#and do not get me wrong I am not saying it is bad for people to move fandoms

[poorrichardjr]

Look, I want to believe the next four years, no matter how bad will just end in four years. As if the country will continue as it always has, no matter who is in control. I really want to believe that.

But, there is no way you elect an authoritarian fascist with as much backing as he has from the right-wing theocratic nutjobs and just see him walk away in four years. They are already telling people they are going to change the laws so they can elect Trump a third and fourth time, or just take the case to the solidly right-wing supreme court and argue that it is illegal to limit terms of presidents. You know what, as much as it takes to get an amendment through, why do you think the republicans in power won't decide they can do what they want despite the Constitution? They are already planning massive changes to how the government works including eliminating positions that are currently staffed by intelligent and seasoned individuals for political lapdogs.

That same mentality will trickle down to the way the House and Senate work. Once you start gutting one branch of government to work more like a tyranny, there is no reason to stop there, especially if the guy in charge is telling them they have to. The republicans are spineless little weasels, and if they believe they can get away with something so bold, they are absolutely going to do it.

We are not going to just have four bad years. Unless something drastic happens, we have just waved goodbye to the system we have lived under for nearly 250 years. I suggest people read project 2025, and then tell me how they plan to get away with it without breaking the government. They know it and wrote it down as to how they are going to break the government.

I don't say these things to be a downer or a doomsayer. I know what they are planning isn't going to be easy, but they are absolutely moving ahead with the foundations laid out in project 2025, which tells me, they never plan to have another consequential election. I hope and pray you are right and I am wrong. Until I see the system hold up against the coming assault, I will continue to believe we have willingly walked into the firing squad.

If it makes any of you feel better, Donald Trump will have an uphill battle to change the constitution. He will need:

-2/3 of Senators (67)

-2/3 of the House of Representatives (290)

-3/4 of the states (38)

In 2026, 33 senate seats will be up for grabs, and we’ll be able to vote for people who are against Trump and his ideals.

Breathe and remain hopeful because it’s not over. We can still fight and make Trump’s last four years hell.

[hotvintagepoll]

Trying to get more into old movies because of this blog (I only know about half of these people and feel like a poser) do you have good recommendations on where to start or is it just a situation where you watch stuff and find what you like as you go?

you are not a poser <3 i myself am just here for the hotties.

here is my quick and dirty list of fun films to start with if you're new to old movies. and of course if you like one of these, do try to find more stuff as you go! there's no bad way to try out old movies.

(this list is not official and is SUPER quick. i'm tagging for content warnings where I can, but if I forgot something let me know.)

"I want to watch something SILLY!"

The Court Jester (Danny Kaye, Angela Lansbury, Glynis Johns, Basil Rathbone)—everyone in this movie is hot. everyone is in fancy medieval dress, which makes them hotter. everyone here is very silly. You can stream this on Hoopla, last time i checked, so you might be able to stream it through your library!

Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang (Dick Van Dyke, Sally Ann Howes, Lionel Jeffries, Gert Frobe)—some people hate this movie and to them I say What Is Wrong With You. dick van dyke is a hot absent minded inventor who lives in a windmill with his two adorable children, his gorgeous sheepdog, and a grandfather who is categorically useless. it feels like the two films mary poppins (1964) and willy wonka (1971) had a baby and that baby was born on roller skates singing an old broadway showtune. this one has been showing up in some odd places lately—I think you can catch it on Tubi or Hoopla? It's definitely around.

Seven Brides for Seven Brothers (Jane Powell, Julie Newmar, Howard Keel, Russ Tamblyn)—my problematic fave. everytime i watch this i change my mind whether it's a sexist pile of garbage or a feminist paean, and fellas, today we're on the feminist paean bandwagon!! jane powell's millie is truly the star of the movie, she is the hero she drives the plot the narrative is on her side, and besides all that there are seven very hot men dancing next to her and six beautiful ladies making me bisexual. (on Tubi last I checked.)

The Duke Is Tops (Lena Horne, Laurence Criner)—I get a huge kick out of watching Laurence Criner and Ralph Cooper swindle everybody while also trying to put on a show; there's just something silly and sincere here, plus you get a ~musical extravaganza~ at the end when all is right as rain again. Free on YouTube I think?

"I want to watch something DRAMATIC that may make me FEEL SOMETHING."

Witness for the Prosecution (Marlene Dietrich, Tyrone Power, Elsa Lanchester)—I love a campy twisty turny mystery, don't you? :) I'm not going to talk about this one much because it's better to go in blind, but if you like Agatha Christie stories you'll probably like this.

To Be Or Not To Be (Carole Lombard, Jack Benny)—always relevant, always makes me laugh, also makes me cry. this takes place in poland during wwii so big tw for nazi imagery and mentions. (don't worry. this movie fucking hates nazis.)

Seven Samurai (Toshiro Mifune)—this one is Great Cinema™™™™™™™™™™™ for a goddamned reason

"I want to watch some stuff with the scrungles in it!"

Mr. Washington Goes to Town (Mantan Moreland)—I've been checking out more of Mantan Moreland's stuff because every time I see him in something I think he's delightful, and I really enjoyed this silly-spooky comedy. Does this story have a brain cell? No. Are the special effects and goofy slapstick fun? Yes. This is a fun example of an all-Black cast in a film that was made for Black audiences, and is a striking counterpoint to the stereotypical representation Black actors were given in white-targeted films, showing the enormous amount of talent and artistry the racist studios missed out on by excluding these actors. This is not A Great Film™ but it's still A Fun Time,™ with a goofy Laurel and Hardy type vibe. (It's free on Youtube.)

The Red Shoes (Robert Helpmann, Leonide Massine, Marius Goring)—hey kid, you wanna watch something fucked up? This movie is so fucked up. It's about ballet, it's about art, it's about technicolor, it's about dance and toxic relationships and making theatre and nightmares and ambition and death. A lot of these recs tend on the silly side (because I tend on the silly side) but this one is actually Serious Film and will definitely help you chat up Martin Scorsese should you ever meet him. Big content warning if you can't handle dark themes right now—this movie's pretty dark, not in the gore way but in the Haunting Creepy Image way. (it's also free on Tubi and Kanopy most of the time.)

The Invisible Man (Claude Rains)—my favorite of the vintage horror flicks and a great introduction to Most Dunked On Hot Vintage Man of All Time, Claude Rains. (it helps that you barely ever see him!) Very very silly but the special effects are just plain fun. (I think this is on Internet Archive in full?)

"Can I just get more hot people please?"

Flower Drum Song (James Shigeta, Nancy Kwan, Miyoshi Umeki, Jack Soo)—there are so many unbelievably hot people in this movie which is somehow very good (thanks to its cast) and also incredibly, horrifically bad (thanks to its white team of writers, directors, and producers). on the one hand, it's a mostly Asian cast in a big budget, beautifully designed MGM style musical! there's dream sequences, lots of fun dancing, crooning Rogers & Hammerstein cabaret moments, and just charm galore. it is also freighted with so. many orientalist assumptions and stereotypes, absolutely ridiculous shit that the writers ABSOLUTELY should have known better about in the 60s and nonetheless carried into this. this is a hard one to recommend because I loved this cast, and I loved seeing them in a context beyond the usual stereotypical bit parts so many of them frequently were limited to—yet the movie itself perpetuates so many stereotypes on its own it can be a hard one to watch, and I totally understand if it does not work for most people. tl;dr watch for Shigeta, Kwan, Umeki, and the others, but content warnings galore for one (really bad) case of yellowface casting, orientalist tropes, extremely stereotypical character types, etc. (On Tubi/Kanopy last I checked.)

Charade (Cary Grant, Audrey Hepburn, James Coburn)—this movie feels like a Hitchcock movie except I had a ton of fun watching it, which I can't always say for a Hitch film. (I told you my taste was bad.) This one is free on YouTube and thank god because Audrey wears a lot of Givenchy, Cary Grant wears spectacles and keeps almost dying, it's very exciting and thrilling and funny and sexy. I don't think there are any content warnings but it's been a minute since I watched it. (I should go watch it right now.)

The Big Sleep (Humphrey Bogart, Lauren Bacall)—they're so hot askjdljhjghladkghjksahkhgslkahgshskjhgsalhgsahgjh. i like this one a lot :)

[this is NOT A FULL LIST of all the hot vintage movies to start with but it might give you some starting places! i banged this out as quick as I could at 2 am, so apologies that it's sloppy and not perfect.]

[aspoonofsugar]

"I'm done blaming myself for your mistakes"

This line by Vi pretty much sums up her conflict in Act 1 of season 2, but I have yet to see it discussed. The point is, in fact, that Vi does blame herself, which is why she is unable to properly call Cait out. If Jinx specifically were not the one responsible for Cassandra's death, I doubt Vi would have stayed silent in front of Cait calling Zaunites animals or that she would have accepted many of Cait's actions without saying a word.

Vi still feels at fault for Powder becoming Jinx, which makes her vulnerable and willing to compromise on her morals, so that Caitlyn would not leave her. Ironically, I think this behavior is among the reasons why their love story does not work out in the first Act. They fail to communicate properly.

On the one hand Cait treats Vi badly. She insults Vi's people and insists that Vi should become an enforcer, despite her knowing of Vi's painful past. Obviously this is wrong, but personally I think it stems from Caitlyn's poor attempt to reconcile her love for Vi with her hate for Jinx:

"Three faces keep spinning through my mind. I see mother when they found her. And every fiber of me just sinks like in dark water. But then there is Jinx. Laughing. I want to tear that laugh from her throat forever. Then I see Vi. I asked her to put on the uniform. Suffice to say, she declined."

Cait's solution is to have be become a part of her society, so that she can keep on hating Jinx and the "bad" Zaunites, while loving Vi and the "good" Zaunites. Except it obviously does not work.

On the other hand Vi is unable to call Cait out. And the whole point is that Cait needed someone to call her out. She is grieving, but she is obviously becoming like the enforcers she once despised. Like the enforcers Vi despised. She negates Cassandra's legacy, by using her ventilation system to poison the air. She acts cruelly against a man, who is unharmed and who has clearly been hurt by that same gas she weaponized. She is ready to shoot a child (even if she does not intend to kill her), so that she can get at Jinx. Vi clearly sees all of this, which is why she asks Cait not to change:

Vi: Everyone in my life has changed. Promise me you won't change.

However, she fails to confront Cait about it all. Except that when you are in a relationship, you must feel secure and free to call the other person out. Even to get into a fight with the other person. Still, Vi is so terrified of losing Cait too, that she is indecisive. And in the end she is tragically left behind by Cait.

This happens because Vi herself has not yet decided who she wants to be. Is she a Zaunite or an Enforcer? Does she want to kill Jinx or not? Vi can't choose. Jinx even calls her out on this:

Jinx: Plastering my face all over, so someone else would do your dirty work?

