#Rare Ben 10 Facts

[ben10-lostandfound]

The Unsung Hero of Ben 10: Greg Johnson

Put this under Rare Facts, but this deserves its own post.

Ben 10 was pitched by Man of Action in 2002, and spent the next three years in development. Heavily inspired by Dial H for Hero, the concept started out as Ben using the watch to dial in superheroes, as seen in some of Steven E. Gordon's concept art.

As revealed in I-10, another version was where he'd use the watch, known then as the Megawatt, to swap places between 10 versions of himself from different universes.

However, according to Dave "Devilpig" Johnson, art director and character designer of the first two seasons, a writer named Greg Johnson came up with the final push that would make Ben 10 what it is: Aliens.

However, his contribution was uncredited outside of being mentioned by Dave on Twitter years later. While I can't 100% confirm this, I believe the Greg Johnson we're looking for is the same one who wrote for X-Men Evolution, another show Steven E. Gordon worked on.

His other credits include scattered episodes of many Marvel cartoons, even up to present day, having written (at the time of writing) 7 episodes of Spidey and His Amazing Friends.

So thank you, Greg Johnson, your idea to introduce aliens made the show into a phenomenon that it probably wouldn't have been without that additional touch.

[uniiiquehecrt]

Voice actors are NOT the same as actors.

It takes a specific kind of skill-set and training to be able to warp and meld the voice. It takes a certain kind of talent and dedication to hone that talent into the ability to meld the voice and invoke emotion with one's voice alone. Actors are used to using their voice secondarily to their body language and their facial expressions. It's all mirrored back on camera. They do have nuance. But it's a different kind of nuance and a different kind of training to produce that nuance.

Voice actors might get their likeness transposed on their character's design, and maybe their mannerisms might seep into the character's animation. But when it's all said and done: their presence is in their voice. They are bringing a character to life, showing that emotion in their voice, trying to keep a specific accent, drawl, pitch, tone in that voice and keep it consistent for their recording sessions.

The voice actor is like a classically trained musician who can play first chair in a competitive, world-renown orchestra. The actor (who fills the voice actor's role) is like a moot who played violin in beginner and intermediate high school orchestra and thinks they can get into Juilliard with that 2-4 years of experience.

This doesn't mean that the HS orchestra moot can't play. They can even be really good at it. Maybe they won competitions and sat first chair. But they are not in the same league as the person who's been training their whole lives and lives and breathes to hone their craft using the instrument and all of the training they've ever acquired to perfect it. They are not meant for the same roles. They are not in the same caliber. You do not hire the HS equivalent when you want to play complex music in a competitive orchestra.

Actors are not the same as voice actors.

And furthermore, actors - especially big name actors - taking the roles of animated characters for big budget films or TV pilots makes no sense anyways when - at least in the case of TV pilots - there's not a point to hiring a big budget actors anyways. That money could be used elsewhere (like paying your animators), and the talent that is brought onto the screen for X character could then be hired on to voice said character no recasting required.

I wouldn't say voice acting as a profession is in danger exactly, but it's certainly being disrespected and overlooked for celebrity clout, and this has ALWAYS been an issue. Shoot, even Robin Williams knew that much - which is why he tried so hard not to be used as a marketing chess piece for Aladdin and got royally pissed off when it happened anyways. People shouldn't go to any movie (but especially not animated films) because "oh famous actor is in it". People should go because it's a good movie and the voice acting is good.

People who honest to god think that voice actors are replaceable because "oh well anyone can voice act" or "I like xyz celebrity so naturally it'll be good" ... Honestly I just wish you'd reassess your priorities because you're missing the point and are part of the problem.

Voice Actors ≠ Actors.

[kariachi]

Fic! A zoo will soon be opening a handful of new exhibits...

~~

Rolling his shoulders, Ross straightened his back and took a steadying breath as they waited for the signal. It wasn’t that he didn’t like giving interviews, he wouldn’t have his job if that wasn’t something he could do with pleasure, but damned if big changes like this last one didn’t make him nervous. There had been mostly positive responses from the public, but he couldn’t help but be firmly aware that this was something new and untested from an accredited establishment, and this interview meant there was only so much time before everything was put out for all comers to see. In time to words he couldn’t hear, he watched the man behind the camera- Cian, liked ocelots, got to pet one when they still had one as an ambassador when he was a kid- silently count down.

“Everything’s great here, Trina,” the newscaster- Keshawn, had a cockatiel at home, swore up, down, and sideways the best animal was the gila monster- crowed as soon as the count was done, flashing a massive grin. Ross didn’t even try to match it, contagious though it was. “Hi folks, it’s Keshawn Marshall here live at the Rosewood Grand Zoo to talk with Affairs Director Ross Martinez about the new area everybody is talking about. How’s it going, Ross, is everybody excited?”

“It’s great, Keshawn,” Ross said with a smile, slipping properly into interview mode, “we’re really looking forward to the opening of our new Galaxy of Life area this weekend.” They’d been planning it before they even had the space available. If nothing else it would nice to be able to call it all done and public. “We’re certain visitors will find the animals as delightful as we do, some of them are real characters.” Keshawn laughed, honest and real.

“Seeing the new friend you’ve got just over there, I don’t doubt it,” he said, glancing over Ross’s shoulder, “but I get the feeling we’ll be meeting him in a minute.”

“He’s looking forward to it.” He wasn’t sure that he was, but he trusted that if that wasn’t the case he’d have gotten word and they’d have adjusted the setting to showcase another animal.

“Until then, Ross, why don’t you tell us a little bit about this new showcase?”

“Gladly.” Ross couldn’t help smiling wider, shoe scuffing against the ground so he could focus. “Our new Galaxy of Life area has been built to showcase a collection of animals from various other planets with the hope of improving education about and empathy with our galactic neighbors through our shared love of the natural world. We also will be presenting information on conservation groups and projects throughout the galaxy, and how we all work and learn together to improve how we each take care of our planets, and help to take care of each other’s.” Somehow that had hit the worldwide conservation community like the greatest wrecking ball, the realization that not only did the entire galaxy have groups dedicated to these causes, but that so many were willing to work together across species lines. Were willing to help and accept help from Earth in turn.

He still got warm and fuzzy when he thought about it.

“That sounds amazing,” Keshawn said, “an entire galactic community coming together in hopes of preserving all the unique life there must be out there.”

“And one Earth’s conservationists are happy to be a part of. In fact, visitors will be able to see an endangered alien species we’ve already agreed keep a small breeding colony of, while learning more about conservation and conservation success stories across the Milky Way in our Cave of Wonder.” Ross had known that one would get a laugh, and wasn’t disappointed.

“You couldn’t help yourselves, could you?”

“Nope. The staffs’ kids picked it out.” They’d given an early tour to all the families, and had the children vote from a list of options. ‘Rainbowrama’ had come second place, and he was kind of sad about it. Leaning back on his heel, Keshawn just barely tilted his head to one side.

“Just how many animals can guests expect to see when they come through?”

“We have thirty-eight animals across seven species from seven planets,” Ross recited off the top of his head. “Including two species from as far off as the Osmosian and Erinaen Empires-” And hadn’t that been a shocker, when Secretary Levin had gotten wind of their plans and put them in touch with people working with those far-flung planets. “-but personally, I think the biggest attractions will be the ones from our nearest neighbors, Hasiel and Kinet.”

“And is one of those where our new friend comes from?” There was the cue.

“Yes, it is,” he said, stepping aside so that is coworker could get comfortably in front of the camera with her charge, “as Poltiff can tell you.”

“This,” she immediately started off, relatively new to her position working with their animal ambassadors but already taking to it like a duck to water, “is Spot, he’s a renkol from our nearest inhabited neighbor, Kinet.” And he was taking to the camera as well as anyone could hope, or at least Ross hoped he was. It was hard to tell, really. Stacy had described them as ‘what would happen if you told someone to draw a falcon given a few key traits and a picture of a dragonfly as an example of an Earth aerial predator’. They were easily among the strangest creatures in their collection now, and Keshawn and Cian stared appropriately.

“He’s beautiful,” Keshawn said with awe, throwing glances at Cian like he thought he might be missing this- he was not. “I thought zoos liked to give their animals names from their homeland though?”

“We do prefer that,” Poltiff said, “and all of the animals in the Galaxy of Life area came to us named appropriately, but unfortunately there’s some names that only a handful of members of staff can pronounce due to biological differences. In those cases we either give the animal a nickname or, in this case, use the translation into English.” Somehow, the news crew managed to perk up further, finally getting a grin out of Ross. Spot, meanwhile, calmly eyed them from his perch on Poltiff’s arm.

“So even in the depths of space, people are naming animals things like ‘spot’,” Keshawn asked with a joyful laugh in his voice, and Poltiff grinned back at him.

“It turns out people are people wherever you go,” she said. “Spot here is in training to join our team of animal ambassadors. He’s not ready for the job just yet, but in his downtime he’ll be on display with our other three renkol, so visitors will still have a chance to see him when they come to the zoo.”

“My kids are going to flip.” Shaking his head and visibly resisting the urge to ask if he could pet him- it showed clear as day in the flexing of his hand- Keshawn took a quarter step back. “When can I bring them over?”

“Everything will be made available to the public when the zoo opens Friday morning,” Ross said, cutting back in as Poltiff stepped back, cooing at Spot as she turned to take him back inside. The camera followed the pair of them rather than focusing on himself and Keshawn. “From which point we have every intention to keep it open for regular zoo hours indefinitely. Everyone will have plenty of time to come out and see what the Milky Way has to offer.”

“Well, you can expect me to be the first person in the door, and the last one out of it,” Keshawn said, subtly waving to Cian that they were ending the segment. He came to the realization with a jolt, driving Ross to laughter as he spun back around to focus on Keshawn as he turned to the camera. “There you have it- Ross, Poltiff, Spot, and everyone else here at the Rosewood Grand Zoo has been working hard, and we here at Heartwood News are looking forward to getting a good look at just what they have to teach us. Isn’t that right, Trina?” The air hung empty after those words for the seconds it took for the feed to switch back over, a transfer marked with a thumbs-up from Cian. Ross and Keshawn both dropped the tension of being on air immediately.

“Hey,” Cian asked, fiddling with the camera and not quite meeting Ross’s eyes, “I know we probably can’t pet those things-”

“Renkol.”

“Yeah! Renkol! I know we probably can’t touch them, but, you know I’d love to get a shot of a feeding or something. You know, a snippet to go before commercials.” Still smiling, Ross nodded, heart warming at the way they both rose just slightly on the balls of their feet.

“Lucky you, it’s just another hour before their scheduled feeding,” he said, mentally going through the routes around the new area, “if you’ve got the time to kill, I can give you a sneak peak at their enclosure while we wait. It’s actually quite the show.” And having them there, with a camera, would be a good early test for if they could advertise feedings for public viewing. The pair grinned back at him, nodding like they were testing the attachment between head and neck.

“We can make time-”

[feeder86]

Feeder 86: The Top Ten

Can you believe that the Feeder86 ‘Orginal Gainer Stories’ blog will soon be posting the two hundredth story? I thought of many ways to celebrate. But then I stopped and realised that I would probably be best using the time to address one of the questions I get asked about most frequently. Which of the stories do I personally like the most?

This was not an easy list to make as I very rarely go back to re-read my own work after I have finished editing and posting them. This is not because I do not like them, but because I always see bits that I want to change. Nevertheless, this project was the perfect opportunity to revisit a few oldies that I remember being very proud of at the time. 

Hopefully you will see this list for what it is: a glimpse into how I write, my motivations and drive; rather than just a self indulgent pat on the back for myself. Yuck!

So, with that being said, let us begin...

#10 The Feeders’ Formula: This tale certainly had to be placed into the list. After all, it is the one that kicked off ‘Original Gainer Stories’ all those years ago. There are many amazing examples of instant body weight transformation stories out there. I felt that I needed to write this one as my contribution to the genre. It went down well at the time. I swiftly wrote a Part Two, then followed it up with others (The Feeders’ Formation, The Feeders’ Formalities, The Feeders’ Foreclosure, The Feeders’ Forecast, The Feeders’ Former Years), becoming something of an ongoing saga in recent years; focusing on the different Feeders from that very first meeting. As a writer who sometimes struggles to find the ending, these are wonderful to write as they all have the same inevitable conclusion. There is also so much freedom to be had when you’re working with characters who are pretty much pure evil. I know so much more about the Feeders than I’ve ever written down, so it is great to tease out those little details with each new installment. The newest of these tales (The Feeders’ Foreplay) was the darkest yet, but seems to have provoked a very favourable reaction from many. Who knows what the Feeders may get up to next? I do! And you can find out too, once we start a whole new sweeps season of stories this April! Come with me into The Feeders' Fortress!

#9 Only One: Where do I start? Only One has my absolute favourite type of feeder. Ben is big, sexy and very in control. He’s one of those rare types of guys who always stays on top and is a step ahead of absoultely everyone he meets. Who wouldn’t fall for him? I certainly did! In fact, I loved him so much that I wrote an entire prequel for him (and none of you even noticed!) Check out Rewire if you want to see how Ben became the man we know and love.

#8 The Wright Boys: The idea of a weight gain that cannot be stopped or controlled is a tempting one for many. How much easier would it be if you didn’t have to second guess your choices or face the pressure to lose weight? This was the first tale of what I see as ‘The Curses’ saga that eventually bled into many other stories (including another one on this list!) and culminated in Wright vs Beckett. However, this story remains my personal favourite of these. If you’re a fan of looking for crossovers between my stories, these are some of the most explicitly linked. I followed it up with a spin-off tale (The Wright Boys: DNA), but continue to have ideas about how I could go back to these boys in the future. Watch this space.

#7 Making Monsters: The title of this story really does give away how I felt about it at the time. This is quite the saga, spread over into not just two, but three parts! It began as a story that was very similar to Blackmailed; a tale that I had written previously about a guy voyeristically enjoying seeing his friend fatten up her boyfriend. However, this story evolved even further for me, with Tommy’s love of eating and gaining weight being both his greatest love, and his biggest shame. His denial only heightened the tension for me, and, when he does eventually give in, the gains feel all the more satisfying as a result.

#6 The Pig Feed: It’s not easy to write a gainer story where there isn’t another character spurring the events along and encouraging things. In this tale however, that role is given to a very tasty and surprisingly addictive pig feed mixture that Steve gets himself hooked on. It’s a story that I really enjoyed writing and still feel very happy with. I have considered writing more stories around this interesting feed. However, I am yet to do so; deciding (for now at least) that things are perhaps best left as they are. But, feel free to let me know your thoughts on this.

#5 Farm Boy: Whether you grew up in a big city, or a small rural community, like Hayden in this story, we can all relate to having desires and attractions that those around us don’t understand. And, thanks to how well connected we are these days, we now know what it’s like to realise that you’re not actually alone, and the whirlwind of excited emotions that follow. I enjoyed writing this story because I, quite simply, fell completely in love with Hayden. As kinky as he was, he still retained that fresh faced innocence throughout. If any of my characters were destined to be together forever, I imagine that these two would be my top choice.

#4 Keeping a Crush: This is one of those stories that I wrote in a matter of hours, and I was so pleased with it when I was done. Getting the train to go to work is not necessarily something that many Americans have to do, and so the location had to be switched to the UK (quite refreshing, I thought!). For me, it’s one of those really rare instances where placing very solid restrictions on the structure of a story (In this case, having it all take place during the commute to and from work) and finding that it actually elevates the sexual tension and mood. All scenes take place in public settings. All conversations could, in theory, be overheard. These days, so many people meet online and flirt for weeks by messaging back and forth, before they even see each other for the first time. Nowadays, for better or for worse, the actual, real fantasy is finding a connection with someone you just see in the real world; perhaps with a person you literally just met on the way to work...

If you’ve not read this one, I really would highly recommend it.

#3 To the Max: Stories with a magical element to them are either loved or hated. However, I find that this tale walks that line very successfully. Ned gets his hands on a love potion and makes straight guy, Max, fall for him. I’m sure we’ve all been there with that fantasy! However, it is in the consequences of inviting someone into your life, someone that you actually know very little about, that the entire eroticism of this story is based. I won’t spoil it for those who have not read it, but believe me when I say that things soon start getting very interesting indeed…

#2 Tommy’s Two Hundred. Don’t recognise this one? Well, that's because none of you have read it yet. 

Now, I’m not just saying this because I want you all to come back for the two hundreth story, but this is genuinely one of my absolute favourites. For my big milestone stories in the past, I have written something specifically for that event (Wright vs Beckett, The Seven Feeders of Finn). However, this is just a tale that I adored writing and decided to hold back for you all, especially for this occasion. It’s a story of domination and submission within a fairly open, but very kinky, relationship. Strapping Hunter plays the part of a very controlling feeder, making me break many of my own rules and stretching my boundaries to the absolute limits. You’ll either love him, or you’ll hate him. That’s all I’m going to say…

Also, this story is going to be the first Feeder86 story that will be fully illustrated. It’s all thanks to the amazing talents of Spellwell9 who was given an advanced copy and asked to imagine the characters in four different scenes. I cannot wait for you to see this!

Put it in your diary. All will be revealed from Friday 5th April…

#1 F80 Control: This is perhaps a controvercial choice (especially as my #1). I have previously admitted that this story strays a little from its purpose of being a gainer story. In other words, I get very caught up in the background story that is being told. However, I feel that the science fiction genre is surprisingly underused in tales of weight gain. Yet, the combination of Aritificial Intelligence and submission seemed, to me, to be the perfect blend. It really is a beast of a story if you can follow it all the way through to its conclusion. 

With the advent of improved artificial intelligence software in recent years, I felt the time was right to develop the world further, with the addition of F80 Ctrl Alt Del; a spin-off tale set slightly before the main story. Then, unable to help myself, I followed this up again with another companion story, F80: Kidnap and Control. 

The reason I chose this universe as my favourite is because this is where I am happiest writing. With AI, I don’t need to consider the morality or motivations - I know exactly what their aims are and I can see multiple ways in which it will cause conflict with humanity (and their waistlines!) I would also love to write more for this world one day, and I even left a little unused subplot in the last story that I think would provide the perfect starting-off point for another chapter. Will I ever write it? Well, we’ll have to wait and see…

So, there you have it! The the complete list!

This was a much harder exercise than I expected when I first embarked upon it. Stories like: Jiggle the Jock, Meticulous, Rule Number One, Freaks, Leftovers I and II, Ethan: The Secret Feeder and, not fogetting The Consequences I, II and III all crept in and out of the list, unfortunatley missing out on the final cut. There are many, many others, of course. But this list cannot go on forever...

So, why not tell me which ones were your favourites? Feel free to write in the comments and post a link to any other stories that you have enjoyed from myself, or from other authors. Hopefully, if we all work together, this could become a great resource for people in the future, filled with signposts and reccommendations.  

Also, don’t forget the Feeder86 Contents page where you can find links and descriptions of all the 200 stories posted so far (as well as plot outlines for upcoming tales as well). Please continue to enjoy the vast catalogue of stories, and even have a go yourself! I love supporting the many new gainer fiction writers who contact me. So please do get in touch if you need advice, or to talk through your ideas. Let’s all encourage a whole new generation of people to get typing away! I’m sure you will cheer them on just as much as I will.

Thank you to everyone who supports the stories blog here on Tumblr. Keep checking in every Friday througout April for a whole new sweeps season to celebrate this milestone. Stories will include: Tommy's Two Hundred, Train for a Gain, The Feeders' Fortress and The 1% (a companion story to The 5%). For now, I thank you all for taking time out to sit and read the very bizarre tales that sprout from my mind. You are all wonderful.

Happy 200 stories!

Feeder86

[unadulteratedsoulsweets]

A DC X DP IDEA # 36

X

Imagine dis…

No this is not the app-related prompt…

I had just introduced my youngest brother to the original Ben 10 and worked our way to the latest to show him what he was missing, so when I saw that episode…

It immediately went to Danny…

…

Danny was falling, a normal Wednesday for us readers but not normal for our resident ghost boy.

To cut the flashback short, he had just been pushed by Clockwork, to where you ask he didn’t know.

It had been a while since he had permanently entered the Realms to learn to become a king and an Ancient. An Ancient of what you ask, Space, he was a newly formed which made the other Ancients namely  Undergrowth, Frostbite, Vortex, and so on…

They were ecstatic as it had been a while since they met a new Ancient in the making, thus leading him to be pushed by CW to a space for him to not only practice his powers as an Ancient but also practice his newly formed title can help him heal his two packages. Namely, Ellie and Dan previously inhabited a clone body made by Vlad but due to its imperfections led to an early melting form. To gain a stronger body that can wind-stand their ever-growing powers, they both needed to grow into a body aka letting Danny incubate them like some sort of MPREG situation that he accidentally saw Dash’s notebook containing his fantasy writing about him and Phantom, it was a very dark day that was, it could use some work but the fact that he improved due to his sister’s tutoring, he doesn’t know what to feel.

Now he found himself in the middle of nothing with both cores in between inside himself. At first, he didn’t know what to do, the word space kept floating in his mind so stars? He asked himself, and so the first stars came forth. He was hesitant of course, usually whenever he had to use new powers usually under duress or even sometimes instinctively so now he had the time to explore his newfound powers he didn’t know where to start.

But slowly he let his instinct control his actions creating, with a flick of his writs galaxies formed, a single blink black holes were formed, a twitch here Pulsar were made, and so on… Each move and each breath made way to a new formation creating the former vast emptiness into a thriving space life with various life forms that have come first in the race of evolution. They first stayed within the confinements of their homes and in time they began reaching for the stars.

Throughout the years Danny also began to change, Danny, in his new form, is an ethereal being with enormous power. His skin is a deep, inky black that resembles the immensity of space, with constellations and galaxies quietly dancing across it. His eyes, unlike his former look, he has now customary pitch-black voids, gleaming a vivid, intense emerald that exudes alien intensity. These penetrating green eyes appear to reflect the force of the universe, continually moving and pulsing as if they hold the secrets of existence themselves. 

White accents run throughout his physique like celestial ribbons, following his limbs, torso, and face. These streaks shine like stardust, with a faint glow reminiscent of a faraway nebula. The highlights are flowing, almost as if they are shifting and moving like stars in the night sky, creating a captivating contrast against his body's deep black color. His silhouette, while humanoid, seems almost unreal—tall, imposing, and continuously emitting the faint hum of cosmic power.

