#butchered you like that I can't draw buildings

[arttsuka]

wait larry is played by ben stiller who was also derek zoolander 🤣🤣🤣

larry: *sees octavius's tiny roman temple* "what is this?! a temple for ANTS?!"

Sorry anon I couldn't bring myself to draw Larry destroying the Roman diorama. He just looks down on it instead.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 8: It’s Still Not A Date

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary:  When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you neve expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you're around him the more you hate him, but you can't help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team.  (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!) Soldier Boy calls the reader Petals.

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

Word Count: 8.4K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), Super creepy dude (it's not Soldier Boy), sexism (it's Soldier Boy), swearing, Denial of feelings, mentions of sex, sexual innuendo, sexual tension. Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

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

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

"What?" You ask for the hundredth time as you catch Ben glancing over at you from the driver's seat.

Street lights flicker on the outside of car, rigid lines of the buildings softened by the speed as he maneuvers the vehicle through the crowded Saturday night traffic.

He was driving, obviously, because when you'd tried to take the keys, Ben had snatched them away and stated "women can't drive" to which you'd responded "I’m not going to be told that I can’t drive by someone who was born before the invention of the wheel.”

Ben looks back out the windshield that’s bathed in a red glow from the stop light above. “Nothing.”

The color of the light cuts through the shadows in the car,  dramatizing Ben's proud nose and sharp jaw, catching on the lapels of his coat and making him look like a creature that rose from the sea when a god fell into the depths.

Again it reminded you of all the classical literature you'd read in high school and your first year of college, finally understanding what poets wrote about when they described true beauty, and thinking that the fall of man might not have been from pride but rather man fell for beauty such as this, the beauty that Ben possessed.

When you'd first met him, you'd thought that it was a proud beauty, a haughtiness that Ben had because he knew exactly how good he looked and he expected people to worship that, to bend over backwards for him, but now you weren't sure. Yes, Ben knew how attractive he was. And yes, Ben was Ben, but with you sometimes you weren't sure. The moments you spent on your couch when he asked you about your father or when he asked you how your day was or when he indulged your ridiculous request to try out couches at IKEA or when he thought to buy you coffee or when he sat outside your bathroom just to hear you sing you didn't see the haughtiness, didn't see the pride, didn't the anger, and you didn't see the version of Soldier Boy that you'd seen in clips and photos from the past, you saw someone different, someone real.

“You’ve said 'nothing' seventeen times.”

“I have not.” His eyes flick to yours once more, annoyance pulling his mouth down into an attractive frown.

“What is it? Do I have something on my face? Did Annie draw a mustache on it?” You reach for the visor to look at yourself in the mirror again. "Because she did that one time when we had a sleepover in middle school and she didn't tell me until we got through second period."

"She drew a mustache on you?"

"Yes. To be fair I had drawn a mustache on her the week before, but I didn't use a permanent marker."

"How long have the two of you been friends?" Ben asks slowly.

"Since elementary school." You examine your face in the mirror. You always had a habit of smudging your mascara or your lipstick whenever you wore it. It wasn’t that you meant to, it was that each time you legitimately forgot you were wearing it. But your face is devoid of anything abnormal. You still looked the same as you did when you left the apartment, dark lipstick, smoky eyeshadow, contoured cheeks, and you didn’t see why he kept looking at you. "We grew up in a small town and we were the only two supes in our class. The other kids thought we were freaks, used to make up jeers, there was also something about cooties, but I think I've repressed it."

"Fucking dicks." Ben mutters.

"It's okay. I didn't really care and I had Annie. Would have been worse if it was just me." You shake your head to focus back on what you'd asked Ben before. "But what is it?"

“Nothing. It’s just-“ Ben clears his throat turning again to look out the front windshield as the light turns green. “I’ve never seen you wear anything like that before.”

“Well it’s not exactly my style. Could you see me sitting in the dirt messing with plants and potting soil in something like this?” You snort at the image. "Overalls and jeans seem to be more durable and sustainable for my lifestyle. Not to mention cheaper." You'd seen the price tag on the dress that you were wearing, something that Frenchie said "fell off a truck."

“It should be.”

“What?”

“I mean-“ He shrugs looking away from you. “As much as I’d like you to walk around wearing nothing at all sweetheart, I think you should wear things like that more often.”

"And why is that?"

"You look nice."

"Are you saying that I don't look nice all the time?" You tease him, forcing yourself to frown. It was difficult when you could  feel your body warming from the inside out with his compliment. "That I'm some terrible slumpy mess-"

"No I- I just meant that you-" Ben clears his throat again, his hands tightening on the wheel as he searches for the right thing to say. “Why can't you just take the fucking compliment I-" Ben says, almost sounding a little angry.

"I'm just messing with you Ben."

“Oh.” He lets out an awkward chuckle.

Sometimes you thought that it was cute and almost a little endearing that Ben didn't understand sarcasm or social cues from the new century, it made you feel like it was up to you to educate him on things like that.  Not that it was a burden, it never felt like a burden to show Ben how to use things or introduce him to the wonders of 2024.

Not to mention you liked how Ben was a little bit old-fashioned about some things, like how he actually got a physical copy of the newspaper every morning and took the time to read it, or how he wasn't on his phone as often as everyone else was or how Ben actually seemed to pay attention when you talked to him. That last one was always surprising, you'd thought that given how eager Ben was to get into your pants he'd only be focused on that. But when you spoke, Ben's eyes never glazed over or darted to his phone as if he secretly wished for you to stop, Ben genuinely listened to you when you spoke to him. Not to mention he gave you an incredible amount of eye contact that you weren't used to receiving from other people living in this century.

"Thank you." You fold your hands in your lap, thinking about the compliment Ben just gave you. "You know, I-" You hesitate.

I can't believe I'm about to admit this out loud to him.

"I don’t think you look too bad yourself." You finish.

Deep down you really hoped that the music earlier had been enough to cover the conversation you had with Annie back at the apartment. In that conversation you'd admitted that you found him attractive, and you didn't want him to know that. Well, know that you actually admitted it aloud. He already had fun making you squirm whenever he brought up the subject of sex.

"Thanks Petals. Keep buttering me up like that and I'll give you a preview of what I've got under this." Ben winks at you.

"I don't think I need to see your unicorn underwear, thank you." You roll your eyes and stare out the window watching the buildings fade into a dark blur in shades of gray and black. "Or your Strawberry Shortcake Tattoo."

"My what?"

"Nothing."

"I don't have any tattoos sweetheart." Ben pauses as if considering. "If you want I'll let you strip search me when we get back home. I think that would be quite educational for you. You know? Seeing exactly what a real man should look like."

"Can we focus on the mission?" Your cheeks heat, but for some reason you couldn't stop thinking about the word 'home.' Ben had never called your apartment that before, he'd called it "our apartment" but never home. It was weird to hear him say it and weirder still was how it made something in your chest tighten.

But you ascribed that to the dress. The ridiculous dress that you weren't sure how on earth you were going to chase down another supe in and the same dress that was only held on to your body by a small sliver of fabric at the back of your neck and seemed so fragile that you feared it would rip when you breathed.

"I'd rather focus on exactly what you've got on under that dress baby."

"Use your imagination." You roll your eyes at him.

"Oh I am. Trust me. But I think that the real thing would be much more satisfying Petals."

Ben eases the car into a space down the street from the party, but close enough that you could hear the classical music, the chatter of the crowd, and see the bright lights. As you get out of the car, Ben flashes around the front to open the door for you.

You blink up at him in surprise as he takes your hand to help you out, and you let him without a second thought. No one had ever done that for you before, even your high school boyfriend who never made the effort to get out of the car, let alone walk you to the door after a date. You weren't expecting him to do that for you.

"Oh. Thank you." But when you join him on the sidewalk, Ben doesn't let go of your hand. You're dangerously close to him, closer to him than you were in the car. The wind picks up behind him rustling through his hair and sends the smell of his shampoo and cologne washing over you in a wave that makes you feel like your chest is unraveling.

Ben's gaze darkens as he stares down at you, and he steps forward, pinning you against the side of Butcher's car.

"Ben what are you doing?" You croak, unable to find your full voice, not when your throat felt like it was closing.

"Come on. You really want to go to that stuffy party Petals?" He purrs, smiling down at you. His hand was toying with the fabric of your dress, at the top of the slit that was just barely above your mid-left thigh

“Ben-“ Your jaw clenches tight, but the feeling of his hand beginning to slide against your skin, pushing the fabric of the dress aside, makes electricity trail with his touch.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. No.

The look in his eyes is all consuming, turning his eyes into two liquid pools of a jade colored sea that beckons you forward, highlighting the golden flecks that sparkle and shine in the darkness.

Ben's smirk grows. “Are you really going to keep pretending that you don’t want me to fuck you? Your cheeks are flushed, your heart is beating faster just like it always does whenever I’m around-“ He leans forward and presses a kiss to the side of your neck making an involuntarily shudder roll through you like a clap of thunder. “That’s my girl.”

It would be so easy to give in. To let him take you back to the apartment, to let him have you like he'd wanted from the first moment you met.

As the thought of giving in begins to peel back your inhibitions, a memory floats up from the darkness.

It's your parents, dancing in the kitchen when they thought Darren and you were asleep. Soft light illuminates the kitchen from candles that cover the counter tops and flicker in the air conditioning. The soft tone of "Gonna Sing You My Love Song" is playing, while they sway together and your father looks down at your mother like she's his whole world, singing to her the lyrics with his whole heart. You could still hear his deep voice finding the words and could see your mother smiling radiantly at him.

The memory is gone as soon as it comes, but it reminds you of what you want, that you want love and you didn't want to waste your time with someone who would only pretend to care for one night.

I have a job to do. And I don’t want this- well… I don’t want it all that much.

You think about what Annie and Hughie have, how they tell each other everything, how Hughie listens to what she wants and brings her flowers just because he was thinking of her. It made your heart ache to think about their relationship and to think of your parents again, but you knew that it was what you wanted more than anything in the world. You wanted someone who understood, who wished to be with you not because he wanted to possess you, but because he loved you and wanted to share his love with you and wanted to be loved by you.

"No." You say, pushing back on Ben's chest. He doesn't move much, but he does drop his hand from dress.

“Why not?” He snaps eyes no longer jade pools, but now a blazing emerald "I don't understand you Petals-"

"That's not special Ben, loads of people don't understand me."

"Do you have any idea how many women would love to be where you are? How many women have begged me to-"

"To fuck them?" You tap your lip thoughtfully. "Now that you mention it, I realized that you haven't said that to me today so naturally I forgot. And I really don't want to rehash this now!"

“I want to.” His eyes blaze with anger. “I don’t understand. You flirt with me, tell me that you find me attractive-"

"I was being nice! You told me I looked nice. That's what you do when someone compliments you. And I do not  flirt with you."

"Yes you do!"

"No I don't." You shout. "I've told you before that I don't want to have sex with you."

He runs his hand through his hair in frustration. “We both know that’s a fucking lie. So why not? Do you think it’s going to be bad? Because I can guarantee that anything we do together will be fucking fantastic. Is it because you hate me? Because hate sex is pretty satisfying. Or do you think that I'm going to lose control or something or not take care of what you need? Because I’m pretty damn attentive!”

"For the last time, I don't fucking hate you Ben I just-" Your teeth clench together in anger.

A couple in nicely dressed clothes walk by, eyeing Ben and you with wide eyes and reminding you exactly why  you're here.