She tells Cait she wants Jinx dead, but the moment she can kill Jinx she doesn't. Sure, Isha comes between them, but after Cait disarms Isha, Vi could pretty easily take Isha away from Jinx and let Cait kill her sister. However, she does not. That is clearly because she sees Powder in Isha. Jinx and Isha embraced are clearly representative of who Jinx is as a whole. She is an unstable terrorist, but she is also a hurt child. That is who Jinx is and that is what Vi (and Jinx herself) needs to see and to reconcile. Even now, Vi insists that Powder is dead and that only Jinx remains. However, Jinx is Powder no matter how much Silco, Jinx herself and Vi insist she isn't. She still clearly is.

It is just that Powder has changed, but this is normal. Just like it is normal Vi herself has changed and will need to change again, so that she can decide who she really wants to be. Just like Jinx and just like Cait will have to do.

As a side note, I am loving the foiling between Cait and Jinx. They have always been foils, but while last season focused on how this juxtaposition impacts Jinx, right now we are seeing how it impacts Cait.

In season 1, Jinx sees Cait as Vi replacing her. In a sense, Jinx's jealousy of Vi stems from that same inability to accept change. Jinx too deep down hopes she can go back to being the innocent Powder and that Vi can love her, like she did in the past. However, that is not possible because people change and forge new relationships. Jinx forges a bond with Silco she can't simply erase because Vi wants to. Just like she can't erase the one with Vi simply because Silco wants to. Similarly, Vi has a new bond with Cait that she can't break simply because Jinx asks her to. So, Caitlyn is really who Jinx wants to be. Someone complementary to Vi in battle, but also reliable, dependent, lovable. By the end of season 1, Jin realizes she can't really be that person anymore and interiorizes there is a part of her Vi can't understand. That same part Silco instead accepts.

Silco: Don't cry. You are perfect.

In season 2, Jinx becomes Cait's dark side. She is really Cait's Joker, as she is the one who challenges Cait's sense of justice and morals:

Cait: It's her blood in your veins. Vi: Then why are you the one acting like her?

Cait is letting grief and pain change her for the worse, just like Powder was transformed by her own losses and traumas. Cait keeps insisting she is different from Jinx, but she isn't. In fact, her whole fiasco kinds of hint at it symbolically. Cait poisons the underground city in her attempt to catch Jinx. Only for Jinx rewinding the ventilation system, so that the poison Cait used is sent back to Piltover. Jinx literally acts like Cait's mirror, which is why Cait's shot ends up hitting exactly this, a mirror. As in, Cait can't really kill Jinx without hurting both herself, Vi and the whole city :P

I am curious to see how their foiling will develop, now that both girls are growing into the leaders of their opposite factions.

[cityofmeliora]

the Terzo autism post ♾️

this is kind of an analysis post and kind of a headcanon post.

Terzo reads as autistic to me, especially during his first two concerts when he was speaking without a script and trying to figure things out.

Terzo has that "trying new things is scary and i need to feel like i'm getting a good grade at social interactions and everything has to be done correctly or i'm going to explode" flavor of autism.

[AFTER PERFORMING PRIME MOVER] PAPA EMERITUS III: How am I doing so far? I've been studying these moves so you would feel comfortable. Are you comfortable? Linköping, Sweden (June 3, 2015)

Terzo says he studied the choreography for 'Prime Mover' so the audience would feel comfortable. he's trying to do what people expect, and he keeps checking if he's doing alright and asking the audience if they like what he's doing.

[BEFORE PERFORMING ABSOLUTION] PAPA EMERITUS III: So, we're gonna finish this off with something as weird as a new song. What that delighting, or did you not like that? Yes. Good, good. Linköping, Sweden (June 3, 2015)

PAPA EMERITUS III: So, I know it might seem a little confusing –it's even a little confusing to me, sometimes– y'know, playing new songs for people who've never heard these songs. But I tell you what– we have a really good ending song that you will understand why it is an ending song when you hear it. But now it might seem a bit strange, huh? Sweden Rock Festival - Solvesborg, Sweden (June 4, 2015)

Terzo feels weird about performing new music because it's new and the audience doesn't know what to expect and neither does he. he keeps trying to assure the audience that it'll be okay. but i'm pretty sure he was the only person worried about it. he was about to release a new album, so it completely made sense that he would be performing new songs. he just hates not knowing what to expect, and it doesn't occur to him that not everyone thinks like him.

and then this clip... i think it speaks for itself, but let's talk about it anyway. (i included the audio because i really want people to hear him speaking here.)

PAPA EMERITUS III: Okay! We are now officially wrapping– with a song. It's not a rap song, though. [STUTTERS FOR SEVERAL SECONDS] I've heard from my brother that you are somewhat of a singing crowd. So you like singing, eh? That is fantastic because that is exactly what we're gonna do right now, and if you had said no, that would have been… weird. So thank you for not being weird and weirding me out. I'm weird enough as it is. Sweden Rock Festival - Solvesborg, Sweden (June 4, 2015)

like where do i even start with this. him thinking he needs to clarify he's not going to be rapping. the stuttering. the fact that he listens to what Secondo tells him so he knows what to expect. him saying "[...] if you had said no, that would have been... weird. So thank you for not being weird and weirding me out. I'm weird enough as it is."

he feels like a weirdo and he just wants things to be normal so bad. 😭

he also gets really irritated when people are incorrect / do things incorrectly. he has the literal / rigid thinking patterns characteristic of autistic people

PAPA EMERITUS III: Well, it's getting late. AUDIENCE: NOOO! PAPA EMERITUS III: Yes! It's not a matter of opinion. It is getting late. Sweden Rock Festival - Solvesborg, Sweden (June 4, 2015)

he tells the audience it is objectively true that it is getting late.

then there's the whole bit where he wants people to clap along to the music but he hates it if people clap wrong or don't clap with the correct rhythm.

and the bit where he asks the audience to say "Meliora" and emphasizes the correct pronunciation versus the incorrect pronunciation.

Terzo strikes me as someone who is constantly trying to perform a very intentionally constructed social personality, not only as an entertainer but as a person. and while he's naturally charismatic and charming, it's actually quite difficult for him to perform this public personality because he's constantly concerned with getting a good grade in social interactions and things being done correctly.

and there are all the quotes about Terzo being a recluse who only interacts with others as much as is strictly necessary. this is definitely clinical depression, but i think his autism is also a factor.

he got comfortable once he settled into a routine and created a script that he could repeat, though. after that, he was really on autopilot during his concerts. which is also so so autistic of him <3

[girlwithadragonheart]

I need to yap desperately about one single gripe I have with this game. MAJOR MAJOR MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD read at your own discretion

The first half is me ranting about how much certain things mean to me and how impacted I was, and the actual gripe comes closer to the end.

I'll preface this by saying this post is about Varric's death and my rage and despair regarding it, but more so about my Rook's.

I've seen people who said they picked up on the hints about whatnot, who knew before the Fade Prison. I was not one of those people. I was so relieved when I saw him after the Prologue that I didn't think twice, because I knew that it would destroy me the second shit started going wrong.

I was already not having a good time when I started the game simply because Varric was getting older. I don't handle aging well or death, and his design showing his age, and the comments he would make about "getting too old for this" just made my heart break.

And then shit got worse. I sobbed disgustingly when that knife went into Varric's chest.

After Rook woke up from talking to Solas and she heard Varric, I was so gods damned relieved. And my Rook was better taken care of by Varric in that year she spent with him than she was in the rest of her entire life.

I cried from the end of Ghilan'nain's fight until the romance scene and on and off after that. I got so used to visiting Varric just to be comforted by his presence. Inquisition was the biggest part of my life for a year and a half when I was just a kid.

I did really bad middle school age writing for it but regardless of the quality, those characters were built up in my head becoming even more than they were in the game. Varric was my biggest support character through everything I was going through at the time.

I don't talk about it much, but I didn't have a great childhood, and I know a lot of people didn't, but I coped with it through writing and video games. Varric was the one supporting me through the abuse I suffered and writing was the way I processed how bad things really were.

When Rook was in the prison she said "What am I going to find here?" And Varric said "I think you already know, kid." I DIDN'T until he said that. The second he said that my entire chest tightened and I just said "No" out loud as I watched Rook find his body.

Now for my real complaint!!!

Rook never gets the chance to grieve Varric. They go from talking to him every day to finding out he's dead and it was all a lie. I have personally never been more fucking pissed at Solas than I am now. But Rook comes back and they have that kind of "closing off" scene with Varric's empty bed (which was so hard to go through btw). And then they fuck their pookie LIKE I CANNOT BE THE ONLY ONE UPSET ABT THAT

FYM I gotta find out my dad is dead and then Rook is up for boning like there's no fucking way unless it's to cope. And at least pertaining to the Lucanis romance, Rook is processing everything that happened and they can say "So much has happened, I just don't know how to feel."

And rather than getting to process that in some kind of way, the devs said nah this scene serves one singular purpose, and Lucanis says "I do" and then dicks them down.

Personally, I felt very dismissed despite being overjoyed about finally having the romance scene, I couldn't even enjoy it with everything that happened prior.

Rook deserved the chance to completely break down after everything they went through. Tbh i don't know how they kept it together. Varric said "don't get all misty eyed" and i thought to myself that's way too delicate a term for what's happening here, I was fully ugly crying.

Fuck your "I had a good run" I still need you bitch.

All this to say I'm very upset, and I'm running my second playthrough and every time I look at, hear, or talk to Varric I tear up again. Wtf Bioware.

Rook should've gotten the chance to actually talk about what Solas did to them, especially in the sense that he made them believe Varric was still there. Or at least get to properly grieve the person who was their closest friend for a long time.

I have very strong feelings about this obviously

[drdemonprince]

am i being stupid by refusing to invest any of my money? i just don’t find it ethical (lots of people have 0 idea what theyre actually invested in with typical low risk investments and it would actually drive me nuts to have to investigate every single thing thats on there) and i also have zero faith in the stability of the economy or the world i just literally don’t trust like that. and fear that with climate change i’m not going to have a traditional future or retirement anyway. is this incredibly stupid i’m being so genuine because i dont know

I think your ethical concerns are totally reasonable. Any investment in the stock market is pretty inherently fraught, even if you choose index funds that exclude the especially bad stocks of like firearms/military contractors/etc. Even something like a bond can be easily said to be bad, because it's a loan to the government, and most money market or high yield savings are not untainted either, because most banks themselves invest in fucked up shit like oil pipelines. The one avenue I think that would be mostly okay is a high yield savings account for a credit union, or a bank that you've researched and know doesn't invest in that kind of shady shit. I have also argued previously that it's not wrong to invest in an apartment or house -- as long as you're not landlording, vulnerable people having more secure housing and the ability to share that housing with others in their community is good and understandable. So on balance, I get where you are coming from, though I think having a financial safety net makes people less likely to have to take on unethical jobs and makes them less vulnerable to financial abuse and exploitation, which has merit ethically.