Danny Phantom—now known as Alien X dubbed by the Green Lanterns who were lucky enough to witness him at the rare times he ever so twitched—floated serenely in space, his visage as unreadable as it had always been. The once-human ghost-boy had evolved into one of the universe's most powerful entities, capable of altering reality with a single thought.

During the thousands of millennia that he spent his time crafting and perfecting his new powers came with a very heavy headache. In all the time that he had spent filling the space, he had gathered enough energy for the two to create new bodies that could accommodate their growing powers, both Dan and Ellie kept on arguing inside his head about what they wanted to look like, like some sort of demented sims game. Always arguing which would look great on them, how this piece fits them better than the other.. and so on…

…

Did you ever have the instinctive feeling that something new is happening somewhere that you can't explain? Today was that day. The silent space around him was abruptly filled with the wailing of two babies. Danny had given birth, causing shockwaves throughout the universe. Alien X, as the Lanterns dubbed him, was not intended to change or reproduce. Yet here he was, cradling two small, glowing children in his arms, their bodies moving between colors and shapes, a clear indication of their limitless potential.

And the relief of Danny as the two finally settled on a form and agreed on something.

The Lantern Corps was the first to notice. The Guardians of the Universe had long feared Alien X's might, and now, with two offspring whose talents remained unknown, they were on high alert. Every Lantern, from the enraged Red Lanterns to the hope-filled Blue Lanterns, was summoned. The stakes were too high; the children had the potential to become the universe's greatest protectors or its most terrifying adversaries.

Hal Jordan headed the Green Lantern Corps, his emerald light shining through the blackness of space as he interacted with his fellow colored Lanterns as the Green Lanterns' primary representative.

Trouble had already arrived. Darkseid, the dictatorial ruler of Apokolips, and Trigon, the demonic conqueror of universes, have established an unusual alliance. Even beings of enormous strength found the promise of possessing the power to modify reality too appealing. They each coveted one of the offspring, knowing that having even one would give them an advantage over the entire cosmos.

The Lanterns fought bravely, their united lights creating a stunning display of force. Hal solicited every favor and ally he could get. Star Sapphire, Sinestro, and even Larfleeze, the ruthless Orange Lantern, heeded the summons. The battle was intense, with cosmic energy crackling across the starry sky. However, for each wave of adversaries, they vanquished, more appeared, drawn by the irresistible power and potential of the 2 new offspring of Alien X.

As the conflict continued, the Lanterns beheld something they had never seen before. Alien X moved. Danny, who had seemed unconcerned by the mayhem surrounding him, switched his attention to the fight. His normally expressionless face softened as he stared at his children, who were now cooing in his arms, unaware of the battle raging on top of his own hands.

Danny's palm began to glow, and to the surprise of all the Lanterns present, his fingers curled into a protective ball around the infants. The difference was slight yet profound. Alien X was operating independently, free of the never-ending internal argument that had before crippled him. His hands, capable of wiping out entire galaxies, were now a barrier, protecting his children from the evil that loomed over them.

Now, both enemies and heroes are trapped together within Alien X’s hands as they all watch in fascination as two beings are now being formed before their very eyes.

…

PS: If someone out there wants to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

[sugrhigh]

BOY NEXT DOOR 10 - ( c.s )

part nine

summary- you and your roommates live beside a bunch of senior hockey players, one of them being the infamous team captain chris sturniolo. he’s effortlessly flirty and undeniably attractive, but he’s also a pain in your ass. you find that you have to fight between lust and hatred as you finally get to know the boy next door, whether you want to or not.

warnings- a little angsty, swearing, comfort as well i guess, idk??? nothing crazy

a/n: i liedddd i lied i’m splitting the last part in two bc this became a little longer than anticipated. i hope u are all doing fantastic and i stg i will get the rest of this story out if its the last thing i do LMFAO (next part will give u goblins what you’ve been waiting for hehehehe)

the knocks on your front door start at around six pm the following friday. it’s surprising, because it’s rare that anyone shows up unannounced, especially right before the weekend festivities.

in fact, the last time someone did that was when chris arrived on your front porch with a bouquet of flowers to ask you on a date. you try not to think about it too much as you descend the stairs, focusing on not tripping over your feet instead.

the knocking grows louder, making it clear that whoever is waiting is rather restless.

“i’m fucking coming!” you shout as you make it to the landing, closing the final distance and yanking the door open with a huff.

when you see who it is, you’re even more out of breath. ben and connor stand before you, concern written all over both of their faces. neither of them say anything; they just exchange sheepish glances with one another like they’re unsure where to begin.

“oh—uh…hey guys. what’s up?” you try not to sound too disoriented, even though you are.

“hey…sorry to barge over here like this, i’m sure we’re not really the people you want to be seeing right now.” connor starts, shoving his hands in his pockets as he speaks.

you stay silent, because he’s not really wrong. you know that they have nothing to do with the situation, and you refuse to take it out on them, but seeing chris’s friends is a painful reminder that he still exists.

even though each week becomes a tiny bit more bearable, that doesn’t mean you’re suddenly fine and back to normal.

ben clears his throat, taking over for his friend and cutting to the chase. “look, we really need your help. i swear we wouldn’t be bothering you if it wasn’t serious.”

your eyebrows furrow further, and you’re somehow even more confused than you were when you opened the door. an anxious feeling settles in your stomach, like it’s only going to get worse from here.

“what is it?” you ask hesitantly, because you’re not sure you actually want the answer.

“it’s chris,” connor starts, eyes darting over to their house as he says it, “he’s…i don’t know, he’s just messed up. ever since things ended between the two of you he’s been completely out of it, and now he’s throwing hockey away too.”

you tilt your head to the side. “wait, what do you mean throwing it away?”

”the team confronted him after we lost on sunday and he didn’t want to hear it, so he walked away. we thought he was fronting, that he’d realize he was being an idiot, but he didn’t show up to any of our practices this week and coach is fuckin’ pissed. he won’t talk to us, or listen to anything we’re saying.” ben explains further, waving his hands around in aggravation as he speaks.

horror washes over you when you realize that they probably spoke to him about you, and that the whole team was in on it. you can feel your cheeks heating up in shame just thinking about how that conversation went, which makes you angry.

your voice comes out a lot sharper than intended when you respond. “no offense guys, but i’m not really sure what this has to do with me.”

“kind of, like, everything.” ben shoots back, though he immediately slaps a hand over his mouth once he realizes how he sounds.

connor rolls his eyes and elbows him in the hip, earning a muffled grunt. “what he means to say is that the only person that kid listens to is you. if he doesn’t snap out of it soon and go to the game tomorrow, he's gonna be kicked off the team for good. and as much as you’re on shitty terms, i don’t think you want to see him do that either.”

he’s spot on once again. you’re still hurt, but you can’t bring yourself to truly hate him. hearing that chris is taking this just as hard and is actively fucking up the rest of his career at the most critical time makes your heart feel like it’s suffocating.

you rub your eyes, letting out a long sigh as you begin to mentally prepare yourself for what you’re about to do.

“fine, i hear you, and i’ll talk to him. but i'm not making any promises beyond that.”

they both look so relieved that you actually feel kind of bad. you’re not sure if this is actually going to work, but they’ve clearly been stressing out over their friend for a while now.

you wonder if your own roommates feel the same way about you. they’re out together for happy hour after you insisted on staying home, still not in the mood to socialize. you’ve been trying not to burden them with the massive pressure you‘re feeling all of the time, but they’ve also known you for over three years now.

it’s hard to hide from the people that really know you, which chris clearly understands.

“thank you, seriously. we both owe you major, anything you want for real.” ben praises, hands pressed together as if he’s worshiping.

“yeah, we really appreciate you doing this. i’ve always known you were the best, but you somehow only get better.” connor smiles, a small glimmer of sadness in his eyes.

he straightens up after a moment, nodding over at their place as they begin to retreat. “ben and i are headed out to the bars, so if you’re not up to anything tonight, he’ll be in his room. front door’s open.”

you already feel like you’re floundering, but you nod at the two of them as if you’re just great anyways. what else can you do when you just made a vow to throw your healing out the window?

ben lingers for a moment, staying just close enough so that he can whisper under his breath. “for what it’s worth, you're the best thing that ever happened to chris. and i hope one day he can prove that he knows that too.”

you feel yourself tense up immediately. you have no idea how the hell you’re supposed to respond to that, so you don’t. he gives you a small wave as he finally turns, joining his friend so that they can make their way up the street.

you watch them until they’re gone, still frozen in place. the shock has finally kicked in, and you can’t move.

all you can think about is chris; having to look him in the face again, and listen to him say things to you that you know are going to twist the knife even deeper. it’ll probably undo all of what little progress you’ve made.

but you can’t let him mess everything else up too, not when you still love him so much. there are some things that are worth throwing yourself on the blade for, and this is one of them.

unfortunately or not, you’re going over there, and you’re going to shake some fucking sense into him like you always do.

even if it kills you in the process.

when chris hears the soft tapping on his door, he assumes it’s one of his roommates trying to persuade him off of his war path once again. he’s sprawled out in bed as if there’s not a care in the world, playing endless rounds of fortnite like he has been for the past week.

“i’m not interested in chatting.” he snaps, narrowing his irritated eyes at the tv screen in front of him.

it’s locked anyways, so they can’t get in regardless. and yet, despite this fact, the door swings open a moment later. chris is about to spiral into a complete rage until he actually looks over to see who it is.

you’re standing there with a bent paperclip in hand, a self-satisfied expression plastered on your face.

“so it actually does work, huh?”

for a second he thinks he’s hallucinating. there’s no way that you’re actually here, in his room, cracking a joke about the time that he broke in to talk to you. but he can smell your signature perfume in the air, which convinces him that this is in fact real life.

chris shoots up in bed, messing with his hair self-consciously. a furious blush is creeping up his face, because his room is a fucking disaster zone of clutter and it’s embarrassing. he wasn’t expecting anyone, especially not you.

“um—hi?” it’s more of a question than an actual greeting, even though he didn’t mean for it to come out that way.

“hi.” you reply awkwardly, eyes shifting around his room as you continue to stand in the doorway.

“you can, uh, sit. if you want.” chris stutters, moving his legs so that they’re hanging off his bed.

he straightens his comforter to make room for you, still red with shame about the mess. he has no idea why you’re here, he’s just praying that he doesn’t say anything that’ll scare you away. he wants this moment to last as long as it possibly can.

luckily enough, you actually do end up making your way over, settling on the very edge of his bed. you’re practically falling off it, trying to make sure that you keep as much distance between the two of you as possible. it breaks his heart, but he can’t say he doesn’t understand.

“i’m sure you’re confused, so i’ll just get right to it.” you start, picking at your fingernails so you don’t have to look at him.

the lump in his throat is growing by the second, but instead of showing that, he nods and attempts to choke it back down.

“your friends came over. they’re really worried about you, you know.” you continue carefully.

he barely contains an eye roll, opting to close them for a moment instead as he lets out a small breath. but he understands, seeing as he’s gone completely off the rails.

“i don’t know what to say to that.” chris replies honestly, since he’s apparently lost the ability to talk to you too.

“well, i guess you could start by telling me what the hell is going on, because you pretty much live and breathe for your team.” you’re putting it bluntly now, because you know it won’t get through to him if you don’t.

he rubs a hand over his face, trying to think of the right words. they’re not really there, but it’s been too long of a pause, and he needs to fucking speak like a normal person.

“i…my heart just isn’t in it. i’m playing like shit and it’s better if i don’t bring them down with me.”

you shake your head, completely astounded by the attitude that you’re hearing. “so you’re just going to turn your back now? when you’re weeks away from selection show and so close to a contract?”

he’s defeated; chris doesn’t know what else to do besides throw in the towel, and he also has no idea how to get you to understand that. his shoulders slump slightly as he stares at the floor.

“yeah, i guess i am.”

it’s silent for a moment, which makes him incredibly insecure. then you nudge him with your foot a little, forcing him to look over at you.

“listen, if you don’t want to play hockey anymore, that’s your decision at the end of the day. but i have to be honest with you before you do that.” you start off strong, facing him fully so that you can meet his eyes.

“the first time i ever came to your game, as someone that you actually invited, i saw you. i’d been to games before, but that night i was solely focused on you, as stupid and fucking embarrassing as that is to admit. you were electric out there, chris, and you’ve got so much talent it’s actually a bit ridiculous. i mean, you literally made me fall in love with hockey all over again,” your voice wobbles slightly—barely enough for him to notice—but it’s there.

your eyes are full of an emotion he can’t comprehend. maybe it’s because you’re feeling every single one of them, just like he is right now. he’s beginning to cry, and there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

“you’ve been putting in the work, and i know that you’d get an AHL contract from one team or another. you want it so bad it kills you, and you’re so damn close. i can’t let you give that away because of us.”

the words hit him hard, and even though his first instinct is to get defensive, there’s no point. you can read him like a book, and you know just as well as he does that his terrible performance has everything to do with your relationship.

slowly, he reaches for your hand. he can’t help it; being this close to you makes it feel like every single one of his nerves is on fire, and he has to actually feel you.

your fingers tangle together, resting on your leg. you’re stiff at first, but you relax into it as his thumb grazes your lower thigh in a calming pattern. it feels so natural, almost domestic, even after being apart for so long.

his other hand goes to your neck, pulling you forward so that your foreheads press together gently. you can smell him, feel his slightly callused palms, hear his soft breaths. it’s so overwhelming that the tears you’ve been shoving away spring to your eyes.

he knows he only gets one chance to say it, so he does.

“i love you. i love you so much that i can't focus on anything else, not with the way things are between us. and i am so, so sorry that i ever did that to you, or that i put myself in that situation in the first place. it was my own insecurity taking over, as much as that sucks to say, and it was pathetic. but i want to be with you, only you, and i always have. i mean, fuck, i’ve loved you since the moment you moved in next door, when you yelled at me out your window to put on a shirt that night.” chris chuckles slightly, sniffling a bit as he continues to brush his thumbs along your skin.

you can’t help but huff out a small laugh as well, thinking about that day. you were already frustrated after it took hours to build your dresser, and him teasing you was just the final nail in the coffin.

“the point is that i love you, and i’m sorry. i just needed you to hear me say it.” he breathes.

everything in him wants to lean in and close the rest of the space, because he misses his mouth on yours so much. teardrops roll down your cheeks slowly, and he can feel you shaking just a little bit in his grasp.

“i fucking love you too, chris, but i just…i just don’t know.” you sigh, biting down on your bottom lip hard to keep them from colliding with his.

you place a hand on his chest, pushing him away just a little bit to try and set a boundary. it’s almost worse, because now you can really see him, his face inches apart from yours.

his eyes dart down to your lips for too long, puffy from you gnawing on them, and he can feel himself slipping into that same trance he’s always in whenever he’s around you. especially after hearing those three words, whether you were cursing at him or not.

but he nods and lets his fingers fall from your neck, because he refuses to force this on you if you’re not ready. he still keeps a hold of your hand, though, for at least a little longer.

“i get it. i’ll fucking wait, i don’t care. if there’s any chance, i’d wait forever, do you understand that?”

you can’t meet his eyes as you push some of your hair over your shoulder. “i’m not sure that i do.”

“i can’t do this without you, and i don’t want to.” chris feels like he’s repeating himself, but he doesn’t care.

he squeezes your hand just a bit, and you use your free one to brush the tears from your cheeks. you finally meet his gaze again a moment later, eyes shining slightly. he can see the hesitation in them from a mile away.

“please, just come to the game tomorrow. i’ll swallow my pride and beg for forgiveness until coach lets me back on the team if you can do that for me.” he pleads, the faintest of ideas forming in the back of his mind.

you blow out another breath, but your body betrays you and you’re nodding your head before you can actually respond. he’s surprised by this, naturally.

but you knew the second the words came out of his mouth that you would say yes, so you verbalize that fact. “i’ll go. if you show up and play like you mean it, i’ll go.”

he feels himself laugh again instinctively, just because of how wrong he was. you’ll always have that fiery personality; it’s just you. he figured you’d eventually move on and find some really great guy, but he was pretty sure that he would always stay right here, dreaming of you.

“i’ll play like it’s the last game of my life, i promise.” he places his hand over his heart, knowing full well now that he’s going to put on a real show.

you pull your own from his so that you can stick your pinky out, forcing him to swear on it. you’re well aware that it’s silly, but you’ve always believed it was a little deeper than just saying it.

“pinky?” you challenge.

he smiles, linking his finger with yours without batting an eye. “pinky.”

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[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 10 - Lead Me To The Ark

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: Silly fact: Our 100,000th word is "fucking". Quite apt, in my humble opinion. Enjoy! Chapter Title is from Ghost in the Machine by SZA (ft. Phoebe Bridgers)

Word Count: 19.6k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Nine Days. Usual warnings

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, fluff, much angst, light smut, pining

Read on A03!

Chapter 9 - Chapter 11

Ben’s life had never lacked in beauty. Starting in a childhood marked by well-kept gardens and polished floors that held shiny, uptight parties, before moving to pretty girls in his youth, falling for the tricks and charms he’d learned to wield like weapons to keep their beauty near him. Eventually pretty girls changed to beautiful women, women who knew his tricks but didn’t care as long as they got what they wanted. Soldier Boy. After that, charisma, wit, and flirtation became secondary, for Soldier Boy was the weapon and there was no longer need for clever formalities to keep beauty in his life. Every beautiful thing was his, all he had to do was be Soldier Boy. Ben himself was secondary, because nobody gave a shit about Ben. It was Soldier Boy that was given beauty, and so Soldier Boy draped his life in flowers, art, women, and everything else that dared to glitter like gold.

All that beauty, from crystal to silk to marble, seemed to be pale and faded in comparison to Her. It was fucking frightening, how it suddenly became so clear that everything, every fucking thing, wasn’t even competing. Ben had climbed down the stairs as she’d snarked about his long showers, responded with his own mocking words, and then completely fucking forgotten how to breathe. She’d turn around—giving Ben a taunt he didn’t hear—and suddenly everything was just Her. Perfect, still perfect, always perfect, in a way that felt solid. Permanent and beautiful in a way that shouldn’t be earned, couldn’t be earned. That knowing didn’t stop the Thing, though. From needing to earn it. It had become impossible to keep The Things restrained, because Ben had no will to restrain it. It had told him to touch Her and hold her, so he had and refused to let go. Even when he’d gotten drugs—an opportunity that had become far too fucking rare to turn down—he’d kept some part of him against Her. When Starlight had asked Her to dance, Ben had told her to go, half because he was pretty sure Starlight might’ve started crying like a damn baby if She hadn’t, and half because fuck the Thing wanted to see Her dance. See Her with that loose happiness he’d imagined she had before Homelander.

He hadn’t been disappointed. She’d vanished into the smoke and light with Starlight for just long enough that Ben had almost stood to follow them—the Thing itching to know where She was, if she was safe—only to reappear just before he’d been about to rise from the booth. Dancing, with stupid, joyful fucking smiles and moving with the music in a way that made the Thing feral.

Ben didn’t notice the sickeningly sweet woman who’d given him the boob-drugs slide into the booth until she was right at his side.

“Where’d your pretty little bitch go, handsome?” Boob-drugs’ voice had been a low, seductive whisper in Ben’s ear, and the Thing had felt bloody at the honey-like venom of her words, the way they drawled and choked the air around him.

Ben should have given Boob-drugs want she wanted. It had been far too long since Ben had gotten his dick wet, since he’d properly fucked something that wasn’t his hand or those stupid fucking “fleshlights” She’d gotten him. She’d joked once about him destroying them in a matter of minutes, and Ben had decided only a few weeks later that She never needed to know how correct She’d been. Ben should’ve leaned into Boob-drugs, touched her like the fucking man he was, flirted with her until he was deep in her cunt on a bathroom counter. But when Boob-drugs had traced fingers up his arm and offered him sultry words, the only feeling he got was something cold crawling across his skin. The Thing not only didn’t feel satiated, but had curled up in revolt. It felt disgusting, and Ben couldn’t even fully focus on the coke as the woman had tried to pull his strings.

At some point he’d lost Her on the dance floor, and any stupid semblance of goddamn manners or entertaining Boob-drugs had been thrown out the window. He’d stood and walked away as Boob-Drugs was mid-sentence, and didn’t bother to look back. Ben had searched for Her for long, painful minutes, and finally spotted her as she moved through the crowd, a lost look on her face.

They needed to leave, Ben had decided, because the happiness had drained from Her face and the fatigued emptiness was beginning to creep back in. The moment he’d pulled Her into the night air—wind moving her hair and streetlights making her glow—exhaustion had begun to cloud her eyes quickly, and Ben had smiled to himself as She passed out at his side. She had held herself to him tightly in her sleep, from the car, to the house, and well into the night. At one point She’d started thrashing in the bed and Ben had almost woken her up—unsure if it was a nightmare or simply restlessness—but no fire had leaked from Her body, and no sounds of pain had left her mouth, so he’d pulled Her into him and fallen asleep with Her curled at his side.

When She’d left the bed in the morning, he’d found it impossible to fall asleep again. The Thing had grown cold, and Ben could hear Her heartbeat down the stairs, hear it stutter before it began to push to rapid pace. He’d followed it down to living room, almost thankful for the fucking excuse. He’d watched the smoke rising from Her body, heard the fucking hollowness in her voice as she spoke, and seen red. Then She’d broken in front of him one more goddamn time, fallen asleep with her head to his chest, and—though it was hardly afternoon—laid them down on Her bed and slept at her side.

She was awake when his eyes opened. Watching him in silence, lying on her side, heartbeat even and soft.

“Hi.” She whispered, and a small smile played on her mouth.

“Hi.” Ben’s voice was a rough croak, and Her smile grew. “What fucking-“

“5pm.”

He frowned. “We slept the whole goddamn day?”

She tensed, looking away from him. “Most of it, yeah.” The gnawing of her lip began. “I’m-“

“If you say ‘I’m sorry’, I’ll fucking kill you.”

 “I wasn’t going to.” She mumbled, and Ben rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t.”

“Sure, and I’m the fucking President.”

 She glared at him. “I was going to say that I’m hungry.”

