#and stan likes romance novels

[deus-ex-mona]

when the slowburn makes the ship extra cute~~~

[mermaidsirennikita]

The Master by Kresley Cole is a Lothaire mafia AU and I'm.... not mad.

[carto0ncritter]

I'm sorry but I genuinely can't understand how people can look at Stolitz and Catradora and think these ships are healthy in any way, shape or form.

Stolas r*ped Blitzø. No, consent given in a life-or-death situation doesn't count

Stolas is racist towards imps, and this didn't change even when he "fell in love" with Blitzø

Stolas doesn't appreciate or respect Moxxie and Millie in the slightest (and was disappointed that his "Prince Charming" wasn't the one to rescue him)

He looks down on Blitzø and calls him things like "impish little plaything" and "his big dicked Blitzy" and doesn't stop treating him like shit even when Blitzø says loud and clear that he hates being talked down on like this (DUH)

The only thing Stolas knows about Blitzø is that he hates books and the only thing Blitzø knows about Stolas is that he's a boring bookworm. Keep in mind, the two figured this out about each other while they were kids, 25 YEARS AGO, after Blitzø was bought so that he could be Stolas' "friend" for ONE DAY

Stolas doesn't love Blitzø for Blitzø. Stolas loves the *idea* of Blitzø. The bird man wants to live a romance that is just like the romances in his cheesy novels. He wants to ride into the sunset with his one true love. He wants grand romantic gestures. He wants his "Prince Charming". Except, Blitzø isn't the type of guy for such sappy displays of affection, he never was. Especially combined with his trauma. And as soon as that other imp guy asked him to dance, Stolas not only accepted the offer, but Blitzø was no longer on his mind. And no, I don't think being drunk is proof that Stolas didn't mean what he had told Blitzø. Drunk people find it easier to say what's really on their mind after all

Blitzø fell in love with his abuser. This makes sense, actually. The guy always pushed everyone away and never got to experience true love, and now that he has the chance to be "wanted," even if the "relationship" is toxic, he finds it hard to let it go

As for Catradora, the things I wanna say about this ship have already been said throughout the years, but it all boils down to these things:

Catra mentally, emotionally and physically abused Adora

Catra had no problem ending the whole entire universe if it meant she'd finally be better than Adora

Catra was a war criminal and a fascist

Catra was responsible for what happened to Glimmer's mom and never apologized, let alone faced consequences

Their relationship was toxic even when they were kids

They were both raised by Shadow Weaver and were the only ones in the Horde who saw her as a mother figure, thus making the ship straight up incest, with even the official source material calling them sisters (adoptive siblings ARE REAL SIBLINGS!!!)

Catra got exactly what she wanted in the end (the girl she's always been obsessed with and dependent on) and, once again, faced 0 consequences for her actions

The show (and C//A stans) fetishizes abuse. As a SA survivor, I felt physically sick during the final episode, where the abuser ends up with her victim/sister and they kiss

In short, these ships are disgusting and the lgbt community deserves better representation

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 20: You Were There

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV, Soldier Boy POV, Rosemary (OC) POV.

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter twenty of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 7.9K

Warnings: I'm gonna label this one 18+ just to be sure. Angst, Cursing, Fluff, References to Past Sex, Sexual Innuendo, Family Problems, Self-deprecating thoughts, Awkward Situations, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, completely a little OOC. Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from the 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. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Reader POV

“Are you comfortable?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure? I’m not too heavy?” You ask cuddling into Ben.

He was leaning against the antique wooden headboard with you laying  against chest, his body curving around your back where the two of you were entwined together. Your knees were pulled up in front of you, with Ben’s legs stretched out long on either side of your hips while the photo album you brought was perched on your thighs. His arms were wrapped firmly around your waist, head looking over your shoulder where you rested back against his toned stomach and muscular chest. He was warm and perfect, the hardness of his muscles contrasting against the softness of your curves, causing you to relax deeper against him as you laid there together, and making you feel like you belonged there with him, like he was made just for you and you were made just for him. You couldn’t remember feeling this relaxed in a long time and couldn’t believe that you forgot how good it felt to be in his arms.

It was the first time that the two of you had tried anything like this, besides the morning you woke up with him after your birthday with your head on his chest, the morning when you told him you loved him and everything fell apart. But you weren't thinking about that right now, you weren't thinking about Countess, or the past, all you were thinking about was being  present in the moment with him. You thought that after everything that had happened in the past 24 hours you deserved that. You both deserved that.

The house was quiet, everyone had gone to bed except Rosie, who you knew was awake because you heard the gentle rustle of pages every few moments and you knew that she was reading one of those worn paper backs that she always carried around with her. Each weekend she would drag you and Lou to her favorite used bookstore, Inky's Inspirations, where she would browse through dusty shelves looking for treasures while Lou sat in the kids section flipping through the picture books giggling, and while you sipped an iced coffee and avoided the romance sections where there were countless Vought published Soldier Boy fictional romance novels. The ones that Stan Edgar and Legend thought would enhance Ben's image as America's Heartthrob and make him more “readily available” to the people of United States, and despite Ben’s initial protests,  you knew that Ben liked them because no matter the book, the descriptions of Ben’s naked body were gratuitous.

Honestly the descriptions were rarely exaggerations. You think to yourself feeling the way Ben’s muscular body curves around you leaving very little to the imagination.

Well. Not exactly little. Your cheeks heat with the thought, heartbeat spiking and hoping that he couldn’t hear it.

But you figured that Rosemary needed at least a few pages to escape tonight.

No, I’m not thinking about her or what she snarled at Ben and I’m determined to make him forget it too.

So now you were focused on Ben, how he was holding you close, molding his body around yours and making you feel safer than you ever had. And although the two of you had shared a bed almost every night since you were ten, when you would fall asleep and wake up in his arms the next morning, this felt new. New because every loving kiss he pressed to your shoulder made you feel light, new because each time Ben moved or flexed you couldn't help but feel your cheeks warm, and new because every few moments you remembered that Ben genuinely wanted to be there with you, that he loved you just as much as you loved him and had loved you all these years.

“Sweetheart you’re not too heavy. You’re perfect.”

“Not everyone has super strength-“ You bite the inside of your cheek, plucking your thumb against the front cover of the photo album in your lap.

Ben adjusts you in his arms to pull you further on top of him. “It’s not about having super strength honey. You’re perfect. Have been since we were kids and you’re just as beautiful now as you’ve always been.” Ben traces his lips down your throat, beard scratching against the sensitive skin. He had kept his promise about keeping it just for you and you were definitely reaping the benefits. He moves his mouth slowly back upwards so he can brush them against the curve of your ear breath hot against your skin. "And I love having you on top of me doll."

A shiver travels down your spine. “But-“

“No buts. Well unless we’re talking about yours, which is really-.”

“Ben!” Your face turns bright red.

“What? You’re sexy as hell.” Ben purrs tightening his grip on your body, nudging his nose into the shadow of your jaw, and you feel his smile against your skin.

It's not a word that you had heard anyone use to describe you often. The one time you’d heard it was when you’d told Ben that you’d never been with anyone before. You were beautiful, cute, but never sexy.

However the night you and Ben slept together for the first time you felt it, felt sexy the whole night you were with him, powerful because it was you making him fall apart, your name on his lips, you touching him while he looked at you like you were the only woman in the world.

"Sweetheart?" Ben raises his hand from your waist to your chin, turning your face so you're looking at him over your shoulder.

"Hmm?" You whisper lost in the memory of what it was like for him to make love to you.

Probably shouldn't be thinking about that while I'm laying on top of him.

"How many others have there been?" He almost murmurs it, eyes soft in the warm light from the lamp on the bedside table. It was the same question he asked you when you stood outside Rosemary's apartment building, the one that you avoided.

You don't answer immediately.

"Are you afraid to tell me?" Ben whispers with a frown, stroking his thumb over your cheekbone. "That you think I won't want you if you've been with someone else. That I won't love you anymore? That I'll leave you again?"

"Ben-" You breathe.

"I know that you're still trying to forgive me, and that's okay, but I don't want you to be afraid to talk to me or tell me things Sweetheart. I know you don't believe me, but I never want to leave you again. I want to be here with you." His gaze is earnest.  "And I know you keep saying how much it'll hurt you if I leave again, but I swear that if you left it would destroy me."

"Ben-" Tears burn in your eyes with his confession, seeing how he was opening up to you, willing to push past what he'd been conditioned to believe from his father about sharing his feelings, to assure you further how much you meant to him.

His hand drags through your hair gently brushing it back from your face. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You reach back over your shoulder, turning your face into his, noses nudging together as you kiss him.

“No.” He shakes his head softly. “I really love you.”

You snort, smiling into his mouth, your hand curling in his hair. “How is that different?”