I tend to see the doomerism question a bit differently. If the US empire falls or the economy collapses, you'll either have much bigger problems than your 401k bottoming out (problems like the complete obliteration of the supply chain), OR we will be living in a financial paradigm so dramatically different and more just that you wont MIND that you dont have that money anymore. Whereas if the US economy continues to exist, you're gonna be fucked if you dont have a retirement to fall back on, so why make yourself needlessly more vulnerable by not saving? The ethical rub with this, though, is that it creates the moral hazard of rooting for the US empire and economy to never fall, and that rendering you more conservative... which is a possibility, but like, as i said, i think it's possible to have some money saved for a rainy day under capitalism while still praying for capitalism's downfall. if anything, being more financially independent makes it EASIER for me to risk unemployment & etc by doing more radical political actions and speaking my mind and saying no to things. but ymmv

[utilitycaster]

this may seem needlessly finicky but I do actually believe it's important: calling Verin a himbo is just one of many examples where like, one of the cast says something off the cuff and it's not exactly the right word or it is highly contextual, and that is fine because no one is perfect especially in improv, but then it gets repeated ad infinitum within the fandom when it never really fit in the first place. We have Verin's stats and he's decently more intelligent than average with a 13 (smarter than most of Bells Hells for one; as smart as Pike); it's just he's the guy with a bachelor's degree with good grades followed by military service in a family where everyone has two PhDs - Matt said "himbo of the family" the way in a family where most people are exceptionally tall you'd call the 5'11" child the short one. In Call of the Netherdeep he appears as thoughtful and competent and promoted to a difficult position at a very young age, and in the campaign his appearance is simultaneously as a leader of troops in a dangerous mission, and someone who cares enough about poetry from a completely foreign and distant culture to have tried to learn more about it. I'm sorry, but if you're using the word "himbo" I don't think you're processing a thing about the character yourself; you're just the latest repetition in a game of telephone that's been going on since mid-2021.

And that's not deeply bad on the surface, and I'm using Verin not because he is the character most wronged by this sort of thing but because he's recent and it's really clear where the word came from and that it's not a good assessment, but something I happen to have a decent knack for is pattern recognition in language. I usually find it really easy to pick up on when someone's plagiarized because of the language and pattern shifts. I tend to remember urls and out of place words well. So I do tend to notice when everyone suddenly starts using a single turn of phrase and I tend to flag it. Sometimes that's not bad; sometimes it means everyone came to a similar conclusion and that's the best way to express that conclusion. But like, when Taliesin called the Yios episode a gas-leak episode and the entire fandom started parroting it? The line "bone-dry takes"? The fact that a lot of ship defenses I see were phrased precisely as "I have eyes"? without actually talking about the ship itself? the fact that I've seen a spike in the use of the term "ontologically evil" including in myself and not all uses are actually correct? And extending this beyond strictly language but consider any headcanon with minimal textual support that catches like wildfire (sidebar: remember how we make, or made fun of the SPREAD THIS LIKE WILDFIRE tendency on Tumblr a decade ago? same concept of repetition of a specific turn of phrase without internalizing) all sort of ping this.

And it's fine, truly, to come to fandom and turn off your brain. I know this will sound sarcastic from me, and that's because I don't personally agree, but I do strongly agree that you can do what you want in fandom and you don't have to listen to my opinions so in the end, yeah, it's fine because I am not the arbiter of "fine". But I think critical thought is a vital exercise and I think precision with language is part of it and so if you find yourself using the same exact words and thoughts as everyone else, that should, ideally, trigger a process of "but are these the right words? what do I see when I see this character and how would I describe them? do I agree with this assessment?" Fandom is an interesting and easier microcosm than reality in which to start doing that.

[osakanone]

I read and agree with 95% of your post.

Prefacing: You're great. You are wonderful, I am now following your very good posts and I am a ball of weird neurotic energy that has to get this off my chest.

Why?

TheHorrors™ as of late have made me need to explain this like five times in four days.

Writing it like this means we can discuss it, i can link a post and people who need to see it can see it and I can get on with my life instead of having a redundant talk.

I might add citations pictures, etc etc later but I've already spent 45 minutes writing and re-writing this and I need to get this out of my system.

Once again, you're great and the fustration inside the response is not directed at you but at the issue itself.

You? Wonderful. Glorious poster. Evil baby. Delightful. Much love. Excellent Blorbo choices.

Issue? Shitty. Fills me with outrage. Paradoxical. MurderDeathKill.

Okay? Okay: rant begin:

The problem is "atomized individualism"...

1) Has a really well known and distorted meaning in libertarian circles you're probably unaware of which says "we're very rational and we never get emotional, and if I've got mine fuck you" coming from John Locke who quietly leaves out the "equality" part. 2) Actually self-defeating and paradoxical (I'll explain this)

Atomism claims everybody is

self-interested, self-sufficient and that altruism (being nice for the sake of being nice) is purely performative -- and that in functinal applied practice, asking for help or having systems to fall back on is inherently not-ok because you're not being the platonic ideal of the atomism (this is actually how familial orders emerge, instead of socialized safety-nets).

The fine text is also supposed to state that every member is equal which kind of contradicts the idea that the individual is pushed first; if you have more resources than others, your ability to execute on your individuality is inherently unequal.

It boils down to "the individual" vs "every individual" which gets very very messy.

It should mean freedom from bad things (over-exposure, abuse, starvation, etc, etc) not freedom to do bad things -- but this is where things start to get dicey.

Individualism claims the individual is the primary source of all value, and that the individual is always rational -- with the applied caviat that if anybody is acting irrationally, they lose their individuality.

You're gonna see a lot of applied caviats. Things which sound good on paper, but play out in really really messy ways in real people as side-effects of value-systems which then become the main goals of said systems when they benefit the people upholding those systems.

Combining atomization and individualism, you get...

"I am entirely rational, I am the only source of value, I am self-sufficient, and I am concerned with myself, and anybody who disagrees with me is irrational, because I am rationality defined"

So to go over the freedom part again:

This plays out as...

"uhhh yeah its a philosophy that means its good for me to not pay my taxes, because taxes are evil because they hurt me personally and specifically as an individual by subtracting my explicit capacity to execute on my self-interest (eg, get thing)"

This the mentality of your Peter Thiels, your Elon Musks, and your Donald Trumps. People who only see the "the divine right of kings" as wrong because they themselves are not the kings.

Wait, this is a lot, how did we get to this???

Their definitions ignore that most social definitions and benefits come from implicit attitudes and behaviors we do unconsciously (since humans spend most of their time running in a kind of autopilot called automaticity).

We learn this implicit automaticity from being raised, cared for, socialized, taught, and forgiven. They are hard to measure with a utility function mathematically, because they're hazy and vague and are often the root of interpretations of words (as we've experienced here, with this very thread).

Explicit attitudes are those which happen at the conscious or aware level: Its when you know you have to do something, or you haven't engrained something so you do it performatively out loud. This is significantly easier to measure with a utility function and is a huge part of how the legal system functions, and why the legal system assumes all actors (people) are rational.

Spoilers: All "rational" decision-making neurologically speaking originates from urges and feelings, and is then packaged and organized into "rationality".

Nobody human is rational; there are only rationalizers. Anybody who claims to be rational and calls anybody else emotional is both lying and projecting. If nobody felt anything, nobody would do anything: That's what depression is, even high functioning depression.

Going further, communication and implicit attitude learning and how explicit attitudes become implicit attitudes is the human skill.

Its why its inherently nonsensical to try and atomize us from eachother. We are all disturbingly susceptible to propaganda.

It isn't our tool-use (corvids molluscs, diatoms and arachnids have us beat there up until the last 80 to 15,000 years when we did metal properly afaik) -- its not our intelligence or short-term-memory (primates have us beat there, as genius level counters, strategizers and selectors): Its communication and sharing out strategies.

This is what we mean when we call humans "social organisms".

Seperating individuals truly leads to brain damage, which we see in those who undergo extended solitary isolation -- and likewise those who are placed into extended sensory deprivation such as white-room torture.

So, returning to our point:

What actually happens to our self-interested agents?

They refuse to concede that they can be irrational (which they scientifically and verifiably are: we are all irrational most of the time running on habit and memory, not pure decision making).

Result?

Self-interested agents who will not concede always compete -- whether towards singular or group-goals, and as resources collapse the group goals become singular goals.

Why?

Conceding that you are capable of irrationality and understanding what this means and the consequences and trusting that you can feel safe doing this requires emotional insight.

To develop emotional insight, you need to be a skilled communicator or have had excellent social training either through direct social contact or secondary social contact (social and cognitive stimulus creating cognitive simulations, aka media you consume).

The venn diagram of properties producing ultra-competitors is...

Dysthymia (being unable to create enjoyment or satisfaction without external validation, such as scoring, numbers or from another perosn)

An insecure/avoidant attachment style (eg, you depend on the numbers system because forming trust is compromised for whatever reason)

This produces an arms-race of ultra-competitors all trying to maximize whatever society sees as the most valuable (eg, money) -- who quickly figure out that the optimal strategy is to limit the number of competitors they have.

They do this by tricking the other members into playing "other games" or to collect "other things" as a distraction to sate them while improving how well they achieve their own goals.

These are your time vampires like the internet, your endless merchandising of ownership/consumer status, your religions to sate existential status needs, your abusive families playing for membership approval status needs, etc.

Rant End.

Okay, so now what?

So I agree with 95% of what you're saying, and I'm a pedantic bitch basically.

I love betraying nation and bloodline. I love rejecting the social order. I love being able to pursue my own goals even when the world around me wants me to adopt theirs instead. I love blasphemy and queerness and getting to choose who my family is.

I love this.

Everything you want is good, but atomized individualism is not the descriptor for those things because pure atomized individual reinvents the problems it seeks to solve for the individual by externalizing them to maximize its own returns.

Its why libertarians always create government again, but with extra steps where they are the leaders, which is apparently fine for some reason.

"I love atomized individualism" is not a statement you can make in a void, especially given current events.

What you mean is

"I love equitable atomacized indivividualism"

And by adding just one word that clarifies your statement and nullifies so many MANY problems, I 100% agree with you.

Okay got that out of my system.

Phew.

May your self-loving-vampire and may all of your self-loving be glorious and your Kohaku pleantiful.

Take care! :3

I love atomized individualism. I love betraying nation and bloodline. I love rejecting the social order. I love being able to pursue my own goals even when the world around me wants me to adopt theirs instead. I love blasphemy and queerness and getting to choose who my family is.

