#ANSWERED. ( amos burton. )

[kuwdora]

Top five blorbos from your shows!

oh man this is so hard. top 5. TOP 5. can i limit it to 5 blorbos. I have...so many shows... *spins wheel* Yennefer from The Witcher Netflix Hal Yorke from Being Human UK Nikola Tesla from Sanctuary Seven of Nine from Star Trek: Voyager Dutch from Killjoys

[spider-stark]

THE BRIDGE

Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!Reader

Summary - Your wardship with House Blackwood was meant to bridge the chasm between your families. Years later, you return to Stone Hedge as the whispers of war spread—only for Lord Tully to call for a hunt.

Warnings - fem!reader, complicated sibling relationship, fighting, (probably excessive) mentions of blood, talks about hunting/killing wild animals, !angst!, adult language, reader def suffering from identity crisis, probably deviates from canon some, kieran burton fan cast for benji, all characters 18+

Word Count - 5.6k

!MINORS DNI!

// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //

When Grover Tully, the Lord Paramount of the Trident, sent word for each of his bannermen to send forth a handful of their finest House members to a most desolate area of the Whispering Woods, no one thought it wise to object. 

“Lord Grover is an ornery old crow,” your father, Humfrey Bracken huffed as you readied the horses. “But you would do well to earn his respect.” He clamped a hand on your brother’s shoulder, pride gleaming in his eyes as he said, “Whatever he’s planning, I want you to show him that House Bracken stands strong. Understood?” 

Keeping his chin held high, Amos hesitantly muttered, “If you wish to impress Lord Tully, you might think twice about sending her.” 

Even with your back turned, you could feel the weight of your brother’s stare, his eyes boring a hole into the back of your head. 

Your father shrugged, a disinterested gesture. “Grover said to send our best,” he said, “and when it comes to a bow and arrow, no one's a better shot than her.” 

For the next day-and-a-half, you rode at a distance from the group your father selected—your brother, Amos, and two of your male cousins. And while they laughed and jeered and yapped, you remained stuck in your own thoughts, playing your father’s words on a loop. 

It’s the only compliment he’s ever paid you. The closest he’s ever come to acknowledging you as Bracken. 

You hate him sometimes, you think. For agreeing to peace all those years ago—for sending his only daughter to ward with his rival of all people. He must have known it was futile. Must have known that one girl could never bridge such an ancient chasm. 

He must have known—and yet he sent you anyway, only to call you back years later, tearing you away from the only home you had ever known and leaving you to feel like a stranger in your House. 

Grover said to send our best. 

Are you a Bracken, then? Is blood all that determines a House? 

No one’s a better shot than her. 

But your skill is that of a Blackwood, born under their tutelage. 

Deep within the Woods, a steady mist of rain falls from the sky, leaving your skin uncomfortably damp. In the distance, a low hum of chattering voices signal that the four of you are drawing close to Lord Grover’s camp—and that the other House’s have already arrived. 

Your thoughts shift, wondering who Lord Samwell sent to represent House Blackwood—fearing that you might already know the answer. 

A strange tightness floods your chest, coiling around your lungs. 

It’s been months since you last saw the heir to Raventree Hall. Many, many months—and you can’t help but think any reunion might end in bloodshed with Amos by your side. 

As if he heard his name ring through your mind, your brother slows his horse to gentle trot beside yours, cocking a neatly groomed brow at you. “Tell me, sister—were you always this dour?” He asks, feigning intrigue. “Or did half-a-decade with the Blackwoods simply drain the joy from you?” 

You don’t pry your eyes from the path ahead, refusing to look him in the eye as he continues without waiting for an answer. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised—a mere day with those insipid cravens would have me wishing to swallow my own blade.” Removing a hand from the reins, he pantomimed the act—gripping an invisible hilt and shoving it towards his lips, letting a dramatic choke rip from his throat. 

Riding a bit ahead, your cousins chortle at his jest, shooting amused glances over their shoulders. 

“No need,” you answer without thinking, your tone impassive. “Aly would have an arrow in your eye before the day was up.” 

Your cousins fall silent. 

Amos stiffens, jaw clenched tight. “She could try.” 

You know Black Aly would try if given half the chance—and you have no doubt that she would succeed, too. She was the one who taught you how to string a bow and sharpen arrows, how to aim and never miss. 

When you don’t respond, Amos pulls his horse in closer—as close as he can get without spookings yours. “Look,” he utters, low enough that your cousins can’t overhear, “I don’t know how things were done at Raventree—but you’re home now, and you would do well to remember where your true loyalties lie.” 

Again, you don’t speak. Don’t think, either. 

Amos sighs. “Your blood runs gold, sister. You’re a Bracken, through-and-through. Take pride in that—and don’t bring shame upon our name. Understood?” 

Strange. 

You had seen your own blood before—more times than you can count, actually. Scars mottle your skin like stars in the sky, a reminder of the years spent training and the memories of nights spent with friends who were supposed to be enemies. 

Never once had it looked gold to you.

Only red. 

“I understand–” a pause, a breath, a heartbeat– “brother.” 

Nausea twists your stomach. The familial title curdles on your tongue even as Amos grins at you. There’s nothing affectionate about the gesture—how could there be? He doesn’t know you. Not really. 

Blood or no, you’re little more than strangers to each other—and yet, even so, you can see he’s trying. Trying to know you. 

Ahead, the camp comes into view. Banners hang above tents: white for the Mootons, blue for the Pipers, purple for the Mallisters. 

And red—for House Blackwood. 

Amos gives you one last glance, a pall mimicry of what you believe is meant to be love in his eyes. “You’re home now,” he reminds you again, as if you need to hear it,“be glad for it.” 

With the Tully’s guards now in earshot, Amos doesn’t bother with waiting for a response. He snaps the reins, urging his gelding back to the head of your group, already bellowing his greetings. You watch him go, transfixed on the yellow-gold of his tunic—identical to yours. 

Approaching the guards, you tell yourself that your brother is what home is supposed to look like. That if you were to slice your veins, gold would pour from your wrists. 

Not red. 

After checking in with the guards and tying your mare up in the makeshift paddock, there was no time left to freshen up before you were expected to join Amos and your cousins. With all the Houses now gathered, Lord Grover wasted no time in calling you all to the heart of the camp. 

Still, you try to make yourself presentable—using your fingers to comb through tangled, windswept hair and smoothing the wrinkles from your gold tunic, careful not to disturb the ornate brooch pinned above your heart. 

According to the guards, everyone was given one upon arrival. “All Houses are required to wear them,” they explained when Amos pressed them on it, “Lord Tully’s orders.” 

They were all different, it seemed. Yours was a delicate thing, fashioned from silver and pearls in the image of a blooming dahlia, while Amos’s was clunky and shaped like the sun. He’s still fumbling with it when you finally push through the small crowd, taking your place at his side. 

To your left, separated only by a group of five Frey men, you feel the wary glances being cast your way. You almost turn your head—almost glance back at them, if only to see what they might do. What he would do. 

Would he even acknowledge you? Or simply look away? 

The answer, thankfully, is one you don’t have time to learn. A servant garners attention, dragging a simple, plush chair to the group’s center. Following suit, another two servants assist the aged Lord Paramount from his tent, guiding him into his seat. On his right stands his eldest grandson—and your favorite Tully. Tall and dark-haired, Elmo looks more fearsome than he actually is, sparing you a quick, discreet wink when he spots you. 

“You may all be wondering,” Lord Grover wheezes, his lungs fighting for breath, “why I have called upon you all today—the many great Houses of our land.” 

As he speaks, old, gnarled hands punctuate his words, gesturing out to the many men gathered ‘round. His fingers shake with effort, his shoulders bowed beneath the weight of his many, many years. But his chin remains high, and his tone commanding—if a touch quavery. 

“I hear rumblings,” he continues, “from the South-East.” 

Lord Grover’s eyes, milky with cataracts, shift in the direction, staring blindly into the towering trees of the Whispering Woods. Beyond them, even. 

“Whispers of a great danger brewing in the Crownlands—within the King’s own court, if rumors are to be trusted.” 

Your spine turns to steel. 

Those rumors, you know, are as true as they come. Over the past several months, they had moved through the realm like a venomous serpent. Slithering from mouth to ear, hissing tales of the two factions that now divide King Viserys’s council. 

The Blacks and the Greens. 

The rightful heir and the first-born son. 

And the very reason your father had called you home. 

“War is coming,” a deep, foreboding warning, “and should it reach the Riverlands, I wish to know that we might stand united in its wrath. That we will not allow petty rivalries–” a pointed glance at your brother, and then to your left where, without looking, you know the Blackwood heir stands–“to tear us apart from within.” 