“When I came back you said that I didn’t know what love was, but I do. Love is you. You make me so happy. I don’t remember being happy ever except when I’m around you. I’ve never loved anyone but you y/n. And I’m never going to love anyone else like I love you.”

“Ben-“ Tears crest and fall down your cheeks, but Ben brushes them away with his thumb.

“I would do anything for you without question. Nothing you ask me is too much. You mean everything to me. I don’t want to imagine my life without you in it. I spent forty years without you and I don’t want to spend any amount of time away from you. I’m so sorry.”

“Ben we’ve already discussed your apology. You don’t have to apologize anymore.”

“I just still think I have to. I have to fix this.”

“You are.” You smile at him.

“Yeah?” He looks deeply into your eyes. Ben's arm tightens on your waist pulling you further back into his chest. “So you’re happy?”

The question makes you hesitate.

Am I happy?

You think about the past 24 hours, when Ben made you feel more loved than you’d ever had, when he acted like you were everything he ever wanted, when he made you finally believe that this wasn’t one sided, and when he reminded you of the boy you fell in love all those years ago. When even he was wearing his Soldier Boy suit, he was still looking at you to same way, speaking softly to you, and acting differently than he had. He was trying his hardest to make it up to you and you couldn't describe how wonderful it made you feel.

But then your thoughts shift to Rosemary and Homelander.

Truthfully you’d be happier if Rosemary liked Ben or at least could have a conversation with him without ripping his head off and you’d be happier if you weren’t hiding from Vought and Homelander at Legend’s but-

You focus again on the warmth swirling in the pit of your stomach as Ben holds you close to him, the buzz of love and care that comes with every breath and each kiss. And you answer honestly.

“I would be happier if all this shit with Homelander was over, but I am. Very happy.” You squeeze his arm where it lays over your waist with a soft smile.

“Good. That’s all I want for you. That's all I've ever wanted for you." The look in Ben's eyes breaks you, transports you back to the moment he asked you to come with him all those years ago. When he was the only one who understood that you weren’t happy that the future you had with Howard wasn’t the one you wanted.

"It's all I've ever wanted for you too Ben. You deserve that. You deserve more than you think you do and I want to give it to you."

“You have."

The kiss that follows consumes you, makes you burn, destroys you, and then remakes you. You cannot remember a single moment of your life that has felt this way. He is everything you want and something you thought you'd never have, but yet here he is holding you, proclaiming that he loves you, refusing to go, and you never want him to.

"There hasn't been anyone else." You whisper against his lips.

Ben's body freezes when you say that. "What?" Shock dances in his eyes.

"There hasn't been anyone else. Only you." You smile stroking your hands through his hair. "At first I was busy with Rosemary taking care of her and then by the time I started thinking about it again, it never felt right." You bite your lip, cheeks blushing with your confession. "There was an almost once, someone I knew from the gallery, another artist, but it didn't feel right to use him like that when I didn't feel anything for him. I've never felt this way about anyone else. And even with everything that happened, I still felt like a piece belonged with you.  Maybe I should be embarrassed that I haven't since-"

Ben's mouth closes over yours so fast you don't have time to take another breath, one of his hands holding your face to his while the other wraps around your waist, hand splayed on your hip over your t-shirt your own hand covering his.

"All of you belongs with me." Ben moves his hands possessively over the curves of your hips. "Don't be embarrassed about that Sweetheart." He nips your bottom lip fusing his lips against your all over again, before raising his darkened eyes to lock with yours so intensely that it makes you forget how to breathe. "Because it means that I am your first and your only. That no man has ever touched you, ever made love to you, and that you are completely and utterly mine. As it should be." Ben's gaze meets yours and your cheeks flush as a shiver travels down your spine that he doesn't miss. "Just as all of me belongs to you."

He doesn't stutter, he doesn't look ashamed. He says it so simply, so irrevocably honest that it makes your chest tighten.

The weight of his words settle in the pit of your stomach. It was almost the same thing he had said to you the first time you slept together, and it was true, you were his, didn't want to be anyone else's. And for the first time you actually believed that he was yours and that was enough, he was always enough for you.

“Always.” You whisper back, searching his gaze again. And as soon as you say it you’re scared. A piece of you still waits for Ben to pull away from you, for him to suddenly go cold like he did the day that you told him the three little words that meant the world to you.

Why did I say that? It’s too soon. I should have waited. It’s-

And then Ben is kissing you again like he never wants to stop, breathing you in like a man gasping for air, holding you so tight against his chest that he thinks you’ll fade away to nothing in his arms, and smiling into your mouth as if kissing you is the most wonderful thing he can be doing.

Ben clears his throat lips brushing against yours again. "Sweetheart if you keep saying things like that, I don't think I'm gonna be able to stop. And I know that you want to wait."

Did I? Oh right I did. I did want that. Fuck.

"Yes." You murmur. "I do."

"Didn't sound too convincing there doll." Ben's smirk shifts into a smile, his hand gently cupping your cheek as he kisses you one last time. The heat of his skin was hypnotic, everywhere you were pressed against him felt like it would spontaneously combust. "But I don't want to make love to you if you don’t want me to-"

He stumbles slightly on the words ‘make love’ as if it’s difficult for him, grimacing slightly. But it made you smile. The fact that he was trying not to say 'fuck' meant the world to you. Because it meant that Ben really was trying to make up for the past, really trying to show you how much you meant to him.

"I want you to." You search his eyes, watching them darken with your words, causing goosebumps to erupt over your skin.

You really did. Apart of you again was afraid that it was too soon, that you shouldn’t forgive him this easily for what happened, but deep down you knew that you had. You knew he had changed. You knew that what was happening between the two of you was different this time, that you were different and that he was different.

"I want you to make love to me. I want you to show me how much you love me and how sorry you are." You say, repeating what he said to you the night he came back into your life, continuing to stroke your fingers through the dark hair at the back of his head the way you know he likes earning a soft groan that rumbles up through his chest. "I want you to make me forget that night and forget the past forty years." You kiss him again, pulling back to look him in the eye again. "But I want you to make love to me in our home, in our bed. Not here in Legend's house where God knows what has occurred over the years. Not when we're on the run from Homelander. Not when we have to worry about everyone else hearing us.” Your cheeks flush at the prospect of Butcher or Rosemary hearing you and Ben, both of which had supe hearing.

Because that's exactly what she wants to hear right now.

“I want it to happen when things have calmed down a bit. Is that okay?”

“Of course it is.” Ben cups your cheek with a gentleness you never knew he possessed. “You said our.” He breathes with a soft smile, causing your own to mirror it.

“I did. Because it is. It’s our home.”

“Does that mean I get to use the hot water?” Ben smirks.

“If you pay the rent I’ll let you do whatever you want.” You snort, but then suddenly realize the weight of what you’d said.

Ben’s eyes glint with his mischievous smirk. “I like the sound of that doll.” But leans his forehead against yours. “As much as I want Butcher to hear you scream my name," He breathes against you lips. “I’m happy to wait for you. Because I don’t want to rush this, don’t want to rush our time together at least not the first time after all these years. I want to take my time with you.” Ben brushes his lips against yours, thumb rubbing over your jaw to hold your face steady. “I want to savor you.”

Ben smirks wider feeling the shiver that travels down your spine. “Sounds like you’d like that doll.”

"I would." Your lips curve into a smirk as you pull his face back to yours for another kiss.

You sit there together for another few minutes, his hand cupping your cheek, forehead pressed against yours, lips occasionally finding one another, as your heart thuds madly in your chest and you find yourself unable to stop the happiness and warmth that circulates through your body. It felt dangerously similar to how you felt the morning you woke up next to him in bed the morning after your birthday when you couldn't stop yourself from saying that you loved him, but now you welcomed the feeling.

"Can I show you the pictures now?" You breathe.

"Yeah." Ben smiles against your mouth as he kisses you one final time, before leaning back against the headboard and releasing his hold on your face so you can cuddle into him with the photo album perched on your lap once more.

Truthfully your collection of photos had grown exponentially from the small box beneath your bed to a collection of photo albums that lined the bookshelves in your living room at home. This one you had grabbed on the way out of your apartment, shoving it into your suitcase as you went. It held a good amount of pictures from when Rosemary was born to when she got married, and you knew it would be a perfect record of the life Ben had missed when he was in Russia.

"Before I open this," You say quietly, leaning back into him. "I want you to know that I'm only showing this to you because I want you to experience what it was like the past forty years. It is not to make you feel bad for not being there. I want to share this with you, but if you're going to get upset, then I don't want to-"

"Please show me." Ben tightens his arms around your waist again, sitting his chin on your right shoulder so he can see the book perched on your knees.