[th3-c0ll3ct3r]

Mildly warm take, Tommy does NOT owe his entire career to Dream

Because, YES the dream smp help propel his career as a content creator, but it does not constitute to everything you've done to make himself and his brand better

Did dream write all the jokes? The vlogs? The books? The MCC wins? The friendship formed before and after? The smp's to follow later? Origins? The comedy? Twitch con?

Because if you say That Dream did all of that for Tommy then I'm going to assume Dream Is Crawling into his skin and piloting his body

Saying dream owns Tommy's as well as other people's careers, is like saying that if I were to bake a cake it wouldn't be my cake it would be the person who made the ingredients. I still baked the cake, put the ingredients together, bought them, got the recipe and just because I didn't grow the wheat or milk the cow it doesn't make it not my cake.

The smp did objectively help his career there is no fault in that and even Tommy acknowledges it, but you can't attribute every single thing that he does now to Dream.

And you can also argue that dream was a bad person, because he was. Regardless of allegations and other people's experiences, dream intentionally seeked out a 14 year old streamer, made him sign a legal contract, took every single bit of credit, got into fights with him on a regular basis, a made him feel so bad you will slamming his head against the desk.

That's not normal. None of that's normal.

And then in an alternative perspective dream didn't do us much for the smp as he claims. The only things he did was bring the content creators together, start the server, and play as his own character.

I do not get me wrong there is credit in that and he did do those things that allow the server to operate, but those with the only things he did.

Wilbur (as much as we hate him) wrote the scripts, and alot of Tommy lore. Will stopped writing the Script after he died canonically, and then later came back because in his own words " lI had to write myself back into the narrative [...] I didn't like where it was going. Not to see dream is a bad writer, but we had different ideas". That's him putting it nicely, the worst bit for the smp realistically was when dream was writing the lore.

And I'm not saying that it was bad but what I am saying is that the majority of people found it bad, so bad in fact that they had to bring Will back.

Dream did not write his own story.

And to the other content creators, on the server they will their own lore. And they acted it out themselves, dream was no part of that yet they still had to sign contracts because it was still on the physical server.

Ranboo and Technoblade in particular had some of the best story writing and telling, and they did it all themselves.

But there's only one thing in common, that makes sense but I think we all missed, dream was in every single person story or had planned to be. And I get it it's his server but on the other hand they could have had amazing stories without his input. Ranboo could have replaced Dream with a mysterious unknown character in his lore, and the outcome and affect would have been the same story-wise. Dream didn't need to be Puffy's son, but he was. Technoblade and Philza could have skip to the side plot of saving dream and instead it needed to return a favour to someone else.

The storytelling within the server is a amazing but if you subtract dream and put someone in his place it's still would have been the same story. It's like he was made to be sandwich in everyone's story. And yes he was a great character in most stories, but in others he was unnecessary.

Put with the overall fact that he had to be in every single story obviously ties back to the server being his, but it's also a reflection of his own ego. He probably still to this day believe that every single person has a career because of him and do not because of who they are now. He definitely helped but it's not all him.

And I would say George, Sapnap and Dream, have the same issue with ego. You see the way dream behaves with over people, he dominated people's careers for many years and had it done by fear.

Sapnap, he would swear and curse every single person, to the point where Scott said he was the most difficult person to put on a team because no one wanted to play with him (I have a different post about MCC). There were many offensive and situations in which the pair of them actually ruin the game for a lot of people. If you were not a person who watched MCC back in the day then I can tell you from now they had to change so many rules, Scott had to start making applications because of the amount of times that they would bail or not communicate with him or simply people didn't want to play with him and wanted to avoid him, and due to their obsessive behaviour in needing to the practice the maps so much that when the game was chosen some people didn't even try because they knew who would win.

They're talented don't get me wrong but there is an extent in which that their Talent crosses with ego and makes the whole game unplayable. This is without mentioning the amount of people who were scared to play with this team or against this team. No one had a fun.

And even in the smp, some people purposely avoided Sapnap, because he didn't know how to manage himself.

And George you could argue also has a large ego because of the people he surrounds himself by and he's a success. He is an objectively/ conventionally attractive male, and there have been many instances including in recent times and in certain develop it situations that he used it to his advantage. He doesn't behave his age and he treats people cruelly.

And most importantly, the fans. Yes YOU. You heavily contributed to the success of the server and to the success of the creators. But the level of obsession people would have regarding these content creators is something that will always baffle me.

And alot of people asked them to speak out, especially Dream. And he didn't. Dream actually encouraged his audience by selling sketchy merchandise and a USB stick with his baby pictures on it. He enables his radical audience because they are what keeps him going. Realistically without the radical side of his audience he would not be as successful and financially well off as he is now.

Additionally those people attack literally anyone that set something bad about him, and at first he tried to downplay it, then he assured people he would manage it and tell them to start, but then along the way he must have realized that these people a Ride or Die for him and that if he drives away these people he drives away a lot of money, free advertisement and a defense system against his brand- and I say this because these people would defend him in any circumstance

So then he doesn't stop them, and now you've got a 19-20s yr old with an unfortunate amount of mental health issues, some people who continue to jab him with needles anytime he's upset.

And it's sad. Is far beyond something that his parents can protect him from, yet he hasn't found the resources to protect himself. He's not happy with himself. He used to be scared to stand with someone successful even though he's successful.

And I'm genuinely proud of how much Tommy has grown. He is and continues to be a dedicated, passionate and nice person regardless of circumstances, he continues to be real with his audience and tries not to waste thier time. And none of that was taught to him by Dream. He taught himself how to be himself. If I see one person saying that he's a clout chaser I'm gonna have to tell you that you're wrong because he's done so much for himself to the point where you can't even count it yet you can count the things dream did for him on a Post-it note.

Tommy did well

[janesurlife]

Normally I'd see tweets like this and move on but Today I have my day off so I'm gonna deep dive into this "carlando has ruined f1" narrative and the particular part of fandom that's behind it. Spoilers alert it's charles fan aka lestappies

This bitch has the audacity to say this about carlando while posting this shit..ok sure ma'am, carlando is the one ruining the sport and not a fictional ship which has made it to top-65 of ao3 tags...sure it's carlando yeah

I mean I could be generous and say "enjoy your ship but don't be annoying" but I am not in a generous mood so I'm gonna spit facts. Carlando although is a ship that people like, it's actually a real friendship between two people who have been teammates with each other, know each other's family very well, went to family weddings together and have celebrated each other's wins without any malice (unlike sour puss). Meanwhile lestappen exists only and only in certain people's imagination and on ao3.

So tell me, dear viewers which one of these two is ACTUALLY the k-popification of f1 and ruining the sport? I think we all know the answer and it's not carlando.

saying "carlando was a mistake" as if that's something fans have "created" and not an actual friendship between two grown ass men (lestappies can dream).

The reality of the hate behind carlando is the fact that Charles fans LOVE to blame carlos and Lando for everything and anything that goes wrong in the sport. They hate those two drivers and go to stupid lengths to justify that hate. Bitch grow some balls and own it!

They have this delusion that "everyone loves charles cause he earned it" and I'm gonna tell you a very harsh but true fact and it's that most of you like Charles cause he's a decent looking white man who drives for a prestigious f1 team. If he wasn't in ferrari his fanbase would be half of what it is now or maybe even less. Although it's not a crime to like someone for their appearance but trying to say that it's not what it actually is, that's the problem. So please go ahead and write lestappen fics on ao3 and leave Carlos and Lando out of your delusion.

I would also like to address something here that's been bugging me for a while. These people in their attempts to make carlando the big bad evil of f1 take the conversation away from the real evil of f1 that's fia and liberty media. Fia being inconsistent in their penalties and trying to control very personal aspects of drivers like what they wear and what they speak, is doing more damage to f1 than two men being nice to each other. The rich countries throwing money at fia to get a grand prix without caring about the fact how dangerous it could get for drivers like Qatar was. And fia continuously allowing more and more GPs to be held in US even after the absolute cluster fuck that miami and las vegas was last year. The increasing number of street circuits even after knowing how unsafe they are IS THE REAL EVIL not carlando you fucking dufus.

[sissylittlefeather]

Loyal & True

A/N: I wrote something a little unorthodox, but it's been stuck in my brain like a splinter for over a year now, so I had to do it. This is a modern AU where Elvis is in a fraternity. This one is purely my fantasy, but I hope at least a few of you will get a kick out of it. It's pretty entertaining, if nothing else.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, typical smut, kissing, fingering, oral sex (both receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, but also they drink a lot of alcohol and smoke at one point.

Word count: ~4.4k

“Hey, honey, are you new here?” Elvis takes a sip from the beer he's holding in a red Solo cup. He cringes a bit at the taste. It doesn't matter how long he's in the fraternity, he'll never get used to the taste of cheap beer and he'll definitely never like it. You, on the other hand, he likes immediately.

“Oh, um, yeah. I'm thinking of going through rush, so my roommate thought I should experience a frat party as a means to convince me.” He smiles and it almost takes your breath away. How on earth is he so attractive?

“And are you convinced yet?” He takes another sip, but you suppress a giggle. It's obvious he doesn't like what he's drinking.

“Not really. The beer is cheap and the music could be better.” He laughs, appreciating your honesty. He's so used to girls who fall all over themselves to try to sleep with him that your bold truth is refreshing. Setting his cup on the counter, he nods.

“The beer is cheap, I'll give you that. We'll address that at the next chapter meeting, I assure you.” He's kidding, but you don't know enough about Greek life to know that.

“Y'all really talk about beer at meetings?” He laughs.

“Not at all. It was a joke. You really are new here, aren't ya?”

“I really am. I'm not sure this whole scene is for me.” He steps back and looks you up and down.

“You look like you fit in. But you also don't look like a freshman.”

“I'm not. I spent two years at a junior college and this is my second year here.”

“Why are you thinking of going through rush now?” You take a sip of the beer and then set yours next to his on the counter, making a face.

“That really is bad. I need friends. And I've heard it looks good on a resume.”

“Well, you're not wrong about that.”

“Just not sure I'm ready to buy my friends.” He clicks his tongue and looks at you disapprovingly.

“That's not what this is at all. You're paying for opportunities. The rest is up to you.”

“Mmm. That's an interesting way to think of it.” There's a small lull in the conversation, but he's not ready to move on from you.

“What kind of music would you prefer?” He asks and you laugh.

“I'm more of a classic rock girl. Think like Kansas, Boston, the Eagles, Elton John, things like that.” His eyes go wide and he tries not to smile like an idiot.

“You're a girl after my own heart. I agree. But this music is better for a party.”

“Why do you say that?” He smirks.

