#which... they were never in charge of this

[yourtoradorasextendedwarranty]

You people are actually funny. No. Really.

1. Trump was convicted for "sexual abuse" not rape. "How's that better" because rape is worse. But also because it was a NY jury. Way way past the statute of limitations, only opened up to file charges against Trump. But at least he'll do his best to get rid of killers like that if Lakin Reilly's killer. So I'm that regard he's very much protecting women. From actual rapists and killers. (Btw if you think I mean 'all illegals' when I say this you're just stupid)

2. Trump is not a "convicted felon" unless he's sentenced. And sentencing has been dropped. He was also charged with things that were not specified. Which is illegal under the Constitution. And for all the yammering you ask do claiming he's doing to 'rip up the Constitution' you all sure have zero respect for it.

3. I don't understand wtf you're on about for this one. I really don't. Because the only people Trump had promised to "make life a living hell" or otherwise it's the deep state.

4. Trump didn't promise to tear up families any more than literally any other sitting politician in history. And "separations" were very much active and VAST under the "Omega liberal hero" Democrat Obama. Who mind you "built those cages" you all scream about. He's going to deport illegals. Because they are here illegally. They broke the law. We've ALWAYS separated parents from kids when the parents break the law and go to jail. That's always been a thing.

And with no borders there is no country. So to "liberalsarecool" you're not even a liberal. You're a socialist. None of you give a damn about any of what was in your post. Literally none of you. Because if Dems did all the same shit you'd be cheering for it probably. None of you actually have morals. But because the right does, that's how you attack them.

Also stop claiming you care about spirituality. You never have before, you certainly don't now. If anything you and others like you only care about one faith and that's Islam. Every other faith group you all hate. Christians AND Jews.

Also, I wish Trump was the bastard everyone claimed. Because if he was, he'd sue you so for defamation.

The Trump voter will now own their decision to betray all decent people.

#cowards

[loveaurapearl]

Hey, I saw the new episode of Wild Life and it was amazing. I love how personal these choices are, even though Grian himself didn't choose who got what power. But seriously, it feels like all the powers were personally picked for each player. I've seen people analyze each ablity and their connections and I wanted throw my hat in the ring. (Okay, update. Watched Grian's video and it's clear that Grian did personalized the powers. He has a list of all the people who have what powers, he just didn't realize how dangerous some of these powers are with red names. He mentioned regretting giving Scar the sit command the first time Scar sat on him so yeah. Unlike the randomness of Soulmates in Double life, these powers aren't random. Just want to clarify that.)

The first one I want to mention is Joel's ability since it's the one that has stumped everyone. I mean, after all, what does triple jumping have to do with Joel? Well, at the beginning of his episode, he mentioned that he hears a slime sound effect when he uses his ability. I think his superpower was chosen because of the slime shop that Joel forgot to create for most of Season 10 of Hermitcraft. Now what do Slimes have to do with triple jumping? Well, slimes are bouncy and create momentum. Also, I think Grian put it in because it sounded like a cool power. Also, Also, it allows Joel to do a lot of PARKOUR! Which Joel is obsessed with.

Rendog got the power of masking himself as other people. This is amazing because he masked as Tango in Secret Life and the guy's an actor. He's always putting up masks like the Red King, the King of Hermitcraft, the Guard Dog of the Fairy Forte, and being part of the Gigaverse.

Gem has Astral projection which was given to her because she hates using freecam so it was a punishment to her for being so too good at the game. However, she was given the ability to give her more control over people since she was able to snoop on everyone. Kind of like a Watcher. (Or Listener in some people's headcannons. I've seen evidence for people to think this is a Watcher power or Listener power. I'm leaning on Watcher Power.)

Cleo was given the power to raise the Dead because she is a Zombie.

BigB is the power of the Creaking which is fitting since he became one of them thanks to living in their forrest.

Bdubs has the power of time because of his obsession with clocks and the power of sleep because the man is obsessed with sleeping in Hermitcraft.

Etho is an loof and sneaky man who likes to keeps his distance. He's also a coward so a quick escape plan by yeeting yourself with wind charges helps. Also, he did Frogger in Minecraft and that's a lot of jumping around.

Tango's ability is to flee like he never fleed before. Aka being a coward and also annoy people. (Someone mentioned the icewalker ability could be reference to Decked out 2. Also flee with extra flee.)

Ldshadowlady (Aka Lizzie) is just focusing on the shadow in her user name. It also represents her time falling in the Void in Secret Life. The void energy engrained in her.

Jimmy got invisiblity because the man is always sneaking around and the fact that Jimmy doesn't get this far normally. Normally he's not even alive at this point. So the narrative is kind of representing his unusual position. Also it feels like a very Listener kind of superpower.

Martyn's power is literally the power to LISTEN to people. Very Listener power.

Impulse's power is to swap places with people. It kind of represents how much of a flip-flopper he was in Third Life. Yeah know, traitor Impulse. Also, Enderpearl satis cambers and using weird glitches to find diamonds in Third life references.

Scott's ability of Animal shapeshifting is not only a cruel twisted torture made up by the Watchers because they hate Scott, seriously, it's the worst superpower, but it also represents Scott's kind and gentle nature. While the guy knows how to fight, most of the time Scott is a nice chill guy. He's friendly and charming like a passive mob. He does his best to support the team and he will sacrifice himself for the team. The guy is also soft with animals. Remember the cow and the pufferfish in Third Life? What about the Axolotos in Last Life? Also, the guy likes to get pets in Empires.

Pearl's ability to fly is the fact that she and Grian are Skyblings but also a more subtle connection to the watchers. After all, Watchers do have angel wings.

Grian's ability to mimic everyone else's powers is so Watcher-coded it's not even funny. It's like he's purposely making it clear to everyone that he's a Watcher now. And the fact that he made this Wild Card to get Skizz and Mumbo back is just icing on the cake. He just never realized how bad his wish to bring his friends back would bite him in the back so hard. Ah Grian, not thinking your plans ahead and thinking about the consequences. Just like always.

And finally Scar. Scar has wanted Super strength all season. He mentioned it in episode one and he's been testing it out every time a Wild Card has been activated except for when his teammates were on red. The guy loves the classic power to punch people and to yeet people off cliffs. It fits his namesake. And the power to sit on everything is just genius. Not only does it allow some very funny moments but it fits Scar's cowboy aesthetic. It's also the perfect fit for Scar because at first you think it's harmless. After all, you just get yeeted a bit and Scar rides on you. All fun and games. But once the fighting begins, this power shows how scary Scar actually is. Now you can't get Scar off you because he's sitting on you and you can't knock him off or hurt him. Sure he can't hurt you back, but it just means he's waiting his time. And the yeeting becomes more scary once your falling to your doom off a cliff. It's also a very protective power since he can make foes fly a million miles away from him, out of sword range and now the only way to hurt him is with a bow. A bow which Scar is way more skilled at using. After all, he is the HotGuy. Also he did mention HotGuy in his episode when he was trying to hit Tango. It's just that he missed it since Tango's so fast. (Oh yeah, I almost forgot, Scar got Thorns as part of his power set. Not only is it another defensive weapon since it makes people not want to hit him because they would be hurt back even with range attacks, but also it represents his connections to the earth. He is a terraformer. It also represents Double life since it kind of mimics the gimmick of if you get hurt, I get hurt of being soulmates. Just wanted to add this in.)

Anyway, I hope you like my analysis.

[insidekatmind]

When everyone's asleep-Pope Heyward

Wearning: +18,smut, english is not my first language.

The night had fallen on John B’s cottage, enveloping everything in a silence broken only by the chirping of crickets and the rustling of waves in the distance. John B and Sarah had taken refuge in their room, leaving the rest of you to settle down in the kitchen, which had been converted into a makeshift camp. Thin mattresses and blankets spread on the floor welcomed Kiara, Cleo and JJ, already immersed in a deep sleep.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t sleep. You felt your heart beat faster than normal, but it wasn’t the waves or the wind that shook the windows. It was him. Pope.

He was lying beside you, his face relaxed as he pretended to sleep. But you knew him too well. You noticed the way his hand barely moved, looking for yours under the shared blanket. A slight smile curled your lips as you let your fingers intertwine.

"Don’t you sleep?" he whispered, his voice a breath in the silence.

"And you?" you replied in a similar tone, the smile evident even in the dark.

The others were all too tired to notice what was going on between you. Pope came a little closer, his warm breath caressing your cheek.

"You’re the one keeping me awake," he admitted, with a glimmer of malice in his dark eyes that you could glimpse in the dim light.

"I didn’t do anything," you replied quietly, trying to keep an innocent tone.

But it wasn’t entirely true. The tension between you had been building up for days, weeks perhaps. You were always close, but lately every touch, every look seemed to carry a deeper meaning.

"You don’t have to do anything, Y/N. I just look at you," said Pope, the sincerity in his voice making your heart beat even faster.

You did not answer, but let your face draw near to his until your lips touched. It was a soft kiss, almost shy, but the way Pope drew you closer made all doubts vanish. His hand gently laid on your cheek, his thumb drawing imaginary lines on your skin.

"They’re sleeping," you murmured against his lips, your hands clinging to his shirt.

"I don’t care," he replied, the voice charged with a sweetness that made you tremble. "I’ve waited too long for this."

The kiss grew deeper, and each touch seemed to set the air between you. Your hand slid down his chest, feeling the muscles tense under the cloth, as he left a trail of caresses along your side.

"Pope..." his name slipped away in a whisper, a mixture of desire and uncertainty.

"Shh..." he silenced you, his smile lighting up his face. "You must say nothing."

It was not easy to remain silent with the way his lips explored your skin, descending down your neck. You would sometimes glance at others, but they were completely unaware of what was happening. JJ snored slightly, while Cleo and Kiara were wrapped in their blankets, lost in their dreams.

"Promise you won’t regret it tomorrow," you whisper, biting your lower lip as his eyes met yours.

"The only thing I would regret is not having done it," said Pope, his voice full of determination.

Your heart seemed to explode at those words, and you let the moment overwhelm you. It was risky, crazy, but every second with him made you feel alive like never before.

As the night continued, it seemed that the world outside the chalet had vanished, leaving only you two, your whispers and kisses exchanged, as if the rest did not matter.

Pope’s breath deepened as your lips continued to search for each other, hungry but slow at the same time, as if you wanted to savor every second of that stolen moment. His hands gently slid on your hips, drawing you closer.

"Come here," he whispered with a thread of voice, and before I could answer, you felt his strong hands guiding you, gently sliding on him.

Your heart seemed to beat so fast that it could wake up others, but at the time you didn’t care. His hands were on your sides, holding you with the right pressure, while his gaze was lost in yours.

"You’re amazing, you know?" Pope whispered, his tone loaded with a sweetness that made you melt.

You looked down, a shy smile curving your lips. "You shouldn’t say that so often, I could get my head blown."

"I’ll stop saying that when you stop driving me crazy," he replied, a flash of fun in his eyes before drawing you back to himself.

The kiss became more intense, and your body instinctively responded to his. You felt the warmth that emanated, the way in which his hands explored the curve of your back, going up and down with a delicacy that contrasted the obvious desire that you felt growing between you.

"Pope..." whispered against his lips, your hands clinging to his back, trying to balance.

"Tell me," he replied, his voice low and crusty, as his fingers brushed the skin of your bare side.

"If anyone wakes up..." you started, but his lips settled on yours again, interrupting you.

"They won’t wake up," he assured with a mischievous smile, his eyes shining bright as they were looking for yours. "And even if they did, I don’t care. I want you."

Those words made you shiver, and without thinking too much, you let go completely. Your hands moved towards his face, caressing his jaw as your lips continued to move in perfect harmony.

Sometimes you would glance at others, but their sleep seemed deep and peaceful. JJ was curled up under a blanket with a peaceful expression on his face, while Cleo and Kiara were not even making the slightest movement.

"See? Everything under control," Pope whispered, noticing your worried look.

"You’re too sure of yourself," you replied, trying to keep a firm tone, but the smile that formed on your lips betrayed your true mood.

"Only when it comes to you." His words left you breathless, and you felt the need to reciprocate the gesture. You bent down again to him, your lips finding his neck, leaving light kisses that made him barely shake.

"You’re torturing me," Pope muttered, his voice broken by pleasure as his hands clenched even tighter on your hips.

"I didn’t think you were so sensitive," you joked, but the smile on your face turned into a slight moan as he decided to counter-attack, his lips moving down your neck, leaving a trail of heat that made you tremble.

The moment seemed eternal, a mix of audacity and desire that completely enveloped you. For a moment you forgot everything: the chalet, the others, the possible consequences. There was only you and him, the dark accomplice of that night, and the desire to continue discovering every nuance of each other.

Your movements started almost without thinking about it, slow and uncertain at first, but soon the need to feel more, to be closer to him, took over. Move your hips against him, creating a slight friction but enough to make him jump under you.

"Y/N..." Pope whispered at your lips, the tone charged with a mixture of surprise and pleasure.

You noticed the way he clenched his teeth, desperately trying to hold back a moan that could have broken the silence of the chalet and attracted the attention of others. But the way his hands clung to your hips made you realize how much it was making him lose control.

"Is something wrong?" you asked with a whisper, a mischievous smile curving your lips as your hands flowed on his shoulders.

"You... know it exactly," he replied with a clenched teeth, a flash of fun mixed with desire in his eyes.