The picture on the first page is you standing in front of a two story house built out of grayed boards with a collection of white painted wooden steps leading up to a beautiful porch where two wicker chairs sit. A large garden dominates the lawn on either side if the cobblestone path that you stand on which leads to the house behind you. Wildflowers, roses, sunflowers, lavender, daisies, and herbs explode all over the front lawn, curling onto the cobblestone path. You're smiling in the photo, hair loose and pushed back by a wind that Ben can't see, wearing a loose pair of jeans and a large t-shirt, that does little to hide your swelling belly. Standing next to you is an elderly woman, with gray hair pulled back in a bun under a large gardening hat, wearing a faded green dress, but smiling just as widely as you with her arm over your shoulders.

"When I left New York, I went North and ended up in Maine. It seemed like a good place to disappear.  I had never been before and I found a woman, Melanie, who was renting out a room in her home. Her husband had died years ago, she never had any kids, and really no ties to the supe world.” You smile at the memory of the woman in the picture. Melanie had been more of a mother to you than yours ever had been, gently spoke to you, helped you through a dark part of your life when you found little to be happy about while pregnant with Rosemary. "It took her about ten seconds to realize that I was pregnant, but she never pried about my life or why I was there, what I was trying to run from. She was so different than the people we had been around all those years. She was kind, honest, and warm. She taught me how to bake, garden, and cook. She took care of me when I was struggling to find a reason to keep going. I owe so much to her. She was practically a grandmother to Rosie. Rosie loved her so much.”

"Is she-" Ben breathes softly.

"She died right before Rosie went to college and she left me the house."

"That one?"

"Mhmm. It's a bit different now, but mostly the way she left it. I had to remodel it a bit, it’s honestly almost as old as us.” You snort. “But we usually go for a few months every summer. It's about ten acres on the edge of a forest, with this beautiful forest path that leads out to a private beach. There’s no one for miles. The closest town is at least forty minutes away.”

"I want to see it some day."

"We'll go when all this calms down." You promise as you turn the page.

The next picture is of you standing on a chair holding a paintbrush, eyes focused on the wall in front of you. Your hair is pulled back in a red bandana, and you’re wearing a pair of paint splattered overalls, but you're definitely more pregnant in this picture. And you can't help but smile at the memory this picture brings. "I got this crazy idea to paint a mural on the nursery wall. Had to practically fight off Melanie so she'd let me stand on the chair."

"You shouldn't have been if you were that pregnant-" Ben frowns at you and you smile to yourself at his obvious urge to protect you even if he wasn’t there.

"Well how was I supposed to reach the top of the wall Ben? Not everyone is as tall as you.” You laugh. "It really was a nice mural of the forest outside. Melanie convinced me to do a smaller version on a canvas and have it displayed at the local art gallery. It was the first painting I ever sold. The first check I got that I actually felt like I earned."

You point at the picture next to it of you holding up a slip of paper and smiling wide at the camera. You had been so excited about it that you framed it, refused to cash it. It was still hanging on the wall at the house.

"But you earned money from Vought?" You could hear the confusion in his voice.

"It never felt like my money though. All I did was show up for pictures or appearances in malls or commercials and it never really felt real for me. But getting that check was really special, putting my name on something was real."

Ben presses a kiss to your shoulder. "I'm sorry you were so unhappy being a hero."

"I wasn't unhappy. I was just ready for something new. And I found it in Maine. But if this is making you sad I don't want to show you any more-"

Ben catches your wrist as you try to close the album. "I want to see."

The next picture is of you sitting out on the beach. You were wearing a one-piece red bathing suit, head tilted back in the sunlight, eyes closed drinking in the day. You were probably about seven months along and although you didn't like having too many pictures of you taken when you were pregnant, Melanie had insisted on this one and you liked it. Ben's body stiffens beneath you when he sees the picture, his hand moving from your waist to touch the page softly.

"You like that one?" You whisper.

"Yeah." He murmurs back eyes locked on the photo.

"Why? Because I'm practically naked?" You joke nudging your elbow back into his ribs.

"No. Well maybe a little." Ben's chuckle rumbles up through his chest against your back. "You look different. You're glowing."

"Shut up. Why is that a thing that men say to pregnant women? There is no glow. It's nine months of being so bloated and swollen you feel like a flotation device. Nine months of being so hormonal that you're not sure whether or not you want to laugh, cry, or just stay in bed for days. Nine months of wanting to puke your guts out. And don't get me started on the cravings, I'm pretty sure I would have eaten chocolate covered spiders one day if a traveling salesman showed up on the front porch toting a box!"

Okay. Maybe I'm ranting a little bit.

"It's true sweetheart. And I like the picture, because you look happy." His breath is warm against your ear.

"I was. Everything about being there felt right. I was always relaxed, I felt like I could breathe again, and I found myself there. I really needed that after everything." You lay your hand down where Ben's arm's rests on your waist. "Whenever I go back I always feel that way. I always paint better and feel more creative, just something about that house is almost magical." Your cheeks flush. "I know that sounds stupid."

"No." Ben breathes. "It's not. Why do you live in the city if you like it so much there?"

"Because Rosie lives in the city. Her job is there and they're the only family I have left. I don't want Lou to grow up without having me in her life. And I like being in the city. I like my studio, but sometimes it's nice to go to the house in Maine and forget for a little bit."

The picture on the next page is of you sitting in your  bed at the house, holding a baby wrapped in a knitted pink blanket in your arms, smiling down at Rosemary like she's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. And she was. Melanie had delivered her, you were afraid to go to a hospital because you didn’t want the possibility of someone recognizing you and having an announcement in newspapers. Holding Rosie for the first time was bittersweet, because you were so happy and yet there was a sadness that settled over you. At first you couldn't place it, but now sitting here with Ben you understood what it was. You were sad that he wasn't there to hold her too, sad that he was missing this. Of course back then you thought that he was dead and that the only piece of him that you had left was in your arms.

"I like that one too." Ben mutters leaning further over your shoulder to get a better look.

"The first time I held her. She was so little and I was always afraid that I was going to hold her too tightly and hurt her." You smile. "Melanie delivered her. I didn’t want to go to a hospital and risk someone recognizing me. Honestly she was such a big help after, let me have a few moments of rest whenever everything got to be too much. And I was so tired for so long-"

"I'm sorry."

"Ben what did I say about you apologizing for things out of your control?" You press a kiss to his cheek where he is leaning over your shoulder, his beard tickling against your lips.

"I know. I just, I still wish that I could have been there."

“Honestly, you kind of were.”

Ben looks confused. “What?”

“Rosemary’s just like you Ben. When she was younger, she’d get this mischievous look in her eye and I knew that trouble was coming. It was the same one you always had right before you got us in trouble back in Philadelphia. I don’t even want to think about the teen years. And the college ones, forget it.” You groan. “Lou gets the same glint in her eye sometimes. I’m sure you’ll see it.”

“I think she’s like you.”

“What?” You turn to look at him.

“I mean sure she’s got my hair and my eyes, but she’s strong. She doesn’t bend easy. Stubborn-“ Ben smiles.

“You’re stubborn-“

“Not like you.”

“Oh please.” You roll your eyes at him.

“She’s got your smile.” Ben traces his thumb over your lips, cupping your chin gently. “And she’s just as beautiful as you.”

You flush with the compliment. “She's got your protective instincts. She doesn’t let anything slide.”

“I’ve noticed.”  He frowns and it makes your heart break for him.

“I promise one day she’ll warm up to you.”

“I know. I just wish it was today.” Ben sighs, brushing your hair back from your face. “Was it hard to raise her alone?”

“Sometimes.” You answer honestly. “But Melanie helped a lot.”

“I’m so-.” Ben begins.

“If you say I’m sorry one more time I swear I’m going to  kick you out of this bed!” You joke, but you both know the threat holds no power. Not when it feels this good to be in his arms.

 “You're here now." You whisper, softly running your hand over where his arms hold you tight against him. "And that's all that matters to me."

He turns his face to look at you, chin still on your shoulder, green eyes so soft they remind you of grass on a warm summer day. "I don't want to be anywhere else Sweetheart."

"Good." Your heart flutters in your chest, and Ben smiles when he hears it, his own thudding in his chest against his rib cage so hard you can feel it where it's pressed against your back.

And this time as you begin to fall, you know that he's going to catch you.

Rosemary POV

Rosemary tried to read through her book, tried to drown out the sound of her mother and her supposed father in the lower parts of the house with the smooth flow of words on the written page in front of her, but she couldn't. She found herself reading the same sentence over and over again while Lou slept in the bed beside her, her small body curled into a ball wearing her favorite pink polka dot pajamas beneath the gaudy bright red and gold comforter that only a man would choose for a bedroom.

Legend was exactly as she remembered him, eccentric like an old rich uncle that you'd never met but somehow remembers to send you a check each year for your birthday. But she could see how much Legend cared about you and that made him family, distant family, but still family. She knew what Legend had done for you after Ben left, how Legend had helped you through the weeks that followed Ben's death, helped you close all your bank accounts, and help you vanish without a trace. He kept your secrets from Vought and didn't question when you had showed up again toting someone you said was your cousin, but looked like Ben.

