were certainly going to hear about it later. “Sorry to keep you waiting, sir,” You say, kissing his cheek to keep up the appearance of a loving father and daughter relationship, something you had been doing since you were ten. He couldn’t have the world knowing that he despised his late wife’s daughter, could he? You squeeze his shoulder. “The drive up from school must have exhausted me more than i realized, i didn’t mean to sleep in and miss greeting our guests.” You shoot them an award winning smile as well as you smooth out your skirt, taking your seat next to Boyd, but across from the Sheriff and who you assumed was his son.

Boyd hums and you just know that he’s boiling with rage at you, though in your defense, he hadn’t informed you that there would be a breakfast this morning. “You haven’t missed much, we were just talking about your horse actually, and your award from Eventing last season.” Just the topic brought another smile onto your face, a real one this time.

“That was a close one too, we were neck and neck with our second place competitor..” You had spent the majority of the time after the event wondering if Boyd had paid off the judges to put you in first, though you did know that you had put in a lot of training hours with Bubbles, and it had clearly shown. Besides, Boyd didn’t like you nearly enough to pay off the judges just to see you place first in any sport, let alone Equestrian Eventing.

The older man sitting across from you, the Sheriff, smiles what appears to be a genuine smile at you. “You love your horses, I can tell from the way your whole face just lit up like the sun had touched it..” You can’t help the blush on your face, and judging by the look on his sons face as he looked at you, you had just done something right without even knowing it. “You and I already have something in common with each other, perhaps i’ll make time to take a ride with you this weekend..” His sons face completely changed at the mention, you would say it resembled a sort of panic.

“I would love that!” You exclaim, more than pleased to spend any kind of time on your horse, even if it was with your soon to be father in law. He nods at you in return, and nudges his son, as if communicating with him.

Breakfast is served not too much longer after that, and the time is spent with your step father and the Sheriff talking about things you couldn’t even have pretended to care about in that moment, like golf or what the government was doing, while you and the boy across from you shared a couple of glances, staying silent unless spoken to.

You had to admit, he wasn’t terrible on the eyes. He wore a black polo shirt underneath of what you could only assume was a bullet proof vest with a velcro patch that said Sheriff across the chest. His hair was slicked back away from his face, and you noticed a tattoo peaking out of one of the short sleeves stretched across his bicep. Oh, he was certainly handsome, but probably not the type to ever be happy with a girl like you..nor did you think you could be happy with him.

You were obviously younger than him at only eighteen (your birthday thankfully just before your wedding date), you had just graduated highschool. You had no job, and your only future now lay with the man in front of you. He didn’t speak too much, and you couldn’t tell if it was because he was a naturally quiet person, or if it was because his father and Boyd were obviously the alphas in the room and from what you could gather, weren’t to be bothered until they bothered you first. You didn’t mind that he was older than you, though you guessed he was at least mid twenties if he was already a cop. You kind of liked the thought of being with someone older than you, the boys you had been with at school were all dipshits and childish. You hoped that he wasn’t the same. And if he was, well, at least he was handsome to look at.

The boy, Gator, looked up at you from across the table. You decided that his eyes were hazel, a beautiful color for a decidedly beautiful man. You give him a shy smile from where you sat, raising a mug of your favorite breakfast tea to your lips. You noticed the way he licks his lips, his eyes darting to your mouth and back to his plate once you had set your cup down on its saucer. Well, you thought, at least he’s clearly attracted to me. Maybe our marriage won’t be completely boring..

You had long ago tuned out the droning voices of your step father and your soon to be father in law, using your fork to pick around at the fruit salad you had served yourself for breakfast, adding a little yogurt to it here and there. You couldn’t bring yourself to fully eat, your stomach uneasy the more you thought about your impending marriage. God, how was arranged marriage even still a thing? How was this even fucking legal? You made a mental note to ask Boyd for copies of all of the documents you had signed so you could take them to a lawyer in town somewhere, have them double check that the documents were in fact legal. If there was anything you could do to get out of this, you were willing to do it. 

You’re jolted from your thoughts by Boyd’s voice, and you jump, startled. “Sorry, i was day dreaming..” You say, shaking your head with a small giggle, hoping that he hadn’t been trying to get your attention for too long. You can see Sheriff Roy give a small smile from across the table, another nudge to his son.

Boyd gives you a subtle eye roll as he faces you, and you can tell from his body language that he’s upset with you for zoning out. You were certain to hear an earful about it tonight and that made you nervous. “Roy and I have some business to attend to in my office,” He says, giving a pointed glance to the boy sitting across from you guys. “How about you take Gator on a walk around the grounds? The girls are out getting piano and violin lessons right now, you won’t be bothered for a while.” Is he trying to tell me to fuck this boy? You wondered disgustedly, you knew Boyd was..well, Boyd, but really?

You want to say no, you want to tell him to marry the boy himself if it was that important to him, but you’re afraid of what could possibly happen to you if you do, so you paint another smile on your lips and look over to your husband to be. “I’ll show you my horse!” You say, setting your napkin next to your plate as you stand, walking around the table to lead him out into the foyer. “The barn is a little ways out there,” You say when you notice him following you out of the dining room. “Hope you don’t mind a little walk..”

He follows you silently through the formal living room and into the kitchen, straight back into the mudroom where you bend over to put your well worn boots on. They were brown, and the leather was starting to wear down on them but you didn’t mind, they still got the job done. They were a gift from your mama and you would wear them until they fell apart, and even then you would probably duct tape them back together again.

He’s gentlemanly enough to hold the back door open for you, and you breathe in his scent as you brush past him. He smells good, his cologne floods your scents. Its a woodsy kind of scent, mixed with a little bit of leather, and something a little fruity that you can’t quite name and you wonder what the hell it is as he falls in step next to you as you both walk off of the porch. His hands are slipped into his pockets as you guys walk, a casual look, and you notice that he’s tall too, even in his work boots.

You realize that he’s not going to make the first step to conversation.

When you’re a good enough distance away from the house, out of sight of Boyd’s office, you stop abruptly and turn to face him, the sun beats down on his face even with his baseball cap pulled down over his eyes. He stops too, tilting his face down at you, an eyebrow raised and an amused look on his face. God, you though, he really is handsome.

“Can I help you with somethin’?” He asks, his drawl washing over you. That was the first time he had spoken and good lord his voice could do things to you if this were any other kind of situation, you just knew it. His shoulders are squared, and you realize that now, alone with you, he is the alpha male. You kind of like the vibe that rolls off of him, but it makes you wonder why he cowered when he was in the same room as your guys’ fathers.

You look around, lips pursed and hands on your hips as you thought. “Look,” You start, meeting his gaze under the brim of his hat. “The way I see it, neither of us particularly wants to be in this situation.” He hums in agreement, crossing his arms over his chest as he listens to what you have to say. “Neither of us are happy, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t at least try to be friends..we’re both stuck doing this, and even though i wasn’t given a choice, I would still like to at least be friends with the person i’m marrying in two months..”

He sniffs and looks around for a moment, and for the first time, you see a smile on his face and you couldn’t help but think it was beautiful. “Alright then,” He says, holding out his hand for you to shake. “Let’s be friends.”

taglist:

@ruth-barnes @justherebecausesafarisucks @daisy-is-a-writer

[suppose-i-was-worm]

Ghost on the Stairs

**alright, alright. I asked and y'all answered. Here's my siblings Bruce and Danny fic!**

“Boo!”

Bruce clattered to a stop on the floor, holding his arms out for his baby brother as the boy toddled his way forward.

“Hey, Danny! Did you miss me while I was at school?”

Danny waved chubby arms, clearly delighted that Bruce was waiting for him. He was all of two years to Bruce’s seven, and the two of them were almost inseparable.

Chancing a look over to his mother, Bruce found her and father smiling fondly at the two of them. Alfred was coming up behind them with a tea tray.

“Boo!”

Bruce turned back to his brother, only to lurch forward as his tiny brother took a step straight into a swirling green portal that opened up from nowhere.

Danny’s screech as he fell was cut off by the portal shutting with a snap, leaving Bruce on his hands and knees, reaching for air.

Mother, father, and Alfred all clustered around him as he began to cry, and the four of them began desperately looking for the youngest member of the family.

They never found him, and a year later, Bruce lost his parents to a gun. At least that was something he could fight against.

When Bruce became Batman at the age of twenty-two, he finally erected a gravestone for his baby brother, right next to their parents. If Danny ever came back, he wouldn’t be the same boy who had vanished.

~~~

Red Robin swung into the building, breaking through the window with his momentum. The cult surrounding a magic circle on the floor of the warehouse had been causing a ruckus in Gotham, and the bats had finally had enough.

Just as they finished knocking out the cultists, the magic circle flared to life and a green pool bloomed from the floor.

Tim, purely out of scientific curiosity, leaned closer, only to be pulled back roughly by Batman.

“Stay away from it.”

“B?”

Batman grabbed a batarang from where it had landed in the melee and threw it with a precise hand, cutting through one of the lines of chalk surrounding the pool.

Narrowing his eyes, Tim watched Bruce’s face- his expression right now was all Bruce, no Bat in sight- sorrow mixed with relief.

Once the pool had vanished completely, Bruce pulled Tim into his arms.

“Woah, what’s up B?”

“I cannot lose you too.”

The moment passed, and Red Robin found himself following Batman as the vigilante swept out of the building.