You kept moving, your hips following a slow but steady pace, while he tried to keep control. His hands guided you, holding you tight enough to make you feel the warmth of his skin through your clothes, but never too much to be intrusive.

"You’re incredible," he muttered, interrupting the kiss to stare at you with eyes that shone in the twilight.

"You’re not bad yourself," you joked, but your voice betrayed the effect he was having on you.

He bent forward, his lips finding your neck, and this time did not hold back. He left a more determined, almost possessive kiss, followed by a trail of light bites that made you shiver. Your movements became more fluid, more natural, while his breath became irregular.

"If you keep this up, I can’t guarantee that I’ll be able to hold back," Pope whispered in a husky voice as his eyes settled on yours with an intensity that made you tremble.

"Who told you I want you to hold back?" you said with a whisper of voice, your hands sticking in her hair.

The way his body reacted to those words was enough to make you realize how close it was to the limit. He moved just below you, trying to make more contact, while his lips returned to urgently seek yours. Every kiss was an unspoken promise, an invitation to let go completely.

For a moment, you forgot where you were. There was no longer the risk of being caught, or awareness of how risky what you were doing. There were only you and him, lost in a vortex of emotions that seemed to grow with every movement, every whisper, every kiss.

You started to lower your pyjamas and thongs and then do the same thing with his shorts and boxer shorts. Pope was already shirtless and having Pope all naked and needy under you was a sight.

You joined your lips with hers while you lined up your pussy on her cock and sank in it while trying not to moan. Pope was going crazy: your pussy was squeezing his dick and the fact that he couldn’t moan was killing him.

Your lips kept searching for hers with increasing urgency, the kisses getting deeper and more messy, while the heat between you increased inexorably. Your movements on his hips became more determined, the rhythm you followed sent shivers down your back and, judging by the way Pope clenched his jaw, also along his.

"God, Y/N..." He whispered with a thread of voice, his hands clenching even more on your hips, as if trying to control what was happening, but without really being able to. " You’re riding me so well"

Every movement of yours was a sweet torment, and you felt it in the way his breath became more and more irregular, his eyes closing for a moment before opening again and looking for yours.

"Pope..." you murmured, his name coming out almost like a moan as you felt the growing warmth between you. Your hands clung to his hair, the touch that seemed the only way to anchor yourself in reality as you lost yourself in him.

"You’re playing with fire," he said in a hoarse voice, the tone that had a warning note, but his smile betrayed how much he loved everything that was happening.

"I see you more than comfortable with the fire," you replied, your voice a mixture of provocation and desire.

Pope laughed softly, a muffled sound to not wake up the others, but immediately after his lips returned to yours, hungry, as if he needed that touch to breathe. Each of his kisses was deep, slow and incredibly intense, and the way his hands held you made you feel wanted in a way that you had never felt before.

Your movements became more natural, as if your bodies spoke a language you had never learned but instinctively knew. Every touch, every pressure created a crescendo of emotions that left you breathless.

"I can’t think of anything but you right now," Pope confessed, his voice broken by pleasure as his gaze waned into yours.

Those words made you melt, and you returned with a long kiss and full of feeling, your hands slipping down her back, wishing the moment never ended.

"Neither did I," you replied in a whisper, your foreheads touching as you both tried to catch your breath.

The sound of a slight movement from the sofa made you freeze for a moment. You both turned your head towards JJ, who turned under the blanket, mumbling something in her sleep.

You both held your breath, holding up a nervous laugh when he showed no other signs of awakening. Pope looked at you with a complicit smile, the desire in his eyes now mixed with a touch of fun.

"You’re too dangerous," he quipped softly, putting one hand on your back and moving closer to him again.

"Yet you don’t seem to want to stop," you replied with a mischievous smile, your lips resting on hers again in a long and sweet kiss. And as palpable as the risk was, neither of you seemed willing to give up that stolen moment.

You started rolling your hips on his cock feeling how his dick went on your g-spot and you lowered your head biting his neck not to chase the moan that was coming out of you while he left a small moan at impact.

"shit y/n" he murmured as you left him sucking his neck, leaving a mark. " you’re my death" said Pope as he put your hands on your ass and squeezed it to make you move more against him.

You bit the inside cheeks of your mouth not to groan but always small groans were coming out so Pope joined his lips with yours swallowing all the groans.

"you’re holding it so well to me" I whispered near your lips and then kissed you again while you groaned.

You both came to the climax and Pope cum inside of you while you were still kissing.

After a while you recovered you adjusted and fell asleep hugged.

The next day you were all out and only JJ was still sleeping. When he came out, he seemed amused." Guys I had a strange dream... I dreamed that someone was fucking while I was sleeping, what a cool thing" said JJ amused and unaware of everything.

You and Pope looked at each other and were holding back a laugh amused.

[malloryrowinski]

The Seductress stereotype has always made my blood boil. Powerful women throughout history have been reduced to this idea of a semi-mythological, semi-evil figure (like Cleopatra) who supposedly used their bodies to manipulate men into doing things they would never have otherwise done. But this idea is not just a lie—it’s an insidious tool of patriarchy that reinforces women’s subordination and strips them of their humanity and agency.

The concept of the "Powerful Seductress" frames women’s power as inherently illegitimate, as if a woman could only achieve influence by deceiving men, who are presented as the true arbiters of strength, intellect, and leadership. Cleopatra, for example, is often reduced to her romantic relationships with Julius Caesar and Mark Antony, her political acumen dismissed as secondary to her supposed "seductive wiles." This not only diminishes her extraordinary intellect and skill as a ruler but reinforces the notion that men must have been under some unnatural spell to treat her as an equal.

Yet even in the myth of the Seductress, the power dynamic is glaringly one-sided. The seduction is never for the woman’s direct benefit; it’s always framed as her “pleasing” a man in order to gain access to resources, protection, or survival. A seductress does not control a man—she exists within the confines of his desires, granted "power" only so long as she maintains his attention. Once the game is over, the mask of her so-called dominance falls away, and the man reasserts his authority, often by brute force. In reality, women cast in these roles are rarely the architects of their own destinies; they are pawns in a system that weaponizes their own bodies against them.

This is why the Seductress trope is not just dehumanizing but actively dangerous. It perpetuates the belief that women have innate, manipulative sexual power over men, which in turn justifies male violence and entitlement. If women are seen as wielding this mythical power, then men can frame their violence as a necessary act of reclaiming control. It’s no coincidence that men who commit acts of violence against women often accuse their victims of being “temptresses” or “asking for it.” The trope provides a moral justification for oppression: if women can control men with their sexuality, then patriarchy is framed as a righteous act of containing this imagined threat.

Even in modern contexts, we see this dynamic playing out. Women are conditioned to derive their value from their ability to conform to beauty standards and attract male attention, but this is not empowerment. The moment a woman steps outside the bounds of desirability or asserts agency beyond pleasing men, her so-called power is stripped away. The “sexy woman” celebrated in media is only empowered because she is sanctioned by the patriarchal system as acceptable, much like a court jester is “allowed” to mock the king.

This is why the role of the Seductress ends the moment a man decides it does. History is filled with examples of women who wielded sexual or relational power within their limited means, only to be crushed when men no longer found them useful. Anne Boleyn, for instance, was courted by Henry VIII and rose to become Queen of England through their relationship. But as soon as she fell out of favor, she was executed on charges of adultery—her “seduction” reframed as treasonous manipulation. The message is clear: women can have power, but only the kind men allow them to have—and only for as long as it serves their interests.

The seduction myth also glosses over the reality of coercion and violence. In countless historical and modern examples, women didn’t "seduce" their way into proximity to power—they were forced into relationships with men who held more resources, influence, and physical strength. The suggestion that women like Cleopatra or Anne Boleyn were "powerful seductresses" ignores the oppressive structures that shaped their circumstances and assumes a level of agency they never fully possessed.

Finally, it’s crucial to dismantle the idea that female sexuality is inherently dangerous or more potent than male sexuality. This belief perpetuates shame, scrutiny, and control over women’s bodies while simultaneously excusing men’s actions as unavoidable responses to temptation. The myth of the Seductress is just another way patriarchy teaches women that their bodies are both their only source of value and a source of blame for their own oppression.

In reality, women’s power has always been in spite of these constraints, not because of them. When women achieve greatness, it is often through extraordinary resilience and ingenuity in navigating systems designed to keep them powerless—not through some imagined supernatural ability to “control men.” Recognizing this is essential to breaking down the false narratives that perpetuate gender hierarchies and keep us blind to the true mechanisms of power.

i love that quote that’s like “gender isn’t a binary, it’s a hierarchy” because it fundamentally changed the way that i approach issues of gender and socialization. men and women are not treated as two opposite-but-equal ends of a spectrum; women are not given some forms of power that men cannot access and vice versa. female socialization is not an arbitrary process that ‘accidentally’ makes women weaker, it has a goal to make women easier to control. which also means that male socialization seeks to empower men in all of the ways that it disenfranchises women.

so how can i ever see gender identity as something…equal or neutral

[solarenchanting]

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐑 𝐍𝐀𝐏𝐒 ── .✦ getō suguru x fem!reader

a hot summer day involving two lovers and a cold floor

he leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen, his tall figure relaxed as he crossed his arms against his bare chest. his hair fell loosely down his back, long strands brushing against his chest. black sweatpants sagged low enough to reveal the waistband of his boxers.

“and what do we have here?”

he chuckled dryly, cigarette between his lips, its smoke curling in the humid air. his eyes gleamed with mirth at sight before him: you were laying on the tiled floor, sprawled like a starfish, dressed in your favourite summer outfit. your stomach rose up and down, head lolled to the side.

your beautiful eyes—which made him weak in the knees whenever he stared into them—were closed; trying to play it off as if you were taking a nap, he knew that you were awake.

the scrunch of your nose as the smell of nicotine from his cigarette reached your nostrils, followed by the twitch of your eyes, and the soft giggle you couldn’t suppress gave you away.

“nothing,” you sing-song, lazily turning your head slightly to face him. “just trying to take a nap, you know?”

“on the floor?” he challenged, teasingly, making his way to the kitchen table with his arms unfolded; one hand in his pocket, and the other holding the cigarette as he stubbed it out on the rusty ashtray.

he pulled out a chair, the bottom of the legs scraping onto the tiles, as he took a seat. slouching back in the chair, legs—deliciously—spread apart. propping an elbow onto the table, he lowered his head slightly to stare into your eyes, smirking.

“why not? there’s no water for a cold shower, no electricity, we don't live near a beach, we don't have a pool…it’s not like we have anything better to do,” you trailed off, shrugging your shoulders, your eyes drawn to the ceiling.

“is that so? i see…” he mused playfully, arching an eyebrow with a tilt of his head; leaning further into his hand, amused.

he couldn’t blame you, you weren't wrong. the sun’s heat had seeped through every room of the small apartment since dawn, making the walls radiate warmth back at them.

the water supply randomly shut down at 10 am; at least they managed to shower before that. then, electricity shut off an hour or two later, leaving them to entertain themselves with their barely charged phones until boredom struck them.

The tiled floor beneath you might have been the only surface still offering a sliver of coolness, though it wasn’t much relief. Sweat clung to his skin, the dampness at the back of his neck was annoying as stray strands of hair stuck to it.

the kitchen reeked of stale smoke, sweat, and something humid, clinging to their skin like fog; it was thick, almost suffocating.

the faint hum of cicadas outside seemed to mock the silence of the powerless apartment—if he had a choice, he’d prefer the cicadas over the irritating buzzing of mosquitoes flying over his head when he’s trying to sleep at night.

“so laying on the floor was the next best thing?”

he shuffled on the chair, trying to keep his damp back from sticking to the surface, his eyes never leaving yours.

“pretty much, yeah. you should try it sometime,” you jerked your head to the empty space next to you on the floor, ending off your suggestion with a playful wink.

“oh, yeah? i’ll try it out now then.”

he pushed himself off the chair, walking over to the empty space between you and the refrigerator. he settled down, first feeling the cold floor through the fabric of his sweatpants.

he laid down on his back, hissing between his teeth before it turned into a content sigh. his hair spread out above him on the floor. he mirrored your pose, though his spread limbs were more controlled, more restrained than yours but still relaxed.

“feels good, doesn’t it?” you teased, turning your head to face him, eyes filled with adoration as they roamed over the details of his profile; his closed eyes, short eyelashes, black circular earring, sharp jawline.

“it does…” he muttered, opening his eyes and staring at the ceiling, “but not quite.”

“how so?” you furrowed your eyebrows, confused, a teasing smirk playing on your lips. the way he spoke made you curious, almost frustrated that he wasn’t just agreeing with you like he should be.

he turned his head to face you this time with quickness. a familiar yet mischievous and expected glint entered his eyes followed by a coy smile.

of course. you should’ve known he'd pull something like this. rolling your eyes, you tried to suppress the smile threatening to escape, but it was pointless. he always knew how to get you

“tch, you could've just told me, you know,” you reached over and lightly slapped his chest causing him to laugh.

