#another thing is that shit just goes missing from the internet :(

[topnotchquark]

I am new to motogp, but what the fuck is the deal with Uccio and the rosquez drama in 2015.

My brother in Christ are u stupid? Why don't you tell Vale to put all his stamina and mental games on f.ing Lorenze, the actual threat to the 10th? You could scheme the divorce in 2016 or sth you stupid Ipad stand!

Oh my god! An opportunity to analyse Uccio! Persona non grata and public enemy number 1 on motogpblr (btw, are there any Uccio shooters on Tumblr? My inbox is a safe space, I wanna hear your side of the story).

There is no way for me to know for a fact why Uccio ended up being the first domino to fall that led to Sepang 2015 but I did look around to see if I could find a bit more about the relationship between Vale and Uccio.

These two go all the way back to the crib, literally. Uccio mentioned in an interview that Tavullia is a small town and they were only a few months apart in age so they ended up at the only day care in the town together.

Uccio has been called a bumbling fool and a freeloader and what not (look at this post openly roasting him for being Vale's Lackey) and despite my dislike of him I won't do the same (for once lol). Vale shot to stardom at a young age doing the death sport that required him to travel extensively. What better way to feel grounded than to have your childhood friend near you at all times (the fact that Vale didn't leave Tavullia for flashier places like Monaco or wtv has been reiterated in so much writing about him, and Uccio has said the same). There is definitely an element of familiarity and comfort that both Vale and Uccio seek from each other. Uccio mentioned that they would come back from a weekend of racing, put down their suitcases and immediately get on the phone with each other, which, teenage bestie-ism is such a force lol it could power cities if harnessed.

Anyway, back to racing. The consensus is that Vale didn't have the best rivals in Biaggi and Gibernau, they were inconsistent and susceptible to mind games. Vale enjoyed the initial years of his career as an untouchable, peerless talent. And then..... the winds changed direction :)

Vale was 36 in 2015, most pro athletes are considered done and dusted at that age. He had been putting his body through years of premier class motorcycle racing. Add to that how bad the Ducati years had been and just, so much life had happened. I don't want to talk about Sic's death, but that too and while racing at that. Vale had already started working on the academy (Franky was signed in 2013 afaik). Vale had moved on from the glittering, ebullient, darling of every circuit personality. Imo choosing to be a mentor and doing that well is among the most impressive things Vale has done but when you mentally cross the rubicon to accept your youth is decidedly over, it changes things. For starters, it's a real question of whether you've already chosen to hang your boots. What I'm trying to say is, a lot was at stake in 2015 for Vale. The kind of, calm and bemused, quietly malicious as and when required public persona that Vale has honed over the years needs the solid bedrock of consistent winning to seem graceful. It wasn't just a championship at this point, it was a question of pride and cementing your legacy and being the architect of how the world perceives you when the odds have been stacked against you for a while.

Back to Uccio. He simply didn't trust or like Marc. Or anyone who was on the racetrack at the same time as Vale (he didn't even spare sweet nothings for Viñales). I have no concrete theory for said distrust short of just saying Uccio is a bit of a slimy character (this interview of Uccio when he's doing his best impersonation of henchman from an old Hollywood western). Uccio wasn't even happy when Marc made the infamous visit to the ranch in winter of 2014. Guess the whole "Marc is helping Jorge win" thing was Uccio's attempt at reminding Vale of his ruthless nature that he thought Vale was finding hard to tap into (Vale did say Marc was an updated model of him). A friend once said that a lot of time public facing figures aren't as cruel or rancid in their interpretation of the world as much as the followers of said people. So Uccio started talking shit and given the circumstances of 2015, it made an impact.

Ultimately the odds were stacked high and Vale made a mistake. I suppose Vale knows a thing or two about how pressure can make someone succumb to errors :)

So that's my take on the whole deal. Uccio, croney par excellence, used Vale's desperate title bid in 2015 to purge some of his misplaced blood lust. He made Marc his target because according to him the young ones on the grid were nothing but a nuisance. Vale fucked up and let it drive his paranoia and made a big fucking mistake.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 6 - I've Been Searching for a Fortified Defense

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: As we begin our first 5-digit word count chapter (I can’t be stopped, someone take away my keyboard) and I find a stride of about two chapters per week, I want to say that: A) I fully intend on finishing this story. I plotted out the whole thing before I started, have made a few adjustments given the pacing I’ve done so far, and with how it’s broken down right now we’ll reach the end in 2-3 months. B) Thank y���all from the bottom of my heart for reading! If you have theories or thoughts or feedback please don’t hesitate to share them! I love hearing what you think of the plot and the characters, and every interaction means the world to me. Whether you’re only reading or leaving comments as well, thank you so damn much. I’ll see you next chapter (it’s gonna be a doozy) <3

Chapter Title from Bells in Santa Fe by Halsey.

Word Count: 11.2k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: You throw a punch, and Phase One: Operation Quick and Bald goes. Not well, but it goes. Contains usual warnings.

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

Read on A03!

Chapter 5 - Chapter 7

Taglist: @lordofthunderthr @kritara

Want to be tagged? Just ask!

Ben dodged the third punch in a row, grinning widely right up until the fourth one landed on his face.

“Ha!” She yelled, drawing back to shake her first out. “Take that, you weirdly fast man.”

Ben rolled his eyes, rubbing his face lightly. It hadn’t hurt—he’d barely even felt it—but She was being real fucking smug for someone who’d only just landed a hit after a damn week of attempting to do so.

“Yeah, sure, Sunshine. Keep it the fuck up, and at this rate it’ll only take you another couple thousand years to surpass Muhammad Ali.”

She raised her brows at Ben, pausing with a tilt of her head. “You were a fan of Muhammad Ali?”

He nodded, giving her a scrunched look of annoyance. “I’m a fucking American, and there ain’t nothing more red-blooded American than punching commies like that son of a bitch did.”

“What?”

“When he fought the Russian, and won. That’s fucking American.”

“Ben, you’re thinking of the plot of Rocky IV.”

“No, Muhammad Ali fought that Russian pussy and kicked his fucking ass.”

“No, Sylvester Stallone fought the Russian pussy and kicked his fucking ass. In a movie.” She laughed to herself. “I’m shocked you even saw Rocky IV, let alone were so impacted by it to let the plot override your knowledge of a real life person.”

“Shut up,” Ben grunted, moving his hands back to a defensive stance. She fucking always won these stupid arguments, and Ben couldn’t actually prove it, but he knew She was changing the fucking internet she loved so damn much to match her claims. “Go again.”

“Someone missed nap time.” She muttered under her breath, even though she knew Ben could fucking hear her, but put her fists up anyways. “Can this be the last one? I’m hungry.”

Instead of answering, Ben just launched himself at her, and She jumped to the side with a yelp.

“What the fuck, Ben!”

He turned and threw another punch, feeling pleased at the smooth way she ducked away and met it with a punch of her own. Her face had lost the pissy shock, laser-sharp concentration replacing it. Her eyes were narrowed, darting across Ben as he moved, her bobbing and weaving wasn’t entirely shit, and her heart was controlled with her breathing. She landed her second punch, this one on his shoulder, and Ben laughed, delivering one of his own.

“Christ, Sunshine, you’re fucking weak.” He laughed, examining Her carefully for any loss of control.

“I’ll kill you with my bare hands, Bitch.” She growled, lunging forward and grunting in frustration as Ben dodged with ease.

“That’s my line.” He taunted. “And you couldn’t even kill a man with an assault rifle if he was a fucking foot away from you.”

“Blow me.”

“I’ve been fucking trying- Fuck!” She landed her third punch, and it burned. Ben reached to touch where she’d hit and felt the skin mending across his jaw.

She was grinning in a wide, toothy, satisfied way. “Suck on that, cunt.”

“Bitch,” he muttered, looking down at his hand to see it raw and red from the contact with his face, with some of his fucking hair stuck to it.

“Did you burn off my fucking beard!” His head shot up to see a half-sheepish, half-amused look on her face, lips curled and eyes wide.

“Oops.”

He yelled her name, and she had the fucking nerve to giggle. “We said no fucking powers!”

“I forgot.” She said lamely, her face less and less apologetic by the second, giggling again as she offered some of the most insincere comfort Ben had ever heard. “It’s not even that noticeable! You look just as good as before!”

His anger faded, and he gave Her a cocky smirk, raising his brows. “You think I look good, Sunshine?”

“I’m being nice. Don’t ruin it.” She muttered, her face adorably flushed, and Ben didn’t miss the skip of her heart.

“Whatever keeps you up at night.”

“That’s not the phrase.”

He winked. “I know.”

She scoffed and turned away, but not before Ben could see the slight smile on her lips. “I’m going to shower, I’ll meet you in the living room in fifteen. If you’re not there, with food, I’m eating the TV.”

Ben frowned, calling after Her figure moving down the hall. “Has the TV been edible this whole fucking time and you didn’t fucking tell me?!”

Her laughter echoed back down the hall. "You're real fucking gullible, grampa!"

“You know I can’t fucking tell when you’re joking about that shit, you bitch!”

“Fourteen minutes, cunt!”

“How the fuck am I supposed to make food in fourteen minutes?!”

“You’re a big boy, you’ll figure it out!”

Grumbling a string of cusses Ben hoped She could fucking feel, Ben grabbed a cup of instant noodles and threw them in the microwave, wondering if She would notice if he spit in hers. After pulling them out, grabbing two spoons from the counter that he almost immediately bent, spilling one of the cups as he noticed the damaged utensils, spilling the other when he noticed the first spill, and having to start the whole damned fucking thing over, Ben made his way to drop on the couch next to where She sat, wet hair clinging to her pretty face.

“Heard a lot of swearing, Pretty Boy, everything ok?”

He grunted, shoving Her noodles against her chest and letting go, not giving a fuck if she had a grip on them. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Just asking a question,” he could hear her shit-eating grin. “Thought it was a free country. Thought a patriot like you would appreciate me exercising my first amendment right.”

“That protects you from the government, not me.” Ben parroted back the words She had yelled at him after he’d made the apparently fucking fatal mistake of saying “first amendment right” in her presence.

She chuckled, her voice teasing. “Didn’t know you were capable of retaining information about something other than yourself.”

“Well, your tits were looking great while you were bitching. It helped.” He grabbed the remote, raising it to the TV. “I made food. I’m picking what we watch.”

“If you pick Game of Thrones so you can watch the sex scenes again, I’m figuring out a way to kill myself and doing it on your bed.”

“Whatever gets you in my bed, Sunshine.” He winked. “And I’m invested in the fucking plot, it’s not just the sex scenes.”

“It’s mostly the sex scenes.” She said, not even flinching at his flirtation. “Just go watch porn. See how fast you can break the fleshlights. If you do all three in ten minutes, Butcher owes me twenty dollars.”

Ben scowled, not enjoying that She’d apparently been making fucking bets with Butcher about his masturbation. “I can last longer than ten fucking minutes, I’m not a fucking pussy.”

“Prove it.”

He grinned widely at Her as her face flushed adorably, her own phrasing catching up with her head. “I’d be honored, Sunshine.”

“You’re like a fucking rabbit in heat.” She muttered. “And if you do last longer than ten, Hughie gets the money, so keep that in mind when you’re jerking it to dragon boobs after I go to bed.”

“The dragons don’t have any fucking boobs, dumbass, the fucking hot lady queens do.” Ben said smugly, ignoring her eye roll. “And I would ‘jerk it’ in the privacy of my room, but someone won’t give me a fucking phone.”

“Yeah, the CIA. I’d actually back you up with Mallory, Pretty Boy. I think giving you a phone would be really entertaining.”

“I don’t need your fucking help.” He snapped, and she laughed.

“Can’t rely on just a handsome face to convince her that you somehow deserve the internet.”

“Handsome face?” He grinned at her, and only the slight stutter of her heart told Ben she heard him.

She made a mock face of thought. “Maybe if we suggested parental controls…”

“I’ll kill you, bitch.”

“I’ll make you the most useless and sad eunuch to ever grace this sorry planet, cunt.”

Ben glared at Her, and she reached over his arm to press play on the remote.

Most of the days since the failed Sister Sage mission had been like this. She and Ben got up, trained, ate, trained more, and then watched TV with dinner until She retreated to her room and Ben fought sleep for the rest of the night, alone. Neither of them mentioned how he’d saved her, or how She had started a habit of slapping Ben awake—he was pretty fucking certain that at this point she had figured out another way to break through the nightmares but was purposely choosing to fucking hit him instead—before she’d sit next to him for an hour or two after. Ben liked this unspoken arrangement, and liked even more how She had silently agreed to it. Just because he didn’t actively hate Her right now didn’t mean he was about become a sniveling pussy mess about feelings. Even if the lack of active hatred had morphed into something pulsing in his chest that he didn’t understand, and didn't fucking want to. Making Her instant noodles and not killing her when she lied to him for fun or called him “Pretty Boy” was as far as Ben would bend.

It had been mostly radio silence from the Boys, though Butcher and Cocksucker had visited two days after they’d dropped Her and Ben back at the safe house, as Cocksucker had managed to break his arm. There had been a long, incredibly boring and poorly told story as to how the injury had occurred, involving a supe, Nikola Tesla and something called a Cybertruck, but Ben had pretty much tuned out the entire fucking conversation once he realized they weren’t here for him at all. The only thing that had kept him from retreating to his room for the duration of the visit was the small falter in Her heart when she touched Cocksucker, her jaw clenched as Ben and Butcher watched Cocksucker’s arm heal into place in a fucking disgusting manner.

When She’d let go, she’d given Ben a weird fucking look with tight lips and sad eyes that he'd only seen before on Cocksucker. It had passed quickly, her face returning to apathetic and bored, her eyes regaining the sharp amusement they usually held, but fuck it had confused him. She and Butcher had started talking about missions and planning and other mind-numbing shit, Cocksucker shaking out his arm as if he didn’t trust that it was healed, and Ben had needed to piss and gone to do just that. Before he’d left, he’d caught Her a look of where the hell are you’d going, he’d grinned back with a wink of why, you want to join me?, and she’d rolled her eyes and returned her attention to Butcher. When he’d returned, Butcher and Cocksucker had left and She was glaring at him, arms across her chest.

“Are you an idiot, or just a dick?” She’d snapped.

He’d frowned at Her, trying to figure out what had made her all fucking bitchy. As far as Ben was concerned, he’d been fucking amazing, only calling Butcher a pussy twice and managing to refrain from talking to Cocksucker at all. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Butcher told me we’re moving on operation Quick and Bald soon. He told me you knew. Why didn’t you fucking tell me?!”

“Oh,” Ben had rolled his eyes. “I forgot.”

“You forgot?”

He’d shrugged. “Well, you fucking know now, so get over it. And what kind of fucking shit codename is Quick and Bald?”

“Fuck you, it’s an accurate and descriptive name.”

“How the fuck could that be ‘accurate and descriptive’?”

“Because two key factors of this phase of my plan are the quick and the bald.”

“Your plan?”