Rosemary sighs, hands tightening on her book as she listens to Ben and you talk quietly in the basement. She heard every word that Ben said to you, every promise that he made, every kiss that he laid on your lips.

The truth was, Rosemary didn't want to hate him and maybe she really didn’t, but she was still angry.

When she was a child her imaginary friend was Ben, or rather the version of Ben that you told her about, the one that was always there for you as a child, who climbed in your bedroom window, and the boy who was your best friend. Although she had you, Rosemary was lonely, not allowed to go to school with other children because of her abilities, not allowed to make friends until she was older, and not allowed to go into town. She didn't resent you for that, she understood that you did those things to protect her, just as she did those things to protect Lou, but to get through those lonely days she spoke to Ben or rather the version of him that lived in her head.

The one that was kind, who laughed at her jokes, sang with her to bad karaoke songs, who danced with her in her room to songs that you yourself called "noise" and looked at every one of the ridiculously bad paintings that she created and lied, telling her that they were masterpieces.

But that version didn't exist. And the real version she met a few hours ago was not what she expected. He looked, normal, wearing jeans and a t-shirt, with his dark hair falling forward into his eyes. Soldier Boy looked just like anyone else you'd see on the street, handsome yes. Anyone could see that.

Whenever you would leave the house to go to the grocery store and Melanie was asleep, Rosemary would sneak into your bedroom, lounge on your bed and look through your box of photos. Seeing the ones of you as a child with your own mother, seeing the ones of her grandparents together, the photos of Ben and you together as heroes, and finally the yellowed collection of photos from a photobooth of Ben and you as teenagers smiling and laughing. She loved that collection of photos, loved how happy you looked with Ben, and loved how happy he seemed to be. It was one of the only pictures you had of the two of you as children that Rosemary could find, but that made it all the more special to her.

She wanted you to be happy. And before you had told her the story of what happened between you and Ben, Rosemary, as a child, had imagined Ben showing up after all those years, walking up the worn front steps of the house that always creaked, through the front screen door that always slammed no matter how softly you shut it, and into the house so the three of you could be a family.

All children want that. Want a family that feels whole.

And although Rosemary never met Ben before she had the oddest feeling as a child that there was something missing. She hoped that Lou didn’t feel that way about her family.

Rosemary sighs and allows her book to fall down on her chest, trying not to think about the photos or Ben or her mother. She knew she wasn't going to get any sleep. Whenever she closed her eyes all she saw was you standing in the hallway outside her apartment holding the hand of the man who ruined your life, who abandoned you and broke your heart.

How can she just forgive him like that? How can she just pretend that nothing happened? That he didn't break her? That he didn't say any of those things?

Rosemary couldn't understand and deep down underneath it all, she was afraid. Not of Ben, she didn't believe that he would physically hurt you, if he did or tried to she would rip him in half, but of what he could do to you.

She could see how different you were and he'd only been back in your life for a day. She saw how you looked at him, how you seemed to smile more, how you seemed to almost shine when he looked at you. She'd never seen you look so utterly and completely happy before. Sure you'd been happy, but it didn't mean that Rosemary didn't worry about you, because she did. She worried that you were lonely, that you weren't allowing anyone into your life because you were still broken, and she could see the cracks that you tried to hide from everyone else, the cracks that had been there as long as she'd known you, the same ones that Ben left behind when he threw you away like you meant nothing to him.

The problem Rosemary saw when she looked at you now, is that she could see those cracks slowly fading, and she was worried what would happen if Ben abandoned you again.

Maybe that's why she couldn't forgive him, because of how easy it was for him to treat you that way.

Rosemary stops to listen to you talk softly to him about the life you and Rosemary had and could hear the telltale flip of the pages of the photo album.

Even though she was angry with Ben, she couldn't believe how patient he was being with you. How softly he looked at you, how he never took his eyes off of you, not in a possessive way, but in a protective way, like he was willing to throw himself in between you and whatever or whoever tried to hurt you.

She also wasn't expecting to look so much like him. Sure Rosemary had seen pictures, watched every single one of Soldier Boy's films, music videos, and commercials to learn more about him. But in person was different.

Rosemary sighs, drumming her fingers against the cover of the book on her chest.

She just didn't want you to get hurt again, didn't want him to hurt you, didn't want to let Ben into her life either if he was just going to vanish all over again.

Rosemary's eyes drift to where Lou sleeps silently. She wasn't happy with how comfortable Lou was getting around Ben, because again, if Lou started to rely on him too and Ben just left it would break Lou.

She huffs out a breath, settling down into the unfamiliar bed. Her thoughts drift to Homelander. Rosemary wasn't afraid of him, one touch would make her just as unstoppable as him, but she was worried about you.

She was always worried about you. When you told her that you were going to Russia to get Ben, Rosemary felt her heart stop. She didn't want you to go alone, and she certainly didn't want you to expose yourself to the world, not after everything she had done to keep you hidden.

Rosemary's jaw tightens. There were things she hadn't told you, things that she did to protect you just as you had protected her and Lou, things that if you ever found out wouldn't understand. Sacrifices were necessary and a deal had to be made to ensure that you were safe.

And now that Ben was back and Homelander knew about you, Rosemary wasn't sure how long those secrets could stay hidden.

Soldier Boy POV

Ben trailed his hand softly up and down your back holding you closer to him where you were laying on his chest. Your head was directly over his heart, hair fanning out behind you, breathing evenly while you slept.

Ben smiled to himself. It was better than he remembered. Ben could feel any anger he still had about the past fading with each breath you took. While your soft sighs and the gentle beat of your heart lulled him into a calm that he hadn't felt in forty years. 

He couldn’t remember a time where he felt so happy, but he knew that it was probably the last time he held you like this. The morning that you told him you loved him and all he wanted was to say it back to you.

Ben tenses for a moment as the shame comes back over him in a never ending wave as he thinks about what he did to you, but now it’s lessened. You said that you’d forgiven him, and Ben believed you, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to do everything he could to make you happy everyday the rest of your life.

The sunlight was peaking through the floor length curtains on the edges of the room, sending a gentle light over the bed.

But he didn't want to wake you up, not yet, not when you were holding on to him like you thought he would vanish, not when you looked years younger in the sweet relief of sleep, and not when Ben wanted to stay in bed just a little longer.

This was exactly what he wanted every day for the rest of his life, to exist here with you, feeling your soft curves against his broad chest, hearing your heart beat steadily in your chest, and feeling your hair tickle just under his chin. It was what he dreamed about when he was in the lab, getting back to you, being with you again, and now that he had it, he wasn’t going to let it slip through his fingers ever again.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head before he can stop himself continuing to rub your back just as gently as he had before.

You sigh softly, mouth twitching into a smile as you cuddle further into him, the arm you have thrown over his chest tightening just for a moment.

Someone knocks at your door and before Ben can do anything, Rosemary walks in.

“Mom I need to talk to you about-“ She stops, eyes focusing on Ben and your intimate position.

Could be worse. We could be naked.

Ben’s not sure what to do. He hadn’t expected her to hate him so much, hadn’t expected her to have the reaction she did as soon as she laid eyes on him for the first time.

At first he had been frustrated with himself for not being there angry because he had been away from you when you needed him the most. And when he realized how much Rosemary hated him, he’d turned that frustration on you. Yelled at you because you’d told Rosemary what had happened between the two of you.

He hadn’t meant to do that again, to lose his temper like that. Not to mention he figured that Rosemary could hear everything that he’d shouted at you.

He understood that he needed to calm down and give her time, but he wanted her to like him and he knew that he wasn’t the most patient person. He was trying to be better for you.

He’d never liked his old man and look how he’d ended up? He didn’t want to have that kind of relationship with his kid, and especially didn't want to have that kind of relationship with Rosemary because he saw how close you were with her. And he worried that if he couldn't get Rosemary to like him that you'd pull away from him, push him out of your family and then he'd be alone all over again.

She said that it was your family too.

Ben thought to himself remembering last night, when you showed him what the past forty years had been like while curled up against him. He remembered every photo, every story you told him, while you smiled, kissed him and made him feel like he was there with you all those years. He wished he was, but it was the next best thing, because you weren't looking at him like you were afraid he was going to leave, you were looking at him the same way he remembered the morning after you made love and it made him feel hopeful.

But right now watching Rosemary frown at him and you, that hope was sizzling up like an egg on a hot day.

"Um. Good morning." Ben half-smiles, but Rosemary doesn't return it.

You begin to stir on his chest, squeezing him just a little harder as you do as if to reassure yourself that he's there, before you blink open your eyes to stare at him.

Ben's gaze flicks down to yours.

"Morning." You sigh happily, pressing a kiss to his chest right over his heart and nuzzling your face into his soft t-shirt. For a moment Ben forgets that Rosemary is standing there and can't help but smile back at you.