“Come on.” You raise your eyebrows and take the hand that he offers you, following him out to the dance floor.

“I really don't-”

“Just try it.” He puts his hand on your lower back and pulls you in close to him. Thankfully, the music is loud, so he doesn't hear you gasp a little when he puts his hands on your hips and starts to move you with him to the beat. You've never danced like this in public before, much less with a guy. “You're too stiff. Relax, baby.”

“I'm trying…” He pulls back and looks at you.

“Here, come with me.” You take his hand again as he leads you to the kitchen. It amazes you how many people say hi to him as you walk together. He introduces you to everyone, but there's no way you'll be able to remember all the names. The first time he realizes he doesn't know your name, but once you say it, he doesn't forget it. Eventually, you get back to the kitchen and he goes to a cabinet, pulling a bottle of liquor down from the top of it. “We need shots.”

You smile and nod. That sounds like exactly what you need. He comes up with two shot glasses and pours one for each of you.

“What is this?” He grins.

“Peanut butter whiskey.” Your mouth pops open. You didn't know there was such a thing.

“It's good, I promise. Cheers.” He taps his shot glass against yours and then throws back the brown liquor. You nod and do the same. You're no stranger to shots and this one is actually really good. “I was right, huh?”

“Yeah, it's really good.”

“You want another?”

“Hell yeah, I do.” He grins again and pours two more shots. This time, you do them together and put your glasses down at the same time. “That stuff is dangerous.”

“Why? You feelin’ like you might make a bad decision?” He smirks down at you mischievously. The whiskey is starting to go to your head, so you giggle.

“Mayyybe. Come on, let's dance.” He's surprised, but he doesn't argue as you take his hand and practically drag him back to the dance floor. Truthfully, you just want an excuse to press up against him again.

When you get back to the dance floor, it doesn't take long for you both to settle into a rhythm of grinding against each other to the beat. You start out facing each other, but before too long he turns you and you go to work rubbing your ass against his crotch. You're not sure what's come over you, but it's like you've been living for this moment and you've had just enough alcohol to lower your inhibitions. He holds your hips and guides your motions against him. As the tension builds, his lips find your neck and he starts to press soft kisses just below your ear. For a bit, you reach back and grab the back of his hair as he continues kissing your neck. Before too long, though, you turn to face him. He looks into your eyes for about half a second and then dives in, crashing his lips into yours in a wildly passionate kiss. He pulls your hips in tight against his and you feel his hardness where it strains against his pants. Your arms are around his neck and somehow he still sways a little to the music as his tongue explores your mouth. His hands start to roam as the kiss reaches a fever pitch and he pulls back breathlessly.

“Air. We need air.” You're a little disappointed, but he leads you off the dance floor again and out to a large patio. He pulls a small cigar out of his pocket and you pull out a cigarette. Wrapping himself around you from behind, he lights yours first and then his. You take a drag and lean back against his chest.

“You didn't want to dance anymore?” You ask, wondering why he'd stopped you when he did. He blows out a puff of smoke and whispers in your ear.

“A gentleman doesn't fuck a lady on the dance floor.” You giggle as he kisses your neck before taking another puff of his cigar.

“No? But he’ll fuck her on the patio?” Now it's his turn to laugh.

“No, baby. Not out here either.” You smoke for a bit in silence, enjoying the feeling of his arms around you.

“What's your major?” You ask, just wanting to hear the sound of his voice again.

“Audio engineering. Yours?”

“English literature.”

“Ah. Music and lyrics. We make sense together.” You're a little surprised that he'd mention anything about you being together, but the idea intrigues you.

“Hey, how does everyone know you?” You ask, finishing your cigarette and turning in his arms to face him. He takes another puff of his cigar, before putting it out and slipping what's left of it back into his pocket.

“I'm the president.” Your mouth drops open.

“You're shittin’ me.”

“I assure you; I'm not. I'm the president of the fraternity.” You laugh a little.

“Wow. I have university royalty wrapped around me right now.” He chuckles.

“That's right. You better enjoy it.” You smile as he leans down and kisses you gently. He's more tender than you expected. You really thought these frat guys all had one thing in mind, but he's so sweet and soft. Maybe it's all an act, but it feels real. You kiss him deeply and roll your hips against his. He moans softly and holds you tight for a second. “Honey, I'm happy to keep just kissin’ you on the patio. But if you want more, we need to go to my room.”

“Sir! I am a lady.” You protest, feigning innocence. He smiles and kisses your cheek, whispering in your ear.

“My apologies, dear. I guess I got confused when you kept rubbing yourself on me.” You giggle and snuggle into his chest in a gesture that's far too intimate for your circumstances, but seems appropriate nonetheless. He obviously doesn't mind as he sets his chin on your head and wraps his arms around you a little tighter. “I'm not usually like this.”

“Like what?” You pull back to look up into his face.

“Affectionate. I mean, I am, but not to this extent. I'm usually more… goal-oriented…” He tries to hide a smirk.

“That's a cute way to say you're usually focused on sex.” You raise your eyebrows.

“Well, I'm just usually not this content to cuddle on a patio, we'll say that.” Somehow, your eyebrows go even higher.

“So you don't want to have sex with me?” He closes his eyes and leans his head back.

“Man, I really set myself up here.” You giggle and he bites his bottom lip, looking back down at you. “Honey, I'd take you upstairs in a heartbeat if that's what you wanted. But if it's not, I'm not walking away. And that's the different part. I'm not walking away.”

He leans into you and presses his forehead against yours. You close your eyes and revel in the closeness, confused by how you can feel this connected after an hour at a noisy frat party.

You're in this position when one of the guys sticks his head out the door and hollers.

“Yo, Presley. We're up on beer pong. You ready?” Elvis grumbles a bit and then unwraps himself from around you, hollering back at the guy at the door.

“Shit. I forgot I signed up for that. Yeah, I'm comin’!” He turns back to you and smiles. “You wanna play? You can be my partner. Scotty can play with someone else.”

“I've never played before, but sure, I can try.” You look up at Elvis sweetly. The guy that you're assuming is Scotty laughs, gesturing to both of you.

“Awesome. I'll play against you two.” You take Elvis's hand and make your way back into the party behind Scotty. The guys get the cups set up and fill them with beer and you wrinkle your nose.

“I'm not drinkin’ that.” Elvis grabs you around the waist and kisses your cheek.

“I'll drink it, baby.”

“She has to drink something! House rules. Everybody drinks.” Elvis rolls his eyes at Scotty and then looks back at you.

“I made that rule. I guess I have to follow it. What do you want?”

“Bring me a glass of whiskey and I'll sip it.” Elvis looks at you like he could kiss you and Scotty laughs again.

“Damn, sweetheart, you keep this up and he's likely to marry you.” You giggle to cover up the way your stomach flip-flops and Elvis pushes Scotty's shoulder. He doesn't contradict him, though, as he walks into the kitchen, leaving you in the room with the guys. You make small talk until he comes back with your drink. He hands it to you and then goes into game mode.

“Okay, honey, now just focus on the cups and try to get a nice arch on it. If you feel like you can keep the ball out of the cup by blowing on it, try it. You can swat it if they bounce it and if you make a bounce that's three cups. We get two re-racks.”

“Yeah, I'm never gonna remember all that. I'm not even sure that was English.” He laughs and kisses your forehead.

“Let's just play. I'll help you.” The game begins and you're surprised both at how good Elvis is and how competitive he is. He tries so hard to be patient with you as you learn, but it's clear that he's in hell when you're losing by two cups. They're down to one cup and you have three left and Elvis is about to pull his hair out.

“I'm sorry…” You whisper. He turns and wraps you in his arms.

“No, baby, it's okay. I'm okay.” You pull his mouth down to yours and kiss him softly. He smiles against your lips and relaxes significantly. The guys all look at each other with their eyebrows raised. They've never seen their president like this with a girl.

“Y'all gonna shoot, or just make out?” Scotty asks sarcastically. Without taking his eyes off of you, Elvis bounces the ping pong ball on the table and it goes directly into the front cup. The room goes crazy as the guys clap and cuss and cheer.

“Okay, now baby if you make this, we win.” He looks you in the eye and you nod. You turn and he puts his hands on your hips, pressing himself up behind you. “Just relax. You got this.”

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath, open your eyes and shoot. It feels like the ball moves in slow motion as the whole room watches it. And then, to everyone’s shock, it lands square in the same front cup that Elvis's did.

You'd think you had won the Olympics with the way the guys lose their minds. Elvis grabs you and spins you around, peppering your face with kisses. When he finally puts you down, you have to high five pretty much everyone in the room, including Scotty, who gives you a nod of respect. After what feels like way too long, the guys calm down and start to set up for the next game.

In all the commotion, Elvis grabs your hand and drags you back to the living room where everyone is dancing and settles you onto a couch in a corner of the room. It's too loud to talk and between the whiskey and beer, you don't really want to anyway. He's been dying to get his hands on you again and you'd be lying if you said you weren't craving him like a drug. You sit next to him and turn, throwing your legs over his thigh. He tips your face up to his with his finger and looks into your eyes before leaning in to press his lips against yours softly. After a few more soft kisses, he runs his tongue along your bottom lip and you part yours, deepening the kiss. His tongue dips into your mouth, tasting you, and before you know it, you're straddling his lap, grinding against him as he has one hand in your hair and the other creeping up your thigh, his fingertips under the edge of your skirt where it has ridden up. You moan softly as his thumb grazes your inner thigh, just inches from where you really want him to touch you. He pulls back for a second and just looks at you before burying his face in your neck, kissing and sucking and nipping the sensitive skin there. In this moment, you're the most beautiful woman he's ever seen and he's overwhelmed with the desire to keep you. It's an urge he's never felt before, but it's strong now as he works a spot on your collarbone with his mouth. You spread your legs wider and press your dripping wet center against his hard cock, moaning with the pressure and friction. Both of his hands run back to your ass and pull you in tighter against him. You whimper as you rub your clothed pussy on him, desperate for more. You've never wanted anyone as much as you want him right now. He moves his mouth back up to your ear and moans.

“Fuck, baby. We gotta go upstairs.” You nod frantically as he kisses you again, his thumb running over the wet spot on your panties. “Before I fuck you right here on this couch.”

“I wouldn't say no.” You whimper and nibble on his earlobe.

“You can't say shit like that, baby.” He squeezes your hips with his hands and then lifts you a bit. “Come on.”

You back off of him and stand up as he adjusts his dick under his belt and then leads you to the stairs. On the landing at the top of the staircase, he kisses you again, grabbing the back of your thighs to wrap your legs around his waist. He carries you to the door at the end of the hall and then kicks it open, slamming it behind himself. You moan loudly as he turns and presses you up against it, rolling his hips so that his cock is rubbing on your center again. The whole time, his tongue is in your mouth, sliding against yours as you kiss wildly. Your hands are in the back of his hair and he holds your ass in both of his palms.