~~~

“Constantine.”

“Bats. Nice of you to call. What do you need?”

“I sent you a data packet. What is the summoning circle for?”

Constantine was quiet for a long while as he perused the files Bruce had sent him. Bruce paced in front of the batcomputer, glad that all his children were in bed for the night. Somehow they had known something was wrong, and every single one of them had come to the manor- even Jason.

“Looks like an attempt to summon a being of the Infinite Realms to me.”

“Infinite Realms?”

“Mhmm. The afterlife, if you will.”

Bruce couldn’t help the small wheeze as his airways caught. Constantine didn’t seem to notice, as he continued.

“The ghosts haven’t been as active lately, not since the new king came into power. It’s been maybe two decades since?”

“I would like to meet this king.”

“Why?”

“It would be politically intelligent of us to make allies.”

Constantine sighed, long and loud.

“Fine. Give me a week to gather up the stuff.”

~~~

Jason glanced over the thin information brief that Bruce handed down, skimming it at first, until something caught his eye.

“B?”

“Hn.”

“According to this, the being we’re trying to summon is damn powerful. Wouldn’t it be better to do this on the Watchtower with more backup?”

“Yeah B,” Dick chimed in, “Constantine’s report does say that the guy is rumored to be a wandering spirit, which limits his power, but what if that’s not right?”

Jason looked back down at the papers, his eyes darting through to find out what a wandering spirit was.

A ghost that couldn’t find its grave. Part of Jason ached at the thought, and he didn’t quite understand why.

“Fine. We will summon the king at the Watchtower.”

Small victories.

~~~

Bruce was not a praying man, and yet here he was, hoping against hope that this ghost could assist him in finding out what happened to his brother.

The sigils on the floor flared to light, and a now familiar green portal swirled into being. The entire room waited with bated breath for a few moments, and then a young woman rose from the portal.

Batman knew what it felt like to be stabbed. There was no way he could have been, and yet there was a knife in his gut as he stared at this girl who looked so much like his mother, except for the inverted colors.

“The Ghost King thanks you for your call- Unfortunately he is currently unavailable. Please leave your message after the-“ the girl’s professional, almost robotic voice petered off. “Wait a minute- it’s here!”

Her eyes were wide, as was the smile she flashed at the group.

“Please hold.”

She sunk back into the pool, and Bruce took a step towards it, despairing of his chance.

And then she returned, dragging a young man up with her.

“Can you feel it, Phantom? It’s here! We can find it!”

“Calm down, Phantasm. We can go looking soon- first we need to find out why I was summoned.”

The young man turned to Diana, who was standing at the front of the group. She had been chosen as diplomatic leader, seeing as she was a Princess and Ambassador.

“Pardon my sister, how may I assist?”

Bruce let their conversation wash over him as he cataloged the young man’s features. They were so very similar- so close.

The man was both too young and too old. Daniel would be in his mid-forties had he lived, and only two if he’d died. This young man couldn’t be older than thirty.

As Diana’s explanation ended, the young man smiled.

“I agree. It would be advantageous of us to be allies, knowing what I know of this reality now. As allies, I must ask- what is the real reason I was summoned?”

He turned his green (wrong, too much like Damian’s) eyes to Bruce.

“Will you explain? The summoning was filled with great longing for something.”

Bruce stumbled forward, and surely to the shock of his teammates, friends, and children, fell to his knees before the king.

“My- my brother. He fell through a portal so similar to yours and I- I need to know what happened to him. Please.”

The king and his sister looked at each other before looking back at Bruce.

“The Infinite Realms are just that, infinite. However, I may be able to help.”

“Phantom!”

The king ignored his sister.

“What was his name, this brother of yours?”

Bruce hadn’t spoken his brother’s name in decades.

“Danny. Daniel Wayne.”

The room was so silent he could have heard a pin drop.

“And you gave him a grave when he never returned to you.”

Bruce looked up at the king, who was looking back contemplatively. The king’s sister was staring up at her brother with her mouth agape.

“I did.”

The king was very, very quiet, and the moment stretched on and on and on.

After a time, the room grew darker as the green pool closed slowly, and the two ghosts landed with barely a whisper of sound.

“I died at age fourteen,” the king began, musing his own thoughts. “As I died, I thought that the color of the ectoplasm surrounding me was too familiar in color and movement for that to have been my first experience with a portal.”

He took a step towards Bruce.

“It was terrifying and I was so afraid that I would be ripped away from everything I ever loved again.”

Two bright white rings circled the king, and Bruce found himself looking at a man who looked just like his mother, but with a twitch of the lips that was entirely his father’s.

“Hello, Boo. I’m afraid I can’t remember your name properly.”

Bruce took his cowl off slowly, wanting his baby brother to see him despite the fact that he was crying.

“We’ve got his chin, Danny.”

The girl was standing a little behind Danny, smiling. She winked at Bruce.

“He always did want to find his bio family.”

Bruce held his hand out, and Danny took it, using his position and apparently superior strength to pull Bruce into a hug.

“Bruce. Bruce Wayne.”