“Yeah, my fucking plan. That I fucking deserved to know the status of.” She’d scowled. “Butcher says it’s almost ready. He’ll get us in two days once it’s in place.”

That had been five days ago. Starlight and Cocksucker had dropped in after two days, full of apologies and updates that Ben didn’t give a fuck about, and when he’d asked Her for more information about the plan, she’d told him to “suck her dick and shove his questions up his ass until they reached his brain.”

So Ben still had no fucking clue what Quick and Bald was about.

Aside from Her lingering anger at him for apparently having the fucking nerve to ask questions about the jobs he had to do—an opinion he had made the mistake of voicing, leading the unwelcome lesson on the first amendment—She was being impossibly easy to talk to, and Ben was getting dangerously close to not only enjoying her company, but finding her comfortable. Part of him was hoping she’d say something very, very soon that would allow him to grip onto hatred, or at least indifference, for the rest of his time in this stupid fucking situation.

Instead, in a way that made Ben think God himself was out to fucking get him, he’d started to tell her things. Fucking voluntarily.

One of those nights where sleep had gripped his head and pulled him under, struggling and roaring, he’d woken up once more from only the force and sting of her hand across his face. She’d sat next to him again, and he’d asked her more questions about before, all of which she’d answered with a faraway, insufferably sad look in her eyes.

“How many siblings did you fucking have again?” He’d pressed once.

“Four,” She’d responded, a wistful smile on her face. “Two brothers, two sisters. All younger.”

“Your parents had four more kids after you? What, were you that fucking annoying they needed to try again four fucking times?”

“No, I was just so adorable they needed to try and recreate my perfection. Once they realized that was impossible, they gave up.” She’d smirked, and Ben hated that somehow he didn’t doubt her words. “Well,” she’d mused to herself. “That and they fell violently out of love with each other.”

“Violently?” He’d made a face, and she’d nodded solemnly.

“I shielded my siblings from a lot of flying plates.”

Ben found another thing to hate. Her parents, and how fucking sad she looked. “You miss them?”

“My parents?” She’d snorted. “I miss my dad. I hope my mom gets her head popped.”

He’d coughed to cover a laugh. “No, you fucking smartass. Your siblings.”

Her answer was quick and soft. “Every fucking day.”

Ben had grunted, watching the distance return to her face, and before he could stop himself, he was talking. “I didn’t have any siblings.”

Before he could curse himself out and try to distract Her with something else, she had been looking back at him with wide, focused eyes. “Do you wish you did?”

“I never thought about it,” he’d muttered. “My father was such a fucking dick I’m surprised he even got my mother to marry him, let alone fucking have one kid. I think he hated me enough to never fucking risk it again.”

“Risk it?” She’d kept her voice impossibly gentle as she’d asked, and it made his skin crawl all weird.

“I was the biggest fucking regret of his life. If he could go back and stop me from happening in the first place, make my mother flush me out, he wouldn’t have fucking hesitated.”

She’d paused, and a very fucking stupid part of Ben had thought she was going to let the conversation go. Of course, he should’ve fucking known by now that She damn well wouldn’t.

“What was your mom like?”

He hadn’t fucking expected that, and it had shocked him enough to answer. “Kind. Too kind for my father, he saw it as fucking weakness and told her all the fucking time. But she was so fucking kind.” He took a heavy breath. “She was full of love, and I have no fucking clue how. It was fucking stupid, all her love, even for my piece of shit father. He’d yell at her and threaten her and mock her, but she still fucking loved him. She fucking loved everything.”

Her voice was still gentle from beside him. “Like what?”

“Animals. Cats specifically. My father had all these fucking hunting dogs he loved more than anything, certainly more than me, and the only good thing he ever fucking did was trade one to get her a cat. It was massive, fluffy and gray, and it was a fucking asshole to everyone but her. It ate like a fucking elephant, shed like a whore in summer, but she loved it so fucking much.” At this point Ben had really wished he would shut the fuck up, but he couldn’t, and he was going to have to figure out a way to blame Her for that later. “She loved art. Painting. She tried to get me to love it too, even though I could barely draw a fucking worm. But I’d try, and she’d frame all my stupid, shitty drawings and hang them around the house until my father saw them and threw them in the trash. She loved music but couldn’t carry a tune if her life fucking depended on it. They’d go to the opera because my father would donate a ton for the publicity, and she’d come back all damn giddy. I’d wait up, just because she was fucking contagious when she was that happy. Even my father felt it, enough to just go straight to bed and not kick my ass for still being awake. She was fucking smart, too. Real fucking smart. My father would joke he wished she was a man, because then her brain would be useful. She would’ve fucking jumped for joy if she saw the world now. Met a fucking woman doctor.” He paused, looking back down at Her beside him. She hadn’t looked away from him, and there was none of the pity he’d expected to see on her face. It was just open, listening intently to his words with no malice or trickery behind her eyes.

“She sounds amazing.” She’d said softly, a small smile he didn’t understand on her face. “And your dad sounds like a fucking cunt.”

Ben had chuckled in surprise. “Fucking understatement of the damn year, Sunshine. That pussy would’ve tried to pry your degree from your fucking hands.”

“Let him try, I’d burn his fucking face off and laugh while I did it.”

“What were you even going to fucking do with a PhD in archeology?" He’d asked, and she’d huffed a small laugh.

“Anthropology, Pretty Boy. But nice guess.” She corrected. “And I’m honestly not sure. I’d quite literarily only just actually received the degree before everything… changed.” She’d sighed. “I had a few job offers, but mostly in academia and business. What I wanted was to work with nonprofits to help people.”

“Help people?” He’d given her a disbelieving stare. “With a prissy fucking degree?”

“Yeah, dickwad. Help people. I was a cultural anthropologist. I specialized in the evolution of cultures and ways to combat systemic cultural oppression.”

He’d stared at Her blankly. “You’re going to have to take down the fucking fancy talk by seven, Sunshine.”

“I studied how the government and culture is mean to people on purpose, and how to make them stop being mean.” She’d said flatly.

“Oh.” He’d rolled his eyes at the dirty look she was giving him. “Oh, fuck off. It wasn’t that painful to say.”

“Yes, it was.” She’d mumbled, narrowing her eyes at him. “You’re not going to argue with me?”

“What’s there to fucking argue about?”

“I just called your beloved country an ‘oppressive system’.” She’d watched him wearily, but her heart remained steady. “Doesn’t it mar your refined American nationalism?”

“Do you fucking want me to be mad?” Ben had asked, raising his brows at her. “I can definitely find it in me, that’s not a fucking issue. But usually when we fight about this shit, you get all bitchy and don’t talk to me for way too fucking long.”

“I mean, no, I don’t want you to get mad…” She’d frowned, examining him with yet another fucking confusing look. “Does it really bother you when I ignore you?”

“No.” He’d snapped quickly. “It’s just annoying, and I don’t like having to fucking deal with it.”

She’d hummed with an amused smile on her face, and the conversation had moved on to something else. Ben had shoved down the way it had been so easy to talk about his mother with her, until it was somewhere in his gut and he didn’t have to think about the way the feeling rolled around inside him.

And he refused to even acknowledge how when She would smile now, he’d have to fight himself to not do the same.

———-

It had been a week since the Sage incident, a week since Ben had saved your life—you'd locked everything about that particular action from what you thought of it to how it made you feel somewhere deep in your chest—and you were starting to lose your mind a little bit. When Annie and Hughie had stopped by with nervous words about delays in your meticulously prepared and incredibly well-detailed plan, you’d been willing to wait another day, maybe two, before executing operation Quick and Bald. Now it had been three days, burgeoning on four, and you were worryingly close to leaving the safe house just to yell at Butcher. Ben could stay here, or follow you and help you beat Butcher up for all you cared. Which was, admittedly, worrying within itself. Especially because the whole point of operation Quick and Bald was to take preventative measures against Ben’s needless brutality.

Over a month ago, right after you’d moved into the safe house and when you had been ready to throttle Ben’s neck every waking moment—an urge that hadn’t entirely waned, but was now undercut with a weirder, stronger urge to be near him without any murderous intent—you’d spent the hours quarantined in your room perfecting your plan to get Ryan Butcher the fuck out of dodge. When they’d come to pick you and Ben up for the whole Neuman test, you’d left it in the van for Butcher to find, and had been waiting since for him to set up the dominoes so you could knock them over.

At this point, you’d be happy with not even “dominos to knock over” and just “one singular domino to throw at someone." You had begun to develop a habit of staring down the hall from the living room, trying to will someone to appear with at least a fucking update. So far this strategy was not working, and had apparently started to garner attention.

Sitting on the couch, the TV white noise in the background and noodles in your hand cold and forgotten, you felt a foreign rush of oddly tight concern run through your body. You frowned, heard your name from next to you, and turned to find that Ben had been poking your arm.

“Are you fucking alive?” He grunted, watching you with a frown.

“Literally? Yes.” You answered with a tight smile. “You have noodles on your face.”

He reached up to feel for them, not looking away from you. “What the fuck do you mean literally? How can you be fucking metaphorically alive?”

“Mind-body problem, Pretty Boy. And it’s not metaphorically, it’s philosophically.” You lean back, grinning.

“You’re a real fucking pretentious bitch sometimes.” He grumbled, still trying to find the food stuck to his beard.

“If you made me a shirt that said that, I’d wear it.”

“I’m not going to fucking make you a shirt, Sunshine. You couldn’t make me learn to fucking sow with a gun to my head.”

“Because the gun wouldn’t affect you at all?” You pointed to your own chin, mirroring where the noodle was caught.

He sneered. “Because I’m not a pussy.” His hand found the stray piece of his dinner, and he pulled it from his jaw.

“Big words from the man who took two tries to make me instant ramen- hey!” A wet noodle hits you in the face.

“Ramen your ungrateful ass didn’t even fucking eat.” Ben gave a pointed look at the abandoned cup in your hands, the food inside having long lost any heat. “Don’t fucking test me, or I’ll actually spit in your food next time.”

“Drama queen,” you muttered, peeking back at the door. “Like you don’t already do that.”

“I fight the urge to be a fucking bitch, unlike certain women.”

You nod absentmindedly. “Butcher.”

Ben snorted behind you, and a smile you hoped he didn’t see crept onto your face.

“Yeah, sure Sunshine.” His attention returned to the TV, and you did your best to not stare down the hall, trying to ignore the hope that the door now shrouded in darkness would open.

A successful effort that made you jump out of your seat when it did just that with an aggressive bang.

Ben was faster than you, practically launching himself over the sofa and bolting down the hall, a dangerous look of alarm the last thing you saw on his face before he was gone from the room.

“Shit, no! It’s me!” You heard a high-pitched shout from the shadows of the entrance. “It’s Hughie!”

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” You heard Ben’s growl of a response.

Butcher’s voice drawled from the shadows. “Oi, take a deep fucking breath and put the bloody kid down.” 

“Someone fucking answer me first.”

“Put him down, Soldier Boy, before we knock your ancient ass the fuck out.” The impatient, clipped words of MM responded, almost drowned out by Frenchie's shout.

“Can someone turn on the fucking lights? It is as dark as Monsieur Butcher’s heart and asshole!” 

“I- I don’t feel good.” Hughie’s voice stuttered.

“Ben!” You flicked on the hallway sconces, illuminating a scene of Ben’s full body weight pressing Hughie to the wall, Butcher and MM trying with practically negative success to pry him off, and Kimiko gripping one of Frenchie’s arms as his other groped around for direction. You let out a very long, very loud sigh. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“It’s fucking late,” he snapped, not letting Hughie go. “They shouldn’t be here so fucking late.”

“This ain’t your real house, Mate.” Butcher grunted, still trying to move Ben. “We can be here whenever we bloody well please.”

Hughie wheezed out your name in a pleading tone. “Your plan is ready. We’re here to- fuck- we’re here to get you.”

That got you moving, crossing to the end of the hall in quick, frantic steps. “It’s ready? Are you sure?” Hughie gave a weak nod, and you rolled your eyes, shoving Ben shoulder. “Put him down, dumbass. He’s not a threat, and honestly, probably the worst one to have gone after. Just, like, strategically.”

Ben glared at you, but let go. He glanced at where MM and Butcher were still grabbing him, and gave them a venomous look that got them both to let go and take hasty steps back. He shot a glowering look of they could’ve fucking waited until the morning in your direction.

You wrinkled your nose at him. No. Shut the fuck up. You turned to Hughie, not even bothering to hide the desperation you felt in your imploring stare. “It’s all ready? All of it? A-Train agreed to help? We’re sure Ashley has the information? We’re sure neither one is going to tell Homelander, and we’re not about to walk into a fucking trap?”

“Yes, yes, yes, kind of, and yes.” Butcher counted off on his fingers as he answered. “But we’ve got to go right fucking now.”

“Kind of?” Anxious energy rushed through you—that still-strange feeling lighting under your skin—and you ignored the weird look Ben shot you as it did. “What do you mean, kind of? If you fucked this up, Butcher, I swear to God-"

“Calm the fuck down, Love.” Butcher snapped. “It’s going to be fine, we’ll explain on the way. But we need to go fucking now if you want this to work.”

You gave a sharp nod, starting to pull on your boot, glancing up with a pause when you heard Hughie say your name behind you.

“Do you, uh, do you want to get dressed first?” His voice was still slightly weak as he recovered from Ben’s force.

You glanced down at your body, and decided that the oversized shirt and cloth shorts would be fine. They were from the CIA spring fire-proof collection, and that was more than enough. “Nope. Let’s fucking move.”

You were halfway to the door when a crash sounded behind you, and you whirled around to see MM firmly blocking Ben’s path, the crash seeming to have been Hughie stumbling into the wall in an attempt to get away from the standoff.

“You’re not coming, Soldier Boy. This is a goddamn delicate operation, and you’re the fucking reason we have to do it in the first place. We can’t afford you throwing a tantrum and screwing us.”

“I’m fucking coming, and it’s not up for fucking debate.”

Off to the side, Frenchie snickered as Kimiko signed how many times do you think he’s said that before?

Ben shot them an annoyed look, his fists clenching. “What’s so fucking funny?”

“Nothing,” Frenchie snickered, and his tone was so remarkably unconvincing that even if you hadn’t understood Kimiko, you wouldn’t have believed him.

Ben grunted and tried to move past MM, again to no avail.

He glared down at the firmly planted man, a familiar violent glint in his eyes. “You better fucking move now, before I make you.”

“Do your fucking worst, we’ll put you right back in the box. You’re not coming with us.”

“MM,” you said firmly, watching Ben's fists clench as the dangerous glint returns to his eyes. “We need to go.”

MM looks back at you, but remains in his place. “Are you fucking serious? You’re siding with him?”

“I’m not siding with him.” You keep your voice level, ignoring Ben’s smug face and grin. “We can’t leave him. The I go where he goes thing unfortunately goes both ways.”

“The safe house will hold him for five hours.” MM pushed, and before you could even shake your head, Ben cut in.=

"No, it won’t.”

You shoot him a look that says you’re being unhelpful, and he just returns it with his own of fuck off, you know you fucking want me there.