"Morning Sweetheart." He whispers, brushing back some of your hair from your face.

Rosemary clears her throat loudly, before crossing her arms over her chest.

Ben watches you realize that she's there. You sit up and turn towards the doorway that leads into the basement bedroom.

"Rosie hi." Ben can hear the anxiety in your voice and he hates it. He wanted to let you asleep just a little longer so you didn't have to deal with this so soon.

"I have to talk to you."

"Oh okay." You sit up and adjust so that you're sitting beside Ben rather than on top of him. "What is it?"

Rosemary's eyes flick to where Ben is sitting next to you. "Alone."

Ben feels his chest tighten when she says that and tries to fight the sigh that builds behind it.

Can't she see that I'm trying to make up for everything? That I am trying to be better than I was?

He can feel the anger and frustration coming back, washing away the calm he felt when he woke up with you on his chest, causing his feelings of happiness to evaporate once more.

You glance over at Ben for a second, with an apology in your gaze, before you look back at Rosemary. "Okay. Give me a minute. I'll meet you on the porch."

"Sure." Rosemary waits a second as if there's something else she wants to say, but she thinks better of it and leaves, her footsteps soft against the stairs.

"Ben I'm sorry-" You begin to say, but he sighs.

"It's alright Sweetheart."

But deep down it doesn't feel alright, and Ben can't help but feel a little disappointed by all of this.

"Baby." You whisper, touching his cheek softly to turn his face to yours.

He's never prepared for the way it feels when you touch him, even just the slightest brush of your fingers against his skin sends him into overdrive. It's never been this way with anyone, just you, and he never wants to get used to the way your touch makes him burn.

"I know when you're lying." You press your forehead against his, and Ben can't help but wrap an arm around your waist to pull you closer against him.

"I know."

"I promise that this is going to get better. Okay?"

"Okay."

"I'll see you in a little bit?" You nudge your nose against his, smiling against his mouth.

"Yeah. I think I'll take a shower."

"Good, because you're still smell like drywall and smoke."

"Shut up." Ben rolls his eyes at you, but he can't help but smile.

"But-" You press your lips against his, making his entire body feel like it's on fire, your lips soft and supple against his, making a pleasant buzz vibrate in his chest. "You also smell a little bit like me."

"You like that doll?" He murmurs.

"I fucking love it." You kiss him one more time, tangling your hands in his hair, fingers brushing against his hair just like you know he likes and he can't help but groan softly.

Sometimes he didn't believe that you were real, that you cared enough to pay attention to what he liked, that you remembered everything about him, and that you saw all the pieces of him that he tried to hide beneath the bravado he forced himself to adopt long ago so that he was the version of the man his father wanted him to be. But now he wanted to be the man that you wanted him to be and he would be.

And somewhere deep down he knew, that you just wanted him to be him, and that would be enough.

A/N: It's a whole lot of fluff until the ending and I'm so sorry for how sad it got. But hopefully in the coming chapters Rosemary really will try to get to know him and will try to forgive Ben.

As always thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist please let me know :)

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[ckret2]

Anything you really love from the website

Bill's breakdown over Stan

Bill's "lie until you aren't lying anymore" monologue from the Reddit AMA being canonized and expanded—literally my favorite Bill quote, thrilled to see it made official

getting to hear Bill say "dammit"

that country song with the lady covered in Bill tats

the soul contract

the adorable Axolotl tank video

Ford + Mabel bonding journal pages

Robbie & Thompson summoning Bill with spaghetti

Mabelizing the lab

the video from Normal Al

the literal creepy pasta

Bill's unexpectedly empowering monologue on nihilism

the glimpses into Theraprism and their process of actually attempting to therapize Bill

the fact that Bill jumpscares you if you call him a chip/dorito/nacho

the riddle game (I feel like we still haven't solved all of it, I don't think the answer to the Silas Birchtree question is actually Ciphertology)

the romance novel & knockoff goosebumps parodies

season 3 -> season 2

surprise Bill Cipher mpreg ultrasound

the little glimpses at the affection & love Bill got as a baby (the song about his eye, the oddly affectionate way someone talks onabout how he called shoelaces fascist because he couldn't tie them until he was 16, the picture of him as a happy little child being held up)

the bit about breakups in the expanded chapter on humans

poor Ford's rejected scientific paper on Fordtramarine

not s&p approved

[childe-wei]

If you enjoy MDZS, you'll probably like this too!

It even starts similarly, with the protagonist being very canceled and getting killed for being a menace to society.

And if you want to compare them to Wangxian:

Opposites attract - They have that light/dark thing going on.

Terrible circumstances and an inability to communicate tragically separate them before they get a miraculous second chance.

Will bend over backwards to protect each other at their own expense.

Power couple! Formidable BAMFs!

Shameless PDA after getting together.

Penchant for ruining the day of uppity aristocrats by unearthing their malicious schemes.

Protag with gaps in his memories revolving around the love interest. Takes A While to figure out how not normal he is about said love interest.

Love interest with sugar daddy vibes. Spoils the protag.

Frequent pauses to admire how handsome and/or smart the other is.

why you should read Turning aka please check out my new hyperfixation

[novaricewrites]

I don't understand how a man who drugs and assaults you is potential for romance - let alone portrayed as a feminist king and spouse goals who is ultimately the tragic and noble ruler by both author and so many in a fandom.

(said man also reinforces an apartheid state and complains but does jack-shit about mass gender violence despite being 'all-powerful' but stans aren't ready for that conversation)

And let's not pretend that physically punching or dragging someone you claim to love on a hike after knowing she's emaciated and mentally unwell is just cute TENSION.

Like at a certain point, people are getting way too comfortable romanticizing it and excusing their obsession with 'it's just fiction' only when it is convenient for them. And certain authors are capitalizing on that to continue writing shitty novels that are just fetishes and trauma porn with harmful implications wrapped up in a shiny bow.

I feel especially concerned when so many of these implications can translate to real life situations and promotes brushing them under the rug.

[woobiedoovo]

Stan was always the more romantic of the two twins. When he was a kid, he would dream about getting married. Whenever Stan talked the idea, Ford would simply scrunch his nose and furrow his brow, claiming that love wasn’t something he really cared about. With an embarrassed laugh, Stan would push the idea of him marrying a boy that looked like him to the back of his mind, away from prying eyes and questioning thoughts.

As he got older, he would swipe his Ma’s romance novels and read them under the covers, making up scenarios in his mind where he would swoop in and save the damsel in distress. Sometimes, when he’d finally put down the poorly written book for the night, he’d even let himself imagine him in place of the damsel, being saved by a man with one too many fingers.

After he got kicked out, romance wasn’t his first priority. Or his second, or third. He got married once or twice, and both ended horribly. And even if they didn’t, he doubt they would have lasted long. Not when he’d imagine curly brown hair and sharp, hazel eyes instead of his partner.

When Ford called him to his cabin, he couldn’t help but think the shack was exactly what Stan would love in a home. A home for lazy Saturday mornings, where all you want to do is curl up in the arms of the person you love and stay there until the sun goes down. And then the portal happened, and Stan spent the night cold and alone just like he had for the past ten years.

[senseandaccountability]

“It takes the wrong sort to put the world right.”

A huge problem for me with the tone of the narrative is that outside a very carefully curated playthrough experience with preconceived ideas of and love for Solas, Veilguard is probably the least compassionate game I’ve played in forever, while spouting out lines about how everyone can find a new path in life because our nature isn’t written in stone, our fates are our own, as well as plenty of HR department lines about working together as a team.

“It takes the wrong sort to put the world right.” The game says that, but it definitely doesn’t mean it. At least I don’t feel it. You are so very rarely challenged in your idea of who this wrong sort is and what they could bring to the table. Davrin speaks of the Wardens recruiting at the Gallows but you meet only adorable, righteous and charming ones. The Crows aren’t the wrong sort anymore, they’re just adorably Antivan upper class. And so on and so forth. Rook certainly isn’t the wrong sort either, they’re mentally around 19 years old and stumbling their way through the world like some romance novel protag. In one of the most thematically shallow plots, Rook gets thrown into a prison of regret fit to hold a god but unlike Solas, Rook doesn’t do regrets or guilt because Rook isn’t that complex. Rook hasn’t been allowed to feel any guilt for three acts, just how are they meant to be stuck in a regret prison?  

Compare with Origins where you yourself could be just that wrong sort that would put the world right. ALL of my Origins PCs would get stuck in Solas’s prison due to the weight of their own fuckups. If not during the game events where you could make shitty moves en masse, then because of their origin stories. Brosca and Tabris would get out of there through sheer fury alone - fuck you, I am a wreck because YOU MADE ME ONE, WORLD OF THEDAS - but the nobles would stew. Amell would loop in some guilt trip regarding blood magic and Jowan and whatnot.