"Beautiful night isn't it?" You nod your head in their direction awkwardly with the words, before you take a deep breath. "Look this is not the time or the place. We are on a mission and if you don’t want to come to the party, that's fine, I can handle the supe on my own.”

You push past him and begin to walk down the sidewalk a brisk pace, hoping that he will just leave. Because now you were getting pissed off and frustrated. You didn't understand why you had to keep having this conversation with him.

I have told him several times that I don't want to sleep with him. I haven't flirted with him. I don't think I've led him on in any way.

A part of you wasn't annoyed because of the many times that he had come on to you, it was annoyed because of the moments that Ben would act differently, when he acted like a man you could see yourself falling in love with. It made you feel like he was just jerking you around and trying to pretend so you would  give in, like this whole thing was his big scheme to get into your pants.

“I just don’t understand you Petals.” He grumbles as he catches up.

“You’ve been saying that since we first met Gramps.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Whatever you say Macho Macho Man.” You reply, but then the wind picks up again and you can smell his cologne transporting you back to a few moments ago when his hand pushed back your dress and you felt the scratch of his stubble against the skin of your neck and it felt like you had swallowed lightning. It quickly took you back to the moment when he kissed you outside of your apartment the first night he'd stayed with you, how he curved his body around you, and moved his mouth against yours, sliding his tongue past your bottom lip and-

“See you’re doing it again.” Ben is staring at you, noticing the flush that travels from your cheeks and creeps to your ears. “Just admit that you want to have sex with me.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

And then you lose it, wheeling on him, poking your finger into his muscular chest.

 “Because then what?" You spit and Ben's eyes widen in surprise. "You fuck me once, leave right after and never talk to me ever again? You fuck women then throw them away. You don’t see sex as something special, you see it as a way to let off steam,  to justify your existence, and to make yourself feel good about you.” Every syllable is coupled with a finger poking into his chest.  "You only want me because you can't have me. I understand that you have this fascination with me now, but as soon as I give in, you won't care." You say it to enforce the idea in my own mind, to gain control of your hormones and push away the memories of Ben and you together.

"You don't know that." There's something on the edge of his voice that you can't place.

"Yes. I do."

"How?"

"Because I've seen the evidence!"

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"Let's brainstorm for a minute." You hold up a hand to stop him. "Who was it that founded Herogasm?"

"Me?"

"Who was it that got Tinder as soon as he got back to America?"

"It wasn't as soon as I got back it was at least a week later-"

"Ben, I want to have sex with someone I love. Not just a quick fuck for five minutes in Butcher's car, or a romp in the shower, or just to 'loosen up'. Okay?" You swallow the lump in your throat. "And I won't do that to myself, have feelings for you, and sleep with you, only to have you throw me away."

Ben blinks and you watch something cross through his gaze that you'd never seen before. "I'd never throw you away Y/n." He says it softly, just barely audible over the sounds of the city.

"You say that now, but as soon as I give in, it won't matter." You clear your throat. "Now I'm going to go to this party, you can do whatever you want, but please just let me do my job."

And then you walk away from him and into the flashing lights and soft classical music that does little to stop the pounding of your heart and the lump of emotion stuck in the back of your throat.

You haven't seen Ben in exactly twenty seven minutes.

In the first seven minutes of your dramatic exit and entrance into the party you had slipped into the bathroom and cried. Why you were crying you weren't exactly sure. Maybe it was the tidal wave of emotion or just the way that your blood was pumping and your heart felt like it would break free and take flight, but you did. And when you emerged from the stall with blood shot eyes and smeared makeup you redid it all the best you could in the bathroom mirror, using the emergency kit that Annie had given you.

Of course you couldn't take all the credit, there was an elderly woman in a navy blue dress in the bathroom who practically witnessed your mental break down and when she saw you struggling to do your make up she helped and more importantly did not ask any questions.  She did however say that if you pointed out exactly who it was who did this to you that she would go "make them wish that they were never born." You were tempted to watch this woman kick Ben's ass, but you'd only thanked her and went out to join the party.

The people were dressed elegantly, sipping champagne from crystal glasses and munching spinach puffs so good you were sure that Kronk was in the back making them and apple tarts that were so mind blowing you were sure that Lorelei Gilmore was somewhere stealing a tray. You were disappointed that you hadn't brought a bigger purse, because the spinach puffs were practically orgasmic and you'd only been able to shove three in alongside four apple tarts. Not to mention that there was so much free merchandise and party favors it meant that you now had a new iPad, a tennis bracelet, a watch with a crystal face, an expensive bottle of champagne and several bottles of perfume that smelled so rich it made your head spin. You were contemplating somehow smuggling out another gift bag so you could sell the iPad on eBay when you feel your phone vibrate in your clutch.

You were expecting it to be Butcher. He had been more about low tech tonight, not relying on radio contact too much, just texting and phone calls for emergencies. Not to mention Butcher had as much patience as a child who was told to wait until after dinner to have a fresh baked chocolate chip cookie.

But it's not Butcher's name that lights up on the screen, it's Annie.

Annie : So how’s the date going?

You pause for a moment and you think about telling her everything that happened in the past twenty seven minutes. You had wanted to call her when you were crying in the bathroom, but you didn't know what to say, didn't understand why you were crying.

I'll tell her later, over wine, because I'm going to need a lot of wine after tonight. You sigh again as the memory of what you yelled at Ben rings in your ears. You didn't know why you felt this way, you'd told him the truth  if anything you should feel relieved, but… Maybe I should apologize-

You shake your head. No. I won't apologize, it was him pressing all my buttons and trying to get me to… Right. I gotta answer Annie.

You: It’s not a date!

Her response is immediate.

Annie: Sure… tell Ben to get you home by 10.

You: I’m disowning you as a best friend.

Annie: Well when you reinstate me as a best friend, I want all the dirty details.

You: There aren’t going to be any dirty details!

Because I had a fucking mental breakdown, unloaded all my feelings on a man who keeps telling me that he wants to fuck me, and is probably mentally compartmentalizing all his possessions and is going to be moved out by the time I get back home.

Annie: And when you guys finally have sex, know that I am ready to be an aunty and I am ready to help you raise super-baby. It's going to be so much fun!

"Oh for the love of-" You begin to let out a string of colorful curses just as someone bumps into you. You raise your eyes to stare at the man.

He's taller than you, at least six feet and built like a body builder, with graying black curls swept back over his head, sun kissed golden skin, and wearing a perfectly black tailored suit, a crisp white shirt and a navy blue tie, all of which oozes wealth, . There's a hint of a shadow along his strong jaw that gives him a masculine quality to offset the fancy clothes, but emphasizes a long scar that hooks over the left side of his chin and drags down to his neck. His nose has been broken in the past, but still has a curved hook and his eyes are a deep amber brown almost a maple that hold humor and curiosity.

"I'm sorry." The man's voice is low, almost a little raspy, with a hint of an accent that you can't place. He's attractive, fit, and probably close to mid-forties, early fifties. You recognize him as the man running for City Comp Troller, the person whose party you were crashing.

"It's okay." You force a smile, shoving your phone back into your purse, trying not to smoosh the spinach puffs and apple tarts.

"I'm Elijah Black." He holds out his hand to shake yours, his brown eyes lazily tracing up and down your figure as he does.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, alarm bells go off. Something about this man seems wrong, sinister, almost predatory. His hand is soft, surprising giving his imposing figure and stature, and the action of him shaking yours causes his shirt to pull away from his throat revealing just the kiss of black ink that arches over his collar bone, but vanishes in an unknown pattern beneath his white shirt. "And you are?"

"I'm Lisette Worthington." You say the fake name confidently, throwing a shy smile in his direction. "It's alright I was in the way-"

"And very angry at someone." Elijah adds with a smile.

"Yeah,-um- my friend is trying to get back together with her verbally abusive ex. She won't listen to me when I tell her not to." The lie comes easily.

"Pity. I always listen to my friends." He smiles wider, still holding on to your hand, even though you've let go of his. "Especially if they're as pretty as you."

"Oh -um- that's sweet." You answer with an awkward laugh looking for a way out of this. You tug your hand, but he doesn’t release it.

At that exact moment, Ben's arm comes around your waist and he pulls you back into his muscular chest, eyes locking with Elijah.

"Sorry I was gone for so long sweetheart." He says loudly so Elijah can hear him, tightening his grip on your waist. Ben places a kiss just behind your right ear as he does so as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. And you fight the warmth that blooms ebbs beneath the surface of your skin when he does.

Despite everything that happened outside you were relieved that Ben was here with you, because Elijah was creepy and Ben always made you feel safe. And despite his constant attempts to get into your pants a part of you trusted that Ben would have your back.

Elijah's eyes flick down to yours as if waiting for you to confirm the fact.

"It's alright babe." You smile up at Ben, leaning in to him and allow yourself to lay your free arm over where it's resting on your waist. Your thumb strokes back and forth over the back of his hand as you do. And for a moment Ben doesn’t look away from your face, something passing through his eyes that you can’t place.

Ben's gaze flicks back to where Elijah is still grasping your other hand. "You gonna drop my girl's hand or are we going to have a problem?"

You flush when Ben uses the words 'my girl' and are thankful that Ben's back is to the large red, white, and blue display of flowers on the table behind him that begins to shed it's flowers and come back ten-fold in even brighter shades of color. Elijah's eyes flick to the display confused momentarily, before sliding back over you.

"Apologies." Elijah lets go of you, but doesn't back away. "I just wanted to get to know her a little better." You don't like the way his eyes trace over your figure as he says it. "You know, it might be considered rude to keep someone like her all to yourself."

"Just like I'd consider it rude for someone to make a move on someone who belongs to someone else." Ben retorts, emphasizing the word "belongs" in a way that makes it suddenly very hard to breathe.

You can hear Ben's jaw clench together, his body tensing behind you slightly, and feel it warm a few degrees as he begins to lose his temper. You can feel the tension traveling through his body and to calm him down you do the one thing that always helps you, you squeeze his hand where it rests on your hip, trying to tell him that it's okay.

Elijah's mouth turns up, eyes glimmering in amusement at Ben.

"But thanks for keeping her company, I can take it from here.” Ben's voice is cold and humorless.

"Of course. I'd hate to leave a beautiful woman like her for even a moment. You’re very lucky.” He smiles at Ben, who doesn't return it. "I'm sure I'll see you around Ms. Worthington. Don’t forget to vote.”  He emphasizes the name as if he knows it's not real, and has the audacity to wink before he vanishes into the crowd.

Ben holds on to you for another minute, eyes locked on the place where Elijah vanished, but he does not return. Ben’s arm is still wrapped around your waist, holding you to him so tight that you can feel each of his muscles beneath his suit and you fight to keep your heart beat under control and to fight the urge to blush all over again. Finally, he lets out a breath and releases you.

"Are you okay?" Ben looks down at you, his eyes filled with something that looks a lot like concern, surprising you.

Why is he worried about me?

"Yeah. Thanks."  You smile as you look at him, but it feels forced.

Ben nods once.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I did.” He states.

You blink at him confused.

“I didn’t like the way you looked when he started talking to you. Or when he wouldn’t let go of your hand.” His expression hardens, jaw tightening as if he's relieving the memory. "You looked like a deer in headlights Petals."

"I did?"

"Mhmm. Could hear your heartbeat from over there." Ben nods his head in the direction of the bar, where various couples scramble for liquid courage and waiter weave through the crowds holding fresh trays of spinach puffs and crab claws.