“Please, MM. He’ll stay quiet in the background, or I’ll burn his dick off. Right?” You direct your last words at Ben, giving him a pointed agree with me or I’m knocking you out and leaving you here look.

“Yeah, whatever. But I’m not staying in the fucking van like a pussy. And you’d better explain what the fuck is happening on the way, Sunshine.”

“Deal. But first they,” You narrowed your eyes at Butcher. “Have some explaining of their own to do.”

“Don’t lose your bloody mind, Love, it’s all in order.” Butcher said breezily, shoving past you to open the door. He gave a dramatic wave of his arm for you to exit, and with a look of doubt, you did.

The car ride was already poised to be uncomfortable. Butcher’s car was not equipped for seven people, let alone seven people where three were very large men, three were supes, and nobody wanted to have physical contact with two. As such, Butcher drove, MM sat in the front, you found yourself squished against one window with Ben between you and a remarkably uncomfortable Hughie, as Kimiko sat, slightly elevated onto their laps, between Frenchie at the other window, and Hughie. It was overall an unideal situation, made worse as your own frustration was amplified by Ben’s, and by Hughie revealing that it was, in fact, not all in order.

Your phase one, the original operation Quick and Bald had called for Ashley Barrett’s complete cooperation. You’d even painstakingly outlined all the potential ways to flip her—most involving something along the lines of hey, wouldn’t a job that didn’t make you so stressed you rip out all your hair and have to buy a bunch of wigs be nice?—and different ways to keep Homelander from finding out about her betrayal—Spain was lovely this time of year, and had a thriving BDSM community Ashley would love. While MM had managed to take care of your instructions for A-Train, the half of the plan you’d incorrectly anticipated to be more difficult, the Ashley situation was, in Butcher’s words, very fucking delicate, but we’ve adapted and everything will be bloody fine, so trust me and don’t be a fucking cunt about it.

You did not trust him. I didn’t help that you’d asked for any other possible details, and he’d pretended he couldn’t hear you. This suspicion was confirmed when, despite your incredible clarity that you would never step foot there again, Butcher seemed to be driving right to Vought Tower.

Your eyes had been steadily widening, panic starting to run through you the closer and closer you got, and you flinched when you felt Ben’s roughly shoulder nudge your own.

“What’s fucking wrong with you?” He’d asked in a low voice, barely audible over Hughie’s rambling explanation.

“You should listen,” you mutter back, trying to shut out the confusing concern he always seemed to feel at you, how it felt remarkably genuine, but was laced with anger that felt like it was trying to push out of your body. “Hughie’s explaining the plan.”

“Yeah, but all I have to fucking do is stay quiet, and I get to keep my dick. You’re being fucking twitchy and silent, and your heart is beating faster than it has all damn day, so don’t even try to fucking lie and tell me it’s fine.”

“It is fine, I’m fine-“ You paused as his words sank in. “Wait, what do you mean my heart-“

“Alright, here we go.” Butcher cut off both you and Hughie with a clap of his hands. “Everyone bloody out, let’s get this shitshow on the road.”

“Butcher,” you said, looking around to see you’d parked directly across from the tower entrance. “What the fuck are we doing here?”

“We’re meeting them right there.” MM answered for Butcher, pointing out of his window to something you couldn’t see. “It’s almost midnight, and Annie’s been making sure nobody gets inside but us.”

“But why?” You protest, even as MM leaves the car. “This,” you give a wide, general wave that hits Ben in the nose. “Cannot be the only option.”

“Both of them still have their trackers,” Hughie leans forward with an apologetic look as Frenchie and Kimiko exit the car. “This will look like they’re just getting a midnight snack, and hopefully Homelander won’t get suspicious.”

“Hopefully?!” You feel a rush of anger—not yours—and a twist of fear deep within your gut—absolutely yours. “Hopefully fucking Homelander won’t get suspicious?!”

Hughie gave an uncertain nod before very quickly scrambling to get out of the car. You take a long, deep breath, trying to steel yourself. A rush of what was becoming a familiar fuming and brittle concern ran through you. You look at Ben, to find his eyes locked firmly onto yours.

“Sorry about hitting-“

“I know how to hot-wire a car.”

You blink at him, taken aback by the firmness of his voice. “What?”

His hand moved to grip your thigh, his gaze not wavering. “I know how to hot-wire a car.”

You give him a flat look. “Yeah, I heard you the first time. Why are you telling me that?”

His frustration leaked into you. “Because say the word, I’ll steal Butcher’s car, and we’ll fucking leave.”

“What? Are you insane?”

“You look like you’re either going to start fucking crying or burst into flames, and this is a stupid fucking idea.”

“This was my plan.” You snap. “And I’m not stealing Butcher’s car. Why do you even know how to hot-wire a car anyway?”

Ben’s grip tightened. “No, your plan was stupidly well fucking thought out.”

“That’s an oxymoron.” You mutter, and he ignores you.

“And even if they haven’t completely fucking blown the execution, they completely squashed any chance of safety.”

“It’ll be fine,” you say, the words sounding fake even as you say them. “It’s late. He’s probably asleep.”

“What if he’s not?” His concern was starting to move to your throat, and there was something else, something sitting far deeper in your chest, beating and beating against you. Against you.

“Ben.” You place your hand over his. “I’ve worked too hard on this. This is the only way, and it will be fine.” You say the last words firmly and clearly, trying to make them sink into you. “Now take your fucking hand off of me, and get out of the damn car.”

He pulls himself from you, and even as his touch leaves, the concern and beat linger until he’s gone from the car. You drag yourself across the seats and ignore Hughie’s offer of a hand as you duck out of the car and onto the curb. You notice the 24 hour diner MM must have been pointing out almost immediately, half because—aside from an incredibly sketchy looking deli a few doors down—it’s the only building with its lights still on, and half because two very flustered teenagers are sulking away from the entrance, where Annie stands with her arms crossed. She’s already spotted your group, and has angeled her head in a signal to join her.

“You’re late.” She chides as you approach.

“Well, Starlight, I’d apologize, but it was those two fuckheads,” Ben and MM both receive a jabbed thumb over Butcher’s shoulder. “Who decided to draw out the bloody carpool process.”

“I told you not to call me Starlight anymore, Butcher.” Annie snaps, not giving him a chance to respond before she turns to you. “A-Train is, somehow, running behind as well. Hopefully Ashley’s just being resistant to getting food with him, but they’ll be here.”

“Isn’t running that pussy’s whole fucking thing?” Ben muttered, quiet enough for only you to hear. You step as hard as you can on his foot.

“Shut it, Pretty Boy.” You whisper over his grunt of what probably is more emotional pain than physical.

“Bitch.” He hisses back.

“Cunt.” You raise your voice so the others can hear you. “We should go inside, it’s risky to just… stand here.”

With nervous looks around and stuttered agreements, you all make your way into the diner. The lights are flickering, and it’s eerily empty with only a very nervous-looking blonde waitress at the counter. She makes a very big show of asking how many are in your party, leading you to a large, round table, and laying out the menus with shaky hands. Kimiko, Hughie, Annie, and MM try and offer her comforting smiles, though MM’s is strained as he keeps a vigilant glare on Ben. The waitress is staring at Ben herself, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, glacing back as she leaves to get your and Butcher’s coffee, Annie and MM’s tea, Kimiko and Hughie’s milkshakes, and Ben and Frenchie’s orders of “the strongest alcohol you’ve fucking got.” Your personal bet was it was going to just be very old beer.

“Why is she fucking staring at me?” Ben muttered to you, watching the waitress as she walked away. “Did you fuck up my beard that bad?”

“Your beard looks literally the same.” You dismiss. “And it’s because, as far as the public knows, Maeve killed you in a heroic act of self-sacrifice to stop your evil, anti-American attacks. That, or she wants to fuck you.”

“Hm,” he looks back at you, settling down into his seat. “Am I allowed to bring guests into the safe house?”

“No.” You say, a little more curtly than you intended. Seeing his wide, cocky grin, you clairfy. “It’s a breach of security. She would need to pass a CIA vetting and be approved by, like, twenty people. I don’t think she’d do that just to fuck you.”

Ben shrugs, his smirk only growing. “You did.”

“I’m going to cut off your balls and feed them to you-“

“Hey,” MM cuts you off, saying your name in a brisk, hard tone from across the table. “They’re here.”

You snap your head to the door, where A-Train is practically pushing Ashley into the diner.

You hear her voice clearly over the recession pop humming from the speakers. “Why can’t we just go to the fucking deli? They make these amazing meatball subs and supes eat free, so you could order for both of us- oh fuck no.”

“Oh, shit.” MM mutters, jumping to his feet with Butcher and Annie as Ashley notices them, and promptly tries to dash for the exit.

You don’t entirely blame her. You’d probably do the same. You had done the same, an unhelpful voice reminds you.

“I- Am- Not-“ Ashley is trying to get past A-Train, who hasn’t given up trying to herd her further into the diner. “Fuck- this-“

“Ashley, just listen to them, I fucking swear-“

“Why should I trust you?!” Ashley doubles over, out of breath. “You fucking tricked me! Midnight snack my fucking ass- Fuck no!” She raises a crooked finger at Annie, who has stopped in front of her. “Get the fuck away from me, you bitch.”

“Ashley, please listen to A-Train-“

“No! Just leave me the fuck alone! I don’t want to be a part of your weird fucking eye for an eye justice shit-“

“You kind of already are.” MM says as he locks the door behind her. “You work for Vought, your it’s motherfucking CEO. That makes you a part of this, like it or not.”

“Not!” Ashley shouts. “I don’t care what you have to say! Homelander’s going to fucking kill me, oh my god.” She starts to hyperventilate. “If he finds out I was here, he’ll kill you-“ She points a shaky finger at A-Train. “And then make me go on fucking TV to explain why you’re missing, and then fucking kill me-“

Butcher scoffs. “Bloody hell, lady. Calm the fuck down, Homelander ain’t gonna find out.”

“You don’t know that!” She shrieked. “He knows fucking everything! Especially since fucking Sage joined!” She spins around frantically, and her wild eyes lock onto yours. “He knows about them!” A shaking finger jumps between you and Ben. “Fuck! He’s supposed to be fucking asleep and now he’s fucking not! And he was so fucking angry about her, I’ve never seen him so fucking angry-“

Whatever else Ashley stutters about Homelander’s anger is lost to you as the world freezes. The feeling isn’t just under your skin, it’s up your spine, in your blood, circling around your brain. It’s fucking everywhere and you can’t fucking breathe, her words looping around you.

He knows. He’s angry. He fucking knows. He’s fucking angry. He fucking knows and he’s fucking angry and he fucking knows and he’s fucking angry and-

A white hot, impossibly calm feeling crashes over you. It’s angry, hungry and angry, but it’s grounding, sharpening everything around you. Suddenly the world is back in complete focus, Ashley’s shrill rambling scraping at your ears, and in the distance that weird fucking rhythm is sounding. As the feeling in your body returns fully, you realize Ben’s hand is back on your thigh. You bounce it, looking up to give him a glare, and find he’s not even looking at you. Instead, his eyes are trained on Ashley, narrowed and cold. You give a small cough, and when he glances down at you, the feeling of anger stutters with something lighter, though only for a second.

You give another bounce of your leg, a look of move your damn hand or lose it taking over your face.

No, not until you calm the fuck down his scowl responds.

You huff, standing abruptly, and his hand falls off at the force of your movement. Suddenly you feel a lot less solid, but reason that your legs are shaky from the Homelander of it all, and if any situation calls for fractured nerves, it’s this one.

“Ashley.” You call across the diner, trying not to stutter or chew off your lip as her protests falters and attention turns to you. “If you know who I am, you know I wouldn’t be anywhere near here if we weren’t certain it was safe. Just have some food with us, listen, and then you can go.”

Ashley gives you a scowl that might surpass Ben’s but nods tightly, yanking her arm from where A-Train had been trying to hold her in place. You sit back down as the group at the door returns to their seats, the poor waitress pressing herself against the bar as they pass. Letting out a shaky, unsteady breath, you try and still yourself as you look out the diner window. City lights. Music.

City lights.

Music.

It was safe. He knows and he’s angry but was safe and there were city lights and music.

Your breathing was no longer coming in short, distressed bursts, but getting air in and out of yourself still felt like an act of labor, and you needed to get it the fuck together before Ashley sat down.

City lights. Music.

You can’t hear the song the diner is playing, instead letting your whole mind turn inward, allowing the ghost of music you can no longer sing to wash over you.

Ashley sits across from you right when you regain control, and from the corner of your eye, you see Ben pulling his hand from where it had been inching towards yours.

Her eyes flit, nerves poorly hidden, from you to Ben to Butcher to Annie and back to you, and her voice is high and shaky when she speaks. “Well?”

“Ashley, we need your help.” Annie leans forward, palms flat on the table.

“Well, then we’re done. I can’t help you. They don’t tell me anything, not really.” Ashley tries to stand, but her arm is caught by A-Train. “Really?” A-Train hisses as he pulls her back into her seat beside him. “They don’t tell you anything my ass, we sit in on all the same meetings. And I pulled these files-“ He pulls out a thumb drive from absolutely nowhere and drops it on the table. “Using your name, so you clearly have access to them.”

“What?!” Ashley looks at the thumb drive like it’s going to either explode or start jizzing on her blouse. “Why would you fucking do that?”

“Insurance.” A-Train answers smugly, the thumbdrive clearly having his intended. “I can’t open it, so you’re going to tell them how, and then I’ll erase the records of you taking the files from the system.”

Ashley looks around at your group, shaking her head. “No.”

“Sorry, Mate. We ain’t really asking.” Butcher leans across A-Train, shoving the thumb drive closer to Ashley. “Do us this solid, and A-Train won’t go right up to Homelander and tell him about how he saw you also cuddly and tight with me, Soldier Boy, and his favorite missing person.”

Your heart jumps right into your throat. City lights. Music.

Suddenly, Ben’s elbow is planted against yours, and you’re pulled back down to earth just in time to hear Ashley yell, “This is fucking blackmail! I’ll fucking sue!”

“You cannot sue government officials, madame.” Frenchie says smugly, and Hughie shakes his head.

“That’s- Frenchie, that’s not even kind of true.”

“You’re also not a government official.” Annie adds.

Frenchie looks genuinely perplexed at this and gives Kimiko a confused frown, receiving a shrug in return.

“But,” you pipe up, your voice somehow bored and casual. “I’m legally dead. He’s-“ You jab Ben in the chest, and Ashley’s eyes widen. “Legally dead and an enemy of the state. You can’t sue either of us, not without admitting some Vought secrets that will be very bad PR.” You give her a twisted smile, leering across the table. “Help us, or, even if Homelander believes you, which we both know he won’t, you’ll get fired. And I’m sure they’ll be very understanding and normal about how they do it.”

You feel a flash of weird pride and realize you can see Ben fighting a smile in your periphery.

Ashley has a fearful expression, looking at where your elbow is still connected with Ben’s. “What- what's even on it?”