A heartbeat passes. Then another. 

The forest holds its breath. Cradles the Lord Paramount’s words in the air, weaving them around the many great Houses of the Riverlands. 

You wonder if this is what strength looks like. What it sounds like. 

You fear you already know which side of the war Lord Grover’s strength might fall—and you pray that you’re wrong. 

Placing a firm hand upon his grandfather’s shoulder, Elmo takes a step forward. “In an effort to promote civility between our Houses,” he announces in a tone that demands respect, “we have arranged for a hunt.” 

Your brow furrows. A hunt? 

“You will be divided into two person teams, working with an individual outside of your own House.” His gaze shifts to you, dark eyes gleaming with mischief. “Teams have already been decided. Upon your arrival, each of you was given a pin—your partner will bear a matching one. And while there will be no winners or losers, you should know that once you leave camp, you will not be permitted to return without a trophy of some kind.” 

Discontent spreads. Low murmurs fill the air. 

Amos voices his frustration louder than the rest.  “And when is this hunt to take place?” 

Elmo grins. “Now.” 

Instantly, murmurs grow to shouts. 

“You cannot be serious, my Lord!” 

“It is already sunset!” 

“Is this a jest?” 

Elmo’s grin never wavers, unphased by the protests—and Lord Grover appears content to let his grandson contend with everyone's bickering, exhausted from what little talking he had already done. 

“Might I suggest you move quickly,” Elmo speaks over the crowd. Glancing upwards, he squints at the black clouds rolling overhead, an amused lilt to his voice as he adds, “Lest you wish to be caught in the coming storm.” 

With no more than a curt nod to the crowd, Elmo turns on his heel, already veering off in the direction of his own tent as servants begin to help Lord Grover rise. 

“This is absurd,” your brother grumbles. 

You ignore him. Storming right past him, you make a beeline for the fleeing Lord. 

“A hunt?!” 

Fond as Elmo is of you, you know better than to shout at the future Lord Paramount of the Trident. Your voice remains no more than a harsh whisper, even as you shoot daggers into the back of his head. 

“At night, no less! In the middle of a gods-damned storm! Have you lost your mind?” 

“What? You think it’s a bad idea?” He chuckles, keeping a steady pace. “Of all people, I thought that you might appreciate the challenge of it all.” 

You stay on his heels. “Who is he?” 

“Who is who?” 

Further from the crowd now, you grow bold. You reach out and snag his arm, forcing him to stop and face you. “Ignorance isn’t a good look on you, Elm.” You grind out, “Swear that you didn’t pick him to be my partner.” 

A wrinkle forms between thick brows, feigning innocence. “What makes you think that I chose your partner?” 

“Because I know you. You’re always scheming—jutting your big nose into places it very well does not belong!” 

Elmo opens his mouth—hesitates—and then frowns. “Am I truly that transparent?” 

“You may as well be made of glass, Elm.” 

His pout deepens, still dancing around your question. “Well, let's say that I did choose your partner—theoretically, of course!” Your eyes roll. “I think you would find my choice to be quite suitable. If anything, you might even thank me-” 

“This isn’t a game, Elmo!” Desperate now, you can’t stop your voice from rising. “If you paired me with him, then Amos will–” 

“Kill him?” Elmo ventures. 

“Yes!’ 

Pursing his lips, Elmo’s gaze falls somewhere over your head. “Well,” he sucks in a breath, “it seems we may be past the point of stopping that from happening.” 

Your mind goes blank, your thoughts scattering like shards of glass. 

You spin on your heel, head whirling around in search of Amos in the throng. Less than a second and you spot him—not because your gaze was drawn to the familiar gold color of your own House, but because of the wall of stark scarlet standing before him. 

Blackwoods. Two of them on either side of the Raventree heir. 

And Benji—his hands pressed to your brother's chest, roughly shoving him back into one of your cousins. 

“Do me a favor,” Elmo's sigh cuts through your panicked haze. “Keep the two of them from plunging a sword in the others’ belly, would you?” 

Any other time and you might have told Elmo off, cursed him for putting you in this position—future Lord Paramount be damned. 

But not now. Not when centuries of rivalry serve as proof that nothing is more dangerous, more unpredictable than this—

A Blackwood and a Bracken—your brother and Benji—standing toe-to-toe. 

Mindless adrenaline is all that thrusts you into motion. Mud splatters up the legs of your trousers as you practically run in their direction, demanding as soon as you’re in ear shot, “What is this?!” 

Amos doesn’t acknowledge you. Neither does Benji. 

Chests-puffed, they remain locked in their foolish staring match, neither of them willing to be the first to back down. 

Finally, one of your cousins sneers, “Seems that Benji-boy here thinks we’re gonna let him take you out into the woods.” 

A sharp, nasty laugh rips from Amos’s throat. “As if I’d let that happen!” 

“We’re partnered for the hunt, you imbecile.” Benji’s tone is that of lethal calm, even as he glares down his nose at your brother. You look to his chest—spotting the silver dahlia pinned at his breast. “If you have a problem with it, take it up with Tully.” 

“You think I’m stupid, Blackwood?!” 

Benji’s brow lifts a fraction of an inch, as if silently proclaiming—I just said so, did I not? 

Scowling, Amos juts his finger against Benji’s chest. “I refuse to give a Blackwood an opportunity to defile my sister!” 

Benji’s answering grin is something wicked as he purrs, “Oh, if I wanted to defile your sister, Bracken, I could’ve done so a long time ago.” 

Your pulse pounds—caught somewhere between offense and desire as Benji’s words echo in your head. 

Both feelings fade to fear when Amos reaches for the hilt of his sword, wrenching it from the sheath at his hip. In a blink, more weapons are drawn—your cousins holding swords, the Blackwoods holding daggers. 

Not Benji, though. 

Benji doesn’t flinch, even with your brother's sword poised at his throat, ready to kill. Something flickers in his eyes—a shift that you know all too well, sending ice skittering across your bones. 

“I won’t have this,” Amos seethes. “You will find another partner—or I swear on my House that blood will be shed!” 

Benji leans closer. Let the tip of the blade dig into his flesh, a rivulet of blood rolling down his throat. 

Red. 

“Is that a threat, Bracken?” 

You can hear your brother swallow—feel his panic as if it were your own, as if it was his fear coursing through your veins. Still, his voice remains steady. “Consider it a promise, Blackwood.” 

A blink and steel was glinting before your eyes. A single breath and Amos was out-maneuvered and out-matched—the clash erupting and subsiding in one seamless heartbeat, ending with your brother's sword in Benji’s hand. 

A shuddering breath slips from your brother's lips as Benji presses the steel to his throat, a perfect mirror of the position they were in just moments ago. 

“What’s the matter, Bracken?” Benji croons sarcastically, head hilting. “Do I frighten you?” 

There’s a lull to his voice—an eerie stillness that sends a chill scuttering down your spine. 

Amos was ignorant—to pick a fight with Benji, to think he might actually win it. But he’s your brother, too—and you know that if he were to be slain right now—right here—an even larger chasm will take the place of the one you were once meant to bridge. 

“Stop.” 

The demand is no more than a breath. A soft, terrified sound. 

Yet still, it makes Benji’s focus waver. 

“Leave him.” You force yourself to speak louder. Stronger. “Now.” 

You take a step closer—a hand outstretched, reaching towards Benji. His attention shifts, settling on you. He blinks—his stormy eyes, dark with rage, finally starting to clear. 

Benji’s movements languid as he steps away from your brother. Your cousins rush to Amos’s side as he stumbles back, frantically checking the heir of Stone Hedge for any sign of injury. 

They found none. Not even a scratch upon his throat, where his own sword had just hovered. 

Benji passes you the sword—a silent conversation passing between the two of you. 

You could have killed him, you glare. 

I could have—Benji agrees with a small, self-satisfied smile—but I didn’t. 

One of your cousins, bold and stupid, steps forward. “Is that all it takes to keep you at heel, Blackwood?” He glances between the two of you, his lip curling into a sneer. “A dog and his bitch,” he taunts, “how sweet–” 

A cry rips from his throat, cutting his insult short. You expect it to be Benji, having noticed the way his fists had clenched from the moment your cousin so much as looked at you. And perhaps it would’ve been—if your brother hadn’t grabbed the fool by the scruff of his neck, yanking him backwards and shoving him to the muddy ground. 

“Say what you want of him,” Amos tells your cousin, his voice gruff, “but you will mind how you speak of her.” 

You don’t know what to make of that. Of Amos defending you. Of knowing that if he hadn’t, Benji would have. Or that, even after that, Amos doesn’t quite know how to look you in the eyes, looking to the grass and the sky and anything that isn’t you. 