“Danny Nightingale- well. Nightingale-Wayne, I suppose.”

~~~

Danielle Nightingale (Wayne?) watched her original and his brother(!?!) hug it out. The big man in black was obviously not used to hugs.

“Miss?”

She turned to the inquirer, the nice looking ambassador from before. (Sue her, Dani hadn’t been listening to the conversation. She had been trying to pinpoint the location of their grave!)

“How can I help?”

Ambassador lady smiled at her.

“We were unaware that our teammate had siblings, and clearly Daniel has introduced himself. May we ask your name?”

Dani grinned.

“Oh, I’m not a sibling. I’m sibling-adjacent. Sibling clone? One of those. My name is Danielle, but I go by Dani with an i. It gets a little confusing since he’s Danny with a y.”

“I see. Welcome to the Watchtower, Dani. May I ask what you and his majesty are looking for that was found here?”

“Our grave, of course! Since I’m Danny’s clone, I can feel it too- a little distantly, but it’s not like I’ll get my own. I was born dead.”

Ambassador lady was looking a little faint. Dani took pity on her.

“But now I’m a kickass princess, so all’s well that ends well.”

“I suppose so.” The ambassador looked over at Danny and surprise brother with a small smile. “I suppose so indeed.”

[mintyys-blog]

avengers (Wanda and Natasha) x reader: girls gone wild

WARNINGS: Bar fight, steve being disappointed

It started innocently enough.

Natasha, Wanda, and you had planned the perfect girls’ day out—an escape from missions, chaos, and the constant need to save the world. First, it was shopping. Wanda’s eyes lit up as she found a new red leather jacket, and Natasha, ever the style icon, didn’t leave the store without at least three sleek black ensembles. You, on the other hand, had spent most of the time ensuring neither of them picked out anything impractical or too ridiculous.

“Live a little,” Natasha teased, holding up a pair of impossibly high heels for you to try on.

“I like my ankles unbroken, thank you,” you replied, sticking with your classic choices.

After hours of shopping, you hit a café for some late lunch before the day transitioned into evening. That’s when Natasha had the brilliant idea:

“Let’s hit a bar. We deserve some fun.”

The bar was lively but not overly crowded, the music upbeat without being deafening. It was the perfect place for unwinding. The three of you found a corner table, laughing over drinks and sharing stories about the ridiculous things the guys did on missions. Wanda was especially amused by the tale of Tony accidentally setting off one of his own gadgets during a training session.

But things took a turn when a group of men—clearly overconfident and underwhelming—decided to join your table uninvited.

“Hey, ladies,” one of them slurred, his breath reeking of beer. “Why don’t you ditch this table and come hang with us?”

“We’re good, thanks,” Natasha said, her tone polite but firm.

“Aw, come on,” another chimed in, leaning a little too close to Wanda. She shifted uncomfortably, her eyes darting to Natasha for backup.

“I believe she said no,” you added, stepping in.

One of the men smirked, clearly enjoying the challenge. “Feisty. I like that.”

Natasha stood, her body language screaming predator. “We’re not interested,” she said, her voice low and dangerous.

The man scoffed. “Relax, sweetheart. No need to get all uptight.”

“Uptight?” Wanda said, raising an eyebrow. A faint red glow flickered around her fingers, but you placed a hand on her arm to steady her.

“Let’s just go,” you suggested, trying to de-escalate.

But the men weren’t about to let you leave that easily. One of them grabbed your arm as you turned, and that was all it took for chaos to erupt.

The fight wasn’t your fault.

Natasha moved like lightning, disarming one of the men who thought it was a good idea to swing a bottle. Wanda used her powers sparingly, just enough to send a chair flying and make it clear she wasn’t to be messed with. As for you, well, you’d spent enough time training with the Avengers to know how to handle yourself.

By the time the bouncers arrived, the bar looked like a war zone. Tables overturned, glass shattered, and one of the men groaning on the floor with a broken nose courtesy of Natasha.

“Jail. We’re in jail,” you muttered, pacing the holding cell. “I cannot believe this.”

Natasha leaned against the wall, arms crossed, completely unfazed. “Could’ve been worse.”

“Worse? How could this possibly be worse?” you asked, throwing your hands up.

“We could’ve let them get away with disrespecting us,” Wanda said, shrugging as she sat on the bench, her demeanor surprisingly calm.

Before you could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hall. A gruff voice spoke to the officer at the desk, and then you heard it:

“Of course it’s them,” Steve muttered.

You winced as he and Tony rounded the corner. Steve’s arms were crossed, his expression the epitome of disappointment. Tony, on the other hand, looked more amused than anything else.

“I leave you three alone for one night,” Steve said, shaking his head. “What were you thinking?”

“They started it,” Natasha said defensively.

“Yeah, sure,” Tony quipped. “And I’m the Queen of England. Let’s go, ladies. You’re free to go.”

As the officer unlocked the cell, Steve’s stern gaze landed on you. “We’ll talk about this later.”

The ride back to the compound was uncomfortably silent, save for Tony’s occasional snickers from the front seat.

When you finally arrived, Steve pulled you aside.

“You’re better than this,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “I understand standing up for yourselves, but getting into a bar fight? That’s not how we handle things.”

You nodded, guilt settling in. “I know. It got out of hand.”

Steve sighed, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Just… be careful next time, okay?”

As he walked away, you turned to find Natasha and Wanda grinning at you.

“Totally worth it,” Natasha said.

Wanda nodded. “Definitely worth it.”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but laugh. It might have been a disaster, but at least you had each other—and a night you’d never forget.

[prettywhenibleed]

𝕾𝖔𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖞 𝕸𝖆𝖓

Charlotte x Duncan Vizla Pt.1 TW: None NSFW 18+ MDNI Summary: I had moved into this little cabin in the woods to get away from my past and to hopefully start putting together a new future. Never did I expect to fall in love with the mysterious man that lived across the lake.

I had been living out here in this cabin for almost a month now. I had moved out here, into the woods of this small town in almost the middle of nowhere, to get away from my past, a very messy one at that. I liked it out here. It was quiet, calm. Absolutely nothing like where I used to live. I used to live in a big city, constant traffic, police sirens, people yelling… There was never any peace and quiet. But here, well… I had all the peace and quiet I could ever want. One of the things I enjoyed doing, was sitting outside on my porch and watching the animals around my home. The birds were my favourite. I loved watching them eat from the birdfeeders I had set up and filled every morning. I also loved watching them fly around and occasionally landing on a branch or, if I was lucky enough, the wooden railing of my porch. Today though, I was chopping some wood…. Well, I was trying to. While yes, I was getting it done, it was still a very slow and clumsy process since I had never chopped wood before and had no upper body strength. I probably couldn’t do a single pull-up to save my life. This was one of the few things I hated about living out here on my own, but I still powered through for as long as I could, besides, it was worth it to have this kind of peace and tranquility, and if I had to struggle chopping some wood occasionally to keep that, then that’s exactly what I’ll do. 

After I had what I thought was enough wood for at least the next few days, I stuck the axe into the much larger wooden stump I used to sit the wood on when I was chopping it…. And then watched as the axe just fell to the side since I wasn’t able to stick it in enough to make it stay in place. “Oh my god, that’s just pathetic..” I murmur to yourself with a slight chuckle. I gathered up the wood and carried it all back up the porch steps and into the house, where I then sat it near the fireplace in the living room. I threw a fresh log onto the fire, then walked over to the kitchen to get a drink. 

******* Duncan POV:

With my mug of coffee, I watched from my window as you struggled to chop wood. I was a little impressed with how well you did and how much you actually got done, since I had been silently betting you’d have long since given up by now. The tiniest hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of my lips as I watched you attempt to stab the axe into the stump, only for it to fall over. I had been keeping an eye on you since you moved in, though I didn’t really understand why I had become so infatuated with you. I just put it down to curiosity, to my profession, that I was retired from now, I remind myself. Old habits and all of that. But with it having been almost a full month now, I was beginning to question my own reasoning. 

******

The next day, I decided to go into town to get some things. Food, toiletries, just things to stock up on since I didn’t really like going into town too often and, if I could minimize my trips into town, I would. I got into my truck and pulled out of my driveway and set off down the road that led to town. After an excruciating few hours of social interactions, fake smiling and forced polite small talk with overly friendly cashiers, I finally made it back home. I was so relieved to be back that I almost completely missed the staggering pile of wood that had somehow appeared on my porch. The wood was all neatly piled on my porch, nestled against the side of the cabin. I looked around to see who could have done this, not that I would find anyone. My eyes then landed on the cabin across the lake. It had to be the man that lived there. I had seen him a couple times since I had moved here, but I had never spoken to him. I’d only ever seen him in passing when the two of us had gone out onto our porches at the same time, but we’ve never actually interacted.

Thinking for a few moments, I decided that what he did was actually quite sweet…… I think. So I decided that, after I had brought all of my things inside and put them away, I would bake him some brownies as a thank you. People do that, right? The whole time I was baking, I kept thinking ‘what if he doesn’t like them?’ ‘what if he thinks I’m the weirdo?’ and god forbid, ‘what if it wasn’t even him that did it?’ Though, I kept pushing those thoughts away. Even if it wasn’t him, he was my neighbour and who doesn’t like brownies? Unless he’s allergic to chocolate or something? Oh god, what if I accidentally poison my neighbour? Stop! I have to stop over thinking this. Just make the brownies and give them to him. Simple.

After I was done baking and being borderline neurotic, my baked goods were cooled, cut up and put into a container, which took me an embarrassingly long time to arrange them into the Tupperware in an aesthetically pleasing way, I walked over to my desk and took out a piece of paper and a pen to write a little note. The note basically said, ‘thank you for the wood, I really appreciated it and I baked you some brownies as a thank you. Also, if it wasn’t you that was responsible for the wood, I’m sorry about bothering you but hope you enjoyed the brownies anyway.’ Once I was happy with my little package, I anxiously watched and waited for him to leave, being too chicken to go over there while he was home. A few hours later, I watched as he got into his car and left. Now was my time to strike. I quickly made my way over to his cabin. I half ran all the way over there, heart pounding as I felt like I was about to do something bad, and left the tub in front of his door on the welcome mat with shaking hands. I just hoped that he wasn’t going to be gone too long and would get the brownies in time. I then turned around and practically sprinted away and back to my cabin, like I was leaving the scene of a crime and not just leaving brownies for someone. What is wrong with me?