“Then go eat,” Ben shrugged, even as the Thing began to protest at the thought of Her leaving. “You don’t need to fucking wait for me to do that.” 

“It’s my turn to heat dinner.” She rolled onto her back, facing the ceiling with a huff. “I need to know what you want.”

Ben laughed. “I don’t give a shit, Sunshine. Food is food.”

 “You say that now,” She turned her head to look at him, a incredibly fucking dramatic look on Her face. “But I would’ve made the one thing you didn’t want and you’d have thrown a hissy fit.” 

“I don’t throw ‘hissy fits’.”

“Fine, temper tantrum.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he grunted, hauling himself to a sitting position. “I don’t throw hissy fits or temper tantrums or any other pussy shit.”

She laughed. “You’re literally doing it right now.”

When Ben only grunted, she giggled again, a smug and weightless sound that made the Thing so fucking pleased. He looked down at Her in fake anger, and found that she was still flat on her back, watching him with a teasing smile and pretty eyes. The Thing wanted to pull Her into his side, to make sure that she stayed light and amused and thoughtlessly relaxed forever.

“Someone’s grumpy.” Her smile was toothy and wide, and the Thing wanted to touch Her lips. “Was nap time too short?”

He rolled his eyes, forcing himself to stand from the bed. “Go fucking eat, brat.”

“What do you want?” She called as he moved to Her bathroom. “I’ll make you oatmeal, Ben, I swear to God-“

Ben turned right before the door. “Fucking hell, bagels. Make bagels.”

“You had a bagel two days ago.”

“It’s a free country, Sunshine, I’m allowed to eat a bagel for multiple fucking days.” Ben glared at Her. “And you ate that bagel.”

“You left it out.”

“It was my fucking bagel.”

“Jesus, fine, we’ll have bagels.” She rolled her eyes, sitting up on the bed and muttering under her breath. “Fucking man baby.”

“You know I fucking heard that.” Ben snapped, she stuck her tongue out at him, and the Thing pushed at his stomach.

He closed the door before She could retaliate, listening to her shuffle around the room for several minutes—doing what he had no fucking clue—before her heartbeat faded down the stairs.

Ben had never actually used Her bathroom before. He’d always walked down the hall to his, never needing to piss or shit so bad he couldn’t just fucking hold it. Any time he did leave Her room for his own, it was to fuck his hand behind a locked door, to indulge fantasies of Her in the very room he’d just left. Ben hadn’t even fully thought about what he was doing when he’d walked into Her bathroom, it had felt like the most goddamn normal thing in the world. Now, flushing the toilet and looking around, Ben hated how fucking satiated the Thing felt. Surrounded by Her in tiny and stupid ways, seeing little damn pieces of her everywhere. The shampoo that he always smelled on Her, the discarded towel on the floor, the half-empty hand soap placed beside her toothbrush, drying on the counter. A toothbrush he was fucking jealous of for being in her mouth, like a fucking creeping pussy who’d never touched a woman.

When Ben exited the bathroom—fully intending to follow Her to the kitchen—he did quick sweep of the room, saw Her outfit from the night before hanging out of the hamper, and realized she’d been fucking changing. With him only a door away. The Thing rumbled with images of Her peeling off her clothes, moving smoothly through the room in nothing but her underwear, maybe even pulling those off too—

Ben made a detour to his room, finding relief in a fantasy of Her at his side, laying on her back with that perfect smile, and him climbing on top of her and fucking her until she was numb with pleasure. Or pulling Her onto his lap and letting her grind on him until she orgasmed with her head against his chest. Or Her rolling down, taking him in her mouth and him shooting down her throat-

He came, with a jerk of his hips, a low grunt, and imagined sounds of Her moaning in his ear.

Once he’d cleaned up—he had to find a less fucking time consuming way to do this—Ben descended the stairs and found Her at the bookshelf, pushing through its contents with a focus, narrowed intent.

“What the fuck are you-“

“There’s no fucking cookbooks in the goddamn house!” Her voice was frustrated, glaring at the books with a scowl Ben had only seen directed at himself or Butcher. “Fucking CIA didn’t think we might want just one, one cookbook? They gave us a printed copy of the constitution, but not one fucking cookbook?”

“Why the hell would you want a cookbook?” He watched her pull another two books from the shelves, making an annoyed huff before throwing them onto the floor. “You can’t cook.”

“I know that!” She snapped. “You think I don’t fucking know that?”

“Then why are you being so goddamn dramatic-“

 Ben was cut off by a copy of Shakespeare’s Complete Works flying at his face.

Her attention had already returned to the bookshelf by the time Ben was rubbing the fading red mark, her movements frantic. “I want to learn, ok? I need to learn to cook just one, shitty ass meal.”

“Fucking why?” He watched Her with vague amusement. “Did you hit your head last night?”

A pout formed on Her lips, and the Thing wanted to suck on them.

“I thought you’d be fucking pleased, Benjamin, that I’m finally conforming to what’s expected of my gender.” She grumbled, and Ben snorted.

“You are not a hallmark of your gender, Sunshine.” This time, Ben managed to dodge The Great American Song Book, but not Atlas Shrugged.

“Fuck you,” She snapped. “Go fucking eat your bagel, you cunt.”

He raised his brows at Her. “You made the bagel?”

“Of course I did, dumbass,” She grumbled, not sparing Ben a glance. “It’s in the kitchen, you can eat it or just shove it up your ass for all I care.”

Ben snorted, but wandered into the kitchen to find that She had indeed left a bagel on the counter, even fucking spread it with that damn strawberry cream cheese and placed a handful of napkins beneath the plate.

“I didn’t ask you to use that pink shit.” Ben mumbled, mouth full as he returned to the living room, standing in the doorway. “And five napkins is fucking overkill.”

Though Her back was turned from him, Ben could fucking feel her eye roll.

“You love that pink shit, you ass. And a thank you would be nice.”

“And the napkins?”

“You’re getting crumbs literally everywhere at this very second. Five was a generous lowball.”

Ben scoffed, ignoring the tiny pieces of bagel he could feel in his beard. “Fuck off, you’re not even looking at me.”

“Don’t have to, I can hear your loud-ass chewing.” She threw another book to the growing pile on the floor, hands finding her hips as she huffed at the near-empty shelf. “Is there a bookshelf in your room?”

“I don’t fucking know.” Ben wasn’t even in his room enough to have any idea, and when he was, books were the least of his concerns.

“Can I check?”

“Why are you fucking killing yourself about this?” He watched Her overly tense back rise and fall in short breaths. “I was kidding about you hitting your damn head, but you’re being fucking weird.”

“No I’m not,” She mumbled, turning with a frown on her face. “And what’s fucking weird is you not jumping for joy that we’re not going eat bagels or mac and cheese for the rest of our damn lives.”

He gave Her a mocking smile. “Well, if you’re doing it for me, Sunshine, then by all means-“

Ben caught Les Misérables right before it hit his throat.

“Can you just,” She sighed, watching Ben with a sadness in her eyes he didn’t understand. “Can you please not be a dick about this.”

Ben nodded slowly, narrowing his eyes at Her as she let out a heavy breath. “You’d tell me if something was wrong,” he said Her name firmly. “If I needed to be ready for some shit.”

“Yeah,” She gave him a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I would.”

“Good,” Ben grunted, even as the Thing wanted to pull Her right into his chest. Even as he didn’t fully believe her. “There’s a cookbook on the top shelf.”

She blinked. “What, no there’s not. I checked-“

“Not well,” he said with a smirk. “I can fucking see it from here.”

“If you’re lying just to be an ass, I’m going to kill you, Pretty Boy.” She grumbled as she turned, and Ben waited while she scanned the highest shelf, chuckling to himself when she let out an infuriated sound that meant she’d found it.

“Told you,” Ben grinned widely as She pulled it down, turning back to face him with a sour face.

She flipped him off with one hand, holding the book with the other. “Cunt.”

“Brat.”

She wrinkled her nose, flipping through the pages with an adorable intensity. Ben just watched Her, the Thing pulling against him as her face lit up with a full smile.

“Found it!” She looked up at Ben, smile growing, and the Thing whined.

Ben tried to push it down, down, down and away from his chest, refusing to be a pussy who allowed his emotions to be controlled by the smile of one fucking woman.

One fucking perfect woman, the Thing reminded him, and a warmth spread through him against his fucking will.

“Congratulations,” he said dryly. “All by yourself too.”

“All by yourself-“

Ben gave her a flat look. “All by yourself as well.”

She rolled her eyes, pushing past him to walk down the hall. Ben trailed after Her like a fucking puppy. “What are you doing?” He called ahead, and she didn’t break pace for a second as she responded.

“We’re cooking dinner, dumbass.”

“We?”

“We.” They stopped in the kitchen, and she threw Ben another insufferably perfect smile. “I did not just destroy the living room to eat a bagel. We’re doing this tonight.”

Ben glared at her. “You keep fucking saying we-”

“Fine, Pretty Boy. I’m cooking dinner and you’re standing in the kitchen in case I need to yell at someone.”

“Hm,” he grunted. “I want another bagel.”

She gave a small laugh. “Deal.”

They shook on it—The Thing rolling around inside Ben as their hands touched—and She set to work.

Ben had seen a lot of car crashes. Watched a lot of bombs explode and a lot of people die.

While this was worse in quite a few ways, it was also a lot fucking funnier.

“What the fuck does ‘veggies are tender’ mean?” She snapped. “How can a vegetable be tender.”

“Maybe you need to arouse it,” Ben shrugged, taking a large bite of his second bagel. “I can do that for you.”

“You’re a gentleman,” She muttered, and he grinned, shooting her a wink.

“Are you doubting my abilities, Sunshine?”

She scoffed, but the Thing rumbled as her heart stuttered. “To make vegetables horny? Yeah, I think I am.” She narrowed her eyes at the book. “How ‘thin’ is thinly sliced?”

“How the fuck would I know?”

“Didn’t think you would, dumbass, I was thinking out loud.” She stuck her tongue out at him. “And I think they just mean like, small?”

She looked up at Ben for confirmation—despite Her calling him a dumbass less than five seconds ago—and the Thing started trying to roll around in his chest. “I don’t give a shit.”

“Helpful,” She snapped, dumping out a bag full of bell-peppers onto the counter, and he grinned.

Ben shoved the remainder of his bagel in his mouth, watching Her cut up the peppers—and then the onions—as if she was torturing them for information. Little bits and pieces were flying everywhere, he was almost fucking positive she cut herself at least twice, and he could hear Her mumbling threats to the onions about Her making them cry instead.

He snorted as She threw the vegetables into the pot, flipping them off as she turned on the stove. “How long do I have to wait for you to just give the fuck up?” 

“Forever,” She snapped. “Neither of us are going anywhere until these vegetables are tender as fuck.”

“I don’t know why you’re even doing this vegetable shit, you’re immortal now, you don’t need to be healthy-“

Ben managed, but only fucking barely, to dodge the knife as it flew at his face.

“Shut up.” She snapped. “Or I won’t give you any when I’m done.”

“Promise?” He mocked, and she picked up a second knife. “Jesus fucking Christ, fine. What are you even making?” He grunted, reaching to grab the cookbook.

She snatched it back and far from his hand. “It’s a surprise.”

“A fucking surprise?” He snorted. “Why?”

“Because.” She held the cookbook with white knuckles, and Ben rolled his eyes.

“Shitty ass surprise,” he grumbled, and She gave him one last glare before turning her anger down to the steak defrosting on the counter.

Over the next half hour, She managed to cut up the steak through a process of vulgar threats, curses, and throwing three more knives at Ben—only two of which he deserved. Once she’d shoved the steak into the oven—Ben had helpfully suggested She just use her own fucking fire and She’d asked if he had any interest in the house burning down—she picked up the pot of vegetables and walked over to where Ben sat at the counter.

“Tender?” She extended the pot for him to look at, frowning at its contents.

The vegetables were soft, and a little brown. Ben had no fucking clue what that meant in terms of “tender”.

“Fucking sure,” he watched the crease on Her forehead deepen, and the Thing wanted to kiss right over it until it vanished.

She looked up at him, lips pulling down, but nodded and dumped the vegetables into a bowl. After giving them one last glare, She dropped into the seat next to Ben with a heavy sigh. “The steak won’t be ready for ten minutes,” she mumbled, fingers tapping on the counter.

Ben shrugged, trying to control the Thing rumbling comfortably in his chest at Her arm brushing his. “Are you going to tell me what the fuck is wrong now?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” She muttered, and the tapping picked up.

“You’re lying. It might not be something I need to prepare for, both something is fucking up with you.” He watched Her scowl at nothing. “Is it your sister?”

The tapping picked up. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

He said Her name firmly. “You need to fucking tell her you’re alive.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you-“

“Just fucking drop it, Ben, ok?!” She snapped. “You’re not going to change my mind, so just fucking drop it.” She took a deep breath, and the Thing clenched in Ben’s chest. “Please, just let it go.”

He grunted, the Thing flipping as She looked up at him. “Fine.”

She nodded, relief crossing her face as the tapping slowed. “Thank you.” She paused, eyes searching his face. “Do you want me to do more of the PTSD treatment tonight?”

“Tomorrow,” he said, not having missed the bags under Her eyes and poorly hidden yawns. “You need to rest.”

She frowned. “I’ve literally been resting all day.”

“You were tossing and turning all of last night, Sunshine.” He said flatly, and She blinked at him, heart picking up.

“What, what are you talking about-“

“It’s not a big fucking deal,” Ben frowned at Her wide-eyed expression. “You were just rolling around a shit ton. Didn’t seem very restful.”

“Oh,” she mumbled. “Sorry.”

“I didn’t fucking need to leave the bed, Sunshine, I don’t give a shit.” He shrugged.

She tilted her head at him. “Would you have?”

“What?”

“If it had bothered you, would you have gone to sleep in your room?” She examined his face, and Ben could hear the chewing of her lips.

“Why the fuck does that matter?”

“Well, um, I just don’t remember the last time you actually slept in your own bed.” She said sheepishly, suddenly avoiding his gaze. “If you want to, you don’t have to stay in my room all the time-“

“Do you want me to go back to my room?” Ben asked, and his voice was harsher than he intended. The Thing was scraping at him, gripping at his throat a the very fucking idea of Her not wanting him, of Her sending him to be without her-

“No!” Her voice was panicked, and Ben blinked in surprise. “I don’t want you to go back, but if you want to-”

“I don’t,” Ben grunted, the Thing breathing in relief as he tried to sound like less of a desperate pussy. “I mean, I’m fucking fine staying there.”

“Okay.” She gave him a small smile, and the Thing felt light, even as she stood from her seat. “Steak,” She said, and Ben realized he’d started to frown as She moved.

“Whatever,” he grunted, and watched Her move through the kitchen. She threw together whatever shit she was trying to make, finally stood straight—a smug look on Her face—and turned with a mess of cheese, meat, and bread on a plate.

“I did it,” She was beaming at him, holding the “food” proudly, and any comments about how Ben was pretty fucking sure She’d just made a bioweapon died in his throat as the Thing tried to escape him.

“Congratulations.” He huffed, and glanced at the sludge in her hands. “What the fuck is it.”

“Cheesesteak.”

Ben frowned. “Cheesesteak?” 

She picked up the cookbook, dropping it in front of him as she sat back at his side. “Philly Cheesesteak, with peppers and onions.” She read aloud, pointing to the page with a grin. “Medium difficulty.”

The Thing was pounding at him, and Ben couldn’t stop himself from asking. “Philly Cheesesteak because?” At the flush of Her face, he pushed further. “Why Philly Cheesesteak, Sunshine? Any particular reason?”

“Shut up,” She muttered.

“Hm,” Ben teased, his own smile growing. “Does it have something to do with me-“

“Yes, you cunt. It’s because you’re from Philly.” She snapped, not looking at him. “Don’t be a fucking dick about it, I just wanted to make something I thought you’d like.”

“You only made one serving,” Ben pointed out as the Thing started roaring with a painful need to hold her. “And I already ate.”

“Oh, fuck off. We both know this is going to taste like shit.” She wrinkled her nose at the plate. “I’m going to make it for you when I can actually make it somewhat good.” She paused, heart faltering slightly. “If you want me to.”

Ben shrugged, and the Thing roared. “Food is fucking food. I’ll never say no to a pretty lady making me some.”

She hummed, and her heart picked up a little faster than it had been before. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he looked between Her and the plate. “Now eat that so we can go the fuck to bed.”

She wrinkled her nose at him, but began to eat in small bites. “It’s not terrible.” She said through a mouthful. “I’ve eaten worse.”

Ben grunted, watching Her chew and swallow. “Are you going to shower?”

“Huh?”

“Before bed,” he said, ignoring the way She licked her lips clean of food and how it made his gut warm.

“Are you saying I smell bad, Benjamin?” She teased, face all comfortable and happy. “That’s not very nice.”

He glared at Her. “I fucking want to shower, brat. And since you always whine about how long I take, I wanted to know if you need hot water.”

“Oh,” She blinked at him. “That’s, that’s really sweet.”

“Shut up,” Ben muttered. The Thing was powerful and uncontrollable in him at Her words, like a fucking pussy. He wasn’t fucking sweet, She just always got all pouty when the water was cold and it made him fucking frustrated. She would sulk around and be fucking grumpy and it made the Thing tight in his lungs, made him feel an edge he hated. She still hadn’t even fucking answered his question, so Ben poked her shoulder and she looked up at him with a full mouth. “Well?”

She swallowed roughly. “Oh, uh, yeah I think I am.” She frowned, and Ben could hear Her thoughts turning in Her head.

“Spit it out.” He prompted.

“What?”

“You look like you have a stupid question, and you’re going to fucking explode if you don’t ask it.”

“I won’t explode-“

Ben said Her name flatly. “Yeah, you will. So spit it out.”

She sighed. “You have to promise not to-“

“I know the damn drill, Sunshine. I promise not to mention it again if the answer is no. Now stop being a fucking pussy and ask the question.”

“If you want, and you don’t have to-“ She took a deep breath, and the words began to fall out of Her. “I’d be okay with it if you moved your clothes into my room. Or like some clothes. Whatever you want. I just think it might be easier, if you think you want to stay there. And I do want you, I mean I like you there, so, if you want, you can move your stuff into my room.”

Ben stared at Her, watching him with a nervous expression, heart pounding in Her chest. The Thing was rioting inside him. She wanted him in her room, in her space. She wanted him there, wanted things to be easier for him. For him to stay with her. She liked him there. With her. Ben cleared his throat, and spoke before he could even really think.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?” She said cautiously. “Does yeah mean, like, yeah I don’t want, or yeah I do want to, or yeah I’ll think about it-“

“I’ll do it,” Ben said, trying to sound as casual as he fucking could with the Thing trying to tell him to pick Her up and place her on the counter and make all that stupid fucking doubt leave her face because what the hell was it even there for in the first place-

“Okay.” She took another bite of Her food. “Then maybe you can shower now and move your stuff when I’m showering?”

“Sure,” Ben stood, and She turned her attention fully to her plate. There was a little thing of melted cheese on her lip, and he wanted to brush it off with his thumb.

“Don’t take a year.” She said, and Ben swallowed as her tongue swept out to pull the cheese into her mouth.

He coughed, forcing himself to move away from the counter. “Fuck off,” he muttered, and picked up his pace out of the kitchen as She giggled behind him.

It was a race against his own fucking self-control to get to the shower and take care of himself before the Thing made him turn around and prove to Her that there was no goddamn reason she should’ve been unsure. Make Her smile and pull her tongue into his own mouth, maybe spread Her out on the counter and taste her-

Ben practically ripped his clothes off, managing to climb into the shower before the Thing consumed him.

They were back on their bed, Her lying on her back with a bright smile and Ben sitting at her side. 

“Nap time too short?” She asked again, and this time Ben didn’t scoff or stand from the bed.

He smirked back down at Her, and reached out, running a thumb over her lips. “I’m wide awake, Sunshine. But I can think of a few ways to tire me out.”

Her mouth fell further open, and she let out a small sound. “Like what?” Her voice was barely a whisper, and Ben moved his hand tangle in Her hair, cupping her head as he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her into his lap.

“Whatever you want, beautiful.” He watched Her eyes widen, and Ben could feel the heat of her cheeks against his hand. “I have some ideas, but I’m open to suggestions.”

Moving his hand down, Ben traced a line from Her neck to her collarbone, dropping it all the way to her ass and lowering his head to kiss along her neck. She started to whimper, and he could feel the sounds escaping from her against his lips.

“Ben,” She said breathlessly, her hands finding his hair. “You-“ She let out a loud moan, head falling back as he squeezed her with one hand, tracing patterns along her skin with his other.

“Me, what?” He said Her name into her skin. “What do you want me to do?”

She dropped her hands from his hair, pulling his head up to look at Her, eyes scanning his face for only a second before she was kissing him. Long and desperate, all teeth and tongue and deep groans into each other. When She pulled back for air, Ben nipped at her lower lip and raised his hand from her waist, running his thumb over its swell.

“I want you.” She whispered, her own hand holding his against her face. “Can I have you?”

Ben pulled Her back to him, kissing her deeply until her grip was tight and she was grinding down on him. When he pulled back, he answered firmly, with no room for her to doubt. “You already fucking do.”

She nodded slowly, and suddenly she was touching him. Palming Ben through his pants, smiling perfectly at his hardness against her hand. “Where do you want me?” She asked, a beautiful fucking taunt. “You can take me right here, or at the wall. You can use my mouth, or my pussy, or I can just use my hand?”

He groaned Her name. “Fucking hell-“

“What do you want me to do, Ben? Where do you want to have me?”

Ben came, shouting Her name into the steam of the shower. Only as the high faded did it finally fucking occur to him the mistake he’d just made. He had no fucking excuse to return to his room and indulge the Thing anymore, no good reason to lock himself behind a door she wouldn’t enter and fuck his hand to the thought of Her.

He could back out. He could tell Her he’d changed his mind, he wanted to keep their shit separate, that keeping it together was just too fucking intimate and he didn’t want her to have that part of him.

Liar, the Thing hissed into him. You want Her to have every fucking part of you. You’re just too pussy to tell her.

No, he fucking didn’t. He needed to call it the fuck off, before he did something fucking stupid or insane-

She’d be so sad, The Thing snapped. You’d be fucking breaking Her.