“I need to taste you, baby. Can I?” You whimper and nod as he puts your feet back on the floor and sinks to his knees. He lifts your shirt and kisses your stomach while you roll your hips forward sensually. You've never been this turned on in your life and you're desperate for more of him. He pulls your skirt and panties down and removes your shoes, leaving your whole bottom half naked. “Mmm… let me see this pretty little pussy.”

He puts one of your thighs on his shoulder and looks at you dripping with arousal.

“So pretty.” Without another thought, he leans forward and licks you, pushing his tongue in you as deep as it'll go.

“Fuck. Elvis…” You gasp and moan as he goes to work licking your clit and fucking you with his tongue. Eventually, he brings his mouth up to focus on your sensitive bud and slides two fingers up into you, curling and then pumping them. You feel your orgasm gather in your hips as he sucks lightly on your clit and then licks over it in tantalizingly slow circles.

“I can feel you, baby, you're so close. Let go and cum for me.” You've never had a man bring you to a climax this quickly or this easily before and something inside you reaches out to him as your release hits you, flooding your body with electricity and ecstatic pleasure. He groans, tonguing you through your orgasm as you shudder and pulse on his fingers. The look on your face, the little sounds you make, the way you taste, it all makes him want to do this for you forever. “You're so pretty, baby, so sexy when you cum for me. Was that good?”

“God-fuck-Elvis, yes!” You struggle to make words happen and he pulls back, smiling, his lips and chin glistening. He stands up and strips off your shirt, yanking your bra off and tossing it across the room. For a second, he just lets his eyes run over your body before he reaches out and gently drags his thumb over your nipple.

“So beautiful.” He murmurs, drinking you in and holding you in his mind. There's something particularly sexy about being naked while he's fully clothed. It makes you feel like some kind of nymph or goddess as he stares and touches you softly.

“I want to see you.” You run your hands up under his shirt and he lets you push it over his head and off. He drops it on the floor and you press soft kisses to his chest. Your hands drift to his belt buckle and he sucks in a breath as you undo it and the button and zipper on his pants. It surprises you that he's not wearing underwear when you see the tufts of brown hair in the opening of his slacks. Now it's your turn to drop to your knees, pulling his cock free and pumping it with your hand a few times. He groans and leans his head back.

“Feels good, baby.” He whimpers as you lean forward and lick a circle around the exposed head of his dick. When you pull him fully into your mouth, he damn near doubles over on top of you. Your oral skills are impressive and he bites his bottom lip and moans, trying not to completely lose control. “Fuckkkkk.”

You bounce on his cock and then press your nose into the tufts of brown hair as you take him deep in your throat. It makes your eyes water, but the strangled sound he makes when you do it is worth it. You continue working him with your hand and mouth for a bit until you feel his stomach tense and know he's getting close. That's when you pull back and stand up, kissing his chest again. He pushes his pants off the rest of the way and kicks off his shoes until he's as naked as you are. For a bit, you just stand there taking each other in. You've both had sex before, plenty of it, but something about this feels special and important. Finally, he reaches out and takes your hand, walking with you to the bed. Suddenly, he feels very vulnerable, like this is his first time again. He settles you on the bed and then lies down next to you, running his hand over your stomach.

“I'm sorry. I just got suddenly nervous.” He chuckles a bit and kisses your lips.

“Me too. Why does this feel so…?”

“Important?” He finishes your sentence and you nod.

“Yeah, that's exactly it.” You look into his eyes as he presses his hand to the side of your face, rubbing his thumb on your cheek.

“I think maybe this matters, maybe we matter.”

“I think so.”

“I don't wanna fuck you, baby.” Your eyebrows pull together in concern. “I want to make love to you.”

You relax into him as he moves on top of you, pressing kisses to your forehead and cheeks. He grinds his hips against yours and you feel the tip of his cock on your clit. You moan softly as he rearranges his hips a bit to line up with your entrance. Spreading your legs a little, you grant him access and give him permission to push into you. He slowly moves his hips forward, entering you gently, almost lovingly. You arch your back as he groans with the sensation of your tight wetness wrapping around him.

“God, baby. We fit together like a lock and key.” He rests his head on your shoulder as he fills you fully, stopping to give you time to adjust. But it's not really necessary as you do seem to fit together perfectly. He pulls his hips back, sliding out of you, and then rolls them forward again, pushing deep inside you.

Sex has never felt like this before for either of you. The physical sensations are heightened by the emotional connection you've created in the time since he first approached you. It's happened fast, but there's something a little undeniable about the two of you.

“Elvis… this… I…” You can't seem to find words to express what you're feeling as he picks up a slow and steady rhythm of sliding in and out of you.

“I know, baby.” He captures your lips in a deep kiss and then rolls onto his back, pulling you with him. You sit up and arch your back, swirling your hips around so that you push his dick even deeper inside you. His hands go to your breasts and he squeezes gently before running them down your sides to your hips. You let him guide your movements for a bit and then lean forward, kissing his cheek as he starts to fuck into you from underneath. “Feels so goddamn good, honey. I never wanna stop.”

“I wish you wouldn't.” You kiss over to his mouth and dip your tongue between his lips. His pace becomes more erratic as his body tenses again, pulled tight as his climax builds in his balls.

“Fuck, baby, I'm gonna cum. Can I-”

“Yes. Don't pull out. I'm on the pill.” He nods and kisses you again as his hips snap upwards to meet yours over and over again.

“Shit.” He whispers through gritted teeth just before he slams into you one last time and his cock throbs and twitches, filling you with his release. You lay on his chest and he wraps his arms around you, kissing your forehead. “That was incredible, honey.”

“It really was. Elvis…” He looks down at you inquisitively.

“What is it, baby?”

“Nothing. It's nothing.” You look down and he pushes a strand of hair behind your ear, tipping your chin to look into his eyes.

“It's not nothing. I think I know what you're trying to say.”

“You do?”

“Yes, and it's insane.” You nod and settle into the crook of his arm as he kisses each of your fingertips. At first, you're a little hurt that he'd call you insane, but that quickly changes with what he says next. “It’s crazy, but I don't care. I love you.”

You look up at him with your eyes wide and wet and he caresses your cheek.

“I love you too, Elvis.” You snuggle in as close to him as you can, your fingers rubbing over his chest hair gently.

“Will you stay with me?” He whispers. You think to yourself that he'll never get rid of you now.

“Tonight?” You ask innocently and he nods, still kissing your fingertips.

“Yeah… or… like… until we die?” He says the last part quietly, like he's not sure he wants to hear your response. You giggle and kiss his shoulder.

“Until we die. I like that idea.” He relaxes a bit and kisses your neck.

“Good. Me too.”

******

The End

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley @searchingforgravity @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @polksaladava @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @theelvisprincess @makethemorning @peaceloveelvis @mrspresley69

[cazort]

I strongly agree with almost everything in this post, but I have one quibble, and this is the use of the term "moderate".

I find this frustrating because I'm trans and nonbinary, and I consider myself a moderate, and I very much dislike how some people use the term.

Being a "moderate" on trans issues does not mean caving to any of the right-wing attempts to roll back trans rights. What it can mean, however, is:

wanting sports leagues or their independent governing bodies to make their own decisions about who can and can't compete on what teams (contrast with the right-wing stance saying they want the government to bar trans people from competing even if sports leagues want to allow trans people to compete, but also contrast with far-left stances saying they want the government to force all independent sports bodies to accept trans people according to some set of criteria that the government sets) Why am I moderate on this issue? Because I don't want trans identities politicized. I don't want politicians to be debating our rights. If it's kept in the realm of the independent sports bodies, it's kept out of the political sphere and I see that as a win.

wanting all trans people to face zero pressure one way or the other when it comes to any sort of medical transition (contrast with the right-wing stance which wants to make medical transition illegal, or at least ban it for minors and make adults have to pay for it out of pocket, but also contrast with the transmedicalist stance which is unfortunately common in left-wing circles, which says that medical transition is the be-all and end-all of transition and trans people need medical transition to be happy, it's necessarily the right choice for all trans people, and you aren't really trans if you haven't medically transitioned) Why am I moderate on this issue? Because I see great pressure to medically transition both from transphobia (not having our genders recognized unless we transition) and from other trans people (glorifying the effects of transition, saying it will solve all our problems, etc.) and from left-wing pro-trans ideology which can get wrapped up in transmedicalism (equating "transition" with medical transition, equating medical transition with transness, etc.) and I hate this pressure. When people don't desire medical transition, it can lead to regret. When people do, it can mess with our motivation because it can be hard for us to sort out which desires or motivations are innate vs. which are imposed on us.

wanting people to be a bit more tolerant of the language people use, especially in the absence of any overt rudeness or explicit proof of bad faith. For example, not berating people or snapping at them for using the wrong pronouns (only politely correcting), not criticizing people or telling them they are "wrong" or "transphobic" for using older terminology (like "FtM", "MtF", "became a (wo)man", etc.) Why am I moderate on this issue? Because I've seen so many people get attacked, sometimes brutally, for using the "wrong" terminology, and this then makes the trans rights movement look unreasonable. Also the single worst stereotype I have to contend with as a nonbinary person is the expectation from others that I will be "demanding" and get angry at them if they use the wrong pronouns or gendered language to refer to me. And this is so frustrating because I'm actually laid back about these things, but I have to contend with these stereotypes in part because a lot of people do react this way.

wanting any pro-trans people to be more understanding of things like how it can be hard mentally and emotionally to adjust to people changing the gender, name, and/or pronouns they are referred to by. Why am I moderate on this issue? Because I prefer they/them pronouns and yet I still find it a bit hard or awkward sometimes, even though I prefer them over he/him and she/her pronouns. And more broadly, even though I'm nonbinary, I find the concept of nonbinary genders highly abstract and a bit confusing and hard to wrap my mind around. So I figure, if it's hard for me, it's probably going to be even harder for a cis person so the least I could do is to have a little bit of patience with them. Also, I don't want people to perceive my gender as an imposition on them so I don't particularly want others to be abrasive or aggressive about enforcing my pronouns or gender.

So yeah, I'm a moderate on trans issues. What this means is that I want to keep government out of gender, and more broadly, keep trans people from being politicized, I want there to be no pressure to medically transition one way or the other, and I am tolerant of people using older and/or nonstandard terminology to refer to trans people, and I'm relatively laid-back about people misgendering me or using non-preferred terminology to refer to me.

It does not mean I want to cave to any of the demands of far-right ideology.