You’re a Bracken, through-and-through. Take pride in that. 

But did he take pride in you? 

If you wish to impress Lord Tully, you might think twice about sending her. 

“What’s done is done.” With a pointed look towards Lord Grover’s tent off in the distance, you say, “Now is not the time nor the place. If you wish so badly to fight, save it for when the war begins.” 

On one side of you, Benji remains silent, watching you with a curious glint in his eye. On the other, Amos hesitates. 

“I don’t trust him,” he says. 

You wonder if he doesn’t know how to say: I’m worried about you. 

“You heard our father,” you tell him, chin high, “when it comes to a bow and arrow, no one’s a better shot.” 

Perhaps there are things you don’t know how to say, too. Like: But I do. I trust him with my life. Maybe even with yours, too. 

Begrudgingly, Benji meets your brother's gaze, fighting the urge to scowl at him. “For years, no harm befell your sister under my watch—and you have my word that none shall befall her now,” he vows. “I swear it upon the Old Gods.” 

“And the New?” 

You consider stomping on Amos’s foot. 

Ignorant. To continue pushing— 

“Fine.” Benji’s brusque answer takes you by surprise. “Upon your false Gods as well, then.” 

Amos, to his credit, argues no further, only echoing the Raventree heir. “Fine.” 

For a fleeting moment longer, they stand there, eyes locked. Amos is the first to turn—the roaring tension dissipating into a hushed hiss as him and your cousins storm off. Benji stays, even as his own men begin to back off, as if listening to a silent command to go find their own partners. 

You look at him. And he smiles—a shy, awkward thing. 

“I’ll wait for you,” he says, a barely perceptible pause in his speech. “At the edge of camp—you can find me whenever you’ve gathered your things.” 

You open your mouth to speak, to say something—but the words take root in your chest, leaving vines to crawl up your throat. If you speak, you worry about what might come out. Worry it won’t be as delicate as the dahlia pinned above your heart—above his, too. 

So you close your mouth. Say nothing. Nod—and turn, trying to keep your legs from shaking as you walk back to the makeshift paddock to get what you would need for the hunt. 

True to his word, you find the heir of Raventree at the edge of camp, leaning against a towering oak and using the tip of his dagger to idly pick dirt from his nails. 

You brought only what was necessary—your bow, strapped between your shoulders, and a dark-leather quiver slung over your shoulder, stocked with already-sharpened arrows. 

Light rain mists over your face, the sky groaning with a low rumble of thunder. The forest floor squelches beneath your feet as you trudge towards him. Forever on-guard, Benji wastes no time in pushing himself off the tree, adjusting the dagger in his palm so that it can be easily plunged into another's belly if necessary. 

But then he sees you, dressed in Bracken gold with damp hair sticking to your cheeks, and looses a breath. Relaxing at the sight of you—his rival, according to centuries of precedent. Your rival, too, you suppose. 

Benji doesn’t look like your rival, though. 

Sheathing his dagger at his hip, you see no trace of the lethal Lord who, mere moments ago, was willing to go head-to-head with the heir to Stone Hedge. This boy—stuffing his hands in his pockets, a light flush crawling up his throat—is not Benjicot Blackwood, the heir of Raventree Hall. 

He’s just Benji. 

“Ready to go?” He asks when you’re closer, his voice a familiar caress so unlike the eerie lull it held earlier. 

It takes everything in you to erect an icy wall around your heart, colder even than Northern winds. You shove past him, your shoulder knocking into his as you go and earning a perplexed stare. “Let’s get this over with,” you snap, plunging into the depths of the Woods and leaving him to follow behind. 

Ten minutes pass. Twenty. 

Dusk crept swiftly through the Riverlands, casting a pall shadow over the Whispering Woods. Overhead, dark clouds seem to grow thicker, obscuring what little light the moon has to offer. 

A fool’s errand. An impossible task. 

That is what Elmo Tully had arranged—not a hunt. 

With the sun hidden beyond the horizon and a near-constant rumble of thunder, any animal in these Woods would either be asleep or hiding by now, trying to escape the incoming storm. To find a trophy to bring back to camp—even something as simple as a hare—was unlikely. 

Still, knowing the guards won’t let you back in without one, you keep walking. Keep plunging further into the Woods, praying to the Gods that you might find something to take back to camp. 

Twigs snap a few paces behind you, wet foliage squelching beneath purposefully heavy steps. A low, careless whistle tests your patience. 

With your bow hanging from your hand, you grumble, “You’re being too loud.” 

Benji feigns innocence. “Am I?” 

“Yes,” you hiss through gritted teeth, never slowing your pace. “Be quiet—unless you wish to scare off any game and spend the night sleeping on wet soil.” 

He chuckles—loudly. “Have you looked up lately?” Benji asks. “The sky looks as if it’ll crack open any minute now! Any animal with sense is hiding right now, anyway.” 

True. 

“Then we find one without sense, then.” 

Benji snorts. “The only thing without sense in this forest is Amos Bracken.” 

Without warning, you stop dead in your tracks—leaving Benji to nearly stumble into you. You cast a glare over your shoulder, cold enough that a chill seeps right into his bones. “You’d do well to keep quiet, Benjicot.” 

His lip curls, revealing a flash of slightly crooked teeth. “And since when do you call me Benjicot?” He asks, a ribbon of disbelief lacing his own name. 

Your jaw tenses, a muscle feathering there. 

I don’t know, you think, a pang of uncertainty cracking the ice wall around your heart. 

You reinforce ice with steel—turning fully now so that you’re face-to-face, dropping your bow to the ground by your feet. “I won’t let you speak of him that way,” you say, ignoring his question. “My brother is the heir to Stone Hedge–” 

A bemused laugh cuts through your words. “Oh, he’s your brother now, is he?” 

You speak over him, voice rising. “To insult him is to insult the whole of House Bracken–” 

“Fuck House Bracken,” Benji growls. 

He takes a half-step closer, towering over you with no more than a foot between you. You don’t falter—don’t look away. 

“I am a Bracken."

His head tilts. “Are you? Last I checked, you were practically raised on Blackwood soil.” 

“Perhaps,” you admit. “But my wardship is over–” 

Benji cuts you off. “Tell me, where was your brother all these years, then? Your father?” He doesn’t let you answer. “No more than a brisk-fucking-walk separating you and yet neither one of them cared to visit with the forgotten daughter of Stone Hedge!” 

You’re a Bracken—

“You don’t know them,” you protest weakly, your resolve crumbling. 

—through-and-through. 

“And you do?” He challenges. Another step, his chest inches from yours. Warmth radiates from his body, seeping into yours and melting melting melting. “Why did your father call you home?” 

His words are no more than a breath fanning across your cheek. 

Vulnerability permeates your gaze, bearing an unspoken truth. Because war is coming, you convey with no more than a flicker of your lashes, and fate has already decided my role in it. 

Benji’s lips tighten to a thin line—and you would’ve thought him ashamed of you, if not for the pain glimmering in his stormy-eyes, lined with silver. “Your father,” he utters, “he will declare for Aegon Targaryen—won’t he?” 

You’re a Bracken—

You debate the merits of telling him the truth. Of betraying the plans of your house. 

—Take pride in that. 

“Aegon Targaryen is the King’s true-born son.” You speak, though you know the words are not your own. “To sit the Iron Throne is his birthright.” 

The birthright of a drunken craven. 

The betrayal of a beloved princess. 

Benji blinks. Shakes his head, his tongue darting along his lips. “He called you home to fight. Humfrey Bracken’s forgotten daughter—useful at long last.” 

Rage coils in his tone. Instinct makes your muscles tense. 

Nothing is more dangerous than this, your thoughts whisper, a Blackwood and a Bracken, toe-to-toe. 

There’s nothing dangerous about the way Benji’s looking at you, though. His gaze soft and tender, calloused hands clenched at his sides—holding himself back, you realize. Not from fighting, but from reaching out to touch something he’s not certain is his. 

“Will you do it?” Benji asks, hesitant. “Will you fight for the pretender?” 

I don’t want to, you think. 

It’s your brother's words that slip past your lips. “I have no choice. My blood runs gold, Benji—a Bracken, through-and-through.” 

His brow furrows. Then a hand shifts to the sheath at his hip, sliding his dagger free. “Give me your hand,” he orders, nodding to where they hang at your sides. 

You remember his vow to your brother—that he would let no harm befall you. Even without it, you would’ve trusted him. Wholly. Unconditionally. 

You lift your hand and, without hesitation, he grips it on his own, pinning the steel tip of his dagger against your palm. 