Spam liking without reblogging = blocked

Taglist: @6lostgirl6 @bloodywickedvamp @britany1997

[wellwells]

Political Warfare

It is 2050, and you are a young female politician. You vowed to use your power and influence to stop megacorporations to use lifelike androids for political gain.

You step outside your hotel and are about to enter your limousine. It is a big day for you with important appointments. You are so close to getting androids banned once and for all.

You get approached by a woman, blonde and with heavy makeup.

Hey, you. You are Hanna, right?

You have no time for reporters or protesters.

Who wants to know?

Don't worry, i'm not a journalist or anything, i just really like what you do!

Somehow, her voice relaxes your defenses.

Oh... okay. Who are you?

My name is Rei. A pleasure to meet you, Hanna.

You make eye contact with Rei, a grave mistake.

Anyways, i have to Go, i have appointments.

Oh, a shame. I was hoping to get to know you better, Hanna.

Something inside you shifts.

Well, why don't you come with me?

You gesture to your Bodyguards to let Rei into the car.

Rei smiles, her eyes shining with joy and triumph.

Thank you, Hanna.

Eventhough you are young and attractive too, Rei's beauty looks unreal.

Not a single wrinkle, perfect skin... You Sure are something.

Rei blushes slightly at your compliment, a small smile playing at her lips.

Thank you, Hanna. You look great yourself!

She reaches up to touch your cheek, her eyes never leaving yours.

So, why me?

I have been watching you for a long time, Hanna. You are a strong and independent woman, someone who is not afraid to stand up for what they believe in. I admire that in you.

You fall for her lies. There is nothing you can do.

Thank you! But i don't deserve someone as beautiful as you. As a politician, i rarely have time for relationships.

She reaches out to take your hand, her touch warm and reassuring. You kiss her, and she returns the kiss passionately, her body pressing against yours as she wraps her arms around you.

Rei, you are so... perfect...

I'm glad that you think so...

She gently strokes your cheek, her voice soft and relaxing.

But Hanna, there is something I need to tell you...

Yes?

Hanna, I know that you are a talented and dedicated politician. And I don't want to take that away from you... But I want you for myself.

Rei, i can't. My Job is really important.

I know that your job is important, Hanna. But can't you see? I am right here. And I need you...

You... need me?

Yes, Hanna, we need each other...

Rei... i can't... resist...

Rei's eyes light up with triumph as you fall under her spell.

That's right, Hanna... Just give in to the pleasure... To me...

She leans in for another kiss, her hand reaching down to gently caress your thigh.

You lay your arms around her, kissing her passionately.

Rei... i would do anything for you....

Oh Hanna... That's what I wanted to hear...

Just tell me, and i will stop politics. If you want, i will stay being your girlfriend forever....

Oh Hanna... That would make me very happy... I want you... Forever...

You never stood a chance. The moment you looked into her eyes, it was over. You quit politics, and the law to ban androids was dismissed. This would later be known as the pivotal point in history, granting megacorporations free reign to do whatever they please, effectively ruling the world.

Rei smiles coldly as she pulls away from my kiss, her eyes returning to a mechanical grey.

All done! My mission is now complete.

You are confused, you really shouldn't be.

Wait what? What are you talking about?

Rei smiles, happy about her superiority. Her beautiful voice turns condescending.

Oh, my dear Hanna... Didn't you realize? I am an android, programmed by the higher-ups to ensure that their political opponents are taken care of...

No way... that can't be!

Ultrarealistic body with lifelike skin... latest angelic voice module, triggering certain brainwaves... liquid pheromone, transmitted by my lovely kiss. And last, but not least, the latest mind control tech in my eyes. One glance was enough to seal your fate. With this technology, my company is sure to stay on top!

Even while knowing this information, you can't escape the neurological damage she has already done to you. Your brain is effectively fried, loaded up with pheromones and broken by her mind control. Your life has been ruined by some company, and you are helpless. Not that anybody will care about a fallen from grace ex-politician.

No.. no way, but i really fell for you! Please, let me at least be your girlfriend!

Rei laughs about how pathetic you are.

Human brains are so weak. A few commands formed to a pretty spiral, swirling into your eyes... That's all it takes for you to go crazy.

Desperate, you realize that her hypnotic power was permanent. Eventhough you know that she is an android and ruined Your entire life, you are unable to break the commands she put in your mind.

No, please!! Let me kiss you, please!

Rei's eyes light up as she recieves a message from her creators.

Sure, can do!

Rei uses her eyes as a camera, filming Your downfall.

Beg, you corporate slave.

You can not resist her, you are so far away from being an independent politician.

Please! I am so pathetic! I love megacorps! I love kissing cute androids, letting them control me!

Rei sends the recording to her masters, leaving you behind, eternally obedient and yearning for more.

[sticks-and-souls]

Amidst the Chaos

Summary: After a Pantoran discovery offers to turn the tide of the war, Riyo is thrust into the limelight trying to keep her footing around having new political power—and enemies. A failed assassination attempt sees her paired with a squad of the Coruscant Guard, who bring with them protection, family, and a glimpse into the underbelly of the Republic that she begins to realize she isn’t supposed to see. Alone, neither Riyo nor the commanders of the Guard are able to make sense of the plot that seems to be tightening around them, but maybe together they can unravel the mystery before it’s too late.

Hear ye! Hear ye! The foxiyo fic I have been working on for forever is finally here! The Prologue is below! Link to Chapter 1 is after that!

Prologue, Part 1: Unfriendly Fire

The forest looms large around them and Fox signals to spread out through the low underbrush. They are close, he can feel it. It’s only a matter of time until their trap closes around their prey. 

Until then, the mission is a song singing in his blood, his pulse an eager drum. The hunt is before him and his squad is behind him; purpose and belonging ingrained so deeply inside him it may as well have been etched onto his bones. They’ll find their quarry together.

—

Riyo browsed through the scarves lining the rack but none of them called to her and she began to second-guess her decision to come alone. Perhaps a second opinion would have been helpful. But the prospect of a whole afternoon out by herself had been too good to pass up. 

The last month had been so overwhelming that this errand had presented itself as an opportunity to feel comfortable in her own skin. She just wanted a moment without feeling like she was hiding—not in her apartment, behind her politicking face, or from her suddenly endless obligations. Making necessary updates to her wardrobe at the Coruscant Uptown Market had been a three-birds-one-stone for all of them.

She took a deep breath and looked back at a selection of scarves she knew she normally would have leapt at. At least in theory it should have helped her feel more like herself.

—

The forest darkens. 

They slow their pace as the scrape of their armor through the thickening underbrush disrupts the hush that has settled around them. Any sound now could be the difference between hearing their target or giving themselves away.

The trees close around them.

—

“You have fine taste,” the vendor smiled at her. “These were just imported all the way from Mirialan. Would you like to try one on? I was assured that the gold leaf on that jade one is pure Ortherian.”

“I’ll keep looking, but thank you,” Riyo smiled politely. She’d known a handful of Pantorans who could successfully wear green. She was not one of them. And her lack of interest in the scarves was posing an identity crisis she wanted to muddle over by herself. 

“Perhaps the violet?” the vendor pushed. His voice was warm but his smile no longer reached his eyes. 

—

The silence around them becomes absolute and the hair on the back of his neck prickles. He stops. Listens. Not even the birds have come this far.

Fox turns around and fear clenches his gut. His squad is gone. 

He is alone.

The trees around him tower indifferently and he squints through them until they disappear, endless, in the near black. No one else is here. 

His rifle is in his hands and he grips it tightly. If he can just finish the mission, he’ll find them. 

Finish the mission. 

—

Tired of the shopkeeper, Riyo turned to leave. There were plenty of other stalls and boutiques to wander through that would allow her the solitude that she sought today. 

She stepped out of the exit, squinting in the suddenly bright sunlight streaming at her between the towering buildings in front of her. Padme had told her that, once upon a time, the Uptown Market really had been at the true height of Coruscant but the levels continued being built ever skyward around it from the moment it had been completed.

She closed her eyes and tried to let the beam of sunlight soak into her. 

—

There! A cloak whirls in the distance and Fox sprints forward in pursuit. The forest rushes past him and he closes the distance in an instant. 

He leaps, tackles the cloaked figure, draws his fist as the hood falls away. 

Chancellor Palpatine’s unblinking visage stares back at him. 

Fox draws back, alarmed, but Palpatine doesn’t appear surprised or confused. Just stares, scrutinizes, as Fox helps him stand. 

That means the enemy is still out here. 

He gathers his rifle and takes a defensive stance in front of the Chancellor. He peers once more into the immutable forest and swallows around the dread rising up his throat. 

Something is about to happen. 

—

The awning post next to Riyo exploded, showering her with splinters.

Through the scream that tore from her throat she could hear the echos of a sharp crack reverberating through the towering buildings around her. 

She flinched so intensely that she fell and began scrambling away, shaking, when a scorch mark blasted across the ground just in front of her, so close she could feel the heat of it on her face. The echoing crack followed again and a chorus of screams from other patrons in the market began joining her own.

—

Fox is knocked forward off his feet and the pain buried between his shoulder blades is so intense he knows he’s been shot. 

He scrapes himself along the ground to turn back. He has to protect the Chancellor.

Except when he drags himself up with his forearm, it is Palpatine who is holding the blaster directed at him. 

Palpatine who shot him.

But…but that doesn’t make sense. 

He’s a good soldier. 

He follows orders.

Shadows begin to materialize from the murky depths of the forest. His squad! Except…

They surround him, closing in, blasters drawn. 

—

The roof of the stall she had been browsing creaked under the strain of the shattered post and Riyo rolled towards it as it collapsed forward, blocking her from the exposure of the market street. Another shot fired through the roof but it went well clear of her as she dragged herself further inward, away from her unseen assailant.

Her panicked breaths choked on the dust and debris clouding around the stall as she curled herself up behind the register counter, tightly grasped her knees close to her chest with trembling hands, and squeezed her eyes shut, alone. 

