#I'm so sorry for butchering this I really am

[kenmaspuddinghair]

Honorably discharged partially disabled Simon part 3

part one part two

this one has a happier ending than the last, but Simon is diagnosed with peripheral neuropathy ( pronunciation) which is a kind of nerve damage. sorry this one took a little long I had to research for this one

exactly 1.0k words :)

Here you are all alone sitting outside a hospital room at almost 3 AM with Simon's “Ghost” mask in your hands while he's in surgery right behind you, Price left a while ago to pick up some food and the other guys in the 141. According to the doctors Simon had peripheral neuropathy from the attack about a month ago, it spiked when he got into the fight with the man back at the butcher shop, for you, he got into a fight that caused this for you. You were trying your hardest not to cry when the doctor walked out “Okay, the surgery was a success, he isn't necessarily cured right now but as long as you take the right precautions and steps, it can get better and may go away over time, it could take months or even years though. He’ll need full-time care and if you're not up for that he’ll need a different nurse. I'll get you a sheet with all the information and potential symptoms” he said, already walking away. As you were going into the room another nurse came out from the room, “Are you his girlfriend, he just woke up and he keeps calling for you, he refuses to let us see his face, but we got what we need done” and before you got a chance to correct her she went off.

“Hey Simon, how are you?” First he removed his hands from over his face then his eyes went over your entire body slowly before he answered “Can’t really feel anythin, can ya put my mask on?” you smiled at him getting closer to pull the mask over his head. “Price will be here with Soap and Gaz, he's bringing some food too” he never answered you, he just kept staring at you with this look in his eyes, you just sat by his side looking over him. You sighed, “Simon listen, I don't know if they told you, but you have peripheral neuropathy, your nerves were damaged during the attack and, when you grabbed that guy it only made things worse” You paused but before you could continue he replied in a voice so soft you didn't know he could make that sound “it’s not your fault y’know, shouldn't attacked him” you smiled but before you could continue Price came in. “I'm assuming she told you about what happened and what's gonna be happening” It was as if something clicked in Simon's mind, he pushed himself up “She can stay right? She'll still be ‘ere to help me? Right? You'll stay to help me won’t ya?” he directed the last part to you, voice breaking and dripping with a mix of worry and horror. You looked him directly in his eyes and replied simply but firmly “Simon, I will stay and take care of you for as long as you let me”

Simon was discharged around 10 AM, the last few hours he spent joking with Soap and Gaz just eating food you knew was not good for them at all, but they had to leave a bit ago so now with the help of Price you got Simon in the car and back home. So far Simon only had a few symptoms, muscle weakness, muscle twitching/shaking, and occasional numbness and/or pain, so far it's stayed confide to Simon’s right under his collarbone, the exact part of his body that was stuck under rubble for hours, according to the doctors this is the best case scenario much worse could have happened to him. The plan was for you to make sure he ate well-rounded meals and didn't over-exert himself and give him a check-up weekly for any worsening symptoms or injuries.

Currently, you were in the kitchen cooking lunch while Simon and Price talked in the living room. “You like her a lot, don't you? And don't try to tell me you don't like her, even the nurse thought she was your girlfriend, you even let her see your face. I didn't even get to see your face for years” Simon just sighed, he couldn't exactly lie it was way too obvious, so he chose the next best thing to do “So what do I do? I don't even know if she's allowed to date me” “Well she's with the military so as long as I, the captain, says it's okay then it's okay, but you know she's not gonna ask you right?” Simon started to panic, was Price confirming his worst fear right now, that you didn't like him at all and wouldn't even give him a chance. “What do ya mean she won't ask me out, like she doesn't like me? Like-” “No no Simon, like she's not going to risk losing her job by asking her patient out, meaning you have to do it. Of course she likes you, are you dense?” 

Not only was Price saying that it was okay for you two to date but also encouraging it, but now he had to work up the nerve to actually do it, it would be simply right? He would just ask you out, that's it. “Lunch is ready.” just then Price stood up, grabbing his hat “I'm gonna head out now, make sure he eats” he directed the last part to you before heading to the door “Will do” you called “Oh also Simon, I forgot to mention but I'll need to stay in your room tonight, peripheral neuropathy can be really bad for some people at night so I should be there for you just in case” Price just chucked and smirked and Simon before closing the door behind him. God, who was Simon kidding, this is the hardest thing he's ever had to do, and that's saying a lot, Simon’s done countless terrifying things that would have the average civilian crying and yet Simon was panicking over asking a girl out, gosh, what were you doing to him. 

part four

tags- @piconico17 @just-lilita @madsdawson @silversfavfics @enfppuff @solazoro @sirbonesly

[karlachismylife]

Writing Russian-speaking characters

So I have once again been chuckling at some adorable clumsy Russian in Nikolai and Nikto fics, and thus I decided to make a little list that might be helpful for fellow COD writers here. And yes, please, feel free to reach out to me if you need any proofreading of your Russian phrases, I would be glad to assist since google translator can butcher it in ways non-speakers won't be able to notice.

I would really appreciate if you guys shared this post and helped it reach people that might need it, I put way more effort into it than I expected myself <3 Also, I might make a followup with some more words and/or phrases that can be useful, so please feel free to request some, since here I am mostly focusing on terms of endearment.

I will write down Russian words, their (approximate and wonky, sorry for that) transcription/transliteration and what part of speech they are (keep in mind that adjectives can be used as nouns when used to address someone) and provide according translation and use.

Keep in mind that in Russian the gender of the word is important!!! I'll write down them in following order: he/him (он/его) version/ she/her (она/её) version/ they/them (они/их) version. However! They/them is NOT traditionally used as gender-neutral pronouns, it's plural only. Some queer and younger folks do use they/them (myself included), but it does sound wonky as it's direct copy from English. Unfortunately, Russian is not very suitable for gender-neutral writing, but there are ways to go about it (I'll try to note some of that too).

*however, since Nikto is sometimes using plural they/them to describe himself, that would be okay with him since it's plural. I hope that makes sense, lol.

So if you're putting an adjective with a noun (example: милый котик) you have to use an adjective in the correct gender form FOR THE WORD! If the noun (котик here) is masculine, you use masculine adjective form EVEN if you're referring to a person with she/her pronouns.

What is love?

The main thing I noticed is that y'all use a direct translation of the word "love" - "любовь" [l'ubov'] (n) to refer to a person. As in "how are you doing, love?". However, that's wrong. "Любовь" is either a word to describe the feeling, or a name (short version would be Люба [Lyuba]). If you wanna use an affectionate pet name, consider one of the following!

дорогой/дорогая/дорогие [dorogoy/dorogaya/dorogiye] (adj) - means "darling". Often used between spouses. Mostly used to refer to person directly, sounds a little quirky if you use it to refer to them in third person (as in "my darling went out to buy some strawberries").

любимый/любимая/любимые [l'ubimiy/l'ubimaya/l'ubimiye] (adj) - means "beloved/loved/loved one" and is probably the closest to "love". You can use it to refer to person directly or to talk about them in third person (as in "can't wait to see любимую". Also yes, the endings are changing depending on the case and I'm not entirely sure how to explain this concisely without going deep into grammar lol).

милый/милая/милые [miliy/milaya/miliye] (adj) - the word means "cute/cutie", but is also used as a general terms of endearment, like "sweetheart". Mainly to refer to someone directly, using it in third person is a little old-fashioned I'd say. Also commonly used by people outside romantic partnership, a kind old lady can definitely call you over with this one asking to help her read expiration date on a milk bottle or something.

любовь моя [l'ubov' moya] (n + adj/pronoun) - okay, I kinda tricked you saying you can't use the word "love" to refer to a person. If you say this (means "my love"), you can! It's pretty romantic and I am actually the one person that uses this daily, otherwise it's either very romance-novel/old-fashioned sounding, but there are moments when it's perfectly suitable. Have that fairytale moment! Also please note, that while "моя любовь" [moya l'ubov'] (adj/pronoun + n) is grammatically correct, it sounds kinda weird if you use it to address the person directly (like in a phrase "my love, you shine brighter than the stars"). While Russian doesn't have particularly strict rules about word order, it does matter to some extent, and this is a prime example: people just use one order way more often that the other.

Pocket-sized

I've already told somewhere here my favourite Nikto fic moment: the sweetest, romantic moment, interrupted by him calling reader "детёныш", which means "cub" as in baby animal. And while my parents do use this word affectionately, I can assure you, most people don't, and it was clear that this was a result of a clumsy translation of "baby" or something like that. So here are some variants for words like baby, little one and such!

малыш/малышка [malysh/malyshka] (n) - I'd say this feels more "little one" than "baby" to me, it's a tad less sexually charged if you get what I mean. Also, you call "малыш" a person of any gender/pronouns, while "малышка" is strictly for she/her. Obviously can be used for kids too.

детка [d'etka] (n) - this one is definitely "baby" or "babe" as a term of endearment, calling a real kid this would be WEIRD if you're not a really old granny. I would also say that it's more commonly used to refer to female partners, but that might be just my perception and experience. It's still okay to use both ways. Also this word can be very much used if you need a little bit of sleazy/catcalling/bad pickup line energy, like someone shouting after a girl passing by on the street. Yuck.

маленький/маленькая [mal'en'kiy/mal'en'kaya] (adj) - this just means "little" or "small", I'd say it's used less commonly and usually in this form "маленький мой/маленькая моя" [mal'en'kiy moy/mal'en'kaya moya] (adj + adj/pronoun). I will expand on this a little later here! Can be used to refer to kids too.

All kinds of fauna

While poor детёныш is reserved for furry freaks like yours truly, there are some animal nicknames that are very widely spread! Here are some that I think would be most useful for y'all. Granted, some people think that these are a lil' bit cringey, but I think it really just depends on what you're used to hear around you. So if I think calling someone a cub is cute, and bunny is cringe, that probably says more about me :D

котик [kot'ik] (n) - this is a term of endearment for a cat. NOT same as kitten, mind you! Mostly used to refer to men (since the word is of masculine gender) - in my experience.

котёнок [kot'onok] (second o here is like ö in German) (n) - now THIS is "kitten". I would say this is more gender-neutral than the previous one, but the word is still masculine gender.

зайка [zayka] (n) - I believe this would be an equivalent to "bunny", although it's actually a cute word for a hare, not a rabbit. Definitely used for all genders (also the word can be both masculine and feminine gender), also is okay to use referring to kids (even teachers that are into endearing nicknames can call pupils this and it's not weird. well, in elementary school). You can also say "зайчонок" [zaych'onok] (n) which is a word for baby hare, even cuter.

рыбка [ribka] (n) - a term of endearment for a fish. I think it's viewed as a bit old-fashioned and thus only used jokingly nowadays, but you know what? Nikolai could pull this off 100%. Bonus points if it's "рыбка моя" [ribka moya] (n + adj/pronoun). Only used for women and the word itself is of feminine gender.

медвежонок [medv'ezhonok] (n) - now, I actually have never met someone who would call their partner this, but I myself would (and I definitely saw it in some media, but that's obv not too reliable). It's a word for a bear cub, so I think it's cute to call a huge ass bear of a military man this word. It's of masculine gender, but I would say it's okay to call a she/her person this too. ALTHOUGH there is a grammatically incorrect (but this only adds to cuteness as it often happens) word "медвежонка" [medv'ezhonka] (n) - this would be a female bear cub. My family uses this word, I use it, no, it won't be in a dictionary, but everyone will understand what you mean. Is okay to use for kids too.

щенок [sh'enok] (if it helps, щ is like German "schtsch", like in Borschtsch, like sh but soft) (n) - now, this actually is not used as a term of endearment, it's "puppy" and it's suitable for degradation. The word is of masculine gender, but you can call anyone this to be honest. You can tell Nikto he's "глупый щенок" [glupiy sh'enok] (adj + n) (silly puppy) and that man will either bark for you or gut you. If you say "тупой" [tupoy] (adj) (dumb) instead of "глупый" [glupiy] (adj) (silly), it will be downright offensive. You can say "щеночек" [sh'enochek] (n), which is an endearing term for a puppy, so it's a little bit sweete. OR you can use my personal favourite - "щен" [sh'en] (n), which is actually also incorrect, but if you've ever heard of a great poet and poetry innovator Mayakovskiy, he was called this word by Lilya Brik. I do NOT have the time to unpack that wild relationship (there was a throuple involved. Russian poetry scene of early XX century was WILD and it's my favourite poetry period hands down), but it's pretty famous. The word "щен" consists of the word "puppy" but with the end diminutive suffix cut off. The trick is, that while some words return to their non-diminutive form with such procedure, this one does not - so you're basically inventing a new word that now sounds quite degrading and harsh, but also sexy as hell (personal opinion). I would definitely call Nikto this word.

птичка [ptich'ka] (n) - that's just "birdie", but I actually wouldn't say many people use it to refer to each other. HOWEVER, Nikolai 100% calls his steel bird this. The word is of feminine gender and if you are calling a person this, it's probably more suitable for a woman.

цыпа [tsipa??] (n) or even цыпочка [tsipoch'ka] (n) - that's a chick, like a baby hen, used only to refer to women (feminine gender word). Honestly I only heard this in foreign films dubbed in Russian or like in jokes/sarcastic phrases. It's kinda rude/indecent/vulgar and the only man that can say that and stay attractive is Captain Jack Sparrow (he used this word in Russian dubbed Pirates like once maybe, talking to Elisabeth, and that was funny cuz he be crazy like that). But maybe you want this, idk.

And everything sweet

Unfortunately, I haven't seen anyone translate the word "honey" as "мёд" directly, that would be another brilliant laugh (cuz it's wrong to refer to a person like that), but there are some "sweet" words to use!

сладкий/сладкая [sladk'iy/sladkaya] (adj) - this just means "sweet", like the taste, and it can be sexy or sleazy or just cute. You can call a kid this word too, BUT for a child would be better сладенький/сладенькая [slad'en'kiy/slad'en'kaya], which is like one step further into diminutive-endearing department.

конфетка [konf'etka] (n) - this is a diminutive word for a candy, a sweet, like a caramel or chocolate or whatever. Not very common, but is cute. Also a way to describe a sexy/good-looking person (more likely a woman, the word is of feminine gender) or just something really good (a bit jokingly). The latter is usually used in a phrase build like "не ..., а просто конфетка", which is roughly translated "that's not ... that's just plain candy". Might have an actual English equivalent that I can't think of right now. Maybe "a total snack"? Probably that one, yeah. Can be said about anything, a car for example.

Shiny

I wanna stick in a few more words of endearment and they all are kinda shiny, lol, so here you go!

солнце [solntse] (n) - this means "sun", like that big glowing thingy in the sky, but it's very welcome as a term of endearment. This word is NEUTER gender (explained in the next section). Viktor Tsoy (a famous rock musician with an unfortunate fate and immortal cultural heritage) had a song ("Cuckoo" - "Кукушка") with the words "солнце моё, взгляни на меня" [solntse moyo, vzgl'yan'i na m'en'ya] (my sun, look at me), so "солнце моё" (n + adj/n) is a good one. You can also use "солнышко" [solnyshko] (n) which is an endearing version of "sun", so it's like "sunshine". Also of neuter gender! Can and should be used to address kids too.

золотце [zolottse] (n) - this literally means like... a little gold? A little golden piece? I don't think there's a proper equivalent in English. It's a word of neuter gender and it's very much used for kids too. Another version would be "золотой мой/золотая моя/золотые мои" [zolotoy moy/zolotaya moya/zolotiye moyi] (adj + adj/pronoun) - this is "my golden", it's a little less common and I feel like it's often used to be condescending, but it's not inherenrly bad, so you can use it for a loved one.

сокровище [sokrov'ish'e] (once again it's щ, look previously) (n) - this is a word of neuter gender and it means "treasure". I personally adore this one and it's pretty common. Can be used for any gender and for kids!

звёздочка [zv'yozdoch'ka] (n) - this is like a little star/starshine. Wouldn't say it's that common, but I use it a lot. The word itself is of feminine gender, but you can call anyone that! Or you can say "звезда моя" [zv'ezda moya] (n + adj/pronoun), which means "my star". Also feminine gender word, but can be used for anyone.

This dog belongs to...

I am not going to go too deep into sexy/sex-related words in this part, because I'll just get overwhelmed with the amount, but I want to go over some words of ownership quickly.

мой/моя/мои/моё [moy/moya/moyi/moyo] (adj/pronoun) - this means my/mine. It goes really well with many words in this list, especially the adjectives, like "мой дорогой" [moy dorogoy] (my darling) or "солнышко моё" [solnyshko moyo] (my sun/sunshine). The last version, "моё" [moyo] is neuter gender, it's NOT gender-neutral! It's the "it/its" I guess (not exactly, but let's just stick with this simplyfied explanation). Previously there were some words of that gender, so here you go. BTW I would say that in speech it's more common to put this word before adjectives and after nouns (like in my examples), just sounds better, but it's not wrong to do otherwsise. You can also just say "ты мой" [ti moy] (you're mine). Also can be used to refer in third person, like when you're discussing your man with your gossip girls, you can just go "а мой вчера..." [a moy vch'era] (and mine yesterday...) and everyone will understand that you mean your man. Unless you wee discussing pets, then they'll probably assume it's your cat.

хозяин/хозяйка [khoz'yain/khoz'yayka] (n) - saw this one too btw. This means "owner" or kiiiinda "master/mistress", and they are gendered, so it's actually wrong to call a woman "хозяин" unless there's some kinky genderfuckery going on (which I'm all for, but like. you get what I mean).

господин/госпожа [gospod'in/gospozha] (n) - okay, THAT is definitely master/mistress, also gendered. Standard BDSM terminology and yada yada.

And that's where I'd like to wrap up for today! However, if needed, I can write more - perhaps with curse words or with sex-related words, or some phrases? I dunno, you tell me! Once again, I kindly ask you to share since I think this will help people (and while I understand the struggle of writing in another language and especially using words from language you don't speak at all, I can't help but be a little thrown off every time I see a wrong use of words in text).

Also remember: while Siberia is bigger than USA or even Canada, there are still other regions in Russia that deserve to be mentioned <3 a lot of places with mindblowing nature, cultural heritage etc.

[sai-int]

hihi i recently discovered your blog and i am in love with you writing!! it’s so beautiful and i wish i could wallpaper it to the insides of the brain tehe i’m super interested to see how you’d write daddy kink with either price or simon (or whoever else you see most fit)! i wanted to keep this req general/basic so you could really do anything you want with it but here are some dynamics/au’s/etc. that i find enjoyable, in general, in case it sparks anything: soft dom, leashes/crawling, wild west au (bonus points for boot riding 🫣), boxer au, butcher!char x florist!reader, and ballerina!reader. (sorry felt like that list was all over the place LOL.)