“and you should know by now that i can’t nap without you. you’re my favourite part of napping, sweet girl,” he retorted.

you shifted closer to him, closing the gap between you both, until you nestled comfortably underneath his arm, laying your head on his shoulder, and threw your arm over his torso as you draped your leg over his waist.

he sighed softly, a deep and content breath escaping his lips as his arm circled around your shoulders, pulling you closer. his fingers gently traced soothing circles on your arm, the warmth of his touch grounding you. meanwhile, he shifted his free arm to the back of his head, his palm resting at the nape of his neck.

he felt your body melt as he rubbed your arm, your breath evening out. he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, the warmth of his lips lingering there for a moment as his eyes fluttered shut. his stomach rose and fell, deep measured breaths, as he let himself fall asleep alongside you.

the floor beneath them was cool but unyielding, yet with you tucked into his side, nothing else—least of all the stifling heat—mattered.

a/n: i don't know what this is, but itʼs something. hope it's enjoyable nonetheless !! <33

[higuchisora]

Seeing as they clearly didn't know what the hell to do with Jinx/the political repercussions of her bombing the council in season 2, I'd like to explore the possibilities of how Zaun would've reacted to this that would've made way more sense than what we saw.

1. Jinx becomes an extremely controversial figure.

Few are neutral to her. This would be largely because, outside of knowing she blew up the council, no one actually knows WHY. What were her motives? Were they politically charged? Was she trying to start a war? What exactly was her goal? It was never really stated that she was infamous prior to this, but I recall in season 1 act 2 that when Vi went looking for her, people knew OF Jinx, and that she worked for Silco, but weren't really aware of any further details (ex: Babette, who knew Vi when she was younger, heard of Jinx but didn't even know that her and Powder are the same person). So those that are aware of her connection to Silco- who objectively did make many of their lives worse with Shimmer- wouldn't be happy. They'd be scared of what will come next.

Those who don't know/don't care might fill in the blanks with their own guesses, maybe that she's some kind of activist- which would split them further into the subgroups of "Oh fuck the enforcers are gonna kill us and it's her fault" and "Finally, a war!" The second of which I'd argue would actually be a very small group. I could imagine the Jinxers being seen by the rest of Zaun as crazy radicals who don't know what they're getting themselves into/are gonna drag the rest of Zaun into danger. I think it would cause a LOT of infighting. Like a civil war inside another civil war.

How Jinx would handle this would be.... interesting. Especially if the Jinxers start making moves on their own. She never really shows much interest in activism- she works for Silco because he's her new dad, and while she doesn't seem to DISAGREE with his opinions, it doesn't seem she's all that invested in actually working to make it happen beyond just wanting to help her dad. His death seemed to take her interest with it.

Now, they could either lean into this, and make people question her motives/actions because of her clear disinterest, maybe increasing some of the controversy around her (no follow through on her action, letting Zaunites suffer the consequences, etc.), or they could make her actually take a genuine personal interest in it. But that, I think, would take a bigger arc that might be more work for arguably less payoff when considering you'd probably have to change a great deal of her character to do it, especially when you could probably achieve similar plot points/outcomes even without her intentionally becoming a political figurehead.

2. Zaun becomes fractured politically/other "symbols" of Zaun

This can be in tandem with idea 1, actually, but can still be it's own idea. Basically, after the fall of the council, and Silco's death, Zaunites are terrified. They've been run so far by Vander, Silco, and then some vague council-like oligarchy of Chem-Barons, who could be interpreted as functioning like very large gangs. The Chem-Barons have always been around, but with Silco's sudden death (and no one who was primed/expecting to replace him), this leaves a massive power vacuum that the Chem-Barons and smaller gangs are scrambling to come out on top of.

The fear of the unknown and the extreme instability would lead to people desperately throwing their lot in with whoever they think would be a better/less dangerous leader, and by extension, political symbol. Season 2 shows a bunch of new people joining the Firelights. In that case, I can imagine that before long, several new potential leaders surface, even if they didn't expect it. Namely, Ekko, Jinx, and Sevika.

Ekko because as I said, people were apparently coming to his base in droves. They don't tell us Jack shit about the Firelights besides the fact that A) Ekko leads them B) they don't fuck with Silco OR Piltover C) Piltover thinks they're terrorists and D) they look rad as fuck. That being said, considering Ekko's Everything, I think we can all gather a general picture of what the Firelights are about. Plus his cool tree would be a great symbol (@srslylini for the idea) of growth, healing, etc.

Sevika, because those that knew her as Silco's second might be hoping for some kind of stability with her. Even if they didn't like Silco, it's better the enemy you know and all that jazz. They'd feel safer with someone who at least seems to know what they're doing, even if Sevika herself has no interest in becoming a leader. I think some would just naturally gravitate towards who they see as "second in line". This could also be in connection to Jinx, as she could possibly been seen as someone who could "rein" Jinx in (again, most people don't actually KNOW Jinx, they just know OF her and that she worked for Silco and was volatile. Think how Finn referred to her as Silco's "attack dog").

Speaking of Jinx, she'd probably be treated similarly to idea 1. Extremely polarizing. Her followers would be seen as crazy, like she is. They'd be seen as warmongers and/or people who have no idea what they're getting themselves into. They'd basically be seen as the stereotypical "young rebels". The average Zaunite would see the average Jinxer as a young, angry, maybe idealistic radical who doesn't understand the cost of war. I'd argue that, again, they'd probably be the smallest and most controversial group just because most people don't necessarily WANT a war, even if they're willing to fight for it. And the suddenness of the bombing would've scared even some of the rebels who DO want war, because they weren't prepared. It wasn't a PLANNED attack, so both Zaun AND Piltover are basically caught with their pants down, which would also bring some ire from the other Zaunites.

There's another option for a faction I'd like to explore, also thanks to srslylini (thank you icon), but it takes a bit of setting up.

In a hypothetical situation in which Vi did NOT become an enforcer, I think it would happen like this: Vi hangs around in Piltover at first out of guilt/feeling like she has nowhere else to go. She's still not on board with being an enforcer, but she attends the memorial out of a sense of obligation. Her and Caitlyn have a falling out over Caitlyn calling Zaunites "animals", and here is where she storms off and goes back to Zaun, with the final words to Caitlyn that "You Pilties are all the fucking same" (or something to that effect). She's still feeling lost, and so maybe this is where she stumbles around, having maybe a similar pitfighting arc (just not as distraught, more like she's broke and angry and has to pay rent somehow so she might as well get paid to punch someone's face in). Because she's not in a massive spiral, there's unfortunately no emo arc (sad), but the bright side of this is that she's recognizable. I don't think she's FAMOUS, per say, but Babette and Ekko recognized her right off the bat in season 1 (yes you can say Ekko was really close to her, but Babette? C'mon), and considering she was older than Powder when she went off to prison, I don't think it's a stretch to assume her face was a little better-known than her sister's (especially considering she was already going on jobs, and in act 1 she gets into a fight with Deckard who I'm pretty sure knew her name, but not Powder's).

This is to say, I think a lot of the "old heads" knew who she was, especially those who liked Vander. It helps that she tattooed her name on her face LMAO. So I'd imagine she'd show up in the ring, no hair dye no makeup, and eventually after consistently knocking her opponents around and winning every time, she'd become a bit locally famous again- to the point that those same "old heads" who remember her make the connection and come looking. Maybe rumors start swirling, especially once they learn she was gone because she'd been in prison- not unheard of, and probably the first conclusion they drew when they realized she wasn't dead.

So eventually Vander's old followers/younger people who idolized him from their childhood start seeking her out. Sensationalizing her. Asking her what she's planning on doing. Is she taking back the Lanes? Will she get those Chem-Barons under control? What about Jinx? Could she hunt her down, rein her in? Hell, maybe even put her to use? Will you give us our relative safety, our security back?

And Vi, who just wanted to knock some heads around and maybe take a nap in her apartment and cry, is suddenly faced with being "Vander 2.0" and Jinx is the new "Silco 2.0" and all the weight of expectations and legacy and history and literal war and politics are being shoved in her face. She, like Jinx, is now faced with becoming a figurehead when she never wanted to be, which could lead into option 3:

3. A joint approach to Zaun

This would primarily be driven by Sevika even if she wasn't one of the possible leaders, because SOMEONE has to be the responsible adult here and it's certainly not any of these traumatized losers (affectionate). She'd be the glue to keep it all together, the reluctant team mom who WILL make this work because she WILL have Zaun even if she has to die to get it.

This could work with either Jinx and Vi, or Jinx, Vi, and Ekko (I genuinely can't imagine season 2 act 1 Ekko willingly teaming up with season 2 act 1 Jinx AND Sevika without some kind of buffer). Basically, once the other "leader candidates"/political symbols have been established, Sevika would round them up with the intention to use their influence to unite Zaun against Piltover. This would take a LOT of arguing, but ultimately I think she'd be able to get them to shut up and hear her out for a moment. Regardless of how different their beliefs are about what the "ideal Zaun" looks like, they can all agree that Piltover isn't in any of those pictures. She could convince them to set aside their own squabbling for the time being, for the greater good: aka, the independence of Zaun.

At the very least, I think she'd be able to get them to agree that Piltover coming down and hurting Zaunites in revenge shouldn't be ignored, and that they're currently a bigger threat than their fellow Zaunite. So eventually they'd reach some kind of truce: behave like a united front against Piltover, push them out of Zaun, stabilize Zaun, and then worry about tearing each other apart later. And because all of these characters- ALL of them- have shown (prior to season 2) anti-Piltover sentiments, they'd at least be able to agree that enforcers shouldn't be allowed to beat down on their people (especially in this version where Vi has better, more consistent writing lmao).

Of course, Rome wasn't built in a day, so maybe they don't reach a total agreement immediately- maybe they just agree to a ceasefire at first, but still refuse to work together. But once Caitlyn becomes a dictator? Once enforcers start gassing the streets, rounding people up, implementing martial law?

That's when the gloves would come off.

I'd imagine this could also be part of how Vi and Jinx slowly start to repair their relationship. They've got bigger fish to fry, but also, this time their enemy is connected to their own personal conflict with each other. Jinx might ask, "what happened to your enforcer girl? What happened to being a Piltie lapdog?" And Vi would essentially, in perhaps more emotionally constipated words, explain that it wasn't really about Caitlyn, it was about being needed. It was about trying to find Jinx, about trying to stop Silco, about trying to "fix" things, only realize that she couldn't. It was about trying to make things better, but that she realized the person she was trying to do that with didn't actually care. That all she wanted was to make sense of the destruction of her old life, and find meaning in a new one. And I think Jinx, too, in her own emotional constipation, would resonate with that, would understand that. It wouldn't fix things between them, but I think it'd be a start.

It could also help their relationship with Ekko. Since Vi isn't an enforcer this time, and season 1 (the One True Season) showed their sibling relationship, I think her and Ekko's bonding would be more like "reconnecting with an old friend", whereas Jinx and Ekko would have a lot of work to do, too. There'd probably be a bit of a cold war between them for a while, once Ekko agrees to help, because he knows actually talking to her would piss him off. But eventually, through Sevika's manhandling of these three, and being forced to make nice with reluctant-figurehead-Jinx, they'd connect again.

Perhaps part of a plan is for them to develop new technology for Zaun. Whether that's weapons against Piltover (unlikely on Ekko's part I think), or just safety gear/ safer city infrastructure ideas for the betterment of their people, I think eventually they'd figure themselves out, too. He'd see the Powder in her, the part he saw on that bridge, and maybe it would give him the ability to try and understand Jinx. And Jinx would realize that maybe these people in her life DO love her, DO care about her, more than just for what she used to be but for who she is now. And somewhere along the way, they'd be friends again (or they can date IDK man I just want them to stop trying to kill each other).

Whatever happens next is so wide in possibility that I can't possibly cover it here so this is where it ends, lol.

[moonlightdawn1102]

'Good Girl' - 18+

Pairings: Famous Reader x Bodyguard Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 2613

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, vagina sex, dominant/submissive relationship, unprotected sex, teasing, enemies to lovers.

When your father had first approached the subject of getting you a bodyguard, you’d been against it and genuinely couldn’t have imagined something worse. Who in their right mind would want some stranger following them around every second of the day? You already had very little privacy due to your father being in the public eye, you weren’t about to let some random man have his eyes on you at all times as well. At least that’s what you’d told yourself until you walked into your father’s office and saw Bucky Barnes. 

However, despite his handsome appearance the man was sarcastic and the definition of annoying. He’d made your life hell ever since he’d been put in charge of your safety. He was simply impossible to get along with and he’d even rejected all of your flirtatious remarks which only furthered your frustration. 

Just like now. You were sitting in a restaurant opposite him and he was questioning you on some steamy photos you’d sent to an ex-boyfriend who you occasionally hooked up with.

"Those steamy pictures went to my ex-boyfriend, who I hook up with at times. Is that what you wanted to hear? I trust him, and therefore, it's not a security concern. He wouldn't blackmail me”

You pick up your fork and take a bite of your food, "And if you're jealous, just admit it. No need to act like you're concerned about who's seeing me half naked because of security concerns when we both know it's because you wish I was sending those pictures to you" you say with a smirk.

Bucky picks away at his salad for a couple of silent moments, grinding his teeth before looking back up at you and your cheeky smirk. 

"That's an assumption and a half. If I didn't know you, sure, I wouldn't mind seeing some garage poster worthy pictures of you. But - and I never thought I'd be saying this - personality apparently plays a big part in attraction somehow."

“So you can provoke me all you want, but you're not getting rid of me, princess”. 

With a thin layer of sweat coating his forehead, he sighs and chews on his cheek. Why did you have to be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen? Those pictures had sent a wave of pleasure through him that he didn’t even know he could still experience. However, Bucky Barnes was exceptional at his job and fraternising with his clients was something he just wouldn’t do. Although, he was damn close to just picking you up and fucking you until you saw stars. 