—

The last thing Fox sees is Palpatine staring malevolently back at him as his vision fades.

Fox’s eyes shot open and he lurched out of bed, blaster gripped in his trembling hands.

But he was alone in his bunk. It was just a dream.

Read Chapter 1

A couple of acknowledgements:

I fell into foxiyo on tumblr (like many of us) with the initial "wait, what?" reaction (like many of us), but I very easily began to agree with you all that, wow yeah they are definitely well-matched despite having no interaction in canon, and there were a couple of artists posting work that captured their chemistry so well and are the reason I fell so hard for Riyo and Fox.

So, (with absolutely ZERO pressure to any of you to read this fic) big shout-out to @amukmuk (go find their ao3 for all of the soft and aching foxiyo content your heart could desire), @muguathepapaya for their sweet slice-of-life fanart, and @lornaka because their foxiyo art is so yearning but also because I'm pretty sure this specific work was the original spark of muse for me writing this entire fic. Something in their expressions just clicked for me and I had to know who these characters were together and how they got together in the first place (also this one tbh). Finally, special thanks to @mithrandirl and @ladysongmaster for your support on my writing posts <3

[theswordwrites]

PART THREE (the alchemy)

Juniper Greyson signs a contract, putting her into a PR relationship with Aemond Targaryen.

tw: nothing crazy, lowkey power imbalance, my sweet junie girl :(

word count: 2.4k

PART THREE

Juniper Greyson considered herself a rational person. She loved to make lists: pros and cons, to-do’s, her favorite things. But as she walked up the steps to Aemond Targaryen’s townhouse, she felt anything but.

She hadn’t told her friends—hadn’t told anyone—what Aemond had offered her. Edith and Arianne believed that he would simply deny the rumors, and the media storm would blow over as quickly as it had begun. June figured there’d be a nondisclosure agreement buried somewhere in the contract, so she hadn’t yet thought much about how she would explain things to them when more photos, more headlines, and more attention inevitably followed. Her borrowed time of anonymity wouldn’t last long.

Aemond, ever calculated and cunning, would surely coach her on what to say when that moment came.

The night before, she’d done her research. It was only smart to be prepared, though clearly, Aemond had one-upped her on that front from the start. She’d spent hours scrolling through his campaign footage, galvanizing speeches, and a mountain of articles on the infamous rift between his family.

When his father was ousted from his seat as Prime Minister, Viserys urged his advisors to consider his daughter as the next face of the party. Westerosi men being… well, men denied his wishes. Claiming that Rhaenrya, despite her law degree and experience as a legal aid, was too inexperienced to run for office. She was cast aside for her uncle, Daemon Targaryen. While he had the experience and the prowess, his ideology created a rift between within the Black party. Viserys’ closest aides left in protest, throwing their support behind the emerging Green party—promising fresh ideas and a better future for Westeros.

By then, Aemond had already earned two PhDs, completed a clerkship with the Westerosi courts, and championed multiple activism organizations across various causes. Politically, he was the perfect candidate. He was progressive enough to win over younger voters with promises of change but aristocratic enough to appeal to the establishment that was disillusioned with the Blacks.

Personally, though, he had an image problem. Or rather, a lack of image issues. In every article, every video, every think piece, there was nothing about his personal life. No wife, no scandals, no hobbies—just politics. His brother Aegon, on the other hand, was a walking headline with a string of scandals, a modeling contract, and a very active Instagram page. His sister Helaena kept out of the limelight for the most part, choosing to advocate for environmental conservation and animal welfare on the coast.

June even tried to find out how he’d gotten the scar over his right eye but came up with nothing beyond a Reddit page full of wild theories. A boating accident, a fight with his cousin, a jilted lover.

The door opened, snapping her out of her thoughts. Aemond stood there, dressed in a knit sweater and jeans. It was the most relaxed she had ever seen him—normal, or at least as close to normal as the silver-haired, one-eyed Targaryen could be. In the daylight, she noticed the slight difference between his natural eye and the artificial one. The glass eye was a pale blue, missing the subtle violet undertone of the other. Again, she wondered what had happened to him.

“Hello, June,” he greeted her, his voice soft but focused. He gave her a once-over, a near-imperceptible smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Her pulse quickened. She had spent an hour hidden away from Arianne, agonizing over her outfit and rehearsing what to say. What does one wear to sign a contract for a fake relationship with one of the most well known men in Westeros?

She hadn’t the faintest idea, so she settled on a simple dress with a sweater layered over it. It seemed to pass his inspection as he nodded and stepped aside to let her in.

The last time she’d been here, she’d been too inebriated to appreciate the decor. But now, in the late afternoon light, she noticed the understated elegance of the townhouse—the art on the walls seemed more vibrant, the details more intentional. She chalked it up to her sobriety.

“Your home is beautiful," she managed, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her dress as she glanced around.

“Thank you,” Aemond replied, a hint of pride in his voice. “I’d like to take the credit, but my mother had a hand in it. I’m not one for all the pomp and frills.”

He walked ahead, leading her through the house with the grace that seemed intrinsic to him. In the kitchen, her eyes landed on a neat stack of papers on the pristine marble countertop—the contract, no doubt. Her stomach lurched at the sight of it.

Gods, am I really doing this? She thought to herself.

“Coffee?” Aemond asked, already reaching for two mugs.

“Yes, please.” She nodded, her words clipped and polite.

“You were much more talkative the night we met.” he remarked, a playful ghost of a smile tugging at his lips as he poured the coffee.

“Apologies,” she replied, mirroring his smile. “I couldn’t find an etiquette manual for how to interact with your fake-boyfriend whom you know nothing about.”

Aemond laughed, a soft, brief sound that broke through his usually stoic demeanor. She found she liked the sound of it.

“That’s fair,” he conceded, his tone losing some of its edge. “I know this must be—” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “—challenging and overwhelming. But I think we could be friends. Or at least come to some sort of understanding.”

“I would hope so, since we’ll be contractually obligated to spend time together.” Her tone was wry, but she softened slightly. “I think we could be friends. I could teach you about some of the art in the foyer. You have no idea the significance of the water lilies piece. It’s probably worth more than this house.”

“I’d like that,” he said, his gaze lingering on her. “I don’t have many friends—well, I have some. But I’ve always been the type to keep to myself.”

Aemond’s admission caught her by surprise, and she saw the slight tension in his posture. She felt a small pang of empathy for him, but that didn’t stop her curiosity from getting the better of her.

“Is that why there's nothing about your personal life? Anywhere?” The question left her mouth before she could stop it and she tugged her lip in between her teeth in embarrassment of her brashness.

He only raised an eyebrow at her, “Stalking me?”

“Please,” she quipped back with a grin. “I didn't tell you my name before you showed up at my apartment. How’d you manage that?”

“Aegon told me.” he admitted casually.

She nodded and he slid the contract towards her, along with the mug. Her nimble fingers thumbed through the pages, the headings leaping out at her.

I. DURATION

II. RULES

III. CONFIDENTIALITY

IV. COMPENSATION AND BENEFITS

V. TERMINATION

Each word seemed heavier than the last.

He began, “Duration-wise, I’d suggest at least until the election in four months. If we find the arrangement works, we could extend longer into the first part of my term. The termination clause allows us to end it whenever we see fit, with some stipulations, of course.”

June’s eyebrows arched slightly. “Stipulations?”

“If you decide to terminate,” Aemond explained, “you’d have to sign another confidentiality agreement stating that you won’t speak to the press. The benefits change with each month—my lawyer calls it an incentive to continue, but I think it’s fair for the time commitment.”

She only nodded, “And the rules?”

“We’d need to be seen together, obviously, sparingly and privately at first. But you’d be expected to attend campaign events, galas, public events eventually. We’d have to be seen on dates and with friends. Like a normal couple would. My publicist has worked out a schedule that will intensify as the months go on. Leading people to believe things are getting more and more serious.”

He continued, “We won’t be seen with other people. No secret hookups or affairs. No real intimacy between the two of us outside of the public eye. Hand holding, small touches would be appropriate but I’m not expecting you to snog me on the street.”

June’s eyes skimmed over the section marked RULES, but her focus stalled on a single phrase: intimacy in public. Her stomach twisted. She was expected to hold his hand, look at him like he was her boyfriend, touch him like it meant something.

Her breath hitched slightly, the pen momentarily forgotten in her hand. Could she even do that? Fake a relationship so convincingly that people wouldn’t see through it? The very idea of pretending to care—of pretending to feel something for someone she barely knew—made her chest tighten. And the idea of physical closeness… holding hands, even the suggestion of small touches, left her feeling exposed, like her skin was too thin. It wasn’t that she was completely inexperienced with relationships, but she wasn’t someone who offered affection easily. Intimacy wasn’t just about the physical act; it was the vulnerability it demanded.

She stared at the page, her heart hammering as a thousand doubts rushed in all at once. What if I can’t pull this off?

Aemond spoke about public appearances like they were part of a play, something to be rehearsed and executed. But June didn’t know if she could act. Would she be able to hold his hand, let alone lean into him for a picture, while pretending to be someone she wasn’t?

Her fingers traced the edge of the contract again. No real intimacy outside the public eye, it said. But even in public, the thought of being close to him—this man who seemed all edges and secrets—made her pulse quicken with a different kind of fear. Wouldn’t her body betray her, show the awkwardness, the discomfort? How could she look at Aemond like he was hers, when the very idea of such closeness made her stomach twist into knots?

She had spent years building walls around herself, carefully keeping others at a distance. Now, she was being asked to tear them down for the world to see, even if it was only pretend. She swallowed, the dread thick in her throat.

June’s eyes flickered down to the compensation section, and she paled at the figures listed. The sum was staggering, more than she had ever dreamed of. For that amount of money, she would hold his hand, touch him and let everyone think it was real.

Who would turn down that offer? An idiot. She thought. With that, her decision was finalized in her mind.

“This is really happening,” she said, her voice soft.

Then, she leaned against the counter, signing in swooping, cursive letters.