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! And ooooou anon. The way I evilly rubbed my hands together when I read this... Also, if you're looking for price and boot riding, look no further.

Here's some butcher!simon x fem!florist!reader, plus a sprinkle of softdom!simon w a daddy kink

The bell over the shop door chimes, delicate and bright—a sound far too gentle for the man who steps inside. Simon's too big for a place like this, too heavy with the scent of blood and metal. The air, thick with lavender and roses, should soften him—but instead, he makes the space feel smaller, like the walls close in just for him.

You barely look up from the bouquet in your hands, carefully tying off a bundle of peonies. "You're late," you murmur, but there's no real scolding behind it, just soft acknowledgment.

Simon grunts, gently shutting the door behind him. His boots hit the wooden floor with their usual weight as he steps closer, watching you with an unreadable, steady gaze. "Had a long day," he mutters. "Some tosser ordered a full side o' beef last minute. Took me the better part o' the afternoon t'quarter it."

You frown, already wiping your hands on your apron, instinctively stepping toward him. "Oh, Si," you hum, reaching to brush your fingers over his forearm. "That sounds awful. You must be exhausted."

His fingers twitch, his gaze dropping to where your soft hand press against his skin. You always touch him so freely, without hesitation—like he wasn't too big, too rough, too covered in things you had no business being near.

Simon exhales, his shoulders shifting. "I can handle it."

"I know you can," you say, voice soft, warm. "Doesn't mean you should have to."

That makes him pause. He tilts his head, watching you carefully, his hands already finding their place at your waist, large and warm. You fit against him so easily, so naturally, like you belong right there.

Your eyes flick downward, catching the faint streak of something crimson near his elbow.

"Simon." You frown, taking his wrist between your hands, your delicate fingers turning it slightly. "You've still got—"

"Blood," he supplies flatly.

You swallow, your fingers smoothing gently over the stain. "You should've washed up more before coming here."

His lips twitch. "Didn't want t'keep y'waiting, dollface."

Your heart squeezes at that, warmth blooming in your chest. He's never the type to say much, but little things like this—small, quiet acts of care—spoke louder than words ever could.

You wrap your arms around him, looping them around his middle, pressing yourself against his broad chest. He's solid as ever, warm as always. You hold him tightly, sighing against the fabric of his shirt.

"You take such good care of me, you know that?"

His hands flex on your waist, his fingers spreading wide, like he's trying to feel all of you at once.

"Yeah?' His voice drops to something lower, something rougher.

You nod, rubbing your cheek lightly against his chest. "Mhm. You always make sure I'm safe— always there for me." You smile softly against him, letting yourself sink into his warmth. "So good to me."

His arms tighten around you, pressing you firmly against him, one hand trailing up your back, fingers tangling briefly in the little bow of your apron. "Course I am," he mutters, his voice thick with something deeper, heavier. "Gotta look after what’s mine, yeah?"

That makes your stomach flutter, your breath hitch.

Your voice softens, warmer, something meant just for him. "That's why I love being yours," you breath, your breath warm against his skin. You let the words linger, let them settle between you, before you add, in a whisper full of quiet, saccharine affection—

"Daddy."

Simon tenses in your hold, a sharp inhale cutting through the air. His hands tightens at your waist, fingers digging in, just shy of rough.

Posessive

"Fuck, dove" he rasps, voice strained. Then, in a rough whisper, like he was barely holding himself together— "Right here? In the middle of y'shop?"

You giggle, shaking your head. "No, not here," you hum, still teasing, still warm against him. "But I get off in an hour."

His grip stayed firm, his nose brushing against your temple, his voice dropping even lower.

"I could get you off in less."

Your mouth falls slack in shock before you huff, swatting at his arm. "Si!"

He chuckles, smug as ever, his grip on you unrelenting. "What?" His lips ghost the shell of your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "Just sayin'"

You swat at him again, though it was weaker this time, warmth blooming in your chest, your stomach twisting with anticipation.

Simon leans back slightly, reaching into his front pocket to pull out a folded bill. With a casual ease, he slips it between his fingers, glancing down your shirt, his height making it effortless, before tucking the bill into your bra.

"F'the flowers," he said, voice rich with amusement. "Bring home somethin' nice, yeah? Something' soft."

His gaze drops to your lips before flicking back up to your eyes, dark and unreadable. "Not everything I touch has to bleed." He gently presses his lips to yours, savoring the taste of you until he can get you to himself at home.

And with that, he heads home, leaving you warm, breathless, and counting down every second until you can lock up for the night and let him keep his promise.

[inosukijiro]

✮⋆˙ giyuu has a crush

𝘀𝘆𝗻. ━ giyuu is wholeheartedly in love with you.

⟡ 𝗮𝗻𝗻𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 .ᐟ no bc i am making this man a pathetic simp for you idc. im writing these with myself in mind so yk, i have to pour out my feelings. and also i need to get all this giyuu writing off my chest, its actually a problem the fixation i have on this man but no fics tickle my brain just right so i have to write them myself

⟡ 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 .ᐟ none. giyuu might be a little ooc. modern reader in kny. i rewrote this a few times so pls be nice 🤧. 1.4k words.

─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───

Giyuu actually doesn’t know how this occurred. No, actually that was a lie. He knew how this happened, but didn’t at the same time. And honestly speaking, the man does not care at all. You were so nice and sweet to Giyuu it made his head spin. Like it makes him ill in the best way imaginable. He doesn’t understand why you want to be around him so much, why you want to be his friend – not that he minds – but he just can’t get past his own indiscretions about himself. That was until you told him to his face.

You tell him that you thought he was cute – I'm sorry? – and you liked how calm he was – really? His brain can’t compute anything that you say. He doesn’t know if you need any medical assistance or he’s just dreaming. But it makes you laugh. The cute, dumb look on his face as he stands there, gaping at you like a fish.

It wasn’t like it was new information. You did enjoy his company the most. He was very quiet and by no means were you either, but you have this habit of matching the energy of people you were with. So, it was almost relaxing and refreshing spending time with Giyuu. Though Giyuu is silent most of the time, he does in fact talk. At first it's about a mission he was on recently, if and most likely when he gets more comfortable with you, he’s talking a little more in depth about random things that are on his brain. It's endearing really. Or sometimes he’s just talking about things that he thinks you might like to know, random facts, and so on.

But sometimes you do the talking and he likes that too. You could talk for hours and he could listen to every word you have to say. He would soak it up like a sponge as you focus your eyes on the crochet hooks weaving in front of you. Your voice is quiet and nice, soft and warm sounding.

This typically happens when you visit his estate. And you visit his estate a lot. Maybe Giyuu was a little disappointed that you weren’t staying with him, but he knows that he shouldn’t bite the hand that feeds. He’s lucky enough to see you this much, as much as he's lucky to see you at all. He can’t be too mad though. Mitsuri has jumped you the first moment she got when the Master had brought up your living arrangements. You had nowhere to go. And honestly, Giyuu may have been a little relieved that Mitsuri of all people had gotten to you first.

He really wouldn’t have minded if it had been Rengoku or Gyomei. For obvious reasons, Rengoku would be happy to have him stopped by and probably Gyomei too, because it seems like they don’t have a bone to pick with him. Honestly speaking, he wouldn’t have minded Muichiro either, though the boy would have probably forgotten your existence within the day. But any of the others, the thought made his skin crawl for plenty of reasons. Maybe it was because it would have become a hassle, or he would be harassed every time he went to visit you. Yes, it does seem on par with him that might just avoid you so you don’t get verbally assaulted like he does if you were to associate with him. But he was a lonely, pathetic man who was enamored with you at first glance the minute you showed up out of nowhere and he couldn’t help but thank the heavens that the stars had aligned so nicely for him – even if he felt he didn’t deserve it.

His only issue with the arrangement was Obanai. The man had almost butchered him on numerous occasions just for showing up to the Love estate. Even if he wasn’t there for Mitsuri, the Serpent Hashira didn’t seem to care. Maybe it was funny the first few times – it actually wasn’t – but you really couldn’t keep your mouth shut anymore. Obanai was wearing you thin with his commentary. Everytime Giyuu was around, it was like the others just couldn’t help themselves by making a comment insulting the man. Maybe it was because you didn’t want to disrespect a Hashira, especially if four of them were in the room with you, but Giyuu was here to see you, and it was almost like insulting Giyuu was an insult to you for wanting to spend time with him.

Mitsuri was okay with Giyuu coming to visit you, she actually encouraged it. So watching Mitsuri stand behind you while you gave Iguro a piece of your mind was something Giyuu didn’t know he needed to see until then. And maybe he did allow himself to feel a little selfish and smile mentally. He still remembers how Iguro had this look of disdain on his face, simultaneously looking like a scolded child and embarrassed because this was happening in front of Mitsuri.

Giyuu wondered if you caught the look that Obanai and Kaburamaru were giving you – if looks could kill and all that – but that was stupid. You most certainly did and just didn’t care enough. And Giyuu also wonders just what kind of sorcery you have, because he did hear you mention Sanemi by name at some point and now he's not bothering him as much, especially when you are around.

It wasn’t like he could do anything about it, not like he had ever done anything about it in the past. He never really had the heart to correct anyone in their assumptions of him, he never really thought he had to. Though, that mainly was because he thought he deserved such mistreatment. Regardless, it didn’t matter how he felt about it and himself. If you enjoyed his company that much to defend him, he was going to provide as much of it as you wanted. But there was something about it that made his heart swell a little bit bigger and flooded him with enough warmth that you could have mistaken it as him having a fever.

Now here the two of you were, sitting outside the Water Estate. You both had taken your places by the koi pond Giyuu has. It's so calm and cool. The soft moving of water could be heard every time the wind blew just enough, as well as the sharp sound of water splashing because some fish got too close to the surface.

Giyuu isn’t losing himself as he stares at the pond, watching the fish move around. He finds himself mesmerized though, as you talk. It’s nice, as usual. He likes how you talk and the way you talk. He could listen to you for hours and never get tired of hearing you. And he knows that if he glances at you now, even briefly, he wouldn’t be able to look away. You just look so… wonderful. It makes him dizzy. But he has such a weak will to do so, and now he's staring at you. Eyes soft and relaxed. He has never felt so content.

Giyuu doesn’t know if he realizes what kind of situation he is in. Or maybe he does. Maybe he’s finally realizing just how much of an effect you have on him. He likes you. He likes you beyond anything in the world. He loves you and everything about you.

You don't notice him staring. You’re too busy weaving the crochet hook in and out of your craft. You make it look so effortless. So enjoyable. And you seem so happy crocheting away as you speak. The way you talk and do it at the same time, you're so smart. You have to be. And Giyuu can’t help but hope you don’t look up. You’re as mesmerized with your work as he is with you. He would die though, if you caught him. The thought makes him sweat almost, being so close to you like this. His hands are clammy, and he's never been this nervous.

Yeah, he definitely has it bad for you. And for the first time in a while, even despite his nerves, he found the corners of his lips curling upwards, in a soft and timid smile. He averts his eyes, almost to gather his bearings, but that isn't enough. The subtle flush creeping onto his cheeks betrayed him. But he couldn’t be more delighted.

⟡ .ᐟ thank you for reading !

[captain-bubble-wrap]

Can you do smth w Quinn and like reader in Med school

I really hope I didn't butcher this! I spent some time pouring over some anatomy test keys and student fears, so I hope it tracks well! 🩷

"Baby, can you help me with something?"

You were laying on the floor of Quinn's living room when you yelled for him. You needed to study for an upcoming exam, but the lack of willpower was keeping you from doing anything. You weren't sure he had heard you, but eventually he appeared overhead, smiling at you being so over-dramatic.

"Have you fallen and you can't get up?" He teased, obviously proud of his stupid joke.

"That's not funny! And no, I'm perfectly content where I am, thank you!" You'd stick your tongue out at him before telling him why exactly you had hollered, "Can you quiz me? I've that big anatomy test Friday and I'm stressing about it."

Quinn quickly fell back into his professional way of being, "Oh, of course, sorry. Yeah, I'll help you."

Your arm shot upwards into the air, with a fistful of papers full of potential questions for him to throw at you. It wasn't that you weren't confident that you knew the information, but it never hurt to see just how much -or how little- you knew. For your sake, you hoped you knew as much as you thought you did or waiting till the last minute to crunch was going to be a problem.

"Alright, where do you want me to start?" He asked, shocked by the amount of pages he had to flip through. You had highlighted the correct answers already, so all he had to do was read.

"Doesn't matter, they're all out of order anyway."

Flopping down on the sofa, Quinn shuffled them a few more times for good measure, before getting started. "Am I going to be able to pronounce half of this stuff?"

His question made you laugh, "Hopefully, but I should be able to discern what you mean if I know the answer...that is -- if I know the answer."

"You'll be fine. Okay, what describes the role of a tendon?"

"They attach muscles to bones," you answered confidently. You were thankful he had started off easy enough, though it did little for your confidence, but it was a start nonetheless.

"Correct. Um, name the three subdivisions of human anatomy."

This one was easy, too, but you knew good as any, that the easy ones could still trip you up; over-confidence was a killer. "Gross, microscopic, and developmental."

"Good job, babe. Okay, let me see if I can find something harder."

You let your eyes fall closed as he rummaged through the two dozen or so pages until he found something he thought might give you some trouble.

"Red blood cell production is know as what?"

"Erythropoiesis?"

He chuckled, "I'm glad you had to say that instead of me! But yeah, good job. I'm guessing that wasn't hard, was it?"

"Not really, no, but it's okay. It just feels good to go over them."

For the next fifteen minutes, Quinn rambled off questions and you had been able to answer them all correctly. He hadn't understood why you seemed so unconfident in yourself, but when asked if you wanted him to read more off, you said yes, so as long as he had the time.

"Oh, this is gonna be fun," he joked. "Specific damage to the arcuate fas-cic-ulus would cause this kind of aphasia?"

"Hey, you got it just fine! I thought 'arcuate' would have tripped you up more than 'fasciculus', but um, I think it's conduction aphasia?"

Quinn giggled, "Ding, ding, ding! I think I've found the pages with the stuff I can't pronounce. Well, maybe not this one: this protein of the thin filament blocks myosin binding sites when the muscle is at rest?"

"Um...hm," you pondered. There were two options that came to mind, and you were leading slightly more to one than the other. "Is it tropomyosin?"

He smiled, "It is, good job! I thought I had you there for a second. Alright, name the disorder in which antibodies cause a decrease in the number of active --ah dammit-- ace-tyl-choline receptors at the neuromuscular junction?"

"I think it's myasthenia gravis," you laughed. He was trying his best, and you couldn't blame him for stumbling over those words. He read a lot, but it wasn't medical journals. "One more good one and you can quit."

"Hmmm, alright, what is 'humoral stimulus'?"

"Humoral stimulus is the secretion of hormones in response to changing blood levels of ions."

"That's wild, but yes, you're right. You did great, babe."

There was a sigh from your place on the floor. You back was starting to hurt, but you didn't have the strength to get up. "That wasn't even the tip of the iceberg of the stuff that's going to be on the test, though."

Quinn, sensing your disappointment, even though you didn't get a single question wrong, left his place on the sofa to lay beside you on the floor. "Is there something else that's bothering you? I've never seen you so worried about a test before."

His fingers danced through your hair slowly, propped up on his elbow beside you. Quinn was always so attentive and gentle, something you admired about him in this fast-paced and harsh world.

"I'm just...scared," you finally confessed.

He frowned, "About what?"

"About failing out, not being able to keep up. I don't know if I can keep up with all of the hours. My clinicals have been killing me. And above all else, I'm-- I'm scared of losing you." You'd turn to look at him, tears welling in your eyes having confessed a deep fear that had been gnawing at you since getting your acceptance letter.

"Aw, baby, don't worry about me. I'm not going anywhere."

"You say that, but it feels like I've seen you twice in a month. I lose a lot of time wondering if you're going to meet someone else; someone who's always around when you're free."

Quinn didn't reply immediately. He could tell what you had told him meant a great deal, and that it hadn't been easy to say. He wanted to make sure his reply didn't make light of a very real fear of yours. "You mean the absolute world to me, baby. What you're studying to do is incredible, and more than I could ever imagine of accomplishing. I just play hockey; you're studying to be a doctor! That means so much more! I know your schedule and mine haven't been linking up, but I look forward to the times that we get to spend together, even if that's me stumbling over some crazy medical terms to make sure you're ready for a test. I'll do everything I possibly can --make as much time available for you-- to see that you succeed. And I mean that: all of it, okay?"

"Yeah," you mumbled. "I'm sorry, Quinn. I'm just not-- feeling worth the time."

Quinn's lips found you temple. "I love you, so, so much, Y|N. Even if I can only talk to you for ten minutes, I promise it's the best ten minutes of my day."

"You're just being nice," you confessed.

"I'm telling the truth. I'm not going to let you go because you're working on your career. That would be like you leaving me because we missed the playoffs."

You managed a smile at his silly analogy. He did have a point and you were thankful he was so mature for his age. "Thank you, Quinn, really. And, I love you. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Well, I know one thing: you wouldn't be laughing at my inability to pronounce 'fasciculus'!"