"Excuse me for a moment, I need to use the restroom.”

Fully anticipating the possibility of you ditching him, Bucky makes his way to the restroom and splashes some cold water across his face, struggling to keep himself together. You being so close yet so out of reach is killing him.

You watch Bucky stand up from the table and head to the bathroom. You wait for a few seconds to make sure Bucky had actually left before you quickly put some money down on the table to pay for the food. You grab your phone and purse before exiting the restaurant quickly, you walk down the street and call a friend to come pick you up.

Even though Bucky expected it, he’s still infuriated that you ditched him. The sexual frustration that he’d been experiencing was amplified tenfold. He was able to hear the clicking of your heels down the street which makes it easy for him to follow you. He shifts into the shadows and catches up within seconds. A silent breeze caresses your face and other than it, you hear nothing around you. You see nothing around aside from the occasional car driving past. Suddenly, two strong arms snap around you like a bear trap. 

"That wasn't very nice of you” Bucky whispers in your ear. 

He presses his palm against your mouth and pulls you into the alley. His arm around your waist tightens and he gently tilts your head to the side to expose your neck. Bucky was acting on sheer impulse and desire now and nothing was going to stop him from taking what he wanted. 

"I won't let you leave just like that, princess..." he whispers along your skin, pressing his lips against your neck. 

You struggle in his grip until you feel his lips against your neck, the action makes your knees weak and you let out a soft whimper. Bucky loved how you squirmed in his arms. So helpless... He can already imagine how explosive you'll be once he moves his hand away from your mouth. 

"Maybe I did want you all this time..." he confesses and slowly slides his tongue along your skin. 

"Now... Be a good girl and stay quiet. The last thing you want is to cause a scene” he says with a smirk on his lips. 

He turns you around before pinning you against the wall. Bucky’s eyes shimmer in the dark like a cat's and before he can process any of his thoughts, he leans in to press his lips against your neck again, softly sucking on your skin as he grabs onto your wrists and pins them against the wall too. You feel his lips caressing your neck before they move to your jawline, tracing it with kisses before he reaches your chin and leans back, his hot breath tickling your lips. 

"If I let go of your hands, will you try to run away?”

Your head falls back against the wall and you moan softly at the feeling of his lips on your neck again. You squirm to try and gain some control over the situation, but getting out of his grip was going to be impossible with how much larger and stronger he was. You feel your panties become slightly damp at his actions, you swallow thickly and shake your head at his words, 

"N..No..I won't run away.." you whisper.

You were reacting much differently than Bucky thought you would. The adorable moans, the lack of any screaming... He could see your face perfectly in the dark and there didn't seem to be any anger on it like there usually would be. Bucky’s grip loosens around your wrists and you feel his hands slide along your arms before one of the hands ends up cupping your breast while the other glides down your side and grabs your ass. Right as that happens, he closes the distance and gives you a sensual kiss.

Bucky gently wedges his knee between your thighs, pressing it against your crotch to rub it. Feeling Bucky’s knee wedge itself between your thighs sends a shiver through your body, you feel him press it against your crotch causing the lace fabric of your panties to rub against your clit making you moan out in delight. He briefly pulls back from the kiss to catch his breath, playfully biting your plump lower lip. 

"You're so hot, princess..." he whispers in your ear before catching your earlobe between his lips and softly sucking on it. 

He slips his hand under your skirt and into your panties to sink his nails into your bare ass. Bucky looks into your eyes, “I want more of you Y/N..” he whispers. 

You feel heat rush to your stomach when he tells you that he wants more of you. You let out a gentle yelp when his nails dig into the skin of your ass and you find yourself instantly nodding your head like a mad woman, "I..I..Yes..I want you.." you say quickly.

Bucky shifts his knee back and replaces it with his other hand as he pulls your skirt up. You hear how he softly gasps at the feeling of wet lace against his fingertips before he applies more pressure and gently teases you through your panties in slow circles. 

"You're so wet already?" he hums. 

"Yeah, well..What did you expect when you're touching my pussy like it belongs to you?" you mumble with a hint of sarcasm.

"You mean to tell me it doesn't belong to me?" He teases you.

Bucky closes his eyes and traces your wet folds with his fingertips as if memorizing your contours before softly massaging them up and down, his thumb stroking your sensitive clit. You feel his middle finger sliding directly along your slit before slipping inside until his knuckles press against you. You feel how it curls inside you as he massages your sweet spot and begins to finger you.

"Promise me you'll stay quiet... We'll get in a lot of trouble if someone catches us doing this there." Bucky whispers while pulling down your panties with his other hand. 

The panties are quickly stuffed right into his pocket once they're off and he hastily unbuckles his belt. He slowly pulls his finger out of you before tasting you right off of it. 

"So sweet..." he utters and suddenly hoists you up along the wall with ease, spreading your legs to let the cool evening breeze hit your exposed crotch before he steps closer. 

You feel how his hard tip prods your clit a couple of times, rubbing up and down against it before he guides himself down to coat his cock in your wetness with stifled moans escaping past his lips.

Bucky begins to carefully slide himself into you, parting your pussylips with the tip of his cock and inch by inch, stretching you with his girth. A satisfied sigh escapes his lips as he rests his forehead against yours and clenches his jaw at the tightness of your pussy. 

"F-Fuck..." he breathes out once he’s fully inside you, twitching eagerly. 

"Is this how you usually act around the guys you hate?" he smiles. 

He doesn't let you answer and keeps you quiet with a kiss as he begins rocking his hips. Despite the size, it all feels so natural as he slides in and out of you. 

"For someone so bossy, it sure is amusing to see you pinned against the wall in a dark alley..." he whispers breathlessly against your lips as he gradually picks up the pace.

The sounds of your bodies softly smacking against one another echo through the alley and if anyone passing by were perceptive enough, they'd catch on to what was happening in the dark. You felt how he grew bigger with each thrust, how needily he was fucking you to alleviate the heat between the two of you. 

"I love the way you feel..." Lust laced his voice as your bodies melted against one another. 

You blush at his compliment and hope that he can't see the redness in your cheeks in the darkness of the alley. Bucky lowers one of your legs on the ground to lift the other higher, next to his shoulder as he continues to pound you. The new position made the tip of his cock slam into your sweet spot repeatedly making you cry out in ecstasy.

Fucking Bucky hadn't been in your plans today, you had wanted to ditch him at the restaurant, get picked up by a friend and head to a club opening. That plan had quickly been discarded when he'd pulled you into the alley. It felt like his cock was getting bigger inside of you causing your body to squirm with pleasure, your thighs were trembling with the intensity of his thrusts. 

You weren't exactly quiet but Bucky did nothing to stop you. Your inability to stop yourself from making any noise made him leave harsh bites across your neck. 

"You're so flexible... As if you couldn't get more perfect, princess..." he whispers into your ear. 

You’d been flexible your entire life, years of dance and yoga allowed your body to be stretched and bent in ways that the average person couldn't, but never had you been so thankful for your flexibility than you were in this moment. 

In the new pose, Bucky had managed to free up one of his hands to grip you tightly by the neck. 

"Don't you dare run away from me again." he grits out before slapping you across the cheek.  

You felt a slight pain radiating in your cheek from the slap, but the action had made a dumb smile appear on your face. Still that momentary harshness was followed up by his hand sliding down your body, across your abdomen and next to your crotch. As your pussy is being repeatedly split open by his cock, his fingertips creep in and begin gently massaging your aching clit, flicking it a couple of times before soothing it with some strokes. 

His fingers against your clit were all you needed for your climax to quickly start building, "Fuck..Fuck..Yes..Oh god, it's so good" you pant out breathlessly, your legs shaking with the desperate need to cum. 

You look at Bucky, "K..Keep going..I..I'm going to cum.." you whisper.

Bucky fucks you like you were his long before you met. You could see the possessiveness in his eyes while his thrusts became more powerful and rough. He locks eyes with you, "That's it... Cum for me, princess... Show me what a good girl you are..." he pants breathlessly.

 A shudder ran through your entire body when he called you a good girl and told you to cum, you couldn't have held back your climax even if you’d wanted to. Heat ran through your body and a wave of pleasure hit you hard, you let out a scream of ecstasy as you orgasm. Your legs are shaking with the intensity. 

“Oh fuck baby..I..I’m gonna..” he stutters out before reaching his own climax. 

You felt his cock twitch inside of you before filling you with cum, your pussy becoming overloaded to the point it began to drip down onto the concrete floor of the alleyway.

You both stay in that peaceful trance for a couple of moments before Bucky suddenly seems to get snapped back into reality. Without letting the awkward silence prolong, he grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls you closer. 

"We're going home." he says sternly, acting like the sex between you both didn’t happen. 

He holds you by the wrist and begins dragging you back to the car. You stumble after him as he drags you out of the alley and back towards the car. Once you get out onto the main street, you spot your friend's car up ahead not too far behind the SUV.

"That's my friend, I think I'll just get a lift home with them, I did call them after all, I wouldn't want it to be a wasted journey" you say snarkily. 

Two could play this game and you would not lose to Bucky Barnes, at least that’s what you thought.

Bucky turns toward you and clenches his jaw, "Funny," he snarls out and pulls you closer to him before picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder. 

He walks to the SUV and opens the passenger side door, he drops you inside and fastens your seatbelt. He climbs into the driver's side and starts the car but before he pulls away from the curb, he leans over and grabs your chin forcing you to look into his eyes, “You’re going to stay there and shut up. You’re going to behave and if you’re good, I’ll fuck you until you can’t see straight when we get back home. Understood?” he calmly explains. 

All you can bring yourself to do is utter the single word back, “Understood” you respond.

He smirks at your response, “Good girl” he whispers before putting his foot on the gas.

[yandereforme]

Part 4: Interlude: the girls and Alfred

TW: mentions of drug addiction

Barbara meets you first. She hears about you from Dick almost a dozen times before she does, but it’s when she first meets you she understands. She gets slowly more obsessed over the years, viewing you as the mom she never had. She briefly entertained the idea of setting you up with her father, but she quickly realized that you and Bruce are definitely in love, even if you don’t realize it, so she is fine with being your eldest pseudo daughter instead you becoming her step mother

I don’t know a whole lot about how Cass joined the family, but Barbara introduces the two of you and Cass takes to you like a duck to water. Your body language screams safety/love/hope and she soaks that up. You, after being given a watered down version of her early years, are definitely very soft with Cass, and you definitely learn sign language for her, which just adds an extra softness to the relationship. Cass is yandere, but very relaxed with it She knows you are safe and will not leave. She may occasionally shadow you when you are walking home just to make sure you’re safe, but on a whole, she is definitely the most relaxed of the Yanderes.

I mentioned this above, but Steph is introduced by Tim. She is the most open about things out of all the female Yanderes, and after a few months, she definitely starts calling you mama (first initial) ( this leads to the others picking up the habit. To be fair, the boys were just unsure about calling you mom, but after Steph, they had the go ahead.) Steph definitely is very physically affectionate, similar to Dick in the way she hangs off of you. She loves her mom, but her mom, depending on canon, is either always working or a drug addict, so a fully functional and open mother figure? Sign her up!

Alfred started preparing for you to come home the night of the parent teacher Conference, when Bruce came home with that look in his eyes. He knew what that was, that gleam in his charge’s eyes. When he meets you, he’s only further sure that you would be the next Mrs. Wayne. While he’s not completely yandere, he’s definitely complicit in whatever the children do to set you up with Bruce.

Edit: just want y’all to know there are only two more parts of this, maybe three.

Yan! Batfam x Teacher! Batmom

All platonic besides Bruce

First off, you were Dick’s teacher at Gotham Academy, and the most sympathetic to him. You knew how hard the transition was, especially since he had learned on his feet most of his life, so you decided to have most of your classes on their feet at some point, and offered him help with homework

Dick absolutely adored you. He was suspicious at first, but after a little while he grew way more comfortable. The change from the circus way of life to living in a city permanently and having to go to school was astronomical. You were the only teacher who seemed to realize that and try to help him. You threw a ball around for the class to answer things, played games to help people learn, and comforted/defended him when people looked down on him for his background.

People learned very quickly not to complain about you or your class, otherwise they would have to deal with ‘pranks’ like being doxxed, having their things ending up in trees, and their parents deals falling through.

On the first parent teacher night, Dick dragged Bruce over to you. Bruce had already heard of you from Dick and done his own surface level research on you.

The minute this man met you, he understood why Dick loved you so much. You just gave this aura of light and comfort that no one else could ever measure. You were kind and understanding and sweet.

(Note, Bruce isn’t completely yandere yet. He is starting to be, but I like slow burn. Dick is 100% yandere though.)

Dick threw a major tantrum when he learned he would have to leave your class. He was aggressive and started purposefully failing your class. It got to the point where you called a meeting between you and Bruce and Dick where you talked about everything.

You met with them at the manor, and after a few minutes, you managed to get it out of Dick why he was upset. You quietly told Dick that while you would miss him too, you would be very upset if he stayed back for him.

However, Bruce and Alfred managed a solution. With a few bribes to the school, they started a theatre club that you would run(they did research and knew you liked theatre) and that Dick would be your assistant, and he would still have the option after he graduated.

Everything was back to normal for you, besides the fact that all of your dates never lasted anymore. You couldn’t figure out why?