Compare with Origins where Loghain is a piece of shit for most of the narrative. He actively wants to kill you and your Order, it’s nothing personal (okay, a little personal) but he just needs you gone. If you want to, you can hack and slash your way through some release there and just have him executed. BUT the game also challenges you on that idea. It presents a very pragmatic alternative that comes with a very plausible downside (you lose Alistair). It presents not excuses but explanations - do with them what you will. Loghain has people in his corner through the entire trilogy, arguing his case. Cauthrien FALLS TO HER KNEES before you, pleading to spare his life. Threnn in DAI will stan him for the rest of her life. Anora tells you stories about the man behind the name.  And Arl Eamon’s world view and idea of Loghain is shown to be more than a little self-serving when faced with the politics of the Landsmeet. Things around Loghain blur. In the Ostagar DLC they allow things to blur even further when Loghain’s pragmatism is countered by Wynne’s player character-moralism (ie “someone died, it’s always wrong if someone died even if that death prevented 9000000 deaths you KILLED someone!!!!!111”). Origins tells me - or hints at - why Loghain became the wrong sort, shows me ways in which he is also the right sort and leaves me wondering about him. Because the game is gritty and dark and weird but also yes, compassionate. If you execute him, Anora will mourn him because she loves him regardless. If you have him join the Wardens she will sit with him while he recovers because he is undeniably an asshole but he’s also her father who braided her hair and showed her the world. A good narrative never, ever forgets that.  Veilguard feels so different here, maybe it's just me. I'm pretty sure I'm almost done being salty now, I just... feel a lot about narratives.

[christianbalesblueadidas]

routine surveillance

batman x f!reader

a certain vigilante likes late night tv. but instead of the tonight show on his big television set at home, he watches you through your window.

warnings: NSFW, minors DNI (18+), masturbation (f), voyeurism, stalking, sex toys

word count: 1.1k

a/n: can be any batman you want but i'm a bale bat stan and i've noticed how stalker-y he is towards his love interests in his trilogy so... (too bad he didn't stalk miranda tate. could've saved him a stab wound.)

For his sanity and his morals, Batman rationalizes that stopping by your apartment window every night is just a routine background check. He only snoops on you for five minutes every night in the middle of patrol to see if you're a serious threat to him. Sometimes, on quiet nights, he watches you through your bedroom window for more than five minutes — of course, only to see if you're planning anything nefarious.

It has become part of his nightly routine when he goes on patrol. And it's becoming a bad habit. It's become so predictable by now.

Night after night, he finds himself standing outside your apartment's window, peeking through the curtains to see if you are doing anything suspicious.

Every time he thinks to himself that these midnight checkups are just part of his nightly routine and necessary to make sure you aren't a threat. Every other time, he can't help but admit the fact that he's becoming obsessed with keeping tabs on you.

Throughout the entire two weeks he has been surveilling you, you have done nothing of note. Nothing at all. But that doesn't stop Batman. He reasons that it's for Gotham's safety, not his personal stalker tendencies when a woman interests him.

Tonight is another one of those quiet nigts. He crouches on the rooftop of the building next to yours, looking through your bedroom window. You never close the curtains because you never thought anybody would be able to look in due to its height.

He watches as you read a novel under the dim, warm light of your bedside lamp. It's one of those cheap romance books that are filled with cliches and dirty scenes — something light to read before bed. You sigh, closing the book and slamming it onto my nightstand. You've clearly grown tired of it.

But you don't want to sleep yet. However, you're still very bored. With another sigh, you throw your blanket off your legs. You slide your underwear from under your oversized shirt, much to his shock.

All those other nights, he would keep his composure. But this time, he felt as if his mind was getting clouded. He is frozen in place, unable to tear his eyes away from you as he continues to watch with bated breath.

Is this the kind of man Batman is? It is, apparently, as he continues to be a peeping tom. He is many things: Gotham's dark knight, a caped crusader, a vigilante. And now, he can add one more thing to his resume: pervert.

He stares as you pull a pale skin-colored dildo out from your nightstand drawer. It's a decent size but still big. You're not unrealistic, he takes note. He never thought you'd be the kind of woman to own one, but he's finding out many things about himself and you tonight.

Your back is turned to the window, and in consequence, to him. You have no way of knowing that he is watching you. He can't see your expressions either.

You bite your lip as your position the toy on your hands and knees. You rub it along your slit to spread your juices on it, lubing it up. He can clearly hear the soft noises coming out of your mouth because of the tech in his cowl.

When you finally think you're ready, you begin to push the toy inside you, a long, drawn out moan escaping your lips. A hand on its base to keep it still on your mattress, you bounce on it, airy whimpers and moans spilling from your mouth.

He can't see much from the angle and because of my oversized shirt. But he can hear everything as you ride your toy, all thanks to his cowl. Despite his iron will and morality, he can't bring himself to even turn off the audio feed.

He should leave.

His conscience keeps telling him to just jump off the roof and take off with his grapple gun. He should. He really, really should.

He knows he should go now, but something is keeping him in place. His body won't move, his eyes unable to look away from you as the heat inside him keeps building up.

Why isn't he leaving?

He knows he needs to go, but the sight of you moving above your toy, your soft moans filling his ears like sweet poison. He can't bring himself to leave, his body slowly filling with want and desire.

His gloved hand slowly moves to grip onto the roof, his knuckles turning white from the grip as he fights the urge to move closer to the window. He knows he can't. That he shouldn't. But he wants to.

You slowly fall on your front, your face hitting the pillows. Your ass is now up in the air, giving him an explicit show. Your hand that used to hold the toy in place is now moving it, pumping it in and out of you in a languid pace. In consequence, the change in position has Batman seeing the toy stretching you out, wetness dripping down your thigh.

He is gripping onto the roof so hard, he's breaking the tiles. It's taking all of his will power not to just jump down through your window and give you what you need.

But he won't, he can't.

He is the symbol of justice. The one who fights for righteousness and order.

But god, hearing those desperate moans and your sloppy pussy is just driving him to the brink of madness. He is close to the point where he can't take it anymore. His cock is getting so hard that it's uncomfortable in his suit, confined by the rough armor.

The noises coming from your room are sloppy and wet, the sound of the toy slipping in and out of you mingling with your needy little moans and whimpers and gasps. You press your face onto the pillows a bit harder as your hand quickens the pace it thrusts the toy. He can see all of it, glistening flesh stretching around the pale skin-colored silicone.

Suddenly, your whole body quivers and pauses, thick fluid dripping down onto the mattress. He hears you let out a deep moan, a sound akin to relief. You let go of the toy and it quickly falls onto the small puddle on the sheets. He watches your flesh twitch and glisten around nothing and he wishes it's around his cock instead.

Then, his nightmare comes true.

You look back from your position and your eyes meet. You've been fully aware that he's been spying on you. And you've been wishing that dildo was his cock too.

What a pervert, you think about Batman — as you bite your lip and beckon him to join you inside with a come hither motion.

[cucumber-icepop]

Website spoilers under the cut! Every password I could think to try, being updated as I go

If you input the password "Cipher" it takes you to the Wikipedia page for Triangles, and if you put in "Bill" it takes you to a Youtube video of a Sesame Street song about triangles!

"Billcipher" takes you to the Wikipedia page for the eye of providence

"Ford" takes you to a page written by scientists(?) discussing his hands.

"Euclydia" brings up the text "DIMENSION NOT FOUND" :(

"Alex" takes you to the Google search page for flannel. Cool

"Pines" brings up the text "A GOOD FAMILY TREE"

"Stan" brings up an Ebay page for brass knuckles. (This happens with "Stanley" too!)

"Blanchin" brings up a Youtube video on how to "blanch" vegtables.

"Dipper" brings up a slip of paper written by Bill telling him that he needs to stare directly into the sun to crack some of the codes in the book.

"Mabel" puts star stickers all over the webpage!

"McGucket" brings up the Cotton Eye Joe song on Youtube.

"Soos" brings up a few pages written by Soos about what it's like being the new Mr. Mystery. There's pudding on the page

"Pinata" (a code suggested in Soos' letter) pulls up a video of a Bill pinata being beaten, Alex is voicing him in the video. Get him!!!!

"Baby" pulls up a Bill ultrasound????????????

"Blindeye" pulls up an image WITH CODES!!!!!!!! LET'S GOOOOO

"Prism" doesn't work, but corrupts the prism on the screen.

"Gideon" pulls up audio of Gideon singing.

"Pacifica" brings up a letter written by Pacifica (and Mabel!!)

"Season 1" brings up text about "Season -1" of "Antigravity Falls"

"Season 2" brings up "Season 1", and "Season 3" brings up "Season 2". There is no easter bunny there is no tooth fairy

"Divorce" brings up the O'Sadley's logo (the beer Bill drinks) and a zip file???????? The zip file is just the png of the logo

"Wendy" pulls up a page where Wendy tricks the viewer.