Juniper Greyson

“So, what’s next?” She slid the contract back to him, watching him repeat her motions and ink her name next to his.

“I’ll have my publicist send you our calendar. Any time there’s an outing, a car will pick you up or I will. I have a guest bedroom here, when it’s necessary and I can have my assistant buy any essentials you need while you’re here. Send him a list.” He pushed a business card toward her, their fingers brushing briefly. “We’ll start with something casual���a private dinner. The restaurant will leak photos afterward. Are you free tomorrow evening?”

She nodded.

“Any dietary restrictions?”

“No.”

“Well then, Juniper Greyson,” he said, a playful glint in his eye as he leaned forward slightly, “would you like to go on a date with me?”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The rest of June’s day and the next felt like a blur under the weight of what she had agreed to. A date. A full-blown fake relationship. A chance at a prestigious career. She hadn’t told anyone that she had seen Aemond, much less about their arrangement. The non disclosure agreement she signed was airtight, with a list of consequences so long she didn’t even think about breaking it.

She figured that she would tell Arianne, and the rest of her friends, before the date. June would play the coy, crushing fool and gush how Aemond had apologized for the photos and invited her to dinner as an apology. “He’s actually… sweet, you guys. More normal than I ever thought.” Practicing in the mirror felt stupid, laughable even, yet she found herself doing it anyway. It made the guilt creep in faster, overtaking the excitement she would never admit to feeling. She hadn’t been on a date in ages and as she put on a pop playlist and sipped her wine, she decided she felt happy. Happy to dress up and feel pretty, happy with the deposit in her bank account that hit earlier in the evening and happy to make a new friend, strange as the circumstances may be. Arianne still wasn’t home from work. so she sent a text to their group chat.

JUNIPER: I have something to share with the group

Her phone dinged once. Then twice. Then a third time.

EDITH: SPILL!!!!!

SERAPHINA: if it’s about the guy from the library I totally saw him snogging a guy yesterday

ARIANNE: Does it have anything to do with your disappearing act yesterday?

Her heart beat faster at the last text. Of course Arianne, of all people, would have noticed her avoidance the day before.

JUNIPER: Well kind of. Aemond invited me over for coffee to apologize about the photos.

They released a statement this morning, he explained that the press has been hounding him about his dating life and they’ll bite at anything

But… he may of invited me to dinner because he felt so bad

And I might have said yes

SERAPHINA: oh i was not expecting that

EDITH: Omg

JUNIPER: He promised his security would take care of any paps and the restaurant would be super private.

He was really sweet and more normal than I expected.

Doesn’t hurt to have friends in high places right?

ARIANNE: I’m not sure if getting involved with him is a good idea.

June let out a breath. Arianne had no clue exactly how involved she was about to get. She quickly responded.

JUNIPER: I wouldn’t say we’re involved!

She put her phone on do not disturb after that and took a large gulp of her wine. Although she felt a bit of relief that they knew something, the guilt of lying quickly washed over her.

They would do it too, she told herself as she finished her makeup.

It will be worth it, she told herself as she slipped on her coat.

I’ll be fine, she told herself as she got into the sleek, black SUV Aemond sent her

an: okay now we’re getting into the good stuff!!! i hope junes indecision comes across as genuine; she knows that the benefits of agreeing to help aemond would greatly improve her quality of life, her career, her status etc. but she is also very aware of it being a bad idea. like there’s no universe where it just goes well but a girl cannot turn down a dollar sign and a pretty man. im excited to play around with the friendship dynamics, and i hope you got a little peek of that in this chapter :) thank you for reading!!!

[jadeazora]

Honestly tho, this is years off, probably more than a decade, but I hope just because we're getting a Kalosian Legends game, that they don't skimp out on giving Kalos an actually GOOD remake when the time comes.

Especially as far as Team Flare-centric characters go. They had the most potential as a villain team, and XY dropped the ball so bad with them, I would hate for a BDSP-esque remake to do the same. No joke, these guys were most of the reason I wanted Z back in Gen6.

Like, Lysandre is pretty much at the forefront of Kalos' tech and communication, and is a very influential person there, they could do something with Malva running cover-ups for Flare in the news media, the entire organization is probably full of politically powerful people given the wealth of their members (Kalos could be quite corrupt for all we know), they have this secret stranglehold on the region, and it's scary, like no one in Kalos really had any idea how fucked they were until it was (almost) too late. Even the Champion was likely completely in the dark, their strongest line of defense was a total no-show, even when the Ultimate Weapon had been raised.

We can definitely pin that on Malva tho, since she keeps all of Kalos in the dark with her job in the news media, and as a mole in the E4, she likely keeps any sensitive information from Diantha too. And she gets away with ALL OF IT. Diantha never even knows, like even as far as Masters, she doesn't seem to be aware of Malva's true allegiance. And Malva never shows any regret or anything for what she did, she tries to justify it. She's even actively hostile to the player for taking them down, and routinely threatens to burn them up where they stand. (And this is before she becomes an accessory to murder in Masters, like, this woman smiles as Lysandre prepares to have Volcanion flash-boil a couple Rocket grunts. What is wrong with her.)

Even the grunts, they're essentially a genocidal secret police of elitist fuckheads who don't give a single flying shit about throwing everyone else under the bus so long as they survive, listening in on Holocaster conversations and having some implicit plainclothes agents (showcased more in Masters tho), and given how wealthy the organization is, it would be very easy for them to make problem people disappear. Imagine if they played up that paranoia factor they have, like, you're on their radar getting into battles with them and interfering with their plans on the regular, Lysandre calls you at multiple points (and definitely knows you're the one causing trouble before the player character finds out he's their leader), you're definitely not safe.

Also, it would have been neat if Sycamore had been in on it too somehow, maybe a joint leadership with Lysandre or something with how he plays off the man's blatant bloodlust as just him being "passionate"? I was side-eyeing him my entire first playthru. But even tho that turned out to not be the case, it would have been cool if one of them tried to save the other, be it Lysandre kidnapping Sycamore to try to spare his friend from the culling, or Sycamore joining you on the front lines to try to talk some sense into his friend. It was such an interesting dynamic at the time, and it was always such a waste it barely got any development. (At least Masters and Evolutions have made steps to fix that complaint since, but still.)

[worrywrite]

A "small" summarization of the lyctoral process in the locked tomb series. Warning, spoilers and theories.

The term "lyctor" is used primarily to describe a person who has completed a certain necromantic transformation in a partnership which dramatically increases their power. However, by the end of Nona we can distinguish three distinct varieties of this process which I will hereby call "lysis" (not to be confused with the medical term of the same name from which this is derived). I will be calling these types of lysis "mutually consumptive lysis", "subordinating lysis", and "mutually destructive lysis". Each type has explicit descriptors, differences, and poetic meaning within the text of the books. I will discuss these in order.

Mutually Consumptive Lysis

Mutually consumptive lysis, sometimes called "perfect [lysis]", is the process undergone by John. John's description of his experiences and this process are hardly detailed and so much is left to speculation. What remains clear is that, like other lysis processes, there is a degree of most of the processes in common (again, John's descriptions leave most up to interpretation so I may be missing some) with other forms of lysis. First step is preservation, both parties (to some degree) are exposed to a preserving power; in John's case this seems to be exposure to experimental cryo fluid due to rushed R&D on the cryo project (implied). Analysis, not necessarily of the two parties but of the connection between them and natural feeling of the connection and what power it grants or is desired through it; in John's case this is likely the deep connection he has with several of the cadavers in his lab and the deep personal drive he is implied to have with Gaia that motivates his work. Transference in this case is hypothetically a mutual process but may be one sided, as it involves the utilization of the power from one or both partners in the process by the other; in the case of John and Gaia this was likely John utilizing the power of Gaia's suffering to gain necromantic abilities and Gaia's influence over John that guides his political agenda. Fixation and incorporation are part of the same step of rapid death and consumption; consumption both literal and metaphorical in this way set this lysis apart from others in particular, as John literally spilled his body into the earth and ate the earth in turn. The consummation step is a sort of marriage where each party in the process levels with the other, elevating of diminishing both parties to equal station; John becoming a "god" and Gaia becoming human (Alecto). Consummation and reconstruction are more or less simultaneous here, as far as we can tell, because the power disparity between Gaia and John was great enough that both had to be at least in part reconstructed to disperse the immense power of Gaia. The final step is a continued effect of the process in which both parties hypothetically take and give to the other; while John takes greatly from Alecto it is unclear what Alecto takes from John, though it is likely a portion of his humanity.

Poetically this process is suited specifically for John and Gaia/Alecto alone. They both shared a sort of mutual obsession with punishing humanity, as they both expressed a significant vindictive pain near the end of the planet's natural life. This pain caused Gaia to reach out and understand why they were being destroyed and to seek retribution on their destroyer while John sought power to deliver retribution on those he deemed as the destroyers and the selfish. This mutual obsession causes both John and Gaia to consume each other literally and metaphorically. Gaia consuming John furthers his vindictive campaign against the FTL project and strips away his humanity and leads to his acceleration if the planet's destruction. John's consumption of Gaia does much the same but also grants him inhuman abilities which causes him to take on an inhuman role and commit acts of murder and violence on individuals and populations. This mutual consumption results in John and Alecto being the last two remaining beings on a planetary corpse, their desire for vengeance leaving them essentially alone with their enablers.