[acquelus-ussy]

So ive been a reader for quite some time now and i just decided to write stuff! So this is my first time writing please give me criticisms and i hope yall will enjoy! Pls be nice i will literally cry Also Afab reader! Sorry guys i don't know how to write for amab

SOFT YANDERE ALERTTTT

~~~

Yandere! Cowboy who came back to the county after a bounty hunting mission bringing back tons of money He went to the bar where he frequents and decided to buy everyone a round of drinks (he really got a big bounty) then thats where

Farmer! Reader comes in you were drinking with some of your employees when you heard yandere!cowboy say a round of drinks was on him And you being the ever so kind darling! after the hype died down you went to his table to thank him

"Well, hello there, Mr. Cowboy! I just wanted to thank you for the round of drinks. If you want, I can buy you some grub to go with your beer."

Then you slipping some cash discreetly to him he pushes back the cash

"Thank you, sweetheart, but it's 'aight. What's the use of buying y'all drinks for free if you're just gon' buy me some grub? But if you must insist… why not keep me company, sugar?"

And you, looking rugged from a day's work on the farm milking the cows, gathering the eggs, and butchering the pigs you can’t help but wonder is this man flirting with you, or is he just really nice?

He pushes off the person who was sitting next to him and pats the seat "come on sugar you sitting or what?" he looks at you with heart eyes he knew he was in love

"If you're making me your lady of the night, I am not a whore, darling. And besides, a few drinks aren't enough to buy me for the night. I look too dirty to be a common whore, let alone be yours I'm a pig-slaughtering farmer, for God's sake."

you say

"If I were to make you my lady of tonight, you would already be sitting on my lap and giving my cheeks wonderful kisses, ain't it? And don't worry, that wasn't my intention at all, sugar, but you caught my eye. Tell me more about you, what do ya say? Pig-slaughtering farmer."

he chuckles lowly tilting his giant mug of beer to you then drinking it

When he first walked in and saw you sitting there, smiling with your people, something in his heart told him he must have you right then and there. But he didn't want to creep you out, so he set up a ploy buying everyone a round of drinks, hoping you'd come by to thank him. And you did.

You even offered to buy him some food to go with his beer what else could a lonely cowboy ask for?!

Soon, in the middle of the night, you'll hear some rustling outside the barn. But don’t worry, sugar it’s just your sweet cowboy, trying to discreetly see you, pookie. <3

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Brother makes a demon-haunted printer

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me in RICHMOND TOMORROW (Mar 5) and in AUSTIN> on Mar 10. More tour dates here. Mail-order signed copies from LA's Diesel Books.

You guys, I don't want to bum you out or anything, but I think there's a good chance than some self-described capitalists aren't really into capitalism.

Sorry.

Take incentives: Charlie Munger, capitalism's quippiest pitchman, famously said, "Show me the incentive and I’ll show you the outcome." And here's some mindblowing horseshoe theory for ya: Munger agrees with the noted Communist agitator Adam Smith, whose anti-rentier, pro-government-regulation jeremiad "The Wealth of Nations" contains this notorious passage:

It is not from the benevolence of the butcher, the brewer, or the baker that we expect our dinner, but from their regard to their own self-interest. We address ourselves not to their humanity but to their self-love, and never talk to them of our own necessities, but of their advantages.

Incentives matter – if you design a system that permits abuse, you should expect abuse. Now, I'm not 100% on board with this: every one of us has ways to undetectably cheat the system and enrich ourselves, but most of the time, most of us play by the rules.

But it's different for corporations: the myth of "shareholder supremacy" has reached pandemic levels among the artificial lifeforms we call corporate persons, and it's impossible to rise through the corporate ranks without repeating and believing the catechism that there is a law that requires executives to lie, cheat and steal if it results in an extra dollar for the investors, in the name of "fiduciary duty":

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/18/falsifiability/#figleaves-not-rubrics

And this attitude has leaked out into politics and everyday life, so that many of our neighbors have been brainwashed into thinking that a successful cheat is a success in life, that pulling a fast one "makes you smart":

https://pluralistic.net/2024/12/04/its-not-a-lie/#its-a-premature-truth

In a world dominated by a belief in the moral virtue and legal necessity of ripping off anyone you can get away with cheating, then, sure, any system that permits cheating is a system in which cheating will occur.

This shouldn't be controversial, but if so, how are we to explain the whole concept of the Internet of Things? Installing networked computers into our appliances, office equipment, vehicles and homes is an invitation of mischief: the software in those computers can be remotely altered after you purchase them, taking away the features you paid for and then selling them back to you.

Now, an advocate for market-based solutions has a ready-made response to this: if a company downgrades a device you own, this merely invites another company to step in with a disenshittifying plug-in that makes things better. If the company that made your garage-door opener pushes an over-the-air update that blocks you from using an ad-free, well-designed app and forces you to use an enshittified app that forces you to look at ads before you can open the garage, well, that's an opportunity for a rival company to sell you a better software update for your garage-door opener, one that restores the lost functionality:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/09/lead-me-not-into-temptation/#chamberlain

I'm no hayekpilled market truefan, but I'm pretty sure that would work.

However.

The problem is that since 1998, that kind of reverse-engineering has been a felony under Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, which bans bypassing "an effective access control"

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

There's a pretty obvious incentive at play when companies have the ability to unilaterally alter how their products work after you buy them and you are legally prohibited to change how the product works after you buy them. This is the first lesson of the Darth Vader MBA: "I am altering the deal. Pray I don't alter it any further":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/26/hit-with-a-brick/#graceful-failure

I've been banging this drum for decades now – like when I got into a public (friendly) spat with the editor of Wired magazine over their reviews of DRM-based media devices. I argued that it was irresponsible to review a device that could be unilaterally downgraded by the manufacturer at any time, without – at a minimum – noting that the feature you're buying the gadget for might disappear without warning after you've shelled out your hard-earned money:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/03/painful-burning-dribble/#law-of-intended-consequences

Of course, companies that get a reputation for these kinds of shenanigans might lose market share to better competitors. Sure, if the company that made your phone or your thermostat or your insulin pump reached into it across the internet and made it worse, you're shit out of luck when it comes to that device. But you can buy your next device from a better company, right?

Well, sure – in a competitive market, that's a plausible theory of "market discipline." Companies that fear losing business to rivals might behave themselves better.

In theory.

But in practice, the world's "advanced economies" have spent the past 40 years running an uncontrolled experiment in what happens if you don't enforce competition law, and instead allow companies to buy all their competitors. The result is across-the-board industrial oligopolies, cartels, duopolies and monopolies in nearly every category of good and service:

https://www.openmarketsinstitute.org/learn/monopoly-by-the-numbers

Now, even a duopoly has some competition. If you don't like Coke, there's always Pepsi. But again, in practice, companies in concentrated industries find it easy to "tacitly collude" to adopt one another's worst habits – the differences between the outrageous payment processing charged by Apple's App Store and the junk fees charged by Google Play are about as meaningful as the differences between Coke and Pepsi.

Which brings me to printers.

I know.

Ugh.

Printers are the worst and HP is the worst of the worst. For years, HP has been abusing its market dominance – and its customers' wallets – by inflating the price of ink and rolling out countermeasures to prevent you from refilling your old cartridges or buying third-party ink. Worse, HP have mastered the Darth Vader MBA, bushing updates to its printers that sneakily downgrade them after you've bought them and taken them home.

Here's a sneaky trick HP came up with: they send a "security update" to your printer. After you click "OK," a little progress bar zips across the screen and the printer reboots itself, and then…nothing. The printer declares itself to be "up to date" and works exactly like it did before you installed the update. But inside the printer, a countdown timer has kicked off, and then, months later, the "security update" activates itself, like a software Manchurian Candidate.

Because that "security update" protects the security of HP, against HP customers. It is designed to detect and reject the very latest third-party ink cartridges, which means that if you've just bought a year's worth of ink at Costco, you might wake up the next day and discover that your printer will no longer accept them – because of an update you ran six months before.

Why does HP put such a long fuse on its logic bomb? For the same reason that viruses like covid evolve to be contagious before you show symptoms. If the update immediately broke compatibility with third party ink, word would spread, and some HP customers would turn off their printers' wifi before the "security update" could be applied to them.

By asymptomatically incubating the infection over a long, patient timescale, HP maximizes the spread of the contagion, guaranteeing a global pandemic of enshittiification:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/11/ink-stained-wretches-battle-soul-digital-freedom-taking-place-inside-your-printer

HP has done this – and worse – over and over, and every time I write about it, people pop up to recommend their Brother printers as the enshittification-free alternative. I own a Brother, an HL3170-CDW laser printer that's basically indestructible, cheerfully accepts third-party toner, and costs almost nothing to run.

But I still don't connect it to my wifi. The idea that Brother is a better company than HP – that is possesses some intrinsic antienshittificatory virtue – has always struck me as a foolish belief. Brother has means, motive and opportunity to push over-the-air downgrades to block third-party ink as HP.

Which is exactly what they've done.

Yesterday, Louis Rossman, hero of the Right to Repair movement, revealed that Brother had just pushed a mandatory over-the-air update that locks out third-party ink:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bpHX_9fHNqE

Rossman has a thorough technical breakdown of the heist, but it boils down to this. Brother is just as shit as HP. Look from the men to the pigs and the pigs to the men all you want – you will never spot the difference. Take the Pepsi Challenge – bet you won't be able to guess which is which:

https://wiki.rossmanngroup.com/wiki/Brother_ink_lockout_%26_quality_sabotage

This was the absolutely predictable outcome of the regulatory incentives our corporate overlords created, the enormous, far-reaching power we handed to these corporations. With that great power came no responsibility:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/02/26/ursula-franklin/#franklinite

Filling our devices with computers that run programs that can be changed in secret, that we're not allowed to inspect or alter? It's a recipe for a demon-haunted world, where the devices we entrust with our livelihood, our privacy and our wellbeing are possessed by hellions who escape from the digital Tartarus and are unleashed upon humanity.

Demons have possessed the Internet of Things. It's in Teslas:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/28/edison-not-tesla/#demon-haunted-world

and in every other car, too:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon

Our devices – phones, pacemakers, appliances and home security systems – are designed to prevent us to find out what they're doing. That means that when malicious software infects them, then – by design – these devices prevent us from knowing about it or doing anything about it:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/18/descartes-delenda-est/#self-destruct-sequence-initiated

This should not come as a surprise to anyone. Show me the incentive and I'll show you the outcome.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/03/05/printers-devil/#show-me-the-incentives-i-will-show-you-the-outcome

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 14: Don't Be A Bundt Cake

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV, Soldier Boy POV

Summary:  When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you never expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you're around him the more you hate him, but you can't help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team.  (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (Not in this chapter), Slow Burn, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Soft Ben/ Soldier Boy, Protective Ben/Soldier Boy, Miscommunication Trope

Word Count: 13.1K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), Swearing, Mentions of Sex, Sexual Innuendo, Talks of Death, DENIAL, Idiots in Love, Pining by the Reader (and SB, but he won't admit it) Depressing Thoughts, Mentions of sexual assault/rape (not detailed at all, really just in passing) Talks about weed, Sexist comments, Ben makes derogatory comments, Threatening Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Spotify Playlist 🪴

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

A/N: I am so sorry this one took me a bit longer. The writers block was fighting me the whole way, but we are very closely nearing the end of this series and the moment the reader and Ben stop being so stinkin' stubborn.

Reader POV

You lean your forehead against the cool window, watching the world flash by in a flurry of color. The wooded forests had vanished hours ago and all that was left were the yellowed sprawling fields of corn and grain and family farms that were laid sporadically along the interstate. Each one a little world that caught the flecks of golden sunlight as the sun began to peak above the horizon.

The bus rolled smooth and steady over the weathered pavement towards it's destination and was filled with an odd assortment of people young and old. There was man with a brightly colored parrot that had been singing "It's A Small World After All" since you left NYC, a woman with a little boy playing with an iPad and who refused to turn down the volume no matter how many times his mother asked him to, a group of teenagers a few seats up that continued to pass around a flask, and due to how far back you were sitting on the bus an uncomfortable smell emanated from the bathroom each time the door was opened.

But you didn't notice any of it.

The only thing on your mind were the events that happened almost twenty hours ago. They continued to circle your mind, playing over and over again like a perverted cassette tape making you sink further into the worn cloth covered seat at the back of the bus. The images were haunting, some new and some old, but all the more still horrible to re-live.

The song "Nights In White Satin" floating into the backseat of your family's car, the flash of unnatural light you knew was never lightning, the caskets at your parent's funeral covered in flowers that were much to pretty to lay on something so morbid, Elijah's body succumbing to the poppies that ripped him apart, the proud sneer on your brother's face when he admitted to killing your parents, Darren's broken and bloodied body strewn in pieces over the street with the creature standing over him with a dripping red maw, the ruined building that housed "Please Don't Die" reduced to nothing more than rubble, and the look on Ben's face when you turned your back on him and fled the scene.

For some reason that particular image seemed to cling on to you and refused to fade. You'd never seen him look that way, almost… helpless and a little fearful. In all the time you'd known him, Ben had never looked at you that way. Sure you'd seen him proud, angry, cocky, lustful, mischievous, but never fearful. And you were sure that it wasn't an emotion that he was used to feeling, but that begged the question… why?

Why was he looking at me like that? Why wouldn't he let me go? And what was he afraid of?

The creature curled in your lap snorts something in it's sleep, turning it’s head further into the cradle of your elbow to shut out the brilliant early morning sunlight. It was now the size of a toaster and had warranted several odd looks whenever you got off to change buses, but you didn't care.

You weren't sure about anything anymore. Everything your brother confessed to you made you feel like you were living a lie and the revelation of exactly what your powers could do- take life from plants to heal yourself, create whatever the hell it was on your lap, and speak to plants… it scared you.

You thought for so long that you knew everything about your powers, that you were in control, but now you weren't sure.

You felt different, as if something had unlocked deep down that you couldn't shut up again.

You'd felt different after you killed Elijah, but this was more alive, weaving and twisting in the pit of your stomach. You felt more connected to the earth, to the world outside the bus even though you were divided by glass and metal. You could feel the energy that thrummed through the body of the creature on your lap, bending to your will, the life force of the plants it was formed from molding with you, becoming a part of you.

You felt so different than the person you had been before Darren entered the shop, so uncertain, and there was only one place you wanted to be when you felt like this… home. You couldn't wait to run up the worn front steps of your grandmother's house and into her arms. She always knew what to say in times like this.

And you desperately needed the comfort of her embrace.

The phone in your pocket buzzes again and you flip the screen to see the ridiculous selfie Annie and you had taken on Halloween last year. The one that you'd both spent dressed up as the two brothers from your favorite paranormal tv show. It wasn't the first time she'd called. Annie had called and texted you more times than you could count over the past twenty hours but you didn't answer her. You didn’t want to.

It was the first time that you didn't want to talk to her, but talking to her meant that you'd have to re-live all of it again and you were clawing at the last shred of sanity you had left to keep it together.

The overwhelming waves of emotion kept pummeling you, dragging you deeper beneath the white surf. Each one brought the memories of what happened surging over you and were followed by everything that Darren said to you. Years of taking care of Darren and doing whatever he wished were tearing at your soul, years of giving up little things in your life to make him happy, and years of taking care of a man who you thought cared about you, but hated you enough to kill your parents and try to kill you too.

It made your skin crawl. Each time your brother told you that he loved you was an even bigger lie and now that you knew the truth and saw him for what he was, it felt like you were drowning. The darkness that ebbed just on the edge was begging you to leap into the abyss, but you were resisting the best you could.

The tears had stopped falling miles ago, but you couldn't stop the memories or the emotion that formed a cold ball in the pit of your stomach.

A sigh works it's way up and you pull your legs on the seat underneath you, jostling the creature on your lap that raises it's head for a moment to blink it's black eyes at you sleepily.

It was surprisingly docile right now, especially considering that twenty hours ago it had ripped your brother to shreds. In fact it seemed to understand how upset you were and had spent the better part of the last twenty hours rubbing it's head against your arm as if trying to bring you some comfort. It was settled on your lap, the weight of it a comfort, almost like a weighted plushy that gave you something to focus on.

"It's alright buddy." You whisper, scratching him under his chin. "We're almost home."

The phone in your jacket pocket buzzes again, but when you pull it out to turn it off, you catch a glimpse of the screen, and you hesitate. Because this time it's not Annie who's calling, it’s Ben.

The picture that flashes on the screen under the contact name "Gramps" is the picture of Mr. Fredrickson from Up. It always made you smile whenever he called you and you saw the picture because Ben did often remind you of him. He was certainly just as grumpy as Mr. Fredrickson and just as out of touch, but you thought it was cute.

Your thumb hovers over the answer button and you think about talking to him.

But what would I say?

You weren't sure what to say to him, or why you wanted to speak to him so badly, why you wanted him to be sitting here on the bus with you as you went home, and why you wanted him to hold you against his chest while you allowed yourself to break, but you did. You wanted to feel his awkward shoulder pat and his awkward version of hand holding and you wanted to hear him try to tell you to "buck up" or whatever he thought that a comforting word should be.

He's really not the best at that.

You smile to yourself at the memory of how he tried to comfort you back at the hospital, but the longer you sit there and look down at the picture on the screen the worse you feel.

Maybe that scared you more than your newfound powers, how much you were realizing that you needed him, how much you depended on him when things got too much for you to bear. The memory of him appearing as soon as you needed him back at the shop, another of him grabbing Darren and throwing him into the street as soon as Darren insulted you comes in a flash, and finally followed by the memory of Ben carrying you out of Elijah's office while you curled into his chest. You couldn't remember too much from that moment, in fact you'd thought that Ben had kissed you on top of your head, but you ascribed that to the haze of pain you'd been in from your broken arm.