Then, Jason Todd was enrolled in your class

I hope you guys like this! This is my series for Romantic Yan! Bruce x Reader.

[d-z20]

Caught in the Crossfire (NSFW)

Pairing: Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: You're an FBI agent and get partnered with Agent Vidal on a big case. When the mission goes wrong and Rio gets shot, you are forced to stay at a safehouse together.

-OR-

They say orgasms are good for pain relief so you fuck Rio to make the pain go away 🙃

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, mention of gangs, gunfight, hurt (gunshot wound), smut, fluff

Words: 3.1k

A/N: They is me, I am they, I say orgasms are effective pain relief. Oh and this is another requested fic :)

AO3 link | Master List

Rio leans against the desk, tapping a pen against the stack of files she’s just dropped with a flourish. Her eyes pin you with a challenging stare. “Five bucks says you screw up this case before the week’s out.”

You glance up from your laptop, unimpressed. “Bold talk from someone who hasn’t cracked a case this big since Quantico. What’s the matter? Rusty?”

This was the rhythm of your partnership: sharp words, sharper looks, and a constant undercurrent of rivalry. You’d both been top recruits at the academy, though on completely different tracks—Rio had excelled at strategy and undercover work, while you were a natural at analysis and tactical planning. When you’d been paired for this joint case six months ago, it was clear you were opposites in every sense, and it made working together a special kind of hell.

The task force had been chasing a dangerous gang involved in arms trafficking. Their network spanned multiple cities, but all signs pointed to the heart of their operations being a hidden warehouse in the city. The gang was clever—covering their tracks with misdirection and red herrings—which made your job of piecing together clues exhausting. But a major break had come two weeks ago when Rio went undercover, infiltrating the gang as a low-level buyer. She’d managed to secure critical intel about their shipment routes and a few key players, but her cover had been blown when one of the gang members got too suspicious.

You’d both known the risk when she took the job, and while you’d been impressed by her quick thinking, you couldn’t ignore the danger that still lingered. Now, you were both back at square one, tracking their movements, one step closer to the warehouse and the showdown tonight.

“Tonight’s operation better go off without a hitch,” you grumble, glancing back down at the laptop. The tension between the two of you, always present when working these kinds of cases, never seems to go away.

Rio smirks and straightens up, walking closer as she flicks through some of the paperwork right next to your laptop.

“You’re standing too close,” you mutter, trying to ignore the way your heart beats a little faster at the sudden proximity.

Rio doesn’t budge, standing tall with that usual confidence. “You’re the one who can’t stand my brilliance that close to your face, huh?”

You grit your teeth, trying to focus on the case. “You just make everything more difficult.”

She smirks, eyes flicking to your lips as she leans in slightly. “I think you like it that way.”

—

The two of you sit in the cramped surveillance van, tracking the comings and goings of gang members through grainy security footage.

“Don’t get yourself killed tonight,” Rio mutters, strapping on her bulletproof vest. Her tone is teasing, but you catch the flicker of genuine concern behind her words.

“I’m not the one who’s always charging into danger,” you shoot back, pulling on your own vest.

“Someone has to, or we’d be stuck analysing spreadsheets all day,” she says, smirking.

Despite the banter, the tension in the air is palpable. This operation is the culmination of months of work, and failure isn’t an option.

—

The warehouse is eerily quiet when you enter. Your movements are synchronised—Rio leads the way, gun raised, while you keep watch.

“They’re here,” Rio whispers, gesturing toward the far end of the warehouse.

You nod, heart hammering in your chest. The two of you move closer to the group of gang members gathered around crates of weapons. Everything is going according to plan—until it isn’t.

A lookout you hadn’t accounted for shouts a warning. Instantly, all hell breaks loose. Bullets rain down as the gang opens fire.

“Take cover!” Rio shouts, pulling you behind a stack of crates.

You return fire, pulse racing as you try to assess the situation. “We’ve got to fall back!”

“Not yet,” Rio says, jaw tight. She pops up to return fire, but then a sudden cry of pain tears through the air. A bullet strikes her shoulder, and she collapses to the ground.

“Rio!” you shout, stomach dropping. Without thinking, you drag her behind a steel beam, using it for better cover.

“Stay down!” You bark, positioning yourself in front of her to shield her from the continuing onslaught.

“Don’t—” Rio winces, gripping her shoulder. “Don’t be an idiot. I can still—”

“Shut up and focus on not passing out,” you snap, returning fire as the adrenaline courses through your veins. The gang is closing in, and panic gnaws at you. You need to get her out of here.

—

The minutes before the rest of the task force storm the warehouse feel like hours; Rio is bleeding heavily from her wound, and all colour has faded from her face. The remaining gang members are finally subdued in a chaotic flurry of shouting and gunfire.

You don’t move from your position until the scene is secure. When it’s finally clear, you turn to Rio, voice tight. “You okay?”

“I’ve been better,” she mutters, her face pale but her signature smirk still intact. “But hey, you were pretty heroic back there. Almost makes me like you.”

“Save your breath,” you say, though relief is slowly replacing the panic that has gripped you earlier.

The on-site medic patches her up as best as they can; she was lucky the bullet went straight through, but her wound still needs close monitoring. You learn that a high-ranking gang member had slipped away at the start of all the chaos, but not before getting a good look at you and Rio. Since you know their network is likely everywhere, you decide transporting her to a hospital is too risky. You need a safehouse—a remote location where she can recover while you regroup.

—

The cabin is small, tucked away in a far-out forest. It’s equipped with basic supplies, offering the isolation you need to keep a low profile. You enter first, checking the place out. Then, you return to Rio, who is sitting on the edge of the bed, her arm in a sling, bandages covering her shoulder.

You linger by the door, watching her with an uncharacteristic softness you rarely show.

“If you’re here to scold me for getting shot, you can save it,” Rio says, her voice light but tired.

You step inside, setting a bottle of water down on the nightstand. “Actually, I’m here to make sure you don’t bleed out from being a stubborn idiot.”

“Touché,” she says, lips curving into a faint smile.

You hesitate, then take a seat beside her, the usual distance between you feeling smaller now. “You scared me back there,” you admit quietly, glancing down at her bandaged shoulder. “Don’t do that again.”

Her gaze softens as she looks at you. “I wasn’t planning on making it a habit. But you…” Her smirk returns, though it’s gentler this time. “You were incredible.”

Your cheeks heat, but you quickly brush it off with a shrug. “Someone had to keep you alive; the paperwork would’ve been horrendous otherwise.”

You turn towards her, carefully peeling off the bloody bandages on her shoulder. Your fingers brush against her skin as you work, and though Rio winces, she doesn’t utter a word of protest. The silence between you feels heavy but not uncomfortable.

As you apply the fresh bandages, you glance up, catching her watching you with an unreadable expression. Her lips quirk into a faint smirk, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“You’re too quiet,” you say softly, trying to distract her. “That’s not like you.”

“Trying not to ruin the moment,” she teases, though her voice is quieter than usual.

Your hands linger for a moment after you finish, your gaze falling to the wound. “You need to be more careful,” you murmur, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

She tilts her head, her smirk softening into something more sincere. “And miss the chance to see you play nursemaid? No way.”

You let out a quiet laugh, but your hand remains against her shoulder, your thumb grazing the edge of the bandage. Silence stretches between you, comfortable yet charged with the unspoken things neither of you have said before. 

Finally, Rio speaks again, her voice quieter now. “You didn’t have to risk yourself like that.”

You meet her gaze, your heart pounding in your chest. “Of course I did. I couldn’t just leave you.”

Her eyes hold yours, steady and searching, and for the first time, you don’t feel the need to look away. Her lips part, and she leans in, testing the waters with a soft kiss. It’s gentle, hesitant, but when you don’t pull away, she deepens the kiss.

You feel the weight of everything unravelling between you. The kiss is slow at first, exploring, but then it quickly becomes urgent and heated. Hands roam, pushing past the boundaries of what had been comfortable before. You feel her press into you, her warmth seeping into your skin, making you forget everything but the two of you.

When you pull away, breathless, her eyes are dark with something more than desire. “I want something with you,” she whispers, “something real.”

You kiss her again, this time with no hesitation, pulling her closer, as if you could somehow make up for all the time you’ve spent pretending not to like her. You take your time, making sure to be gentle with Rio’s injury, always mindful of her shoulder. As you kiss, your hands are careful, exploring her without rushing. You help her undress slowly, checking in with her each time, making sure she’s comfortable.

She groans softly when your lips trace her jaw, your fingers grazing across the tender spots where her bandages are. You can feel the heat between you building, but you stop to kiss her forehead, your breath shaky as you say, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Rio’s eyes soften, her fingers threading through your hair. “You never could,” she murmurs, pulling you closer.

You take your time, letting the moment stretch, the room filling with soft breaths and the quiet rustle of fabric. Every movement is deliberate, every touch mindful of the vulnerability hanging in the air.

Your hands move to her good shoulder, slipping under the strap of her tank top. The fabric slides away easily, baring more of her to your gaze. She doesn’t flinch, her smirk fading into something softer, more open.

“You’re beautiful,” you murmur, the words slipping out before you can second-guess them.

Rio lets out a soft laugh, the sound shaky but genuine. “Flattery? You should’ve tried that six months ago.”

You grin, leaning in to kiss the edge of her smirk, letting your lips linger on her skin. “Shut up, Rio,” you whisper, your voice tinged with affection.

Her hand finds your waist, tugging you closer with surprising strength for someone who’d been shot hours ago. You go willingly, straddling her carefully as your lips reconnect, the kiss growing deeper. Heat coils in your chest, spreading outward as her touch becomes bolder, her fingers sliding under your shirt.

You break the kiss only long enough to pull your top over your head, tossing it aside before leaning back in. Her lips move to your neck, trailing kisses down to your collarbone, each one sending sparks through you. You gasp softly when her teeth graze your skin, her smirk returning against your neck.

“You like that?” She teases, her voice low and rough.

“Maybe,” you reply, breathless but playful. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Her answer is wordless, her good hand slipping down your back, finding every sensitive spot with ease. You shiver under her touch, your own hands exploring her, mapping the curve of her waist and the muscles of her back.

You’re careful not to put pressure on her injured shoulder, but Rio doesn’t seem to care about her pain. She pulls you closer, her body warm against yours, her breaths coming faster now.

You press your forehead to hers, your hands cupping her face. “Tell me if it’s too much,” you whisper, your voice thick with concern.

She shakes her head, her eyes blazing with determination. “The only thing too much is how long it took us to get here.”

Her words undo you, and you close the distance again, your kisses turning hungrier. You guide her gently back onto the bed, her good arm still wrapped around you as you settle over her. You continue your path down Rio’s body, lips pressing softly against every inch of skin you uncover. Your hands trail after your mouth, fingers tracing the delicate curve of her waist and the softness of her hips. Her body reacts to your touch, each shiver and soft gasp urging you on, drawing you deeper into the moment.

When your lips reach the hollow of her stomach, you pause, your hands resting on either side of her hips. You glance up at her, catching the way her chest rises and falls in anticipation, her hand gripping the sheets beneath her. The sight of her laid bare before you, trusting and vulnerable, sends a wave of warmth coursing through you. You press a kiss to her skin, just below her ribs, before continuing lower.

Your hands move carefully, sliding down her thighs, coaxing them apart with a gentle nudge. She complies without hesitation, her breath catching as you trail soft kisses along the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. You take your time, teasing, your mouth lingering just long enough to leave her trembling, her good hand reaching down to tangle in your hair.

“Please,” she murmurs, her voice breathy and full of need, and it’s all the encouragement you need.

You shift lower, your hands resting lightly on her thighs, holding her steady as your lips finally find her. The first touch is tentative and exploratory, but the way her body responds—back arching, a soft moan slipping from her lips—spurs you on. Your tongue moves slowly at first, drawing circles, learning what makes her gasp and writhe beneath you. You use your fingers to spread her gently, your movements precise and deliberate, ensuring every sensation is heightened.

Her reactions guide you, every sigh and breathless plea telling you exactly what she needs. When you slip a finger inside her, she tenses for a moment before relaxing, her body welcoming your touch. You match the rhythm of your hand to the movements of your tongue, building a steady pace that has her gripping the sheets tightly, her head tipping back as her moans grow louder.

Her body begins to tremble, her breathing ragged as she nears the edge. You don’t falter, your movements becoming more focused, more insistent, until she finally cries out, her body arching sharply as she shatters beneath you. You hold her through it, your hands steady on her thighs, your mouth gentle as you help her ride out the waves of her climax.

When she finally comes down, her body relaxes, her limbs heavy as she lies back against the bed, chest heaving. You crawl back up to her, pressing soft kisses along her stomach, her collarbone, and finally her lips. She kisses you back with a lazy, satisfied fervour, her hand cupping your cheek as if to keep you close.

You rest beside her, your fingers resting gently on her chest. The silence between you feels easy now, filled with something unspoken but understood. Rio tilts her head to meet your eyes; her smirk softened into something sincere.

“Didn’t know you had that in you,” she teases, her voice quiet but laced with affection.

You smirk back, brushing a stray hair from her face. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Guess I’ll have to stick around to find out.”

Her words linger in the air, heavy with promise, and for once, you don’t feel the need to deflect. You lean in, pressing a final kiss to her forehead as her eyes drift closed, exhaustion finally claiming her.