"Robbie" brings up a chatlog between him and Thompson, they summon Bill

"Reality" brings up the text "IS AN ILLUSION"

"Universe" brings up the text "HOLOGRAM"

"Rat" brings up text saying "THURBURTS' NUMBER?"

"Weird" brings up A VIDEO OF WEIRD AL?????

"Gravityfalls" brings up text saying "NEVER HEARD OF IT"

"Waddles" brings up a website called "Pig Placement Network". It's a pig adoption website!

"Death" brings up text saying "LIFE'S GOTH COUSIN"

"Life" brings up text saying "LIFE: 72% COMPLETE. NOW LOADING: DEATH"

"Axolotl" brings up text reading "YOU ASK ALOTL QUESTIONS"

"Fuck" brings up a picture reading: NOT S&P APPROVED! WASH YOUR MOUTH OUT WITH SOAP" and a picture of soap lmaooooo. This also happens if you type in "Shit"

"Thebookofbill" pulls up text reading "HIDE IT UNDER SHIRT DURING PLEDGE OF ALLEGIANCE" ??????

"Mason" (I can't believe it took me this long to try that) brings up a page written by Dipper where he writes some anagrams. Ford has written something about a Cryptogram Codex on the bottom of the page.

"Cryptogram Codex" causes another zip file to be instantly downloaded. It contains different fonts for some of the codes used in TBoB!

"Theraprism" brings up this image

Very cool

"Love" brings up an image of Bill's stupid romance novel

"Journal3" pulls up text reading "THE JOURNAL FOR ME"

"Journal2" pulls up text reading "THE JOURNAL FOR YOU"

"Journal1" brings up text reading "THE JOURNAL OF FUN". Journal is looking less and less like a word to me

"Sorry" brings up the full picture of Ford and McGucket in college. What if I cried

"God" pulls up a video of a Bill statue in an aquarium with an Axolotl

"Lies" brings up a long page written by Bill, where he talks about lying and reality. It ends with a short video of flickering text reading "LIE UNTIL YOU AREN'T LYING ANYMORE".

"Scalene" and "Euclid" both bring up text saying "LIFE FORM NOT FOUND" I'm in shambles

I'm going to end the post here, I've been doing this for an hour, and the people running the main codes Google doc already have most of the results down. Aohurz av hufvul dov ylhkz aopz, zahf dlpyk, huk kypur dhaly!

[mermaidsirennikita]

I wonder how many times Lisa Kleypas cackled quietly to herself when writing about the Marsden disdain for Yankee fortunes in Again the Magic, because I know she had approximately all of Mommy’s Favorite Hero’s (Westcliff) life planned out at this point

[spitdrunken]

relationships: robin x reader, sunday & robin, sunday & reader

notes: ambiguous relationships, implied mind control (not with robin/reader)

Robin is pretty particular about the people she wants to date, and has a certain modus operandi. Due to her cross-galaxy fame, it’s pretty much impossible for her to go on dating apps, at least via the usual channels. But she doesn’t want to limit her dating pool to just fellow celebrities, either. Masterful at disguises as she is, during first contact and first dates she has a tendency to hide her real identity, though she would never wait long before revealing herself. Even prior to how famous she is now, she has been burnt in the past by people being interested in who they think she is, rather than who she actually is as a person.

She has a special fondness for romance novels, and spends quite a bit of time discussing them on online forums. Online is one of the places she does not have to worry about how she presents herself, and she can gush in anonymity like anyone else. Thinking of a meet-cute is one of the few unrealistic dreams Robin allows herself, but perhaps she meets you through prolonged chatting online. Starting from your shared interests and underneath fake aliases, before spreading out to subject such as your actual lives and the people around you. Your friend is rather secretive, not giving out her exact name or showing pictures, but you assume it’s just in the name of privacy, until…

You: no waaaaaayyyyy You: where’s the /j?? birdie i swear lmao You: you’re kidding right You: or are you actually being serious?? wait wait ok You: ok if you’re serious. ily girl and no offense but like. send me a picture of you and a note with my username on it or smth? cuz im sure you can imagine it’s kinda hard to believe you’re THAT Robin

And she does! She sends you multiple pictures in fact, in multiple poses, to reassure you that the images aren’t A.I.-generated. When she apologises to you for hiding who she really is, she does it through a voice message, and you can hear one of the most envied voices in the galaxy speak just to you. It’s… Kind of overwhelming? But at the same time, it doesn’t change all that much.

She’s still your friend, who you’ve talked about to your struggles and gushed about your interests to, who always listens and always has a nice word to say. Who, if she has any faults, is always too hard to herself, never seeming to cut herself a break. Who always seems to be asleep at different times, and can disappear for days at a time. You thought she just had a horrifically wrecked sleep schedule, but this would explain that! Maybe it helps that, though you’re definitely familiar with Robin, you wouldn’t call yourself a fan or stan of hers.

When she confesses her feelings for you, it’s over the phone, a rare trembling enter his voice as she carefully considers her words.

“I’ve thought… A lot of times about how to put this. I still don’t really know how,” she says, laughing lightly. “I don’t want to lose what we have now. In my life, you’re one of the few people I can always turn to— Who I can show… Other sides of myself. I’ll just say it. It’s not really as romantic as the books we’ve read, but, I’ve fallen for you. Would you care to meet, sometime? And go on a date? I don’t want to pressure you, or feel like you have to do this. If you’re not interested, I still really, really would like to be your friend.”

There are a lot of conversations to be had when you begin to date Robin. It’s not going to be exactly easy. Not only do you need to be prepared to be put on blast on social media and feature in gossip articles, you’ll have to deal with the fact that she’ll be away on travel most of the time. Including to dangerous places, such as active warfronts.

This is something that, regardless of their love for you or anyone else, is integral to Robin’s life, and one thing she’ll never change. If that is something you cannot come to terms with and this reveals itself during your conversations, you’d be better off remaining friends. You can accompany Robin on certain travels, maybe even all of them, depending on the kind of person you are, but for a long while at least, Robin won’t settle anywhere permanently.

But if you manage to get through all of this, Robin is a wonderful girlfriend. She writes you letters and sends you gifts no matter where she goes, and makes time to call you at least once a day whenever she can. In interviews, she’ll bring you up as one of the people who give her strength, and her face lights up when she speaks of you. At events, she’d enjoy helping you dress up in whatever style you want, and constantly keeping your arms interlinked as you walk around.

While she isn’t all that touchy in public, she’d be clingy whenever it’s just the two of you. Making up for lost time together. Another thing she would enjoy is putting the both of you in increasingly elaborate disguises for public outings together! She has to make the fact she’s nearly always followed around by paparazzi fun somehow.

One of the largest ‘hurdles’ when dating Robin is, funnily enough, meeting her older brother Sunday. She speaks of him with nothing but affection and the occasional tinge of worry (though, when you tell her that she has the exact same kind of habits towards overworking herself, it’s suddenly not so bad after all).

Robin herself seems to have no fears that you won’t meet her brother’s standards, but you have your doubts, really. If your glances over the letters he’s written her are anything to go by, he loves Robin just as much as she loves him, if not even more so. While his approval is important to her, you’re certain that she would never break up with you over it, or anything of the sort. Still… You can’t help but feeling nervous.

Your worries aren’t unfounded. Over a dinner in Penacony’s Dreamscape, Sunday seems to scrutinise you, gaze boring into your forehead. All the time, there is nothing but a gentle smile on his face. Yet, you’ve never felt to be under such a strong spotlight, not even at events accompanied by Robin, walking across massive stages. Your head hurts, but you’re guessing it’s just from the general stress that you’re feeling.

As Robin laughs about the type of meal manifested on her brother’s plate (“An Alfalfa Salad for yourself? I really thought you would’ve gone for something sweeter, brother!”), you shift on your seat in discomfort and attempt to keep small talk conversations going.

Perhaps it’s your mind being tricks on you, perhaps you are ‘spiraling in on yourself’, as Robin sometimes calls it, but you really do believe that this man does not like you whatsoever. When you can’t take it anymore, you move your chair. Its loud scraping breaks up any conversation.

The smile on your face is wobbly. “I’m just going to go to the bathroom for a second. Excuse me.”

Robin puts her hand on your arm. “I can show you where it is? The mansion’s layout can be a bit confusing at times, even though I’ve been here plenty of times myself.”

Sunday, across the table, shakes his head and gets up. “Please stay seated, sister. As the host, it is my duty to guide your… Partner, to wherever they may need to go. Allow me to guide you.”

Somehow, your attempted escape has become a new trap in and of itself. It’s practically impossible to deny to go with him now, though, so you straighten your shoulders, nod, and follow Sunday further into his home. The clacking of his shoes on the marble floor is the only noise keeping you two company as you walk a step behind him. He stops. There is no bathroom, here. Only a giant paint of Robin situated on the wall. She’s smiling. Sunday turns half a circle around and stares at it, hands folded together behind his back.