"Oh. Well, thanks again, he was very creepy." You bite the inside of your cheek in quiet contemplation thinking for a moment. "I mean some politicians are supposed to be that way, but he was definitely top ten of the creepiest men I've ever met in my life."

"Just promise me I'm not number one." Ben half-smiles, but there's something in his expression that makes you realize that he might not be joking.

"You're not on the list." You say it to reassure him.

"Really?"

You nod. “I -uh- haven’t seen you all night-“ You begin to say. It was true, you had no idea where Ben had gone when you'd had the "fight." If you were going to call it that.

“I was at the bar, getting a drink.”

“Oh.” You do an awkward shuffle with your feet, trying to think of some way to move the conversation along.

Why does this feel so awkward? Why does it feel like we broke up?

Ben doesn’t speak for a moment, instead he’s looking down at you with an unreadable expression. “Petals?” He says it quietly, the same way he said it the day when he told you he was going to buy the couch and you didn't have to worry about paying for it. He said it almost… reverently… not in a teasing way or in a harsh way, he said it in a way that made you feel your knees buckle a little.

“Yes?”

“I’d never-“ He clears his throat as if it’s difficult for him to say what comes next. He lets out a frustrated breath. “I’d never throw you away. I want you to know that.”

“Oh please Ben you don’t have to say that I-“

“No I'm not just saying that. I- I’m not some fucking monster.”

“I don’t think you are Ben. And you shouldn’t have to explain yourself or apologize.” You hold out your hands waving them in front of you.

“But-“

“No.” You shake your head and place your hand on his arm. “I shouldn’t have unloaded all that on you and I’m sorry. It wasn’t fair. And it's okay."

“What’s okay?”

“It’s okay that it’s not who you are. That you're not really one for relationships. And what I should have said is that, I’m not going to ask you to change or guilt you into doing something that you don’t want. It’s not the type of man you are.”

"What type of man am I?"

"Well you're just not a one woman kind of guy or really into relationships." You say it to clarify, but in your head this conversation is becoming as awkward as the one you had outside.

Ben is oddly quiet.

“But that’s okay.” You smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. "I meant to also say that, I really don't want to sleep with you because I don't want to make you change for me. That feels very cruel, to manipulate someone that way. For me to want more, to fall for you and you just change the way you are for me."

"Petals-" He's saying it softly again, the way that tugs at your heart.

"I promise I'm fine and I just want to move on. Pretend we didn't have that conversation, or really this one either," You laugh awkwardly. "Okay?"

Ben stands there in the silence, his mouth pulled down into a frown. "If that's what you really want."

"I do. So things can go back to normal?"

"Sure." He says it slowly.

"Good." You turn your head to look away into the crowd, feeling a little bit better, but at the same time you couldn't fight the wave of disappointment that pricked on the edges of your soul. You didn't know where it came from.

The people around you are still mingling with one another and you're trying not to notice how close Ben is standing to you, so close that you're practically against his chest, but there is a good inch of space between the two of you and you revel in it.

I will handle this because I have to. Ben has made it clear what he wants, and I have made it clear what I want and-

As you have the thought you think you see a flash of white in the crowd, the back of someone's head that you think you should know, but as you try to stand on tip toe to catch a glimpse of their face, they're gone.

That was weird. I mean it kinda looked like-

Ben's phone rings in his pocket and he answers it.

"Shit." Ben mutters. He grabs your wrist and tugs you through the crowd which parts easily out of the way of his broad form.

"What is it?"

"The supe is outside!"

Shit.

Ben and you burst through the front doors of the building, just as a hooded figure drives past going full speed in a fancy bright red convertible.

"Come on!" Ben shouts running towards one of the valet who is about to give the keys to a black sports-car idling by the curb to it's owner. Ben grabs the keys as he speeds by, sliding over the hood in his haste to get to the driver's side before you and you follow.

"Sorry! We'll bring it right back." You shout at the owner as you throw open passenger side and slide into the car, slamming it behind you.

But as you do, you realize that something's wrong… what you thought was the passenger side of the car is actually the driver's side.

Wow I was not expecting that.

You lock eyes with Ben who looks devastated by this turn of events.

You can't help the grin that splits your face as you start the car with a press of a button, remembering exactly what he said about women driving earlier. "European car bitch."

Ben looks murderous. "Hey wait a minute-"

"No time Gramps." You slam your foot down on the gas.

The purring of the engine turns into a roar as the car jolts forward in hot pursuit of the red convertible. You shift to a higher gear as you press down further on the gas.

"Oh for fucks sake."

"Calm down. I'm a great driver-" You look over at him.

"Eyes on the road! Fuck." Ben clutches on to the door handle so tight you think he's going to rip it off.

"Ben it's okay, don't have a cow."

"Truck."

"What?"

"THERE'S A FUCKING TRUCK!" Ben shouts reaching for the steering wheel as if he thinks he can drive over you, as a garbage truck backs out into the street.

"You're gonna get us into an accident!" You snap back swerving around the truck to follow after the supe.

"No I'm not! I'm going to fucking save us."

"Not with that attitude." You shift to another gear as you speed up to push through a red light.

The supe turns right in a wide arch cutting off the traffic coming from the left.

"Take a right!" Ben says.

"I have eyes Gramps! Stop backseat driving."

"I wouldn't have to if you'd let me switch with you!"

"Not a chance. We'd lose the supe." You jerk the wheel, feeling the car curve in a beautiful arch through the light. "Man when I get rich I am gonna get one of these."

You hear your phone buzzing in your purse and you start to pick it up, but Ben snatches it away. "No! Please for the love of God do not take your eyes off the road!"

"Fine. Answer it for me."

Ben reaches into your purse and stops. "Why the fuck do you have spinach puffs in here?"

"Because they were free and they were so good." You sigh, taking another sharp turn.

I have no idea where we are going or what we're going to do when we catch this guy.

The supe obviously knew that you were following after him, which meant that there was no way in hell he was going to go back to his chop shop.

If he was smart, he would lead us as far away from it as possible.

Ben hits the speakerphone button.

"Hello?" You sing-song.

"Where in the bloody hell are you?" Butcher shouts on the other side of the line.

"Well I'm not exactly sure. It’s dark. Ben can you read any of the street signs?" You say as you hit the gas, swerving around another car that enters the roadway in front of you, weaving through the oncoming traffic for a moment to get back behind the supe.

"OH HOLY FUCK!" Ben practically screams, one of his hands pressed against the dashboard, the other holding on to the door panel.

"Guess that's a no." Butcher says.

"Gramps is a little upset that I'm driving."

"How are you going to catch the supe?"

"Haven't gotten that far yet."

You watch the convertible take a sharp left down a small alley. "Hold on Ben."

"No No No No!" Ben rips the door handle off as you turn into oncoming traffic narrowly missing a dumpster to follow the supe.

"Holy shit!" You slam on the breaks as you see the convertible completely stopped and the supe standing there. He's wearing a dark sweatshirt that's pulled low over his head, a scarf wrapped around the lower half of his face, and he's glowing. Well, arcs of bright blue and white electricity weave around his body, crackling through the air around him.

Your eyes narrow as you sit there in the car, Ben glancing from the supe to you as if trying to decide whether or not he should throw himself from the vehicle.

You rev the engine and the supe tilts his head to the side as if daring you to come closer. You slam your foot down on the gas and the car jumps forward to ram into the supe, but just before it does, he shoots upward off the ground using his electricity to propel him to the rooftop above.

You slam the breaks, but the car smashes into the back of the convertible, deploying the airbags.

Well, guess I can't return it now.

Ben is already out of the car and you follow.

"Swing me up to the roof." He orders, loosening his tie.

"Who the fuck do I look like? Tarzan?" You respond looking around for a weed or a vine, but you don't see any.

Ben sighs in frustration and jumps as high as he can with his super strength, making it about half-way up the fire escape before he swings himself up all the way to the roof.

"Shit. Shit. Shit. What am I supposed to do?" You shout up at him, but Ben is already racing over the rooftops after the supe.

You grab your purse and your phone from the car, running out to the street and following the pulsing lights of what you assume must be electricity that get further and further away as Ben chases after the supe.

"What in the bloody fuck is going on?" Butcher roars through the phone as you run as fast as you can, stiletos clacking against the pavement, arms pumping. Your dress is whipping back behind you and you're sure that you're flashing pretty much everyone who passes by, but you're too focused on the supe.

"Well-" You gasp for air because the last time you ran this fast was in middle school when your neighbors doberman broke free and chased you around the neighborhood and no matter how many times Annie tried to get you to do cardio with her you'd rather die than run recreationally. "Soldier Boy is pursing the supe but he's -gasp- on the roof and I don't-"

You were going to say that you didn't have a way up there but then you remembered exactly what was in your purse.

Sacrifices must be made.

"Butcher just trace the call, I can't talk now." You don't end the call, instead you stuff your phone into your purse and remove one of the precious apple tarts. "Fuck I really wanted to eat you." You whisper longingly to the pastry in your hand. You take a bite and try not to moan aloud at the taste, before you pull your arm back to throw it, but then you stop and take one more bite.

I mean… this is a HUGE sacrifice and maybe Ben is completely fine and-

Electricity crackles over the top of the building and you see Ben for a split second almost get knocked off the roof, before he runs back out of sight over the lip of the building.

Or not.

You launch the tart onto the side walk ahead of you manipulating the remains of the apple to sprout and grow into a tree that sits at an awkward angle. You reach down and rip away the dress so that it's no longer floor length, but now reaches your knees and won't get caught on the shoes.

"Wow." You hear someone say and turn to your tight to see a little girl sitting on the steps of one of the buildings eating a vanilla ice cream cone.

You clear your throat with an awkard smile. "Stay in school kid." Before you run full speed up the trunk. Your eyes are glowing bright green as you will the apple tree to grow larger and larger, curving it's branches outward until you're able to leap from it's outstretched arms onto the roof.

Ben is using a makeshift piece of wood as a shield to fend off the electrical attacks of the supe that stands on the opposite side of the roof. The man is still glowing, the tendrils of blue and white reaching outward from his body to wrap himself in a cocoon of safety from Ben.

Another blast shakes the roof beneath your feet that Ben catches with the wood, his shoes sliding backwards a foot with the force of the expulsion.

Damn it. He's gonna owe me a whole cartload of spinach puffs and I will collect.

"Eat this you electric bitch!" You shout throwing one of the spinach puffs at the man. It hits him square in the chest, getting through the electricity because it doesn't conduct anything, and falls on the ground at his feet.

The man tilts his head down at it confused as to what it is.

"Did you just throw a fucking Spinach puff at him?" Ben shouts.

"Yes. Don't say I never did anything for you Gramps." You respond, and as the supe looks back up at you from the ground, you will the plant to grow.

The tendrils wrap around his legs, holding him in place. As the man looks down to fight off the plant, Ben advances with the wooden board and swings as hard as he can.

It hits the supe in the left side with an incredible cracking noise, you're not sure if it's the board or if it's the supe's ribs, but there's enough force to propel the supe from your trap halfway across the roof. His body rolls, kicking up dirt, soot, and who knows what else.

When the supe stands he's still wearing his hood and his scarf, but somehow he looks more angry. How he was able to convey that with his face covered, you weren't sure, perhaps it was the way the air around him seemed to glow, or how his eyes had shifted to a bright blue that burned through the shadows on the rooftop.