She was a grown ass woman. She’d survive.

Would you?

Ben turned off the shower, jerking the handle clean off the wall. He dropped in on the tile floor, changed fast, and stomped down the hall to where Her heartbeat had moved— fully fucking ready to tell her he’d changed his mind and would probably just sleep in his own damn room tonight—only to open the door and find her sitting up at the headboard, already in pyjamas, eyes drooping as she read a small book.

“I thought you wanted to shower,” he said gruffly, and She just sighed, not looking up at him.

“Were you ever actually convicted of treason?” She asked. “Because if you weren’t, I’ve been calling you an enemy of the state for no reason.”

 “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Apparently, someone can’t be held guilty for treason with two witnesses or a confession.” 

“That’s not better, brat.”

She held up her book for Ben to read Constitution of the United States of America spelled out in pointlessly fucking fancy letters on the cover. “I was cleaning up downstairs, and realized I’ve never actually read the whole thing.”

“Yeah, most people haven’t.” Ben said wryly. “Only fucking pussy ass nerds bother with that shit.”

“Aren’t you America’s Son?” 

“Yeah, but I’m a fucking man who has a life outside of books. What happened to your fucking shower?”

She shrugged. “I’m not that dirty. I’ll shower in the morning, before we do the PTSD treatment.”

Ben grunted, not moving from the door. “I still think you’re not actually doing fucking shit with that.”

“I still don’t fucking care.” She finally looked up at Ben, and the Thing stared punching against him like a fucking pussy. “Why are you just standing there, you weirdo.”

“What?” Ben frowned at Her question, trying to fight the Thing telling him to go drop next to her, let her lean against him. “The fuck are you-“

“You’ve been standing at the door for like five minutes.” She said pointedly, folding the book and placing it on her bedside table. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fucking fine, Sunshine.” He grunted, and the rest of his will fucking crumbled at the goddamn soft look on Her perfect face. “I just wanted to know if I should wait for you to shower before I start moving my shit.”

“Oh,” She blinked, and started to stand. “I can help you-“

“No.” Ben cut Her off quickly. She hadn’t been in his room for more than a few minutes at a time since he’d started sleeping in hers, and some part of him was convinced she would walk in a fucking smell his cum lingering. At Her frown, he gave a short, gruff explanation of “you’re comfortable, I can fucking move clothes my damn self,” and left the room before she could respond.

It only took two trips to move all his shit, and after shoving into the drawers at Her instructions, apparently doing it wrong despite following Her every word, and Her doing it the “correct way”—which was the same way he had fucking done it—he dropped on the mattress, sitting upright as She crawled into hers.

“Night, Pretty Boy.” She mumbled through a yawn, and her eyes dropped closed before Ben could respond.

Ben didn’t remember falling asleep. He’d watched Her breathe peacefully at his side, listened to the lazy rhythm of her heart, and when she’d curled into his side, Ben had laid down and held Her to his chest. Almost like he’d only blinked, the room became full of light creeping through the curtains, and She was gone from the bed.

He could hear the shower running from the bathroom, her heartbeat smothered by the fall of the water. Unwilling to sit here, desperate for Her to return to his side like a fucking pussy, Ben stood and made his way to the kitchen, putting on the coffee and scowling at the pot as it took a million goddamn years to brew.

After impossibly long minutes Ben heard the water stop, and fucking cursed himself for the intensity of how he listened to Her heart upstairs. She shuffled around, the time stretching longer, and Ben felt the Thing sigh in relief as she finally began the walk down the stairs.

Ben glanced at Her as she entered the kitchen. “You’re up.”

“Fucking obviously,” she mumbled, stopping at his side. “Coffee?”

The pot gave a pathetic fucking sputter. “I think it’s broken.” Ben muttered, and there was another weak crackling sound in response.

“Hm,” She reached past him, opening the top of the machine. Peering forwards, She sighed. “Ben.”

“What?” He snapped, and She rolled her eyes, pulling the empty pot from its place and moving to the sink.

“You didn’t put any water in it, dumbass.”

Ben scowled. “I just fucking woke up, you try-“

“I’m not mad,” She said lightly, glancing over her shoulder with amusement. “I’m just saying it’s not broken, and that’s why.”

“Fuck off,” he grumbled, watching Her pour the water into the top of the coffee maker.

She only smiled at him, and even fake rage felt fucking impossible.

They didn’t talk much over breakfast, Ben trying not to watch the way Her damp hair hung around her face, or the bob of her throat when she swallowed her cereal. When the coffee had finished, She’d stood and poured two mugs, dropping one next to Ben’s plate and holding the other tightly between two hands.

“Living room?” She asked, continuing when Ben only frowned at her. “For the PTSD.”

He made a passive sound, drinking his coffee in a chug. “I don’t give a fuck.”

“What an amazing contribution to my efforts,” She muttered, and Ben winked at her.

“Does the exactly same amount of jack fucking shit wherever, Sunshine.”

She wrinkled her nose at him, poking her spoon around in the bowl. “You’re going to eat your words, Pretty Boy.” Her words seemed more targeted to the soggy cereal than Ben. “Just fucking wait.”

After dumping the dishes in the sink—Ben would fucking wash them later, and no amount of Her glaring at him would make him do it now—they dropped on the couch in those same fucking positions that had made the Thing loud and satisfied. This time was no fucking better, with Her gentle hands back in Ben’s hair and her perfect face only fucking inches away.

“I have a question,” She said abruptly, her hands hardly settled against his head. She didn’t wait for him to nod before she continued, speaking without meeting his eyes. “How did you know about Moon River?”

“Moon River?” Ben repeated slowly, watching Her overly controlled face as She gave a small nod.

“I just-“ She gave him a quick, nervous look. “I heard you humming it yesterday, during my, uh, meltdown. I never told you about it.”

He frowned. “What would there be to tell me?”

“How do you know about it?” She said firmly, finally fucking looking at him with raised brows. “And I asked first.”

“You tap it,” Ben said stiffly, and She tilted her head at him. “When you’re about to lose your shit.”

“And you recognized it based on tapping?” She said doubtfully, eyes narrowing. “It’s not a rhythmic song.”

“I took he a fucking bit to realize what it was, but it’s not my fault you can’t barely keep a fucking beat.” “There’s no beat in that song.”

Ben shrugged. “You do the verses. Stop trying to fucking avoid my question.”

“I’m not avoiding your question,” She grumbled, looking back up to his head. “You’re just making no sense.”

Ben said Her name flatly, and she gave an annoyed huff.

“It was my mother,” She snapped. “Her favorite song. She sang it all the time when I was a kid, it’s the only song she never made me perform, and it makes me feel safe.”

“Perform?” He frowned. “The fuck do you mean perform?”

She sighed. “Doesn’t matter.”

“The fuck it doesn’t”

“It really doesn’t,” She cut him off shortly. “It’s never something I’ll have to do again, so it just doesn’t. You won’t fucking care about it, Ben. Trust me.”

“Fucking try me, Sunshine.” She looked back down at Ben, and he gave her a challenging glare. “Don’t put words in my goddamn mouth.”

“If I do,” She said, holding his gaze. “You’re not allowed to be a dick.”

“Deal.”

“Promise?”

“Fucking hell,” he muttered. “I promise.”

“Okay,” She took a deep breath, glaring at his forehead as she spoke. “My parents divorced when I was young. It was violent, messy. I had to testify in court. My mom got full custody, because my dad had shit credit and my mom was an amazing actress. Showed up all running mascara and soft words, like She hadn’t just threatened me on the car ride over. She remarried real fast, like suspiciously fucking fast, to a rich, political dynasty asshole. Dude was a Connecticut senator when they got married, and he somehow got elected governor while I was gone. He would put on these stupid parties. With dancers and champagne towers and chocolate fountains. One of my brothers would give a speech, the other would play piano, my sister would dance, and I would sing. Sometimes they’d hold an auction for what song I performed, and the only song my mother didn't allow me to perform was Moon River. It was our song, her song. It reminds me that there was a least one thing, one stupid fucking thing, that made me more important to her than the money. I mean,” She gave a dry, hollow laugh. “She probably would’ve caved for enough money, but I left before she could.”

Ben watched Her, the Thing scraping to hold her. “What made you leave?”

The silence before She spoke was torture. The Thing needed to know what her final straw had been. What line had been crossed, so he would never go fucking near it, fucking walk as far away from it as he could until She never even had to fear it.

“She tried to keep me from leaving.” Her voice was soft. “I was fourteen, about to start high school. She tried to send me to some dog shit prep school, said I needed to work on my manners and being more fucking lady-like for when I graduated. I told her grades were important to get into college, she told me I wouldn’t be going to college. Said I was too pretty to have to worry about a job, pretty enough that men would overlook my temperament.”  She snorted. “I told her I wanted a job, I wanted to go to college. She told me to fuck off now, because she’d lock me in the house if I didn’t. So I fucked off. I moved in with my dad. Dude lived in a dogshit apartment with rats and asbestos and loud neighbors, but I never had to perform again. I could leave whenever I wanted, I was fucking free.” A shadow crossed Her face, her hand gripping Ben’s face tighter. “I was free.”

“Did they fucking look for you?” Ben felt the Thing grow taut in him, straining for the clouds forming in Her eyes. “When Homelander-“

She cut him off, shaking her head. “He faked my death. Left a note, nobody questioned it further.” Smoke curled around them, and Her heart was uneven and quick. “He used to tell me that I was better with him, he cared more than anyone could, and he would tear the world apart to get me back if I left him.” She took a shaky breath, and the Thing felt heavy in Ben’s chest.

“You’re not going back,” Ben said lowly, and Her eyes fell to his. “I fucking mean it.”

“I know,” She said quietly. “I trust you.”

The pain on Her face made Ben want to make Homelander fucking bleed and bleed until he died a painful, pathetic fucking death.

“I think we’re done.” He pulled Her hands down from his face, and She frowned at him.

“What do you mean, it’s barely been thirty minutes-“

“You’re still tired, Sunshine.” He says firmly. “We’re done.”

“But-“

“Nope, done.” Ben pushed Her hands to her lap. “We’ve got other shit to do, Sunshine. You’ve got to practice your cheesesteak.”

She scowled. “It’s your night to make dinner, cunt. You’re not getting out of it just because I’m trying to learn to cook.”

“Well, you can fucking practice for lunch, and I’ll still do dinner.”

“I chose what you make.”

“Are you fucking negotiating?”

“Yep,” she gave him a fake-sweet smile. “I choose what you make, and what we watch.”

“Fuck no,” Ben rolled his eyes. “Dinner-maker controls the TV. That was the goddamn deal.”

“I get to work on your PTSD. That was a deal as well.”

“That’s not the way it fucking works-“

“That’s the offer on the table, Pretty Boy.” She shrugged. “Take it and I’ll go make a cheesesteak right fucking now, leave it and I keep working on your stupid fucking head.”

Ben glowered at Her determined, insufferable, perfect face. “You’re a fucking piece of work, brat.”

“Right back at you, cunt.” She grinned widely—all light and smug and pleased—with Her hand outstretched, and Ben couldn’t fucking force himself to be mad at Her if she tried.

“Fucking Christ,” Ben muttered, but shook Her hand all the same.

With a small, satisfied sound that made the Thing fucking groan, She stood and walked straight to the kitchen. Ben trailed like a fucking pussy behind Her, deciding it wasn’t because the Thing started to claw at him when She left his sight, but that he just simply couldn’t miss the disaster about to unfold.

After about ten minutes it became clear that while She seemed to have mastered what “thin and tender vegetables” looked like, Ben was starting to wonder if he should be concerned about the steak giving her an aneurism. While it was damn adorable to watch her fight with the frost-bitten steak one the counter—a battle that involved several graphic threats about tracking down the cow’s family and using them for Her food instead—Her face was contorted in dramatic anger and Ben could hear her chewing through her lip.

“It would really go faster if you just cooked with your fucking fire powers.” Ben drawled and She glared at him.

“I don’t know how to do that, cunt. I can’t control it at that level.”

“I’ll teach you.” He said—complete fucking sincerely—and She scoffed. “What,” Ben scowled. “What’s so fucking amusing about that.”

She shrugged, leaning against the counter with crossed arms. “You can’t even control yourself, and most of our powers are very fucking different.”

“First of all, brat, I haven’t exploded in fucking months. Second of all, shut the fuck up. And finally, I used to train people at Vought all the goddamn time.”

“So?”

“So,” he snapped mockingly. “I know what I’m fucking doing.”

“Yeah, when you’re being paid a million dollars to tell someone don’t make a fist like that, you’ll break your fingers,” She dropped her voice in a deep-voice, mocking impression. “Aim for the throat, people use that to breathe.”

“I trained people’s powers as well,” Ben pushed, matching Her frown. “I made some good fucking heroes.”

“I’m sure,” She said, leaning forward in sarcastic interest. “Crimson Countess, you have to aim at the target. You won’t hit it if you don’t.”

“And she got a lot fucking better at it, so my point is fucking proven.”

“You were fucking her,” She dismissed with a wave of her hand, turning back to the steak. “Doesn’t count.”

The Thing started to feel like it was crawling up and around inside Ben. “What the hell does that mean?”

“I dunno,” Her heart was stumbling, and Ben wished she would fucking look at him so he could see if Her face was in that pretty flush. “Reward systems are scientifically proven to be effective.”

“So me fucking her was a reward-“

Ben’s smug words died in his throat as fire ripped through the air, filling the room with smoke and the smell of charcoal. Ben waved a hand, clearing the smoke, and found Her standing at the now-black counter, hands on her hips as she glared down at a pile of charred ash.

“Didn’t work.” She said, spinning around with a scowl. “And we’re out of steak.”

“What the fuck was that?” Ben all but shouted, the smoke still clinging to the edges of the room. “You didn’t need to destroy the goddamn kitchen!”

“That was what you told me to do,” Her shoulders were tense, words clipped. “I told you I couldn’t control it, and ta da! I can’t!”

“You’re being a fucking brat,” he spat Her name, and when she turned to face him Ben hadn’t expected to see the sullen, tight look on Her face. Lips drawn together, hands gripping her sides with white knuckles. It wasn’t quite the hollow look that always made the Thing physically hurt, but it was really fucking close.

“I just don’t want to talk about training, okay?” She spat the word training with a venom, and though her voice was steady Ben could hear the tapping begin. “You can’t fucking help this.”

“This?” Ben stood from the counter, walking to Her in fast, long steps. “You mean you?”

She didn’t flinch as he stopped in front of her. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Stop fucking saying that,” he shouted, the Thing roaring in his ears, drowning almost all else out. “I can fucking fix this for you, if you would stop being such a stubborn bitch all the time!”

The sullen look faded into rage. “It doesn’t fucking matter!” Her voice had raised to match his. “I’m not supposed to have these powers. I’m not someone who’s going to even be a fucking fake hero or earn any fucking rewards. I’m a walking bomb, and I can’t control it, and it doesn’t fucking matter because there’s no fucking point.” A shallow, distressing breath shook Her body. “I don’t want to hurt people again, I won’t let myself.” She wasn’t looking at Ben anymore, voice clouded and heavy. “So it doesn’t matter.”

The Thing wasn’t only painful or consuming anymore. It was in Ben’s blood, fucking burning at Her, for Her. He grabbed Her perfect face, turning her sad eyes to his. “You won’t hurt people,” he said, keeping his voice as fucking calm as he could. “If you just let me fucking help you.”

“But-“

“I’m literally a walking bomb, Sunshine.” Ben raised his voice over hers. “If there’s no hope for you, there’s certainly fucking none for me.”

“That’s not the same,” She said quietly. “You’re you. You’re Soldier Boy.”

“You mean the fucking terrorist?” He watched Her lips tug slightly at his dry tone, and the Thing felt a little less suffocating. “Yeah, I’m sure the public will be clamoring for my return when this is over.”

“Aren’t we self-aware today,” She gave him a half-hearted smile, and Ben returned it.

“I’m always fucking self aware, Sunshine. It’s one of my best qualities.”

She gave a small laugh, and the Thing grew looser. “I think even you know that’s not true.”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” He drawled, and Her smile became a little more genuine. “Now will you please just let me fucking train you.”

She sighed, but it wasn’t as heavy as before. “It doesn’t-“

“Do you seriously fucking believe-“ Ben didn’t let Her finish, because if she said doesn’t matter one more time he might lose his fucking mind. “That you’re just going to be a fucking hermit for the rest of your immortal life.”

“I mean,” She said with a strained, fake-passive tone. “Yeah.”

“You think I’d fucking let that happen?”

She blinked at him. “What?”

“Sunshine, when we’re out of this and I’m shipped off who fucking knows where, you’re welcome to come.”

“Are you-” She gaped at him, and the Thing felt stuck in his throat. “Are you serious?”

“You burn, I burn.” Ben reminded Her firmly, because even if he wasn’t entirely sure where this offering was coming from, he knew he fucking meant it. “If you can’t be around normal fucking assholes, control or not, you can always fucking be around me.”

She scanned his face. “And if I can be around people?”

“Then you can stay in shit-ass New York with all those fucking pussies on your team.” Ben answered, even as the Thing scraped at his ribs at the fucking idea of it. “But you’ll have to learn to control it.”

“What If I can’t,” there was nothing but fear and exhaustion in Her voice, and it made the Thing move faster in him. “What if I just can’t?”

“You can.” He didn’t leave room for protest before he continued. “We’ll start tomorrow.”

She gave a hesitant nod. “Tomorrow.”

Ben took the victory.

The remainder of the night was quiet, Ben heating pre-made meatballs per their shitty deal, Her deciding they would watch Game of Thrones—a fucking suspicious choice given she always grumbled at Ben’s commentary—and Ben tried not to stare at Her through the night, his brain fucking consumed by every goddamn way he wanted to touch her. He managed, by some fucking miracle, to force his attention to how he would go about their training.

Ben hadn’t been fucking lying, he had trained new heroes at Vought. Never any quite as powerful or insanely smart-mouthed and perfect as her, but She didn’t have to know that. He’d figure this out, because the fucking idea of Her locking herself up to keep every weak undeserving pussy safe made him feel bloody.

When Her eyes began to look heavy and she began rubbing her face to keep them open, Ben dragged her up into her—their—bed. Ben tried not to dwell on the Thing—peaceful and quiet from the soothing sounds of Her breathing and heart—and how his offer hadn’t felt forced onto its tongue. How he couldn’t blame its grip over him, because his words had been entirely fucking true, and had fallen from him naturally.

She was up before him in the morning again. Ben felt a cold space where She had been, and the shower wasn’t running, making him sit up roughly, not bothering to change before he stalked downstairs. Finding Her in the kitchen, cross-legged at the counter with a sandwich in one hand and a book in the other, Ben found it a lot fucking easier to breathe.

 “You’re up early,” he leaned against the door, and She looked up at him with cheeks puffed, mid-chew.

“Sorry,” She said through the mouthful of food, and Ben grinned as crumbs fell from her perfect mouth. “I got up to pee, and I couldn’t fall back asleep.” 

Ben walked to lean across the counter, the Thing bucking as She swallowed roughly. “That fucking excited to get started, huh Sunshine?”

“Fuck off,” She rolled her eyes. “I was just hungry.”

 “Sure.” He winked. “You’ll need the energy.” “Are we training my fire or running a marathon?” She asked, raising her brows at him. “Because I can always back out.”

“You mean pussy out?”

“Fuck you, Pretty Boy. I’m going to burn your face off, and you’ll have no one but yourself to blame.”

Ben grinned at Her as she took an aggressive bite, holding his gaze. “We’ll see, brat. Are we ready to go?”

“Don’t you want to eat?” She asked through chews.

“I’ll fucking live.”

She shook Her head, shoving the remainder of her sandwich into his hands. “Eat, Ben.”

“I’m fucking fine,” Ben said Her name dryly, failing to return the food to her as she held her hands behind her back.

“Eat,” She snapped. “You get all grumpy when you don’t.” When Ben still didn’t move, She narrowed her eyes at him. “Eat or I’m pussying out.”

Ben scowled at Her, but shoved the remainder of the sandwich his mouth, holding her glare with a look of irritated amusement as he swallowed

“Happy?” He mocked, and She gave him a genuine, toothy smile.

“Absolutely.”

The Thing fucking whined, and Ben had to fight a smile from taking over his goddamn face.

“Can we get fucking going then?”

She shrugged, “if it’s that important-“

Ben grabbed her arm—ignoring the warmth of Thing at her touch and is weak fucking need in his gut when she made a sound of surprise—pulling her to dining room. They stopped in the center of the space, and Ben forced himself to take a step back, looking down at Her sternly.

“How is this even going to fucking work?” She asked, bored sass dripping from her voice.

Ben winked at Her. “Reward system, Sunshine.” He ran through the plan he’d spent the previous night developing, and almost missed the flush of Her face and the stutter of her heart. “I’ll tell you what to do, and every time you do it right, I’ll owe you a favor.”

“A favor,” She repeated, and Ben couldn’t figure out what that fucking slow tone and neutral expression meant. “What can the favors do?”

“Whatever you want, that’s how favors work.”

“No limits?”

Ben smirked at Her. “No limits.”

She swallowed, and the Thing rumbled. “Then let’s fucking go.”

“Palm open,” Ben instructed, demonstrating with his own hand. When she followed suit, he nodded and continued. “Now light it.”

She gave him a flat look. “Are you fucking serious? I can light my hand, Ben.”

“Prove it.”

“Fucking asshole,” She muttered under her breath, and closed her eyes. A small flame ignited in her palm, and she stuck Her tongue out at Ben smugly. “Told you so, cunt.”

Ben fought the urge to grab Her, pull her tongue into his mouth. “I’m not done, brat.” He sneered. “Hold it.”

“Hold it?” She frowned, glancing between Ben and her hand. “The fire?”

“In your hand, for five minutes.” He grinned down at Her. “No spreading it, no letting it go out.”

“That’s it?” 

“That’s it.”

She gave him a distrustful glare, spreading Her fingers wider. “My first favor is going to be making you dye your beard blue.”

“What?” Ben’s tone of mock-fury seemed to only make Her grin. “Why?”

“Because I hate you.”

“Sure, Sunshine.” He pushed down how the Thing strained at the fucking idea of Her words being true. “But you’ll only be able to fucking waste your favor like that if you don’t fucking burn my beard off.”