“You…” he speaks slowly. “Do you think you can make her happy?”

Your head throbs. Your head hangs a little to the side, as you stare at the painting. “I think… When I met Robin, she was already happy. In a sense. She has a purpose. A goal she’ll always keep striving for— No matter what. Chasing that, I think it makes her feel more fulfilled than many people… Like me.”

You slowly shake your head. “So, no, I don’t think just myself could make her happy. But as things are now, she is. I do add something to her life, but… I don’t think the rest could be taken away.”

You stare at Sunday. If there is a thought that hits you now, in the painfully placid nature of his expression, in the manner he has watched you all evening, it is not merely protectiveness that fuels him. In part, it is jealousy, too.

You sway a little on your feet.

“You act as if Robin does not care for you,” you smile wistfully, turning to the painting in turn. “You don’t know how she talks about you, if you aren’t around. I think about it, sometimes. If you and I… Were hanging off of a precipice, and she could only save one of us— I can’t say for certain who she would pick. But if I’m honest with myself, as much as it would pain her, and how much it hurts me to think, I really do believe she would save you.”

You squeeze your eyes shut as the corners of your vision turn blurry. “I— I don’t know why I’m saying any of this.” You press your hand to the side of your head, and drag it down your cheek. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I’m feeling very well.”

“Is that really the truth?” Sunday asks.

“To me it is, I guess.” You mumble. “If you asked Robin, she would answer… That she would find a way to save both of us. No matter the cost. Because that is the kind of person she is. But I can’t seem to think that would be a reality.”

Sunday hums, then turns around you. When he nods, your nausea dissipates, you straighten your back, and whatever stupor you had found yourself in leaves your mind. All at once, shame crashes into you. What the hell have you been babbling on and on about for the past five minutes? When he looks at you now, his gaze is not quite as oppressive as before, though you are not entirely sure how to feel about him.

He lowers his head a tad, ears fluttering. “Thank you for allowing me to understand you better,” Sunday tells you. “You are a different type of person than I imagined you to be— Perhaps you and I are more similar than I believed. Due to my personal feelings, it seems I led my thoughts stray into disharmony. Will you forgive me?” Though the ice has left his tone, it is now as if he has shaved off every edge, covering it all in fabric. It is almost condescending.

But you, honestly, still kind of need to piss. And you’re over all of this, really. “I— Yeah. Yeah, sure. Spirit of harmony, and all that.”

Sunday smiles. “Well, then I believe a reintroduction is in order.” He extends his hand towards you, and you hesitate only a moment before taking it. “I suppose we are family now, too. Know that, whenever life’s troubles seem to be consuming you, Penacony will always opens its arms to you.”

[nikethestatue]

Having been in this fandom for a long time, I think what's become apparent--and I think that's where most of our problems stem from--is that PERSONAL INTERPRETATION has become the default thing to fall back onto, and consequently, it's been used over and over again to negate or disregard the author's INTENT, because it doesn't align with personal preference. Consequently, people began being duped into believing that a reader's personal interpretation of text is 'right' and that canon doesn't matter and that SJM's own intention don't matter as well.

Here are some examples:

Did SJM INTENDED for Cassian to be a terrible mate who will sell Nesta for a chicken nugget if Rhys tells him to? Was the intent to show how poor Nessian pairing is?

OR

Is it just that Cassian did not live up to the readers' own expectations of what they wanted for Nesta? And is their interpretation of Cassian as an awful match for Nesta, who doesn't care about her, only cares about sex, and would never stand up for her or support her, actually correct?

Did SJM INTENDED for Gwyn's scenes in ACOSF to be romantic towards Azriel? Was her cutting the ribbon or climbing or running a prelude to the great Gwynriel romance novel?

OR

Is it that Gwyn was created to be a springboard for Nesta's self-discovery and healing? Someone who accepted, supported and encouraged Nesta when Nesta was at her lowest? And did many readers' animosity towards Elain's characters drove them to willfully interpret absolutely non-romantic scenes as romantic in a futile hope that somehow, their personal wants would translate to page?

Did SJM intended for Rhys and Feyre to be viewed as ignorant despots who hate their own people, only care about wealth and power, and don't give a damn about anyone but themselves and their five houses?

OR

Is Rhys's love for Feyre the driving force behind many of his decisions? for example giving her an extravagant house? Does Rhys really want to trample on everyone's rights, or is he allowing some of his subjects the freedom of autonomy and self-actualization? Is the intent to show that he is a thoughtful and imperfect leader, who cares about the welfare of his people, or is that he is a dictator who gave his lover an empty title?

While SJM's execution of certain topics isn't perfect, I think that wilful ignorance and the desire to see something that isn't there, and something that SJM didn't intended at all, is really the cause of all the shipwars and the IC hate.

Is SJM REALLY in love with Lucien and is excited to write his book, or is that the fantasy of his stans? Whereas SJM's never been particularly complimentary towards Lucien and his character in interviews or in canon?

Will Tamlin's elusive 'redemption arc' REALLY be something that SJM is interested in writing? Or her calling him a 'douchebag' is kind of indicative of her feelings towards him?

"Elriels are obsessed with canon'. We heard this again and again and again. Being obsessed with canon' simply means that we are paying attention to what SJM's intentions are and what she wants to convey through her words. Elriels, just like everyone else have headcanons about Elain, and Az, and Elriel. But we don't discard the actual books and writing in favour of our headcanons.

I feel that lack of consideration towards 'intent' is really leading some people down a very slippery road, where at the end of it, they'll find a lot of crushed dreams. Because most of the time, 'black' is just....black. It's not white. It's not even opaque. It's just, black. I think people should remember that when they do their 'analysis'.

[bengiyo]

Love Sea Ep 2 Stray Thoughts

Last week, Tongrak, a successful romance author, was sent by his friends to an island to relax and work on his next novel. Unfortunately, Tongrak was a complete asshole about this, and took that out on his host, Mahasamut, who seems fully equipped to deal with a spoiled rich kid from Bangkok. Tongrak apparently needs to have sex to work through the scene he needs to write, and is also clearly interested in Mut. We left at Mut accidentally scaring Rak and trying to take care of him.

Lol, I love them opening up with voiceover reaffirming that Rak wants to fuck Mut. This is not one sided.

As charged as that was, sex on a beach is grimy!

Chapter 2: Echoes Across the Endless Blue

Oh right, Mook has to change a light bulb.

Rak is being so dramatic about a scratch.

"This isn't a bad," and, "Open your mouth," and, "Not your turn," are sending me.

Head on the beach in episode 2? Finally, adult gay representation in BL.

I'm with Mut! I would be annoyed as hell if my partner wanted to stop and immediately begin writing as things were getting good.

Man, this apartment gets used semi regularly now for the shows.

Wow, MAME is giving ass now.

Well, I'll give them points for mentioning the condoms, but docking several for using teeth.

Don't act like you ain't have a great time, Rak. I saw those expressions.

Rak is so consistently rude! He's even rude about the social politics of sex! Mut even offered to help with cleanup.

I wonder how long Vie has been crushing on Mook, because she's clearly enjoying having someone like Mook around.

They made this boy play the exposition gossip two shows in a row.

I do love the way Mut is rolling with Rak's aggressive behavior. If the rich guest is sprung and throwing money you already said he didn't need to throw at you, then by all means.

Well well well. Rak showed some consideration there about how public he's being with Mut. I like knowing that Mut is out and still carries so much respect in his community. But also, you gotta know how much you can get away with and where you can do it.

My man got locals jumping into conversations to gas him up. Respect. It's hard when tourism is a big part of your economy, because the finance class does not share.

A queer man kicked out of the home by his dad who has worked hard to build his place in his community? No choice but to stan.

Oh boy, when the writer is the executive producer and the director, they can include a romance author as a lead character to speak to their detractors.

Yes, please eat before more flies show up.

MAME characters are so interesting in that they'll go out of their way to set two people up, and then be damned sure they explain their baggage to each other.

Why would this man jump into the ocean on his own like that?

Whoa, what about this location triggered all this trauma? Seems like he has a friend who got abandoned with a pregnancy, and that connected to his mom's issues with his dad?

Are we gonna end every episode on the boat after a flash of trauma?

A romance novelist who doesn't believe in love. I am invested.

Those reveals came fast at the end, but at least we're seeing where the transactional presumptions around sexual loyalty may have come from with Rak. I like that Mut takes the money in stride, and was plain about how hard the hustle is for local businesses on this island. I'm also so relieved that we have adult, out characters discussing how public they can afford to be with their flirting. There's too much Thai BL in the bubble right now and failing at it. I'm really enjoying this.

[gwandas]

N*ssian stans acting like it’s unreasonable to expect an "I love you" in a romance novel is kinda hilarious honestly.