Ben races forward, but as he does you realize that the supe wasn't just standing there, he was charging up. And as Ben gets almost past you the supe shoots a bolt of pure electrical energy. Everything slows down. There's a high pitched crackle as the bolt jumps and sizzles through the air, separating the water molecules. Every hair on your body stands up as the smell of ozone fills your nose.

And your instincts take over.

Your body leaps forward of it's own accord smashing into Ben and propelling him out of the way of the bolt, your arms wrapping around his muscular chest and side as you do so. The bolt scorches through the air just over your head where Ben had been standing, making the hair on the back of your head stand straight up, but the supe missed.

In your head you were saving Ben like he saved you the first time you met the supe, when Ben yanked you back out of the way and ripped one of your favorite shirts, but something about this feels different, it felt like the protective instincts you felt for Annie when she told you exactly what the Deep had done to her.

Ben rolls the two of you as soon as you land so that his body is curled protectively around yours and if the supe takes another shot the only thing he'll hit is Ben's unprotected back. Your face is buried in his chest, arms cinched tightly under his armpits to entwine at his back, holding him to you as tight as you can.

When you raise your head to look behind Ben preparing to go another round with the supe, he's gone.

"Shit where did he go?" Ben shouts standing from the ground and looking around at the now empty rooftop.

Well that's just great. I wasted my spinach puff and my apple tart. Maybe that party is still going on and I can grab some more. You begin to think to yourself, as you adjust the remants of the dress, but then Ben wheels on you, his face contorted in rage.

"This is all your fault! You and your stupid Spinach puff!"

"Whoa. Don't you dare speak that way about the spinach puffs, buddy. They were amazing and-"

"I don't fucking care! You couldn't have done anything else?" Ben snarls. He's standing so close to you that you can feel his anger heating the air between the two of you. "Or better yet, you couldn't have just stayed out of my way? I had this handled! But NO you just had to get between him and me didn't you?" His eyes are narrowed at you, glinting in the night like emeralds. "I would have had him!"

Why is he so angry about this? All I did was push him out of the way. You suddenly think back to how when you landed Ben immediately rolled so that you were no longer in the line of fire. Did he do that on purpose?

"WHAT? I saved your life! A thank you would be nice-" You snap back.

"No you didn't. All you did was make things even more difficult for me. Just like every other fucking woman."

You narrow your eyes at the sexist comment. "How did I do that? All I did was help you!"

"No you fucking tackled me! And believe it or not Petals, I'm not going to let you get fucking electrocuted because you keep trying to save me!"

"I didn't want you to-"

"What? Die? I hate to break this to you Petals, but I'm not some pussy like that plant fucker. And electricity doesn't kill me."

"How do you know that? It could-"

"It fucking doesn't, because those assholes in Russia already tried all that shit on me!"

His words make your breath catch. You were trying not to think of all the horrors that Ben suffered in his forty year captivity, because each time you did it made your heart break for him. No one deserved that, not even him.

"Oh." You whisper quietly pressing your lips into a tight line.

"So next time you want to risk your fucking life for me, don't. Because anything that asshole can do to me, worse shit has been done, and I'd rather feel a little fucking electricity than watch you get blasted to pieces." He snarls and stalks off, in the direction of the apple tree you used to get on the roof to look for the supe.

The smell of ozone is still in the air, the sounds of the city rising from below, the bright lights of the distant skyscrapers standing like stoic watchmen. You can just catch a glimpse of Vought Tower amongst them.

And as you stand there in the aftermath you wonder if Ben really didn't care about you, then why was saying that he'd rather get electrocuted than watch you die, and why did he turn his back to the supe and shield your body from the coming hit?

A/N: Wow a lot happened in this chapter…. But honestly R.I.P the apple tarts and the spinach puffs. But, yes I know a lot of angst, a lot of the reader and Ben both living in denial. I promise that I do have a plan for this fic and that they WILL end up at the end. Y'all just gotta bear with me. 😂😭

As always thank you so much for reading! If you'd liked to be added to the taglist for this series please let me know :)

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @corruptedcruiser @winchesterwild78 @the-super-who-locked-wizard

@criminalyetminimal @52ndstreeet @bitchykittenconnoisseur @anna6307 @libby99hb

@faephoria @possiblyafangirl @jqtaro @quietlybitchy @tinydancer40

@roger-that-cap @megara0224 @miskwaadesiwag @rainyeggvoidpurse

@soldiergrimes @tiffsbagels @podiumackles

@ifyouwerethemoon @ririshkin @peachhiz @fitxgrld @sukunassfinger

@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @ej13928 @deans-spinster-witch @kr804573 @modiddys-blog

@acciosherlockholmes @minas-fantasies @fireskyy

@n-o-p-e-never @nesnejwritings @am0rem @tpwkcalli @momggn

@fitxgrld @whimsicalcherry @ladysparkles78

[gl1tchy-4rt]

Building a band!!

Here's the Members of...

"Here in 'Go Make Some Sound' it's all about doing something fun and enjoying ourselves, if we are not enjoying it then we try something else" - Marla the Mushroom

Marla the Mushroom: Bass player of the group.

She is peppy and outgoing, she maybe the only gal in the group but don't let that make ya think she won't defend herself!

Works part-time at "Noisette Cafe" and is good friends with the owner.

"I don't care if our music is silly, or childish or anything, what matters is that me, my pals and the audience we are having fun!" - Stretcher the Cheese

Stretcher the Cheese: Drummer of the group

He may look a bit old but i assure you he is full of life! Always amazed by the life and animals that live in the world.

Works part-time at Virgil's farm.

"All i have to say is that life is pretty amazing and i'm glad to be here" - Tommy the Tomato

Tonny the Tomato: Guitarist of the group

The chillest clown that ever lived, but that doesn't stop him from being a party animal!

Works part-time at a convenience store.

"I...i'm just happy to be alive and well, and especially that my friends are here and okay" - Brad the Butcher

Brad the butcher: Pianist of the group

Don't let his scary appearance fool you, he is pretty nice and pretty much the dad of the group, despite his challenged vision you, he can play music like a freaking master!

Works part-time as an actual butcher.

"Life's about enjoying yourself, so that's what we are doing! enjoying life" - Presley the Pineapple

Presley the Pineapple: Lead vocalist of the group.

A Strong yet melodious voice to set the stage and lead the band to a wonderful performance! And is that voice is no other than Presley! Leader of the group.

Works part-time in a bar.

"We are all here! and that's so cool!and i'm so glad that... we all changed, for the better!" - Peshino the Bot

Peshino the Bot: Accordion player of the group.

Hands that used to make pizza are now used to play wonderful melodies with his new friends! He is never afraid to put a bit of color to life.

Works part-time in a post office.

Last but not least be can't forget about their manager: Snotty and his secretary: Ms. Iceyy! By @fizzysartplace

Sadly we couldn't get an interview with them :(

(archive photography) /jk

So yeah! that's "Go Make Some Sound!!" i really enjoyed drawing them :)

See y'all next time! Buh-bye!!

[thegnomelord]

was thinking about drawing Ifrit from "Hell has a basement floor" and had some headcanons on his appearance.

on one hand i was thinking to make him tall and burly, built big to store all the mana and power he has, make him built like a volcano.

on the other.... what if and hear me out.... Ifrit.... skinny. tall and gangly, long limbs, underfed, outlines of bones poking out from underneath the skin, sunken eyes for that extra unsettling factor. besides magic does have a cost. maybe it's just your body that needs to be exchanged.

now i thought of the second hc because tall and skinny isn't exactly associated with the kind of brute force Ifrit has but he's still strong even if his lifestyle is gonna put him in an early grave. now imagine when he's finally part of tf 141 they notice that he's not very well in the food and weight department for his height and the amount of energy he spends so... they start feeding him (especially Price and Soap because protect and care hoard/pack)......

i've also been getting into the trope where characters gain weight as a sign of health and living a better life. so yeah tell me what you think

and maybe share your hcs on Ifrits appearance because i don't want to butcher your creation on accident

Okay 1: you have no idea how happy it makes me when I hear ppl want to draw fan art of my stuff :DD, internally I'm like that dog video where the dogs happily tapping his paws lol bc he can't contain his excitement lol. And also yeah, I'm a huge sucker for the trope and your little idea with Price amd Soap tickles my brain.

And 2: man you did some mind reading bc your hcs are actually very close to what I've made up for the lore of the whole au. While I want to overall leave Ifrit's body type ambiguous to give readers some space to imagine themselves in Ifrit's place, Ifrit is 100% underweight with more of a volleyball/basketball player type build, as mages focus on stamina and endurance rather than raw strength bc that can be augmented with magic. Also has stretch marks because their weight fluctuates a lot lol

Okay lore spoilers so if y'all want to find out through the story skip this-

Okay so— magic is increadibly taxing on the body, not just by eating away flesh and creating mage marks as a Mage's power grows, but just by simply existing inside the body magic stresses the body. Because fundamentally magic is toxic to humans, and even mages who have the needed adaptations to utilise magic are no better than our ancestors when they were first learning to stand on two legs.

The best metaphor I have for magic is chemo drugs. They're used to kill a cancer but they also damage healthy cells. Magic, similarly, damages the body by existing inside it, but also is used by mages to heal the damage as soon as it happens. This uses a lot of calories and also why mages have really irregular weights, losing 10kg in a week isn't an uncommon thing.

Someone possessing even half of Ifrit's capabilities would need to eat 3x that of a regular human of the same height and weight. Mages are literally Shaggy from Scooby Doo lol. And that's only to get the bare minimum their body needs, caloric need becomes much bigger if they're active like Ifrit is. So you'll find that many mages, but especially military ones, are underweight and need to regularly get Iv fluids and nutrients to help their body recover from using magic. They also need to eat a lot of highly caloric food, which isn't easy when one of the most common side effects of magic use is puking your guts up.

Most military mages don't reach 30. The average life expectancy is around 25, with active duty (i.e. constant missions and daily magic use) mages lasting on average 3-4 years before their body basically breaks down, but they can last longer depending on how conservatively they use magic.

Now, knowing all that, Ifrit has been actively using strong magic on par with military mages since they were 14-15 years old and while they're not the healthiest, they're healthy as a horse when compared to most mages. The reason behind their continued survival — their mage marks.

[super-hero-confessions]

The fact that there are people not willing to understand the political commentary being made with The Boys is not only mind boggling, it irks and disturbs me. I am begging people to please try to understand and stop being so childish about what they don't or maybe even look at the world around them to see why what's being presented might be more relevant than they realize.

1. The show and comic are satire. They make political commentary in often the most crude way it can be presented whether you like it not. It's fine if you don't like satire or political commentary but don't sit there and complain about it when you knew what you were getting into before it got this far. Nothing about that has changed. If you are someone who unironically takes satire seriously at face value rather than trying to listen to the message? I can't help you, sorry.

2. If I see one more complaint about Homelander not being killed in Season 3, I'm going to lose my mind. There were thousands of people in Vought tower. Thousands. Including Ryan, Becca's son. If you're someone who thinks all of those people should be sacrificed so the "goal" of killing Homelander can be accomplished? Congratulations, you think exactly like a war criminal. Fuck the "fuck Ryan" crowd.

3. Homelander's not just played by the best actor or is the biggest draw of the show, killing him off is so shortsighted. Not just because losing him would ruin the show. There will always be more "Homelander"s as long as the root causes creating them are allowed to fester and continue to exist. If you think killing Homelander will solve all of their problems and everything will be 🌈✨🌅☀️🦄🦋🌈💖🧈🪰🌈 if or when they do this, you are missing the point of this entire series. They are literally using Ryan to exemplify this.