—

You wake to the faint light of dawn filtering through the curtains. Rio is still beside you, her face softened in sleep, her chest rising and falling steadily. You watch her for a moment, a quiet smile tugging at your lips before you carefully slip out of bed, pulling the blanket up over her.

The cabin’s kitchen is small, almost comically so, but you’re determined to make breakfast. You rummage through the limited supplies, finding eggs and a questionable loaf of bread. Cracking the eggs into a pan, you curse softly when some of the shell slips in. The stove sputters, and the toast burns on one side before you can flip it.

“Do you always declare war on breakfast?” Rio’s voice startles you, and you whip around to see her leaning against the doorframe, her arm still in its sling.

“Hey! You’re supposed to be resting,” you scold, pointing the spatula at her.

She raises an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching into a smirk. “I’d rather take my chances with gunfire than whatever you’re cooking.”

You roll your eyes, turning back to the stove. “I’m making you breakfast, so sit down and let me work my magic.”

Rio pads over to the table, still smirking. “If this kills me, make sure they write ‘death by toast’ on my gravestone.”

“Har, har,” you mutter, but you can’t help the small laugh that escapes you. As you set the slightly overcooked meal in front of her, she looks up at you with an amused glint in her eyes.

“You’re really taking this whole ‘overprotective partner’ thing seriously, huh?” She teases, though her voice softens as she adds, “Not that I’m complaining.”

You sit across from her, leaning your chin on your hand. “Someone has to look out for you. You’re not exactly great at self-preservation.”

Rio smiles, a genuine warmth in her gaze that makes your chest ache. “I don’t mind it. Feels… nice. Safe.” Her fingers brush yours on the table, a small but deliberate gesture. “Guess I’m sticking around for more than just the breakfast disasters.”

Your laugh is soft, but your voice carries a tenderness you rarely let slip. “I’ll try not to burn the toast next time.”

“Don’t change too much,” Rio says, her smirk returning as she takes a bite of the slightly charred toast. “I kind of like you the way you are.”

Her words settle between you, light and teasing but laced with a sincerity that fills the room with warmth. For the first time, the future doesn’t feel like something to fear—it feels like something you might actually look forward to.

[rlyehtaxidermist]

December 2-3, 1984

It's been forty years since a Union Carbide chemical plant exposed five hundred thousand people to methyl isocyanate in Bhopal, India. Thousands were killed in the initial event, thousands more died from complications months or years later, and at least a hundred thousand were permanently injured.

The cause of the incident was the introduction of water to a methyl isocyanate storage tank. This caused a runaway reaction, overpressurising the tank from 14 to 280 kPa over the course of two hours, at which point the tank cracked - but even with atmospheric escape of the gas, pressure continued to increase to nearly 400 kPa - at which point the gauge could no longer give an accurate reading.

After roughly 30 tonnes of gas escaped, employees triggered the plant's alarm system - which was originally designed to alert both workers in the plant and the people in the surrounding city. Company policy mandated that they not alarm the populace about "inconsequential" leakages, so the two alarms had been decoupled by the time of the release. For nearly an hour and a half, the plant's management continued to tell authorities that everything was fine and they had no idea what had happened. Hospital staff had to guess what gas was causing the symptoms. No shelter in place order was given; the public siren remained silent for an hour and a half.

Union Carbide had identified 61 hazards at the Bhopal plant in a 1982 audit, but never followed up on the inspection. Mere months before the incident, UCC discussed the possibility of a methyl isocyanate reaction similar to what occurred in Bhopal at one of their West Virginia plants - however, the report and its predictions were never forwarded to the Bhopal plant, despite the similar design and process.

The Union Carbide Corporation asserts that the incident was caused by sabotage performed by a disgruntled worker. They claim that workers conspired with the Indian government to hide evidence of sabotage in order to blame the company, claiming that the safety systems were sufficient to prevent the incident without human intervention.

On the night of the incident, the tank's monitoring equipment had been malfunctioning for years, reduced to a single manually operated backup. Management had shut off refrigeration of the tank, keeping it at more than 15 degrees Celsius above the recommended temperature. The emergency flare and gas scrubbers had been out of order for months - and even if they had been active, they had insufficient capacity. Deluge guns - a type of pressurised water cannon intended to dissolve escaping gas - lacked enough pressure to even reach the gas cloud.

No motive for the alleged sabotage was suggested.

Warren Anderson, CEO of Union Carbide, refused to answer homicide charges by the Indian government, with the US government denying repeated requests for extradition. He died in 2014, months before the thirtieth anniversary of the disaster in Bhopal.

Union Carbide have divested their stake in their Indian subsidiary UCIL, and refuse to fund any efforts to clean up the abandoned site, insisting that the fault lied with UCIL management and the alleged saboteur. The company paid $470 million dollars to the Indian government - which worked out to a cost of 43 cents per share of the company. Union Carbide's annual earnings were $4.88 per share after the Bhopal settlement.

The 2012 Global Intelligence Files leak revealed that Union Carbide's current owner, Dow Chemical, had employed the surveillance firm Stratfor to monitor activists seeking compensation for the Bhopal disaster.

Dow responded to the email leak that they were "required to take appropriate action to protect their people and safeguard their facilities" - an attitude that seems to have been very lacking in 1984.

[ir-abelas-vhenan]

Daily Dose of Solas-Posting Time/just a love of what love can achieve I guess?

I think a lot of people in this fan space struggle to distinguish the apparently very blurred line between "oh look, this poster likes Solas and must therefore condone murder to achieve one's goals", and "rad, she understands that this is a game in which characters do things she would never approve of in real life but given the fact that these are all tiny people on a screen she enjoys extrapolating larger themes"

And for those of you in that second camp how freaking beautiful is it that we get to see one of the oldest saddest elves go on an absolute bender and still get the chance to make things right because he has a friend/lover who knows his heart and refuses to let him hide from it any longer.

Varric disapproves of trying to save him at the end of Trespasser and clearly at some point within the next eight years goes "you know what? This sassy nerdy passionate guy was my friend once and I believe in what he could be if he gives up on the self-destructive path he's chosen"

Harding struggles to fathom what the Inquisitor sees in a disingenuous clefted egg but knows that if nothing else she trusts her friends and for all my critiques of Veilguard I do think Bellara gets a baller of a line with the "trust your heart, it is a good one" banger. Harding may not know exactly how she feels about Solas (and yeah that is so fair) but she knows the Inquisitor's heart is a good one, and if they're trying to save him, she trusts it. She chooses to believe that in an ever-darkening world there is power in restoring a little bit of light.

Your Inquisitor has the option to be like "wow this guy was my friend, occasional confidante (and potentially the most brutal love of my life), fought alongside me and guarded my life as I guarded his, and spoke so wistfully of things I did not understand at the time but now realize came from a place of deep grief. The way he's acting now stems from hurt and trauma and I know it'd be easier to just stab him with his own dagger but what if what if what if..."

And if you're able to look at his story at its simplest (if you're able to see past the broken man and into the spirit of wisdom he once was, if you will) it's really just the grandest version of pre-EA Bioware's bread and butter theme for at least a few companions per game: even the most broken people are capable of changing themselves and ultimately the world for the better if those who can reach out a hand do. And the Inquisitor only has the one hand to reach out, in fact they only have that one hand because of the very man they're hunting down, but if they can find it in themselves to extend it, damn. It brings a broken man back to his feet after an absolutely brutal confrontation of his past and helps him stand tall and face what's coming next in a way he wouldn't have been capable of otherwise. It lets Solas, who is at his absolute lowest, know that someone he strongly admires, who can relate to the challenges he once faced as the young leader of a massive movement, sees the parts of him that just want to do what's right but can't quite remember how anymore.

And to someone who hasn't fought in a war or forged the tools that wrecked entire civilizations, sure maybe that wouldn't hit as hard. But who amongst us hasn't betrayed the core of who we are to make others happy and regretted it? Who hasn't charged down a path that sent thorns digging into their skin with every step because to stop and turn back means facing everything they've done to get there? Means admitting they were wrong? Who hasn't hit a low and crawled their way back to themselves again because that hand came down and refused to let go?

To someone like that, like me, it can make all the difference in the world to see it go down on that tiny little screen.

Mmmmm there's just so much power in having even one person who sees you self-destructing at your worst and goes "not on my watch" and I love that most of these games have brought us such beautifully simple yet meaningful ideas in so many different ways.

[ladyazurith]

More thoughts on Cater's Dream.

So I wanted to post some of my thoughts on the preview we got for Cater’s card. First off, I’m excited, I thought it would probably be January at the earliest before we saw Heartslabyul’s arc. Cater’s dream is one I’ve been looking forward to the most but also held some anxiety. I’ve taken a lot of time to analyze his character from the pieces sprinkled in the main story, various events, and personal stories we have. I’ve probably looked at every scrap of information and interaction we have for him. He’s a character near and dear to my heart, likely not a surprise for anyone who’s seen my writing.

For the actual Analysis:  

Firstly, I do personally think it’s pointing to him being in charge of *something* the title of King is pretty straightforward, along with the crown on his cheek in place of his diamond. While I can agree it is possible and likely pointing toward him being Heartslabyul’s Dorm Leader/Housewarden in his dream. I think this is an odd choice for his character. The only way I see this being a way that leads to ‘happiness’ for him, is because he’s the type of person that likes to help other people. This has been demonstrated over and over. And by taking on the role of dorm leader, he’s taking that pressure off of Riddle and Trey, which is what leads to Riddle’s overblot. In this position, he can make their lives better/happier. 

I also think the presence of his skateboard indicates that his version of the dorm will be very laid back, where people aren’t afraid like they were under RIddle’s rule pre-overblot. 

There is also the idea that this is all misleading, and it has nothing to do with Heartslabyul and his “King of Tricks” title is because he’s overseeing some kind of Skateboarding tournament. But that’s not a ‘real’ prediction just a bit of a joke I thought might be funny. 

What I don’t think this indicates is that he was the *former* house warden/dorm leader as I see many people speculate. It’s an old theory but had been going around more now that this card has been revealed. To me, that theory never made sense, for two main reasons. One is very blatant. Riddle respects Cater, a lot. He sees him as a friend and even looks up to him in certain areas (he makes comments about not embarrassing Cater in flight class etc). And it’s very clear he doesn’t respect the former dorm leader *at all*. And Secondly, it doesn’t fit Cater’s personality to pursue that position. He doesn’t want the responsibility. If it turns out I’m wrong, I’ll accept it, but I’ll be looking for a really good explanation for the things I’ve mentioned here.  There are other problems I have with the theory but honestly, they’d take their own post. 

One of the things I hope to see in Cater’s dream because it would fit in with Malleus’s own struggle and what we do know of Cater and his struggles, is that he’s surrounded by people he’s truly friends with in his dream, who he doesn’t have to worry about saying goodbye to. It’s referenced more than once that Cater has moved around so much and struggles to be remembered by those he meets and has a hard time forming bonds with other people. If they don’t leverage that angle here I will be unbelievably disappointed.

[honeygr-ls]

The Shadows And The Light - Chapter One

In the chaotic streets of Zaun, you run a small clinic, offering help to anyone who needs it. When Sevika, Silco's notorious right hand, shows up wounded, an unlikely bond forms between you. As she struggles with her violent life and feelings of unworthiness, you challenge her to see herself, and the people of Zaun, differently. Through shared danger and quiet moments, your connection begins to grow and flourishes into something beautiful

The clinic reeked of antiseptic and blood, the metallic tang hanging in the humid air of Zaun. You tightened the straps of your apron over your shoulders, wiping sweat that threatened to trickle down your brow. You were exhausted, tending to injuries and sickness throughout the whole day and night. Another gang fight, another line of broken and injured people stumbling through the door of the clinic.

The clinic had belonged to your late mother, left to you after her untimely and tragic death. You had taken her place as the clinic's head doctor, treating and taking care of Zaunites for around three years already.

You had just about finished cleaning up the last of the bloodied tables in the back when you heard a faint rattle at the front door of the building. Curiosity led you to the front door (not before grabbing a sharp scalpel for protection, of course), and you startled back when the rattling got even more frantic. Your eyes widened, and your heart leapt to your throat, but you steeled yourself and cracked the door open.

Your eyes widened at the sight of Silco's right hand, Sevika, towering over you as she clutched her side. Her face was pale and slick with sweat. You could notice her grey shirt was seeping with crimson blood. Her mechanical arm rested up against the door's frame, the faint whirring of its gears filling the silence.

“Well? You gonna let me bleed out here?” She barked out, her voice laced with a pained strain.

“Shit, right, come in.” You rushed out, widening the door and ushering her inside.

She stumbled in without so much as a thank you and swayed back and forth before she collapsed on your worn-out (and freshly washed) examination table with a low grunt.

You got to work, thoroughly cleansing your hands in alcohol to disinfect them, as well as grabbing your sterilised tools and bringing them over to the steel table next to where Sevika lay. Tension hung in the air as you started to survey her state and injury wound.

Sevika had always been larger than life - commanding, cold the kind of person who hardly ever asked for help. You've seen her around Zaun multiple times and often heard of her through whispers of your clients, But this is the first time she has ever come to your clinic, which caused confusion to swirl through your brain. You never got why she hadn't come before as you knew how much of a ruthless fighter she was, which was bound to end in injuries. Your help was free of charge aswell, the clinic running on donors and loans from a numerous amount of different people.