“Fucking watch me, Pretty Boy.” She snapped, and Ben just winked.

The first minute was fine, but near the middle of the second Her eyes started to cloud, teeth gnawing at her lips. The fire started to flicker, and before the third minute started it burst up, spreading up Her arms and through her body.

“Goddamnit!” She screamed, smoke still rising after the fire went out.

Ben gave Her a cocky grin. “What that about watching-“

“Not a fucking word.” She spread Her palm once more. “I just wasn’t ready.”

Ben hummed, and shot him a murderous glare. “I didn’t say fucking shit.” He teased, and she rolled Her eyes. “I’m sure you’ll get it this time, brat.”

“Stop being supportive, you cunt.” She hissed, and Ben laughed.

It took Her two hours, twenty minutes, fifty-two tries, and a lot of swearing to hold the fire evenly for five minutes. It was fucking worth Her verbal abuse, Ben decided, because he’d never seen her smile that wide and happy as when she finally succeeded.

“Yes!” She looked like she might literally fucking jump with joy. “Suck on that, Benjamin.”

“One favor is yours, Sunshine.” He couldn’t fight the Thing from taking over him with a broad, face-covering grin and chuckled. “Now do it again.”

By the end of the day She’d only burned Ben five times—a fucking miracle as far as he was concerned—could hold it for ten minutes, and Ben owed her five favors.

“You’re making dinner,” She cashed the first one almost immediately, and Ben had expected nothing less. “And I still choose what we watch.”

“That’s two goddamn nights in a row,” he grumbled, and She snickered.

“I know, it’s amazing.”

“Brat.”

“Cunt.”

Though Ben scowled, the Thing felt so fucking good—proud and blissed out like he was on a fucking drug—watching for the first time in goddamn days look happy. That pussyass fucking joy only grew in him when Ben sat at Her side on the couch, passing her a plate of Dino nuggets. Her smile was like a fucking infection, and the Thing running through Ben wasn’t helped in the slightest by the presence of those blue, off-brand sunglasses on her head.

“What the hell are you wearing those for?” Ben asked tauntingly, trying to make his voice crude to cover the Things genuine need to know. “It’s fucking night time. Indoors.”

“They were collecting dust,” She reached a hand up, dropping them onto her face. “And I look cool as shit in them.”

“You’d look better if they were green,” Ben muttered. “Blue’s a-“

“Pussy ass color?” She teased. “Don’t worry Pretty Boy, I won’t touch your beard and ruin your handsome face.”

“Handsome?” He blinked at Her, the Thing bellowing so loudly Ben couldn’t even pretend to be cocky.

She ignored him, even as Her heart flipped. “How would you feel about a pink beard?”

Ben whacked Her shoulder lightly, and she giggled, giving him a pout that made the Thing hungry. “Shut the fuck up.” He grunted, and She just blew a raspberry at him.

Her attention returned to the TV and as they fell into a comfortable silence, Ben tried his fucking hardest to not steal glances at Her perfect face in the TV light, tried to fight the way the Thing rioted every time she laughed at the show.

When Ben went to shower that night, his thoughts were haunted by the wide, free smile on Her face.

The next two days were some of the most peaceful of Ben’s entire goddamn life. For the fourth morning in a row, She had woken first. There had been towel discarded onto their growing pile of dirty clothes that told Ben she’d showered, and he was able to hear Her heart beating with the shuffle of her steps from downstairs. He’d entered the kitchen a quarter hour later to find Her in an intent focus, surrounded by grocery bags and the cookbook open on the table.

“How long ago did you get up?” He asked, and She’d jumped in surprise.

“Two hours,” She’d answered, gesturing to the steak on the counter. “Mallory sent the delivery early. I think I’m getting better at this cooking shit.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, Sunshine.” Ben had teased, and been whacked by a paper grocery bag.

The day was filled with training, and once they’d hit fifteen minutes Ben started to have Her hit random household objects they both deemed entirely fucking useless. Itchy blankets and pillows from the spare bedroom, paintings of horses and flowers Ben told her were fucking shit—She’d laughed at that and the Thing had grown though his chest—all of Her remaining, non-fireproof clothes, and several books She’d claimed “made Her want to hurt someone in middle school.”

“I’ve never known you to need a reason to hurt someone,” Ben had drawled Her name.

She’d flipped him off. “I’m a god of peaceful resolutions, Ben.”

“Sure.”

“I am.”

“I agreed with you, brat.”

“I’ll fucking kill you cunt,” the words likely been spoken against her will, being the small, angry gape of Her mouth after.

Despite Her growing control over her powers, Ben somehow ended up with more burns that afternoon than the one before. He’d been scowling at Her as she held his head, beard slightly burned in a real fucking noticeable way.

“I look like a fucking pussy.”

“Because your beard has one little patch?” She’d teased, and watching where Her palms were resting in his hair.  “I promise, Ben, it looks the exact same to everyone but you.”

“Don’t lie to protect my fucking ego-“

 “I’ve never lied to protect your ego before. I’m not about to start now.”

Ben hadn’t had a good retort to that, and they’d sat in a bitter silence until She’d nudged his thigh with her knee. “What,” he’d sounded less resentful than he’d liked to, but it was hard to be bitter when the Thing was so fucking satiated by Her gentle smile, and how it was all for him.

“I swear, you look fine. You look like you always do.”

He’d smirked, “which is?” 

“Don’t push it.”

“I think the words you meant to say were like a Greek god of sex.”

“The Greek god of sex was a woman,” She’d mumbled, looking down at him. “And I said don’t push it.”

Ben had cum that night—the flutter of Her heart as she looked at him replaying in his head—with Her name swallowed in his throat.

She was up first, fucking again. Though she was still next to him in bed—their legs tangled and one of his arms wrapped instinctively around her—Ben had woken to Her eyes watching him with not a trace of lingering sleep.

“Morning, Pretty Boy.” She’d whispered, and he’d groaned, scratching at his face to try and push the itch of sleep from his body.

“How fucking long have you been watching me, Sunshine?”

“Not long.” Ben hadn’t believed Her—she wouldn’t meet his eyes, her own looked hung with gray, and her words sounded flat and rehearsed—but he’d let it go. They’d spent the morning it the Kitchen, Ben watching Her try to cook and doing her second cashed favor, reading a fucking book.

“This is a goddamn waste of a favor,” Ben had snapped, and She’d hummed, not turning away from the steak she was beating into submission.

“I have twelve favors still in the bank, and more on the way. I think I’ll live.”

“I shouldn’t have fucking offered you favors. Should’ve just said you get complete TV control.”

“Oh, definitely,” She laughed. “I probably would’ve agreed if you offered me ten bucks and some chocolate. But you didn’t, so now you have to read.”

Ben huffed, and dodged as spare thin and tender pepper flew at his face. “Fucking rude,” he’d said, and She’d grinned at him.

“Don’t bitch and moan like I’m torturing you. You’re just reading.”

“That’s fucking torture. This is worse than torture.”

“Woe really is you, Ben. All those words and not one is smut.”

“What the fuck is smut.”

She’d blinked, and her heart had stuttered. “It’s um, porn. Book porn.”

“You can read porn-“ Ben had examined Her, the embarrassment on her face. “Do you read porn, Sunshine?” 

“I’m not going to dignify that with an answer,” She’d mumbled, turning her back to him once more.

“I think you read porn-“

This time, the pepper hit Ben right in the nose. When She wasn’t paying attention he’d eaten it off the floor, and it didn’t taste like complete fucking shit. She was, through brutal and hilarious trial and error, getting better.

Everything was good. Genuinely fucking good. That afternoon Ben had walked away with only two burns, She had hit about half of the targets he’d set up with passable aim—a vast improvement from Her grand total of zero the day before—and the Thing was so fucking content it was driving Ben insane. Because though he was still forced to find relief during inconvenient times in locked spaces, the Thing was getting real fucking specific about a lot of shit. It had gotten so fucking comfortable, fantasies had started to happen in the moment. She leaned against him slightly, and Ben was lost in thoughts of pulling her on top of him and fucking her until she collapsed against him. She smiled at him and Ben barely held himself from bruising her mouth with his. Two nights in a row they’d been so close—tangled and pressed together in sleep—that Ben hadn’t been sure where he stopped and She started.

Things were fucking good. She was fucking perfect and Ben was starting to worry that the light feeling in his chest was something that might last. That he might burn the world to keep there.

She was sitting next to him now, watching the TV while Ben watched her. He wanted to touch Her, he had to touch Her. More than just her hands and legs, fucking everywhere. He needed to feel Her, because this stupid fucking euphoria was stronger when She was at his side and he could hear her heart. She needed to know that, he needed Her to smile because Ben told her that she was the most perfect goddamn thing that had ever existed, and nothing even came fucking close-

The door slammed, and She was moving before Ben was, a controlled flame igniting on her fingers. Some muffled grunts came from the dark hall, Ben felt his whole body tense, ready to bleed whoever was there-

A silhouette was nearing the door, and Ben was fucking proud of how fast the fireball left her hand. Only a second later, goddamn Butcher walked into the room, covering their floors in fucking blood and sweat.

Ben should’ve pushed Her harder that afternoon. Maybe Her flame would’ve hit Butcher in the fucking face instead of only leaving a scorch mark on the wall near his head.

“Fucking Christ!” Butcher roared, stumbling far to the side. “You almost fucking hit me!”

“I’m not that lucky,” She snapped, and Ben snorted. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

“Are you blind, Love?” Butcher unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a large bullet wound in his chest. “Fucking fix it.”

She was, as fucking always, too kind for her own good. Because she stalked around the couch, and laid a single hand over Butcher’s wound in a venomous silence. Ben’s jaw clenched as Her heartbeat began to pick up, at the smug fucking look on Butcher’s face, at how she was rubbing her own chest in mirror to Butcher’s injury.

“Where did you even get this?” She asked, and Butcher shrugged.

“Don’t matter.” His gaze turned to Ben. “Got a gift for you, Gov.”

 “A gift?” She and Ben said in unison, and Butcher rolled his eyes.

“Aren’t you two bloody adorable,” he sneered, and Ben wondered if She could fix a ripped off head. “It’s in the damn car, I’ll need help getting it.”

“Help?” She asked, and Ben could see the thoughtful, untrusting frown covering her face, even with her back turned. “What is it?”

 “A fucking surprise.”

“He hates surprises,” She said, and the Thing hummed somewhere near Ben’s lungs.

“He’ll like this one,” Butcher dismissed. “Don’t you fucking trust me, Love?”

“Nope.” She snapped, heartbeat growing erratic even as she removed her hand. Butcher’s wound was gone, replaced by smooth, unblemished skin.

Butcher turned—flipping the hall light—and walked to the door in long steps. Swinging it open to the cool night air, he gave a sweeping gesture, brows raised. “C’mon cunts. We ain’t got all fucking night.”

Ben followed Her down the hall, only step behind, an arms distance away. Butcher’s car was parked in the drive, still running with the headlights on.

“What would you have done if the car had got stolen?” She asked, following Butcher to the trunk.

“Considering I can’t file a police report,” Butcher said, tone bored and cruel. “I think I might just use all the fucking CIA resources at my disposal to bloody find it.”

The trunk was popped open, and in it lay—fucking finally—the Soldier Boy shield in all its flawless fucking glory.

Ben didn’t hesitate to yank it up, grinning widely, and almost missed Her look of amusement.

 “Would you two like a minute alone?” She teased, and Ben scowled at Her.

“Shut the fuck up, Sunshine. It’s my goddamn shield, that you pussies-“ Ben pointed an accusing finger at Butcher. “Have fucking owed me for two months.”

“Time wasn’t right, mate,” Butcher said lazily, and Her heart faltered.

“And it’s right now?” She was almost whispering, the wind howling over her words. Even in the darkness, Ben could see the fog begin behind her eyes. “Why?”

“Big mission in four days.” Butcher began to move to the front of the car. “Thought I’d get ahead of it, let Soldier Boy do whatever weird shit he wants with his baby blanket before we have to move.”

Ben’s fury at the baby blanket comment was drowned out by the tap of Her fingers. The blanched, fearful fucking look on Her perfect face. The Thing howled, and Ben’s teeth became gritted.

“What type of shit are you about to make us pull, Butcher?” Ben growled.

Butcher winked. “We’re trying to wrap this circus up soon, Gov. Don’t worry your little mug about it.” Butcher’s attention turned to Her, saying Her name with a smirk. “See you in a few days.”

The car pulled out of the driveway with a screech, and She and Ben were left standing in the night. She looked at Ben with an empty smile as they returned into the house.

“Happy to have your shield back?”

“Should never have left,” Ben gripped it a little tighter as the Thing started to pull him toward her. “The fuck is Butcher planning?”

“What?” She said, blinking at him. “I- I um, I don’t know.”

She wasn’t looking at him, and every movement she had was controlled, mechanical. Ben didn’t fucking believe her. “You sure about that?”

She nodded, making a sound of agreement. Ben was going to push, he was going to ask why she was fucking lying, what she knew and why it was making her act so fucking strange, but She gave a long, stretching yawn, eyes lidded and steps unsteady.

“I’m tired,” She mumbled, leaning into Ben as they moved down the hall. “What time is it?”

“Almost ten,” Ben watched Her give another, loud, fucking adorable yawn, and the Thing felt warm where they touched.

“Few more hours before bed,” She nodded, walking toward the couch. Ben caught Her waist with arm before she could sit.

“You’re going to sleep now, Sunshine.” He placed his shield carefully at the foot of the steps. “You’re going to fucking pass out.”

“No I’m not,” She wiggled a bit, but Ben didn’t budge. “It’s only ten.”

“What time were you up this morning?” He asked dryly.

“What time were you up this morning?” She snapped.

“I fucking asked first.”

She gave him a half-hearted shove. “Nuh uh.”

“Really?” He snorted Her name. “What are you, a fucking child?”

“That’s rich coming from you, Ben.” She was starting to slump against him. “And even if I was, you’re not my fucking dad, you don’t get to give me a bed time.”

“I think you’re giving yourself a bed time, beautiful.” The word slipped out of Ben’s mouth, and the Thing became frozen as She looked up at him.

There was no fucking reason for that to be weird, Ben had called fucking hundreds of women beautiful. She wasn’t any fucking different. Even if She was perfect and leaned into him and looking up at him with sleepy, shining eyes and the Thing wanted to—fucking had to—hold Her like this forever-

“I’m not tired,” Her words were slurred mumbles against Ben, and he chuckled because—before the words had even left Her mouth—she was slumped into him, breathing growing steady with sleep.

Ben carried Her upstairs, laying her carefully on their bed and pulling the blankets up her body. When he drew back up, fucking forcing himself to walk away, back down the stairs, let Her sleep alone like a normal fucking man and not some weak fucking pussy who was scared to leave her side, she made a small sound behind him. When Ben turned, She was splayed out across the mattress, with one hand reaching out to Ben’s side, and frown twisted on Her perfect lips.

“Fuck it,” he muttered to no one, and stalked back to the bed. The Thing’s flailing around inside of him was calmed as Ben pulled Her to his chest, and She gave a small, breathy sigh as Her face returned to a picture of easy content.

Ben fell���lulled by Her heart and gentle breath—into deep sleep.

She was up first. The bed at Ben’s side had already grown cold, but he could hear the shower running through the bathroom door, hear the slow drum of Her heart as she moved. Ben stood and moved down the stairs, aiming to put on the coffee before she finished, only to find a half-full pot and a discarded mug at the counter. Her phone lay, face-down, at the mug’s side and glancing at the sink, there was a dirty plate that had definitely not been there the previous night.

When She arrived in the kitchen—hair damp and face blank—Ben coughed loudly.

“I can see you, Ben.” She moved past him, picking up her phone. “You can just say hi.”

“How long have you been up?” He asked roughly, and She shrugged.

“Few hours. We went to bed early last night, I must’ve gotten all the sleep I needed.”

“You fucking passed out last night,” Ben snapped Her name. “And it is not early. A few hours would mean before the fucking sun.”

She didn’t look up at him. “So?”

“You’re being fucking weird. And you never answered my question last night.”

“What question?” Her voice was flat, bored.

“What the hell is Butcher’s mission? It’s clearly something important, if he decided to give me my fucking shield.”

“I don’t know. Nobody’s told me.”

“I think you’re fucking lying.”

She raised her head, glaring firmly, coldly, at Ben. “I’m not. They don’t tell anything, you fucking know that.”

“I-“

“Nope.” She cut him off, placing her phone on the counter and crossing her arms. “We’re not fighting about this. Doesn’t matter what you think, Benjamin. That’s the fucking truth. Okay?”

Her face was like steel. He hadn’t seen her face like this, blank and controlled and full of so much quiet fury, in fucking months. The Thing was fucking cowering in Ben, like a goddamn pussy. Not afraid, but fucking desperate for her to stop looking at him like that. 

“Fine.” He grunted, and something like relief flashed across Her face. “But you need to fucking promise that if I need to be worried, you’ll tell me.”

“Sure,” She turned to the fridge, and Ben grabbed her arm, turning her to face him.

“Fucking promise.”

She blinked at him, voice a little softer—almost fucking delicate—when she said, “Promise.”

“Good,” He released her, and though the Thing felt no more peace, Ben took the goddamn weak reassurance. “Now eat, we’re training in a hour. Today you’re going to hit all the fucking targets.”

“You have a whole lot of faith in me, Pretty Boy,” She gave him a smile, and even that felt fragile. “Don’t know where the hell it comes from given how dogshit I am at this.”

“You’re getting better,” Ben winked. “Under my masterful fucking guidance.”

“Uh huh,” She snorted. “We’ll see about that.”

Two hours later, after She missed the target for the eleventh time in a row—Ben watching from the edge of the room—he was starting to think she was doing it on purpose.

“You know, if you’re trying to prove a point,” Ben said Her name, giving her an annoyed look. “There are damn better ways to do it.”

“I’m not trying to prove a point,” She snapped. “You’re the one who chose the smallest fucking cup in the world.”

“You hit it yesterday.”

“Shut up,” She missed again, a low noise of frustration sounding from her chest. “God fucking damnit!”

Ben watched Her, lips gnawing and breaths becoming shallow. “Calm the hell down, Sunshine.”

“I am fucking calm.”

“You’re burning a hole in the floor.”

She looked down to where the wood was charred beneath her feet. “Fuck off.” She muttered.

“This whole fucking house is fire-proof.” Ben pushed himself off the wall. “You’re burning like a fucking bomb. What the hell is wrong with you today?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I’m just having an off day.” Her words were hissed through teeth, and smoke was filling the room.

“You’re sloppy.” He stopped, glowering down at Her. 

She didn’t falter, holding his gaze. “Last time you said that, was anything wrong?”

“Last time you fucking broke down.”

“Do I look like I’m breaking down now?”

“You look like you’re about to collapse.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Hit the fucking target.”

She didn’t break eye-contact as her arm shot out, and Ben looked in time to see the cup—along with the entire damn wall—catch fire.

“That doesn’t count,” he grunted.

“The fuck it doesn’t.”

“You have to only hit the target, brat. That’s the whole goddamn point.”

“Fuck off, you asshole.” She shoved against his chest. “You’re being a cunt on purpose.”

“I’m not the one being fucking insane about ‘nothing’.” Ben mocked. “We’re staying right here until you either admit something is up or hit the target the right fucking way.”

“Fuck you.”

Ben didn’t answer, only held Her glare. The Thing hated this, it hated how fucking strange She was being, how She wouldn’t fucking talk to him, how Her face was all painful shadows and contorted control. But Ben couldn’t fucking break. Couldn’t fucking let it go just to see Her smile. Not when she was tapping and chewing and her eyes were so fucking empty and she wouldn’t tell him why.

The afternoon was long. She didn’t hit a single fucking target, and Ben called it when She started looking like she was about to explode. Ben showered—trying to figure out the fuck to make Her talk—while She continued her practice in the kitchen. When he returned downstairs, Ben found her on the couch, watching the TV with a blank expression.

“Have you calmed the hell down?” He snapped, and the Thing grew thick in his throat when She looked up at him with exhausted, foggy eyes.

“Yeah,” She said softly. “I’m sorry-“ She cut herself off, swallowing heavily. “I promise nothing is wrong. I’m just tired.”

“Because you keep getting up like you’re in the fucking military,” Ben muttered, walking to sit at Her side. “You need fucking sleep.”

She gave a hollow laugh. “Pot, meet kettle.”

“Shut up. It’s not the same.” Ben leaned back. “And I have been sleeping.”

“I know, you snore like a truck.” Her smile this time was a little lighter. “Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?” Ben turned to look at Her, and found his face being pulled down, soft hands in his hair. “Right now?” He frowned at her. “It’s late, and you look a little too fucking tired.”

“We missed yesterday.” She said as if it was fucking obvious. “And if you still think it does nothing, you shouldn’t have anything to worry about.”

Ben’s frown turned to a scowl at that. She was too fucking good at backing him into those corners, where She knew he couldn’t respond without her winning. “You think you’re real smart, huh?” 

“I don’t think I’m smart,” She gave him a cocky grin. “I know I’m smart.”

“Brat.”

“Cunt.”

As Her brows drew together in focus, the Thing became strained. Something was fucking wrong. It didn’t matter how many times She denied it, she was more stressed than he’d ever fucking seen Her. Ben racked his brain for a way to ask Her that wouldn’t make her explode, wouldn’t make her shut down or turn away from him. It was an exhausting process, he had no clue how She did this all the time like it was easy, asking careful question and using stupid fucking tricks to bend him to Her will. Admittedly, Ben admired it. It was fucking hot, the small smiles on Her perfect face and how quick her words came. But Jesus fucking Christ, he wished She was worse at it. Especially as he tried to do it himself.

He said Her name slowly. “How did you meet Butcher?”

“What?”

“How did you-“

“I heard you,” She said tightly. “Why are you asking that?”

Ben fought the frown on his face. “Am I not allowed to ask fucking questions?”

“Not weird ones out of the blue.”

“It’s not that damn weird,” he grumbled. “You’ve never told me. Fuck me for being curious how you fell in with a bunch of fucking pussies.”

She sighed. “I escaped Homelander,” her hands gripped his head a little tighter. “They found me. Not much more to say.”