4. The fandom misogyny against Starlight is so transparent. She's not without faults, but she is the least "traditionally masculine" woman on this show and I think that says enough. Her goal is to neutralize and damage the credibility of Homelander without pushing him directly over the edge because she doesn't want millions of people to die at the expense of "scorched earf" like William Butcher. She's quick thinking and does what she needs to in order to survive in a moment and try to protect people, but in case people forgot? She's following Hughie. Hughie is the one who gave that speech about saving everyone, even if they don't deserve it, especially if they don't deserve it. He is the guy asking why violence is their solution for everything and he has always been that guy. Why are people blaming Annie for Hughie doing what he does best and being an actual good guy that promotes goodness in the people around him? If you're going to be mad, at least be consistent. If you don't like moral lessons or questions being presented to you through media, I don't think the superhero genre is for you.

5. William Butcher is not the hero of this story. He never was and never will be. He does not have good intentions, and he never has had them. This isn't even a case of "the road to hell" or misguided pursuit. He knows what he does is wrong and does it anyway and makes this very clear on multiple occasions. This has always been the case. The guy literally "fridges" his own wife and people are actually surprised he would cheat on her? He is on an adjacent boat to Homelander as far as severely mentally ill men in dire need of help go, the main difference being that Homelander has little to no understanding of how his actions are "wrong". Butcher may actually be worse off than Homelander as when you look at their issues, at least in some ways, he's more like an evolved state of Homelander or the "next stage" of depravity. That is why he's been building Homelander up to his level so they can fight. To say either of these men are beyond saving is deeply hypocritical and commits the exact same moral failing that William Butcher is practicing. Hughie is the real hero, die mad about it.

6. This show is reflecting the current political climate and pointing out the faults of both "sides". You can't dehumanize another without first dehumanizing yourself. If you know anything about America or even the world, you'd know that some people are being forced to live in these sorts of environments. We literally have a real threat looming over us. White nationalists want to take over the country and implement a conservative hellhole dictatorship. They have a whole balls to the wall plan for this! I want to throttle half of this fandom for being so stuck in their own privilege that they won't take a second or two to think about the people who can't afford to not live through this.

I live in constant fear of what could happen to me and my family. I don't get the option to tune it out or pretend it doesn't exist. I live in a red state. I don't have the money to move. I'm pretty much everything the modern Nazi despises.

And yet, there are people in this fandom complaining about political commentary that is directly reflecting our current society, parodying and satirizing it to try and put forth an extremely important message before it's too late.?

I need people to understand this. Not want, need. My life is literally dependent on whether or not people will understand these things before it's too late because of where this country is headed. I wish I could say it wasn't that big of a deal but I can't. I can't because I don't get the privilege of living in the part of the world where it wouldn't be. Please, I am begging, begging people to take a moment to please look in a mirror, self reflect, and consider "why". Consider whether or not you might be part of the problem because we all have our bad takes, bad days, lapses in judgement. No one is perfect and that's okay. We live and we learn. Lighten up on the faults of others, lighten up on your own faults.

I really like learning so I really would love the opportunity to keep living so I can do that, but I'm scared out of my mind. I'm terrified and it's not just for me. Please, please, I need people to understand.

7. The Trump stuff is funny. It is! Donald Trump is funny if you don't think about the inherent dread of him having political power. I would love to be able to laugh and cringe at him flailing and failing and being ridiculous without that looming threat of the damage he could do on the world. I would love more specials from John Oliver with the breath of relief that Trump won't ever be given political power again. That's where the Homelander Trump metaphor comes in. That's what Homelander is supposed to give us, a way to rehumanize Trump but also reiterate why he should not be given political power. If you're bothered by it then again, this is satire. Satire is not made to be taken so seriously in that way and you will be much happier when you stop doing that.

Please. Please. Please, please, please, please, please. Please vote. If Trump gets elected again, I may actually die and it may not even be from conservative witch hunting.

I fell severely ill back in 2016 when Trump was elected. I broke out in hives the day he was inaugurated. The entire time he was elected, my health continued on a steady decline and I am still trying to recover. I'm not joking. I know how it sounds but I am not kidding at all. I don't know if it was an allergy or what but I have no idea how my body will react if he is elected again but whatever it is, I don't want it to happen.

I just want to be able to enjoy my favorite shows and or comics and live my life. I want other people to be able to do this too, but that can't happen if we keep rejecting every prompt we're given to self reflect.

You're human. So is everyone else around you. Please don't ever forget that.

[freakenomenon]

i really really want to expand on ellens design considering most people in the fandom have their own personal designs for the survivors outside of the game ones. but oh my god I physically can't bring myself to detach from the game design

i just can't imagine a different face at all ... i mean she looks like she's in a perpetual state of sneezing sure but it's fitting considering that sounds. absolutely abhorrent

this is the same reason I simply. don't like the comic desi[CAR CRASH] [BUILDINGS FALLING] “GOOD GOD” [EXPLOSION] BABY CRYING “WAAAH” “WAAA” [YELLING] [POLICE SIRENS] WEEE WOOO WEEE WOOO [HELICOPTERS AND NEWS TRUCKS] “...WE’RE REPORTING LIVE FROM THE SCENE-“ [BANG] “MY LEG....MY LEG...” [LOUD COMMOTI

OKAY OKAY guys. I JUST. I JUST CANT DO IT. im a fan of the hair it's cute and there's nothing wrong with the design ITSELF ive drawn it before and she looks fine i ENJOYED drawing that but. I just. Don't like. The style of the comic. Which thus. Makes me dislike. Ellens design in it.

it also might be the fact she lowkey flashed me when i was first reading it and i was never the same jesus christ harlan ellison did you make the decision to have her nipples on display before or after deciding to make nimdok look like butcher from the boys comics. but that's neither here nor there.

also her face shape is inconsistent at least in my eyes and for the love of god i can barely get over what the hell is going on with ellens manic panic mario chomper bangs i am not about to get into her looking likef someone threw 4C hair on a PEANUT in the comics.

whatever. ill probably get over my attachment to the game design pixel by pixel eventually. maybe. hopefully.

[ineffableigh]

Timeline of Suspicious Events Brain Dump - PART 2

Ran out of characters. See previous post here! [linky]

We resume during Muriel's initial visit to the bookstore. They're having a nice look at a cupperty.

Crowley arrives in a bluster with all his plants - we've only seen him angrily say No about the Bentley and yet he seems to be going along with it anyway. He asks the important question: why not take the train? Why go by car? It's an eight hour drive each way! Train or even plane is WAY FASTER!

Crowley's the one that does the 'humans are weird/a few days' line for some bloody reason. Crowley what are you doin' man lol pick a better lie!

It feels Important that we see so many one on one moments with Nina, but not Maggie. Like we're building Nina as a character, but not really Maggie, y'know?

The show also really wants us to see how uncomfortable Nina is with discussing her love life at all, but everyone in the story just kind of blows past it.

"Dance Macabre" in the Bentley eh? A tone poem about Death calling the dead from their graves to dance for him? Like, I dunno, Gabriel says later in his Tempest line? A piece that quotes Dies Irae?

I love the musical conflict going on in the background once Crowley takes control of the Bentley's Vibes back lol.

Interesting that we have an entire moment to see that Beez is unhappy with the status quo in Hell, and the lack of recognition for all the work they seem to constantly have to do down there. Especially since we hear later they're very 'short staffed'.

Crowley moving seemingly random books from upstairs to downstairs, cosplaying a bookseller (ostensibly). Seems very chill about chatting gravity with Jimbriel, and we get our first Direct Fly Callout. Might be the second, not sure re: 'flyswats' when the archangels visited.

Pub imagery: Jesus raising Lazarus on one side, and the 'butcher' Dalrymple on the other side. Hmmm two sides of Heaven anyone?

It has to involve Aziraphale somehow because the Production Designer had that painting of Jesus done with the tomb opening being exactly like the 'eastern gate' of Eden in s01. Seems like a big effort to go to if not to draw parallels!

I find it interesting that Aziraphale a) seems super excited to hear about the 'Masons' b) there's a lodge next door to the pub, but c) we don't investigate that OR the person Gabriel was with. Y'know, the little shaggy haired demon with a bowler hat covered in flies? Normally would be quite conspicuous, yes? We know that Azi knows what Beez looks like from the end of S01.

Post-minisode we cut DIRECTLY to Aziraphale at the graveyard. What did he do between the pub and then? Did he walk there, drive there? Another huge gap to account for that's just swept under the rug.

Convenient that No Regerts and Friend are there, both being comically intense tough guys openly talking about Grindr lol. Just hanging out in the fog with no phone minutes left like ya do. Very convenient they were there, though I'm not sure what the advantage of that phone call even was. It's so strange a scene across the board that it feels like something is missing.

Back in town, Maggie is chasing Nina to talk about getting stuck in the cafe. I don't know what it is about their talks but to me they feel strange, or at least Maggie's side does. Might just be a by-product of us not seeing Nina 'acting like it's Maggie's fault' but it all feels very out of the blue, y'know? Always when Nina's busy working and can't really escape.

"I'm not your type." "You have no idea." Maggie SHE HAS A PARTNER AND SHE JUST SAID THE PARTNER SUSPECTS CHEATING, NOW IS NOT THE TIME LOL. See what I mean about Weird Vibes though?

Sudden Tempest Prediction from Gabriel. Very weird that he has these moments, either by forcing himself or these triggers. Do you have to be Empty to channel God?

Multitude of Shax Visions - this sequence seems odd to me. We've seen Shax impersonate a human once, yes, but this back to back thing seems unusually competent for her. I do wonder if we're getting a Crowley's Very Stressed Perspective thing going on here. Poor lad sure is stressed.

I was wondering how Shax figured out where Aziraphale was, but I bet she probably just tried to teleport to the Bentley like most demons seem to when Crowley was in it, but probably got punted outside by the Invitation Only magic. Or something.

The interaction with Shax here is really weird, though. It seems purely designed to freak Aziraphale out rather than actually get information. She says now she knows Gabriel is in the bookshop, but nothing about the discussion actually pointed to it any more than she would have known beforehand.

Shax then goes on to tell Beez that Gabriel is in the bookshop. Why she's so confident, I still don't really know, like I said above. All she knows is both the Husbands are being obfuscating dorks, but maybe that's enough.

Also like, Beez, you maybe should have just. Gone to the bookshop? Instead of attacking it? When you know Hell is short staffed? This is a Weird Plot Point too, if Beez just wants Gabriel. Why go straight to war?

As they're bringing Crowley's plants back to the car I hear glass shattering??? What's up with that??

Azi you dingle why are you hiding the Shax visit from Crowley. They really DON'T talk and for no good reason.