“Becca Butcher files.” You say, not taking your gaze from her, but you didn’t need to look around to see the sudden, rigidness with which everyone sat. You even felt Ben’s own shock run through you.

You’d be lying if you said hiding the exact contents of the file hadn’t been a very purposeful choice that you and Butcher had made. He’d cornered you, demanding to know what you planned on doing should Soldier Boy go after Ryan, and you’d told him that it wouldn’t be an issue. Ryan looked up to Homelander, that was why he stayed. He’d lost his mother, he didn’t trust Butcher, all the poor kid had was his insane, sociopathic father. Some part of you—small and sad and tired, still sitting on a staircase in Boston—understood that. But with Becca gone, gone forever, Ryan didn’t have a place to run like you’d had. Homelander was the default, and just kind enough to his son that Ryan could force himself to forgive Homelander again and again. Homelander was safe for Ryan.

You were going to make sure Ryan never saw Homelander as safe again. And that started with Becca Butcher and would end with you. So you and Butcher had agreed with a tight handshaked that he'd ripped his hand from right after, everyone was only going to know what they needed to. That was the only way it would work.

“Becca Butcher files?” MM repeats in a slow, incredulous tone. “You,” he turns with a look of shock to Butcher. “You knew about this? You’re fuckin okay with this?”

“I’m doing what has to be done, Mate.” Butcher answers flatly, then says your name. “Tell ‘em the plan, Love.”

“We need to get Ryan away from Homelander. Ryan needs to know about his mother.”

“No,” Ashley was emerging from the shock to try and stand from the table, but A-Train’s arm shot out, pulling her back down once more. “No,” she says again, looking around desperately. “Ryan, Ryan is all he has. All he cares about. You take Ryan he’ll lose his mind-“

“He’s already lost his mind.” Something snaps in your chest—a cruel feeling waking up as you watch Ashley fret about Homelander. “And I couldn’t give less fucks about what he cares about.” The feeling is crawling across your skin. “If this hurts him, good. It could never hurt him enough to make it right.” You hear drums and still can’t place where they’re coming from. “Now listen to the last fucking strand of your morality on your scalp and fucking help us.”

Ashley shakes her head again, this time with less certainty. “It’s- no- He-“ she pulls in a deep, unsteady breath. “He won’t stop until he gets Ryan back. He already is going insane about you and him and how he needs to get you back safe and put him back down, and if Ryan goes to then nothing will stop him-“

The drums are loud now, and something that’s usually there on Ben’s face is missing. Your own body doesn’t feel entirely normal anymore, but it’s not paralyzed or running. You can feel something in Ben caving, falling inward in a growing rhythm, moving in time as something in you grows. It's not in you now, it’s across you, coating your skin and singing with glee.

“Ashley,” the sound of your voice is a little far away, but you can hear it echo through you. It’s wired, hot, a warning.

“I- I can’t.”

“Yes, you fucking can.” You sneer. “You’re just too much of a pussy to do it.” Ben coughs in the way that you know means he wants to laugh, just as the drums stutter and move farther away.

“Please, I don’t-“

“Do not make me stab you.”

Ashley falters, looking you up and down. “You won’t.”

“Trust me, she will.” Ben smirks, giving you a nudge. “She’s surprisingly violent.”

“I, I won’t. I can’t. He’ll kill me-“

“You think we won’t?” Ben growls, any amusement in him gone as you feel something unbreakable and resolved through your body.

Ashley tries to run again, this time actually managing to get up from the table, but is knocked flat on her ass by A-Train before she can take two steps. You stand and give the itch, now under your tongue and your nails, a small scratch.

“Oh, fuck no.” You hear scrambling as you walk around the table and stop, staring down at Ashley.

She’s crawling back from you, back from the fire curling from your whole body, and disgust curls in your gut. For the first time you feel anger—insatiable and gory anger—all of your own. No city lights flash around you, no hollow music dances around your head. You don’t fear Ashley. She’s weak and spineless. She’s willing to cover her hands in Ryan’s blood, in your blood, to keep herself safe from Homelander. She’s staring at you, terrified, and you don’t need to touch her to know it isn’t even a fraction of all the fear you felt in that white room. That white room she knows about, may have seen, and is still trying to keep Homelander happy.

You bend down, letting all your hatred for Vought, for her, cover your features. When you speak, your words are clear and low.

“You are going to tell Butcher how to access the thumbdrive. A-Train and you are going to take some food with you, and walk back to the tower. You aren’t going to tell Homelander about this, and if he asks, offer him some leftovers. A-Train will erase your activity from the files, and you’re going to pretend the whole night never happened. If you tell Homelander about either me or Be-“ You correct yourself smoothly. “Soldier Boy, the last thing I will do before he locks me away again is kill you. Do I make myself clear?”

Ashley nods frantically, flinching when you raise your hand.

“Say it. Say that I made myself clear.”

“You-“ Ashley stutters, hiccuping. “You made yourself clear.”

You draw yourself back up. “Good. Butcher, I’m leaving. You can drive me and come back, or Ben can steal your car, but I’m leaving.”

When you turn, when you see the looks on your team’s face, all the anger is gone, and suddenly there is a crushing, painful weight of shame on your chest. They’re looking at you like Ashley had been, like you’re no better than Homelander. Like maybe you should go back in the room, it would be safer for them, it would be safer for everyone if you were far, far away-

“You heard the lady.” Ben is standing, walking around to your side. “It’s late. We’re leaving. Sunshine?” He offers you his arm, and you stare between it and your own, still covered in flame. Looking up, his face looks bored, as if this is just another Tuesday, and he offers his arm to women who are actively ablaze on a regular basis.

Your face feels slack, and all you can manage is to blink at him. I’ll burn you, Pretty Boy. It’ll hurt.

His brows subtly knit, and he doesn’t move. I’ll live, Sunshine. Don’t let them see you break. We’re going home.

You look back at your team, a wide circle of berth having formed around you and Ben. Butcher is looking between the two of you, and you recognize that glint in his eyes. You’d seen it before, but it’s only been really, truly directed at you once. In a graveyard in Boston, gravestones and bushes around you burning in the dead of winter, holding a bucket of ice that steamed off your skin. Under it, fear begins to creep back into you, exhaustion pushing it forward. Butcher reaches behind him, and your knees feel weak.

But you don’t fall. Zealous anger, strong and raw, spreads through you and Butcher’s movements still. You look down and find Ben’s arm unflinchingly looped through yours, his body at its full height as his eyes rake coldly over Butcher.

The silence hangs in the air, cut through only by Ashley’s quick, sobbed breaths. For a second you think the smoke seeping from you will overtake the room before anyone moves, but Butcher slowly reaches into his pockets, eyes not leaving Ben’s, and throws the keys at Hughie.

“Drop them off, Mate, then come right back. No bloody detours.”

Hughie stares at the keys, looking like he’s going to protest, but Kimiko grabs them before he can.

She turns to you, completely composed, no fear wavering as she locks your eyes with hers. I’ll take you.

Before you can thank her, Frenchie steps forward, signing as he speaks. “Mon Coeur, you cannot drive.”

She frowns. Yes I can.

“No, Mon Coeur, not legally.” Frenchie says, exasperated, and you have a feeling this is not first time they've had this debate.

Kimiko rolls her eyes at you. Fine. She signs back at Frenchie, throwing the keys at him. You’ll do it.

Frenchie stumbles as he catches them, giving Kimiko a shocked look, which she pretends not to see as she walks to the door, signing at you as she passes.

Let’s go before Butcher’s brain starts working.

A small smile threatens your face, and you move, tugging Ben’s arm only once before he falls into pace with you, Frenchie scrambling behind you both.

The car ride back feels longer. The moment you’d stepped out of the diner, your body had extinguished, and you had a worrying sense that the only thing keeping you from collapsing on the sidewalk was Ben’s arm firm through yours. No words were said for the entirety of the drive, you and Ben in the backseat as Frenchie drove and Kimiko lounged in shotgun, and your brain raced. Ben hadn’t let go, and the drums were fading in and out of your chest as he stared ahead into the night.

You arrived at the safe house, only a street lamp casting a dull glow across the street. The chill of the wind cutting against you as Kimiko walked you to the door, Frenchie mumbling something about keeping the car safe from Hooligans. Ben made to step inside, but halted, still not releasing your arm, as you stayed at the doorstep.

At his questioning glare, you tried to wiggle his arm from yours. “Go inside, Ben. I’ll be right there.”

He looked down at where he was still connected with you, and you felt reluctance in time with the drums, but he let go with a scowl. “Be fast,” he grunted, and stomped into the house.

You watched until he’d disappeared fully down the hall, turning to Kimiko only once his back was shrouded in the darkness of the house.

“Thank you,” you give her a soft smile, signing as you speak. “I- I don’t know what happened, I just-“

She shakes her head, and you trail off. I understand. I get angry too. She pauses, hands hovering for only a second. We are not like them. She points down the street, in the direction of the tower, and then past you, into the house. We get to be angry.

“I don’t want to be angry.” You say softly. “He wins when I get angry.”

Kimiko gives you a sad look, placing a hand on your arm. Her own frustration, her fear of Homelander, all the anger at the world, sinks into you. She holds your gaze for a second before drawing back to sign once more. He doesn’t win when you’re angry. He wins when you’re scared. You’re not Soldier Boy. Your anger is good.

You glance back into the house. “I think he- Ben- Soldier Boy- is scared. Or something. His emotions are really fucking confusing.”

You let him touch you. She signs. Does he know?

“He said he didn’t care, because he’s, and I quote, ‘not a pussy with something to hide’.”

But he’s scared? She gives you a questioning frown. Do you think it’s because of Russia? Could you fix it, like you offered for me?

“I’m not sure, but-“ you’re cut off as Frenchie honks the horn, leaning out the window.

“Mon Coeur!” His odd position makes his signing almost unintelligible, which he seems to realize, and raises his voice. “Monsieur Butcher says to get back ‘like a hare with a bomb up it’s arse'.”

Kimiko rolls her eyes at you, but signs a goodbye, giving your hand a small squeeze before returning to the car. As the engine rumbles, Frenchie pulling out the driveway, Kimiko’s calm faith lingers in you, and you walk back into the house, shutting the door behind you.

Almost all the lamps and ceiling lights of the house are off, the TV glowing from where you had abandoned it several hours ago. From the bottom of the stairs, you can see the upstairs hall is washed in a soft yellow, and when you reach the top Ben’s door is open, the light from within filling the hall. You stop at the entrance to his room, his back to you as he pulls a cotton shirt over his head.

You let out a small cough in a weak attempt to alert him to your presence.

“You’re allowed to just come in, Sunshine.” He grunts, still facing away. “I’m not a shy little virgin you need to pussyfoot around.”

You let out a small hum, walking over the threshold and stopping a few feet behind him. “Thank you.” You say softly, and he turns around to look at you.

His eyes are tired. Pained. Something looks like it’s pulling at him and it scares you. You’ve seen that expression before, when you’d woken him up that first day, at the Neuman mission, when you pulled him from nightmares with sharp hits, but never just there. It was always with something. This was like an island, just him and you, nothing pulling it out of him.

“Don’t thank me.” He says gruffly. Even his voice is drained. “You mostly held your own.”

“But-“

“And stop feeling bad about that Ashley bitch. She fucking deserved it.”

You stare at him. “You really believe that?”

He lets out a hollow laugh. “She was fucking pathetic. A fucking pussy. Fucking eating out Homelander’s fucking hand, brown-nosing him until he fucking cums and pays her, letting him take you-“ His jaw clenches. “I fucking meant it when I said we’re not going back Sunshine. I’m not a goddamn pussy liar.”

“I didn’t think you were. But, you…” Your voice fades as you try to find the words. “I could feel you. At the diner.”

“I fucking know, that was the goddamn point. I wasn’t going to let you start crying in front of those self-righteous pussies.”

“No, Ben.” You shake your head. “I could feel you. I could feel it.” You place a hand over your chest. “It was building. There was something beating against you, inside you. And you looked…” You watch him carefully. “Scared.”

“Fucking watch it.” He growls. “I don’t get fucking scared. I’m not-“

“A fucking pussy. I know.” You sigh. “I don’t want to, I can’t, fight right now. I’m so fucking tired. You can scream at me in the morning, but not right now, please.”

He stares at you, and just when you think he’s going to start yelling, he nods. “You’re…” He sounds strange. “You’re ok.”

Just like the last time he said it, the words aren’t phrased like a question. They don’t feel like a question. It feels like he’s just telling you again. But there’s something under it this time, something that makes his words almost unsure. Something that makes up your mind faster than you thought you would.

“Are you?” You ask quietly.

“Of course I fucking am.”

“Ben.” You tilt your head at him. “I’m going to tell you something, and I don’t want you to respond now.”

“You’re being fucking weird, Sunshine.”

“Please.”

He relents with a grunt. “Fucking fine. What.”

“I can fix it.” It’s so hard to keep his gaze as you speak. “It will take time, but I can fix it.”

“Fix what.” He scowls. “There’s nothing to fucking fix.”

“Your PTSD.”

“I don’t fucking have-“

“Ben, I could feel it. It’s dangerous. I could fix it.” You take a deep breath. “I can fix internal injuries as well. I offered to fix Kimiko’s muteness, but she didn’t want me to do it.”

“Then what fucking makes you think-“

“Muteness isn’t dangerous. And it would’ve been harder for me, I might have ended up mute myself. You’re dangerous like this. You can’t fucking control it, and don’t try and lie and say it’s under control. Ashley mentioned putting you back under, and you looked like someone was drowning you.”

“Shut the fuck up, Sunshine.” He leers at you. “You don’t fucking know me, know what it was like-“

“I do. You know I do.” You whisper, and the anger on his face breaks. “More than anyone else, I know. I can fix it, but you’ll have to let me. Just-“ You search his eyes, not sure what you’re looking for. “Just think about it. I won’t mention it again, I won’t even touch you, but my offer will stay on the table. Please, just think about it.”

Before you can leave, he grabs your hand. A rush of painful exhaustion runs through you, and there’s anger, but it’s not full of the fervor you’ve come to expect from him. It’s not even at you. It’s wide and almost consuming, leaving room for only a small kernel of something fragile and warm.

“I don’t care if you keep touching me, Sunshine. I've go nothing to hide from you, and that’s not going to change. But there’s nothing in me you need to fucking fix, so don’t fucking bother.”

“I’m not trying to fix you, Ben,” You murmur. "But remember, you burn, I burn. Please don't burn." Your last words are soft, and the kernel pulses.

“Good,” he grunts, releasing your arm. A small smirk crawls onto his face. “Now I don’t care if it’s here or in your room, Sunshine, but you need to go the fuck to bed. You look like shit.”

Just as he says it, the full weight of your fatigue hits you. You give a mumbled acknowledgement of his words, and try to leave the room, but all the adrenaline is gone from your system and nothing is left to stop the failure of your legs or droop of your eyes. The last thing you feel is something pulling you up before your knees hit the carpet, the last thing you see is green eyes on your own, and you hear an amused snort from above you.