You hiss—hand stinging as the blade drags along your flesh, leaving a thin, shallow cut. 

“You’ve always had one foot on either side of the boundary,” Benji starts, his words rushed. Carelessly tossing the dagger to the ground, he grabs your wrist tightly, lifting your palm up towards your own face. “But your blood,” he tells you, his eyes desperate, “has always run red.” 

It drips down your wrist—a rivulet of crimson, spilling between his knuckles as he refuses to let go. Red as the color of his tunic—as the specks of blood dried on his own throat, drawn by your brother's sword. 

Gold on your back. Red in your veins. 

A Bracken by name, but… 

“It’s not too late,” Benji says, his words slow and cautious, still cradling your hand in his. “You can come back to Raventree.” Thunder rumbles. Storm-cloud eyes fall to your lips. “You can come home.” 

You think of Amos. Of your brother. You’re home now, he had said, a shadow of love in his eyes, Be glad for it. 

But home was ancient stone, crawling with moss. Home was the deep, muddy moat that you always threatened to push Benji into when he was getting on your nerves. Home was Black Aly’s voice, scolding you whenever your arms were still too weak to string a bow. 

Home was a dead weirwood tree and a boy with stormy eyes. 

But duty… 

That was something else entirely. 

Closing your hand around Benji’s, your chest fills with water as the last of the ice melts. Hard steel turns impossibly soft, your feet shuffling until your body is flush against his—still-entwined hands pinned between your chest, trapped between fabrics of gold and red. 

Benji leans down, his forehead pressing against yours. There’s nothing dangerous about him. Nothing unpredictable. 

You know him—from the crook in his nose to the scar above his lip. From the lull of his voice to the weight of his steps. His quick temper and his shy smiles. 

High above, the sky cries out. Thunder booms, lightning cracks. Misty rain turns to a violent downpour. 

And he leans in, oh-so carefully. A trembling breath against slick skin, chapped lips hovering over yours. 

“You can come home,” Benji whispers, repeating himself. You can’t think—can’t breathe, as he utters against your mouth, “Let me take you home.” 

And he kisses you. A tender, desperate kiss—the kind that drives your lips apart with the sheer force of it. He tugs his hand from yours, slips it out from between your bodies and brings it to rest on the back of your neck, tangling his fingers in damp, rain-soaked hair. 

Restraint is no more than a breath in the wind. Desire curls in your stomach. Your pulse pounds in your veins, rich with red red red. 

But then there’s your brother’s voice in your head: I don’t trust him. 

And you know what he meant was: You’re my sister—my blood, red or gold—and I’m worried about you. 

You pull away, breathless and broken, one half of your heart lying on either side of the boundary stones resting miles and miles from here. 

Lips still close enough to brush against yours, Benji pants. “Say yes.” The love in his eyes isn’t a shadow. It’s a bright, blinding light. A proud declaration and a howling plea. “Say you’ll come home.” 

You look down—to the sigil embroidered on your tunic, to the still-drying blood on your palm 

An estranged brother and a forbidden lover. 

And you. 

The bridge to a great chasm. 

The futile remedy to centuries of enmity. 

You take a step back—reaching inside of yourself, pulling shriveled vines up your throat, knowing that the words hammering in your chest will be anything but delicate. That they’ll taste of rot in your mouth. 

“I’m not sure I have a home, Benjicot.” Pain echoes across his face, each syllable a rusted dagger in his heart. Another step back, grabbing your bow from where it laid in the mud, abandoned what feels like a millennia ago. “Not anymore.” 

When you turn to leave, thunder crashing overhead and a sob caught in your throat, you go alone.

The heir to Raventree Hall doesn’t dare to follow. 

You walk in silence, your bow hanging at your side. Behind you, there are no snapping twigs and no low, careless whistling. There’s only rain and—

A branch creaks overhead, halting your steps. Your bow is drawn in a single breath, the cut on your palm stinging as you  slide an arrow from the quiver slung over your shoulder, readying to shoot. You look up, drops of rain splattering against your cheeks as you scan the trees. 

There. 

Perched on a wet, mossy limb was a pair of beady eyes staring down at you. A raven, letting out a low, curious croak. 

A single shot and you could go back to camp. 

A single shot, you tell yourself, and your blood might finally run gold. 

A breath—and then the bow string goes slack. 

You slip the arrow back into the quiver.

a/n - does any of this even make sense? idk, you tell me lmao. overall, just wanted to play around with capturing the confusion that might ensue for a reader who has no clue where their loyalties lie anymore, lost in who they are and who they think they're meant to be--anyways, hopefully the ending makes sense to you because it makes sense in my brain

anyways

benji tag list (so sorry if I missed you!) - @jacaerysgf @lenasvoid @valdezthg @xzydra11 @snixx2088 @lianna75 @kennafild @ghostinvenus @heystaystray @but-i-write-so-i-must-count @a-song-for-ages

[herefortheships]

Oi tudo bem?

você acha que BJ poderia ter alguma piscopatia ? Veja bem não falo de Lydia e toda aquela polêmica mas sim da maneira que ele mata sua ex é terrível não sei se a palavra pode ser usada aqui então troco por outra ele massacra Dolores e ninguém sabe se ela estáva viva ou não quando acontece aquilo com Dolores ele precisa ter uma grande frieza amo Bj mas não acho que ele seja doce ou anti herói para mim ele é um vilão tô cancelada ?

Hi lovely, since I don't know Portuguese, I used Google translate to answer this one, I hope it's okay! (I do understand Portuguese to some extent reading it, because my native language is Spanish, but to make sure I did understand the question I also translated it with Google translate. I hope I understood correctly!) I'll post the translated answer under the Read More cut, in case the translation is wonky 😅.

I don't think you are wrong in your reading of Betelgeuse as a villain at all, and no, don't worry, you aren't cancelled at all for seeing him that way. It's part of the appeal that he's a wildcard, and also a sleazy, twisted goofball; you never know what exactly he'll do next. He is originally presented as a villain in the first film, too, though a very complex one, as he falls in a gray area. And even though his character seems to have evolved to some extent (even though Tim Burton would probably not admit to it in interviews), into a gentler, less prone to act out kind of character, he still can be unpredictable and wild.

What he did to Delores, though, was something he did in the heat of the moment, but it does reflect he has (or had while he was alive) a deep darkness inside him. He had a rough life, and he thought he finally found happiness. And then he found himself betrayed and used, and the happiness he thought he found was a lie. He was dying, murdered by the first woman he trusted and believed himself in love with in a very long time (he did say his heart had already withered long ago, before he met her). He killed her in cold blood and took his revenge right there before finally collapsing with the poison. One could read his reaction as him being cold-blooded and unhinged, and while that's understandable, he was also deeply hurt and dying. I personally don't think he was ever in love with her; it was more of a lust thing, but of course he did trust her and ended up being taken for a fool, used, and killed. He didn't let her have her way with the ritual, and the entire affair ended bloody.

The way he killed her by hacking her into parts reflects he does have darkness inside him, though I don't think he's prone to explode that way under less extreme circumstances than literally being murdered by the person he had just married.

Whenever Betelgeuse has presumably killed again in both films, he's done it in a goofy, cartoonish sort of way; so while he is completely capable, I don't think he's icy cold as a killer. He could have also killed Rory on the spot, but instead he made him expose his true intentions to Lydia and everyone else present at the church (and made him watch and participate in the wedding afterwards. Better revenge if you ask me 😂 gotta love BJ). So while killing is as easy as a the snap of his fingers to him (he literally just stared at the influencers to trap them in their phones; they may not be dead and gone, but Betelgeuse is that powerful to empty out an entire church of people just by staring at them!) he doesn't appear to resort to killing unless he has to do it either as part of a bioexorcism or to save his butt etc.

Anyway, Beej can be so "adorkable" sometimes, it's easy to forget he's immensely powerful and dangerous.

He may not be really cold-blooded and prone to snap and kill, but that he can be villainous, scary powerful, and willing to kill, there's no question about it. The fun thing with Beej though, is that we can see him as an anti-hero or a villain if we want, and I think both interpretations can be correct. He did heroic actions in the second film that in my opinion placed him in the role of the hero in that film, but his readiness to kill and discard people (like the influencers, whose fates we aren't sure of at the end), and his willingness to sacrifice others for his sake (like he dressed up Bob in his outfit to confuse Delores), makes him more an anti-hero (with solid villainous tendencies) than a hero.