What you did remember was how wonderfully warm he was after you'd been trapped in that damn freezer and how nice it felt to be in his arms. Another memory of Ben sleeping on the couch at the hospital bubbles up and you feel something in your chest begin to crack open. And you try your best to tell yourself the same thing that you always do when you feel like Ben might care more about you that he was letting on.

Ben doesn't want that. He's made it perfectly clear. He doesn't want a relationship. He's only wants one night, that's why he goes out with all those women-

You hesitate, thumb still hovering over the answer button as you do, the memory of the week you'd spent at the apartment with him flickering in the back of your mind. The week where he refused to leave you alone in the apartment, where he refused to do any jobs for Butcher, where he took care of you the best way he could, when he sat with you on the couch and made you laugh with his ridiculous movies, and the week where he hadn't had one date.

Your finger itched to answer the phone, but you couldn't, because you didn't want to feel this way about Ben, not when he'd told you countless times that you kept romanticizing him, not when he told you that he didn't want a relationship, and not when you could feel yourself beginning to fall for someone you thought was the wrong man.

For just a moment you tried to pretend that it was different, that he was different, but you didn't want to. It only made it hurt more.

The phone stops ringing, but the pit in your stomach still gapes open at you and for the first time in twenty hours you feel tears begin to fall. You didn't know why you were crying about this, why the thought of not picking up Ben's phone call seemed to hurt more than everything that had happened, but something made it hurt.

The bus driver announces over the overhead that you're reaching your final destination as he takes the exit for your hometown. The familiar buildings that line the streets are sheathed in a honeyed glow from the sun, the long shadow of the bus darkening them momentarily as it rumbles down the small streets to the bus station.

When it rumbles to a stop at the bus station you wait for everyone else to get off, trying to summon the strength to stand, and swipe the back of your hand across your face to rid yourself of the remaining tears.

The bus station was about a thirty minute walk from your grandmother's house, and you still hadn't called her. You didn't know what to say, didn't know how to tell her that Darren was dead and that he was the reason why your parents were dead.

The creature crawls up your body to drape it's warm body over the back of your neck as you stand. It wasn't bothering to hide, besides the people in your hometown already thought that you were odd because you were a supe and you'd always welcomed it. You give him a scratch on top of his head and his warm tongue flicks on the bottom of your earlobe as if thanking you before it curls further into the side of your neck, seeking warmth.

The first few steps on solid ground are shaky, but you find the strength while taking in a deep cleansing breath of the outside world, letting the gentle warmth of the sun and the tickle of the autumn breeze pull at your coat. You hadn't stopped at your apartment before coming here, instead you had stumbled your way to the bus station covered in dust, flecked in blood, and demanded the first ticket back to Illinois. It was lucky that the next bus was leaving immediately, because you didn’t want to spend another second in NYC, not when all you wanted was to be home.

Plus you were worried that someone had recorded what exactly happened outside the plant shop and you didn't want to get arrested.

It was self defense anyway. Maybe Jake would represent me in court.

The thought of Jake makes you twinge. You hadn't checked to see if he was alright before you ran from the scene. Not to mention you'd destroyed the shop he'd put all his life savings into after he stopped being a lawyer.

Oh fuck, what if he sues me? He can't exactly sue Darren…

You hear someone call your name and you open your eyes.

Your grandmother is standing in front of the same baby blue pickup truck that she'd had longer than you've been alive, wearing a long multicolored skirt and a pressed white blouse tucked elegantly into it. Her silver hair is loose and long, curling over her shoulders in gentle waves. She looks the same way she looked one week ago when she left, and you've never seen anything so beautiful in your life.

You're running before you can stop yourself, crumbling into her warm embrace, with more tears streaking down your face, but she doesn't mind.

"Shh. It's alright honey." She whispers, rubbing her hand over your back, her embrace steady and surprisingly strong. "Let's go home."

Her home is the same as it's always been. A two story Victorian house painted in a happy yellow shade, with a white wrap around porch and two white rocking chairs sitting empty on the front porch. You'd spent more nights than you could count rocking silently beside her with a crochet project in your lap listening to the rain fall and soak the world outside, while the plants sang praises with every gentle bend beneath the heavy droplets.

You could barely remember the home you spent in your early years with your parents, not when you'd spent most of your childhood spending the night here and after your parents died living here permanently. There was still a large oak tree were a wooden swing swung in the slight breeze on the left side of the yard, a gardenia bush that stretched as high as the second story on the right side of the house and brushed it's soft leaves against the sunshine colored outer walls, a garden filled with both flowering plants and herbs that perked up on both sides of the front yard as you walked up the path, and a cobblestone path that Annie and you had spent hours of your shared childhood covering in chalk art.

Neither of you were good, but when the rain would fall and smudge the clean lines, you'd jump in the puddles that pooled along the walkway singing the lyrics to ABBA's "Cassandra" not quite understanding what it meant.

Standing here outside your house made you miss Annie and feel worse about not calling or texting her back, but you didn't feel like talking about what happened and you were sure that Butcher filled her in. The only thing that you wanted was to collapse in your bedroom upstairs and curl under the comforters.

Despite everything the house was a welcome sight, but at the same time it was different. You could feel the plants calling out to you, asking for you, bending towards you just to touch your shoes as you walked by. You'd never felt so connected with them before, not even when you were in your apartment or working at the shop.  It was overwhelming.

And although a part of you was frightened by it, another part of you rejoiced in it. You didn't feel alone, didn't feel weak, and you knew that you never would ever again.

The creature nuzzled into the side of your neck with a sigh, soaking up the sun's healing rays as you walked up the front steps with your grandmother following behind you silently. She hadn't spoken since she picked you up at the bus station and you hadn't supplied anything in the ten minute car ride back to her house.

You didn't know where to start and you were still trying to process everything yourself.

The inside of her house was just as cozy and warm as it was the day you moved out. There were photos of your parents and you covering the walls (Darren's had been placed in the closet long ago), half-finished knitting projects sorted in different baskets on both the dining room table and the living room coffee table, spools of yarn were strewn over the couch sorted by color, and the fresh smell of gardenia wafted through the open windows on the breeze.

It was home. This was what you'd been missing the moment everything began to crash over you, but as you stood there in the familiar living room it felt like something was missing. Something tugged at the back of your mind, but you couldn't put your finger on it.

There was something or rather someone that should be here, but you didn't know what or who. And your mind supplied Annie, but you weren't sure that's who you meant.

"Let's have some tea." Your grandmother says from behind you and you feel her soft hands come down on your shoulders to steer you through the familiar creative chaos and into the large kitchen at the back of the house.

The kitchen isn't spared from the madness, it rarely was. There are boxes upon boxes of cookies in different stages of being packaged all over the counter, dirty bowls and a measuring cup stacked in the sink, and a large opened bag of chocolate chips spilling over the flour covered kitchen island.

It wasn't unusual to find the kitchen or the house in a state of chaos, your grandmother always said that a house should look lived in and that the mess was part of the fun of any major project as long as you were responsible enough to clean it up.

"Bake sale?" You ask as you sit down in the breakfast nook, uttering the first words that you'd said to another human being in twenty hours.

The next breath that you inhale was supposed to be cleansing, but you can still feel a weight pressing down on your chest, the same one that settled in the moment everything happened with Darren.

You contemplate again how you're going to tell her that Darren is dead and was the reason why your parents died.

Damn it Darren.

"Mhmm." She hums, filling the well used red kettle. "Annie's mother practically cornered me in the supermarket yesterday and begged me to make cookies. I love Annie, but her mother needs someone to pull that stick out of her ass. It's been up there for so long that I'm sure it's rotten."

The creature crawls down from your shoulders and down your arm to sniff at one of the chocolate chip cookies nearest you. It hadn't eaten since…

Darren.

You wince slightly at the thought and hope that you hadn't created something that needed and craved human flesh. The last thing you wanted to unleash on the world was Audry two especially in the wake of Homelander.

Truthfully you were waiting for the guilt at killing your brother to come, but it never had and you wondered if it ever would.

Probably not. He deserved that, he killed our parents, he tried to kill me, he tried to kill Ben.

The thought of Ben again makes a lump form in the back of your throat. You didn't know what was happening to you only that you felt guilty for leaving him like that, for yelling at him to let you go, and just vanishing on him when he probably thought that you were going back to the apartment.

He doesn't know where I am. Maybe that's why he tried to call, because he got back to the apartment and couldn't find me there and he was worried. You press your lips together. Yeah. Worried. Right.

"Honey?" Your grandmother says in a soothing voice

You look up from the box of chocolate chip cookies that you didn't remember picking up. Even the creature is looking at you with an expression that you can only explain as worry.

"Yeah?" Your voice shakes slightly.

She's leaning back against the counter, arms crossed over her chest, head tilted slightly to the side, her beautiful grayed hair pulled up in an elegant bun, but in her eyes you can see genuine concern. "Fuck." She sighs after a minute.

You blink in surprise. It was the first time that you'd ever heard her say that word in your entire life.

"I shouldn't have left." She breathes. "I told Ben to look out for you. I told him, that little bastard was bound to show up again and what did he do? He left you at that plant shop alone with no protection!"

You'd only seen her really angry a handful of times in your lifetime. Like you, your grandmother often had a gentle disposition and didn't get angry unless the situation called for it.

I mean, Darren admitted to killing our parents and then got fucking ripped apart. But how does she know about any of that? I haven't told her…

"How did you know that he left me there? Did Ben call you?" You ask putting down the box of cookies.

An odd expression crosses her face, as if she's contemplating something. "No." She hesitates again. "I saw it."

"No." Your grandmother hesitates. "I saw it."

"You saw it?" You repeat, confused.

What's going on?

"Too late of course, but I'm a little rusty. I was able to warn Ben that Darren was coming back. That's how he got there so quickly or rather-" She shrugs sheepishly. "He got there in time to make sure that Darren didn't get you to forgive him. Which you shouldn't have at all, but I know he's always had a talent for manipulating you."

"What?"

Is she saying what I think she's saying?

Instead of explaining further your grandmother walks out of the kitchen, leaving the kettle behind on the stove and you in a state of utter confusion.

Is she saying that she can see the future? Because that would mean that she's a supe and there's only one supe in history that I know of that can do that. A supe that no one has seen in over forty years.

You can hear her open the door to the closet under the stairs and the sound of her sifting through all the junk that the two of you had shoved in there over the years instead of finding the right place to put it.

When she comes back into the kitchen, she's holding a giant cardboard file box that you'd never paid attention to each time you opened the closet to find something. Your eyes shift from the box to her still not comprehending exactly what she was saying.

"I probably should have told you this a while ago, but…" She trails off and nods her head at the box before turning back to the kettle on the stove that has begun to scream. "I kept putting it off."

The box is old, worn at the edges, and theres a musty black fabric beneath a collection of yellowed photographs. You pull out the one on top to examine it.

Ben is standing there in his full Soldier Boy regalia outside of Vought tower and the woman standing next to him is Soothsayer. The outfit she wore was familiar, a black-skin tight suit with a blind fold tied over her eyes.

Soothsayer was a supe who could see the future and who was apart of Payback, a supe that had vanished a year before the mission in Nicaragua and no one knew where she went. There were rumors that she'd died and that she'd been a Russian spy, but you'd never believed them. You'd heard Butcher talk about how he tried to find her when he was trying to figure out what happened to Soldier Boy, but he never had. Said that the trail went cold.

But now you knew where she went, because she was standing directly in front of you.

She's Soothsayer? Holy fuck that's why Ben kept accusing her of cheating in the poker game because he knew that she could see the future.

"You were Soothsayer?" You gasp. "But why didn't you say anything? Why didn't you tell me?"

She continues to measure the tea leaves. "I didn't tell anyone."

"Grandpa didn't know? But he was alive when you were a supe?"

Your grandfather had never spoken about a history with supes that you remember.

"No." She turns to look at you, a hurt expression crossing over her face for a minute. "Well, I know that I said I was going to have tea, but if we're going to talk about this I'm going to need something a little bit stronger."

Your grandmother opens a cabinet under the stove an pulls out an enormous bottle of scotch. Truth be told you'd never seen her drink more than just a glass of wine, to see her like this was about as shocking as seeing a polar bear sunning itself on a Florida beach.

"Do you still want the blueberry tea or do you need something a little stronger?" She looks back over her shoulder at you as she pulls down a glass for herself.

"I think I need something stronger." You answer honestly.

Learning about everything Darren had done was one thing, but finding out that your grandmother used to be a famous supe and that she never told you about it was another thing. It was like looking at another person. You'd always loved your grandmother's gentle way, her care for her community and her family soft, but now you weren't sure you really knew who she was.

She sits down across from you and hands you a glass of the amber colored liquid. There's a heavy silence that hangs between the two of you as she tries to find a way to start. The photo of her and Ben is laying on top of what you realize is her uniform inside the box and she smiles down at the photo, just a little twitch at the corner of her lips.

"I met Ben when I was twenty three years old." She begins taking a sip from the glass. "Legend 'discovered' me. I had the injection of Compound V maybe two years before that, not when I was born, but I hadn't gotten popular. Other powers were much more flashy and by then there were so many heroes coming out of the woodwork that someone with the ability to see the future didn't seem as marketable."

There's something reflected in her blue eyes, the same eyes your father had, that you can't place. "I had just moved to New York, I had no money, and the way I was getting it was by pretending to be a fortune teller and betting on some sports events on the side. It wasn't hard to prove that I could see the future, the past was more difficult, but Legend somehow stumbled into my shop and figured out that I was a supe. And he didn't think I was too bad looking so he helped me get big."

"You pretended to be a fortune teller?"

She snorts into her glass. "Mhmm. People really will believe anything if they're desperate enough and back then there was so much turmoil going on with Russia that people were scared and wanted to feel comforted. My job provided some of that."

"But why did you walk away from it if you were such a big hero." You ask. "Everyone knew your name, you were-"

Your grandmother raises an eyebrow at you and you fall silent so she can continue. "When I got onto Payback that's when everything exploded for me, the films, the commercials, the ridiculous ads." She sighs. "That's also when I met Ben."

You take a sip from the glass in front of you, sputtering slightly. It was stronger than you were expecting. "And you two were-"

Please don't say dating, please don't say dating, please don't say…

"Friends. Just friends." Diana sits back against the back of the breakfast nook, sinking into the navy blue pillows. "But he is almost as charming now as he was then."

You cringe at the thought of Ben coming on to a younger version of your grandmother.

She taps her glass with her index finger deep in thought. "But I think that I was the only person that Ben actually talked to, the only person that he was comfortable being around."

"What do you mean?" You ask confused. "Didn't he talk to Countess and to Legend?"

Her expression hardens at the mention of Countess's name. "He didn't talk to her the way he talked to me. Ben is difficult, he always has been and I think that most of the people he meet him write him off as this asshole with a chauvinistic look on the world, but he's not. At least, not all the time. There are so many people that he's met that are never willing to take a chance on him. To trust that there is really something beneath all of that bravado."

It was what you had been thinking for the past week, that there was more to Ben than he was willing to let people see, but you were slowly realizing that Ben was letting you see those parts. In the quiet moments at your shared apartment when he sat with you while you read or made you laugh or walked you to and from work you saw another side of Ben that you never saw when he was around anyone else. The guilt rises again when you think of how you ran from him, how you turned your back and left him standing there to clean up your mess.

I shouldn’t have done that, but it was all just so overwhelming and I didn't want to talk to anyone.

"I think that Ben is the most loyal friend I ever had. No one ever seems to believe me when I say that. That we were just friends, but nothing happened between us."

"You didn't date? Or sleep together?" You ask cautiously. It was difficult to imagine Ben being friends with a woman and not having a sexual relationship with her.

Well. We're friends, but that's different.

The last thing you wanted to think about was Ben and your grandmother having sex.

I would need so much therapy after that. You sigh. Yeah, because after all the shit I've been through and found out about my life in the last twenty hours, the knowledge that Ben fucked my grandmother is what's going to push me over the edge.

"No." She shakes her head with a small smile. "About a week after I met Ben, I was running late to a movie shoot and I stepped off the crosswalk without looking. There was a car coming and I didn't see it. Ironic isn't it?" She laughs at herself. "I can see the future and I didn't see a car coming, but your grandfather did and he grabbed the back of my jacket and yanked me onto the sidewalk, saved my life. And the second my eyes locked with his I saw our future. I saw our wedding, our first house, I saw our son take his first steps and I saw how much I would love him and how much he would love me." She clears her throat for a minute, her fingers tighten on the glass, and her gaze drops to the wedding ring on her left hand. “The future is never set in stone, it’s fluid. It morphs and shapes with your decisions, but in the future I saw, I was so happy. And I didn’t want to lose that.”

Your grandfather had passed a few years ago, but you knew it weighed on her everyday. She had spent the week after he died in her room not saying anything to anyone. And sometimes she'd look out the window into the backyard with an odd expression, but you knew that meant she was thinking of him.

Growing up you'd seen how in love the two of them were, more so than your parents. Seen the flowers your grandfather always brought home just because he was thinking of her, watched him do little things around the house without being asked, saw how they never walked away angry from one another, and seen the soppy expression he'd get when he watched your grandmother move around the kitchen baking with a grace that you'd never possessed.

You reach across the table to touch her hand and she takes it gratefully.

"I didn't want to tell him that I was a supe, and at the beginning I thought I could balance it all, but then Ben started dating Countess." She takes another sip from her glass. "She hated me."

"What? Why?" You ask. The creature crawls across the table to sniff at the glass in front of you, before it snorts and falls into your lap, curling into a ball.

"Countess was a bitch." Your grandmother says mirthlessly, her expression hardening. "She wanted to possess Ben completely. Only loved how famous he was, how popular it made her, and he threw himself at her feet, in his own way, not understanding that love didn’t look that way. He’s never had a good example of it in his life. And she never understood that Ben and I were just friends. By then I had been dating your grandfather for a few months and things were getting serious. It was about a year before everything that happened in Nicaragua."

She presses her lips together as if remembering what happened to Ben there. "She was jealous, possessive, and she came to me one night. Ben was out of town for a film so she knew we wouldn’t be interrupted. She threatened to tell your grandfather who I really was and threatened to kill him.” Her jaw sets. “My powers were never really as offensive as hers were. And she said that Ben wouldn’t ever protect me over her because he loved her and would do anything to make her happy. So I left and I never looked back.”