The state of gay rights in the early aughts was not good; criminal penalties for homosexuality were rarely enforced but were on the books in many places, there was no right to marriage, and the morality of homosexuality was hotly contested in public. Big culture war issue. In that environment, where substantive protections were lacking, Democrats could be tepid on gay rights without actively giving anything up—if, like Obama in 2008, you didn’t support gay marriage, you could still be seen (correctly) as advocating for an overall better situation for gay people, or at least one that was no worse, in contrast to your right wing opponents.

Trans rights are not in the same position. Before the big trans rights backlash started, access to gender affirming care was pretty widespread, was everywhere legal, and was a matter for private concern only. Trans people could play in school sports subject to whatever their league’s rules were, and the idea of trying to make it illegal to cross dress in public was absurd. The conservative position since has become one of an explicit rollback of rights: revoke access to gender affirming care, create new criminal sanctions to punish trans people, make it illegal for them to participate in school sports, etc.

In that environment, tacking to the right on trans issues means deciding which elements of trans rights you are willing to concede to this project of actually rolling back trans rights. The only thing comparable from the gay rights fight is maybe state constitutional amendments to ban gay marriage, or DOMA—all of which were, IIRC, passed despite gay marriage not being legal in affected jurisdictions. Their enactment, while deplorable, had no material negative affect; gay people already couldn’t get married.

And that this project of rolling back trans rights is not a particular fetish of the religious right is more worrying. Plenty of liberals and liberal institutions are pretty transphobic. Britain has been working to export its flavor of (Moderate, Sensible, Secular) transphobia to other countries in Europe and the Anglosphere. Transphobes winning these fights isn’t a status quo situation—it’s a sharp increase in repression of trans people.

In light of that, I regard calls to “moderate” on trans issues with at best scorn. I think the party of civil rights condoning the rollback of citizens’ civil rights is really bad for its brand, won’t win it more votes, and may sufficiently alienate members of the base—who are invested in the party specifically because of its historic support for civil rights—that they simply don’t bother to show up in elections.

[jojotichakorn]

i started penning a post about how i always find it narratively unsatisfying when an arc ends with a conclusion the following arc breaks, regardless of how realistic the repetition of the same mistake might be, which is still true, but i actually want to talk about something else right now.

i feel like, at least at this stage, jack is in a position that is both generally unrealistic and untrue to the specific events of the series. 'jack and joker' has a clear focus on poverty and money and class issues, but it seems to treat jack in a very special way. he somehow manages to stand on the moral high ground above other characters. specifically, other poor characters. which is, first of all, a little ridiculous, since he was indeed a debt collector and, in fact, almost became the boss's son. and, second of all, is generally Not Great, because it does idolise the idea that if you "just try hard enough", you won't "allow" yourself to be backed into a corner and therefore won't have to do bad things.

now, don't get me wrong, i am not saying that our characters who have made mistakes are completely blameless. tattoo did shitty things (and hoy followed suit), safe did shitty things, hope frankly admitted to enjoying doing shitty things. however, if we zoom out a little, we will see that all these characters are in a situation that is inherently unfair to them. we have all of these poor people in immense amounts of debt and then we have this disgusting rich motherfucker whose entire wealth is literally based on making their lives as miserable and unfair as they are. and i think that, in this particular case, the series would have actually benefited from a dichotomy. don't get me wrong, i'm usually absolutely brimming with nuance and also asking "what lies outside of it?" but this shall be my exception. (though you could say that joke already brings some nuance to it - he is initially from a well-off family and he actively makes choices to the benefit of poor people, despite it resulting in him being ostracised from said family and its riches).

jack walks the line of being poor and managing not to do anything "too bad" like he is a fucking circus performer on a wire. and, don't get me wrong, he is genuinely a selfless character. he makes choices that a lot of other characters in the same circumstances wouldn't make. he remains in debt and continues working for the boss because he keeps trying to help people and pay off their debts first - that is admirable. however, he himself was already set up for more success than others. sure, being forced to become a debt collector isn't a walk in the park, but most other debtors didn't even have that choice. jack has to work for the boss in order to stay afloat - that is an undeniably hard task. the other people the boss collects debts from, however, have to come up with a lot of money out of thin air - that is not simply a hard task, that is an impossible one that is designed to trap them in the cycle of doing this impossible task forever. that being said, ultimately, jack is still poor. his own hamster wheel should be somewhere around the corner, that's always the case. this idea is where i wish they would have taken jack's arc.

from the moment when he refused to marry rose, there was no escape for him. finally, much like our other poor characters, he found himself stuck between a rock and a hard place. (and i think that it's very thematically appropriate for jack's particular "i can't do this anymore, i deserve to live a full life" sentiment to be connected to love, since he is, after all, a lead of a romance drama). he made the decision to say "no" and from that point on, he was completely and utterly fucked. because, realistically, that conversation that he had with the boss after refusing rose was insane. i don't know what he would have done to jack exactly, if that was a genuine conversation and there was no exchange of jack's freedom for the ring, but it would not have been anything good.

so i wish jack had to make the actual tough call there, instead of having joke save him all on his own (and later take the fall for it). and if it was, at least in some capacity, jack's decision to steal that ring, he would finally be placed in a situation where every other poor character already inevitably found themselves in. because the entire system is rigged against all of them and they are eventually always forced to do things that they should have never even had to consider in the first place. but they deserve better than living a life set up for them by evil rich people who literally live off of their suffering and they are allowed - no, at some point they simply have no choice but to - fight for a better life.

this, in my opinion, would have been a much more powerful message and - not to circle back to my personal preferences - would have also not left us with joke making the very same mistake that we decided we should never make again at the end of the previous arc.

[jams-sims]

I am home now, I can finally decompress and talk about tonight's episode. I'm going to start with Sam because, she's my girl and then next I'll do Jammer. And yes I'm going to talk about Sam x Evan, if you don't like that I can't help you.

This is the first time, in a hot minute, we've addressed Sam's identity issue. Her lack of real connections outside of her friend base. There's something about that that is worrisome. Everyone has their connections now K has the wolf, Jammer has the fire salamander, Evan has the Bear. We could assume that Sam's is going to be the bat or maybe the goat. What worries me, is that the implications of the next episode, from the misleading trailer at the end. Shows that its going to be about the sea creature and trying to ecaspe that. I have this feeling that something bad's going to happen involving Sam. I could be picking up on nothing but the Vibes Feel off. I feel like that phone scene was just a step.

I feel like we're going to have more scenes, of this lack of connection happening. We have 3 eps left, that just enough time for something to go horribly wrong. Especially with Sam being the heart of the group.

The reason why it weighing on me is because- Sam needed someone outside the group to check on her a few eps back. It was right after Evan killed B. I feel like her friendships are going to come into questions because- How much of her friendship does she believe they love her for her. Evan and her have been having a lot of hearts to hearts. An just like how evan broken down an express those complicated emotions when Jammer got his magical connections.

I can see Sam having a moment where this darkness in her heart. This lack of community comes and tries to swallow her and her connections.

Now onto SamEvan or EvanSam- listen idc if it meant to be friend coded or not. If Sam and Evan do kiss im breaking into the drop off studio dome and stealing tabby. The tension between them is insane!!

It feels like Evan is one minute, alway from decalring his fucking knight like devotion to Sam. EVERYTIME they have a heart to heart, Evan gives off the vibe that he wants to say 'I would kill so many people for you.'

I DONT KNOW WHAT IT IS!!! ITS LIKE CRACK!!! PUMPED DIRECTLY INTO MY VIENS!! I dont even know how a relationship between Sam and Evan would work!? Sam and Evan have the most shittist relationship tracklist. It feels like they could either be the 'we dated for like a week but it fwkt better as friends' type or the 'we've been so casual about our relationship, moved in together and live this very domesticated life even though we arent actually married.'

It also doesnt help Aabira and Erika are bother just as bad as me, their facial jounery gets me acting crazy!!

I just want Sam to get everything, she needs and wants.

[zepskies]

@lamentationsofalonelypotato

The angst was so real (in the best way)! 😭

She does, she's just afraid to admit it to herself and afraid to have those feelings for someone who doesn't love her back. And it really makes you want to hit her over the head with a frying pan LOL. And thank you! That's how I intended it to be, which is even more heartbreaking 😭

It does make sense, poor thing. 😭 She's so unwilling to believe he could love her the way she wants/needs, while he's hesitating to allow himself to do it. And I'm thinking he's fighting off some self-doubt/self-worth issues as well?

I love this journey of self-discovery for her, both with her brother and past, and with her expanding powers. It's pique Hero's Journey stuff! 💚

Plus, I really think that the creature is adorable, well, besides the murder tendencies. (I guess we could also say that about Ben LMAO)

LMAO factssss. Who could say no to that adorably confused grandpa face?

The reader is killing me tbh. I know I've said this before, but writing slow burn is literally almost as bad as reading it. Don't get me wrong I LOVE slow burn, but oh my stars sometimes it's so frustrating for them to both be in so much denial lol. I shouldn't complain because I did this to myself and now it really is "oh look the consequences of my own actions" lol.

LOLL the slow burn is a killer for both of us! "The consequences of our own actions" is so deeply relatable for the writing process. 🤣🤣

Thank you so much!💗 For me there really is something wonderful about reading/seeing creative chaos in a home, and also looking at creative spaces that people have. I think that there is warmth and comfort in a home that looks lived in. It's why I don't love minimalism, because it looks cold if that makes sense lol.

Aw you're welcome! I totally agree. I love seeing that as well -- it's like getting a window into a person's mind through their living space. I don't like minimalism for that reason either!

Again, I was so on the fence about Soothsayer, but what you said about her being in "an even better position to give her advice when it comes to that man" is exactly why I decided to include her.

Honestly it was a great twist! It makes her friendship with Ben more fleshed out and her own past, and how it serves to help the reader now. Especially now that it seems she's going to help get the reader and Ben together! 😂

I know 😭 She is going to realize it soon and I am so excited about that reveal. Oh plus I do think that she does know deep down that she does love him and care about him, but she's afraid to admit it because she doesn't want to fall for someone who she believes doesn't value relationships like she does.

God I can't wait!! lol And I totally get that. She really does seem to realize how deep her feelings run for him, but she's afraid, for the reasons you said. 🥲🥲

Mayyyybbbbeeeee...😉 Honestly, as much as I love reading fics where the reader isn't a supe, there's always a little part of me that can't help but see the reader growing old and Ben staying the same, and it always breaks my heart. There really is something so intimate and romantic about being able to truly spend your life with someone else, not just your life and then they go on for another few centuries.