Next Instalment: [Linky]

[spiderh0rse]

freeman's mind notes pt8, e36-40 (plus secret e0)

e36

delighted to put his hands on a gun again even if there's blood on it

he wants more things to shoot

doesn't think he's fired a gun before (second assertion of this fact) but it does feel familiar

has had a reoccurring dream of being Snoop Dogg

thinks the barnacles were made by the biology department

someone in Biology named Heather than Gordon tries to hit on sometimes. She is supposedly stone cold

calls himself The Freeman again

everyone was proud of the pollen that killed people

"goat cheese massacre"

return of the Fall Damage. Bemoans the lack of shock absorbers and drugs

confused at why he's wearing the HEV suit

vaguely remembers the ResCas proper

would not drink neon hi c ecto cooler

he doesn't like liars

black mesa is NOT a tourist trap

he is right tbh. Trespassers literally do have rights. You're supposed to make any unreasonable dangers clear and obvious. Warn with signage or some shit

aims to think like a squirrel that has anger problems

the nation of Freeman

yeah this sequence of events is normal and leads to promotions

e37

had some job interviews in grad school. Never knew how to answer their questions

thinks of the building as alive AGAIN

oh hey we're in the part of the facility that Physics of the Crowbar did astoundingly well

gotta avoid the blood shower :(

this gunk BETTER not get in his hair

he doesn't want to smell like mcdonalds

GROWLS

meat chunks in his hairrrrrrr

he no longer likes orange

he's 80% sure cheetos aren't made like this

undertow fuckin with him

his values have sunk since he woke up

prepared for when he gets Alzheimer's. He'll escape room his way out of the retirement home easy

wants a sword cane when he's old

you just shot a SNOT MONSTER, sir.

he remembers everything? (he does not) (he thinks the string theory crowd got into AnMat)

plans to sell the satchel charges to Eddie

yes the magnum does grant godlike ego

he isn't an optimist

this is NOT a democracy he has a GUN

"BLAH!!!"

freeman have you butchered animals before or

would love to land in a ballpit

naptime :>

bat JUMPSCARE he CANCELLED THE CREDITS. SHOCK. AWE.

e0

new intro. Tram ride to some vending machines.

attempts to flirt with the hazard course hologram

doesn't comment on the HEV suit's voice this time!

he's not coming back to the hazard course

only getting HEV suit training because he's capable of physical activity

derides the game-based language of the tutorial

"hup! hoo! hah!"

i WISH there was rubber padding around the knees of the suit

fatphobia,,

he always wanted to be a hamster man

finds the long jump module cool

"nreeeeeeoooow"

could press buttons all day!

Slur count: five.

e38

back to cafeteria intro

he can't sleep :(

HATES the room's vibes

self hypnotizes again. Lmao

TANK OF ACID! SUPERB!

he is a CAT

his faux-southern accent sucks so bad. hillbilly but worse

no come on you can dodge an incinerator

liked the Addams Family. Identified with the Thing, he says.

concrete corridor agnostic

double dead end!

he feels like strangling something.

feels like he wouldn't mind the nickname Dr. Stranglelove

growls again

backup backup gun dependency does rely on state yeah

he wanted a banana milkshake

he's talkin specbio,,,

he remembers lasers are BAD

limbos on by that awful tripmine

"BLLLAAAAAAHHHHHHH"

e39

[incoherent raging] followed by "wait! I have satchel charges!"

deeply comforted by having this amount of explosives. Wants to draw a smiley face on one

welllll the radiation sign is a bit off the requirement but that's a half life note not a freeman's mind note. He should know though

claims his geiger counter is trendy and fashionable

we have reached the non OSHA compliant location

he is clearly being sarcastic here but he does talk about seeing what was probably a mall santa

jello knees..... He's in painnnnn

this isn't even a SPA

he feels like he's in a sub in the cramped metal halls

back to the classroom analogy

it IS the amps that kill you yessirre

part of the opposable thumbs club!

takes the time to study the trapped alien grunt. Says it could get a management job

he hates biolabs :(

goes through the Atom Experience

incoherent babbling

he Remembers that everyone wants him dead. Shoots a probably innocent guard

now plans to kill the whole world

he's a gun farmer :>

usually when stuff goes long he concludes that everyone wants him dead

he's honestly a little relieved that he doesn't have to guess if people want him dead or not

doesn't recognize the vox

GRAPPLING HOOK MENTION

e40

new intro, shotgun-elevator shaft

the eternal issue of understaffing: doing weird bullshit always

"superbus" w/e well superbia is pride so I'd imagine this is "greatness" followed by whatever words he isn't reading

he isn't reading them because he doesn't know latin

human body staircase,,

door conspiracy!

actually thinks before he pushes a button

"woah-hoho-oh..."

hiccups :(

he gets really nervous after killing people

oh the subtitles have suddenly cut out

his normal work was in quantum mechanics and general relativity

stumbles over his saying "I don't know"

"there's no actual right to privacy but it's implied by the rest of the constitution. And this gun,"

prototype cheese slicer or pita cutter- you decide

HE CAN'T HELP ANYONE IF THEY'RE NOT CALM

RELAX AND FOLLOW THE SOUND OF HIS VOICE

back to hitting any button he sees

he is never going to ask for yellow space maggots jumping at his face

a list of things that makes freeman happy: lasers, food, painkillers, bed rest, not being persecuted, getting his life back on track. Lasers may be listed first here but it is below the rest of these

avoids the gauss gun

seeing body parts lying around used to bother him

wants to sprinkle cloned body parts lying places and tape people finding em

big laser? Badass.

gonna shoot down a satellite with that baby

[mangoshorthand]

Thing of the Past- [Five Hargreeves x F Reader]. Ch9 (Hard Feelings Part 4)

SUMMARY: You can't avoid it any longer: Five has to meet your parents. It goes more wrong than you could possibly imagine, spiralling to bring up secrets he'd rather stay buried.

⚠️TRIGGER WARNINGS⚠️ Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten - Chapter Eleven/Epilogue

Five's confidence continues to build...but something's been playing on your mind.

Heed that content warning or Momma Mango will be most seriously displeased

⚠️Please heed content warning⚠️

Chapter 9: Fucking Fudge Nutter

You swim lengths, trying to banish your fears through methodical strokes. The oil painting of Five hung in the living room at the Academy keeps playing on your mind: the arrogant but sweet child who Aoife grows more to resemble with each passing day. His rounded face and large but otherwise too-familiar eyes. 

Meanwhile, he lies on the jet-lounger built into the side of the pool. He sips glass of iced water as he watches you, peacefully, unaware of your preoccupation. Sure, he won’t feel like this all the time but, for now it's almost blissful. He closes his eyes and leans back.

His low-down position makes him invisible to the men in front of him. They stand behind the bar, watching your breast stroke.

“Lei è inglese?”

“Americana, credo.”

Five’s ears prick up. Italian guys? He hadn’t paid them much attention until now. They give off an air of superiority; masters of all they survey. One has the sort of deliberately unkempt hair and beard that Five associates with posers, and the other wears a sun-visor  as if with a heavy dose of irony. They share the same strong accent and he has to strain to make it out. He thinks they’re debating your nationality.

“C'è un uomo qui con lei?” (Is there a man here with her?)- that’s Poser Beard

"Con quel culo enorme? Immagino di no" (With that huge ass? I’d guess not), answers Visor

“Lei è americana” (she is American).

That was unmistakable. Five stands up suddenly as the two men laugh. The splashing draws your attention as well as that of the two men.

“Ehi, stronzi!” (Hey, assholes!)

He steps out of the pool and strides over to them, ready to grab one or both of them and smash their teeth into the bar, but he hesitates when he hears your voice.

“Five?”

He knows how much it took for you to wear that two-piece bathing suit. It’s the first time since you had Aoife. You had been anxious about your changed body and the stretch-marks his baby made. He'd gently persuaded you into it, reassuring you that you looked good, but he knew you were still self conscious.

At all costs, you can’t know what was just said.

He deepens his shallow breathing, concentrating on the tension in his balled fists rather than the anger coursing through him. In a voice of forced brightness that he hopes will convince you, he turns, smiles and calls back to you.

“Just practicing Italian, dear.”

He strolls over to the men, raises two fingers and orders a cognac from the barman. The two men watch him approach in dumb horror, seemingly frozen in place. So far, his smile hasn’t faltered. He keeps his body language carefully casual, slipping into Italian as well as he can, no doubt butchering the language in anger:

“Hello fellas. What a great opportunity to practice my Italian.”

He takes the glass from the barman gratefully, pays with a twenty euro note and indicates for him to keep the change.

“We meant no offence, friend,” says Poser Beard.

“Well, you caused a lot. She’s not here to be looked at. She’s a person, she’s just existing like you and I, not on sale in a store or something”

Visor, apparently having recovered enough to be a bastard, looks mockingly down his nose at Five, while Poser Beard holds up placatory hands,

“We were just making a joke- like I said, no offence meant.”

Five takes a sip of his drink and gestures to the glass in his hand. "Mm. This isn't bad.”

He lets out a deep breath.

“Unfortunately, I don’t find your jokes very funny. In fact, here’s the situation, guys: right now, you’re lucky to still have all your teeth. I don’t want to upset her. It’s our honeymoon, you see.”

His smile becomes too toothy.

Visor speaks to Five for the first time: “So you think you’re a badass?”

Five nods, as if pleased that Visor has caught on so quickly, “That’s one way of describing me. But there are others.”

He holds the second man’s gaze, letting his cold eyes supply the place of language.

“Now here’s what’s going to happen…”

You watch him with suspicion as he talks to the men behind the bar. Their faces don’t look friendly. Eventually, he turns to you, raising his voice and switching back to English. He’s holding a bar menu.

“Hey! These guys want to buy us both a drink! They say money’s no object- what do you want?”

“Oh, there’s no need!” you call back, smiling at the two men near him. They clearly don’t understand what’s passing between you but you want to communicate friendliness.

“They insist,” he grins back, “they’re just impressed an Irish-American can speak Italian!”

“That’s kind…can I just have a small glass of white wine? You pick."

You watch Five as he turns back to the two men. He flicks through the bar menu and gestures firmly to items on the menu. The two men look at each other, both reaching for their wallets.

You swim for a short while longer and he returns with your drink and a bottle of wine in an ice-bucket.

“They bought us a bottle of the best champagne on the menu. Wasn’t that kind? Shall we get dinner, angelo mio?

You catch his eye and look at him doubtfully. You’re not entirely sure you believe his version of events, but he looks so much like himself that you’re happy not to second guess him. As you walk up the pool steps, he puts down the drinks and moves towards you. He lifts you up the final step and kisses you sweetly, placing you down with your back to the bar. You feel his hand move briefly from your back, but you can’t see him giving Poser Beard and Visor the finger. When his hand returns, it's on your ass instead, momentarily cupping one cheek in his hand.

Over dinner, you had drunk the champagne together. You perhaps drinking it faster than you should, trying to chase away memories of his low voice saying those things and the disturbing suppositions they've conjured.

The champagne had been exquisite, but you regret it. It churns in your stomach along with the rich food. Now you lie on his knee. Nominally, he’s reading a book, but it has long since been put down on the arm of the couch. Instead, he contemplates the wall art, seeming a little troubled. You look up at him.

“How are you feeling?” you ask him.

He huffs, folding his arms, “Stop acting like I’m going to explode at any second. I’m coping. I’ve already coped with it.”

He doesn’t mean to sound as harsh as he does, but his tone makes your eyes prick with tears. He notices.

“I’m sorry.” He wipes your eyes, “I know it’s all hard for you to hear.”

“I’m fine. I just…” you push one thumb and forefinger into the bridge of your nose, trying to stop the tears. He can tell now that there's something eating away at you.

“Tell me.” it’s a compassionate command.

“No.”

“I’m a big boy, I can take it.”

His expression is hard, his hair shades one of his eyes as he looks down at you.

“I keep thinking about it.”

“Which part?”

You don’t know if you can say it. If you should. You shake your head.

“Which part?” he repeats, voice authoritative.