And here I thought I couldn't hate Countess any more than I did for what she did to Ben.

“You didn’t talk to him ever again?” You wonder out loud.

She left without telling him goodbye?

“There was the occasional phone call. Sometimes Ben would ask me to see who was going to win a ball game or something so he could make a few bucks. He stopped by to say hi a few times because he was in the neighborhood. One time he brought your father a baseball glove that was way too big for a one year old.” She snorts, the memory flashing in her eyes. “I always thought Ben would be a good dad some day. But I think seeing your father was when Ben realized how much he wanted to have kids. And I think seeing the way your grandfather treated me made him start to feel conflicted about Countess. But he respected that I walked away, he saw that I was happy.”

“But what about Nicaragua?"

A dark look crosses her face followed by something that looks suspiciously like guilt. “I saw what they were going to do to him.”

“What? But why didn't you tell him what they were planning? Why didn't you-"

"I tried." She snaps, shoulders tense, but then they drop. "I called Ben, but Stan answered. By then your father was turning two, your grandfather had opened up his practice, and Stan threatened me, he knew where we were and knew everything about us. So I kept my mouth shut and I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”

You could feel your heart breaking for her.

Ben was her best friend and she had to sit by and watch them do that to him. She saw what they were going to do and they were going to kill her for it, kill my family for it.

The anger that surges in your chest makes the creature in your lap stir and grow a few inches, but you tamp it down before it gets bigger than a small dog.

“Does Ben know?” You ask her to distract yourself.

You didn't want Ben to hate your grandmother for this, didn't want him to hate her for something that wasn't her fault.

She nods. “Yes. I told him everything.”

“When?”

“The moment I saw him in your hospital room. I couldn’t keep it in any longer. I wasn't expecting him to be there, but it all poured out of me. I was so surprised to see him there. I hadn't seen a future where he came back."

“Was he mad?”

I mean… he didn't seem mad when I woke up, not to mention he was upset when she left to come back to Illinois.

“Not at me.” She shakes her head. “He knew how much I wanted a normal life and how much I loved your grandfather. He doesn’t blame me for any of it.”

“Good. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

The glass in front of you is still more than half-full but you don't want to risk another sip of what you're sure is gasoline packaged to look like Scotch. Your grandmother reaches to pour herself another glass.

“I didn’t want to until you were ready.”

“And when would that be?”

Your grandmother shrugs. “Maybe on my deathbed.”

You weren't angry for her not telling you, more surprised, but now that you knew everything about her it was hard to see her the same way you had.

 You snort. “And no one knew?”

“Your dad figured it out.”

“How? When?”

“The moment you made that strawberry plant grow from your high chair.” She shakes her head with a smile. “It skipped a generation. Don’t know why, but you got it all somehow.”

“I was never injected?”

“No. That was a lie your father created. He knew that your grandfather didn't know and he knew that I didn't want your grandfather to know."

“Darren thought I was.”

“I know.”

At the mention of your brother's name, you watch her expression harden and she takes another swig from the glass in front of her, not flinching as the liquid goes down her throat.

“Did you see everything that happened?” You ask in a small voice.

You still weren't 100% sure how it was her powers worked, but you figured that she was able to see some of what Darren did and what he said.

“Yes.”

“You heard everything Darren said?"

“Yes.”

You chew the inside of your cheek for a minute hoping that she didn't take it as hard as you did. “Did you know that he killed them?”

“No.” She breathes, rolling the glass between her hands for a moment. “The night they died, I got a vision a few minutes before the car ran off the road. I was the one who called the police and who told them where to look, but I never saw that it was Darren or that it was anyone causing the accident. All I saw was the three of you in the car. I should have known.” Her voice breaks.

“It’s not your fault.” You squeeze her hand.

“And it’s not yours either.” She squeezes your hand back.

The memories are beginning to float up from the recesses of your mind and your teeth clench together as you try to keep them at bay.

“I know.” You breathe. The memory of the ruined shop flashes through your head. “I didn’t know that I could do something like that.” You gently touch your healed right arm and glance at the creature that is nibbling on the edge of the cardboard box with its sharp splinter-like teeth. “I feel so different and I don’t know how to go back to the way I was.”

“I don’t think you ever will.”

"Really?"

The thought was unwelcome. You were hoping that all of this was going to blow over, but you knew it wouldn't. Your powers had changed. There was an energy that thrummed in your veins now, stretching out of the house to the plants that grew in the garden. You could feel them all if you concentrated.

She frowns. “When you told me that you were working for Butcher I was worried about you getting involved in the supe world. I didn’t want that life for you, didn’t want you to suffer the way I did-“

“Was it really that bad?"

“Not all the time, just at the end. But I think that’s why I loved your grandfather so much. Because he was different than all the supes. He was down to earth, not just normal but-“ She shrugs. “I think Compound V does something to our minds, makes them more susceptible and when you’re surrounded by people using their powers and thinking that they’re gods it’s easy to lose who you are. I was glad I left when I did."

“Great." You huff, thinking about how your powers had grown exponentially since you killed your brother. It was scaring you to think that you would reach a point where you acted like Homelander, where you saw yourself as a god and killed anyone who stood in your way.

As tired as the stereotype of you only being able to make the flowers grow, you liked doing that. You liked healing plants, tending to them, and helping them grow. For you it had never been about using your powers the way that you had to kill Elijah and your brother and had always been about spreading a little more joy and love like your grandmother did with her kindness in her community.

Your mind flashes back to the first night that Ben stayed with you in your apartment and he'd asked you why you worked for Butcher and told you that he thought you "didn't fit."

Before you hadn't. You knew that. You weren't intimidating to look at or fueled by revenge or had a bone to pick with supes. You'd joined because you thought it was the right thing to do and because you wanted to be closer with Annie. She had been so involved in the supe world and you'd felt like you were losing your best friend. When in reality being at "Please Don't Die" was the only thing that felt natural for you.

You could feel yourself changing and you weren't sure that you wanted to and you weren't sure if you were changing for the better. Deep down you still felt like you, despite everything Darren had revealed, but your powers were greater than you'd thought they could be.

“No.” She squeezes your hand pulling you out of your head. “I don’t see you losing yourself in this.”

“You’ve seen-“ Your eyes widen.

“The future yeah.” Her lips twitch up at the ends in a smile. “It is what I do.”

“That’s so weird.”

You hadn't meant to say it, but you really didn't want to know too much about your future.

Well, not all that much. Maybe just a little.

“You of all people have no right to judge what’s weird. Not with Godzilla sitting in your lap.”

"Godzilla" yawns, flashing a mouthful of his pointy teeth, before settling back down on your thighs.

You smile for the first time in twenty hours, but then it drops. “I don’t like losing control. I thought I knew who I was but now I don’t-“ The emotions were bubbling up again, chest tightening, and lungs beginning to gasp for air. “I don’t know who I am anymore or what I am or what I can do and-“

“There’s nothing wrong with not being in control.”

“But what if I hurt someone? What if I kill-“ You body shakes as you think about all the important people in your life, Annie, Hughie, Butcher, Kimiko, MM, Frenchie- and then your mind stutters on Ben.

“Your powers are growing and there’s nothing to be afraid of or ashamed of. If you’re afraid of them it won’t get easier for you. You have to embrace the fear to see the lights that line the path through it.”

"I killed Darren, I killed Elijah-"

"Not because you lost control. You did it because you were protecting yourself and protecting your friends."

"But-"

"Who is it that you're scared of hurting? Annie?" Her expression turns sympathetic. "Annie is a supe and understands what it's like to lose control. None of us are in control all the time and it's ridiculous to believe that you won't lose control at least once."

Your throat clenches tightly, because when she asked the question you didn't see Annie's face, you saw Ben's. You knew that it was probably ridiculous to worry about hurting a guy with a nuclear reactor stuffed in his chest or a guy who'd been through every torture known to man, but you were. And you weren't entirely sure if you meant hurting him with just your powers.

Tears crest and fall down your cheeks as you sit there, throat thickening. "I don't want to hurt Ben."

"He's a little more indestructible than us sweetie." She cracks a smile, but you can't smile back and you don't answer because you're unsure how to.

She sits back against the breakfast nook and sighs, examining your face and slowly realizes what you mean. "Ben is complicated. He always has been. I like to think that most of it, is his father's fault. Has he told you anything about him?"

You shake your head.

"He was a dick. Made Ben think that he was a disappointment his whole life. I don't think that Ben has had someone love him unconditionally since his mother died. And loving Countess only made it worse for him. Her love was jealous, possessive, and I don't think that he's really come to terms with what real love should look like." She lets out a breath, tapping her index finger against the glass. "I never saw him as more than a friend, but I do love him. It's not a crime to love him."

"I don't love him." You say it immediately.

"Why not?"

"What?" You sputter. "I don't know what you're-"

"Tell me why you don't love him." Your grandma says methodically, as if she's trying to talk you through it.

"Because I-" The pressure was back in the back of your throat and you couldn't quite meet her eye. "Because-" You scramble for the answer, trying your darndest to keep your heart from clenching in your chest. "I want what you and grandpa had, what Annie and Hughie have, and what my parents had. A strong relationship with someone who sees all my flaws, the little parts, and the darkness and still choses to fall in love with me anyway. I don't want just one night I want every night. I want something real and Ben has said countless times that he-"

"So you've talked about it with Ben?" She raises an eyebrow.

"Only because he kept trying to sleep with me and I told him that I didn't want to have sex with him." You reply exasperated.

"You don't?"

"Gran!"

"What? He's attractive."

"It doesn't matter. None of it does. Because Ben has said that he doesn't have relationships, that he doesn't care about feelings, or emotions." Saying the words that Ben had told you countless times made something inside begin to shrivel up and die. "And I do. And I don't want to manipulate him into being something he's not or force him into a relationship that's doomed from the beginning. Ben is Ben. He's not changing or-"

"He has." She interrupts.

"What?"

"The Ben I saw in your hospital room is not the one I knew." She says it so matter of fact that makes it hard to breathe. "And neither was the one that I saw in your apartment when I stayed with you. I mean he is in essence Ben, but-"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"He is changing. Not completely, but he's acting differently than when he was with Countess. I mean, I saw all the things he did for her. The way he was around her."

"Why does that matter?"

"Because he loved her."

The words make your heart seize in your chest. "Ben doesn't love me. He's my roommate and my friend-" It was the same thing that you kept telling yourself on repeat to beat back the other feelings that you hadn't quite identified yet. "And he's told me that he doesn't want a relationship and that I should try to meet other people."

That last part was a lie, but you honestly didn't know where she was going with this conversation or why it was getting so hard to breathe.

"Have you thought that maybe Ben doesn't want to love you because he's scared?"

"He doesn't love me and Ben isn't afraid of anything."

"He is. It might not look the same way on him as it does on everyone else, but if you pay close enough attention you can catch it." She hesitates. "And I think if you pay attention to you, you'll see what it is that you're afraid of too."

What does she mean? What the hell am I afraid of? Ben isn't afraid of anything, he's practically shouted that from the mountaintops like Julie Andrews.

"I already told you what I'm afraid of."

"I'm not talking about you hurting someone honey. There's something else that you refuse to admit to yourself because you're scared." She smiles sadly at you. "You should though, because when you embrace it, what comes after is really beautiful." There's a far off look in her eyes and you realize that she'd seen something further ahead that she wasn't letting on.

"And it's all I want for you. To be happy." Your grandmother stands from the other side of the booth "I think you need some rest. You drove all night long and I doubt you got any sleep. And I have to package all of these before Annie's mother calls down the four horsemen of the Apocalypse on me."

"Wait-"

"Please sweetie." She lays her hand down on your arm. "I think you'll feel a little better about all of this when you've had some rest." Her fingers raise to push back some of the hair that's fallen forward into your eyes. "Hmm?"

You didn't want to rest, you wanted to talk about this, but you knew better than to argue with her. Not to mention she was right, you hadn't slept.

"And when you wake up I'll make your favorite for dinner, alright?" She smiles, but there's something behind it that you can't place.

"Okay."

And this time you don't argue with her. You go up the worn staircase that you have your entire life and collapse onto your bed, wondering exactly what it was she saw your future hold, and what it is that you won't admit to yourself.

Soldier Boy POV

There was no light in the apartment save from the burning red tip of Ben's blunt and the bluish glow emanating from the tv that caught the dips and sharp edges of his face. But it was nothing more than background noise.

His hand absentmindedly stroked along Bean's back, his eyes focused on the ceiling above the couch. He hadn't moved in hours. It had been over twenty four hours since everything that happened at the plant shop, since you'd summoned a creature from the depths of the store, since Darren had thrown Ben through the plate glass windows of the bakery, and since Ben had last seen you.

He didn't understand why you hadn't let him take you back to the apartment and why it was that you had to leave. Ben hadn't liked the feeling that stabbed him in the chest when you turned your back on him and ran away. He'd felt the urge to comfort you the way he'd watched Hughie do for Annie in the car a week ago, but you hadn't let him.

Instead all he'd done is stood there and watched you run, still covered in dust, rubble, and blood. Worse was you hadn't let him check you for injuries and Ben hated the thought that you were hurt somewhere and he didn't know where you were.

You were so much more fragile than he was. He was realizing that more every day, was acutely aware of it after everything that happened with Elijah. Honestly, sitting there in the hospital with you laying there asleep with nothing that he could do, but wait for you to wake up had been agony. Not to mention that looking at the bruises around your throat, over your eye, and the bright green cast only made him feel worse. He'd never felt so helpless in his entire life and he hated it. Because Ben wasn't some helpless damsel in distress, he was a man and a man shouldn't wait on anyone or feel out of control, or at least, that's what he told himself.

Ben hears someone walk down the hallway outside the apartment and he perks up to listen, hoping that it's you finally coming home. Ben's mind stutters on the word "home." He'd lived many places in his life, apartments that felt more like way-stations, and the drafty cold mansion back in Philadelphia where he grew up, but neither felt like home. And although he hated how small your apartment was, it was the first place that Ben liked living in. He was starting to understand the word home.

But the feet keep moving past the apartment and Ben sinks into the couch cushions. Even Bean seems to be disappointed. "It's alright buddy." Ben mutters. "She'll come back."

But he wasn't sure.

Ben also wasn't used to feeling this way. It was close to the way that he felt when he went to Boston and was sitting in that damn hotel room waiting for something to happen and he still didn't understand what it meant. He didn't understand why he couldn't stand it that you weren't back yet. It made him feel like a woman waiting for her husband to get home from work when he told her that he was "running late." He'd tried to distract himself by looking at some possible prospects on Tinder, but just like the week after you'd come home from the hospital and just like the date he had in Boston, no one held any appeal.

His mind was awake and roaming around, pacing back and forth. The blunt was supposed to help, but it hadn't.

His phone chirps and Ben picks it up to look at the screen, but it's not you, it's Jake.

Jake: I know that I'm not your favorite person, but thank you for what you did.

Ben huffs and turns his phone face down on the couch once more. "What a fucking pussy."

When you left Ben had realized that Jake was still inside the building and as much as he wanted race after you, he understood that you'd be even more upset if you'd killed Jake. So Ben had tromped back through the building and found him trapped beneath some rubble. Jake was okay, just unconscious, but Ben had carried him out and put him on the sidewalk before he high tailed it out of there. The last thing that he wanted was to be caught with a shredded body outside a ruined building.

I didn't do it for him. I did it for her. Ben thinks to himself, looking down at the text message.

As much as he hated the thought of saving your future boyfriend, he didn't want to see what it did to you if you found out that you killed Jake, so he'd done it to avoid watching you cry again.

Ben didn't understand why he hated watching you cry.

Women cry. They're damn emotional all the time. He tries to reason with himself taking a puff from the blunt pinched between his thumb and forefinger. And she fucking cries way too much.

The image of you crying outside of the shop in the wake of everything that happened pricks something under his ribcage. Fuck.

Ben didn't feel remorse for what happened, well, the only thing he regretted was not getting there sooner and getting to fuck Darren up himself. When Diana had called him to tell him that Darren was coming, Ben had practically ripped the apartment door off in his haste to get back to you. He hadn’t wanted to leave you at the plant shop, but Butcher had told Ben, that he had a possible location for Darren, but it came up empty and Ben had been at Butcher's apartment chewing him out for sending him on a fucking wild goose chase.

It only made Ben more angry to allow Darren to speak to you, but he was trying to let you handle it even though he wanted to handle him. But it had brought him an unholy amount of joy to throw Darren in front of that minivan and to watch that creature tear him apart while the final whitish blue pulses of electricity jumped and crackled down the street making the streetlights shower sparks everywhere.

But Ben was more upset that Darren had been able to land a few hits on you before you killed him.

Ben remembered the giant lizard that crawled out of what was left of "Please Don't Die" and felt his lips quirk up into a smile. As much as he hated the entire situation, Ben couldn't help but feel a little surge of pride at what you'd done to your brother. He'd never seen you look so powerful standing there in the street, your eyes glowing a brilliant green, arms outstretched, and the ground trembling around you as the world begged to be unleashed.

Of course he'd been just as surprised as you were at the fact that you'd healed your broken arm. He wasn't sure if you'd noticed it yet, but you looked different too. There weren't as many lines on your face and your hair was more springy, the few silver hairs that Ben had noticed in passing were no longer there.

He wasn't sure what that meant, but there was something that felt suspiciously like hope tingling in his stomach, hope that you weren't as fragile anymore and hope that it meant you wouldn't die.

When Diana had told Ben that her husband had died, he saw the pain in her eyes when she said it, saw her relieving the memory, and for some reason as soon as she said that he was dead, the first thing Ben thought about was you. Ben hadn't considered his inability to age as much in the past, hadn't cared about outliving anyone before. Seeing Countess as an older woman had made him more aware of it. Looking at the woman who he once thought he loved, had showed him what that was like. Not that he had a problem with daring older women, Ben always thought that women really did get better with age, but it was what came next that Ben wasn't fond of.

And for some reason thinking that one day he'd wake up and see the marks of age on your face or one day he'd wake up and he wouldn't be able to annoy you or hear you yell at him made his chest tight.

Ben takes another hit of his blunt. The longer he sat there the more then unnatural feeling stirred in the pit of his stomach, thrumming through his veins, the feeling that he was trying to avoid. He thought that the joint would calm him down, but he found himself jumping at every creak and footstep in the apartment building, perking up each time and hoping that it was you coming home.

He didn't know where you were. You hadn't answered any of his texts or calls and Ben was ashamed at how many times that he had tried to call you.

Get a fucking grip. He'd thought to himself when he typed out another text message to send you, stopping himself from sending it.