“Goodnight, Sunshine. Try not to dream about me.”

You try to object, but sleep pulls you under before you can even remember why you need to.

[tgmsunmontue]

I never knew I was missing you 2/? WIP

Jake is just trying to find a connection. Shame the guy he connects with the most is lying about his identity online; because he sure as hell isn't A-list Hollywood star Bradley Bradshaw.

ONE

CHAPTER TWO

                Despite everything, PinballWizard is funny, dry and sarcastic with his humor, but definitely a nerd of the highest order. As well as being able to talk about pinball machines, he also knows a lot about naval aviation, can rattle off facts that even Jake hasn’t heard before but when he goes and looks them up, they check out. Jake assumes it’s how it ties into the model plane making. Obviously the guy is a fan of Bradley Bradshaw, imitation being the highest form of flattery or whatever it is, but Jake is wondering whether he can get an actual photo of him.

                He’s not too proud to admit that he’s a little vain, or a lot vain depending on who you ask. They’ve been chatting for a week now and Jake can’t believe how much he’s actually been enjoying it. Getting to know him, learning that he apparently lives with his two closest friends that he’s known since high school, enjoys swimming to keep fit but will do other things if he really has to. Grew up in California and has been coerced into doing all sorts of things because he loves his friends and would do anything for them. Jake has talked about being in the Navy and flying, both of which he seems incredibly knowledgeable about, which just makes him more convinced that it’s definitely not actually Bradley Bradshaw. Because while Jake doesn’t consider himself a huge fan, he’s pretty sure he’d have remembered if Bradley Bradshaw had any ties to the US Navy.

>>If you don’t believe me then why do you keep talking to me?

>>Well, even with your weird hobbies I find you more interesting than the people who are just sending me dick pics or only want to fuck.

>>Great to know what your priorities are.

>>Hey. Just telling it like it is.

>>Just be glad I’m not reporting you to the police for pretending to be someone you’re not.

>>I’d like to see how successful you are with that.

>>More successful than you.

>>Why are you talking to me when I don’t believe you?

>>Because I enjoy talking to you.

>>Yeah well, ditto.

>>What would it take for you to believe me?

                Jake sighs, because they’ve gone around this in circles once already, PinballWizard sending a new photo which Jake is pretty certain is simply stolen from the deep recess of the internet, somewhere like Pinterest or something. And sure enough another photo comes through and it’s definitely a candid shot, the stubble isn’t something he’s used to seeing in pictures, just the moustache, which he’d grown for a part and then found he liked it enough to keep it. Jake’s glad, he’s a fan of the moustache for sure. It does disappear for some parts, but Jake is always relieved when he sees it growing back. This photo though has an almost beard, and not a closely trimmed one, patchy in places and he wonders if maybe PinballWizard actually has access to Bradley Bradshaw’s private Instagram account or something.

>>You just grabbed that off the internet. It’s fine. Whatever.  Don’t send me a proper photo. You’re probably some pot-bellied guy in his 50s living in his parent’s basement mending your little machines…

                He knows he’s being an asshole, but he’s hoping to provoke him into at least something real. Knows what he’s typed out is at least half lies, PinballWizard talked about his friends too easily to make Jake think that they weren’t real, and he’d have to live with other people given the cost of rent. Then his phone chimes and the next photo that comes through makes him choke and cough, because holy shit, definitely not pot-bellied or in his 50s. There’s no face this time, but written on a piece of paper, very clearly, is Fuck you Brad2lover andif he’s not mistaken it looks like the guy is trying to give him the finger. His arms are nicely muscled, and his stomach is flat and there’s a hint of abs and he doesn’t think PinballWizard is even flexing. Holy shit.

>>Holy shit PW, why are you lying about who you are when you have a body like that?

>>Not lying, but you won’t believe me so we’ll just have to agree to disagree.

>>Damn you’re stubborn.

>>Yeah.

>>With good reason.

>>So are you.

                Jake laughs and shrugs, despite the fact that no one can see him.

>>My name’s Jake.

>>Share your name at least.

>>Call me Brad.

                Jake rolls his eyes.

>>Fine.

>>Brad it is.

…            …            …

                “Your flyboy checks out,” Ron says, taking a sip of coffee and Bradley looks up.

                “What?”

                “I did a background check. Plus I asked Ice to have a look. He’s squeaky clean.”

                “I didn’t ask you to do that,” Bradley states, even though he understand the necessity of it, he doesn’t have to like it.

                “No, you didn’t. You shouldn’t have to because it’s part of my job and I’m not letting your delicate sensibilities of wanting to find out about the person organically put you at risk again.”

                “Yeah. Fine,” Bradley says with a sigh.

                “I’m not telling you anything else. Just… you can trust him. Open up and share things.”

                “Well, he doesn’t believe it’s me he’s talking to anyway, so it doesn’t even matter.”

                “Huh. That’s not a problem I thought we’d have.”

                “Yeah well. It’s the problem I have.”

                “You like him?”

                “Uncle Sli, it’s hard to like a guy who thinks I’m lying to him.”

                “Taking that out of the equation, do you like him?”

                “I’ve been talking to him every day all week.”

                “Am I meant to extrapolate my own answer from that?”

                “Fine. Yes. I like him. Happy now? He makes me laugh. I don’t think he’d care about the fame, if he actually believed it was me. But he doesn’t.”

                “Hmm,” Sli hums, his eyes narrowing and Bradley shakes his head.

                “No. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but the answer is no.”

                “I wasn’t going to do anything.”

                “Do? Maybe not. But you can’t say anything either. Not to Mav, and not to Ice.”

                “Well, too late. Ice already knows, because he wanted to know why I was asking.”

                “Of course he did,” Bradley says, rubbing his forehead. God. This is going to turn into a huge mess. Maybe he should just cut his losses and stop chatting with Jake. “Please tell me you haven’t mentioned it to Mav at least…”

                “Nope. I haven’t. But you really want me keeping secrets from my husband?”

                “I want you to remember who pays you and that you’ve got a confidentiality clause you’re meant to stick to.”

                “You know very well he’s exempt…”

                Bradley sighs, because he’s right, because Mav decreed that he should know everything. Which of course has led to Bradley trying to keep even the smallest thing from him, and Ice lording it over him if he ever finds out something first.

                “Please. Don’t share anything with him. There not yet anything to share. He has no self-control, so please don’t tempt him with it…”

                “You know him so well.”

                “My whole life,” Bradley mutters, used to this refrain between them and prepares himself for the sappy rejoinder, ready to pull the face Sli expects him to make despite the fact that he wants what him and Mav have.

                “And the rest of mine.”

                “Gross. Go visit him. I’m not going anywhere.”

                “Don’t need to tell me twice.”

…            …            …

                Jake isn’t sure why he’s persisting with Brad, and he wonders if he should maybe do a little digging, but isn’t sure whether he can do about Bradley Bradshaw, or about Brad. He isn’t tech savvy enough to hack into anyone’s account, but he can ask harder to answer questions. Maybe see if he can get something concrete.

>>So, real talk.

>>Worst relationship?

>>Creepy stalker woman.

>>Any relationship that ends up having to involve the police is the worst.

>>Well shit, I was just going to say getting broken up with while deployed.

>>Yeah. That would suck.

>>Yeah. But still better than getting cheated on. Cause that sucks worse.

>>Ouch. Yeah. Been there too.

>>When did dating or finding someone get to be so hard?

>>I know my parents didn’t have it this hard.

                Bingo. Jake knows that Bradley Bradshaw is an orphan, his father dying when he was young and then his mom when he was a teenager. How has never been covered, questions deflected away carefully, but Brad is talking about his parents.

>>I mean, I can’t ask them, because they’re dead. But even my godfathers seem to have had it easier.

                Well shit, the guy clearly knows Bradley Bradshaw pretty well. Back to the drawing board it is.

THREE

[paperstorm]

Is it Wednesday already 🥴 3x17 missing moment is nearing completion. Proposal here we come. I am in a dusty archive with terrible internet this today so I have this scheduled, excited to read all your snippets when I get home!

-

“Hey, baby,” TK pants, smiling at Carlos as he steps into their apartment.

He watches, feeling a bead of sweat rolling down his temple, as Carlos stops in his tracks and for a moment just stares across the room at him. TK cocks his head to one side, confused, and slows his speed. He sits back down onto the padded seat as Carlos turns to close and lock the door behind him.

“How was your day?” TK asks, reaching for the towel he’d slung over the handlebars so he can wipe at his damp face. His legs peddle slowly, letting himself come down from the zenith of his workout. He’s already a little light-headed, endorphins kicking in and leaving him buzzing.

“Fine,” Carlos says evenly, dropping his bag down and making his way across the room. His shoes click on the poured concrete, measured and metronomic as he approaches.

“Hey,” TK says again, laughing a little in confusion, as within seconds Carlos goes from yards away from him by the door to right in front of him.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Carlos murmurs, reaching for him and running his hands up TK’s arm, his shoulder, down his bare chest.

Caught off guard, TK giggles and stumbles a little, having to grab for the handlebar to keep himself from falling off the bike.

“Look at you,” Carlos rasps. TK gets a brief glimpse of the black that’s taken over his irises and finally his brain catches up with what’s happening. It shouldn’t have taken so long, they’ve both been so into each other lately that TK seems to spend more time with his legs in the air than he spends doing almost anything else, but his stomach flips once he realizes.

“Oh.”

Carlos steps in closer, chest against his arm so TK lifts it and wraps it around Carlos’s shoulders half a second before Carlos surges forward and kisses him hard enough to bruise. TK mmph’s into it, another surprised and breathless laugh tickling the back of his throat as Carlos’s tongue is in his mouth of all of a sudden.

“Babe, I’m sweaty,” TK protests half-heartedly, aware that his wet armpit is pressing against the shoulder of Carlos’s nice shirt.

“Yeah,” Carlos agrees shortly, in a way that communicates it’s the very opposite of a problem for him. He attaches his lips to TK’s neck, inhaling deeply like his damp skin is the best thing Carlos has ever smelled; big hands enclosing TK’s waist and squeezing him while TK struggles to balance on the small bicycle seat.

“What got into you, today?”

“Nothing. I had the most boring day of all time, spent like two hours on my phone playing Angry Birds and half listening to Lexi tell me why Lemonade is the best album of all time.” Carlos licks a stripe up his throat.

TK swallows as desire stirs in his groin and sends blood southward.

“And then you,” he continues, in a voice that’s low and rough and sending rocket fire right to TK’s quickly hardening cock, “who insisted on putting an exercise bike in the middle of my dining room not once, but twice – ”

“I didn’t insist shit,” TK interrupts, a cramp starting to ache in his hip from the awkward way he’s twisted and hissing softly when Carlos lightly grazes teeth over the junction of his neck and shoulder, “you put it there twice, I asked both times if you wanted it somewhere else.”

Carlos continues as if he hadn’t spoken, “ – and then barely ever fucking use the damn thing, thought you could just be here, shirtless and sweaty, when I got home, and thought I wasn’t gonna lose my whole mind about it?”

Tagging @theghostofashton @birdclowns @reyesstrand @strandnreyes @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut

@carlos-in-glasses @actual-sleeping-beauty @thisbuildinghasfeelings @herefortarlos @heartstringduet

@goodways @alrightbuckaroo @lightningboltreader @freneticfloetry

@liminalmemories21 @nancys-braids @lemonlyman-dotcom @whatsintheboxmh

@bonheur-cafe @reasonandfaithinharmony @thebumblecee @never-blooms

@sanjuwrites @orchidscript @jesuisici33 @kiwichaeng @honeybee-taskforce

@fifthrideroftheapocalypse @fitzherbertssmolder @butchreyes @just-inside-her @firstprince-history-huh

@captain-gillian @tellmegoodbye @anactualcaseofthetruth @ironheartwriter @eclectic-sassycoweyes

@ditheringmind @emsprovisions @irispurpurea @nisbanisba @corsage

Want to be added or removed from the list? Lmk

[project-changeling-zero]

things i wish the sonic franchise brought back or implement.

.

Dark Sonic

seriously, i love imagining a fight between Dark Sonic and Eggman inspired by Korra vs. Zaheer ( when she was poisoned ). where he loses the cool attitude, the smile, everything, and goes in with full power, charging himself left and right at Eggman. it'd be even more fascinating to still have Dark Sonic lose. not because of his lack of power, not because of lack of skill, even when blinded by rage, but because of Eggman's ingenuity.

a lot of people, to this day, misinterpret Dark Sonic as a murderous, rampaging monster, but that completely misses the purpose of why he exists to begin with. i believe this is a case of people not exactly knowing where he comes from, or just a lot of fans drawing a murderous Sonic and it took the internet by storm one day, but just in case you don't know:

Dark Sonic is from Sonic X, a TV show that is sort of an expansion on Sonic Adventure 2, adding more lore, character arcs, and overall meaning to the game's original plot. Dark Sonic was revealed in the episode "Teasing Time" in s3, and the reason he appeared is because he discovered his friends ( Cosmo and Chris ) were injured and that one of them ( Chris ) was unconscious.

the whole reason this form exists is Sonic's love for his friends essentially fueling his rage. it's like Darkspine Sonic from SATSR, or has similar formula. Dark Sonic isn't inspired by any bloodlust or desire to kill, but rather by burning anger at seeing his friends be put in harm's way.

Dark Sonic is made from the strong desire to protect his friends.

2. An Actual Arc For Shadow

you guys might be confused, especially if you consider some of my previous posts, but lemme explain.

for a long time, it's never felt like Shadow has actually recovered from his trauma, atone for his actions ( yes, i understand he saved Earth ), or live life really at all. it doesn't help that, to this day, SEGA continues to make Shadow relive the past.

i don't consider the movies to be a part of the problem, as Shadow being introduced to the plot was basically a given, and you can't introduce him in your own take without his general backstory ( unless you're Boom or Prime, i guess ). i believe the movie will be doing taking some creative liberties to his story, as they did so with Sonic, Tails, and Knuckles, and i see no reason that they should stop.

the reason why i have an issue with this is because it's an ongoing issue within the games, specifically. Shadow the Hedgehog ( 2005 ) was a disservice to his setup and the 'first arc' ( considering he's still alive after the fans demanded his return ) to his story.

aside from it just giving 'early 2010s deviantart edge', it's just so...

childishly handled.

for one, you're immediately given a Hero or Dark route, like in SA2, which i feel completely misses the point of SA2's true ending. Shadow has redeemed himself ( or began to ), so to give him complete reign to just become an antagonist all over again defeats the whole purpose of a redemption.

it's like what Prime did with Dread, giving him an already established redemption arc ( sort of ), but then corrupting him again for no real reason other than just because.

another issue i have is Shadow's amnesia and attitude in general within the game. technically speaking, yes, it does make sense for him to suffer memory and // or physical issues from his fall from space, but to completely wipe out every single thing he did just to give him the opportunity to relearn his past, do some fucked up shit, do some less fucked up shit, then throw away everything in the past, Maria and her wish included, is...

amazingly obtuse, for lack of a better word.

again, while it's technically not out of bounds, i feel like giving Shadow complete and total amnesia just disrespects SA2's vision and execution of the story. it's redundant, it's lazy, and overall just really damn frustrating to watch.