The fact that he's an unpredictable anti-hero (or complex villain, totally valid as well), and yet would never harm those he truly loves, like Lydia and now her family, is part of the great, lovable appeal of Betelgeuse currently. 💜 Let us not forget he could have very easily forced Lydia to marry him at that church despite the code violation, as the immensely powerful demon that he is, and yet, he let her banish him away. He could have also forced himself on her at some point, but always respected her (except that one insta-pregnancy lol but that was an illusion, so does it count? 😅). He could have threatened Astrid to make Lydia accept his terms, too, but Astrid was always safe with him.

Tl;dr: yes, it's totally valid to see him as a complex villain, just as it's valid to see him as an anti-hero. The important thing is, all of that frankly terrifying power that he has, is literally in the palm of Lydia Deetz hands, and we love him for it.

(Portuguese answer below!)

Google translated Portuguese answer (I hope it's correct!)

Não acho que você esteja errado ao ler Betelgeuse como um vilão, e não, não se preocupe, você não está de forma alguma cancelado por vê-lo dessa forma. Faz parte do apelo que ele seja um curinga e também um idiota desprezível e distorcido; você nunca sabe o que exatamente ele fará a seguir. Ele também é originalmente apresentado como um vilão no primeiro filme, embora seja muito complexo, pois cai em uma área cinzenta. E mesmo que seu personagem pareça ter evoluído até certo ponto (mesmo que Tim Burton provavelmente não admitisse isso em entrevistas), para um tipo de personagem mais gentil e menos propenso a atuar, ele ainda pode ser imprevisível e selvagem.

O que ele fez com Delores, porém, foi algo que fez no calor do momento, mas reflete que ele tem (ou teve enquanto estava vivo) uma escuridão profunda dentro dele. Ele teve uma vida difícil e pensou que finalmente encontrou a felicidade. E então ele se viu traído e usado, e a felicidade que pensou ter encontrado era uma mentira. Ele estava morrendo, assassinado pela primeira mulher em quem confiava e por quem acreditava estar apaixonado há muito tempo (ele disse que seu coração já havia murchado há muito tempo, antes de conhecê-la). Ele a matou a sangue frio e se vingou ali mesmo antes de finalmente desmaiar com o veneno. Pode-se interpretar sua reação como sendo de sangue frio e desequilibrado e, embora isso seja compreensível, ele também estava profundamente magoado e morrendo. Pessoalmente, não acho que ele algum dia tenha se apaixonado por ela; era mais uma questão de luxúria, mas é claro que ele confiou nela e acabou sendo tomado por idiota, usado e morto. Ele não a deixou seguir o ritual, e todo o caso terminou sangrento.

A maneira como ele a matou, cortando-a em pedaços, reflete que ele tem escuridão dentro dele, embora eu não ache que ele seja propenso a explodir dessa forma em circunstâncias menos extremas do que literalmente ser assassinado pela pessoa com quem acabara de se casar.

Sempre que Betelgeuse presumivelmente matou novamente em ambos os filmes, ele fez isso de uma forma boba e caricatural, então, embora ele seja completamente capaz, não acho que ele seja um assassino gelado. Ele também poderia ter matado Rory na hora, mas em vez disso o fez expor suas verdadeiras intenções para Lydia e todos os outros presentes na igreja (e o fez assistir e participar do casamento depois. Melhor vingança se você me perguntar 😂 tenho que amar BJ ). Então, embora matar seja tão fácil quanto estalar de dedos para ele (ele literalmente apenas olhou para os influenciadores para prendê-los em seus telefones; eles podem não estar mortos e desaparecidos, mas Betelgeuse é tão poderosa para esvaziar uma igreja inteira de pessoas apenas olhando para elas!) ele não parece recorrer à matança, a menos que tenha que fazê-lo como parte de um bioexorcismo ou para salvar sua bunda, etc.

De qualquer forma, Beej pode ser tão “adorável” às vezes que é fácil esquecer que ele é imensamente poderoso e perigoso.

Ele pode não ter sangue frio e ser propenso a atacar e matar, mas pode ser vilão, assustador, poderoso e disposto a matar, não há dúvida sobre isso. O divertido com Beej, porém, é que podemos vê-lo como um anti-herói ou um vilão, se quisermos, e acho que ambas as interpretações podem estar corretas. Ele fez ações heróicas no segundo filme que, na minha opinião, o colocaram no papel de herói daquele filme, mas sua disposição para matar e descartar pessoas (como os influenciadores, cujos destinos não temos certeza no final), e sua disposição de sacrificar outros por sua causa (como ele vestiu Bob com sua roupa para confundir Delores), o torna mais um anti-herói (com sólidas tendências de vilão) do que um herói.

O fato de ele ser um anti-herói imprevisível (ou vilão complexo, totalmente válido também), e ainda assim nunca prejudicar aqueles que ele realmente ama, como Lydia e agora sua família, faz parte do grande e adorável apelo de Betelgeuse atualmente. 💜 Não esqueçamos que ele poderia facilmente ter forçado Lydia a se casar com ele naquela igreja, apesar da violação do código, como o demônio imensamente poderoso que ele é, e ainda assim, ele deixou que ela o banisse. Ele também poderia ter forçado ela em algum momento, mas sempre a respeitou (exceto aquela gravidez instantânea haha, mas isso foi uma ilusão, então isso conta? 😅). Ele poderia ter ameaçado Astrid para fazer Lydia aceitar seus termos também, mas Astrid estava sempre segura com ele.

Tl;dr: sim, é totalmente válido vê-lo como um vilão complexo, assim como é válido vê-lo como um anti-herói. O importante é que todo esse poder francamente aterrorizante que ele possui está literalmente na palma das mãos de Lydia Deetz, e nós o amamos por isso.

[miladyamalthea]

Masterlist

Spacewidget on Ao3

🛸 that’s me!! 👆🏽👆🏽👆🏽

🛸this is an 18+ only space: it’s not all smut, but it’s enough. Please come back when you’re older and I’ll be your old auntie full of naughty inappropriate stories about the good old days.

🛸My day job involves a lot of boring writing, my fics are a pressure valve and a place to experiment with tropes and characters that didn’t get their due.

🛸I wish I could write drabbles and one shots but that appears not to be my lot in life

🛸My fics are mostly "slow burn to excessive smut and incessant plot in an angsty trench coat." But there's also a fair bit of oops-I reached-100k and fluff-silliness involved in just about anything I write.

🛸 I only post on Ao3. This feels silly to say, but if needs must: Please, don’t copy or repost my work or use it to train AI.

Current project:

Star Wars x MCU Crossover [Loki/Original Space Witch Character]

First Light

🐍First Light | | 18+ | 36.2k | Complete | What if? As Loki ascends to the throne as the God of Stories, he sends one last version of himself to a galaxy far, far away, and a long time ago for a chance at a new life.

🐍Off World |  18+ | 167k (WTF?!) | In Progress Complete | The smuttier continuation with canon typical plot. Which canon? Who knows.

Previous Adventures

The Walking Dead [Daryl Dixon x Connie]

Place for Us || Canon Compliant Backstory/Missing Scenes to first Kiss ||

Canon Divergent:

🏹Just the Way You Like it | 18+ | 7k | Complete | Well that escalated quickly: a collection of Daryl and Connie attempting to get some alone time...to make out.

🏹Pony Express Blues | 18+  | 6.8k | Complete |The sunset motorcycle ride we all deserve.

🏹Two for the Road | 18+ | 28.2K | Complete | A low stakes TWD-style adventure that leads to eventual smut.

🏹The People We Call Home | All | 9.5k | Complete | Perspectives on the developing Connie x Daryl relationship through the eyes of the people who care about them the most.

Tell Me A Story | | 70.5 K | Complete | A choose your Connie x Daryl reunion adventure.

🏹Don't Go On Me Now |  mature |  Complete | 6.5k Scenes of Daryl and Kelly bonding over the search for Connie.

🏹If You Must Live, Darling One | mature | 2.5k | Complete |

🏹It Leads Back to You | 18+ | 32.2K | Complete |

One Shots (Canon divergent)

Marks the Spot | 18+ | Daryl Dixon/ Connie | 3.6k | Complete | An assortment of smutty Donnie one shots with a dash of humor, heavy on the feels.

All The Devils Are Here | 18+ | 26.2K | Complete | After a hard winter, Daryl and Connie set out on a supply run to relieve Alexandria and encounter a dangerous group of survivors in a shopping mall. My attempt at a canon-typical episode for these two.

Better Luck Next Time | 18+ | 13.9k | Complete | Five times Daryl tried to put a ring on it, and the one time he didn’t have to.

The Expanse [Amos Burton/Naomi Nagata]

Canon Compliant When All of This Around Us Falls | 18+ | 17k |  Complete | What are Amos and Naomi to each other? Short answer: It's complicated.