But he'd been so desperate to hear from you that he'd actually gone to talk to Annie who seemed upset that she couldn't get ahold of you either. When Hughie and Annie had seen how upset Ben had been, Hughie had laid his hand on Ben's arm and told him not to worry. Ben had yelled at him that he "wasn't fucking worried and to mind his own business" and had shaken off Hughie's comforting hand before stomping out of the shared apartment.

No one else seemed to be as concerned about finding you. Butcher, MM, and Frenchie were all deeply involved in trying to figure out the cover-up for what happened outside the plant shop. By some miracle no one had caught a picture of your face, but there was little they could do about Darren's body that had been strewn across the street. Annie was having to deal with the repercussions at work, trying to handle what the news was calling a "super villain threat."

Personally, Ben thought that since they froze Homelander, the Seven looked weak and Ben believed that the superhero team that represented America shouldn't look weak. Of course before Ben had also thought that they looked like a bunch of pussies and again felt himself sink deeper into the couch when he thought about what his supposed son had become.

He shakes off the feelings he has about it and his thoughts turn back inevitably to you.

Ben wasn't used to thinking about someone as much as he thought of you, but each time he settled back into the apartment and you weren't there he was hyperaware of how quiet it was.

Maybe I should call Diana. She might know where she is.

As soon as Ben thinks that, his phone begins to ring, but Ben doesn't bother to look at who it is before he answers it. 

"Hello?" Ben huffs out a breath of smoke that hangs in the air in front of his face, catching in the bluish light coming from the television.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" The voice on the other side of the line yells at him.

"Di?"

"Yes it's me. Who did you think it was? Santa Clause?" Your grandmother snarks.

"Why are you calling me and why the fuck are you so mad? What did I do?" Ben answers slightly annoyed.

As much as you got under his skin, your grandmother had been the same way. He actually thought that it was amusing that even before he figured out that she was your grandmother that he had often compared you to her in his mind. You had the same mannerisms, the same defiant and stubborn attitude that drove Ben up the wall, and you were just as beautiful as she was.

Ben was okay with admitting that he was attracted to you. To him that felt normal, it was the other feelings that he was conflicted about, the ones that he'd never felt before stirring in his chest that made him feel "too emotional" and "woman-like."

Truthfully, Ben was sure that if your grandmother had given him a shot that maybe he would have felt that way about her too. She was the only person that Ben actually trusted in the 80's, the only person that was brave enough to call him out on all his shit. You did that now. But he liked her husband also, so Ben was content with letting her go. He liked how happy that Henry, your grandfather, had made her. He knew that she wasn't happy as a supe and seeing her so happy and in love made Ben feel something that was close to happiness.

And it was seeing the way the two of them were together made Ben wonder if what he had with Countess was the same thing. Because he did have feelings about her that were different, but each time he went to visit Diana and saw your father playing on her lap he felt that there was something missing in his life.

It was the same way that he thought something was missing when you weren't in the apartment, but Ben hadn't realized that yet.

"Because I don't understand what the hell you're doing!" Diana replies and Ben honestly doesn't know why she's angry with him.

"About what?"

"My granddaughter."

Ben sits up the blunt in his fingertips forgotten. "Is she there with you?"

"Yes." Her voice softens for a moment.

Ben relaxes and leans back onto the couch, sighing in relief. "Good.  That's good." Relief swelled in his chest when he thought about you staying with her, safe.

That's what she meant when she said that she wanted to go home. Home is with her grandmother. Ben stopped the next thought before he could go there.

The thought that home wasn't with him.

Ben was trying not to think about that or think about you hating him. He didn't think you did, well, didn't think you did anymore. At first it really was touch and go, but now he was almost eighty percent sure after you'd told him more than once that you weren't afraid of him and didn’t hate him that you sometimes wanted him around.

"No, not good."

"What do you mean? Is she okay?" Ben's grip on the phone tightens so hard that he's sure that he hears the screen cracking.

"No."

"What happened?" Ben's voice is a growl, the feelings of relief evaporating as soon as they had begun to bloom in his chest. He mentally calculated how long it would take him to get to you.

"Her entire life fucking fell apart and where are you? Not here!"

Oh. Ben relaxed a little bit.

"I don't need to be there." He says on an exhale of smoke.

"Yes you do!" Diana presses.

"No, I don't. She a big girl she doesn't need me there, she's-" Ben takes a puff from the joint.

“If you were any denser you’d be a Bundt cake Benjamin!” She says exasperated.

"What the fuck are you talking about doll? I am not-"

“Let me guess." She interrupts and Ben can imagine her tapping her foot. He hated when she did that. "You’re moping around smoking a blunt on the couch probably with a glass of something that you're hoping to numb whatever the hell it is you're feeling."

Ben's eyes shift to the bottle of whiskey on the coffee table that he hadn't touched in a few minutes.

“I’m not fucking moping and stop spying on me!” He snaps back at Diana.

He hated how well she knew him. She was his best friend in the 80's through all the shit, she had seen him at his worst and at his best too many times to count.

“I don’t have to use my powers to know what you’re doing. I know you Ben.”

"Sorry to disappoint you sweetheart.” Ben grits his teeth, temper flaring hot. “But if you know me as well as you fucking say you do then you then you know that this is-“

“You avoiding your feelings by acting aloof and brooding like a fucked up version of Mr. Darcy.” She interrupts.

She certainly hasn't changed.

“I am not avoiding-“

“She needs you here Ben.” Diana stamps her foot, the same way you do when Ben pisses you off, and Ben can hear it.

“She doesn’t need me! She said that she wanted to go home, that she didn’t want to be here with me! I tried to-“ Ben shouts back standing up. It was the exact thing that he'd been thinking for the past twenty four hours, that you didn’t need him and that you didn't want to be any where near him.

That last thought made an uncomfortable sensation prickle in his gut when he thought it, because all it did was remind him of how you acted when the two of you first met, when you didn't want him to live with you and tried your darndest to make him go away.

He didn’t want to and he wasn't sure why that was.

“Try harder.” Diana interrupts him again and frankly it was pissing him off.

Ben clenches his jaw. “I think that you’ve confused me with someone else baby.”

“Don’t you 'baby' me Benjamin! We both know that you’re doing what you always do when things get hard for you.”

“And what’s that?”

“You pretend not to care and shut out everyone who tries to care for you. Not to mention you drown yourself in drugs, booze, and women.”

“She doesn’t care about me!” He spits.

“She does!” Diana snaps back. “And believe it or not she needs you here and she wants you here.”

"But-"

"Ben please." It was the first time that he'd heard Diana sound softer and almost pleading since the conversation started. "Don't do this to her. She's worth more than Countess and all those other women you've fallen into bed with."

"Do you really think I don't know that?" He roars. The answer surprises himself. "Do you think I don't know that she's different?"

Wait what?

"If you know that, then why aren't you here?"

He hesitates.

Everything you said to him the night of the party comes roaring back. You looking beautiful in a dress that made his throat tight, and you telling him that you just wanted to be friends and that you understood that he wasn't the type of guy to have relationships. He didn't understand why it stung a bit when you said that, but it had.

Ben thinks about the week that the two of you spent together after Diana went home, when he tried his best to take care of you, distract you from everything that happened with his movies, and would sit with you and try to make you laugh. He'd never wanted to take care of someone before.

Not to mention he kind of liked the way you laughed. He wouldn’t admit that to anyone, but each time you did, it made him want to laugh too. That had never happened to him before. But he wanted to make you laugh to forget everything that happened with Elijah. His fist clenches when he thinks of exactly what Elijah tried to do to you and it makes him feel so mad that he feels close to spontaneously combusting. Ben might not be the best role model when it came to women, but he couldn’t imagine the type of man who would force himself on someone else.

It had made him angry when he thought that you were suggesting that he would try something when he first moved in, because he wasn't that type of man.

Ben was trying to be better for you. He wasn't admitting that, but he really was trying to be better. He didn't understand why. You'd told him countless times that you didn’t want to be with him, that you wanted to be with someone else like Jake.

Ben frowns when he thinks about the man he'd pulled from the rubble of the shop. And again thinks to himself that you should be with someone different, someone who was a supe and could understand you. Ben had seen how difficult it was for Diana when she was keeping her supe life a secret from your grandfather and he didn't want you to have to do that with someone.

"Because I'm not-" Ben begins to say, but he holds his tongue. It was too honest, too raw, too unlike him to admit this to anyone.

Because I'm not this guy. Because I'm not the one she wants. Because I'm not some knight on a white horse. Because she's everything right with the world and I'm just a fucking asshole who sleeps on her couch.

"Ben." Diana breathes and he can practically hear her pinching the bridge of her nose. "In all the years I've known you, you've never done what you did for her with anyone else. You carried her out of that warehouse, you stayed with her in the hospital even after she woke up, you took care of her when she came home, you protected her from Darren. You can't ignore all those things."

"I'm not ignoring them. She's my friend." The word sours in his mouth as he says it. "And she would have done the same thing for me." He knew it was true.

She's a good person and she wouldn't let me chase her away if any of that shit happened to me and I told her to leave me alone.

"Yes she would. Because she cares about you." Diana sighs.

"She doesn't."

"Why don't you believe me?"

"Because she's told me what she wants!" Ben shouts so loudly he can feel the room shaking. "She wants to be friends-“

"Because she doesn't think that you want a relationship you nitwit!"

"I don't." Ben spits the words before he can stop them, but as he does something tightens at the base of his throat.

"How is it that it's been forty fucking years and you're still able to dance on the grave of my last nerve?"

Ben chuckles. "I missed you too sweetheart."

She sighs into the phone again making it crackle in Ben's ear. "She needs you.” Diana repeats. “And I think you need her too.”

His temper was flaring again, the thoughts that his father pressed into him surging up before he can stop the words. “I don’t need anyone. I’m Sol-“

“If you say that you’re Soldier Boy, I’m going to reach through this phone and slap you silly.” She snaps. “And you do need her, but you’re still just too stubborn to admit it.”

“I-“

“Ben I know that everything that happened with Countess was fucked up, but my granddaughter she-“ Diana pauses before she changes the thought.  “You say that you know she’s different, but right now you’re treating her the same way you treat all those other women.”

“I’m not-“

“My granddaughter has decided you’re important to her and once that’s happened it’s hard to make her let go. You saw the way she was with Darren and that guy was a manipulative asshole. Imagine what she thinks of you.”

“I-“

“Stop making excuses!”

“You didn’t even hear what I was going to say!” Ben shouts.

“And I don’t need to! Think what you want Ben but if you’d stop acting so stubborn and so ridiculously blind to what’s right in front of you. I promise that what comes next is worth the risk.”

“Don’t go all fucking mystical on me doll.”

“And don’t go all macho- no feelings asshole on me! So stop being so damn stubborn, get on a plane and get your ass here.” She retorts. “Don’t fuck this up Benjamin because if you do I’ll fuck you up.”

The line goes dead.

Ben sat there for a minute in the silence still holding the phone up to his ear, listening to what your grandmother said to him ring around in his head for a second.

No one ever spoke to him that way. In fact, Ben had never allowed anyone to speak to him the way that she did, well, not until you came along. You reminded him so much of her that it was astounding and he wasn't going to admit that maybe it's why he liked being around you so much.

Ben frowns at what Diana said, thinking about the unusual feelings that were swirling in the pit of his stomach. He felt wrong and the feelings were odd for him. He hadn't felt anything remotely like this ever in his life, not even for Countess.

And although Ben refused to be afraid of anything, the feelings he was having scared him. He didn’t understand and he wasn't sure that he wanted to. He wasn't sure that he wanted to see where this ended up. He felt like he was in too deep.

As much as he wanted to go to you like Diana ordered him to, he wasn't sure that he should. Something was holding him back, digging it's heels in and refusing to budge.

But why do I feel like-

His phone rings and he doesn't look at the caller ID when he picks up, expecting it to be Diana again, yelling at him.

"Di I-"

But it's not Diana.

"Hello Ben. It's nice to hear your voice again." The familiar voice says, sounding calm and collected.

"What the fuck do you want?" Ben snarls.

 "I thought it was time the two of us had a chat.”

A/N: At this point Diana is really just trying to give both Ben and the reader the kick in the pants they need. And yes I know another cliffhanger, but you know you love it. 🤭😉 We are quickly reaching the end of this series, but that means the confession scene is coming and I am so excited about it!!

As always thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, likes, and comments are not required, but are always appreciated. I love hearing what y'all think! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series let me know. 😊

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[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

Hii i love love love your desi reader fics!! It would be really nice if you could write an Oscar Piastri x desi!reader fic maybe reader is a fan of Oscar and meets him accidentally? and they kinda hit up immediately? like a strangers to lovers fic <333

crashing and clicks ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ op x desi!reader ¸.♡.¸

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ fluff ¸.♡.¸

masterlist ☾☼

travelling to an expensive country like monaco, and watching the monaco grand prix had always been a dream of yours. your sole motivator for years of working had been to earn enough money to spend a proper one week vacation in monaco, including paddock passes for your favourite team, mclaren, and a chance to meet your favourite driver, oscar piastri.

you had a camera around your neck and you clicked pictures as you walked through the streets. people, cars, building, the sheer luxury that screamed from every atom in the city. you were trying to build a portfolio. something good enough that you could quit your 9-5 job and pursue photography full time. you had an instagram account already. you shared your pictures, and you got likes and comments. you had a decent following, though, nowhere near how you much you would need to be a good, reliable photographer.

of course, your parents had questioned that multiple times, with the usual questioning of "what will people say?" "how will you live on such an income?" "just find a rich man to marry first, then do all of this."

you had indulged in their line of questioning the first two times, and then gave up. nothing would stop them from convincing you a steady income was better and photography was a hobby, not a career. you understood that it came from a place of concern, but it still hurt a little bit.

your body clock reminded you that it was time for some chai. apparently, no matter what timezone you were in, at 5 o'clock, your body instantly craved tea. quickly looking for a nearby cafe, you walked in, making sure to protect your camera.

standing in queue, you quickly put your camera inside your bag carefully, and pulled out the amount you would need as you surveyed the menu. a chai tea and an almond biscuit would do.

quickly ordering and briefly chatting with the woman at the counter, you waited at the side for your name to be called. you knew they were going to butcher up your name, so it was easier to just stand close and wait for your order on your own.

when they called out your name, ruining it, of course, you quickly took your hot tea and the plate with the almond biscuit, and turned, looking for a place to sit. finding a corner table near the window, you started making your way over. the cup was filled to the brim, and you were trying to make sure that it wouldn't spill.

just as she reached her table and was about to set her cup down, someone crashed into her from behind, muttering quick sorries as her drink spilled all over the table, and her hands nearly soaked in the hot beverage.

"oh my god, im so sorry. um, are you hurt?" you were ready to fight whoever made you drop your tea. but you knew that voice. you heard it in videos over and over again.

slowly turning around, you came face to face with oscar piastri. the oscar piastri.

if you'd met him in any other circumstance, you would probably have been more excited. for now, your spilled tea was a much bigger concern.

your eyes fell on the spilled cup, and you said in a small, dejected voice, "my chai,"

oscar followed your gaze, instantly realising what you were talking about and why you seemed so sad. "oh my god, i'm so sorry! my friend and i were playing around, and we didn't mean to spill your drink,"

"yeah, really sorry about that," a voice, lando norris' voice said from behind oscar, looking apologetic and mildly amused.

"don't worry, though, oscar's going to buy you another drink." lando stated, clapping a hand on oscar's back.

oscar turned to lando, confused, "i am?" and then immediately turned to you, "i mean, yes! i am! i'll buy you another drink!"

you sighed, "no, it's not necessary,"

"no, no, i insist. i spilled your drink, i should get you a new one," oscar insisted.

you wanted to say no, that it didn't matter. but oscar piastri was offering you a drink. that felt like a once in a lifetime opportunity.

you agreed.

oscar immediately smiled, and you smiled back. you didn't know why, you just wanted to after seeing his soft smile.

"great! well, i've got to run, so enjoy your little date!" lando said, before rushing off.

you had forgotten that lando had been standing there too. his insinuation that this was a date made you blush. this wasn't a date. right? he was oscar piastri. you were you.

regular people don't go out with rich people on dates.

oscar gestured for you towards the counter, and with a shy smile, you did. he followed closely behind, a little air of awkwardness between the two of you.

"what were you drinking?" he asked while the two of you waited in line.

"oh, i had ordered tea. never got to drink it, though," you teased.

oscar smiled softly, "i am sorry about that,"

you nudged him slightly, "it's okay, i was just teasing,"

"so, a chai tea?"

you stared at him incredulously, "how dare you?"

oscar's face filled with panic, "what? what did i do?"

"it's not chai tea! it's either chai or tea!"

"but it's called chai tea!"

"no, oscar! chai means tea! tea in hindi is called chai. so, chai tea is essentially-"

"tea tea,"

"exactly!" the two of you had moved up the line, your hands flying as you spoke animatedly.

once at the counter, you ordered your drink, oscar sneakily paying for it after you insisted on doing so, and this time, oscar held your drink as the two of you walked back to the same table where you had originally spilled your drink.

the two of you sat together. the two of you talked. about anything and everything. it didn't really matter. you had plans for the day. you were sure that oscar had plans for the day. but, well until after sunset, the two of you sat at the table, ordering drinks after drinks, and just kept on talking.

you told him about your country, and your life growing up, and what you were doing in monaco. he told you about his country, and his life growing up, and the differences in the media about his job.

you told him about your career, and your passion, and your freedom. he told you about his career, his team, and his independence.

you told him about your pet, and your favourite moments with your best friends, and your beautiful, beautiful mother.

he told you about his trips around the world, and his favourite moments of having lando as a teammate, and his beautiful, beautiful mother.

there were so many things to talk about. there wasn't enough time. technically, you were going to see him the next three days because you've got the paddock passes. but, you won't be able to spend time with him. and it made you a little sad to think about.

oscar walked you back to your hotel. the walk was a little long. but you didn't mind. you got to spend time with him. that's what you wanted, and that's what you got.

somewhere, sometime along the way, your hand ended up tucked in the inside of his elbow. somewhere, sometime along the way, he leaned in closer to you. somewhere, sometime along the way, you realised that oscar piastri was everything you had been looking for.

you weren't sure if it would work. for one, it would have to be a long distance relationship, with minimal visits from your end because money was always a little tight. for another, oscar had an ever-moving job. there wasn't any stability, at least not that you could see.

what were the chances that it would work?

before he left, he asked for your phone number. of course, he did. you gave it to him happily, albeit a little shyly. you were going to see him the next day. he knew that too. he made you promise to text him once you had reached the paddock, because he wanted to see you.

oscar piastri wanted to see you.

you agreed.

that night, you went to bed with a smile on your face.