Snapping back to the task at hand, you pressed down gently around the wound (which you confirmed to have been caused By a bullet), surveying Sevika's reaction. She groaned and twitched on the table, spewing out a string of curses and glaring at you with fury in her eyes.

“Sorry,” you looked up at her with a guilty expression on your face. “I'll have to cut open your top so I can properly disinfect the wound and remove the bullet.” You said briskly to mask your unease.

Sevika puffed out a breath, glancing at you as a faint, pained smirk tugged at her lips.

“If you wanted to see me naked, you could’ve just asked.” She groaned out, shifting slightly on the table.

“I cannot believe you're joking right now.” You replied through clenched teeth, turning around to grab scissors to try and mask your blush. You took a deep breath and turned around, starting to cut her top open.

You inspected the wound more closely once her top was off.

“Mm…this is deep, how long has it been bleeding?” You asked as you slipped on a fresh pair of gloves.

She let out another pained huff and your eyes flitted up to her face, sweat beginning to drip down her brow.

“Couple hours. Got attacked on my way back from a meeting. Didn't think I'd need stitches.” She gritted out, squeezing her eyes shut.

You hummed and pressed a clean cloth to her wound, causing her to jolt and hiss in pain. “Clearly you were wrong.”

Sevikas glare burned into your skull, but you didn't falter. “Stay still.” You ordered, reaching over to your tray of tools and grabbing a syringe of anaesthetic. “This is going to hurt if you don't.”

“Probably hurts less than most of the shit that goes on down here.” She huffed but complied with your instructions anyway, leaning her head back with a soft thud against the cool steel of the table.

The words hung between you, an understanding surrounding the two of you as you cleaned up her wound more thoroughly.

“You keep up saying shit like that, and I'll start to think you're into poetry or something.” You murmured, breaking the tension between the both of you.

“Nah, poetry isn't really my style.” She chuckled weakly.

“Hm, you don't say?” You quipped, Beginning to thread the needle, getting everything ready for when you put her under with anaesthetic. You cast a glance her way and faltered when you seen her expression. You wondered to yourself how this was the Sevika that most of the undercity feared - A ruthless fighter proud and unyielding. Yet when you looked at her now, all you could see was a tired woman who was in pain.

“Why do you do this?” She asked, her voice just above a whisper.

Your hands faltered at her question. “Do what?”

“This.” She gestured vaguely around the room, “Helping people, you don't even bring in any profit from it. What's the point?”

“I don't care about profit. I care About helping the people of Zaun to the best of my abilities Because, for fuck sake, no one else will.” You gritted out, anger overcoming your senses as you pictured all the homeless, starved, broken down and abused Zaunites in your head. You had never thought about making A profit out of what You had done; it just wasn't in your nature. All you wanted to do was make even the slightest of differences for the people suffering down here due to Topside’s negligence.

Sevika stared at you, her grey eyes roaming over your frame. “That's naïve.”

You sighed. “Maybe…but I would rather try than cast a blind eye to it.”

You grabbed the anaesthetic needle and lined it up to her skin. Giving her no warning before pushing it in. After a few seconds, blackness swarmed her vision, and she slacked against the table, out like a light.

[red5tars]

minors + ageless blogs dni or you will be blocked

*taps mic*

gaz who hears about a cadet disrespecting price.

cw: dub-con, insulting price

he does his best to remain level-headed on base, especially when he has so many people looking up to him. he’s been in their shoes, is still in their shoes and that’s because of price.

in fact, kyle wouldn’t be here without him, so he can’t help but feel indebted to him.

that’s why he has to enact vengeance when he hears some little shit is talking shit-

“ol’ geezer’s about a foot away from the grave. needs to retire before he bypasses his glory days-“

so, he sets off to find them, storming through the halls of the base. it takes him a while, but then he hears a faint insult.

“-bet he’s already senile-“

and the last thing kyle expected was to hear such horrendous things come from such a sweet little thing. he recognizes you, a military brat. price briefed him about you, little nepo baby who thinks they’re above it all. fortunately, kyle wasn’t in charge of your squadron, never having to cross paths with you.

till you insulted his captain.

you hardly even notice kyle (the name was the only thing that got passed down to you, not the skills), only noticing him when he’s a foot from your table. the two lackeys beside you freeze, but you hardly acknowledge him.

“can i help you?” it’s condescending, the way your lips push out the words. an air of disinterest surrounds you, making kyle clench his fist.

“heard you were badmouthing the captain, is that true, cadet?” kyle asks, trying to stay civil. on the other hand, you couldn’t care less, merely rolling your eyes.

“i was, don’t think that’s any of your concern though is it, sergeant?” a coy smile stretches across your face, eyes drifting to your lackeys. it’s supposed to be funny, but they aren’t laughing.

kyle takes a deep breath, counting to ten before speaking again, “it is my concern, cadet. if we catch you being disrespectful again, it could result in your-“

“oh who cares what you have to say, dick rider?”

it’s almost as if the whole world goes silent when you say that.

kyle stares at you for three uneasy minutes, your fellow cadets quietly shuffling away as the man stares you down. the weight of this situation has yet to fall down on you.

you cock your head, “well? got anything to say, sarge? hm?”

and while he doesn’t have anything to say, he has something to do.

actions speak louder than words, after all.

rather than speak some sense into you, he’ll just fuck it into you. strong hands gripping your waist as your back arches off the bed, fingers entangling in his sheets. you make a pretty sight, despite the ugly shit you spew.

and when you’re on the verge of cumming, sloppy walls hugging so tightly, trying to memorize every bump, vein, curve of his dick, he pulls out.

he answers your whine and whimpers with a breathy, “until you say you’re sorry, and mean it,” your mouth clamps shut, a half baked apology already on your lips, desperate for release (cute), “then you can cum, brat.”

the next morning, kyle brings you to price’s office to apologize.

it’s obvious you’ve been kicked off your high horse, given the way you tremble and the fragrant stench of sex that entered his office the same time kyle and you strolled in.

he can only smile with pride, knowing that his sergeant put you in your place.

which is beneath them.

[universalzones]

"Correct me if I'm mistaken, though wasn't Surge the only one who damaged that town? I remember mentioning Kitsunami only showed after the damage was done, and snuck out without anyone even seeing him. Other than that all his direct attacks were only against Sonic and Tails, which I doubt either will admit to GUN. In that sense they shouldn't have any legal authority to arrest him, or at the very least give him a lesser charge of being an accessory." Blaze could only see them getting him as an accessory, unless Surge said something to disprove that.

"Not to mention I don't think I agree with their claim Belle is a badnik. I mean, seems to be she's only made choices to help people and stop Eggman. I think that means she's just her own person and has rights. Not sure if you know this, though she's also got a bit of a good reputation going around Mobius. It'd be a bad look to take Belle in and claim she might be a badnik." Rowan guessed his sister being a highly respect lawyer helps.

"I'm not sure if this is of any help, though the head of the village I was built in granted me a birth certificate, and he was also legally voted and registered as mayor of the village. That means I'm a formal citizen, right?" Belle had never given it much thought than a meaningful gift from the mayor, though maybe it could actually come in handy.

"Legally it does as by default you would've been assigned a social security number which GUN should easily be able to look up in a matter of seconds if they have too. I'd say whenever you call the president back inform this to them and let Belle talk to them. Under that kind of pressure it could twist his arm to not look at it as a badnik. No threats, no schemes, or tricks involved. Just pure facts."

"Well, at least we found some legal ground to stand on. At the very least we stand a high chance of preventing Belle from being arrested and possibly lessening Kitsunami's charges to just being an accessory. It should make it easier to take the pill of shutting down for the time being go down easier."

"Yeah, it really doesn't, though I guess we'll just have to take it. Unless anyone else has any last minute ideas to get GUN to buzz off." Rowan doubts anyone has any other ideas or legal loopholes at this point. The lemur would hopefully be able to convince her sister to defend Surge and Kitsunami at the very least.

Lanolin's eyes were locked on the floor as everyone spoke there minds, among them perhaps only Blaze fully understood there situation. For what it was worth there world had rarely relied on the Federation, but it had always been a ruling body. They made the laws, they controlled the military, they had all the capital. If there was one organization that held all the cards in this world it was them. Trying to bully there way to victory felt like a sure fire way to piss them off. Sure they could threaten them with Sol's military, but then what? They come some kind of new military power? Who then do they answer to? As much as she HATED it! and she did, she didn't see a path to victory.

" It doesn't matter if they knew about Clutch or, Surge and Kitsunami, or even Belle and did nothing. The fact is when presented to the public how do you think it would reflect on us? Harboring Criminals who destroyed half a city. Hiding a Badnik within the base, and consorting with a knowing crime boss... GUN doesn't even need to fabricate a story--- They could tell the truth and it would still look bad for us. "

She spoke in a softer tone as she tensed up and seemed to feel the weight of her position for the first time. This was what it meant to be a leader--- saying what no one wanted to hear.

" Having leverage is good, But we can't just throw it in there face either. One miss step, one wrong sentence, and they declare restoration went rogue... cease our assets, cut off our fending, and declare its members criminals... They don't need to attack us today, to win tomorrow, and expecting Sol to step in with military force--- that looks like Blaze is planning an invasion... "

Her eyes went to Belle as she looked tired all of a sudden, like the day was wearing on her. The weight of what they faced had already dawned on her and she could not find a victory condition. No She had a feeling that the Federation had them dead to rights.

" I don't disagree belle but how do you think GUN would spin that? We both know Omega is like a dog to them, they send him in to clean house, and keep him under constant observation. "

Miles had been listening for awhile now without speaking a word to anyone. He just looked to have been thinking long and hard. It was a complicated mess, and Lanolin was right that going at this with a club was going to be messy. Confronting them with what little information they had, was going to backfire and it would make it all worse he figured.

Yet there was another option and Lanolin had already hinted at it.

" If we confront them now we lose, its just that simple. Showing our cards at this juncture... We'd tip our hand to early. As much as i hate to admit it... I think here today we have ot concede... let them have there little investigation really no other course that doesn't lead to conflict between us and the federation... "

" However, what we need is evidence that this was a big plot on there end. If we can prove that then in court we might have a chance... with enough capital and the right lawyers we can argue our case. But trying to argue it with this president here and now? it's like yelling at cop because he's gonna give you a ticket... or worse trying to bribe the cop. "

" that's my play, we let them think they've won and act behind the scenes--- Convert operations. It's our best play...we can use mimic as a bargaining chip to show our good will. Once we know more we can make a plan to counter GUN and the Federation but right now... if we act rashly we end up terrorists on a watch list... that's my idea, and i think our best shot of saving restoration "

Sonic didn't respond as he was staring at the wall grinding his teeth. He didn't get angry often but, this was one of those moments he felt like he was being dicked over. Yea Tails might be right but, he didn't have to like it! He knew the kid was smart, and maybe a conflict would be bad! but letting these guys use shitty political tactics on them sucked!

" So that's it? Just roll over and play dead? I'm still for butt kickin' let them call me a terrorist if they want... they can do it while choking on there teeth--- But what ever the plan i'll do my part. But this kinda stuff ain't my style... "

[ddreamywitch]

Chapter Seven - Take Me to Church

knight!benjicot x princess!reader

Word count: 3.5k

Song: Take Me to Church - Hozier

a/n: Benji pov fans (me) RISE UPP!!

Benji's mind is spinning in circles like never before.

What has he done?

Why has he done it?

He looks at you, your cheeks an intense shade of cherry-red and he wants to throw up a little bit.

How could he do this to you? How could he have done this to you?

You are so soft and innocent, you are to be wed, you are the king's daughter. 

His uncle must be right. He is a man barely in charge of his instincts. 

"Would you stop looking at me like that," you say.

He clears his throat and steps back. "Apologies," he mumbles. Then he takes another, precautionary step back, because he feels the closeness is only making things worse. 

There is an arm's length distance between the two of you now and you are looking at him very confused. 

Maybe he should jump off the tower. 

You hum an unsure sound, a question of what to do now. 

Benji clears his throat again. "Apologies, princess, I should not have been so..."

"So un-knightly?" you offer to finish his sentence. 

He nods. Now you look a bit hurt and he wishes he could turn back time. 

Ser Benjicot of House Blackwood was certainly no stranger to a woman's touch but this is certainly new territory to him. This is a woman far above him. He had never had affiliations with somebody like this. In all honesty, he had never even spoken to a noble woman that outranked him for longer than a fleeting moment before he had met her. 

None of this would have happened if he hadn't threatened to kill the entirety of the Bracken clan during their meetings to make peace. 

A statement he still feels is justified given how those depraved heathens act. 

"Benji, would you please say anything," you plead.

"Hmm, can't." It comes out sounding as though he's swallowing his own bile, which is also what is happening. Oh god in heaven above, what had he done. 

You pick up the discarded tiara and per instinct he averts his eyes, as if his tongue hadn't just been stuck in your throat mere minutes ago. 

They were going to execute him for this. And you would be shunned.

Who even is ‘they’? Nobody knows. 

"Nobody can ever find out," he says.

You snort as you sort your ridiculous feathered monstrosity of a tiara out on your head. "I wasn't about to tell the town-crier, Benjicot, I am not slow."

No, that is right you are not. Why had you even kissed him? Or had he kissed you?

"My god, all those stories about you impaling people and yet you stand before a woman quivering."

He meets your eyes and it feels like a punch to his stomach, right where he is the most vulnerable, but he doesn't understand why he feels that way.

"I'm sorry."