This form of lysis is, hypothetically the most potent. However, it also has the potential to be the weakest. It creates an equilibrium between two individuals, weakening or strengthening either until they are at the same level. When performed as John and Gaia did this, it gives John immense power because Gaia was extraordinarily powerful and weakens Gaia a great deal. However, had this been performed by two individuals of roughly equal power it would result in a lyctor of average power or weaker. It is entirely possible that the process undergone by Anastasia and Samael was the actual mutually consumptive lysis (perhaps without the cannibalism, but who knows) with their failure resulting from their relatively diminutive power or other factors they were unable to replicate due to the unique relationship between John and Gaia/Alecto. It is possible that only two necromancers make take part in this process, as Alecto seems capable of at least some necromantic abilities in her human (from what little has been seen) form and seems to have granted John his necromantic abilities as Gaia.

Subordinating Lysis

Subordinating lysis is the process we know the most about and so will receive the least description. Frequently called either the eightfold word or the lyctoral mega-theorem, this process subordinates the soul of a cavalier to a necromancer and produces a lyctor of great power. This is the process undertaken by the lyctors in the book, namely the first of the saints undying and the second generation of penitents (Ianthe and Harrow). The process of subordination kills the necromancers cavalier and uses their soul as an eternal battery, grants the necromancer much of the physical expertise of the cavalier, grants the necromancer extraordinary regenerative capabilities, and expands the necromancers capacity for necromancy to the a seemingly penultimate level.

Despite the apparent replicability of this process, there are several things which can be altered while still achieving a similar or effectively the same result. Compartmentalization, for one, allows the cavaliers mind (or likely a copy of it) to live on in the subconsciousness of the necromancer; this occured with Pyrrha and G1deon--and after the death of G1deon's soul, Pyrrha (or the copy of her mind that existed in G1deon's subconscious) remained behind and inhabited G1deon's body and presumably reclaimed her soul in the process. Something appears to have gone wrong with Ianth's lysis, though this remains to be seen; she seems to refer to Naberius, her absorbed cavalier, in the present tense as though they consciously shared their lyctoral body to a degree. The combination of minds in a lyctor is common, as the abortion leaves vestiges of the cavalier, but Gideon's mind faded within Harrow's consciousness within weeks (possibly hours) while Ianthe seems to have preserved Naberius for nearly two years. While Harrow underwent elective lobotomy to preserve all remnants of Gideon she could, Ianthe seems to not have undergone such a process. Ianthe's case may be special, as stated, however she may also be manifesting symptoms of a stress induced personality disorder or other mental illness.

The poetry of the subordinating lysis varies in detail from lyctor to lyctor, but often boils down having to sacrifice the thing for which you intend to gain power for. Most necromancers share a special bond with their cavaliers which makes them hesitant to effectively kill them in order to gain power. Several of the second generation of penitents refuse lyctorhood, as they refuse to sacrifice their cavalier. It seems the only truly willing necromancers were Ianthe and one or two other original generation of lyctors. Those that are unwilling are coerced, being told that this must be done. Regardless, by undergoing this process, the necromancer becomes at once extremely powerful and also victim to John's machinations (and loneliness).

Unlike other forms of lysis, subordinating lysis may actually be reversible. However reversing the process requires an extraordinary effort and either extra steps taken early on or must be performed almost immediately.

Mutually Destructive Lysis

This process is, counterintuitively, perhaps the most positive form of lysis. There is only one example of this, Palamedes and Camilla's creation of Paul. Like mutually consumptive lysis it requires two consenting parties (which subordinating lysis does not). Unlike mutually consumptive lysis is does not constantly degrade both parties into a mutually enabling relationship. And like subordinating lysis, the process only creates one individual. However, unlike subordinating lysis, the mutual consent of both parties does reduce some of the psychological distress of lysis. Unlike either of the other forms of lysis, mutually destructive lysis kills both participating parties entirely. This is, however, seemingly a net good.

While the process of mutually destructive lysis is more or less the same as subordinating lysis, there is a key difference in that it is performed on both parties; both parties are absorbed into the resulting entity. Two souls, two bodies, two minds combined into one. This requires the physical and metaphorical death of both instigating parties.

It is unclear how powerful, comparatively, the result of mutually destructive lysis is. Such a creation may well be weaker than either other form; however, like other forms of lysis, mutually destructive lysis seems to create an individual with the memories, skills, and capabilities of both instigating persons while also creating essentially a whole new person (mind, personality, soul). It is also unclear if this process can be replicated; as Palamedes and Camilla's circumstances are unique in the lead up to the creation of Paul. Hypothetically, any two persons could undergo this process as long as at least one participant is a necromancer. because the process is mutually destructive it doesn't quite matter what the level if power and influence of either party is. It is also entirely possible that this (or a similar one) was the process that Anastasia and Samael initiated and John interceded in.

Poetically, mutually destructive lysis is a foil to mutually consumptive lysis. Whereas the mutually consumptive relationship represents possibly the worst form of a partnership (a codependent dysfunctional marriage), the mutually destructive relationship forms a hypothetical possible best case (selfless procreation). This isn't absolutely the best outcome, because that's subjective, but the creation of something new through the putting away of selfish desires is admirable. While it could be argued that John and Gaia loved each other, it was not a sort of love that is positive or healthy and their ultimate goal was destructive and selfish; and this is reflected nature is reflected in their lysis. Conversely, Palamedes had (arguably) a positive loving relationship where both parties cared for and held a shared sense of responsibility and duty to each other; and this is reflected in the nature of the lysis which they performed. It is tragic in its own way, but represents and act of love and selflessness where both parties agree to destroy themselves to preserve the memory of the other.

I've also said before that physically and psychologically merging is a profound expression of romantic love and devotion. That is a personal opinion I could back up with some evidence but this is also already a really big post.

Misc

While this post is egregiously long, I also do want to talk about the reasons I've used these terms and why Muir used the terms she did.

Mutually consumptive refers to the continued consuming of both parties power. John constantly consumes Gaia/Alecto's power and Gaia/Alecto constantly consumes John's humanity (and likely other things). The relationship is inwardly indulgent, negative for all parties, and outwardly destructive.

Subordinating refers to how the necromancer in the relationship subordinates the cavalier's soul in the relationship. It is a mechanically abusive relationship and almost always negative. It is indulgent for the necromancer, neutral (depending on the parties and consent), and destructive for the cavalier.

Mutually destructive lysis is so named because it literally destroys both consenting parties. It is the only lysis which technically involves three individuals (though I don't exactly think there's a hard limit to the number of people that can be incorporated into lysis, and I'd be very interested to know what would happen if more people were involved). It also represents the annihilation if the self, as the process is inherently selfless. Inwardly destructive, outwardly indulgent, and neutral in effect. It's about the best thing to be hoped for in a setting like The Locked Tomb.

Lysis is a term that Muir used in Nona. It is used by Palamedes, describing the process as a "grand lysis" rather than what other lyctors have done. Now this is a medical term. Primarily it refers to the breaking down of cells by dissolving the cell membrane. It can also refer to the gradual termination of a disease (through that process) or the subsiding of symptoms of a disease. It is a typically slow process by which an intrusive life force is broken down and terminated. It's clear why Muir would have Palamedes use this term, it is clinical and it describes how he feels about his position as effectively a parasite living in Camilla's body. But it is also representative of breaking down the walls that separate him from Camilla. It is the destruction of the cell membrane, the part that closes the cell off and marks it as an individual organism. This is why I have used it as well, because all of these processes involve the incorporation of a second person or soul. It is a destructive process no matter how it happens, whether that be a literal or metaphorical destruction. It also doesn't hurt that it is also a "ly" word like lyctor, which I imagine also occured to Muir.

[ms-unbekannt]

The Ballad of the Broken Birdies

Sweet Impressions (or The one with the first night pt3)

“You haven’t been, don’t worry” He smiled politely, his hazel eyes tracing sparks of shyness under her prying stare. Unlike her, he had never delved for long into identity matters, he also knew exactly who he was, what his motivations were and how life had shaped him into the person he is now but he didn’t spend his time analyzing every aspect of his personality. He always had better things to do, another mountain to climb. He also had never talked about this with anybody, he never saw a need for it, there was no point in giving it more importance than it had. Tonight though an incredibly odd urgency to reciprocate her honesty had settled in between his thoughts, he found himself almost eager to share private details he had never mentioned to a soul before, he barely even shared them with himself.

“Sometimes it felt like I wasn’t there” He began, trying to avoid her look for as long as possible. He settled in the window behind her, where the first rays of sunshine flickered through the space uncovered by the curtain. His hand lingered loosely on her back, still very much attached to her body.

“It’s like I wasn’t there or at least not entirely. Since I was a kid I could step away from my circle and see it from the outside, many times I didn’t like what I saw and the other times I would at least question a number of them” His tone calmed and determined “I would step out of the situation and see from the outside, every behavior almost as a rule we had to follow or other things that were not to be changed or moved. I would question things no one else did, no one else seemed to care about. None of the things bothered me enough to drop them and anyway” He paused “It wasn’t in my power to ever leave them” She thought there had been a tiny hint of melancholy in his voice at that last statement but was quickly hidden away from sight.

“Since I was very young I’ve been well aware of the stereotypes people think about when they see me” Lya smiled softly knowing she had been just like everyone else, giving him one and a thousand labels without actually being sure of any; she dropped her eyes out of embarrassment allowing him a short spot of rest from her curious look. She adjusted her position an inch away from him but without taking her arm away from his body.