Make You Do Better | 18+ | 12k | Complete | Naomi had never known someone who could compartmentalize better than she did. It was like those four days had never happened. He made it seem easy.

[andguesswhat]

Tagged by @whole-other-layer

Last song: Stromae - L'enfer

Favorite color: Petrol or Yves Klein blue

Currently watching: This is going to hurt (so good, with Ben Wishaw and the portrayal of queer I'm looking for)

Sweet/spicy/savoury: yeah, just that: sweet/spicy/savoury, like the fireworks in Remy's head when he eats cheese WITH strawberry.

Relationship status: none of your fucking business

Current obsession: the guys in my head who do things and the question why you do things you know aren't good for you and you do them anyway.

Last thing you googled: soft launch boyfriend (lol).

Tagging... oh, I don't know, how about @stmonkeys @lo20 @laurenjane1990 and @timmysneck ?

Thanks for tagging me @whole-other-layer

But I have to ask! Your addition "even though they appear to be a hardcore charmie"? What does that mean? That you don't like hardcore charmies? In any case, I have to admit I’m not overly fond of being called hardcore (maybe cor cordium fits better 😉). Hardcore sounds to me like someone who needs to be right, and I don’t need that. I don't NEED them to be together, I don't care who they go to bed with, I don't need (more) proof. I don't HOPE they are together, I just hope that they HAVE each other when times are difficult for them. I don't KNOW if I'm right, but after everything I've read and seen about gays in Hollywood (Leo!) or in the music industry (Harry!) or in soccer (Ronaldo!), after all the tons of quotes we've gotten from people in Hollywood saying that "Hollywood treats gays poorly" (Udo Kier) to "You're a slave to Warner Bros, they can do whatever they want" (Burton), after all the PR machinery that all my mutual friends so skilfully expose on a daily basis, in the end, unfortunately, Timmy looks to me like a reflection of just that. Because they do exit in Hollywood, queer actors.  

And boy, these days I wish he was straight as fuck so I wouldn't have to worry about him, but with all the clowning going on around him, I just don't see it.

So him spending his life with Armie is just the most likely and plausible thing TO ME from everything I've seen. Everything else is always LESS plausible to me. 🤷🏼‍♀️

And if it IS true, then they would have an incomparably beautiful love story that is incomparably tragic just because they're queer, and I want to support them with all my queer heart and desire for equal rights.

They don't have to be together for the rest of their lives and now, after all these years of heart eyes, they might just be another boring couple like any other. But if they had the chance to show themselves without regrets, if they didn't have to do this shit anymore, I can't wait for them to smile and feel free and have their second spring, and after everything they've been through, I think they fucking well deserve it.

That doesn't mean I agree with what Timmy is doing at the moment, and I thank you for your input because I have something to say to him about it as well to make my point. But to that later 😉

And if this isn't clear from what I wrote: I’m fully ok with people don’t believing in them.

Sorry for this answer you didn't ask for, but no one has ever told me I'm hardcore 🙃 PS: I love Tori Amos too ☺️

[riverdamien]

Catching the Big Fish#

Sloughing Towards Bethlehem Catching the Big Fish!

Third Sunday in Ordinary Time

January 21, 2024

Mark 1:14-20:

14. After John had been arrested, Jesus went into Galilee. There he proclaimed the gospel from God saying,

15. 'The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is close at hand. Repent, and believe the gospel.'

16. As he was walking along by the Lake of Galilee he saw Simon and Simon's brother Andrew casting a net in the lake -- for they were fishermen.

17. And Jesus said to them, 'Come after me and I will make you into fishers of people.'

18. And at once they left their nets and followed him.

19. Going on a little further, he saw James son of Zebedee and his brother John; they too were in their boat, mending the nets.

20. At once he called them and, leaving their father Zebedee in the boat with the men he employed, they went after him.

"River",

This week I spend time with your dissertation, which I’ve had for too long, I’m sorry.  I want to finish it and return it to your custody. 

I’ve been thinking about why there are few who do what you do.  Your dissertation supplies a large factor at play.  Fear.  I have thought for a long time that although money is said to be the root of all evil, fear must be right at its heels as a close second.  I’m OK with the fact that I will never live a ministry such as yours. But if I asked the question “Why not?” my answer would most certainly be fear.  Fear of the unknown. Fear of not having enough.  Fear of injury or death. 

Which is one of the reasons you are the most courageous person I have known.  Barbara Lovejoy thinks so, too. 

See you Tuesday,

David"

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

Davids letter is very complimentary, so why would I take the chances that I do?

I remember standing around a camp fire, singing the closing hymn, Amazing Grace when I was twelve, and felt my heart "strangely warmed", as John Wesley shared. I knew in those moments God in Christ was calling me to preach.

From that time forward there was a "raging fire" with in my heart to be a priest. And that fire has lead me from my father's profitable business to seminary, serving in Missouri and Iowa, and finally, thirty years ago to San Francisco.

It is odd to have a stranger show up during a closing camp fire and at twelve hear his life changing  promise of a bigger "gig": "Follow me and I will make you fishers of people."

One would think of Jesus coming across as the "teller of tales" like the father character in Tim Burton's movie, "Big Fish." Who would trade ownership in a profitable business to leave everything and follow Jesus?

I was laughed at, joked about and belittled during my teen years, my parents resisted for a time, and  the "raging fire" continued to burn through college, seminary, and the two doctorate that followed. I fell away for a while, but that call was like a "raging fire"and I returned coming to San Francisco and Temenos Catholic Worker was borne.

Ched Myers noted in  Binding the Strong Man that the phrase "fishers of people," goes back to Amos 4:2 and Ezekiel 29:4, where catching fish with hooks rather than nets is an euphemism for judgment upon those who engage in oppressive practices. In essence, Jesus is inviting the disciples to hold accountable the "big fish" in the oppressive system, the disciples signed up quickly, and I as well.

Christian discipleship is rooted in a commitment to justice, and not about pleasing the powers that be.

The radical change to which Christ calls us may cause profound discomfort for those whose welfare is closely tied to keep structures that oppress intact. Fortunately, the disciples who were powerless accepted the invitation of Jesus despite the risks.

The disciples accepted the invitation because they had so much to more to lose by not accepting the invitation to follow him.

When people try to figure me out, to understand my ministry, and logically try to make an explanation, they always fail, because their is "a raging fire" within my life that has called and continues to call me on this journey, and will call until I enter the kingdom and hear Jesus say, "Well done good and faithful servant!"

And rather than continue to try to explain, the "why's", and "my feelings" etc I am taking the words of Jack Kornfield to heart as a new mantra in my life which is to be:

"Open whatever you experience without fighting; Let it be present just as it is. Let go of the battle!

Deo Gratias! Thanks be to God!

==============================================================================

Fr. C. River Damien Sims, sfw, D.Min., D.S.T.

P.O. Box 642656

San Francisco, CA 94164

Snap Chat: "riodamien2"

pay pal can be found on www.temenos.org

415-305-2124

www.temenos.org

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

"Our life of grace and our life of the body goes on beautifully intermingled and harmonious. "All is grace," as the dying priest whispered to his friend in 'The Diary of a Country Priest." The Little Flower also said, "All is grace" (Dorothy Day).

Let Love Ache

Father, give me the courage to keep on loving.

when others keep on hurting.

help me to live an achy love, a gritty,

persistent and emptying love;

a love that’s not afraid to flow toward the other

who has little left to offer in return.

And may I tread faithfully with heaven

through the unfinished work that surrounds me.

[aeternals]

" you have this uncanny ability to make me smile, mr. burton, " desiderius plucked the offered piece of apple and popped it into his mouth. a light in the dark, always. he might've been struggling since luna to find his way back but with amos around he had no doubt that the return of himself was only a matter of time. when not if. " and no, that's not what got us here. " another kiss to amos's cheek and then one at the corner of his lips. " i would go again and again and again down the well with you. do you understand? the problem was the fucking rocks. " had inaros's timing not been so unfortunate then neither of them would've had to fight for survival. old ghosts wouldn't have seen the light of day and maybe there would've been a lot more sex.

such is life.

" maybe a pleasure cruise... "

the confusion on hannah's face cut right down into his heart. fake or not, those emotions were real. maybe he'd been too cautious. everything on that face screamed pain, loss, and betrayal. even if that was an incredible mod hiding someone else's face that expression was true.

only seconds to wait. in a heartbeat desiderius thought maybe the caution had been right. although he'd asked a trick question the hesitation made him wonder if there would be no answer or the wrong answer.