“Can I…can I ask you about it?”

He nods, “I don’t promise to answer you, but I won’t lie.”

You take a breath and try to keep your eyes on his.

“I know you had dealings with her when you got back to 2019.”

His nostrils flare.

“Go on.” His voice still has that measured, imperious quality.

“When you messed up the jump and-“

“Ended up as a kid. Yeah.”

He’d known it was coming from the start. He wishes he had an outright negative to give you.

You hope he’ll fill in the gaps and tell you what you want to hear, but he seems to be waiting for you to form the question.

“Did anything happen…then?”

His head tilts.

“You don’t have to tell me.” you grab his hand and squeeze it.

“Truth?” He pours himself another glass of champagne and takes a tiny sip. His lips purse, lover-like, around the glass.

You nod your head, though now not really sure if you want to hear.

“Right from the start, she never made me do stuff to her, she just did stuff to me. It was about power. About…marking her territory, trying to break me down.”

He sounds conversational, sipping his champagne. It’s the way he sounds if he needs to reference any of his victims. It always spooks you. It’s a form of wilful detachment built up over decades that only occasionally cracks.

“When I was back in the thirteen-year-old body, it was just another thing to leverage.” He makes a small ‘hah’ sound; perhaps in pleasure at the taste of champagne…or perhaps not.

Your stomach lurches. You sit up suddenly, the headrush combines with the ill-advised champagne to make you grab the ice bucket and vomit into it.

Five, surprised, puts down his glass and quickly holds your hair back. One of his hands rubs your lower back.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t-”

“No-no. It’s not that.”

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and wait a few moments, ensuring the nausea has definitely subsided.

When your breathing returns to normal, Five takes the champagne bucket into the bathroom. You follow him, not wanting to leave him to clean it up.

He works silently, running hot water through the bucket, melting the ice cubes and pouring the resultant foul-smelling mixture down the toilet. When you try to take it from him, he shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about it. Clean yourself up.”

You wash your hands and face, rinsing your mouth as you watch him out of the corner of your eye. He leaves the bucket upside down in the tub to drain and then strolls from the bathroom, hands in pockets. You clean your teeth quickly, resisting the urge to follow him. As you’re starting to feel clean again, he returns in his robe and hands you your own

“Thanks,” you murmur through a mouthful of foam. You take it off him and place it on the hook behind the bathroom door.

He falls into a comfortable lean against the bathroom wall, watching you with folded arms as you finish up. As you strip and put on the robe, you turn to him, unsure what to say.

He brings it up for you.

“Are you okay after talking about that?”

“Never mind me, what about you?”

He shrugs. “I think I’m at point where I find it a little funny, as crazy as that sounds.” He looks cynical again, “no doubt tomorrow I’ll be crying into my croissants but for tonight…I think I’m ok.”

“Good…I think?”

He shrugs. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

The absence of heavy, sleeping breath wakes you. You roll over to find Five awake and staring at the ceiling. You guide his head onto your chest.

“Talk to me.”

Then, after a few moments,

“I was so small.”

You stroke his hair.

This time, he knew for sure she was inside. No creeping feeling that she might be, just the certainty that she was. 

It was for the briefcase. For Vanya, Luther, Allison and the rest of them.  He cleared his throat and knocked at the double doors of room 217. Clearly expecting him, she opened them both wide, framing herself perfectly between them. As always, she was exquisitely dressed; the sequins on her boned bodice caught the room’s orange-toned light attractively. At his diminutive height he had to look up at her all the time now. Before, that had been a ‘pleasure’ reserved only for special occasions.

Her smile was the eye-wrinkled indulgent one; the one that made his flesh crawl. She looked genuinely happy to see him.

“Ah! Just in time for a night cap.”

The Handler sauntered off into the room, swaying her hips exaggeratedly. He hesitated for just a second before he crossed the threshold to the sound and sight of her shaking a cocktail. He cast an experienced eye around the room, ensuring they were alone; that her equally manipulative daughter wasn’t there. When he was satisfied, he closed both doors behind him. It was better by far that no passer-by see or hear this.

She lit herself a cigarette in a long holder. This, she held between her teeth as she passed him a drink. He didn’t take it. The last thing he needed was to be drugged. It was better to get down to business and get it over with.

“To be clear: I take out the board, you get me and my family home?” She placed his drink down on the table and sashayed over to the bed, picking up a folded piece of paper. “No more doomsday, no more apocalypse. Is that correct?”

As she sat and then lay down, propped on one elbow, he felt his stomach give a weak flop…And he felt something lower too, though he didn’t want to think about that.

“That’s the deal.” She said, cigarette waggling in the corner of her mouth and legs crossing seductively.

He nodded, knowing he had no choice. He mentally screwed up his courage for what he knew came next. He knew what it would entail: first, she’ll break him down and then she’ll send him off to do his job like a good little boy.

“Then I’m in.”

She smirked as his throat clicked in a dry, reflexive swallow. Raising both her eyebrows, she held out the piece of paper between two perfectly manicured fingers. She twiddled it invitingly, beckoning him. He took a tiny step forward, stretching as far as he could to take it rather than place the hairless, maddeningly vulnerable body any closer to her. Trying to ignore the crawling sensation beneath his waistband, he waited for her to pull him on top of her, to flip him bodily and make him take off the little shorts she had repeatedly commented on. 

He took the paper and read the location of the board of directors’ top secret meeting place. Then, he refolded and pocketed it. He looked at her and nodded silently. A broader smile curled her lips.

“Now come here.”

His jaw twitched. With obedience that horrified him, he took another step towards the bed, his legs feeling like lead. Her cloying smell of lavender was strong in his nostrils. His hand went up reflexively to straighten the tie of his Academy uniform. 

“Closer.” She beckoned him with another perfectly sharp nail.

He tried to keep his face calm: insolent and unfazed...but her smile let him know that she saw through him. 

"Why?" he managed, with disdain that would convince anyone but her of his confidence.

"Come and find out."

As if in a dream, a passenger in the pubescent body, he came to stand before her.

“Bend over, Number Five."

In that moment, he felt two contradictory feelings: a dread mundane in its familiarity and also a rush of something like relief. Sure, he knew it would be even darker than usual given his current appearance…but he’d coped with worse over the years. He can stare into space, let her do her thing and it will be over; the price paid. Five found himself becoming eager in a way that disgusted him. Eager to strip and to have done with it.

As he bent towards her, he felt the weight of his sordid, shameful erection as his shorts tightened over it, the fabric pulled taught by the movement of his body. 

She reached up. His heart hammered in anticipation. Please just let her leave his ass alone. But if that was the price, he’d pay it. He'd cope with it if he had to. It couldn't be that much worse being smaller, right? He didn’t let himself wince, close his eyes or flinch as she stretched out one finger. Her head tilted and a nurturing, simpering smile crept along her face. 

“So...pure like this.”

He watched the finger approach, heart-in-mouth and now knowing what was coming: she'd run her finger over the thin line of his lips. Then, looking up at him, she'd raise one harshly-shaped eyebrow...and then he'd obey the unspoken command, like he always did. He'd part his lips ever so slightly. Two fingers would worm their way in between his teeth, nails deliberately scratching his tongue as they delve deeper...yet he won't bite, no matter how much his conscious mind wants to.

She'd hold her fingers against throat and make him retch. Eventually, when he was about to snap from the anticipation, she'd flip him onto his back, tear open his shorts and ride him. The nails of one hand would squeeze and scratch, fingers of the other in his throat keeping him on the cusp of vomiting throughout. He’d try to go somewhere else, (gazing at Orion with Dolores by his side), but her probing finger won’t let him. She'll know the gag reflex keeps him inescapably present.

A rising tide of shame threatened to overwhelm him as he stared at her, already salivating in anticipation of the invading finger. This fucking body.

Instead, she just pinched the puppy fat of his cheek between her thumb and finger.

“Adorable. Run along now, Number Five.”

“She didn’t fuck me. She didn’t have to.” he laughs darkly at this, almost reminiscently. “She’d touch my face and once she rubbed herself up against me but that was it. It was about humiliation, not sex. And, because I was going through puberty, she knew how easy it was to…I think she found it funny.”

He sits cross legged with your head in his lap.

“She was staging a coup. That’s why she wanted me to kill the Commission’s board."

He breathes out hard.

“That night made me go…just a tad crazy. I could have got a gun, but I didn’t. When I arrived at the job location there was this vending machine…I tried to get myself a Fudge Nutter but it didn’t dispense properly and I just...lost my shit. I went ham; just beat the shit out of it. Smashed it up. I saw red.

I grabbed a fire axe off the wall. I could have done it cleaner, but instead I went in there and...butchered twelve people. I don’t enjoy killing but for once…I rode the adrenaline...the thrill."

One hand clenches the bedsheets. His breathing begins to sound disturbingly similar to that of his arousal.

“It felt amazing. I think I went into some kinda fugue state: swinging and hacking at them: the bastards who made me what I am; made me a killer. They got a real taste of it, didn't they?"

He smiles now, terrifyingly, mouth seeming to curl a full 180 degrees at either end.

"Blood all over me; in my hair, in my mouth.”

He breaks off here, regaining control of his recollections. When he begins again, his breathing has softened, awful smile faded and humanity back in his eyes.

“Later, I told myself it was just for my family. That I had to…but I know that’s not true. It's the only time I've felt genuine bloodlust. I scrubbed and scrubbed my fingernails but I couldn’t get it out. It was maybe a month before all the blood was gone.”

You’d be a liar if you said this doesn’t disturb you. The return of nausea clearly shows on your face.

“You know what I am,” he says, watching you.

You do know what he is. And you know why too.

Tag list: (please comment to be added or removed.) @dilfjohhny , @sunsunhe, @w4stedtr4sh, @nevbrooke-555, @theredvelvetbitch, @td-miley01, @five-hxrgreeves, @rorygi1more, @jamiebower88

Masterpost

Alternatively, join me on A03.  Here is a link to the whole series

Not going to beg for reblogs and comments because I am so late posting this that I don't deserve them. 😂

[tobiasdrake]

Now that Story Time's over, we can get to work keeping the promise I made to my personal temporal admirer. And also Serai.

Okay, team. We should expect not to have the element of surprise because I just leaned over the edge and shouted a message for the past into the clouds. I do not apologize.

I know we're all a little freaked out about Hollow TIA over there but if we grit our teeth and bear with it, I'm sure we can adjust.

We are here to carry out two tasks: To butcher the Catalyst with extreme prejudice and to commit catastrophic amounts of vandalism. I'm pretty sure we're all familiar with the process of aggravated homicide so I don't think we need to dwell much on the Catalyst's part of the plan.

For the other, here's how we're breaking it down.

Plan A: Find a way to disable the cloud cover and instead restore the Sky Base's original functionality as a climate regular. I call this the boring option.

Plan B: Find a way to pilot the Sky Base and send it crashing down directly into Fort Fleshy, preferably aiming for whatever looks like the most elaborate part of the building. I call this the fun option. But I have reluctantly agreed to try the boring route first.

So I guess we should refrain from being too overly destructive until we know which option we're going with.

Turtle machines with grasping spider claws. Wow, I hate it.

Serai, remind me to set this place on fire before we put it on its collision course. Or... reprogram it, I guess. I can set it on fire while we're reprogram it, that works too.

I do not love how much of this place is open to the air below. Or the way only some parts have guardrails.

More effort was made than with Zenith Academy but there are still safety concerns to be had nonetheless.