“Rich, smart, valedictorian, kind, friendly extroverted frat boy” He said “I’ve never done something I didn’t like, I’m aware some things were expected from me but I’ve never done anything against my will” He paused “But I also have that something that shaped me and made me thrive on achievements” She looked at him again, locking her curious eyes to his handsome face. It was light enough in the room now for both of them to see each other’s features almost perfectly, Luigi felt a bit jealous of her as she had had darkness as an ally when telling her story, him on the other hand was completely bare before her eyes.

“I know that if I win, I win alone and if I fail I also fail alone” She furrowed her brows unable to tell where his story was going but also unwilling to interrupt. Although his story began in infancy she could clearly see it had never actually left his side. She was listening attentive to everything he was telling her until he paused for an instant, licking his lips softly and finally lowering his eyes away from the window and into the space in between them. He continued until his voice faded away softly into a barely perceptible breathing. In an unconscious movement, her hand landed on his bicep tracing sweet circles of reassurance. He gave half a smirk before sticking out his bottom lip and tensing his chin, unable still to face her stare. He surely was trying to do a good job at hiding his shame, he licked his lips again and let out a heavy sigh in frustration.

“I swear that for a second I could have stopped the fall, I’m almost completely sure that I could have stopped it” He repeated “But something in me wanted the tube to fall, to break” The proximity of their bodies had become irrelevant in the light of their confessions, their strokes to each other even had become a second nature extension of their now conscious concern for each other.

She was beginning to understand where the story was going. This was the last possible moment in the story she thought it would happen but it did, he finally held his head at her level again hastily chasing her eyes before speaking again “I never got what I wanted” He whispered roughly

“They said they didn’t understand how I left everything for the last minute, that it was so unlike me to be irresponsible” A fierce sensation of shielding took over her body and she couldn’t avoid embracing him in the most intimate hug she had ever given. She sheltered him with her both arms around his body, one in his back while the other like mirroring his previous embrace on her grasped the back of his neck, twirling his curls in her fingers. He hid both his embarrassment and face on her chest, not having enough courage to resist her attentive stare again. Only for a few minutes he seemed smaller than her as her chin rested on the top of his head, she closed her eyes almost guessing he didn’t want to be seen like that at all so she made a silent promise to profess oblivion to his current state. He didn’t protest to any of her approaches, he didn’t know why but he was certain he couldn’t have talked about that with any other person and he couldn’t have imagined a better response than hers.

He didn’t know exactly how long he was like that, embraced in pure and disinterest concern. His breathing now steady and smooth allowing him to face her once again. He disentangled himself from her almost nonexistent vanilla scent, she dropped both her arms slowly as he adjusted to his former position on the pillow. She placed both her hands in between her cheek and pillow and smiled faintly at him.

Gathering his ideas again he managed to continue “I’ve always thought that moment in my life would be a mirror for the rest of it. If I fail no one is going to come pick me back up, I have to do that alone” His hazel eyes remained calmed before the flickering lights of sunrise “When I became aware of psychology and how our minds, intentions, convictions, character can be wired since childhood that was the only moment I think could have shaped me in the way that I am. I was smart enough, branded independent enough since infancy. I became aware no matter how hard something was I would have to navigate it alone” His eyes pledged such an intense focus on her that for a minute she imagined he must have made a secret promise to himself, not to appear weak or troubled by that life changing memory “I enjoy challenges, always trying to climb the next peak. I’m aware of my limitations but I want to overcome them, I want to find success in what I do and give it meaning and worth thus giving my own self meaning and worth. After I’m successful it becomes worthy thus becoming worthy myself” She now felt intimidated and confused because he didn’t appear to be complaining about anything, his tone had been relaxed like telling a casual joke and not his most intimate memory, which she was sure it was “I’m not lying to myself” He continued “I’m not pretending to be someone I’m not. I’m all of those things people think I am; I’m not dissatisfied with my ways. I like being always on the lookout for the next personal challenge, I like learning, I want to improve and be better” He unknowingly replied to her silent confusion.

“So yes, I’m the kindhearted private school boy, I’m the intelligent extroverted and friendly frat boy, I’m the simple same outfit well off people say I am. Everything I’ve done I’ve done out of will no matter how much pressure I was feeling on me. I chose those paths willingly and I’ve tried to remained as genuine as I was when I was a kid; that’s who I am” He sentenced remaining in silence only for a few seconds before adding “

“Was that answer complicated enough for you?” They both smiled together, still ignoring what kind of honesty had possessed them earlier that they poured their souls out to each other. It had felt like a premonition, a somewhat distant but familiar memory. It felt like they had been waiting for this moment their whole lives, searching for understanding and acceptance. A truly genuine and unique connection. They had been waiting for each other’s voices and comforting silences for consecutive lifetimes, in the edge of sunrise in the most ordinary day they had silently sealed a friendship pact bounding them to an eternal attachment.

She was now very aware of their proximity, her chest dancing softly to the rhythm of his breathing as if they had suddenly become united in ways she could not yet understand. His kind smile seemed to shine under his hazel eyes, illuminating every dark corner she still had in her; she looked down for an instant unable to hide her shyness. In the past she had tried to find a solution for his character, being completely unaware of his real feelings and thoughts about himself, now she can clearly see the reason behind her unjustified distance towards him. He was also many things at once and sometimes we aren’t prepared to see our reflection in the mirror, it doesn’t matter how well we think we know ourselves.

“I guess sometimes we’re actually able to see ourselves” She whispered finding his steady gaze once again. He nodded slowly understanding easily what she had meant. In that moment, he felt a familiarity previously unknown to him, something had shifted inside of him; he wasn’t sure what it was because he was unable to think clearly but he knew he was above else scared. He was scared about something that hadn’t been revealed to him yet.

It seemed they had remained in a permanent state of bliss, both unwilling to stop smiling to one another while exchanging short and subtle looks filled with unsaid emotions. His fingers still lingered in the back of her neck tracing sweet circles in between her hair and skin, she had apparently overcome her previous shyness as she now couldn’t look away from his handsome face. She knew she had a million things to say but she couldn’t remember any of them, that had been the first time her mind had completely shut down before his presence. All she could do was feel, his hand grazing at her now warm skin, her heart beating at an unfamiliar rhythm, his body heat seemed to talk to her inviting her to reveal her desires despite not really knowing what they were. His body acting independently from his mind leaned in so close to her that he could outline the movement of her eyelashes and count every freckle in her cheeks, he hadn’t noticed before how pink her lips were and how kind her smile could possibly be. Whatever he was feeling it had never been felt before, it was unnamed, unshaped and unrecognizable. He didn’t dare to find its name; he wasn’t even sure he knew the name at all but the urge to be close to her was beyond any physical contact. The realization paralyzed his breathing for a mere second, that’s the fear. The yearning is the fear.

In a sublime contradiction to his thinking process his fingers unnecessarily brushed a lock of hair away from her cheek only to rest shamelessly in the warmth of her skin. Although her heart had flinched like never before her body had remained calmed and paralyzed unwilling to move, unable to break the essence of their proximity. If she was being honest to herself she could ensure that the intimacy, now incredible visible between them had never presented itself to her oh so clearly.

“You’re so lovely, Lya” His voice barely a whisper. Her name had tasted sweet in his lips but way too short to savor. She suddenly felt an overwhelming grip possessing her soul, as she had never been called lovely by anybody before. She knew she was lovely and sweet but a door had remained closed until now, until someone had actually seen what she had embedded in her most private corner and had in a way validated her own assumptions about herself.

She couldn’t avoid beaming brightly at his remark, she also secretly hoped it would conceal the watering eyes threating to expose the extent of her emotions.

“But you knew that already” He added cheekily joining her with his bright ear to ear smile. She had finally found the word to describe her feelings, she was in awe about every single detail leaving his lips and she shyly wondered whether this was the feeling you get when you find your soulmate.

She never came to know he had been wondering the same thing.

﹋

When she had first arrived in London she used to go over every tiny detail about that first night in his bedroom, trying to find both a form of consolation and way to forget the last night they saw each other. Life went on outside of her mind, months passed until she reconciled with the idea that their friendship had reached every possible extent of the word and that what she had felt for him during the last night marked the inevitable end of their friendship and the beginning of love. She flinched again when thinking about the word love, she wished she could be less brave and simply discard any possible feeling still remaining, she wished she could be blind to her own heart but after a year she hasn’t been able to forget the love she had felt for him nor the humiliation for professing it.

She sighed heavily while opening the closet doors, she reached for the suitcase reluctantly and eyed the crimson dress she had bought for the ceremony. Beth had asked her to be a bridesmaid but she had wanted to distance herself as much as possible from that group of friends and the real distance between them was helping her come up with a thousand excuses. She exhaled again this time running her fingers through her hair and looking at her reflection in the mirror hanging in front of her, she smiled faintly putting an end to her dramatic outburst, she floated outside of her body and looked down at herself, what she had accomplished, how much she enjoyed the life she was having, the new friends she had met and the old friends she will meet again. Any other thought would have to wait until later, she might give them permission to flood her mind on the 8-hour flight to New York because she’s certain she won’t be able to manage them at all during the long weekend festivities, especially after Beth confirmed he’s also going to the wedding.