" oh, " he sounded astonished even to his own ears. " oh merde... " time stretches as desiderius simply stares at the ring hanging off the chain. images of his mother smiling, laughing, and crying all pass through his memory. she'd been uncharacteristically neutral when she'd given him the ring. " i hope one day you find the love i couldn't... " he that part of the conversation out loud.

now it was time for desiderius to let his own tears flow. " i thought you were dead, " he can't help but choke down the sob that snuck up. " i, uh, " a half turn is taken towards amos now that his thoughts are even more jumbled. " joined the army because my father thought i was too weak. that sharing my mother's love of the arts made me problematic. then i told him to choke on it. " desi tried to laugh but it really just came out as another sob so he covered his mouth to muffle the sound.

" hannah, this... " he clears his throat and motions over towards the mechanic. how did he even introduce amos? were they partners? was amos even his boyfriend? they'd never talked about it nor had he ever been inclined to. labels felt insufficient in their case. " this is amos. he makes me happy. "

all of a sudden he mentally slaps himself and takes a step forward. the next few are timid and hesitant until he's on the couch a full cushion away from her. " i'm sorry about the questions it's just....there's a lot going on right now. "

There’s something that twists in her stomach as Nathaniel turns away from her, a tangible hitch in her breath, and it takes her a longer moment than it should to recognize that it’s both pain and something akin to jealousy as he seeks comfort from the mechanic instead of her, and she forces herself to look away from the moments of intimacy that pass between them before she lets her emotions get the better of her … any more than they already have.

Shoulders curl in, a little, knuckles grinding in frustration against the wetness on her cheeks as she tries to contain her tears - she’d always been prone to crying when she was angry, as much as when she was sad. She’d never been able to mask her emotions like he had, like Claus had.

Amos’ head tilted into Desi’s lightly, a light lean into the touch and kiss offered, his smile small and guarded, but present, as he cut a smaller bite of the apple to Desi. The unexpected arrival had interrupted their dinner plans, and the data broker had been all too sporadic with that since their return from Earth, and Luna, as it was. “Isn’t that what got all this trouble started in the first place?” Amos questioned, with the familiar half smirk, and a cant of an eyebrow. He let his gaze linger on Desi’s for another moment before turning his attention back to the stranger, watching her reactions as Desi found some clarity of thought to probe what he could of her identity.

She didn’t seem to be processing the reason behind Desi’s questions all that quickly. He wouldn’t peg her for the type to be given to duplicity, but he was hardly the best study of human nature, and he would’ve expected no less than some need for confirmation, under the best of circumstances. And with everything going on in the galaxy right now? There were far from those.

Hannah struggled, to follow his questions, brows furrowing briefly, a half shake of her head, denial, rejection, confusion? “No, I – ” Fingers flickered to the chain at her neck, hidden beneath what she’d wore on the shuttle, though in hindsight that seemed the first place someone might’ve looked for valuables, had she been accosted. Career choices? Associations? Did he – “Your sister. Not – me, not that you gave me, you think I’m …” A pretender? A liar? What was he involved in now, what did he do, now, that he would assume��

She was almost grateful for the sting to her pride, to her already aching heart. It was almost easier, than the images of him being held captive, being … tortured, that still haunted her from his explanation of a moment before. She set the bottle of water aside, fingers struggling to undo the clasp of the necklaces, dragging the chain to wind between them as she held it out, letting the ring that she wore on it hang in front of her. “You gave it to me the morning you left, after you fought with him, after you told him you were leaving. You said you’d come back for it.” You never did.

[always-tilting-at-windmills]

How you doing? Vs. How you feeling?

📌The progression of Amos getting more like Holden / weird & 💬 chatty & Holden getting even *more* emotion into his questions❣️

[the-roci]

I think Amos's love interest for season 4 might be Wei? I hope they include her, be a shame to leave that out... rather see it fleshed out more than it was in the books, especially if they keep the same outcome (nice and tragic)

That’s be my guess. On one hand - it’s an interesting dynamic, especially considering how it ends. That said, the end...is just something I’m tired of seeing in media. And with that said, I also think that’s why the relationship is so damn interesting in the first place, so I’m torn. Then there’s a part of me wonders if they’re going to go there or pull another relationship forward? Another part of me wishes they would just make Praxos a damn thing already. 

[prophecyread]

      @magicandsciencemuses - lena sent in A MEME. // always accepting.

              “It doesn’t hurt or anything,” Amos offered, before she could ask, as she freed the last of the bandages from the wound -- ninety five percent healed, really, at this point all it was was another puckered, pink and shiny scar, smaller on the front side of his shoulder than the back.  One of many, more than he bothered to keep track of these days.   “But Cap wouldn’t get off my case until I came in and got a write off.”  Trouble with not having a doc on the crew now meant that they were stuck patching themselves up and hoping for the best until they could get to a station with somebody licensed, or close enough.  “Had worse, don’t know what he’s being pissed off about, he’s not even that one that got shot.”

[outofmemory]

Thank you for answering my ask! 💜

FIRST OF ALL!!! Uncas/ Alice from Last of the Mohicans movie YES!!!! 100% YES!!!!! 💜💜💜

Ok, back to business 😆

I do not know any of the foreing TV shows you mentioned 😅 All the shows I consume are actually foreing, because my country is quite small and I do not really like any shows they produce 😒

But if we talk about Western/USA made shows, here are some of my ships (I will use your list as a guide 😉, canon and not canon pairings by the way, most of them are not canon to be honest 🤣): Marvel: Bucky/Darcy (I do not even know if they actually meet in canon 🤣 Top 10 ships) Steve/Natasha Meredith Quill/Yondu Udonta Madisynn King/Wong (She-Hulk TV)

The Expanse (TV): Amos Burton/Praxidike Meng

Punisher (Netflix): Frank Castle/Karen Page

The Martian (movie): Mindy Park/Mark Watney

Alien (Covenant): Daniels/Walter (do I need to move this ship down to problematic? 🤔)

Pride and Prejudice: Mary Bennet/Original Male Character (I just love to read about Mary and how she goes through life and maybe finds love)

Hobbit (Movies): Fíli/Sigrid (.... problematic age gap category? 🤔 Top 10 ships) Kìli/Tauriel (.... same problem as above? 🤔)

Gosford Park (movie): Mary MacEaachran/Robert Parks

Fargo (TV): Nikki Swango/Mr. Wrench

The Bear (TV): Sydney/Carmen (Like one of my top 10 ships!)

T U A (TV): Five/Lila (that's how we know each other 😉, Top 10 ships!)

Game of Thrones (TV and books): Brienne/Jaime Shireen Baratheon/Rickon Stark (they did not die! both are alive and well and when they are adults they will marry and live a happy life until both of them die together in their sleep of old age! YES I still have feelings about them, very strong ones! FUCK the TV show!!!! 🤬🤬🤬🤬)

The Gentlemen (movie): Coach/Raymond Smith

Bridgerton (I only watched season 1!): Anthony/Penelope

Star Wars: Rey/Kylo Ren (Rise of Skywalker does not exist, Rey is still a nobody, fuck the whole story line that only special people/born of a special line of yedi/sith can be powerful! Fuck that storyline!! 🤬🤬🤬🤬)

Pitch (TV): Ginny/Mike

Karppi (Deadwind -TV): Sofia Karppi/Sakari Nurmi (Top 10 ships)

Elona (Netflix Movies): Edith Grayston/Sherlock Holmes

Top Gun (movie): Robert "Bob" Floyd/Natasha "Phoenix" Trace (Bob is such a supportive co-pilot 💜💜💜)

The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel: Midge/Lenny

Star Trek Voyager: Icheb/Naomi Wildman Icheb/Q Junior (... problematic age gap?🤔)

Good Omen: Beelzebub/Gabriel Eric (Disposable Demon)/Muriel

Debris (TV): Bryan Beneventi/Finola Jones (Top 10 ships)

Willow (TV): Elora Danan/Graydon Hastur (Top 10 ships)

So to the more problematic pairings, because their canon power dynamics are kinda fucked up:

American Gods (TV): Laura Moon/Mad Sweeny (Top 10 ships)

Sicario: Alejandro Gillick/Kate Macer

Mad Max Fury Road: Slit/Toast the Knowing (do not know why I ship them, I just do. Found some great ffs and now they are my ship in the fandom 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️)

Good Girls (TV): Beth/Rio Eddie/Annie

Harry Potter: Hermione/Draco

Wednesday (TV): Wednesday Addams/Tyler Galpin

Knives out: Marta Cabrera/Ransom Drysdale

Succession (TV): Lukas Matsson/Shiobhan "Shiv" Roy (I found one extremly good ff and that sparked this pairing for me! And let's acknowledge that both of them are terrible, terrible people, just ... so terrible 😤)

The problematic ones with age gap (so people can shit on my taste 😅):

New Year's Eve (movie): Ingrid [o]/Paul [y] (I just like their dynamics, what can I say 😅)

Firefly (TV): Jayne Cobb [o]/River Tam [y] (It is always a plus if the younger female character could kill her partner without even getting sweaty, and I do mean literally kill him 😊) River is such a great character, I love her a lot 💜

The Walking Dead: Daryl [o]/Beth [y] (again, I just like their dynamics, what can I say 😅 They made each other better people, I like that a lot in a pairing. )

Split/Glass (movie): You thought your pairing was problematic 😅 Mine is, besides Casey[y]/Kevin[o], Casey[y]/Dennis [o] 😆

Mare of Easttown (TV): Mare [o]/Colin [y]

Euphoria: ADULT!!!!! (so we do not misunderstand each other!)-Ashtray [y]/ADULT!!!!!Cassie Howard [o] (nobody dies, everybody get's be a an adult and have an adult relationship that is not abusive, looking at you Nate! That MF! 🤬🤬🤬)

Game of Thrones (TV): ADULT!!!/QUEEN OF THE NORTH!!!-Sansa Stark/Sandor Clegane (HELLO, HELLO!!! 🚨🚨🚨🚨ADULT SANSA!!!! Let it be known!!! ADULT-SANSA!!!! Top 10 ships!)