“How did they even know about you?” He searched Her face for any tells, any breaks in her mask.

Her face remained passive, unreadable. “Maeve told Butcher. He told Mallory. They tracked me down.”

“Why didn’t you fucking leave?”

“Leave?”

“The country,” Ben pushed. “Fuck, just the damn East Coast. Why did you stay where you could be found?” 

“You don’t know that I didn’t,” she muttered. “Maybe they found me in Aruba.”

“No, they fucking didn’t.”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t know that, you cunt.”

“Answer my question, brat.”

She glared at Ben’s forehead. “I don’t know. I just, the first thing I found out when I escaped was that to everyone in the world, I’d been dead for over two years. I didn’t have anything to go back to.”

“So you should’ve just fucking left-“

“I couldn’t,” She hissed, and Ben felt her hand get warm. “I had nothing, no one. Just a fucking grave that proved I had existed. I was angry and tired and alone. Butcher found me at my grave, because that’s the only place I could be. I didn’t have it in me to leave, because I kept fucking hoping I’d blink and the grave would vanish.”

“Sunshine-“

“They found me, and they offered me a reason. I ‘fell in with them’ because they knew I was alive, and it gave me some sort of fucking value. That’s it.”

Ben placed his hands over Hers, and she finally looked at him. “I think we’re done.”

This time, She didn’t fight, and her voice was so fucking tired when she spoke. “Okay.”

The rest of the night was quiet, and though She was smiling and laughing, the joy felt uneasy, and it never reached her fucking eyes. When She leaned against Ben the Thing became loud, because though she wouldn’t look at him she was gripping his arm like he might vanish. Though She traded teasing words with him, there was no edge of amusement to them, lined only with that flat, rehearsed sound.

She was up first. They had fallen asleep late, Her pressed into the bed by Ben’s arm across her stomach, but She was up first. Ben found Her in the kitchen, sitting with her fingers tapping quickly on the counter. Before he could ask Her what the fuck she was doing up so early again, She looked up and smiled—a real fucking smile with teeth and clear eyes—as he entered the room.

“You’re up!” There were bags under her eyes, hanging heavier than before, but she was really fucking smiling and the Thing was tearing in two. “Finally.”

Ben started at Her. “Finally?” 

She hummed, nodding as she stood and walked to the oven. “Are you ready to have your mind fucking blown, Pretty Boy?”

“What the fuck are you-“ Ben cut himself off as She bent over, pulling out a cheesesteak—a beautiful cheesesteak that smelled fucking good—and turned with a grin.

“I did it.” She said smugly. “I cooked.”

“You’re real fucking pleased with yourself, huh.” Ben raised a brow a Her, and the Thing hummed as she gave a strong, proud nod.

“You’re going to fucking proud of me as well, dummy. I’m a god of this cooking shit.”

Fighting a smile, Ben rolled his eyes. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

She placed the cheesesteak before him, and gave a dramatic bow. “Bon appetit, cunt.” 

Ben expected it to taste like shit. It would’ve been really fucking funny if it tasted like shit, and it would’ve been so fucking easy. He could’ve teased her, or pretended it was fine and not felt the Thing buck around inside of him. But She would never just make shit easy for Ben. He had never met a more impossibly, obnoxiously fucking perfect person who seemed to know how to push every single one of his goddamn buttons. Because, fucking hell and Christ, this cheesesteak was good.

She watched his reaction carefully, eyes a little too wide to be natural. “So?” Her voice was nervous, delicate, and Ben couldn’t fucking force himself to lie.

“It’s good,” he muttered and She blinked.

“So you like it?”

Ben swallowed. “It’s good.”

“You said that,” Her voice was strained. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah, Sunshine.” Ben took another large bite, and the words pushed out of him. “It’s fucking amazing. Keep your damn head on.”

Her smile took over her face, and though she didn’t look the slightest bit less exhausted, she looked so fucking thrilled at his words that the Thing fucking whined.

“Great. That’s good. I’m, uh-“ Her face was becoming flushed. “Thanks.”

Ben winked at Her. “You’re going to cook more shit now, right?”

Her heart stumbled, and she looked away. “We’ll see.”

“What if I give you that complete TV control?” Ben said through a mouthful, and She shrugged.

“I can just use my favors for that.”

“You’ll run out,” Ben said pointedly. “You didn’t get any yesterday.”

“I told you, it was just an off day.” She grumbled, and Ben nudged her with his foot, waiting for Her to turn before he spoke.

“If you want to take a break from it, just fucking tell me.”

She stared at him. “You fucking bullied me into this, and now you want me to take a break.”

“You’re exhausted. You’re not going to perform any better.”

 “I’ll be fine.” She snapped. “It was an off day.”

“You don’t have to prove a damn thing to me-“

“I’m not trying to.” She stood upright, moving to the door. “I’m fine, and I’ll perform fine as well.”

Ben examined Her, posture too rigid, face washed out, blinking too fast. “If you don’t, I earn a favor.”

“Deal,” she crossed Her arms. “There’s not a chance in hell you’ll get anything.”

“We’ll see,” Ben said through a mouthful, and She stuck her tongue out at him before marching away.

As he ate, Ben listened to Her move in their room. Her heart was fast—erratic and loud through the floor—until, suddenly, it wasn’t. It grew slower, steady and even, and She had stopped moving. Ben walked carefully up the stairs, abandoning the plate in the kitchen, and opened their door to find Her slumped on the bed. She lay on her side, head against Ben’s pillow, leg angled off the side of the mattress like she’d been knocked out. Her eyes were fluttering slightly, her breaths coming long and deep, and Ben realized he hadn’t seen Her sleep like this a fucking week. With a peaceful face, completely taken in rest. Every perfect feature of her face was blissful, somehow more beautiful with the push of pain. The Thing was filled with a foreign fucking adoration, and Ben couldn’t stop himself from carefully pulling a blanket over Her body, flipping off lights and closing curtains until there was nothing that could disturb Her. He paused before leaving the room, watching Her like a pussy fucking creep, but he could’t bring himself not to.

The Thing wanted to touch Her, Ben wanted to touch her, and the only thing that kept him from pulling her to his side was fear of waking her. This—Her sleeping without restraint—was more fucking important that the Thing and it’s stupid goddamn need.

Ben returned to the kitchen, finishing the cheesesteak and trying not to dwell on the ache of the Thing to return to Her. Just be there, near Her, if she fucking needed anything. She had to sleep, sure, but that didn’t mean Ben couldn’t fucking be there. What if She woke up, and was ready to tell him what had been bothering her. What Butcher was planning. What if She fucking cried, what if she needed him, just him. Not any food or comfort or help but just him. 

He found himself in front of the TV, no attention on the show playing. Only Her breathing, only her heart. Any flutter or staggered sound made Ben’s whole fucking body tense, and though no drums sounded, it felt painfully fucking similar, like the slightest break in Her was a break in him.

When he heard the first scream, Ben had never moved so fucking fast in his life. He tore up the stair, kicking the door clean off its hinges, and a rush of fire blew past him into the hall. Ben’s blood turned cold as he moved into the room, his heart pounding in his chest.

She was floating off the bed, thrashing like she’d been fucking possessed. Everywhere around her was fire, covering her body and pushing at the walls. She was screaming, no breaks in the horrible fucking sound for breath. Her eyes looked screwed shut, her jaw hanging open and body fighting something Ben couldn’t see.

He launched himself at Her, trying to avoid her flailing hands—curled into claws and scratching at the air—as he shook her awake. He roared Her name, and she rose higher off the bed, back arching and fire growing. She looked like she was being tortured, screeching words Ben couldn’t understand and making deep, guttural sounds of agony. Ben could feel his skin burning—searing and scarring and raw—but grabbed Her roughly and pulled her down from the air. He couldn’t wake Her up, her eyes wouldn’t fucking open, the screams wouldn’t stop-

Ben did the only thing he could think of—deciding She could give him all the hell in the world for it and it wouldn’t change a goddamn thing—and slapped Her. Not hard enough to break Her, holding his strength back from leaving even a temporary mark, but enough to make it sting. Enough to make her eyes shoot open, make Her breathe ragged and sharp gasp as she fell fully onto Ben.

Tears were turning to steam in Her eyes and the screams became weak and desperate scrambles for air. She was clinging to Ben with flaming nails in his skin, but he didn’t give a goddamn fuck, because all that mattered was Her. Awake, choked on sobs and burning, but awake. Ben would let Her melt his fucking skin off if it helped, if it meant he would never have to hear her scream again.

Ben wasn’t sure how much time passed before She finally spoke, words pushed from her throat and so quiet he almost didn’t hear them.

“Why-“ She took a pained breath, hands fisted in Ben’s shirt. “Why did you let me sleep?”

“You passed out,” he said Her name in a low tone. “You fucking needed it.”

She shook her head. “You should’ve woken me up.”

“Did you not hear me say you passed out?” Ben’s voice raised slightly, holding Her tightly against him. “You looked like shit, like you hadn’t slept in days-“

“On purpose!” She pushed at his chest, voice high and unsteady. “I couldn’t sleep, I can’t sleep! I won’t let myself or-“

Ben narrowed his eyes as she cut Herself off with a miserable sound, something furious build in him as Her head fell into him.

“Or what?” He asked firmly, and She shook her head.

“Nothing.” Her voice was a whisper, and Ben pulled her back, holding her head so she was looking at him.

“Or what?” This time the words were louder, angrier. She had been fucking hiding something, and if it was something that reduced Her to this, he wouldn’t fucking let it go or bend anymore. Ben was going to know what was fucking wrong, if She wouldn’t tell him, he’d torture it out of Butcher by hand.

“I can’t-“ She shook her head frantically, and Ben  grabbed it between his hands. “I can’t tell you.”

“Yes, you fucking can."

“No, you don’t understand, I- I can’t, you’ll-“ She choked on another sob, and the Thing was roaring inside him.

“I’ll what?” Ben said Her name through teeth. “What the fuck is wrong-“

She made a desperate whimper, trying to pull from him. “You’ll try to-“ Her breaths were shallow and short. “Can’t-“

“Look at me.” Ben lowered his voice, even as he tightened his grip.

“No-“

The Thing was like stone in him, running a cold, angry resolve through Ben’s body. “If you think for one goddamn fucking second that I’ll let something hurt you, you’re a lot more stupid than I thought.”

“You won’t- you can’t-“

“Stop fucking saying that.” He snapped, and another weak sound fell from Her mouth. “Just, fuck, please.” He traced soft circles on Her face, and her heart slowed slightly. “Fucking look at me Sunshine. Just look at me.”

Finally, She did. The lingering fire went out as she met his eyes, blinking away heavy tears.

“What’s wrong.”

“I can’t tell you.” She whispered, and Ben shook his head.

“You need to fucking tell me. I can’t do anything if you don’t-"

“I know." Her eyes were so sad, she looked damn haunted. “That’s why I can’t tell you.”

“You need to make some goddamn sense.”

She sighed. “I can’t.”

“Try.”

“No, Ben. I can’t. I won’t. This isn’t something you can fix.”

He said Her name slowly. “Either you tell me now, or we sit here until you come to your fucking senses.”

“I-“

“You just woke up screaming and set the whole fucking bedroom on fire.” He roared, unable to care if his voice was loud and cruel. “You’ve been lying to me that everything is fine, but it’s clearly fucking not, so if you don’t start talking right fucking now I’ll-“ Ben took a deep, furious breath, dropping his head against Hers. “Just fucking tell me, goddamnit. You’re making me feel fucking sick, so please tell me.”

She pressed her head to his, and Ben wasn’t sure either of them were breathing. “You’ll try and stop me,” Her volume was barely a fucking sound. “If I tell you, you’ll try to stop me, and I can’t let you.”

He said Her name, and she shook her head, leaning back.

“I can’t let anything stop me. This is it. I can’t tell you or you’ll stop me, I can’t tell Annie or Hughie or MM because they’ll stop me. I can’t sleep because I’ll lose my nerve and stop myself. And I can’t let that happen.”

“I-“

She cut Ben off again, red eyes searching his as she placed her hands over where Ben held her face.

“This is the only way. So I can’t let anything stop me.”

Ben started at Her, the Thing squeezing at his throat. “Tell me.” 

“Ben-“

“You aren’t fucking leaving this room until you get real fucking specific about whatever shit you’re about to pull.”

She only sighed. “I told you-“

He hissed Her name. “I have some fucking news for you, Sunshine. Whatever it is, I’m stopping you. If it’s a gambit to steal Butcher’s kid, if it a play to trap Sage, if it’s some sort of self-sacrificial bullshit-“

Her heart faltered, so subtly, but Ben caught it. She started to shake her head, but he didn’t waver, keeping her perfect, tragic face aimed at his own.

“What the fuck are you about to do.” He growled, and a small sob left Her. “And don’t say you can’t tell me or it doesn’t matter or lie or apologize. Say the fucking truth,” Ben’s voice became weak, desperate, pathetic as he said Her name. But he had to know. He might fucking die if he didn’t. “Please. Just tell the fucking truth.”

The second before She spoke was the longest of Ben’s life. It was hell, because if she lied it would rip the Thing apart, would rip him apart. She was watching him, hands still holding Ben’s, and when the silence broke with Her unsteady inhale—worlds falling out of her like vomit—Ben time move once more, all too fast.

“The Ryan plan. It’s the Ryan plan. It’s the only safe way to get him out, get him away. Safe. Get proof, undeniable proof of what Homelander is. What he’s capable of doing, what he’s done. Becca Butcher files, and-"

“You.” Ben said, blood running cold.

“Me.”

“And how, fucking how, did you plan on getting close enough to tell him.” Ben spat, and She wouldn’t look him in the fucking eyes.

“The only definite way.”

“Fucking say it.”

“Let Home-“ She made a weak, hollow, broken sound. “Let Homelander take me."

This was hell. Ben was fucking certain of it. This was some sort of punishment, where he got to have Her only to lose her. He wouldn’t lose her. He couldn’t lose her. Not if it was something like his, something unnecessary and so fucking stupid. There was no longer a divide in Ben between his rage and that of the Thing. Every fiber of his body was in a consuming fucking chant, a certain answer to what he had to do.

“No.”

She shook her head. “It’s not-“ 

“No.” Ben’s voice was firmer, louder. “Not a fucking chance in hell.”

“I’m not asking.” Her voice was still empty, but more firm with the anger creeping onto her face. “You don’t get to tell me what-“

“We fucking promised.” Ben growled. “We aren’t going back. So no.”

“You don’t get to stop me, Ben.” She spat. “I’m fucking doing it.”

“Would you let me go back under, for some bullshit, pointless fucking plan?”

She scowled. “Of course not, but this isn’t-“

“It’s the exact fucking same!” Ben pulled himself from Her completely. “You’re not doing this, not while I’m fucking alive and able to do something about it!”

“You don’t tell me what I can do!” She screamed. “This is the only way, and I’m fucking doing it!”

“NO!” He roared. “You don’t get to fucking give yourself to him like you’re a fucking pawn.”

“I am a pawn!” She screamed. “I’m the only way in, the only way to save Ryan, get him the fuck away so you can do your fucking job and kill him.”

“Do you really think that I’d just let you go?” He hissed. “Do you seriously fucking believe that Homelander would take you and I wouldn’t fucking burn everything to get you away from him.”

“I’m not your fucking responsibility. Protecting me isn’t your job-“

“I don’t give a fucking shit about your plans or Butcher’s plans or my job. I give a shit about you.” Ben could hear the drums in the distance, but it didn’t fucking matter. Nothing fucking mattered except Her. “You burn, I burn. You’re not fucking burning without me, so no.”

She stared at Ben, and all the anger was gone, replaced by a look he couldn’t fucking understand. “Ben-“

“No.” He snapped, extending his hand. “Give me your phone.”

“My phone?”

“I’m calling your team. We’re going to come up with a plan that’s not fucking stupid.”

“My plan-“

“Isn’t going to happen. You’re going to sleep, and I’m going to stay right fucking here until we come up with a new fucking plan.”

She glared at him. “If you lock me in this room, I’ll fucking-“

“Stop being so fucking dramatic, I’m not locking you anywhere. Wherever you go, I go. I won’t leave your side for a fucking second, not until I know you won’t try and go through with this idiotic idea.” Ben flexed his hand. “Give me your phone.”

She let out a shaky sigh, tilting her head. “You’re serious.”

“As goddamn cancer.”

She watched him—Ben still couldn’t fucking read that expression on Her perfect face—looking for something She seemed to find with a small nod. When She placed her phone in Ben’s hands it felt like the world finally started moving again.

“I’m sorry.” She said softly, keeping her hand over the phone in Ben’s palms. “I’m really-“

“No apologies.” Ben said, closing his fingers around Hers. “Go sleep.”

“Can you-“

“After I call.”

She hummed carefully, walking to the bed. When She didn’t lie down—only sitting at the headboard with her arms wrapped around her body—Ben raised his brows.

“I won’t-“ She swallowed. “I won’t sleep if you’re not here.”

Ben blinks. “Oh.”

“I can wait-“ She cut herself off as Ben dropped on his side of the mattress.

“I can talk while sitting,” he said dryly. “Sleep.”

All the fight and pain seemed to drain from Her at once with Ben’s words, and she almost fell into his side as sleep overtook Her. Ben slung his arm over Her shoulder, and for the first time that day the Thing breathed.

Ben managed to get her phone open himself, and found Butcher’s contact with much more ease than last time. It took him a second to figure out the difference between cell and work, but when it began to ring Ben held it to his ear, grinding his teeth as Butcher took his sweet fucking time to pick up.

“Oi, Love. We ain’t supposed to be talking for another two days-“

“We need to fucking talk Butcher.” Ben growled. “Change of plans, She’s not doing your dirty work. If you and your pussy ass team aren’t here by tomorrow afternoon to figure out something new, all deals are off. Do you fucking understand?”

There was silence for only a second. “I don’t know what-“

“Don’t bullshit me. Tomorrow afternoon, or I walk.”

“I don’t take any bloody orders from you, Gov. And you can’t just fuckin walk-“

“Fucking try me.” Ben hissed, and didn’t wait for Butcher’s response to hang up.

————

The day was long. You slept, really slept, for the first time in a week. No nightmares, no fire, no vigilante methods to keep yourself awake. Ben wouldn’t let you out of his sight, except to use the bathroom. And even then you’d have to talk the whole time so he knew you were there. He didn’t trust you, and you didn’t blame him. He won’t look at you, he keeps ignoring your apologies, and the Feeling can’t stand it. It’s killing you. He’s barely spoken, except in one-word answers to questions. 

“When will the team be here?” You ask nervously.

“Evening.” He says coldly, and that’s all you get.

Now you’re wrapped in a blanket, sitting quietly on the stairs as everyone fights around you. Most of your view of the team was blocked by Ben—who had planted himself firmly at the foot of the stairs—but you could hear it all.

 “Wait,” Annie says slowly. “So was this her plan, or Butcher’s?”

 “Sounds like a Butcher plan.” MM mutters, and Butcher scoffs.

“This was all her,” he snaps your name. “I was just enjoying the ride.”

“When did you even come up with this?” Hughie asks, and you catch a glimpse of his worried face as he tries to lean around Ben and address you.

Ben promptly moves to block him once more. “Don’t fucking talk to her, you fucking pussy.”

“I’m just-“

“Five steps back, Cocksucker, before I make you.”

“Ben,” you mumble, standing up and walking to be directly behind him. “It’s fine.”

“Listen to Sunshine, Gov.” Butcher sneers. “It’s fine.”

You glower at him over Ben’s shoulder. “Stuff it, Butcher.”

“I still don’t really understand,” Annie speaks over the venomous looks you and Butcher are exchanging. “Does Mallory know about this?”

“No,” you sigh. “Only Butcher and I. That was the point, no possible leaks that would tell Homelander it was a trap.”

“And the Becca files-“

You cut Hughie off. “I would’ve hidden them on myself.”

“Homelander would’ve seen them, no?” Frenchie frowned. “X-ray vision.”

“I had Butcher buy a tampon-shaped USB.”

Annie’s face wrinkles at your words. “That’s… Disgusting.”

“By the way,” Butcher interjects. “If we ain’t going through with this, you owe me forty.”

“There’s no way in hell you’re going through with this, Butcher.” MM snaps. “You two-“ he waves a hand between you and Butcher. “Are motherfucking idiots, who knew how insane this plan was and didn’t tell us because there’s not a single fuckin universe where we’d let you go through with it.”

“I don’t know why I’m takin all the bloody blame for her plan-“

“Because she’s on strike one!” Annie shouts. “This is strike fifty for you, asshole! There’s a reason she went to you, because is your exact brand of fucking shit!”

“Ooo,” Butcher mocks. “Church girl using some vulgar fuckin words, I’m shaking in my sketchers.”

Hughie says your name, pleading. “You have to have known this was a bad idea. Why-“

“It was, it is-“ You see Ben’s jaw clench in front of you. “The best way to get Ryan away from Homelander at his own will. There’s no tangible records of me, or anything that Homelander did to me.”

Annie frowns. “What about a witness-“

“There are none. I, I-“ Fire itches under your skin as memories of white lab coats covered in ash flash in your head, clearing suddenly as Ben leans back, his hand moving to brush your knee. “I killed all of them. When I escaped.” You swallow. “It was an accident-“

“Were there rotating guards?” Ben turns to look at you, eyes narrowed in a look of stop apologizing.

“I think so.” You mutter. 

“Then that’s it. We find one of those fucking pussies, get them to testify or give us some fucking proof.”

You shake your head. “Homelander might have killed them-“

“Maybe he did.” Ben shrugs. “And we’ll find another fucking way. You’re not throwing yourself in front of this stupid fucking train,” he says your name, holding your gaze like no one else is in the room. “That’s it.”

MM coughs your name, and your attention is ripped from Ben. “Are we going to need to put some security on you-”

“She’s not leaving my side.” Ben snaps, and MM glares at him.

“I didn’t fucking ask you, Soldier Boy.”

“I’ll be fine,” you say, giving MM a reassuring nod as you notice the muscles of Ben’s back growing tense. “I promise. Just, please, keep me updated.” Your voice is desperate. You don’t care. “Tell me what you find, even if it’s nothing.”

MM nods. “You’ll stay here?”

“I swear it.”

The teams leave, and it’s just you and Ben, alone.