Shadow deserves to have a story that allows him to heal from his trauma, discover who he is, and respecting Maria's wish along the way. a lot of people seem to think it's either he forgets about his past ( or buries it ) or full-on dedicates his entire life and doesn't bother picking up a life lesson or two, but it doesn't have to be that way.

Shadow can heal, grow, and change. SEGA just won't let him.

3. The Echidna Tribe & Knuckles' Story

Knuckles is one of my favorite characters in the entire franchise as a whole, but his character and story is sorely dismissed. while Shadow has the issue of repetition, Knuckles suffers from being dropped on the head multiple times and played for a joke ( i think Frontiers is one of the more recent games that didn't do this, but i might be wrong ).

one of the reasons why i love Knuckles is how straightforward, yet reluctant he was about finding out his past. at the end of Sonic Adventure 1, he says something to the extent of:

"maybe i'm better off not knowing the meaning behind all of this. because i feel something terrible will happen if i do."

he is content being ignorant for the sake of his own peace of mind.

but in SA2, he's more or less forced to start facing his fear and learn more about the past. unfortunately, though, we don't actually get to see much after this game, because the tribe is almost entirely forgotten. instead, it's brought up in comics that are more or less canon ( i think ), but not fully aligning with the games. i think it's safe to say the comics are their own canon?

like with Shadow, i would've loved to see an actual conclusion on this arc of Knuckles' story. to see more of the tribe in the past, of their wrongdoings, character moments, more of Tikal or Chaos or the little Chao, and how it all ties together.

but instead, we have lots of media repeatedly insulting Knuckles' intelligence, ignoring his tribe and // or his job entirely ( i guess they forget the Master Emerald is portable? ), and just generally dumbing him down to be a hotheaded moron that apparently doesn't care about being the Guardian!

Knuckles is one of the most relatable characters in this series for me, as there's a lot of things i would rather not know and stay ignorant to, but have to face head on in order to fully move past it and grow to be better.

he was completely isolated on Angel Island for so long, yet people still make fun of him to this day for being manipulated by Eggman in SA1 ( even though he didn't even fully believe Eggman, it was just a precaution, but who cares about the details- ). he's not just a hothead, he's strong, he's kind, he's pretty blunt and, honestly, really fucking adorable, i love this echidna.

look at him, just standing there. i love him.

anyway, Knuckles deserves a proper story surrounding his tribe, his identity as the Guardian of Angel Island, his relationships, and to have a satisfying conclusion. or, at the very least, more games or media in general not dumbing him down to an angry hothead with nothing better to do but to yell and ignore his responsibilities.

3. Sonic

"what're you talking about, ashe? sonic's meant to be a flat character! what could be wrong with him?"

yeah, but after frontiers, i want more mentally ill sonic that needs to be concerned for by his friends, okay, that's all i want-

4. Storybook Era

now, now, i know a lot of people don't like the storybook games because of their shoddy gameplay and all that, but i genuinely love these games, their flaws included.

i do believe satbk has a better story than satsr, but i still have an attachment to the latter game, so suck it.

it'd be really nice to see a storybook game with switch, xbox, ps, or similar controls. as the era has Sonic diving into different worlds, maybe a world like Alice and Wonderland could be an interesting game. several elements to work with, locations turning into creative levels or even hub worlds. this is sort of a long shot dream that will probably never exist, but i wanna see an adventure-style storybook game one day.

i'll probably die before that idea is even considered, but it's a fun thought and that's all that matters at the end of the day.

there's no real big reason as to why these matter or anything, as i don't believe you need a storybook in order to send off the messages these games try to give, but they're just really charming to me and i love to see how this type of game could be implemented into video games today, with all the new engines and whatnot.

5. Teams

oof, okay, um-

there's a few games that have teams in them, and i guess you can count sonic forces as one of those games, so i should be more specific here.

i like SA1's flexibility with the roulette-like system, where you could play as any character you wished, but i also like SA2's team system, where they all had a close-knit role within the story from a similar perspective ( hero vs. dark ).

SA1 served multiple perspectives, all giving you pieces of the same puzzle that you have to figure out as you go. by the final story, all of the characters ( except Big, but idc, i love him ) have their character arcs and it's with their changes that the story is fully complete.

SA2 served the entirety of two perspectives and merged them together for the final story, heroes and villains having to work together to fight off the greater evil at hand.

overall, i want more games having the characters work together, having different details // information or even moral differences ( it depends on which system they go with, though ) on the situation at large, but maybe still having to come together.

whether or not they use official teams, i want the sonic franchise to bring back using other characters as necessary plot points with their own individual arcs.

it may not be needed, per say, as there's still a few games that work and don't have either of these systems, but i really miss the adventure games and wish for more of their elements to be implemented in future games.

6. CHAO!!!

BRING THESE LITTLE CREATURES BACK, GODDAMN, WHY ONLY TWO GAMES?!

.

anyway, that's all i can currently think of. i think these would serve either character or charm to the franchise, but maybe you have some other ideas of what the games could give! maybe proper returns of characters, other forgotten stories, or even new ideas!

lemme know what you think.

[ceruleanwhore]

I just had a friendship breakup and there’s some stuff with that that lines up with a particular sub-population of the internet that I think some of y’all really need to hear. Basically, it doesn’t matter if you’re neurodivergent or mentally ill or whatever, you cannot just deny reality, make shit up, and insist that your fantasies are real. For example, if you do something shitty to someone, you cannot just decide that them being mad at you is not a natural consequence of your actions and that they aren’t allowed to be upset because it makes you uncomfortable.

I bring this up on here because it’s super common for people with mental health struggles to go through a phase where they feel like everyone else should just cater to them while they do literally nothing to treat their issues. I know it comes from recognizing the unfairness of how everyone else can just do whatever while you have to dedicate years of your life to changing yourself but that change is necessary and you’ll get over it. This is for the traumatized girlies who try and insist that literally any and all expressions of anger are abuse and anything else like that because anger makes them uncomfortable so they make it everyone else’s problem. Touch grass and get a therapist, you’re not valid and you aren’t going to be able to form and maintain relationships as long as you have that level of entitlement and detachment from reality.

Also, I get that a lot of you didn’t get the special extra education that those of us who grew up autistic did, where you’re manually taught social pragmatics and emotions and shit, but I’ve also got another something special that y’all missed. If you did a shitty thing to someone you have a relationship with, it is neither normal nor valid for your very first response to them expressing their anger to be playing the victim and saying they can’t be mad at you. Same also goes for if your very first response to them is to nitpick the wording of what they just said before you say literally anything else. If you’re the asshole in the situation and now you need to make amends and shit, do the apology stuff first and then bring up any issues like that after.

Oh and last thing - I know it’s been said before but if anyone claims or acts like they’re always the victim, no the fuck they aren’t. If someone has a pattern of not having relationships with people last and then claiming every single time that they did nothing wrong and it was all the other person, they are lying. Also, don’t be that person either.

[cult-of-the-eye]

Ok I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna make the new hyperfixation post:

CRIMINAL MINDS:

I started watching it cause I was on the internet during the Dr Reid thirst trap era and let's just say a scrawny motherfucker with autism is the surefire way to get me to watch something

Especially when everyone is going through the horrors

I am in love with the format of the show, with the whole quotes and then different characters saying the quotes and the isolated cases with the slight hints of more background for each of the characters it's really keeping me going

I'm not great with gore and shit but like it's got shitty 2000s CGI so like it's easy to tell myself it's just actors with fake blood

Also listen I had to tap into my 9 yr old undiagnosed autistic obsessed with psychopaths phase at some point

It just tickles the right parts of my brain

Anyway the characters are why I stuck around

Gideon <3333 I love that strange walrus looking man I love how he's simultaneously such an emotional rock for everyone in the BAU but also dealing with his own things, he goes into each of the crimes with such calmness and compassion and I just love that weird old man especially when he introduced himself as Jason to the little girl he was saving in that one episode, i was like HE'S MAKING HIMSELF SEEM LIKE LESS OF A THREAT BY INTRODUCING HIMSELF WITH HIS FIRST NAMEEEE, HE'S TRYING TO PUT HER AT EASE

Hotch oh man it was one scene specifically that literally started my brainrot for this guy, I wasn't that into him in the first couple of episodes and then it was revealed that he was horrifically abused by his dad and actively chose to go into a pathway that would catch people like that and people who get abused and then go on to abuse others and I just. AH. i am such a sucker for any character who has endured things that no one ever should endure at the hands of another human being and then instead of becoming completely bitter and taking the eye for an eye mindset, they vow to make sure the cycle stops with them and they may not be all sunshine and daisies and instead rough a lot of the times but they do it and they do it realistically

He's got a wife and a kid!!! He did it!! He made a better life for himself and it makes me feel like I could too, he's so strong and I feel like my strength can one day be used for more than just survival

Elle!!!! God I love her I feel like she's so realistic for a woman in her field, she's smart and strong and capable and she acknowledges all the things she has going against her, she's compassionate to the female rape victims, she gets furious at the people targeting women in particular what i would do to be this woman's friend

Reid. Oh lord. Listen I'm not on the thirst trap train but I do understand the love for this guy. My love for him however stems from the autism. The whole wanting to be useful and only knowing how to through interests and hyperfixations and feeling like he's missing out on some things cause he's different

It was the hostage situation on the train that got to me he was just so REAL and it's so awesome to see autistic people succeed in stuff like this

It's also nice to see him accepted by the team for who he is

I do also like him cause he's cool but it's easier to explain the autism stuff

Garcia - wonderful amazing spectacular I love me a confident woman in stem

Morgan - i like how he's sort of the "cool guy" archetype but his whole thing is getting into the mind of the UnSub I feel like it gives him more depth

JJ - god she's so cool and calm under pressure I love her

So yeah. The BAU is my new comfort character crew I'm taking Elle with me everywhere

But also do I have major issues with the idea of behavioural analysis in crime? Absolutely. It is so insanely subjective the way they're going off of probability, the way their precedent probably lacks temporal validity and also population validity with both the androcentrism and ethnocentrism it does feel wrong to be coming to such a conclusion about the UnSub so quickly and decisively, even though I understand their whole thing is getting there quickly. I just know that categorising human behaviour is never as simple as it seems.

Do I think they tackle some of these issues in the show? Sort of. Am I also aware this is a fictional drama TV show and it may not be that deep? Yes.

Anyway

[starryeyeddreamer21]

Okay so more for my Hazbin Hotel co-parenting au

I was just thinking about other people's reaction to this weird thing they've got going on so here is all of Hells reactions

The first one seen with the baby is Alastor (he's on his way to show Rosie that he's acquired a baby) Everyone freaks out about it because "Did the radio demon have a child?" "Did he steal that baby?" "He's on his way to cannibal town HOLY SHIT HE'S GOING TO EAT A BABY"

So as we all know hell loves to gossip so that's what they do. A ton of theories go around but when they don't see him with the baby again they decide it probably met a terrible fate. So they drop it UNTIL...

Angel is seen with the baby next. They're just out buying baby clothes but people are like "huh? When did famous porn star Angel Dust have a baby?" People start taking pictures and posting them on the Internet and the people that saw Alastor and the baby in person are like OH SHIT so now the rumors are worse. Most people think Angel and Alastor are together and raising this baby.

They're still talking about all this when Charlie is seen with the baby. They're just chilling going for a walk. Hell is in an uproar. Polls are going around asking people whose baby they think it is. There's definitely memes. All in all everyone is way too into this.

So the Vees being social media demons have been keeping track of this. Vox has been pissed from the very beginning because it started with Alastor and we all know how he is. Val is writing a list of ways to use this against Angel in a sparkly pink notebook. Velvette wants this to end she's sick of everyone talking about this it bores her and she's not getting as much attention as before SO she decides to interview Angel.

She asks a simple question "is this baby yours? The radio demons? Or the princesses?"

"....yes?"

Things are worse than ever. Nobody understands what's going on. Their first thought is poly but as more demons are seen with the baby they decide that's less and less likely (and the Radio Demon in a poly relationship? Yeah okay). They realize everyone that lives in the princesses hotel is helping raise that baby so now they think if they move in they become a parent (which is not how that works)

It's not even a mystery but nobody can seem to wrap their head around it so at this point they're just waiting for all the attention to dial down or some different drama to take everyone's mind off of it

Also Alastor has no idea any of this is happening because he doesn't have social media and nobody thought to tell him

BONUS: Rosie and Cherri's reactions

Rosie: First of all she definitely goes by Auntie Rosie but anyway she's super supportive of Alastor and is so happy for him. She spoils this kid so much it's ridiculous. She's just an amazing aunt like when the kid is older Rosie is usually the one she goes to for advice. And yes she definitely tries to give the kid demon flesh but most of her parents say no.

Cherri Bomb: She's just confused like last week her and Angel were clubbing and now he's a dad? Obviously she's happy for Angel and is super supportive. Angel even starts referring to her as Auntie Cherri which melts her heart. She's a little annoyed though because now Angel hangs out with her less than ever. She definitely misses going out and doing irresponsible shit because he rarely does that anymore. She's also a terrible influence and is not allowed to watch the baby alone. She's the fun aunt but a bit too irresponsible for comfort. Also she tries to make the baby's first word a cuss word. She will be sitting with this baby for hours just going "fuck... Fuck...fuck" which is another reason she's not allowed to be left alone with the baby.

[cardo-de-comer]

been following this blog for quite a while now and just wanna say that ur art is just so damn amazing to look at even if i rly miss the daya when u make oddworld fanart too since its how i found abt this in the first place obvly since ur one of the few fanartists that i actually give a shit abt personally but at the same time i dont mind ur oc lore stuff either even if i dont pay too much attention to it since u have a lot of fun with that too for a good while to keep u busy until smth crazy happens in the next few years or whatever i just know it lol and also atp i highly reccomend switching over to bluesky sooner than later whenever u can since twt sucks ass and only cuz itll be an easier alternative to view ur art as well and a more comfortable option than that hellhole place too :3

thank you! i also quite like some of my old oddworld stuff - wow the strength i had to draw all that. I still love oddworld, I just think I drew everything I personally could for now. And yeah I know about bluesky, a lot of ppl were asking me about it. I don't plan to switch however and for several reasons. I don't have enough mental energy to make and keep another social media account and this also goes to a lot of reasons in my head which I'm not gonna cover here. And another reason is that on bluesky there's mostly artists that follow artists. And while it's really cool, twitter is more like a common ground when you want your art to reach a wider audience. That also includes a lot of morons sadly but that's what "block" button is for. Not a full defense, you can't block everyone, but we're on the internet. I choose to ignore fyp, post sth, like the posts from those few ppl i follow there and leave. Maybe I will delete my account there in near future but for now that's how it goes. I know twitter sucks but honestly other social medias are not much better for me. I still feel the best on tumblr, I've been here for years and I choose to close my eyes on bad things and updates here so that's my main social media for now. Internet is falling apart for a few years now and it's hard to find a good place to settle down. I could go on this topic about social medias forever but I'll stop now. To clarify, I'm not defending twitter.