the next morning, you checked your phone as soon as you woke up, not sure what you were expecting. but whatever you were expecting had come true, because there was oscar's message right there on the top, telling you about how excited he was to see you.

you danced your way through your routine, you sang your way to the paddock. you had a smile on your face that you couldn't erase, and you just had a good feeling about this.

as soon as you reached the paddock, you texted oscar. though, before you could find him, lando found you first.

"hey, you're the girl from yesterday!" he exclaimed, pointing at you slightly.

you laughed, "yeah, that's me,"

"what are you doing here?"

"i have the paddock passes for the three days, and oscar told me to text him once i reached,"

lando smirked, "oh, he did, did he?"

your cheeks heated up.

"y'all are cute already. come on, i'll take you to him," lando said, and began walking.

you followed him.

you were nervous suddenly. how were you going to greet oscar? what if he didn't want to see you inside wherever lando was taking you? what if he just wanted to have a quick chat with you and move on?

to distract yourself, you took pictures. people, drivers, the paddocks, everyone and everything.

lando noticed your camera, and made you promise to show some later.

finally, you reached oscar. he was in the team kit. his eyes lit up when he saw you and your heart did a little something funny.

"y/n! hi!" he said, as he rushed towards you, stopping right in front of you.

lando giggled, slapping oscar on his back as he walked away.

"hi,"

"you made it!"

"i mean, i did have the paddock passes," you teased.

his cheeks became pink, just slightly, as he rubbed the back of his neck, "that's true, yes,"

"i'm happy to see you, though," you said, taking a brave step forward.

he smiled radiantly, "so am i,"

and then, he led you around the paddock, introducing you to people as if he hadn't just met you yesterday. he showed you all kinds of places, told you all kinds of things. you clicked pictures as much as you could, wanting to add them in your digital diary.

and that's how your three days went by.

oscar showed you every place possible, you captured everything you found beautiful.

now, if most of the phots ended up being oscar's, that's not your fault. he didn't have to be beautiful.

you captured the cars on track, and you captured the fans. you captured the team reactions, and you captured the machinery.

you captured pictures of lando laughing with his team, and you captured pictures of oscar discussing with his race engineer.

just after qualifying was when everything changed.

lando had pole position, with oscar starting p2. it was a papaya front row. both drivers were excited to win for the team. after the interviews were done, oscar had told you that he would change, and then he'd drop you back to your hotel. while you waited in the paddock for him, lando approached you.

"show me the pictures you took," he said.

"you demand a lot,"

he rolled his eyes, smiling, "alright, show me the pictures you took, please,"

you giggled, "that's more like it," and you handed him your camera.

you were suddenly nervous about him looking at the pictures you took. they weren't amazing, but they weren't bad either.

lando went through the pictures, focused, and your anxiety grew.

just then, oscar approached.

"hey guys, what's going on?" he asked.

"osc, you didn't tell me how talented she is,"

"what do you mean?"

you chewed on your lip.

"i mean that these pictures are fucking good. i bet if we show them to zak or andrea or whoever, they'd hire her,"

"lando, come on-" you started.

"i'm serious, y/n. come here, oscar, look at these,"

oscar shifted towards lando, leaning over his shoulder to see.

"guys, i haven't edited them yet, and like, a lot of them are trash-"

"fuck, these are really good," oscar didn't say 'fuck' a lot, and for him to be saying it in the moment seemed like a big deal.

"y/n, what if you edit these pictures tonight, and get them tomorrow to show to the media head?" oscar asked.

you hesitated.

"look, you wanted to pursue your passion, but you were worried about the money, right? this kind of solves all of your problems," he stated.

"what other problems? long distance kinds?" lando teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

"shut up!" oscar said, though his ears were tinged red.

"okay. i can do that. it's worth a shot," you said, staring at your camera, before you looked at oscar, who was already staring at you, "right?"

"right." he nodded.

you took the camera back, and you walked with oscar to his car. the two of you made idle conversation. your mind was buzzing with the million possibilities of what could happen tomorrow, not just with the race, but with your career.

you knew that lando and oscar weren't so cruel that they'd lie to you. but you also knew that you pictures weren't as good as they claimed it to be.

"hey, don't overthink it, okay? go with the designs and the pictures you think are the best," oscar softly encouraged you, as he parked in front of your hotel.

you nodded, taking a deep breath, before you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek, "thank you,"

and you climbed out of his car.

you were awake almost all night, designing and redesigning your pictures, choosing the best of the best from your trip. you were filled with anxiety, but you also felt alive. you were excited to see where this would lead to.

just before you went to bed, close to 5 am, oscar's name popped up on your phone.

"come an hour earlier, please" he'd said in the text. you had replied immediately, letting him know that you'd be there.

another message came from him, but you were already out cold by then.

you woke up buzzing, excited to see the reactions you would get for your photography. you tried not to get your hopes up too much. there was a big chance that all of it could end up meaning nothing. but, you were still grateful for the opportunity.

as per oscar's request, you arrived at the paddock an hour early, immediately walking to where you knew oscar would be. it was funny how you knew the paddock so well already because of oscar showing you around.

you found oscar quickly, and he didn't waste any time in grabbing your hand and pulling you into an office.

"where are we going?" you asked.

"the media head wants to see you,"

"damn, i don't get a hi hello then?"

oscar stopped suddenly, causing you to crash into him. he turned to look at you. the two were you were standing close, closer than ever before.

"hi, y/n," he said with a smile.

"hi, oscar," you replied, matching his grin.

"ready to go now?"

you nodded, "yes,"

and he began pulling you away again.

once he found the media head, he pushed you towards her.

taken slightly aback, you introduced yourself, and handed her your ipad with the pictures on it.

the media head was nice when she spoke to you, but once she started looking at the pictures, you began to worry again.

you turned and looked at oscar, who gave you a little thumbs up of encouragement.

she nodded, handing the ipad back to you, and you quickly took it from her.

"they're good. they could be better. you could start with an internship position here, and we go forward from there, if you're willing,"

"yes! thank you so much!" you exclaimed.

she discussed the logistics with you, about meeting with the legal team later and meeting zak and andrea, and everything. all you could think about in that moment was that maybe the thing between you and oscar could actually end up being something real.

safe to say, everything went smoothly after that.

as soon as she was out of your sight, you immediately turned around and threw yourself in oscar's arms, unable to stop yourself. oscar hugged you back eagerly, his arms wrapping around your waist tightly.

as you pulled back, you whispered, "thank you,"

oscar smiled, the two of you still wrapped in each other, "this way i get to keep you with me everywhere,"

you laughed and nodded, "who knew a stranger crashing into me could lead to all of this, huh?"

oscar blushed again, "i did apologise for that!"

"what if we go out again and i'll make you try proper tea?"

he smiled, his eyes flicking to your lips once, "i'd like that,"

years later, on your wedding day, you posted pictures of oscar in his sherwani clicked by you, with the caption "from crashing and clicks to forever dreams come true."

•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨•.¸¸.•

hi! thank you so much for reading! i'm still trying to figure out how to write oscar. i think i relate more with lando and max personality-wise, so it's easier for me to write rpf about them. anyways! this was my first oscar x reader! i hope you like it. this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

Butcher!Simon x gn!reader Part 11 I know it's been forever. I finished my exam and then fell into an energy coma and did not get anything done. Sorry if this chaper is kinda disappointing but I'm trying to find my flow again with this; I gave it my best shot. These two still make me go insane. As always if I messed up readers description please tell me. I am merely a self indulgend human who is prone to mistakes. Part 10 | COD Masterlist | (Part 12)

Simon’s pretty sure he’s beet red under his helmet. Now that he’s making his way through traffic with your arms wrapped around him the previous interaction is catching up to him and he can’t believe he had the audacity to touch you like that.

Then again, you hadn’t objected. Maybe you’d just been too polite to shove his hand off. But you had grabbed it, held it too, maybe that moment hadn’t been as one sided as he feared (who is he kidding, why would an angel like you willingly touch a sinner like him).

He tries to shake the thoughts off, just being thankful that he got those precious moments forever seared into his memory.

Suddenly your arms are gone from around him and he almost gets worried until he realizes that you merely spread them to the side, wriggling your fingers trying to feel the wind. Before he can stop himself one of his hands finds your thigh and he gently grabs onto you, making sure you’re still there. His heart is beating so loudly he can feel it echo through his body, surely you can feel it through the thick gloves and pants, drumming against your skin, spelling his devotion in Morse code.

The fact that you don’t seem bothered by it in the least tilts the picture he had of you in his mind sideways. You’re wary, shy and scared without your dog, but not uncomfortable with casual physical touch and he’s incredibly thankful for it.

Simon’s not sure since when he’s someone who wants to casually touch others (he doesn’t, he only wants to touch you, he wants you to touch him too, wants you to wrap your hands around his throat and make him yours) but he wants to touch you. Preferably all day, every day.

He can feel himself short-circuit when your arms wrap around him again and your hands slowly stroke up and down his chest and stomach. Hopefully you can’t feel the way his heart tries to squeeze its way through his ribs to fall into your perfect hands.

Once again his chest swells with a warm thick feeling and he wants to tear his ribs open, carve out his heart and make a home for you in its stead. He wants to chain you to him so he won’t have to spend another second without you (okay, fucking weirdo, he should really get a grip on his thoughts).

It’s the best ride of his life with you pressed close to him and every now and then spreading your arms. He can even pretend you’re wrapping your arms around him out of want and not necessity. Maybe he can remember the feeling the next time he wakes up alone from a nightmare.

He thinks of your mutt, who gets to wake up to you every morning. Simon would sleep in a dog bed too if it meant he could be close to you like that.

The ride is over far too soon when he parks a few streets away from the venue. Immediately he holds out his hand for you to get off and you take it, putting your other hand onto his shoulder to stabilize yourself while you get off with ease.

You take of the helmet and gear. Simon can’t help but appreciate the view of you stripping something off, even if it is only the outermost layer. Immediately he admonishes himself for the path his thoughts take but he really can’t help it when you wriggle out of the gear and hand it to him to put it back in the cases.

“Ready?”, he asks you and your excited grin is almost infectious. Now that you’re near the concert hall you’re all restless buzzing energy. Most of it excitement but he can sense an underlying nervousness too.

Simon is sure that Wraith could have calmed you down in seconds. For a moment he almost misses the mutt, if only for how comfortable he makes you. Then he shakes it off. He’s here and he’ll take better care of you than the mutt. He’ll show you that there’s nothing to fear with him at your side.

Slowly he places one of his hands on your shoulder and your body stills. His eyes zero in on the way it looks so fucking big against you and he swallows dryly. Your eyes find his and he tries to reassure you through his body language alone, squeezing your shoulder to ground you.

You take a few deep breaths and then your hand comes up, reaching for his. He nearly chokes on his own saliva when instead of brushing him off, you take his hand in yours and bring it down so you can comfortably hold it.

“So we don’t get separated.”, you say softly while slight pink dusts your cheeks.

Oh.

Simon is so utterly fucked.

It takes all his willpower to just gently squeeze your hand instead of sweeping you off your feet so he can kiss you breathless and slip his tongue between your perfect lips, taste if you’re as sweet as you look (oh god, he should stop fantasizing about kissing you or he’s going to lose his mind).

He nods, like a normal person and manages answer without stumbling over his words. “Of course.”

It’s a throwback to the way you strolled through the park, but this time you initiated the contact and Simon might be floating instead of walking.

As you approach the concert hall more and more people join your direction and your eyes widen as you take in the crowds. Now you’re looking around a lot, scanning those closest to you as if you expect danger any moment now. It reminds Simon of a little meerkat on the lookout and he probably should not find it as endearing as he does.

He takes a deep breath and when he exhales a bit of calmness settles over him. It’s almost like a mission, when he thinks about it. Get you safely into the building, let you enjoy yourself and safely get you back. Stuff like that he can handle. Stuff like that he’s done before. Stressful situations are where he –

You step closer to him, your other arm coming up as well and now you’re damn near hugging his arm. Simon almost stumbles over his own feet but he catches himself and looks at your overwhelmed expression.

He extracts his arm from your almost hug and instead puts it around you, effectively pulling you into his side. He holds his breath for a second, afraid that any unnecessary movement may spook you (breathing is unnecessary when it comes to your comfort).

Instead of pulling away you seem to slightly relax and he continues leading you into the hall. When you enter you crane your neck to look around and then your eyes settle on Simon.

“I’ve never been to an event this big!”, you shout over the deafening sound of thousands of people having their own private conversations.

“Get ready to have your mind blown. Been to one of their concerts before. They’re bloody brilliant, sweetheart.”, he shouts back and once again you giddily hop in place a bit. This time he gets to feel the movement against his side and he fights himself to not crush you against him in his intense need to hold you closer.

He looks around, satisfied that he managed to herd you to the front row directly before the stage. After all you deserve nothing but the best experience and any regret he could have had for the people behind him that might have a slightly obstructed view, dies the second you beam up at him.

“Thank you, Simon.” You nearly squeal and he knows his eyes crinkle with the way he smiles so wide.

“Welcome, sweetheart.”

His own excitement is growing, not just at your anticipation but because he can’t wait for the music to start. His gaze is embarrassingly soft as he looks down at you, next to him and he fights the need to place his hand on your hips and pull you closer.

At least he knows that the hall will get so crowded that more physical contact between you two is inevitable and Simon will soak that up like a sponge that’s been dry for years.

[sgiandubh]

Sunshine

Of all the terms of endearment this fandom has bestowed upon OL's cast, the Onlies' 'Samshine' always sounded the most superficially misplaced. Simply because I think there is more to that person than the smile and the sexy smirk. Also, the objectification that denies any depth and goes for the poster (fuck)boy image only, without a single look to a rather complex BTS story and to a rather rich past.

Because the real OL ray of sunshine is, in my very humble opinion, this woman:

She managed to transform Marsali into a wonderful, unforgettable presence, exactly where Skeleton turned Brianna into an irrelevant, borderline annoying silhouette ('I'm your daughter' - no, one more time: I will never forget her for eternally butchering that line). Both were very young, virtually unknown (at least to me) and facing the considerable challenge of being catapulted into a meaningful role of a successful series. A series with a very invested fanbase, that was going to nitpick on every move and sometimes cruelly sanction any faux-pas. The very sharp contrast remains, a clear testimony of the combination of genuine talent, hard work and formidable humility that made Lauren Lyle the very promising Scottish actress she clearly is. And no, I don't need to watch Karen Pirie to know it is so (however, I am sorry it has been only scarcely distributed overseas, as of now).

And I am so glad I managed to tell her at least some of all this, as I was taking this ludicrous picture with her. Where yes, I readily admit do look like a starstruck psychopath, supposing both I and the Kindly Photo Lady were bored pretending to make an effort:

She managed to surprise me with her irresistible, straightforward approach. I was very, very relaxed and just told her exactly what I just wrote: 'you are such a ray of sunshine and I am so pleased to meet you, finally! You've made Marsali unforgettable and it was anything but expected!'

She was very gracious, though: ' And you, lady in red, look at you, you bring such warmth along and you are so cool!'

And I melted, like the idiot I am, of course.

There was nothing rehearsed about it, no bullshit given (nor taken, from anyone, I am positive), just a really good person who sounded very pleased and not afraid to show her emotions and real self.

She was everything I thought I saw in her, with zero expectations on my side. And then some more. This extra dose of soul will make all the difference between 'just another actress' and Lauren Lyle, in (let's say at random) five years from now.

I see great things.

The Landcon series will end with my last, bookend post. After the Logistics, the Dynamics. And then, curtain - I've babbled enough.

[howi99]

From the Nest 19

Jaune: Forever fall? *Pensive* I've heard it was quite the sight, from what my teacher told me. *Sigh* Never could see the place myself.

Ruby: *gulping down a cookie* Why not?

Jaune: *sigh, slumping down with a defeated look on his face* I'm such a Grimm magnet, it would be like running in a bear's den covered in honey...

Yang: *arms behind her head, her chair dangerously leaning back* And yet, you survived in the wild for years. How?

Jaune: *shrug* Traps.

Yang: Traps? *Chuckle* What, did you booby trap the entire forest?

Jaune: Yeah, why? *Scratch his head* Don't y'all do the same?

Yang: *blink* No, not really- *lean back a bit too much, losing her balance* Oh crap!

Jaune: *Quickly grab Yang's arm before she falls to the ground* And stop doing that! You're going to hurt yourself at this rate.

Yang: *giving an apologetic smile* Sorry, bad habits.

Weiss: *glaring at Jaune from the other side of the table* ...

Jaune: *locking eyes with her, smiling* Can't keep my beautiful visage out of your mind?

Weiss: *looking away* Tsk...

Blake: So what's the plan? Are we going or?

Jaune: You mean to forever fall? *Pensive* I guess with everyone being there, it shouldn't be a problem.

Ren: If it's such a problem, i can use my semblance to mask both our aura.

Jaune: ... *Wiping an invisible tear* Where were you all my life?

Ren: *shrug* Surviving in the wilderness, like you. Then joining Sanctum with Nora.

Jaune: Were there a lot of guys like you two? You know...

Nora: *nod* Yeah, but not as much as we thought. *Shrug* Apparently there's a bunch of bandits who keep the villages safe from the Grimm. I think they are famous or something.

Yang: *curious* Really? What's their names?

Nora: *pensive* I think they're called the... Branwen tribe...? I think?

Blake: They are helping villages? That's nice.

Ren: They are even doing a better job than the huntsmen. Since they had a change of leadership, they've been trying to clear their names.

Yang: (A change in leadership, huh? That must be her they are talking about)

Weiss: *pensive* The Branwen tribe... *Frown* Jaune, you said your tribe interacted with the white fang before.

Jaune: *sweating* W-well yeah, but-

Weiss: And from what i remember, the Branwen tribe was known to attack SDC mining operations in collaboration with the White Fang.

Jaune: *confused* Mining operations? *Horror creeping on his face, completely forgetting Yang was there* You mean those forced labor camps were yours!?

Weiss: *also confused* What are you talking about? Everyone there is paid a salary and they are working willingly! We are not monst-

Jaune: *slamming his fist on the table* They tortured faunus kids, marking them like cattle! *Breathing out, feeling nauseous* Fucking hell, no wonder your family was targeted by them... *Looking at Weiss* Do you have any idea how many unmarked grave there was in each of those camps!?

Weiss: *Freeze* ... What-

Jaune: *throwing his hands in the air* Hundreds! *Get up, turning around angrily* And here i was feeling bad for you and your family... *Grit his teeth* Fucking butchers... *Leave*

Weiss: *looking down, sweating heavily* That can't be true...

Everyone: *silently staying around* ...

Pyrrha: *coming back from the kitchen with a sandwich* ... Where's Jaune? And Yang?

_ _ _

Jaune: *trying to light himself a cigarette, his hands shaking from rage* DAMMIT ALL! *Throwing the cigarette on the ground, stomping it angrily* FUCK FUCK FUCK! *Kicking the wall* FUCK!

Yang: Jaune-

Jaune: *not noticing her* It's not like she's responsible for what her father did! Fucking hypocritical bitch that i am, it's literally the same for me!

Yang: *her arm crossed* Jaune!

Jaune: *noticing Yang* What!?

Yang: We need to talk.

Jaune: No we don't.

Yang: *grabbing his arm firmly* You're a Branwen, aren't you?

Jaune: *sarcastic scoff* Wow, figured that just now?

Yang: *frown* I had my suspicions for a while, i'm not dumb.

Jaune: ... *Sigh* Fine, we'll talk later.

Yang: *shake her head* No, now-

Jaune: *cutting her* Trust me, you want to talk to me later. In the meantime, could you tell Weiss that i am sorry and didn't meant those last parts?