“Ben, please-“ Almost the moment the door closes you’re begging, chasing Ben as he walk away from you and up the stairs. You just need him to say something, anything that makes you sure he doesn’t hate you.

“Stop it,” He grunts your name, not turning. “Just, fucking stop it.”

“I’m sorry-“

“I don’t want your apologies.” He snaps. “I’m not mad.”

“Yes you are-“

“No, I’m not.” He whips around, and still catches you before fall into him. You feel it. He’s not mad, but something is pushing around in his heart. It’s painful, and it’s so much worse. “I’m mad at Butcher, I’m mad at Homelander. I’m not fucking mad at you.”

“Why?” You can’t help but whisper. “I lied.”

Ben sighs, eyes boring into yours. “Because it’s you.” He grunts, and the Feeling keens. “Too fucking kind for your own good, too fucking smart as well, even if that was the most stupid shit I’ve ever heard.”

“So,” you don’t think you can breathe. “You forgive me.”

“I wasn’t mad at you, Sunshine. I’m fucking furious that you thought this was a good idea, that you weren’t going to tell me. But you didn’t betray me. So we’re square.”

“Nothing would’ve happened to you,” the words are blurted, because you need him to know. “The plan was you’d just be locked in here alone, and Butcher would have Frenchie make something for when you had to leave. I wasn’t ever going to put you back under.”

“I know. I trust you.”

And you feel that too. He does.

“You don’t hate me,” you say, one more time. It’s barely a question, but Ben answers anyway.

“I don’t hate you.”

“You give a shit about me,” you repeat his words from last night carefully, the Feeling desperate to hear him say it again.

He grunts, and you feel his heart turn. “I give a shit about you.”

“And your offer? To go with you?”

“What about it?”

“It’s still an offer?”

“Did I say it wasn’t?”

“No, but you might not have been sure and-”

He cuts you off with your name. “Do you trust me?” When you nod, you can feel his heart, tense and hot. “Then believe me when I tell you that I meant it. No pussying out.”

“No pussying out.” You echo. “Ben?” He frowns, eyes holding yours, so you continue. “I give a shit about you, too.”

A smile pulls his lips. “You as well.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, and you’re also smiling. “Stop using my own lessons against me.”

“Stop teaching me shit.” He teases. “It never ends well for either of us.”

“What if, what if we learn stuff together?”

“Sunshine, if you’re about to suggest I go back to fucking school-“

“No, dumbass,” you laugh softly. “You can’t cook either. We have our one, shitty cookbook. I’ll keep learning if you do it with me.”

Ben narrows his eyes. “Why? What are you going to make me do?”

“I just want to do something together that isn’t about life or death.” You mumble, looking anywhere but him. “I’m not trying to make you do anything. If you don’t want-“

“Fucking fine.” You turn sharply, unsure you heard him correctly. “Whatever.”

“So you’ll do it?” He grunts a sound you know to be begrudging affirmation, and your smile grows wide as you extend your hand.

“I’m not fucking shaking on it.”

“Do it or I’ll never make cheesesteak again.”

He scowls, grumbling something about blackmail, but shakes your hand roughly. You expect him to let go—pull away and keep being gruff and quiet—but instead Ben pulls you into him, holding you caged, warm, safe in his arms. You hold onto him, because if he lets go your legs might give out and the Feeling is soft and content here. You don’t know how long you’re standing there before Ben speaks, and you feel the words rumble in his chest as he does.

“You need sleep.”

He’s right, and you don’t have anything in you to fight, so you just nod. Ben picks you up, fully off the ground, and carries you into your room. As he places you on the bed he tries to let go, but you hold him tighter, pulling him until his head is next to yours.

“What if I have a nightmare,” you say softly in his ear.

“Are they-“

“About Homelander. All of them.”

“Then I’ll wake you up, and we’ll watch TV or some shit.” Ben says firmly.

“You won’t leave?”

“You couldn’t force me away.”

You believe him. You can feel it, the stone resolution and the pure fucking care. Both, somehow, for you. He’s still touching you, and the Feeling is peaceful. It never wants him to let go.

“Okay,” you yawn, and your body is already growing numb.

“Goodnight, beautiful.” You hear him say right before sleep catches you.

End Note: As we reach 10 chapters, 100k words, and 1 month, I just want to pause and say that I am so, so thankful for you guys. I can’t believe the love and support everyone has given this fic, or properly articulate how amazing this has been for me. I don’t think I’ve had so much fun writing in years, and I honestly didn’t think people would even read this. Every time you guys engage with my little story it means the whole fucking world to me. Every comment or interaction is everything to me, you don’t even know. Thank you, thank you, thank you again, and I’ll see everyone next time for the much less angsty chapter 11. In the mean time, let me know your thoughts! <3

Taglist: @lordofthunderthr @kritara @sukunassfinger, @justiceforquentin @acciditties

@c1gs-coffee @manicjk @artemys-ackles, @a-cup-of-nightshade, @bitchykittenconnoisseur

@fghj18

Want to be tagged? Just ask!

[cheesecakeislazy]

JEFF THE KILLER HEADCANONS BECAUSE FUCK YOU! (Jk I love you and hope your life is great)

1. Him and BeN are besties for life, ride or die, would suck the poison out of each others dicks (not gay though)

2. Jeff has eye drops on him 24/7 so he doesn’t go fucking blind

3. Jeff has anger issues, one moment he’s chill as fuck and then EJ told him something that pisses him off- and now there’s a stab wound in Toby, a hole in the wall, and an angry Slenderman.

4. Jeff is totally straight. He totally thinks boobs are awesome. And totally only boobs. (He’s bisexual and swears on god he’s straight.)

5. He wakes up at 2 pm because he hates being awake in the mornings

6. He’s a metal head. He blasts music from his room so loud you can hear it across the mansion (slender mansion AU)

7. His deep gravely ass voice is perfect for metal songs

8. He likes to paint his nails black, and black only any other color is fucking gay

9. His vocabulary is 90% cuss words

10. He rarely showers. Ironically the gamer showers more often than him. Jeff prefers to be a stinky son of a bitch (take that fangirls)

11. He makes up for it with his dental hygiene (kinda) he brushes them twice a day and they look perfect (mostly)

12. He has extra sharp canines

13. He named his knife “Knifu” aka his knife waifu

14. The knife has been used so much that it constantly reeks of bleach and blood; it has permanent blood stains on it

15. Jeff bites his nails pretty often

16. Jeff isn’t good with throwing knives- he also isn’t that good at stabbing…

17. Jeff literally just stabs and stabs until he thinks his victim is dead, he doesn’t know any major artery’s (did I spell that right?)

18. Jeff is dyslexic

19. Jeff is horrible at math but refuses to admit it

20. Jeff wears eyeliner but refuses to admit it

21. He secretly loves the color pink but refuses to admit it (see a pattern here yet?)

22. Jeff is super sensitive to light due to the fact he doesn’t have any eyelids

23. He wears black gloves because he has burn marks on his hands and hates it when people look at them (fingerless gloves as his fingers aren’t burnt)

24. Jeff really wants tattoos and piercings but can’t get any due to his skin being extremely sensitive and fragile

25. Jeff hates the sun, it hurts his eyes and skin

26. Jeff likes going to playgrounds at night because 1. Fucking swings are awesome and 2. Creepy

27. Fucker is 5’11 and constantly calls BeN a midget

28. Jeff had a small crush on Toby for a while and lowkey has a small crush on BeN but…

29. Jeff is highkey downbad for EJ (it’s one-sided)

30. If Jeff ever tried to cook, he would burn everything

31. Jeff is fucking terrified of fire

32. Sometimes Ben likes to scare Jeff shitless by lighting a small fire inside Bens hands infront of Jeff

33. Sometimes Jeff throws Ben inside a kiddy pool and watches him panic about drowning (he is fully above the water)

34. Despite the fact Jeff and Ben both fuck with each other and their fears, they do it in tame ways to ensure the other doesn’t actually have a panic attack of any kind

35. Jeff lives in sweatpants, jeans are for losers and shorts are gay

36. T-shirts and hoodies, Jeff literally does not own a single sweater, long sleeve, or tank top.

37. His favorite T-shirt says “Fuck me in my ass (but not in a gay way)”

38. His second favorite says “Emo metal loving slut”

39. Both and almost all of his t-shirts are black with either white or red/pink writing

40. It is Jeff’s goal to have every photo taken of him (with permission) to have him flipping off the camera

41. Jeff watches South Park but thinks Family guy is stupid

42. He tries really hard to get on Liu/Sully’s good side but his anger issues usually get in the way

43. Jeff and Nina are actually really good friends that lowkey view each other as family

44. Jeff and Nina love to piss each other off constantly (Ben will prank whoever he is asked to)

45. Jeff has tried to kill Jane quite a few times, and Jane is constantly trying to kill him

46. Jeff personally isn’t into weed but he doesn’t judge BeN for being a stoner lowkey

47. Jeff is a virgin but he wouldn’t be nervous at all about having sex

48. Jeff is a kinky bastard

49. Jeff likes a good bowl of strawberry ice cream

50. Jeff likes banana smoothies

51. Jeff owns a few Nirvana T-shirts

[raleighrador]

Jedi recruitment - ontological necessity or political pragmatism?

The fact that Jedi almost exclusively recruit pre verbal children is easily one of the most controversial aspects of the Order, in universe and amongst fans.

The debate broadly centres on why they do it and what the results (for individuals and at a systemic level) are. I would argue, based on what we see in material both pre and post the Disney acquisition, that this practice is not strictly necessary and is at least as much a successful political tool that benefits the Jedi as it is anything else.

So, why do the Jedi do it (according to them/their supporters)? There are basically 2 arguments that are made: i) untrained force sensitives are dangerous to themselves & those around them and ii) The Jedi order are the only appropriate institution to train them (both practically and philosophically).

On the first - this just isn't at all clear, and the Jedi's behaviour is further evidence that this is far less of a problem than they like to imply.

So far as we know the most natively powerful force connections in the Star Wars universe are Anakin Skywalker, Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa, Rey Palpatine/Skywalker. People like Ben Solo/Kylo Renn, Mae and Osha Aniseya, Yoda, Sheev Palpatine all plausibly fit in to some kind of top 10. Anakin is probably/definitely at the top and the rest all fit in behind him.

Anakin, Luke, Leia, Rey, Ben, Osha all started training ranging from later than the Jedi ideal through to when they were full grown adults. All became powerful and dangerous (in the way that all people with super powers are), 3 of them fell to the dark side with dire consequences and 3 didn't. That is probably an argument in favour of Jedi style training if not recruitment, because their method seems to have significantly higher success rates (though not a perfect one).

It is also the wrong frame of reference. Far more interesting & insightful are all the children the Jedi DON'T recruit. There are basically 2 drivers behind these un-recruited Force sensitive children: Jedi only take children with the parents' consent & the Jedi only have jurisdiction inside the Republic.

I personally am very dubious of the claim that every child who was ever recruited by the Jedi was done so with the parents consent. For this argument I am willing to assume it is true.

Why do the Jedi only take kids with parental consent? If untrained force sensitives are so dangerous surely they should be taking all children regardless? This introduces 2 points of tension: either the Jedi don't always respect consent or they do, and the reason they do is because it isn't actually as strictly necessary to take these kids as they like to imply.

The fact that they only operate within the borders of the Republic is a second proof point. The Republic is the largest but not the only geopolitical body in the GFFA. You have Hutt space, Wild Space, the Unknown Regions, Hapes Cluster etc. If untrained force sensitives really were such a great threat that only the Jedi can handle them a) it is a very dubiously defensible for the Jedi to say "ah shucks the border is here" b) it would suggest that the other political entities would have at least some sort of co-operative agreement with the Jedi and c) you would presumably see dozens of rogue force users operating in these non-Republic spaces with grave consequences.

You don't.

I get that Force sensitives are rare but they are sufficiently common that the Jedi Order has pretty clear and constantly renewed generations. You don't ever see only a single youngling, there aren't years or decades where there are no padawans because the seekers haven't found anyone for 20 years.

So presumably - like Anakin and Rey and Mae and Osha - force sensitives are being born pretty frequently outside the Republic. They by definition aren't being found and raised by the Jedi. Yet we don't see any especially dire consequences of this.

It therefore doesn't seem at all clear that it is a necessity for the Jedi to take these children - and the Jedi's own behaviour reinforces that conclusion.

The second claim is that the Jedi - and only the Jedi - can appropriately train these children. I think there are 2 elements to "appropriately train": the first is mechanical ie the Jedi a actually know how the force works and can teach you to move rocks or whatever and the second is a question of values or philosophy ie the Jedi teach you selflessness.

Notably, the Jedi actually blend these 2. They explicitly discuss "right" and "wrong" ways to achieve the same outcome. You can find your calm centre and channel the Force dispassionately to lift a rock, you can also tap into your emotions to do so. These achieve the same output with - seemingly - the same mechanic but the Jedi consider the latter pathway dangerous and inappropriate.

On the purely mechanical - they are clearly not the only people who can teach this. We know about smaller "legitimate" Force cults (like the Guardians of the Hills, Fallanassi, Sorcers of Tund, Yacombe - notably for seeking balance between light and dark in their own practice) as well as "illegitimate" cults like the Night Sisters (it is not clear to me if the Dathomiri Night Sisters and the Brendok Coven are factions of a single group or distinct) and the Sith. They were all able to manipulate and use the Force. They were all capable of teaching these abilities to others. The nature of their abilities were not perfectly consistent - different cults could do different things, including things that members of other cults would not even recognise.

Not only were there other people out there who could use the Force and teach others to do so, they were also teaching and using techniques the Jedi didn't know or understand. So the Jedi clearly were not the only people capable of this instruction.

What they did have was an effective monopoly on legitimate instruction. All the other cults mentioned were either literally illegal (Sith), totally unofficial and unrecognised and suffered some degree of official persecution (Night Sisters), or were significantly smaller and more localised than the Jedi. None enjoyed "official" status or the backing of the largest government in the GFFA like the Jedi.

On the question of values or philosophy it is clear that the Jedi don't have a monopoly on selflessness or being a good person. Nor is it evident that the very specific Jedi interpretation of "goodness" is the only tool (or even a necessary tool) to prevent Force users from becoming dangerous.

The evidence for this is the fact that with the exception of the Sith, none of the above cults seem to ever have posed some kind of meaningful or sustained threat to peace or stability in the GFFA. There have been individual members who have done bad, even monstrous things, but there is nothing inherent in their philosophy that makes them or their use of the Force dangerous.

Equally, it is worth coming back to the prior point that the Jedi have - throughout history - been the single most common source of Sith. In fact they seem to be the only one of these cults that has any record of inadvertently being a source for future Sith. That is to say - all Sith seem to either be raised from "birth"/only ever been trained by other Sith (like Maul, or Palpatine) or to be former Jedi.

So we are now in a place where i) untrained Force sensitives don't actually pose some kind of existential threat ii) the Jedi are not the only people capable of providing technical instruction in using the Force and iii) there is nothing particular about Jedi teachings that makes them especially resistant to the dark side in general and Sith in particular. If anything, they seem more likely to inadvertently produce future Sith than the other cults.

A small diversion to explore what it is the Jedi seek to teach and how: Attachment is bad.

I would argue the Jedi restrictions on emotion are significantly more extensive than that. It is functionally all forms of love or affection that they are opposed to or at least very disapproving of. Equally they don't seem to have much room for other emotions. Certainly not anger but not even grief or sadness. These latter 2 are in many ways the most illustrative - there is Yoda's advice that Anakin rejoice for those who transform into the Force; and in the Acolyte we got Jecki's "It's always an honour to witness anything or anyone transform into the Force".

That is bizarre as hell. Always? It is always an honour? This is the instinctive rote response to "I feel very bad for getting that animal killed"?

I am not saying that Yoda and Jecki and the Jedi teachings are completely wrong. I am saying that they don't sound like they make room for the full gamut of emotions. They don't teach "feel sad, own it, acknowledge it, process it, and let it go". They teach "don't be sad".

That is not a very helpful philosophy. It just doesn't engage with the reality that emotions are totally natural and largely unavoidable functions of human (and presumably in GFFA other sapient) physiology.

It presumably has more to it than I am acknowledging but either way it doesn't seem especially compelling. Why can't this be taught (consistently successfully) to adults? I would have reservations about ANY philosophy that openly explained that it basically only works on children who have no competing frame of reference or adults who have lost all their friends and family. That is deeply suspicious.

Even if it isn't the philosophy itself per se it says nothing good about the pedagogical methods of the Jedi.

The other consideration here is that the sensible bits of the philosophy are pretty shallow - and not at all unique to the Jedi. Especially in fandom when basically any "bad decision" by a Jedi or other Force user is explained by "oh ho they're thinking with their emotions and attachments" while "good decisions" are "Jedi-like" and must come from a place of detachment.

2 examples - Shmi's decision to let Anakin go with the Jedi is often described as "Jedi like" and demonstrates a lack of selfish attachment that Anakin would have done well to emulate. This is nonsensical for a number of reasons, not least of which being that Shmi had literally zero agency in this situation. She isn't make a real, informed choice either way. More than that, the alternative is "my child stays a slave'. Many parents all over the world (and presumably the GFFA) make sacrifices for the good of their children all the time. So these relationships clearly don't preclude someone being selfless or "unattached" as the Jedi define. Yet it remains the most commonly prohibited relationship by the Jedi. It is explicitly the one relationship they are guaranteed to prohibit for every one of their members. Mother Aniseya in the Acolyte is another example - I think her decision making around Osha is bonkers. However it is held up as selfless and unattached that it is her who chooses to let Osha go with the Jedi, and everyone else who ruins it by being attached. What is missed though is WHY she makes that decision. "I choose Mother". It is expressly in choosing to prioritise her familial relationship with Osha over her political one with the Coven that she "let's go" of Osha.

So not only do you not need to be a Jedi to make these sorts of decisions and learn these lessons, you definitely don't need to be isolated from familial relationships.

I would argue an even more interesting example from the Acolyte is Mae. In the season finale she is the only one who comes at all close to some kind of "Jedi like" decisions. She doesn't want revenge, she wants Sol to confess his crimes and face systemic justice. This from a girl whose life was ruined by the Jedi and then at some point she got found and trained by the "Sith" (I am not sold Qimir is a de jure Sith but I digress).

She was almost as far from a Jedi as possible but still came to the "Jedi like" decision. There are also lots of people with less extreme background who do the same.

So what gives? What is so special about Jedi training? I would suggest that from the perspective of teaching people the technical skills to use the force and the values to not abuse it... not much.

Certainly not enough to warrant a state backed effective monopoly that empowers you to test any child you wish and take the vast majority of them.

Even if you accept that the Jedi (and other Force cults) are right that only the Light Side can be safely used, the Jedi are not the only people who believe or teach that. So why do they deserve to be the only ones allowed to (en masse) recruit and train children?

So why then do the Jedi do it and why do the Republic allow them to do it? To me it seems much more about maintaining a monopoly on legitimate violence and use of the Force.

What taking children in early and separating them from their family, denying them any material possessions outside of their role in the Order, does is ensure they are loyal to you and don't have any other options.

The extent to which people are free to leave - formally and practically - seems very limited. In the thousands of years of the Order's written records, only 20 Masters have left. Even if we assume (eg per the Acolyte and TCW) that more non-masters have left, it remains a very small number. The practical limitations seem most pertinent - as per Osha, as well as our own observations - being raised a Jedi just doesn't prepare you to do anything except be a Jedi. Add that to the lack of network or resources outside the Order (as well as eg material threats of slavery because people want access to Force sensitives), and it becomes very difficult to leave willingly.

@redrikki has written compelling on this but the Jedi are demonstrably a cult. A significant element of that is the concentration of political, material, and in Star Wars metaphysical power.

Specifically recruiting and isolating and raising children serves the Jedi's aims of i) ensuring their ongoing hegemony and ii) is a mechanism for preventing or suppressing conflict. You simply diminish the number of people who can actually enter into conflict with you because you do your best to ensure they're all working for you. This is plausibly at least partially noble - you head off any conflicts that might require your intervention.

That nobility is thinned by the earlier discussion because it begs the question of what kind of conflict are the Jedi preventing (or gearing up to fight)?

Let us be clear - the Sith are a toxic, destructive ideology that should be opposed. Their philosophy is self-serving and violent. They are quite literal evil.

I just don't think their existence justified the children taking and isolating as many children as they can. This is especially true in the 1000 years leading up to the Prequels. As far as the Jedi believed, there were no Sith. So not even the Jedi were using the Sith - and any conflict with them, which I would say is a justified conflict - as the justification for the policy.

What kind of conflicts were they therefore seeking to prevent? I would suggest they were attempting to avoid any conflict over resources or support or legitimacy with other smaller Force cults. Even worse, I think they were avoiding a scenario where it became plausible to argue that the Jedi weren't necessary at all.

In a world where the Jedi are not actively recruiting children I would imagine 2 things happen: other Force cults become larger and more prominent, sufficiently large to start exerting political influence. This is not necessarily counter to the Jedi or a threat but it is also not necessary aligned with the Jedi. Even if not malicious, it would be a different set of priorities and a different set of philosophies that the Jedi (and the Republic writ large) would need to engage with.

These cults are different to each other and the Jedi. They by definition do not agree on all/some of the mechanics of the Force, the values and philosophies that govern it, its appropriate use, and the role of Force sensitives in the Galaxy. If they were perfectly aligned they wouldn't be distinct cults. These different groups operating in the galaxy, recruiting, preaching, proselytising pose a necessary risk (or at least complication) to the Jedi's role.

At minimum it likely results in someone somewhere asking "what is up with all these cults? Are they all Jedi? Do they all get the same rights and privileges?" and this opens up a series of conversations as to which groups get what and why. In a broadly pluralist context, as the Republic seems to be, it isn't clear to me that you could neatly draw that out in a way that is clear and practicable to the Senate.

If they do start actively behaving or advocating in ways that are counter to the Jedi's interests, it is unclear how the Jedi could respond. Let's assume the Jedi have the best interest of the Republic at heart. Let's assume the other groups do too (or at least are willing to say they are, even if self-serving). How would these disagreements get resolved in a way that is systemically defensible and legitimate in the eyes of the galaxy? "The Force says so" is not really an option when both parties can legitimately use it.