[munchmemes]

HARI KONDABOLU: WARN YOUR RELATIVES

because i was a fool and deleted the original post + updated a bit

❛ how is 800 not significant? ❜ ❛ you have to weave through a capitalist obstacle course. ❜ ❛ hey, [NAME], why did you miss your flight? ❜ ❛ i just bought a 40 pound Toblerone for no reason. ❜ ❛ hey, you look nervous. why do you look so nervous? ❜ ❛ how do little bottles keep us safer? ❜ ❛ what i think is happening is that the government is in cahoots with the little bottle people. ❜ ❛ then you walk through another machine that swipes right to left like this and steals your thoughts. ❜ ❛ it’s a little suspicious. it’s a little SUSPICIOUS! ❜ ❛ yes, pay respect to your silent masters. ❜ ❛ what does that tell you!? what does that tell you!? ❜ ❛ that tells me you're on the internet too much. ❜ ❛ this is a depression beard. i’m depressed right now. ❜ ❛ i'm depressed right now. i am just a threat to myself. you have nothing to worry about. ❜ ❛ but if you’re there, then who’s - ❜ ❛ if you're the expert on being harassed, it's time you do the harassing, right? ❜ ❛ who brought the asshole with the microphone? ❜ ❛ why [is he] yelling so much? ❜ ❛ it was a delightful diminishment of my life's work. ❜ ❛ you need to keep it simple. elementary, my dear watson. elementary. ❜ ❛ look at you! look at what you look like! ❜ ❛ i look like a Muppet getting a PhD. ❜ ❛ i'm talking really loudly 'cause i want everyone to hear. ❜ ❛ Kid Rock, right? ❜ ❛ and also: WHAT THE FUCK? ❜ ❛ Kid Rock? you confused me with Kid Rock? ❜ ❛ maybe [they] saw the K and the I and ignored all the other letters. which is weird because that's not how reading works. ❜ ❛ that's the saddest shit in the world! ❜ ❛ but [they] felt bad. and i felt better so it was a win-win situation. ❜ ❛ well, you could’ve fooled me. ❜ ❛ i clearly fooled you! you were fooled! ❜ ❛ i don’t know what the fuck that means! ❜ ❛ i don’t know why you do this to us! ❜ ❛ well, now i know how to end the show, great. ❜ ❛ fucking snowflake. ❜ ❛ you don’t know me! i was an athlete! yes, chess is a sport! ❜ ❛ i’ve never heard of that technology. ❜ ❛ why are you blatantly lying to us? ❜ ❛ i figured it out. what they are doing is using the philosophy which is held within the song "it wasn't me" by Shaggy. ❜ ❛ things are so bad. they’re just really fucking awful. ❜ ❛ everything feels like the end of a Kurt Vonnegut novel. ❜ ❛ it's not good. it's just better than nothing, right? ❜ ❛ health insurance might as well be run by casinos at this point. ❜ ❛ it goes through the system, gets negotiated back and forth and you end up with far less than you want. ❜ ❛ what do we have now? like, echinacea, prayer and a hug. and [they're} trying to take the hug away. ❜ ❛ no, i don't know what those words mean. but i saw Rocky IV. ❜ ❛ my proposal wasn't about a redistribution of wealth. my healthcare proposal was about a redistribution of organs. ❜ ❛ after rich people die - i mean, after we kill them -  ❜ ❛ we kill these rich people and we take the organs from them. ❜ ❛ and we'd feast. we’d eat a little meal i call justice. ❜ ❛ now, you might be thinking 'well, [NAME], that sounds so unreasonable.' yes! it is! ❜

❛ i can’t believe [they] won though. i mean, seriously?! ❜ ❛ i don't wanna put my values on you but i was always told not to do that. honestly, i wasn't even told. i just kind of knew. ❜ ❛ i love my mom, man. my mom is my favourite person. ❜ ❛ my mom is the reason why i’m funny. ❜ ❛ my dad is the reason i have anxiety. ❜ ❛ half of your genes were an obstacle to overcome. ❜ ❛ don’t have children. only stupid people have children. ❜ ❛ my mom was Grindr before there was Grindr. ❜ ❛ ultimately, that’s what this is about. change hearts and minds. ❜ ❛ homosexuality is not an open rebellion against God. do you know what an open rebellion against God is? NASA. ❜ ❛ not now, [NAME]! ❜ ❛ that joke was about divinity! about identity! it was about the nature of power! ❜ ❛ so, i was licking this girl’s asshole … ❜ ❛ man, i fucking hate firefighters. ❜ ❛ who hates firefighters? what are you, the fucking Human Torch? ❜ ❛ what is this, the 1980s? or the Midwest now? ❜ ❛ it’s too spicy. what is it? ❜ ❛ it’s water. ❜ ❛ it’s a lemon. ❜ ❛ can i put ketchup on it? i wanna put ketchup. i wanna put ketchup on everything! ❜ ❛ that is the glorious taste of something. you’re tasting something. ❜ ❛ the story is, the mango was very juicy. that's the whole story. ❜ ❛ can you tell me the mango story again? ❜ ❛ it’s because that mango is that GOOD! ❜ ❛ it’s a good mango. ❜ ❛ i fucking love mangoes!! ❜ ❛ i would start a mango podcast if i could. ❜ ❛ this is why you need to cut your high school friends from Facebook. ❜ ❛ why does the devil need an advocate? he's the devil! why does the prince of darkness need your help exactly? ❜ ❛ that’s interesting. have you thought about selling your soul to the devil? ❜ ❛ you know, if you'd like to live forever, you could sell your soul to the devil. ❜ ❛ that’s all the devil wants! ❜ ❛ and i said 'yes' even though i had no idea what this meant. ❜ ❛ oh, shit! acting! ❜ ❛ oh, shit! he’s pretending this is real or something. ❜ ❛ this shit is wild. ❜ ❛ and then … HE PUNCHED ME IN THE CHEST. ❜ ❛ this is acting? i hate acting. ❜ ❛ oh, it’s okay. i have that joke. ❜ ❛ if you think i’m talking about you, then yes, i’m definitely talking about you, yes. ❜ ❛ we're gonna snapchat the revolution. ❜ ❛ you can't ask me where i'm from and not know geography. ❜ ❛ where's your white guilt? ❜ ❛ i'm not looking for a lot of white guilt, just enough where you apologize even if you don't mean it. ❜ ❛ i was vexed. i was fuming. i had had it up to here. ❜ ❛ there's no time for symbolism! ❜ ❛ what’s the deal with that old dude? ❜

[steddietogo]

Made With Love

Part 3 of Steddie Tik Tok au: The Halloween Vlog

Read part 2 <<here

———

Robin is in a pinstriped three-piece suit, her short brown hair dyed black and slicked back, with a badly drawn moustache on her face. “Unhapphy, darphling?” She speaks around a rose stem she’s holding between her teeth.

“Oh yes,” The camera pans to Eddie lounging on an armchair. He’s ditched his usual band tee and ripped jeans combo for a tight black dress with the deepest neckline known to man, the long black fabric pooling around his feet. He raises his arm, bell sleeve flaring, and flips his straightened hair behind his shoulders with red painted nails. “Yes completely,” deep red lips curve into smile and he bats his eyes, heavily lined and dusted in smokey grey eyeshadow.

———

“Originally, we were supposed to be the Sanderson sisters for Halloween but someone—” Robin looks at something pointedly off camera, “—decided to go off and commit to a group costume with his long-distance babysitting wards without consulting us,”

“This—” Eddie strikes a pose as Robin gestures to them, “—was supposed to be a revenge costume but now we feel kinda bad because—” the camera flips around to show a pile of blankets on the couch, “Dingus is now down with the flu,” A hand emerges from its depths and flips them off.

“I think he’s going as The Thing,” Eddie says and they both snicker.

———

Eddie is in the kitchen using Steve’s recording set up. “My darling Gomez has gone off to party, it’s just me and Steve at home now,” he sighs dramatically, “Alas, I knocked him out with cough syrup so he won’t be up for a couple hours,”

“And I found this recipe for chicken noodle soup and I, Eddie Munson who cannot cook to save my own life, am going to put it to test since Steve keeps saying ‘anyone can make it’. Were gonna find out today baby,”. Eddie’s reading off of a book as he lays out everything he would need on the counter, announcing each item as he takes them out. “I hope I’m using the right pot and Steve won’t kill me,”

———

Eddie is slow dancing to Lady Gaga with a plastic skeleton meant for decoration, his dress swishing around him as he twirls with his inanimate dance partner. During a particularly enthusiastic dip, the skeleton’s skull breaks off from the rest of the body and rolls away.

“Betty! Noooo!” Eddie cries, falling to his knees.

———

“No one told me how sweaty cooking can make you,” Eddie’s twisting his hair up in a bun, “But I’m committed to it now, I will not be bested by soup,”

“Look at this, my make up isn’t the only thing melting in the heat,” He holds up a bent looking plastic spatula to the camera. “Its totally not because I put it too close to the stove but we’re going to hide the evidence so Steve doesn’t find out,”

———

“I accidentally added too much salt, went to the Internet for help and a lot of people say that adding a potato will help fix it,” Eddie explains as he is chopping one. “There are no potatoes in this recipe, so if Steve asks, I’m gonna tell him I have no idea how they got in there,”

“Here goes nothing,” Eddie shoves both sleeves all the way up his arms before dropping all of the potato pieces in at once, making a little bit of the boiling soup splash out of the pot missing him by inches. “Oh shit, that was close. Don’t try this at home kids,”

———

“Moment of truth people,” He’s ladling soup into a bowl. “Personally, I’m just surprised this came out edible, but let’s see what the chef has to say about it,”

The clip cuts to Eddie shuffling away from the camera that’s now facing the sofa where Steve is taking a nap. Eddie kneels before him, a gentle hand on Steve’s face as he nudges him wake. Cut to a bleary-eyed Steve sitting up and waving at the camera.

“Just know that if you give me food poisoning on top of the flu, I’ll never forgive you,” he says as Eddie is handing him the bowl. “Why’re there potatoes in here?”

“No reason,” Eddie smiles back innocently at the look Steve gives him before he takes a bite, and then another. Eddie watches, nibbling in his fingernails.

“Oh shit,”

“What?”

“The potato actually makes it better,” he looks like he’s trying to sound annoyed but the smile on his face gives him away. “I’m gonna have to add potatoes to the recipe,”

“Wait. Does that mean my soup is better than yours?”

“It’s still my recipe, Munson,”

“You’re avoiding the question, Harrington,”

“…Maybe?”

Eddie throws his hands up whopping and his sleeve smacks Steve in the face.

———

“I was standing there, Morticia-less,” Robin is back and the three of them huddle in the sofa in the darkness of the living room, the only source of light is the movie no one is actually watching.

“—and she’s was wearing that Kate Bush bat dress and we were like ‘that’s close enough’ and then we completely winged a little dance and I only tripped on my own shoe once, you should be proud of me,” Robin is wearing a sash that says ‘Hideout King’ and is going a mile a minute about the party she came back from.

“And then she kissed me when they announced us as the winners, she kissed me Steve!” Robin shakes Steve and then high-fives Eddie so hard he almost falls off the couch.

———

Robin is filming Steve launching candy corn from the couch and Eddie, now in his jammies, is on the other side of the coffee table trying to catch them in his mouth. Steve’s laughter is getting increasingly hysterical and his aim is getting poorer while Eddie practically dives left and right trying catch the candy. Steve looks like he’s going to fall off the couch in stitches. The video ends as three are celebrating a complicated twist dive Eddie executed and successfully caught the candy with in mouth.

———

Caption says:

@_eddie_munson who do you think edits all the footage?

———

Comments:

user80085: who else questioning their sexuality rn?

Dustin H: RIP Betty, you will be missed 😔

Reefing Rick: Why tf don’t I have an Eddie Munson in a Morticia Addams costume cooking in my kitchen? God really has favorites huh

spring roll: So no ones going to talk about how Robin basically came out?

Gayby replying to spring roll: good for her

———

Part 4

———

A/n: it’s so funny to imagine Steve sitting in his room alone and reviewing an hour-long footage of Eddie messing around in the kitchen. And it cracks him up that every time Eddie messes something up he walks up to the camera and whispers ‘don’t tell Steve’

Steddie tag list: @deehellcat @eddiemunsonswife @missarte-beltane @grtwdsmwhr @kit-means-death

[sofiharper]

It's not mine, it's something ancient I dug up from my saves. …

It's exactly what I miss about the-- in the current generation of fandoms. Comfort, adequacy.

The blackness, the “psychology”, the transference of personal experience to fictional characters who always have exaggerated personalities that can't be the norm in reality. I have said to myself many times, I may just be unlucky, no matter how I filter content, the filter ignores me. But it seems to me that it's not about luck, it's about what girls in the current generation and time, now the most like (I take girls, because first of all, it is they who spoil this or that fandom.). Whining, moralizing, and sex. (Clarification. I know it's always been there, but not in quantity, as if adequate content has become a hundred times less. It's becoming not something common, but a diamond amongst the shit. And it hasn't been this absurd before.. Now I just want to cry from the current absurdity, not laugh like I used to. Especially when they start teaching life or proving that their sick fantasy is correct and canon. Spitting on the fact that only the creator himself has canon, not the fans. And I'm no saint myself. I have my dark ideas, but personal is still personal. And I'm not going to force my idea on everyone so that you start considering it canon because I like it).

Yes, these are my personal problems, but I almost never post openly in groups like this, so today I decided to slack off. It's not the first day, week or even month that I've been trying to ignore it all. I've started isolating myself on the internet, as silly as it sounds. I'm trying to train myself to just put the work out there and not sit on one social media or another. Not to sit in groups where there can be a fight when it seems like they're in the same boat. Well, and trying to adjust my brain to really accept what's going on right now, because there's nothing I can do about it anyway. It's just a matter of seeing where it goes. It'll be easier if I start being indifferent to everything. (I'm disappointed in myself for reacting so emotionally. I just tend to keep a lot of things quiet. I only tell only those with whom I have good communication. But even then not always, because I don't want to bother with this stupid topic, even if it seriously destroys me morally.) In general, this is the reason why I not only began to burn out quickly and strongly in creativity, but also in communication, even if the conversation is about something pleasant and comfortable. I've started doing some exercises, I don't know if they'll help or not. To make it easier to observe where “interest” falls in fandoms.

Yeah, I'm not a stressed out person, as it turns out.

But that doesn't mean I'm gonna give up on everything. I'm going to get out of this state of mine.

[aizenat]

I was watching this woman who does child free content on yt, and she was showing clips of a woman on tik tok who was complaining about some family vlogger influencers (because that’s somehow still a thing in 2024 apparently) on ig who went on a cruise and apparently went to have dinner after the kids went to sleep so they could have a romantic night alone. They had baby monitors and nothing actually happened, but the internet does what it always does and this girl is just moralizing about all the could be dangers that COULD have happened in a worst case scenario because god forbid people don’t live their lives with crippling anxiety constantly planning and expecting the worst thing to happen at all times (not defending the couple but girl nothing happened just shut the fuck up).