Ooooh yesssss. 😏 And totally agree with you there! It's too bittersweet for me when you know one of them is going to die someday and the other keeps living on, carrying the weight of their memory. It's why I had to come up with that twist in BMD loll. Thank you for noting on that! It took some head scratching and BS science (and some inspo from my love of Smallville), but I think the reasoning was convincing enough on how the reader in BMD "caught up" with his longevity of life. 😂 I also love the idea of the plants giving her healing abilities and prolonging her life through that cell regeneration. 💚💚

It's my favorite line too! That and the bundt cake 😂. But you're right, he's afraid of everything that he's feeling and after Countess, he's not sure if he should fall for someone again.

Can't forget the bundt cake!!

Oh yeah, Countess sure fucked him up. 😬 That, along with the torture and years of being treated like a god in all other respects. 🫠

Oh Ben, he'll get there. He just needs some actual love in his life, and someone stubborn enough to not only put up with his shit, but like you said, "take a chance" on him. 😉

It's always my pleasure to read your stories, hun! Giving the feedback is the least I can do. 💕

Chapter 14: Don't Be A Bundt Cake

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

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

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

Word Count: 13.1K

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

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

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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

Reader POV

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

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

But you didn't notice any of it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you desperately needed the comfort of her embrace.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But what would I say?

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

He's really not the best at that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damn it Darren.

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

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

Darren.

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

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

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

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

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

"Honey?" Your grandmother says in a soothing voice

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

"Yeah?" Your voice shakes slightly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You saw it?" You repeat, confused.

What's going on?

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

"What?"

Is she saying what I think she's saying?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You pretended to be a fortune teller?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She left without telling him goodbye?

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

“But what about Nicaragua?"

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

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

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

You could feel your heart breaking for her.

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

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

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

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

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

“When?”

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

“Was he mad?”

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

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

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

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

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

“And when would that be?”

Your grandmother shrugs. “Maybe on my deathbed.”

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

 You snort. “And no one knew?”

“Your dad figured it out.”

“How? When?”

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

“I was never injected?”

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

“Darren thought I was.”

“I know.”

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

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

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

“Yes.”

“You heard everything Darren said?"

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t think you ever will.”

"Really?"

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

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

“Was it really that bad?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ve seen-“ Your eyes widen.

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

“That’s so weird.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I killed Darren, I killed Elijah-"

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

"But-"

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

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

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

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

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

You shake your head.

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

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

"Why not?"

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

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

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

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

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

"You don't?"

"Gran!"

"What? He's attractive."

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

"He has." She interrupts.

"What?"

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

"What does that have to do with anything?"

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

"Why does that matter?"

"Because he loved her."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Wait-"

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

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

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

"Okay."

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

Soldier Boy POV

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he wasn't sure.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Di?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"About what?"

"My granddaughter."

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

"Yes." Her voice softens for a moment.

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

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

The thought that home wasn't with him.

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

"No, not good."

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

"No."

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

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

Oh. Ben relaxed a little bit.

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

"Yes you do!" Diana presses.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She certainly hasn't changed.

“I am not avoiding-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what’s that?”

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

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

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

"But-"

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

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

Wait what?

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

He hesitates.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"She doesn't."

"Why don't you believe me?"

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

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

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

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

Ben chuckles. "I missed you too sweetheart."

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

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

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

“I-“

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

“I’m not-“

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

“I-“

“Stop making excuses!”

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

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

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

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

The line goes dead.

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

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

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

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

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

But why do I feel like-

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

"Di I-"

But it's not Diana.

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

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

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

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

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

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[pleasantspark]

HH/HB Server gets mad at me for making Pentious Tan

I wanted to share Non-Pale. Tan Pentious edit and got dogpiled almost immediately.

Color Coded so people can't complain FAKE FAKE FAKE. The server is not going to be named as it's a pretty big server filled with minors and if you know which server it is, DON'T say it.

People in there are children and I do NOT want anyone getting harassed, this is just another example of people assigning intent. The only party that's uncensored is me.

Color Codes !!

Blue - Discord Friend Yellow - Someone with common sense. Black - Don't like these people Magneta - Someone not involved. Purple - Actual On Duty Mod. Light Green - Unsure if they are on my side or what Red - Person who said something uncomfortable to me.

I sent the render after completing it and using a BG Removal AI Tool to make it a render for my new wallpaper as I am taking Pentious and using him as my own.

People began to point out the "issue"

ID: Sir Pentious PFP with a trans masc flag on the outer ring named "Saint Pentious's Wife" with a small emoji of Vox and a leaf on discord next to it posted Today at 5:57 AM with the caption of "Is this render okay?" attached is a Sir Pentious image but of human and he's completely tanned.

Black #1 replied "He's a lot paler than that" and blue replies to black #1 with "mhh"

Saint Pentious's Wife forwards a earlier message from Purple stating "It's their headcanon" Black #1 said "Well if it's your head cannon that it's a good render then there you go"

Black #2 responds with an image definition of Headcanon which is:

Headcanon is a word used in film/television/comics/etc. fandom that refers to something a fan imagines about the characters (such as a scenario or relationship) but that doesn't appear on screen/on the page.

End ID

After I posted the image more people started being "jokey" which is impossible to tell and most of these people see others using tone tags. They were trying to make me feel bad about what I did. Labeling as racism and the such. I highlighted a few points that stand out.

ID: Saint Repentious's Wife was responding to Black #2 asking about what they should color Adam. "Yes"

Black #2 proceeded to send "?" as a response.

Another person, Black #3 responded to the intial post with a caption reading "Bro blackwashed him" and attached is the original concept of Sir Pentious.

I respond with something logical: "Why are Y'all being weird about it, I just made him tan. He's tan."

Black #3 responded. "But he's pale" and responded in regards to Alastor. "I also noticed that Alastor is still black in his demon form."

I responded. "You think all Londions are pale?"

Black #3 responds to Black #2 "With Adam's colors."

I proceeded to send:

"Thats kinda oddly weird. Like, why do you care what I do, it's not like he's being erased fully. He's still white but tan. Accusing me of racism is wildly crazy and makes me uncomfortable. Please stop it."

END ID.

I sent an image of the color wheel to showcase how pale he is. People still doesn't care.

ID: I sent a image of a hex code website with the hex code being displayed as #EFDFD8 and a caption reading: "This is where he is on the Color Wheel"

Black #??? responded: "He was white though"

I responded: "Why is everyone questioning people on redesigns?"

Red chimes in: "idk whats wrong with being pale"

I responded: "He's from London, not all Londonians are PALE."

Black #??? responded to Red: "Racism." With a blue shocked emoji.

I responded once again: "Nearly all of Viv's Characters are Pale. Imagine saying someone's racist just for making a character slightly tan thats crazy"

END ID

A little info on Red, they have numerous times made me uncomfortable, even after I told them to stop, they did not make the effort to apologize or even backtrack, even with Black #4 not taking it seriously. One of the rules in the server is not to make anyone uncomfortable specifically in regards to questions but also had a rule to be nice to everyone.

Red responds to a Vox PFP (Offscreen) with the caption "OVER FIVE YEARS?"

I responded to the conversation: "I fw Pilot Husk's design. I was a fan since the Pilot ages (Al's design more specifically.)" Beforehand Red also tried to make me feel weird for selfshipping with Husk by saying "He's a cat bro." yeah, and? People simp for Loona the same.

Black #4 responded to my uncomfortableness to Red with a skull emoji.

I responded: ":/ What? Personal trigger of mine, is that wrong of me to wish for people to not say that?"

Red once again doesn't take it seriously and tries to paint it as a light ribbing by saying: "it was sarcasm lil bro do u think im a perv or sum."

I responded: "Please don't call me Lil Bro, also, I dont understand tones. You're talking to someone who has Autism."

Red says: "sorry ma am" which isn't sincere in my eyes.

I correct them "*sir."

Red responds: "what.."

END ID

I clarified to Red on my correction and they were confused because of my name, when my pfp states my pronouns which were Ze/Zir/It/Its which should atleast give them the idea that I wasn't a ma'am.

ID: I responded to Red saying "I'm saying I'm a male? Not ma'am."

Red responded: "but but you ur display name nvm"

I responded: "Malwife doesn't fit" with a sobbing emoji after this.

END ID

I responded to Red on them calling me Lil Bro, as I am a full 20 years old, I don't care if its slang but I don't know you and if you call me Lil Bro, Sis, Hun then fuck off. I told them MULTIPLE times now, and they refused to, once again this server mentions you to NOT make people uncomfortable. This is where they made a "Joke" to my hard drive which has files of my Artwork and DBZ stuff. I'm a CSA survivor. You SHOULDN'T make those kinds of jokes to ANYONE especially IF they just joined the server.

ID: I responded to an offscreen ask by Red: "Sadly gtg trying to recover my corrupted hard drive with my DBZ stuff"

Red went out of left field with this "joke" which they could have NOT said: "ok dont drop the soap"

I responded: "Dont say that please."

Red didn't apologize but said: "ok."

END ID

This is the last image, basically, this STILL became an issue. Mod didn't try and scroll up. And I don't even care. Here's the final fuckfest that made me consider actually killing myself from the stress.

ID: Black #??? replies to me in regards to my offense on the term racism being thrown around as: "I was kidding bru don't take it personally"

Mod responds to my londons not being pale comment with: "in the 1800s before immigration was a thing (THIS ISN'T BEING RACIST) they would have all been really white"

I responded: "Yeah, I really wanted to make him tan"

Green chimed in: "There's a difference between Brown and grey"

Yellow responded: "It's just a headcanon stop being weird"

Mod responded to my tan comment: "Yeah that's fine like ur headcanon do what u want i was just saying information about 1800s uk."

Yellow comments on the double standards: "People in the 1800s also didn't know how to build laver death machines but y'all draw the line at a bit of Melanin."

Magneta replies to my earlier question about how they separates vocals: "weights al has a feature where it splits the vocals and music"

I responded: "I dunno man, people keep on jumping on people who does this, and it makes me anxious I am just doing something fun. I'm sorry for making a character slightly darker But a lot of people here have oddly said some really weird things to me like the whole "hope you don't drop the soap" I shouldn't have to say why that makes me uncomfortable due to personal reasons."

Mod replies to Yellow in regards to their excellent point: "Tesia was close enough"

Then Mod responded to me: "Ur drawings fine ignore people saying that"

END ID

I am aware that these people might be minors, but like WHAT THE FUCK? No ONE is this level of pale, I mean it's POSSIBLE but like NOT to the level of Sir Pentious. Also, if someone tells you to stop you do it, you don't continue with a joke.

This is literally making me want to kill myself. I like to thank Blue and Yellow for trying atleast. Sir Pentious was more Tan, he wasn't black or anything he was just more tan. It makes more sense then pale sheet white as snow template base that the fandom designs have.

I just am going thru alot so if I don't respond I did it.

I'm sorry.

(If I am still here, that means I apssed out, I am too depressed, peroiod ridden and sleep deprived.)