Yang: ... *Let go of his arm* Fine. *Point her finger at him* But you better answer every question i have.

Jaune: I will.

Yang: ... *Turn around, leaving him alone*

Jaune: ... *Sigh* What a mess.

[panelshowsource]

That Robbie Williams post reminded me something I heard a few days ago: I was listening to a podcast, and they discussed who the most famous British people are who are not known to Americans, like the discourse about Robbie Williams when his film came out. I'm British, so I would be interested in your opinion as an American. Who do you think is the most famous British person that very few Americans know?

this is such a fun question!

i feel like my answer 10–15 years ago may be different to now! like, in 2005, it wouldn't have been crazy to say michael barrymore, you know? so i'm going to try and compromise by sticking to my pov as a mid 90s baby and young millennial

i thought long and hard......and......i'm gonna say......ant and dec. that's my final answer. they have been such a constant in the british television industry for 30+ years that every single person of every single age demographic has at some point encountered them, and they're still quite in demand and relevant. i get that these days people may prefer to see claudia winkleman, alison hammond, whatever, this isn't a convo about being beloved but about being FAMOUS—and does anyone in the uk not know ant and dec? because i cannot impress upon you how unknown they are in the states, like absolute and complete nobodies i'm sorry 😭 i genuinely think the only way an american would have come across them is from a viral BGT clip, and even then ant and dec are not the focus of those clips so they just don't register at all. isn't that wild?

my other top contendor was noel edmonds (+ mr blobby), but i felt like he was too much of a throwback since he's pretty irrelevant now. still, if i'm doing my top 5–10, he'd still be in it, and i'd also mention terry wogan, parky, des o'connor, phil and holly (many americans will know the "if my grandmother had wheels she would have been a bike" clip but have no idea where it's from or who the people in it are, so imo it doesn't count as 'knowing' them cuz it's nothing more than a meme), peter kay, lee evans, and a fictional character like phil mitchell, pat butcher, or delboy. i am sorry to agree that take that members like robbie williams and gary barlow certainly qualify as well!

i do understand sports can be a major blindspot for americans — especially football (soccer), snooker, and darts — but there are enough americans who will follow these sports that i don't think the relevant figures win over some of the other people i listed. like, bobby charlton, wayne rooney, ronnie o'sullivan, dennis taylor, eric bristow, i could go on—very unknown in the united states overall, yes, but well known by the select few americans who care about these things. that said, the disparity in the fame a top footballer experiences in the uk vs here is probably the biggest disparity in this whole convo

i didn't really get into politicians (and by extension someone like david dimbleby or moira stuart?), feels like a cheat code to this game

i hope that was fun for any of my british followers to read! hahahaha i genuinely could name so many people because of course british news, entertainment, and sports are a unique culture that does not cross over nearly as much as we assume it does! but these are the people who seem to me to be the most widely recognised in the uk who i guarantee you no americans know

[shoutydwarf]

Veilguard ending spoilers

It's so hard for me to talk about how I feel about Solas because on one hand, there's great potential in his arc, but on the other, bioware has completely butchered that in such a profound way that I don't care to look past the hiccups to enjoy him.

First, he's race locked. This really doesn't help to contest the idea that he's a supremacist. If it was truly a time crunch issue where they added it so late they couldn't add the other races, but knew at the time what Solas was and what he meant to the plot - why, on gods green fucking earth, was it included at all? Because they spend the whole next game trying really hard to convince you he's not just an ages old racist stuck in his ways, only to not just have race locked him but to hide his most egregious act, of which he committed against a certain race he's known to be racist towards.

You'll be hard pressed to catch a certain type of solavellan, which encompasses the majority of them, even saying the word titan. The part that baffles me is you'll also be hard pressed to hear SOLAS HIMSELF saying it in game. If I'm recalling correctly, I only heard him say it one singular time outside of the mural memories. At the very end of the game.

There is zero acknowledgement on his part of what he did, at least not in any meaningful way. The orb that the evanuris made their foci out of that Solas says is an elven artifact? Titan heart. The dagger he made? Titan blood. The empire of Arlathan? Founded on the blood and genocide of titans. And I mean that in the most literal sense that I can. All of their godly powers that they used to create their empire was pulled from the well of titan souls they locked within the Golden City.

It's fucking poetic at this point. They silenced the titans so good and well that it seems not even Solas remembers what his glorious kingdom of old cost. It's even funnier if you stand in front of him as a Cadash or a dwarf!Rook.

This man they're trying SO HARD to beat into you around every corner that he's so so sad, he's so so full of regret and sorrow, he's so depressed and anguished over his deeds, not once acknowledges in a way that matters that what he and the evanuris did to the titans was wrong. And if he doesn't feel remorse over that in any way that's loud enough for him to talk about it as he does the veil, how the fuck am I supposed to believe he's sorry for all the other things?

Weekes has admitted to literally, somehow, casually forgetting dwarves don't dream when they were writing the scene of the Haven dream with Solas and the Inquisitor. Add this to how many lines dwarf!rook has of comparing things to dreams, casting necromancy spells etc and it becomes pretty clear that they never intended to afford this genocided race lore reveal the gravity it needed. They just needed it as a minor plot device in a greater elven narrative that completely, utterly, 100% unravels the message they're desperate to send with Solas. They really said to solavellans don't worry, kittens, he committed a really heinous, unforgivable act that he's not taking any strides to repair but we're not going to have him talk about it at all so you can continue ignoring it and scrolling tiktok during Harding's questline. And yall said okay ❤️ yay ❤️.

And no, you can't argue that his goal was always to tear down the Veil to restore immortality/magic to the elves AND wake up the titans. Because those are two separate things, and one of those things he never once said he was doing. He doesn't need the titans awake to take down the Veil and restore Arlathan. In fact, he very much needs them to stay tranquil, otherwise he'd finally get the ass whooping he fucking deserves when my dwarves not only attack his unguarded kneecaps with hammers but start chucking rocks at him and booing loudly.

This is why he's irredeemable for me. This is why I wanted an ending where I can kill him, not because I hate him as a concept or even as a character, but because his writing is such a fucking joke. And putting him into a sock and banging him against the counter is the only valid response to such a cosmic fumble because it's the only option that matches its freak in being so ridiculous. It's bad writing, it's weak, cheap, lazy, and directly crumbles the entire foundation.

While the ending of having him spend eternity soothing the dreams of the titans is excellent in form, because although it doesn't show him taking accountability it does show him taking steps to repair the damage he did to them, I don't ever get to establish, as a dwarf Rook or even just as a player, that THAT is why I want him to do this. Nobody says, "Make this right by earning the forgiveness of your first victim." Instead, for Solas, it's like, "well, since I have to go there anyway, I might as well. I guess. Whatever."

All this while they're in that AMA saying shit like "two groups are more affected than any other by the evanuris - the elves and (wait for it) Tevinter."

A fucking joke, I tell you.

[churipu]

Hi, may i request jjk men s/o is like roxana agriche ? If you don't know her, she was described as a ravishingly beautiful young woman with wavy golden hair that reaches below her waist and long lashes framing her crimson eyes. She often wears elegant dresses with butterfly motifs. Thank youuuu,! ❤️

ROXANNE ! — JJK MEN AND THEIR "ROXANA AGRICHE" PARTNER

featuring. gojo satoru, toji fushiguro, sukuna ryomen x reader

warnings. cursing

note. hi anon! i took some time into looking into roxana agriche and her personality. i could see sources saying she's a cunning person and somehow manipulative to get what she wants + she's mellow voiced and poised too. i don't read the series, so i hope i didn't butcher your request. thank you for requesting anon, i hope you enjoy this!

GOJO SATORU. he loves how calm you are at times — but with his energetic nature, on other times he feels like you should try to loosen up. sure you do laugh at his jokes, or pop a smile every once in a while. gojo loves you.

he just wishes you'd loosen up, with him. only him.

he finds your personality endearing and unique. that's why he fell in the first place, you managed to fool him the first time you both met — and ever since that day, he's been so interested in you (eventually falling in love with you).

you're such an unique person, with your various colored butterfly motive dresses that's now carved into a personality, your cool as a cucumber personality.

believe me when i said he took a long time chasing after you, trying to make you fall for him, he's done everything. get you chocolates, get you flowers, pizza, kikufuku. and one day you just accepted him and boom! he's your boyfriend.

but sometimes, he feels like he isn't. and it's starting to etch into his mind that you were just using him.

"satoru, are you listening to me?"

"are you using me?" you looked at him with that eyes of yours, that somehow looked so empty it scares gojo sometimes. you were silent, so gojo decided to speak again, "did you accept me out of pity?"

no. the answer is no. you do really like him, you're in love with him. people around you perceive you as someone cunning and manipulative — that you just had to...keep up with it. you felt like showing other things would be such a weakness.

"why are you saying that? have you been watching those sappy weird dramas again?" gojo heaved out a sigh.

"just because you say that you love me, doesn't mean i feel loved by you." okay, your relationship was in a verge of crumbling away right now and you honestly didn't know what to do, "are you listenin' to me. y/n?"

"i am."

"say something about it then."

it was either this whole personality, or gojo, "i do love you, satoru," you tell him, "and i apologize if i don't make you feel loved, that is completely a mistake in my part. you do a lot of things for me, and..i don't do as much for you. i apologize for that."

it will always be gojo over this whole personality, weakness and stuff.

hearing the word "apologize" made gojo flutter, you weren't really the type to apologize in the first place, so this all seemed like a fever dream to him, "i know 'm not doing much for you right now, but i do love you— and, i just...don't know how to show it to you. i'm so sorry."

you're a person of your own words, gojo felt loved, and you felt loved. it was a total win for the both of you.

TOJI FUSHIGURO. he could care less about your whole personality or how much people hate it, in fact, your personality is one of the thing he loves most about you. other than that, there is one thing that he doesn't like about you.

he hates how beautiful you are. let's be real, as much as toji tries to show himself off as a bold and macho man — he's human too, and i feel like sometimes he feels a little insecure and scared. scared that you'll find someone better than him, then leave.

although he's never said that directly to your face, he shows it to you. and you knew, but also said nothing about his behavior. toji is an assassin, he's a sorcerer killer, he gets missions that required a long time. and in those times, he couldn't help but to think that you'll leave him to find someone better.

someone who could be there for you. someone obviously more perfect.

and as much as you don't show it to him, he's the most perfect. you'd never tell him that indirectly, but you show it through your actions. after all, actions do speak louder than words, right?

"what is your motive, toji?" you murmur into his shoulder— the male has been indubitably clingy for the past couple of hours, it was starting to get suspicious.

"what? 'm not allowed to hug my own partner now or something?" he retorted back.

"you're acting quite odd."

toji stayed mute. and it was obvious what he was doing, when everyone couldn't see right through him— there you were, reading him like an open book, "don't understand what you're talkin' 'bout."

you rubbed your hand on the back of his head, "i know you understand what i'm talking about," his body visibly flinches, but you paid no mind to that, your fingers trailing small circles on his nape, "what is it that you're afraid of?"

toji knew he could never lie to you, "you. leaving."

you pressed a kiss on to the side of his face, "well, you're worried over nothing. i'm not leaving you, not now at least."

toji pulls away, narrowing his eyes at you.

"hey, you never know when i'll die."

like hell toji would let that happen.

SUKUNA RYOMEN. like toji, he loves your personality — he's a brash person, and you were a cool headed person. name a better duo than that. often he'd find himself the one to ramble a lot in the relationship, complaining about how people are such shitty beings and how he'd rather be a rock.

one thing he despises is when people turn their heads to take a double-look at you whenever you both go out, it always annoyed him how people don't understand why he was there with you. or how it wasn't obvious enough that you were taken. by him.

"fucking shits."

you couldn't help but to smile at his fits of cursing, smiling lightly as you look up at him, "what's the matter?"

"'m seconds away from gauging their eyes.." sukuna mumbles out, scratching the back of his head sheepishly — he's a jealous person, there's no doubt to that of course, it's quite obvious is it not? what belongs to his is only his, nobody else's.

"how adorable."

sukuna despises it when you call him adorable, or how calm you are even if you know people turn their heads to look at you. he never asks you about it or why you never said anything to them, but he didn't like it, he wanted you to say something; show him off to these people, show him that he's yours too.

"are you jealous?"

"..no." hesitation was his enemy, with the slightest bit of pause — you could tell that he's lying through his words.

"do you perhaps want to go back home then?" home was the best place for you both (sukuna thinks, because he has your full attention and he doesn't have to worry about other people). he nodded his head and rolled his eyes.

"you should stop wearing these..dresses. wear them just for me," he mutters out.

"so you are jealous?"

"'m not. just saying."

he is jealous.

© CHURIPU 2023 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE !

[woeswrites]

Yandere Will Graham

Warnings: Yandere themes, Obsessive behaviors, Brief mention of rape/rapist, Dubious consent (mention of sex while under the influence), etc.

Notes: I am trying to be active again (fingers crossed). Little posts like this are a really easy way for me to get the creative juices flowing. Don't be surprised if a few more come out after this one lol.

You were a recent survivor of an attack

No, it wasn't the Chesapeake Ripper

It was just some other wannabe serial killer trying to get his rocks off

He had a dumb, stereotypical name too

The midnight slasher? midnight butcher?

Something like that

The media wasn't very creative with it

Whatever his name was, he'd clearly had a type

Young men

All of a similar stature

With the same hair and eye color

All known to be up at all hours of the day

It was a pretty open and shut case in Will's eyes

He was a plain and simple lust killer

Most likely white and in his 30s-40s

Classic closet case turned homicidal

He hadn't seen why the FBI was so stumped on the whole thing

The only real trouble was the lack of DNA evidence

He'd been real good at cleaning up after himself

Will knew he'd slip up eventually

This wasn't the type of guy to be so well organized for long

Well--

Does being murdered by your most recent victim count as a slip up?

Because that's exactly what happened

He was called to the scene with the rest of the team

The sight of you trembling, covered in blood, and standing over top of that creep was his first impression

You met his eyes and he was unable to pull away

Something about your tear blotched face held him captive

Jack tasked him with asking you questions about the events at hand

Normally this would have annoyed Will

He wasn't the talking type

Let alone someone sensitive enough to make such a traumatized person feel comfortable

But something in him didn't mind so much

Maybe it was the way you looked so vulnerable

Or the fact that no matter how much he pushed the idea away, he saw himself in you

An innocent man turned murderer under the right circumstances

"I'm Will Graham and I'll be asking you some questions."

"God, okay. I'm Y/n. Can't really say it's nice to meet you."

Will tried to start off slow

Ask the basics before moving onto the more pertinent information

You'd answer to the best of your abilities (considering the circumstances)

It took Will a second to jot down your responses

He'd get a little too caught up in your features to notice you'd stop talking

"Sorry, what was that? You got off work at 9?"

There was something admirable about your attempts to infuse your story with a bit of dry humor

Likely a coping mechanism

But Will found himself smiling a bit at your quips

By the time he'd finish up with you he'd felt a little attachment form

Sure the case was over on his end

But it didn't stop him from asking Jack about you

At least a couple times a week

"How's things going with that self defense case? Y/n's...?"

Will showed up the next day with your case fill on his desk

The sticky note stuck to it warned about annoying Jack with too many questions

He'd spend all night re-reading the details

Without noticing he began slipping in and out of re-enactment mode

Imagining you on top of him

Knife in hand

Crazed look in your eyes

He tried to shake the image away

He shouldn't be doing this

It wasn't right

You could've died that night

His guilt ridden thoughts did nothing to lessen the tent that had formed in his pajama pants

He tried to push the idea of you out of his head

Usually he'd have more control over himself than this

His resolve was strong at first

He'd hidden the manila folder away in the depths of his lower drawer

Telling himself he'd drop it

That worked for a couple of days

That was before he started dreaming of you

Events that he hadn't preformed himself took ahold of him

He became your attacker that night

He chased you

He ripped apart your clothes

He was the one who you fought off

He's the one who you thrust that knife into

And he loved every second of it

Wait--

No, he couldn't

This was just his empathy disorder

Yeah!

He was just in character

This definitely wasn't him

He would never want to do any of that stuff

And he'd prove it

He had memorized that file from front to back at this point

It wouldn't be weird that he'd known your address

He was an FBI consultant

It was basically warranted

Will found himself picking out his best clothes that night

His newest jeans, tailored shirt, the works

Not for any particular reason

And his bed was definitely not littered with rejected articles of clothing

This was just going to be a simple checkup, it's not like it really mattered what he looked like

He showed up on your doorstep with the nicest bottle of wine he could find

"Will? Is that you?"

"Uh, yeah it is. Would I be able to come in?"

You welcomed him in, albeit a little confused

"I thought my case was cleared..."

"That's not what I'm here for. I just wanted to check in on you."

You smiled at this

And Will felt his heart ache

You'd invite him to join in on your sorry excuse for a dinner

He'd never accepted anything so fast before in his life

It didn't take long before the two of you got into the wine he'd brought

It was innocent enough at first

Just drinking and talking

You'd mention how life was after the attack

Will shared a little about his experience with GJH

Its the first time he had ever felt so utterly connected with another person before

But then the two of you got a little more than tipsy

And Will found himself leaning in

One kiss turned into another and another

Will felt a sense of static overtake him

Every touch between the two of you sent shivers up his spine

He felt the strong urge to consume

Before either of you knew it your clothes were now in a heap on the kitchen floor

You woke up the next morning with a splitting headache

Oh-- and an FBI agent in your bed

Shock was an understatement

That was when the memories of the previous night flooded back

Will woke up at the loss of warmth

Last night was the best he had slept in years

You wrapped tight in his arms, bodies perfectly intertwined

His heart sank at the look of regret on your face

"We definitely shouldn't have done that. I think you should leave Will..."

He couldn't just leave now

Not knowing what he did

That you two were made for one another

He'd try to calm you down

"Y/n let's talk about this."

You weren't having it

Mentioning how inappropriate this all was

You'd shove his clothes into his arms

Will tried to console you

Not realizing why you were so worked up

You both did just have the best night of your life after all

You'd back away but he'd continue approaching

"C'mon I know you don't really want me to go. Let's just take a second before we make any rash decisions"

"We aren't doing anything. I want you to go. Now."

Something about him coming over while you were still recovering from your distress and it all leading to this...

It just didn't feel right

Will tried to approach once more but you pushed him away

He couldn't help the smile that made its way onto his face

"Push me. Go on, make it hurt."

You were absolutely bewildered

He reached out and grabbed ahold of you

His grip was almost crushing

Like he was holding on for dear life

"I won't leave you alone that easily. Fate brought us together for a reason. You feel it too right? We're one in the same. We're each other's destiny."

He looked crazed, sweat slipping from his brow

It felt just like that night all over again

The knife in your hand as your attacker bled out

Only now Will took his place underneath you