And I had this thought I’ve been having a lot where I’m thinking this woman who I’m watching react to this girl’s tik tok (a supposed journalist lol) is wasting her time watching a girl waste her time making tik tok after tik tok moralizing about a couple she doesn’t know doing something that wasn’t the smartest but led to no issues, bitching about this couple sharing their stupid lives online.

And like I just thought to myself “why does this girl on tik tok care so much about this couple to make all these videos faking concern about these kids that are fine? Why is this YouTuber wasting her time reacting to this girl making tik toks about a family neither of them know and how they raise their kids? Why is this couple able to get enough people watching them vlog their lives that they can afford a nice cruise (and apparently make enough to afford a hypothetical nanny for the kids so they wouldn’t have to leave them alone sleeping in the rooms just for a date night, according to critics), and enough attention to get major backlash for doing something I’m sure most of our own parents did at least once or twice.”

Like truly, what does ANY of this matter? I don’t know ANY of these ppl I’m engaging with. I don’t care about family vloggers: I find them all reprehensible. I don’t care about some random white woman’s moralizing on another couple not being perfect parents like she thinks all parents should be. I don’t even understand why the child free content creator was even commenting on the drama. Like what was the point? Don’t have children so you can have date nights without worrying about kids?

Like who cares? Why are we all so obsessed with other people’s lives? People we don’t know, will never know, who will get canceled in a few years for something (if they’re lucky enough to last that long) just to do it all over again with a new influencer. That south Asian ray guy was the most popular YouTuber and and then it was pewdiepie then one of the Paul brothers then dream then Mr beast and he’s getting canceled now so it’ll be someone new this time next year.

Again and again the cycle goes and what do any of us get out of it? Are we better people for it? Are we even entertained? Why does ANY of this shit matter? Truly?

Idk how corny or eye roll inducing it is to say this but the entire internet, and most of modern media, has become a literal virtual reality matrix that we’re all acting like we have to participate in. You don’t go online, you miss all the news. Everyone from boomers to gen x to millennials to gen z to gen alpha don’t know how to connect to people without it. At my last job, my coworkers would bond over memes they’d share on fb or send each other snapchats or tik toks and constantly reference them. And because I’m not on the sites, I was literally missing out. And when I’d ask them to send things to our group chat so I could enjoy the fun, they just ignored me.

In today’s world, if you’re not plugged into the matrix, you pretty much don’t exist. It’s a red flag if ppl can’t find social media on you. YouTube commentary videos don’t even introduce players in drama because they assume you already know who they’re talking about for some reason. I’m expected to know all the latest tik tok influencers and streamers and podcasters and all the other mundane morons taking up space online. Why? Why do I need to know any of them just to keep up? Truly? Why?

Meanwhile, no one knows how our government work to organize effectively (looking at the faux “pro Palestine” ppl protesting the dnc without any fucking real plan all while ignoring that three of the most progressive and pro Palestinian representatives were up for reelection and let two of them LOSE their reelection bid, pulling more pro Palestinian voices away from congress; as well as ANYONE telling people to not vote or vote third party in November), no one seems to care that we’re living through a major environmental catastrophe, NO ONE READS, art is literally dying thanks to corporate greed, men are gearing up for a major anti feminist backlash that I’m afraid no woman under 30 is quite prepared to fight against, and no one can afford to live a happy and comfortable life.

But I have to care about stupid influencers being stupid online for stupid amounts of money because everyone is chasing a bag instead of working to make the world a better place.

I’m genuinely hitting a limit. Not in the manosphere way, but I’m seriously taking the red pill and getting the fuck out. This online world is just so bleak and miserable. I can’t deal with this shit anymore. It’s burning me out and I’m exhausted by it all. I genuinely just need out. Completely and fully. I’m so completely done.

[8bitsupervillain]

Higurashi When They Cry Hou Ch. 5 Meakashi pt. 12

With some of the more recent chapters I do occasionally think about uploading my various screenshot folders for the individual chapters up onto google drive, or similar. So that way you can see what I skip over if you're really curious

For instance, Shion and Ooishi have themselves a lengthy chat about Satoshi's disappearance. Which then cuts to Kasai and Shion, having a chat about the person who they say killed Satoshi's aunt, before cutting back to another lengthy section of Shion and Ooishi jawjacking about the confessed killer, and Satoshi's disappearance.

Shion then does some research into Oyashiro and the nature of the curse in the Okinomiya library where she meets Miyo Takano, and the two talk about the nature of Onigafuchi, Oyashiro's curse, and the disappearances therein. Shion had evidently not clocked the notion that when someone dies, someone else seems to disappear, which seems at odds with prior narration, but still. Shion then goes back to her apartment and gets a visit from Mion. The two share some cheesecake and talk about Shion's penance. And then:

This, I feel confirms my suspicions about the Shion/Mion mystery from the end of Watanagashi. Shion is acting a lot more violent and aggressive compared to the shrieking woman in peril she was claimed to be when she had Keiichi at her mercy towards the end of that chapter.

Considering the way Shion has reacted in an aggressive violent manner this scene convinced me that the earlier times when "Mion" was acting incredibly violently were in fact Shion. After all, this chapter has gone to considerable length to establish that Shion has a deep grudge against Oryou, at the very least, and has a less than good view of Mion. So it wouldn't surprise me to learn by the end of Meakashi that everything that happened when the bodies started cropping up was entirely Shions doing. I'm open to the idea of this all being a deception to show how Mion is actually the crazed demonic killer that Watanagashi claims she is, especially when it shows just how easily cowed she can be. But at the moment I'm willing to accept the idea that Shion's behind it all. The Why is all I'm missing, because I don't think she would have enacted the whole plan just because Satoshi vanished.

I like to think these TIPS were just put in there to be like "yes, we're skipping back to 1983," and not have to just keep rehashing information it's given up repeatedly. You think anyone at the Comiket, or whatever convention these originally sold at just bought the newest one and dived in completely unaware of the larger ongoing narrative?

Like they just saw this cover with the green-haired anime girl with a knife, went ooh, and bought it without knowing the first thing about it? How confused do you reckon they were? Or do you think they were able to get by without being too terribly lost?

As an aside, looking for even just the original box art is rough. The internet generally has a problem with just dumping out spoilers you know? As an additional aside, Higurashi the shmup? That's a thing that exists apparently, which doesn't surprise me, as well as an ebay listing for an alleged Higurashi fighting game.

Getting back on topic.

We're back to 1983! Everything's gonna be great forever!

I like to imagine this particular set of biker delinquents just get their bikes kicked over all the time. Everywhere they go, someone just knocks em out. So it's basically a weekly occurrence someone screws with their bikes, they confront them and bam, crowd out of nowhere to hassle em out of town. Maybe in the final chapter of this series the embodiment of Oyashiro will knock over the motorcycles again, and the biker delinquents having enough of the universe's shit will beat up and take down Oyashiro. I can't believe I've just now accurately, and completely, predicted the end of the series.

Look at this dork ass. Most specifically his dumb little vest on the original art. Turning it into a tank-top was probably the right choice in the end. I was just struck by a terrible vision of the future. Because this seems to just be a retelling of Watanagashi this means there's a significant chance that this will make me go through the part with the otaku again. I really, really hope not. That was quite possible the worst part out of the entire series to read.

[bbygirl-aemond]

You may already be aware, but I actually found ppl going back and forth on Reddit about a post you'd made on here (re Viserys being a shite parent). It's under r/HouseOfTheDragon in case you ever wanted to check it out. I just recognized your name, as I follow you and it was shared as a screenshot from here.

lmao i will never get over how wild reposting on the internet actually is. that fucker has over a thousand comments and i had no idea until you told me just now! literally made a reddit account to try to add my voice to the din just to encourage people to discuss on the original platform so i can see but tbh people on reddit are a lot meaner than tumblr so i won't be mad if it doesn't get too many upvotes.

reddit's responses to this post is such an interesting case study in the polarization that's happening everywhere online. i get SO MANY accusations of being wildly biased from supporters of both "teams" all the time and it's funny because like am i too team green or too team black bc i can't be both right? mostly i think it's because people get really defensive when you criticize a character and assume it means you hate them. like bruh we are adults with big girl emotions can't it be a little more complex than that?

when i say i think viserys is a bad parent, i'm not saying it as team green propaganda. i've said before that rhaenyra is the rightful ruler and that i absolutely adore her as a character (let's just say aemond isn't my only babygirl). there's a reason i've written 100k+ words of fanfic designing a political scenario where she'll be able to happily rule without any of her children dying. spoiler alert: it's not because i hate her and think she's a bad ruler. and she's far from the only character on team black i love: daemon, jacaerys, lucerys, and baela all come to mind.

it's also really interesting to me that people see my opinion about viserys and, even though i literally did not mention rhaenyra, assume that i'm somehow shitting on her. it just goes to show how much they stand blindly by one team or another. that to criticize one member of their "team" feels to them like you're criticizing every member. like baby, i'm not the one making it about teams: you are! honestly, i understand why the team mentality was a good marketing move, but it really has been the death of critical thinking in this fandom. there are aspects of both that we're meant to root for, just as there are aspects of both we're meant to hate. none of these people are objectively morally good, and that's what makes it interesting, so why are we trying to pretend otherwise?

so while yes, i don't like viserys, why would i extend that dislike to rhaenyra? it's not like she forced him at gunpoint to do the things i'm criticizing him for lol. in fact, i think viserys did her just as dirty most of the time. i have another post in the works about this, but he neglected her for her entire childhood, groomed her best friend and dealt with telling her in the worst possible way, and made her heir in a bid for her affection yet did none of the actual work to honor her as a ruler. he could have made her his hand but instead he made her pour his wine?

now, again, just because we dislike part of something does not mean it's all bad. do i think viserys is generally quite a bad parent and person? absolutely. did i also cry ugly tears in the scene where he forces himself up from his literal deathbed to defend his daughter? yes. these two things can coexist.

also, because reddit is reddit, there are a bunch of comments that just miss my point about alicent and aemma entirely. i've already responded to those in a post here so i won't beat a dead horse too much. but to paraphrase: viserys married alicent because he liked her specifically not for duty or he would've married someone who wouldn't horrify the entire small council; and aemma didn't need to be alive and conscious for the pain she was put through at the end of her life. the things he did to his wives weren't necessary and i don't think we should be pretending they were.

lastly, it's really funny to me how many people incorrectly assumed i was a man in the comments. i'm genuinely the girliest girl to ever girl in real life (makeup jewelry and tits to the gods, sorority girly, the whole nine yards, i love it) and it gave me such whiplash. there's a joke to be made here about trying to weaponize male privilege somewhere.

[afpwestcoast]

Union Transfer, Philadelphia, 6/7/24

At the top of the show Amanda announced that she was having a very bad day and then proceeded to take out her frustrations during the performance, which was tinged throughout with angry undertones. The result was a show that was very high energy, but with some imperfections and tattered edges. As you’ll recall from my deriding the Portland show last December as “too perfect,” this is my preferred type of Dresden Dolls show. Like a high-wire artist who seems about to plummet to their death at any moment, but never does. Chef’s kiss!

Annotated Set List:

Good Day (Brian on guitar to start)

Gravity

Missed Me

Sex Changes

Backstabber

My Alcoholic Friends

During the lull between songs a woman in the audience yelled out “Hi!”

Amanda replied, “I’m too sad to talk … Let’s play the most ridiculous song we’ve ever learned, shall we?”

At this point an entire sketch ensued with Brian pretending to type on a laptop, then text on a phone, all the while being chastised by Amanda (been there, buddy!). “No texting. No typing. No communicating with anyone but MEee!”

Welcome to the Internet (Bo Burnham cover)

Ultima Esperanza

Amanda: “You know, the longer I do this fucking job the more I wonder if I need this more than you do. I’m just lucky cuz I get paid.”

Brian: “You would do this if you DIDN’T get paid.”

Amanda: “I would still do this if I didn’t get paid.

Delilah (featuring Veronica Swift)

Amanda: “We’re working on a new record. We might only ever play it tonight. And start working on it again next month with a new batch of songs. Cuz we’ve now done that twice.”

Brian: “YEP!”

Amanda: “I’m not joking.”

Mister God

Veronica Swift appeared next to me and said, “I never get to see the show from here.” She hung out and danced with us for a bit.

Houdini

While talking about getting stuck in New Zealand during COVID Amanda mentioned Philadelphia-based photographer Kyle Cassidy, who was the principal photographer for the Who Killed Amanda Palmer book, and was in attendance. She said that Kyle had created a book of photos of front-line nurses during COVID. “It’s like one of the most stunning and heartbreaking things I’ve ever seen, and no one wants to publish it. Because no one wants to see pictures of COVID right now; everyone’s still fucked as far as I’m concerned.”

Whakenewha

Another Christmas

Amsterdam (Jacques Brel cover) Amanda headed up to the balcony and Brian came out front with his guitar, as is tradition.

Mandy Goes to Med School (Brian on guitar to star) They were very playful with this one tonight, which was fun. “Sometimes I feel like songs can be kind of curse. Sometimes art can be kind of a curse. Like having a gift - like being a really gifted musician - you kinda can’t not do it, or you feel like you’re wasting your time. … This is the song that I’m proudest of. I think this is the song that scares the shit out of me the most. Which probably means it’s good.”

The Runner In the final verse she replaced “a lover,” with “the lover,” indicating that it was the same person from the first verse (which is true). This subtle change made the song even more powerful.

The Nail (Amanda on synth)

Mrs. O - ABORT! They had not made it through the intro when Amanda stopped and said the tempo was too fast. Brian asked if she wanted to start over from the beginning, but Amanda said they should take a request. It had recently been announced that The University of the Arts, a Philadelphia institution, was closing down. There were several people in the audience who were enrolled and were basically left holding the bag. So Amanda asked for a request from Ginger, one of the students impacted, and the result was …

Bad Habit The band hadn’t played this one in months, but Amanda adopted a “Fuck it” attitude and powered through with no regard to flubs and forgotten lyrics. This is my favorite Dresden Dolls mode!

Coin-Operated Boy After the line “I can even fuck him in the ass” Amanda yelled out, “Happy Pride!”

War Pigs (Black Sabbath cover)

——

Girl Anachronism Things started innocently enough with a tinkling piano version of ‘Call to the Post,’ the traditional bugle call used before a horse race, but soon enough the traditional count of “One! Two! ONE TWO FUCK YOU!!” was bellowed and we were truly off to the races.

Afterwards someone in the crowd asked if Amanda’s night was going better now and the answer was a resounding YES!

Photo Gallery:

Amanda Palmer

Brian Viglione. I like how the lower right image captures Brian’s power and kinetic energy.

Veronica Swift on Delilah.

Another Christmas

Amsterdam

Best drummer in the world!

The Dresden Dolls, ladies and gentlemen!