You seem mad. "I will go to my chambers now. Will Ser Corrigan take the night's watch?"

Ser Corrigan? What an odd face to think about at this moment. A weathered, old man, such a harsh contrast to whom he is looking at now, with your soft edges and your softer lips and those eyes that are looking at him with much intensity. 

"I believe yes." 

You nod and lift your dress, decidedly making your way down the stairs again. 

He remains where he is, incapable of moving even as he listens to your steps get quieter. 

Why, why, why can he never ever think before he acts? 

His feet drag across the floor, heavy with the weight of his decisions as he follows you down into the heart of the castle. 

He catches up with you just as you're about to slam the door into his face. 

Per instinct his hand shoots out, just for it to be squashed. 

You gasp in horror, which is so tooth-achingly sweet that it makes his veins burn. 

Ser Corrigan is standing by the door and glances back and forth between the two of you.

"My god, Ser Benjicot," you scold and open the door a little wider. 

There's a twitch in your fingertips and he'd like to think that it's because you want to reach for him, even if it's only to see if he's injured.

Which he isn't. "It's fine, I will just bruise."

You pout, in that angry way you tend to, clearly not satisfied with his answer. 

"Step inside, I wish to have a word for you."

Ser Corriggan harrumphs. You both look at him confused. In fact you look a little bit like you are realising just now that he is also present for this exchange. 

"Princess, I am certain that the Lord of the house will soon arrive to question your early departure from dinner," he reminds you. 

Benji wishes that ugly toad would fall down a flight of stairs. The Cathcart toad. He doesn't have an issue with Corrigan. Except, perhaps, for the fact that he is here and talking when he feels the very deep-rooted need to explain himself to you. 

You sigh. "Would you please send him away when he comes? I am in no mood to be infantilized by an overgrown boy."

Ser Corrigan nods. but there is doubt etched into the lines of his face. 

Benji wants to say something to him but he has no time to, your fingers are forceful in the leather plates on his forearm. 

Tamsyn looks terrified. 

Benji is painfully aware that she is terrified of him. He misses Marion. Not that he knew her well, but she didn't look like she may hurl the moment he laid eyes on her, the way that this girl is.

"You are excused," you tell her and he's glad but yet there is an inkling of nervosity in his chest, scratching at the walls of his insides. 

You grab his hand, twist and turn it. He tries to not let it bother him. "It doesn't hurt," he says.

One thumb presses into the back of it. "Does this hurt?"

The wince is stopped in his throat but he can't hide his facial expression betrays him.

"Why in the world would you do that? The door cannot be locked anyway," you scold and drop his hand.

You cross the room, a glimmering green flurry of layers. 

He stands there, like some sort of unwanted fixture until you return from your vanity with a tiny vial and a long white piece of fabric, the function of which he cannot identify until it is ripped by your wrathful hand. 

"Is that your veil?", he asks. You don't answer.

Instead you grab his hand and leave a generous trail of your oil across his knuckles. "It's arnica, lavender and rosemary. This is supposed to be your good hand, you cannot ruin yourself so carelessly."

"You are being theatrical," he tells you and regrets it when your face goes sour like spoiled milk.

"Am I? Am I being dramatic? The only reason you are still here is your ability to kill quicker than you think." 

It hurts him where you want it to hurt him. "Why are you so enraged?"

With a poking finger you guide him to the bed. "Sit," you order. If he wasn't already on thin ice, he'd make a joke about how commandeering you can be.

It reminds him of when you had set his nose, except then you had cowered down to be at eye level with him. You don't do that now and with a lot less gentleness you wrap up his hand. 

Entirely unnecessary, but he feels he should let you or else you might actually break a finger of his. Or two. 

"You know what I meant." It becomes a question as it rolls off his tongue. 

"You didn't even say anything to be misunderstood, Lord Benjicot Blackwood." 

His name is an insult, by the way it drips with venom. 

"I must have, because why else would you be trying to strangle my wrist."

Your touch loosens in an instant. 

"Well, if you must know, I would have hoped for something more than watching you nearly throw up into the courtyard right after shoving your tongue into places where into places where it isn't supposed to be."

It is hard to not grin but social complexities aren't entirely lost on him. 

"My apologies."

"Not accepted," you mumble through gritted teeth and finish up the bandages. "Find some herbs for me and I might consider accepting."

He nods as he looks up at you, praying that you don't notice that you're still holding his hand.

Your face is stern, a look so unnatural on you, he wants to wipe it off. 

"I will find herbs," he promises and unthinkingly, maybe unknowingly, he isn't certain, his thumb swipes a circle across your knuckles.

Knuckles that have never hurt, knuckles free of scars, softer than his hands have ever been.

You wince and pull your hand out of his grasp and he thinks he's overstayed his welcome but you sit down next to him. 

"Benji."

"Witch."

You scoff. Fingertips begin twisting the rings on your fingers. 

"You know I cannot be careless about this. I cannot go forth and pretend it didn't happen."

He wraps his hand around yours again. "I know."

"Now you must tell me what your intentions are."

Benji halts and looks at you confused. You roll your eyes. 

"That is how one courts a lady," you explain further. 

"Ahh." Now he cannot hide the grin. "I cannot court you, you know this."

"You can court me in secret."

He chuckles, a low rumble in his chest. "My intentions are pure-hearted little witch."

"I highly doubt it. You are a rake. And also you are nicknamed 'Bloody Ben' which is just ridiculous if you ask me. And even further you constantly look like you've just buried a body, to the point that even Marion feared you." You throw your free hand up in exasperation. "Marion!"

His hand is beginning to hurt now that the adrenaline has ebbed down a bit. "I'm not so bad, you know. I didn't rat you out. I didn't even complain when you drooled onto my pants the other night."

Every single time he sees you flush his heart grows so far he swears his ribs are digging into it. 

Suddenly, he can't remember why he was so terrified earlier. 

"I promise I will try to not be careless. And I will attempt to look less...bloody?"

You shake your head. "I don't want you to change. You're alright as you are. I am more so concerned with your ability to handle secrecy."

"I am an excellent keeper of secrets."

"You don't wear a mask." 

He frowns at you. "What? Are we at a masquerade ball?"

"No, I mean you wear your emotions on your face. It's your greatest flaw. I don't know how this can be, I don't imagine you do this when you fight people."

Benji had never thought about this. But then again, there are many things he hadn't thought about before he met you. There's a lot of things he never thought about before today. 

There's a weird thing between the two of you now. It looms over you as you squeeze his hand and when you drop your head against his shoulder. He isn't courting you.

You are to be married. 

He's kissed you, feverishly, with all-consuming passion and he can't go back and he doesn't want to but he can't go ahead either. 

He's stuck. Once again. Though it is starting to feel less like he's stuck as your knight. 

Quite an easy duty, with a princess like this. 

There's a bang on the door and the two of you jolt apart in an instant. He misses your hair tickling his jaw instantly. 

"Your highness," Lord Cathcart sneers through the door. 

"Wanker," Benji mumbles beneath his breath. 

"What?" You yell out.

"Come out. I wish to speak with you."

You get up but Benji is faster once more, cracking open the door the tiniest bit. "The princess has retired for the night. You may speak with her on the morrow, my good Lord."

The slimy man pries his hands into the small opening. Fortunately he has no real strength compared to Benjicot, who stops the thing from moving as far as an inch. "You forget yourself, bloody Ben. This is my castle."

At this, Benji opens the door far enough to push himself through and Erik away. The fool stumbles. 

He can't say it's not amusing to him. 

"And these are the chambers of a woman. You have no right to them. Only the king does."

He pauses and does a dramatic look around the hallway. 

"And as far as I am able to tell he is not here."

Eric sputters and reddens. Not like you do, but in an angry entirely off-putting manner, that almost makes Benji want to giggle. 

"You rest assured Blackwood boy, your days as a knight are counted."

Benji shrugs. "The Brackens will surely be happy to have me as their neighbour once more."

Lord Cathcart scoffs. "You'll be lucky to get out alive." 

And as if he hadn't heard a word just spoken he heads to the door, where you are standing. 

You look a bit dishevelled and Benji is a bit proud but he can't think on it too long, as Erik towers over you with the last shred of authority he can conjure up. "You will be my wife. I offered to go about this smoothly, but you went ahead and disrespected me. You will be my wife and then you will have no choice but to obey. I shall see to that."

Benji doesn't need to say anything this time. Ser Corrigan steps between your figures and clears his throat. "The princess is not to be spoken to in such a manner. I think it best we all rest tonight and tomorrow there will be a new day to set things right."

Erik Cathcart is not one bit pleased but he realises he has not much choice and so he yields and scurries off like the little weasel that he is. 

The sight of him makes Benji want to ram his head into a wall. 

The king is a fool for sending his daughter into the arms of this man, for removing her from the castle, for running the entire kingdom into the ground like nobody in his ancestry before him had ever managed.

One could only hope that a fallen woman like Lady Cathcart is worth this much trouble. 

Hell, Benji wouldn't ever care about the societal standing of a woman but he has never let last night's fuck influence today's mood in his life.

He looks to you and then back at Ser Corrigan, who has become very hawk-eyed all the sudden. 

"I think it's for the best if I retire to my bed as well," he says and you nod in acceptance, though he can't help but notice the smidge of disappointment in your eyes. 

His feet guide him to the yard and then the stables where a young man bows to him in panic. 

He remembers that this is Bracken affiliated ground. God knows what cruel tales have been told of his fights. They all likely think him to be a man with no honour. 

Benji wants to and saddle a horse, desperate to clear his mind, when his gaze flickers out the door and falls on the church. 

He hesitates for a moment, debating his choices, when he decides that it can’t hurt to pay the confessional a visit. 

It’s a small church, not very decorated. The one at the capital has huge stained windows and your dresses tend to look quite…pretty in that lighting. That is also about the only thing he could fathom to like about being inside that place.

He’s never been religious, nowhere near as much as he likely should be. 

The thought of a god looming over his head has never made him anything but uncomfortable. 

He finds it unsettling that he might be judged by an omniscient creature. He also finds that religious people are often liars. 

And yet, there he stands, in the hallway, staring at the altar. 

He’s not even sure how confessions even work anymore. 

The priest floats into the room at the other end of it, the same one as from the dinner. He’s such an odd looking person. 

“Ah. I thought you might appear here, son,” he says, his voice echoing. 

Benji scrunches his nose a little. “Did you now, father?” He takes a few tentative steps forward. “I’d like to confess something.”

The priest nods and points towards the confessional. For a third time, he contemplates his choices but he decides that he’s no coward and takes a seat on his side of the booth. 

“In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

There’s a beat of silence until Benji remembers what to do. “Amen,” he says after clearing his throat. “Bless me Father for I have sinned, it has been…I don’t remember, since my last confession.” 

Here goes. What’s there to lose? Maybe his mind, Benji thinks to himself. 

“I have corrupted somebody.”

The priest doesn’t speak. 

Benji clears his throat again. This feels violently tense. He’s not sure it should be. 

“I suppose my sin is cardinal. Sin of Lust.”

The priest’s gown makes a ruffling sound. “Ah. It is a common one.”

“This one has pretty high stakes involved, I assure you, father.” He is fairly certain that being sarcastic with a clergyman in a confessional booth is not something you’re supposed to do. But what’s it matter? He doubts a quick trip here could save his soul anyway. 

“Perhaps I should go.”

“No. Stay. Tell me what troubles you, son. Only God can help through all.”

Benji sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. “Well, I have kissed a girl. She is promised to another and I have put her virtue at risk.”

He glances over, through the barred hole in the wall and distantly makes out the side profile of the priest. “Did you force her hand?”

“No. I have killed men but I do have some dignity.”

“Well, then the girl is also guilty of a sin. But it is normal. God has made us flawed creatures. It is the way our lives go. You made the good choice, coming here. Pray the litany of Mary Magdalene three times, son.” 

He doesn’t enjoy the fact that the priest keeps calling him son. That should be reserved for one person only. He wipes his hands clean on his pants, clean of nothing in particular. He gets up to leave.

“Wait,” the priest commands. “I must warn you.”

Benji frowns. “Of what?”

The priest’s voice drops to a whisper. “There is treachery afoot in the house of Cathcart. Other houses too. I do not know the extent of it.” The priest’s gown rustles. “You must worry. You must watch yourself.” There’s a pause. “And you must write to the heir to the throne.”

Benjicot stares at him now. “What?”

“You think the Lord to be a fool and in many ways he is. But he is part of a grand scheme. I cannot tell you more.”

Benji hurries out of the booth around to the other side. “What the fuck are you blabbing about?”

“This is a house of God,” the priest reprimands at his cursing. “And I will not. I mustn’t endanger you. You need to be alive and well to serve the princess, do you not?”

“Is that a threat, old man?” 

The priest shakes his head. “I am helping you. Write to the prince. Tell him to tread carefully.” 

He points towards the entry. “This betrothal is a curse.”

He has to suppress the urge to point the dagger in his pocket against the man’s neck and get more out of him. But he remembers you and your words. He does not know how to handle the web of conspiracies that are spun around the nobility. He does not know how to solve them without laying hands and even then that would rarely diminish the problem. 

Benji steps back and considers the priest. “Well, then. Three litanies.”

With that he hurries out of the church. On the morrow he shall tell you. For now, he falls into his bed, mind continuously spinning around your kiss. When sleep comes for him, you leave with his thoughts and enter again through his dreams. 

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