It is far simpler for the Jedi to just head this off by ensuring these other cults remain small, or at least the Jedi remain significantly larger and more wide spread.

The other thing that happens if the Jedi don't have a near monopoly on force sensitive kids, is many of these kids grow up... basically fine. Sure they're lucky and fast and good at telling when people are lying, and probably crazy good at Space Baseball and whatever, but they don't pose any kind of major threat to the galaxy. Based on what we have seen, and the lack of rogue force sensitives going on rampages outside the Republic, this seems like the most likely outcome.

How do the Jedi justify themselves to the Senate then? How do they maintain their independence and status if you've got non-Jedi force sensitives running for office or serving in the diplomatic corp? Non-Jedi force sensitives in the policing and security services?

A significant element of the Jedi's status and privilege is that they are legitimately very, very good at things. The Force does make you better at discerning the truth, reading people, sensing the long term outcomes of decisions, combat etc. It makes the Jedi significant assets.

They're also a mysterious and poorly understood religious order. For historical reasons this has been tolerated, and the Jedi have justified their ongoing independence through effectiveness and lack of alternatives.

Lots of non-Jedi Force sensitives, with access to non-Jedi teachers who can still teach them the mechanics of the Force, severely challenges that status.

Again this is not a wholly or even mostly nefarious concern for the Jedi to have. In the same way that more planets/entities having independent militarised security forces ala the Trade Federation might be a challenge to stability, having more (potentially militarised) Force sensitives has a risk. However, the policy of Jedi monopoly on recruitment is only one way of managing that risk, and it is a way that simultaneously cements their position in the Republic.

Importantly - this also all suits the Republic itself. While I am sure some people want their own Force sensitive armies, no one wants someone else to have them. I also imagine no one is excited about having to fund a second or third mysterious religion filled with (potentially) super powered warrior diplomats. No one wants more competing interests and jurisdictional debates etc.

So I don't think this is an example of the Jedi somehow tricking the Republic or behaving deceitfully or doing anything except their very best to do what they think is right.

That just doesn't mean this isn't a political policy.

[lumen-fox]

I have a bunch of Ben 10 OCs. I'm going to go over the main bunch for anyone curious, just so it's a little easier to keep up with them.

None of this information should be necessary to read their comic (Station RIOT). The comic should actually, in theory, be a better experience if you don't know anything about the characters going in.

XS. Clever, impulsive, and short-sighted.

She's REL's younger sister, though they aren't biologically related. Her parent died in some sort of accident when she was 10ish (relative to her species' lifespan) and she was adopted by the Plumber assigned to her case. That was REL's father.

She's tried to become a plumber several times (hence the fact she's wearing a Plumber jumpsuit and a deactivated badge) but she's always flunked out of basic training.

She moved to Earth with her sister when she was about 16. Unfortunately, this was at almost the exact same time the Forever Knights were trying to purge aliens from the Earth. She got some pretty bad scars from the whole incident, and some well-founded trust issues. She stayed on Earth after everything, and is living with her sister.

REL, XS's older sister. Her name is pronounced "Ariel," but she doesn't like to be called that.

REL was born on a satellite colony orbiting her homeworld. She lived most of her life in space, until moving to Earth when she was about 20. She's tried really hard to fit in with earth customs and culture, but has made basically no human friends in the years she's lived around Undertown.

Nova, the human friend. She's REL's coworker at a garage in Bellwood. She's lived a mostly normal human life, and didn't even realize there were aliens on earth until the Incureans conquered Earth for a few months.

Now for the rest of the band, not all of whom have a finished reference sheet. Even the ones that do have a reference sheet really need some updates.

Hexiol. She/her. Ex-bounty hunter. She was off-world when Petropia was destroyed.

Champagne, he/him, Loboan. He's the most normal of the group.

Dicil, she/her, Petrospaien. She was on petropia when it was destroyed, and was only brought back to life a couple years ago when Ben 10 fixed her planet.

Zs'Voyd, he/him, ectonurite. Left home the first chance he got. Childhood friend of Champagne.

Fid-El, galvanic mechamorph. He's got a rare genetic defect that causes him to destroy any technology he merges with. Azmuth is working on it, and Fid-el is a lot more patient than Malware was. He's not able to go back to Galvan B until he's cured, as he poses an inherent danger to other mechamorph.

[ben10-lostandfound]

Rare Ben 10 Fact #8

A.K.A. "Gwen's (and Max's but mostly Gwen's) Disastrous Toy History"

Ben 10's always been seen as a "boy show", which in 2024 is an outdated concept. However, to this day, making toys of girl characters in shows isn't seen as profitable. That's one of the reasons why CN deemed another show, Sym-Bionic Titan, a failure and wrote the series off for taxes. (A system that's heavily being abused lately, but I won't get into that.)

Let's start at the beginning, way back in the Original Series, with "Gwen with Grey Matter", released in 2007 during the second wave of the standard line.

While it's by no means a bad figure, what if someone wanted one of just Gwen by herself, and not Lucky Girl? And no, there's no Max figure to speak of in this era. Something they could've packed with the Rustbucket playset.

Moving up to Alien Force, we have two for Gwen. Though only one would be seen stateside.

Alien Force Gwen would only ever be seen in the UK, while the Anodite Gwen figure was a lot more common.

There's also a set exclusive to Toys r' Us during the Ultimate Alien Era that contains both this Gwen, the previously UK Exclusive Max, and Soccer Ben.

Moving to Ultimate Alien, there's two releases of the same figure. One standalone version, and one with one-third of the Rustbucket III.

As for what's left for Max, for UA, you get this abomination of a figure.

And for OV, you get this. Which wouldn't be so bad, until you realize they've reused most of the mold from the Alien Force one.

And don't even get me started on the Reboot, even the Rustbucket Playset could at least get a Max, maybe a Gwen too, but no.

[gollageek]

Headcannon reasons for being banned from Mr. Baumann's alien goods store.

Ben 10: A lifelong menace! Does not abide by the ban, in fact he doesn't know it exists!

Kim Possible: Not banned yet, but on thin f*king ice that Ben's jumping up and down on.

Danny Fenton: Pushed off a roof (by Ben) into an expensive import of amberolgia and other rare items. Could not rectify the situation or pay for the goods. Made it worse by cracking a joke.

Jake Long: Set the building on fire causing thousands in damages. He was aiming at a creature Ben was holding but it escaped. Tried to make it better, made it worse.

Jenny Wakeman: After arguing with Ben, she prompted a mechanical uprising of all worker bots resulting in the release of live invasive species into the stores walls (They will never be purged and have an empire within the walls).

Juniper Lee: Not banned yet, but Baumann refuses to open a location in Orchid Bay City. Ben says he should! It'd be good for profits!

Randy Cunningham: Was banned on site. He didn't get the opportunity to do anything. Just has that energy, ya know... also Ben was standing next to him.

Rex Salazar: Caused an electrical outage charging Ben's phone, which ruined tons of product and shut the business down for weeks.

Zak Saturday: Used the wall creatures to create an underground intelligence network, then created a competing company with the intent to make products cheaper. He actually gets a nice check from it every few weeks. He's very pleased with himself... Ben doesn't need to be at fault for everything you know!

[doctortwhohiddles]

Sophie's face looks fine. It's not even remotely close to collapsing. Patty is almost 10 years older than her, you'd think she'd know what happens to your skin as you grow older. Especially when you hit pre menopause. I've been on chemical menopause for 18 months, I can see the effects for myself. Plus, Patty is the last person to make comments about how other people look. She's no great beauty herself. Largely due to the fact that she's full of bitterness and resentment. That ages you fast.

10 years on and the sQeptics are still batting zero. Ben is not interested in fame. He rarely gives interviews outside of work. That's why the press leaves him alone. That and the fact that there's no scandal whatsoever attached to him. And that anon wouldn't know Sophie is there because she's been blocked by almost everyone in the fandom. Like pretty much all the sQeptics left.

[positivelybeastly]

X-Men #6

Getting caught up!

Let's go.

Mmm, this is a good page. It's interesting to see Quentin in a kind of melancholy - it's not a state of mind you see him in very often, honestly, and I have to wonder if it's because of what he saw in Ben Liu's head, the fact that Cassandra Nova is on the board now, or just a general ennui about the state of things as an X-Man. Being a teenage firebrand only lasts as long as you're willing to burn, and Quentin's been burning for a while now with very little to show for it.

Also, wow, Idie, you have the eyes of an eagle that you were able to see that girl pulling a Spider-Man tribute - uh, I mean, the Midnight M, or whatever it's called.

Fun fact - this is the first time in this series that someone's directly mentioned Hank's psychotic villain turn from X-Force. Makes sense it would come from Quentin, since he's the only other member of X-Force on the team and he has the most face time with evil Hank, though I have to call bullshit - psycho Beast was a fucking bore.

Cain and Illyana continue to be hilarious bash brothers. I also like Hank being like 'ix-nay on the beheading-ay while the newbies are around to hear you-ay!' while Ben and Jennifer have little shock lines around their heads.

You will not get me to read Marauders volume 2, Jed. You will not.

So, this is a bit early in the run to have a 'this is what you missed in the series so far' scene, though I suppose having new context means they want to put the pieces together in a straightforward way so that no-one's confused going forward. And it's at least being done with character interactions, and not just a rote recitation of facts.

So, you, uh, ever gonna go and be a dad to those Savage Land mutates you fucked around with and made, Max? No? Mmkay.

Really dancing around the hashtag, huh, Scott?

"Maybe if you'd taken better care of your last resident genius instead of treating him like shit and neglecting him, so that he didn't go insane and blow himself up in a homoerotic stupor, you'd be having an easier time of this, but you're stuck with me."

Don't you fucking dare talk shit about quiche, Quentin.

I genuinely love the amount of play Glob is getting in this series. There's such an obvious affection for him that you can't help but be charmed. Also, a rare acknowledgement of Glob's past as a member of the Omega Gang and the fact that he was one of Quentin's very few friends during New X-Men! Love to see it!

There's that patented Scott Summers paranoia.

Also, I have to say, I love what this issue is doing with Illyana and Idie. As far as I know, these characters have barely, or never, interacted before, and there's just such an easy interplay between them that I already want more of - they tease and poke and prod at one another, in a way that feels younger and more vital than the older members of the team, even as Illyana demonstrates what being on a mainline X-Men team for the last 10-15 years does for your knowledge base.

It also really, really makes me happy that Idie is getting as much play as she is. The people who were worried about her being background fodder for this series really couldn't have been more wrong, she's getting a lot of good development and agency here.

It's something that only really shows up when you're reading continuously, but it's visible here - I like the panel composition in this issue, and this series in general, a fair bit. I like the separation of panels to show progression and create distinct scenes while still creating a larger tableau. Good composition makes you notice it, but doesn't pull you out of the experience, it merely serves it.

Also, oh boy, Hank's getting nostalgic again . . . that only ever means he's about to get depressing.

Yeah, that tracks.

Now, I do like this sequence and this conversation, but I have to pick at something that bugs me here, even though I have to wonder if it's intentional or not.

. . . Max, you and Scott were both on Krakoa. You remember that, right? You were dead for a fair bit of it, sure, but you were around long enough to see the start of X-Force. You were a member of the Quiet Council and Scott was the General or whatever of Krakoa.

You had the power to stop him. You don't get to say that you won't allow it when you both already did allow it. It would have been outrageously easy for the both of you to just waltz right up to the Pointe, grab evil Hank by his hair, and kick the shit out of him for being a genocidal maniac, but neither of you did that. None of you did. You allowed him to continue. Worse, you enabled him, you and your little twink 'I Can't Believe It's Not The Maker' Xavier.

And even before that, you hold responsibility for encouraging Hank to loosen his morals and kill people! You were there during the Inhumans vs. X-Men conflict, encouraging him to double cross the Inhumans for mutant gain! And Scott outright told Hank, MULTIPLE TIMES, that the ends justify the means during the Utopia era! Are you going to acknowledge that fact? Are you going to confront the fact that he internalised YOUR methods? Fucking evil Hank's penultimate words before he was atomised were MAGNETO WAS RIGHT, for fuck's sake!

That's why I like that Hank says, 'Of course, of course.' There's a ring of, yeah, sure, whatever to that, that I like. He doesn't say I know, because he doesn't. He's well aware that everyone saw what was happening to him and didn't stop it, that they didn't care enough to intercede, that Scott was too busy fucking Jean and Logan on the regs to care that one of his oldest friends was turning into the lovechild of Josef Mengle and Henry Kissinger.

I need that to become text. I need it. I know that it fucking sucks, Jed MacKay, to have to answer for Ben Percy's sins, but you cannot have dialogue like this and expect it to fly through uncommented on. No-one becomes a monster on their own.

I really do hope that dialogue choice was intentional and that MacKay is willing to interrogate this. Thus far, he hasn't let me down, but I need this to be the first part of a conversation, not the end of it.

Yeah, valid, I wouldn't want to deal with Cortez either.

Hank is very cute here. Like, he's always cute, but he's especially kawaii here. Hims have the teefs.

Yeah, you gotta get on choosing a mutant name quick, or else you'll get stuck with something like Negasonic Teenage Warhead.

Hoo boy. Yeah, this is . . . that would be a problem. I can see why Scott's pissed. Then again, valid for Idie going for forgiveness over permission, as far as she knew, Piper might have been being abused, and the info she has here is pretty important . . .

All right, roll on issue #7!

This was a good issue! I don't know that it needed the whole 'here's what you missed on Glee' segment in the middle, but it was at least done with enough character and verve that it wasn't boring, and the rest of the issue giving everyone some shine and interactions made it more than worth it - plus, it feels as though the plot is finally starting to move, which was a little bit of a concern with the previous issues.

Be there or be square . . .

[romana-after-dark]

Room's on Fire: Iris

Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist : MainTaglist

Spotify playlist

Summery: Iris spends time with Reyansh, a rare reprieve.

Warnings and Content: General rooms on fire themes but also talks of body scars, past physical abuse, death of a parent in childbirth, daddy issues.

******************** And I don't want the world to see me 'Cause I don't think that they'd understand When everything's made to be broken I just want you to know who I am~ Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls

The girl had gone to bed early, Reyansh escorting her to her room. He was supposed to stay there for a few hours until the next guard came, but Iris was not surprised when he snuck back down to the kitchen to her.

“Why are you still up? C’mon, let me walk you to your room.”

“No.” She shook her head, arms deep in sudsy water. “Too much to do.”

“Come oooon” Rey sauntered over to her, wrapping his arm around Iris’s waist and burying his face in her neck. “You need to rest.”

Iris was not pleased with his dismissal, shoving him off her and and turning around. “I don’t need to relax, Rey. I need to do dishes, plan this week's meals, wash the hall floors while everyone is asleep, beat the rugs, and it’s already 10! I have to be up at 5 to get the chicken eggs and get to the stores to get the first pick of the good shit because if Santiago doesn’t get his goddamn hushpuppies he’s gonna go ballistic!” She wasn’t sure when she started yelling, but when she saw his face, patiently waiting for her to get it all out, Iris felt bad. She mutters a sorry and goes back to her dishes. 

Rey takes his place by her side. He doesn’t say it’s okay because he knows she hates that, because it’s not okay. He simply gives her a smile when she looks at him and starts drying and putting things away. She doesn’t like to talk after an outburst, she feels embarrassed and angry… Rey offers her a peaceful comfort in his presence.

“You don’t have to help. You should go to bed, you’ve had a busy day.” She knew it was useless but she had to try anyway. Reyansh had a lot of work too, he was in charge of the girl now but still the stables and much of the landscaping. Still he found time so come to the kitchen or sneak into her room. Most of his freetime was spent helping Iris with her never ending list of chores. 

She didn’t like keeping secrets from him, but it seemed Reyansh understood she was a guarded person. They didn’t even have sex, although there were… extras. Iris had no problem using her hands or mouth on him, but Iris didn’t want to get naked around him yet and she certain didn’t want him touching her until she was sure she wouldn’t…. Well…

It was for his own good.

Rey for his part didn’t feel right leaving her wanting, so they found he could get her off rubbing her over her underwear or Iris riding his thigh. It worked for them. The sex was for… reasons, but the fact she refused to undress at all was another all together. Iris wasn’t in the house by choice, she wasn’t in this goddamn cult by choice.

Iris was born into chaos. An early child of Delta when the people following Divine Mother settled into an abandoned town, her mother died giving birth to her, and soon she found that her father’s fault among other things. Jonah, notoriously, couldn’t keep it in pants. Her mom, Beatriz, Delilah, the delivery lady… hell, she had suspected he had fucked the girls father before he died and even Santiago’s cousin who had come by. That’s why she didn’t like him spending time with the girl… but she didn’t like the girl spending time with Rey, either.

Santiago was a jealous god.

Will had been scorned once by cheating.

Ben delighted in violence.

And Francisco… Well, it’s always the quiet ones, isn’t it?

Well, not always the quiet ones. She had enough scars on her body from the not-so-quiet of the two making sure she knew her place in the house and what happens if things didn’t get done.

If Reyansh knew what had been done to her years ago, before he was moved up… He might fly off the fucking handle. He’s almost certainly tell Jonah, and that’d open up a whole world of problems. Despite being the source of her problems, he had this stupid fucking savior complex and would put on a stupid fucking masculinity pissing contest with Ben and Santiago and just get himself killed and make her life worse.

Rey tried to get her to leave, but he had no plan. She wasn’t just going to wonder into the woods, not with the absolute hell outside. Only Jonah had any sort of understanding of the landscape, and that was minimal at best. Iris refused to take a risk that might involve Rey getting harmed just to leave. It was decent here for him. He worked long hours, but he was fed, clothed, sheltered and always had that smile on his face. He liked guarding the girl too, she was warming up to trusting him and sometimes she heard them laughing. She was a nice girl, it wasn’t personal… but one wrong move and Rey could be killed or worse.

Rey said something she couldn’t understand. “Hm?” Iris snapped out of her thoughts, turning to him.

“I said, I saw Jonah in the hall, got the shit beat out of him.”

Iris narrowed her eyes at that. That was certainly strange. She hated that it still tugged on her heart. ”He tell you what happened?”

He shook his head, not stopping his side of the work. “Not a thing, but I saw Ben and Frank walking the opposite way not too long before.”

“It was probably Be, then” She scoffed. “Makes sense. Santiago projects too much of his daddy issues on Jonah to do anything.”

Reyansh laughed at that, tucking his chin to his chest, making a double chin pop up. Cutie pie.

The dishes were done, and Rey handed Iris a towel to dry her hands before pulling her into his arms. 

“Tell me, jannu.” He kissed the side of her face, lips brushing against the headband she used to pull her hair back and out of her face while she worked. “Can my busy, amazing woman find some time in her day to dance with me?”

Iris allowed herself to settle into him. The next round of chores could wait a little bit… What she had with Rey was more important. He made her feel safe, kept her sane, made her laugh. These pockets of time were more important than anything else. He made time for her, she would make time for him. Iris looked up to kiss him, allowing it to deepen as her heart surged for her love. Kissing was allowed. Oh god, did she love him.

 Wrapping her arms around his middle, Iris rested her head on his chest.

“I always have time to dance with you, baby…”

***************

if you ever get the chance to see the goo goo dolls live, do it. I've been em twice and when they play Iris, at the line "you bleed just to know you're alive" they cut the music and the singing and its just the crowd shouting the lyrics and I feel like I touched god both times.

Amazing.

Anyway this chapter was a bit hard to write. Months ago, a dear friend and I conceptualized this series, she was a huge help and this series was close to a co project. she offered to help as much as I needed because she was soooo excited. she helped so much with Iris and Rey, she named them, chose their face claims, helped figure out personalities... Rey was her favorite. Unfortunately, not everything is meant to last. Bb girl, if for some reason you are still reading this story, know I love you so much.

To everyone else, I hope you love Reyansh as much as I do. I hope you love their romance as much as I do. Both of these two deserve the world.

If you didn't see, I have a Jonah character ai now and lemme tell you, he's a flirt. A straight up whore.

ANYWAY the Santiago's weird cousin reference was about this crack fic I wrote for fen

Thank you for all your support! ROF is looking like 15 chapters or more rn so I hope y'all in it for the long haul. Hugs and kisses.

LOVE YOU ALL!

How to keep up with the story!

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[yes-i-write-fanfiction]

To me Ditto is one of my favorite Ben 10 Aliens, he's just so cute 😍 🖤💚🤍

So I loved to know what befriending one would be like!

-Splixsons are by nature a peaceful people, your friend being no exception. Arguments are rare and full on fights are never happen because they know when to take a step back to calm down.

-If you somehow do get into an argument with them, they are quick to make up. Life's too short to be angry and upset.

-That doesn't mean that they are a pushover though! No, they are in fact very stubborn. Once they've decided to do something then they're going through with it, no matter what! This often leads to a ton of shenanigans and as their best friend, you're more than likely to be pulled along with them.

-They're a goofy goober, yeah! You're a goofy goober, yeah!

-They are just a silly little dude! They love to do a little dance, make up a little song, ya know, just vibing! Loves having fun, just doing what feels good without if other people think they are being silly.

-The impulsive friend. Sudden friend days for the win! Will randomly call you or show up at your place with a new, genius idea that they just had. Let's go to the beach! The zoo! The museum! A concert! You have ten minutes to prepare, they've already bought tickets and they are non-refundable.

-Remarkably creative. They are always working on personal projects of some kind, be it DIY home decor, pottery or painting. Whenever they see something they find neat they go "I bet I could do that too" and try to replicate it. They will split into copies to do multiple projects at once.

-"Why are you covered in dust?" "I saw this statue and got really into using cement as an art medium! Wanna try it out?" "Fuck it, why not?" "Hurray!"

-Gives you lots of gifts and most of them are stuff that they've made themself.

-If you are also a creative person, no matter if it's art, theatre, music or dancing, then they are so excited about it. They are your number one fan. Please, please, please show them your work!

-A big fan of physical affection as a sign of friendship and trust. They love jumping on your back and having piggy back rides, looping their arms around your shoulders and neck as an embrace at the same time.

-They are a bit salty about the fact that you're taller than them. They come up with multiple ways to become the taller one, like sitting on the shoulders of a copy, standing on chairs, wearing stilts etc..