Extra category of "problematic"??? Fallout (TV): Cooper Howard[o+ghoul]/Lucy MacLean [y] (because age gap and ghoul?!?! 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️, Top 10 ships!🤣)

So this list ends here 😆 Definitly not complete BUT very, very long 🤣 I do not know if you find any other pairing you would like on my list. But maybe one or two 😉

💜💜💜

Hi, so you do not have to publish your respond or answer at all 😉 But beside Five x Lila and Brienne x Jaime what other pairings do you ship? Much love 💜

Hi! 👋🏻

I don’t mind answering- the main thing I use tumblr for is appreciating and talking about ships that I love so it’s not an issue to answer this by any means :)

I haven’t watched a ton of new shows lately, mostly rewatching older favorites or watching new-to-me-but-not-new-this-year foreign tv shows. But I will put a few below (I liked the main couple in the foreign shows) and some of my older ships after that! 😊

Foreign TV shows (I don’t often find a lot of fanfic/ fan art for foreign TV shows comparatively but I loved these series):

-Love Between Fairy and Devil (cdrama)

-The Manny (Mexican TV show)

-Hidden Love (cdrama)

-Strong Woman Do Bong Soon (kdrama)

-Ever Night (cdrama)

-Love, Now (Taiwan drama)

-Tale of the Nine-Tailed (kdrama)

-Happiness (kdrama)

-Mischievous Kiss (jdrama)

-Boys Over Flowers (kdrama, but I like Ji Hoo/ Jan Di instead of the main couple of Joon Pyo/ Jan Di)

And several others, but those are the ones I remember at the moment.

Main ships from American and/ or western shows and movies (though I probably like others from the same franchise too):

-Marvel: Steve/ Peggy and Clint/ Natasha are my main ships. I really enjoy Bucky/ Sam too, but I haven’t ventured to them quite as much.

-Barney/ Robin from How I Met Your Mother

-Penelope and Colin from Bridgerton. Really liked Kate/ Anthony too.

-Carol/Daryl from The Walking Dead followed by Rick/ Michonne (admittedly I slowly lost interest in the series after Glenn died, & I think I mainly stopped watching after Carl died. But I love the ship still)

-Tony/ Ziva from NCIS

-Deeks/ Kensi from NCIS LA

-Rollins/ Carisi from SVU followed by Benson/ Barbara. (All 3 of which, NCIS/ NCIS LA/ SVU, I didn’t finish or don’t really keep up with regularly)

-Harry/ Hermione from Harry Potter

-Penny/ Sheldon from The Big Bang Theory (I probably stopped watching regularly after season 5 though)

-Chloe/ Oliver from Smallville

-Enola/ Tewksbury from Enola Holmes TV show

-Uncas/ Alice from Last of the Mohicans movie

-Casey/ Kevin from Split & Glass (they’re one of my more problematic ships, TBH)

Cartoons/ Anime/ Comics:

-Starfire/ Robin from 2003 Teen Titans cartoon & the 1980s comics & live action tv show, also known as Dick/ Kory followed by Beast Boy/ Raven (or Garfield/ Rachel)

-Bruce/ Selina (pretty much any Batman universe I’ve seen)

-Naruto/ Hinata from Naruto. Shikamaru and Temari are a secondary fav for me.

-Ichigo/Orihime from Bleach. I also like Renji/ Rukia.

-Toph/ Zuko from Avatar the Last Airbender, but I prefer them as a post-original series couple. She’s too young for me to want them together during the show. Katara/ Aang.

Pretty much any of the studio Ghibli main characters, though there are still a few films I need to see…

Honorable mention to Lily/ Sebastian in the Love, Lies, & Hocus Pocus book series I’m currently reading…

There’s probably a ton of other ones (certainly there are more shows/ movies I love that I don’t necessarily have a ship for or that I just didn’t have a ship I went to fanfic for) but these were the ships I most remember from growing up and/or from reading fanfic/ fan art in the last 10 years or so…

What about you? What are some of your ships? I don’t suppose we have any other overlapping ships or shows, do we?

And much love right back at you! 🩵

[thetruecaptain-blog]

Do you think that Amos wiped out the one part of his brain like the scientist guy had done to his? It was neither confirmed nor denied whether or not he did

Good question, Nonny!

I don’t think he did. I think actually that he understood/related to what Dresden was talking about, how that empathetic part of his brain was removed. I think Amos feels that that part of his brain is “turned off,” too. As viewers we know this isn’t true. Amos is capable of empathy and compassion, he just processes and expresses them differently. But I think Amos felt like he and Dresden were one in the same when it comes to lack of basic empathy for other people. Amos doesn’t have a very high opinion of himself. He doesn’t trust himself to do what’s right or even recognize what is right in the first place. Where everyone else was listening to the explanation about Dresden’s condition with a mixture of horror and pity, Amos was seeing a reflection of himself in Dresden. Of the monster that he could be if he hadn’t found a moral compass to attach himself to.When Amos asked “can it be reversed,” to me it came across that he was wondering the same thing about his own state of mind. Wondering maybe if there was any chance that he could be a good person like Holden or Naomi. That could be me reading into things too much there and I’m sure other people feel differently, but the expression on his face was just so stark in that moment. I felt like I could see the gears turning in his head as he considered the possibilities, considered the person he could be.

I honestly just wished in that moment that I could tell Amos all of the things that we, the viewers, see in him. Everything that Naomi sees in him and that Alex and Jim are starting to see, too. That he is good, and he is valuable. That his life matters and not just because he’s some thug that’s there to bust heads and protect other people.

Oh man now I’m having Amos feelings THANKS NONNY.

[wanderingguest]

+ @magicandsciencemuses asked: please talk to me. {Amos to Alex} Accepting ( it’s a meme )

“The hell you want me to say, huh?”

It’s meant to be aggressive, as aggressive as Alex can get. Unfortunately for him, it really just comes across sounding affectionate. Part of him is angry at himself for that affection being there. Does Amos even feel that sort of thing? Towards anyone? He doesn’t know the fucking answer to that question and it bugs him endlessly. They’ve gotten close, but what does that even mean to the other man? 

A sniff, finally a hand reaches out, claps on his shoulder. “Somethin’ happened back there, right? But you don’t ever tell me what’s goin’ on in your head, so how the hell am I supposed to know what to say? I’m tryin’, here, but you’re gonna have to try, too.”

[tuppencetrinkets-a]

          @rubiesintherough - fayne sent in A MEME. ( amos. ) // always accepting.

                          👀 – suck-off

              “Fuck --”  The word tripped out of him, his breath half stilted, half caught in his throat as fingers tightened against his thigh, as her lips dragged further along his flesh, twitching and rigid in the warmth of her mouth.   “Yeah,” he groaned, his voice low and husky, his fingers twisting further into the tumble of honey brown curls, tightening his hold against her head.  “Just like that, baby girl,” he breathed, the effort visible in his chest and shoulders, pulled taut, shoulders and hips braced against the wall through which he could still feel the pound of the club’s music, muffled only slightly by the wall between them and the club.   Hips shifted, thrusting in small movements to match hers, the heat of her mouth and the taunting flickers of her tongue against him just enough to keep him right on the edge and he could feel the heat burning, lurching in the tightness of his flesh in tandem to the stinging fire of alcohol that raced through his veins.  

[dindiarin]

happy birthday !! hope you're having a great day ! <3

Thank you so much!💕