Holy shit, I can see the Sea of Stars from up here.

Serai, I thought about this on our way here but your world has an eerie beauty to its atmosphere, despite everything. Like a captivating aquamarine floating in the ocean of the cosmos.

Sorry, I'm getting a little choked up. Let's go paint it red.

Are... are we going to have to go into space?

Hang on. Serai, you're a robot. B'st is a glass golem. Hollow Resh'an is a doll.

...the three of you probably can, in fact, go into space. But what about me and Zale? We do draw our magic from celestial bodies. Can we... like... solstice powers our way into not having to breathe or something?

That would have been way more dramatic if machines could bleed.

Well, I guess we're going to find out. I hope you just made good choices, Serai, because we're committed to them now.

Oh, what!? They have force fields up over all the damaged sections! We're fine, then. Honestly, what's even the point of locking down the sector if it's perfectly safe to access?

B'st, your shapeshifting is hilarious and makes it incredibly difficult for me to hold my concentration. XD

I'm glad to see you're getting the hang of your Living Glass body.

How much higher could there possibly be for us to go?

I can't even see the planet out the window anymore. We're so far up now, I think we might be in space space.

Why are we in space space? In what possible way is this necessary for climate regulation? I think an architect wanted to see how tall they could get away with making the structure before their boss noticed.

And if their boss was anything like Moraine, the answer is "very".

SERAI!? THE WALL IS TRYING TO SELL ME THINGS. Should I punch it, yes or no?

I don't necessarily mean that in self-defense, if we wanted to rob the wall instead.

That is a metal rock. I don't know what I was expecting the Catalyst to be but "metal rock" wasn't it. I was anticipating another flesh abomination.

I'm sorry, Serai. I may have gotten ahead of myself. I promised you a murder, but this is more of a vandalism. I will nonetheless carry out excessive vandalism with extreme prejudice for you. That's what friends are for.

*ahem*

HEY ASSHOLE! OVER HERE! I'M HERE TO FILE A FORMAL COMPLAINT! See, I've been looking all over the place since we got here and I have not seen a single wall worth hunting anywhere. I demand to know where you're keeping the Wall Meat.

Oh. I. Um. I didn't think you'd actually be able to meet me halfway on that. Okay. This is awkward.

But. If you insist.

I WILL RIP OUT YOUR METAL FLESH, GIVE ME SUSTENANCE YOU UNFEELING BASTARD, I KNOW YOU HAVE IT

Nope, I still feel ripped off. These walls suck and have nothing but these stupid fleshless turrets in them. You can't eat any of this shit.

...though apparently B'st disagrees. Alright, knock yourself out, man. I'll be over here, holding out for dessert. Thanks, B'stie!

But, honestly, as much as I'm itching to crunch my staff through that big glass eye thing on its front... I can't bring myself to do it.

This is your moment, Serai. Go ahead and finish it.

...this moment would probably be stronger if machines could bleed but I hope you found some closure in this all the same.

I don't know who that is but we'll fuck them up too. A cornucopia of violence, we are going to unleash upon this dead world.

You were a good friend to us, and to Garl. Pretty much anyone who's even mildly inconvenienced you, I am willing to bury in a shallow grave. The Cerulean Expanse has plenty of space.

[overwatchfics]

uh hi! i just found your account, do you write for junkrat? if u do, can i get some general headcanons for him please? ^^

Junkrat Domestic HC's

He's a super rowdy guy, but has more sense than people give him credit for

makes life super exciting, if you're into bombs like he is he goes FERAL

Slime bombs? Check. Glitter bombs? Check

Do you guys have Nerf gun wars? ABSOLUTELY

When he's calm, he adores cuddles

You're both on his couch and his radioactively heated body is pressed up against yours on a sleepy Thursday afternoon

Idk who remembers the show "Destroy Build Destroy", but he'd love to make some popcorn and plop down and watch some with you

This man is a pyromaniac, loves to set stuff on fire and occasionally has a massive bonfire in his backyard

Very social guy, though not many friends. When he does these bonfires, he'll invite Mako, and Hammond

Hammond only goes for the food tbh

Jamison is a pro at BBQ he just knows how to get that explosive flavor

Mako brings the meat, God knows Jamison doesn't have the heart or the stomach to butcher meat like Mako does

When it grows dark, Jamison loves to play with fireworks, he makes all sorts of little contraptions that release difference colors and shapes into the air, and he'll make sure you can see it

Expect on new year's he'll have a massive show for just the two of you.

Jamison is mostly a giggly kisser and likes to draw laughs out of you.

Butterfly kisses, Eskimo kisses, neck kisses, anything that will get a laugh out of you

OH GOD, HE'S THAT ONE PERSON WE ALL FEAR WHO BLOWS RASPBERRIES

If he's being romantic, he goes more quiet than usual, and he'll kiss you till he can't breathe

his love language is quality time

So, spending time doing stuff together is really his go to for someone like him

A/N: He was fun and a little hard to write. Thank you!

[hom3land3r]

Can you be a real hero for a moment please?

There's some petty catty fandom bullshit going around right now and it has me pretty depressed. I prefer to just observe and not engage but it feels so wrong to say nothing. However, I don't know what to do.

What would you do if you saw what amounts to a highschool mean girl "clique" trying to alienate and "other" queer people of a different mindset over shipping bullshit?

Or to give you an emotional investment here, what would you do if you saw people doing this Ryan or Zeus or anyone else you loved?

It's one thing to have a different opinion or even be enthusiastic about an opinion, it's another to be so far up your own ass that you try and reinforce your own opinion, unironically as in not joking, as fact.

A worthless endeavor since opinions by definition are not fact and cannot be right or wrong.

All while treating other actual human beings like eyesores for the crime of existing in shared spaces that aren't owned by anyone.

I've seen unnecessary hostility and disingenuity too. I'm not going to mince it. At this point I'm positive it's deliberate and obtuse.

And yes, before you ask, this bullshit is about you and whether you would top or bottom for Butchlander. For reference, the queer person getting "other"ed who thinks you would top is promoting their ideas but not trying to harm, police, or "other" anyone for having different ideas.

The people who think you're a bottom are straight up doing that insidious drama posse bullying type shit to try and snuff it out, bordering on barely veiled soft fascism that is completely devoid of understanding the nuances of your show and story itself.

But they're just "baffled" by these totally insane "outside the norm" or "unpopular" opinions, right?

I wondered why the bottom Butcher club didn't seem so active on here when the AO3 kudos buttons tend to speak for themselves.

"Resurgence" my ass, those grown ass adults acting like children purposely and very subtly, discreetly or overtly, attack that side of fandom to discourage and make sure "No bottom Billy" can happen. And I'm not paraphrasing there, one of them literally went into an artist's ask box just to say that exactly.

I'm so over fandom toxicity but I'm at a loss, what the fuck can I even do about this before it gets any worse?

Without starting a villain arc.

By the way, I don't care about Butchlander and mostly just can't wait for you to finally get yours from humanity after all the bullshit they put you through.

I do, however, care about bullying when I see it.

Alright.

Here’s the thing, I’m used to folk having their ideals and whatnot and all but forcing them upon me. I’ve had my share of folk expressing their strong desire for William and I to get together. While flattered, it’s not my cup of tea. But to each their own.

Whatever stories and fan ideals you have about me, more power to you. Whatever floats your boat. But, and I’m asking here, be sensible about it.

By some miracle there’s been a sense of community building here since I created this fucking blog. Which, I never expected to happen. Truly. You guys are invested in my life and it’s cute, if sometimes a bit…much (ahem…💎). But my point is, that I expect everyone to treat each other with respect. We’re all friends here, right?

For the folk that can’t be reasoned with, I suggest doing all you can to block and erase them from your life. At the end of the day, you’re always going to have a bunch of crazy fanatics pushing their ideals because that is the way. It’s complete bullshit.

Say what you want about me. Write what you want about me. Draw what you want about me. But don’t be a dick to folk who don’t agree with you. It’s as simple as that. And don’t act like a fucking clown over William and I for fuck sake. I mean seriously, of all the things to get so defensive over. My lord. Take a moment and seriously rethink about yourself.

One thing I don’t condone about all of this is bullying others. If you have to bully anyone, bully me. Leave others out of it to do their thing and you do yours. If you have to direct your attacks at someone, fire them my way. Let’s see how long you last then.

C’mon. Grow the fuck up.

[robo-drake09]

Brawl Stars Dragon AU dump 💃 on my main account for a change! Extra content/rambles under the cut

(Reminder I usually post rough sketches like this over on @brawlstars-dragon-au ! All content for this au is reblogged there as well!

First drawing is Penny:

I was tossing up designs for her, and I feel like I wanna change her from a wyvern to a western dragon (2 legs, 2 wings > 4 legs, 2 wings).

Tossing around with the idea that her feathered wings were clipped after the incident that made her lose her eye. What was this incident, you may ask? No idea!

Second drawing is Sandy:

As before, I kept the lung dragon appearance with the long body.

I also played with the idea that if he was fully awake (not as his sleeping self now), he'd be extremely powerful 👀 (ty to a mutual friend for idea <3) In quotes are possible names for this form he has.

More often than not, you'll find Sandy floating around while he naps. Sometimes, he'll accidentally float away, and either Tara or Gene will have to reel him back in.

Third drawing is Colt:

Just a pretty boy! He hasn't changed much apart from generally fitting my style more now. I want to lessen his dual...features though. Maybe the double sets of wings and split tail was a bit much, but I still really like it 🥹

Colt sings. My GOSH he sings very well, but sometimes he gets too confident and butchers a note heh

Also preens quite frequently to keep his feathers in tip-top condition. Can't go out without making sure he looks his absolute best!

Fourth drawing is Nita:

Definitely changing her from a wyvern to the 4 legged dragon. She shares the same general build as Leon, but her wings are very small and entirely incapable of flight. She does do happy flaps when she's excited tho!

She doesn't have any fire breath, but her innate magic and pendant allow her to stomp the ground to create shockwaves and tremors. A little bundle of power!

Bruce is gonna stay a big bear rather than a dragon bear :) This was also thanks to some input from a mutual, but it seems to fit better. If anything, perhaps he'll be like a slightly realistic bear? Not sure yet!

And yeah! That's all :) These were lots of fun hehe, so if you read this far, just drop a brawler you want me to make into a dragon, or even one I've already done that you want a sketch page for, just comment/reply to this post hehe

[realitys-ex]

One kinda fun/odd bit about Discworld is the place of Jews/Judaism in it (no, this probably won't go where you expect).

So there are the 2 obvious places and one arguably subtle/debatable place:

Feet of Clay/Golems very clearly drawing from Judaism (though in subsequent books that was toned *way* down)

Omnianism is a very clear stand in for/amalgamation of Christianity, Islam, and Judaism (the amount of each is left as an exercise to the reader).

and Lastly / debatably many people find a similarity between the description of the Dwarf religion and Judaism (I am not stating I agree, just I would have been remiss if I didn't bring it up)

Now the one thing that kinda gets forgotten is that: Judaism as a whole independent religion is somewhat confirmed in Discworld leaving arguments about the above somewhat moot! (you can't have a stand in for a religion if you already have the religion itself).

In both Feet of Clay and Fifth Elephant it mentions Vampires working at Kosher Butchers (for those unaware blood is not kosher so it needs to be drained extra well from meat, a perfect job for a vampire).

Now what does that actually imply? Absolutely nothing.

PTerry often had off the cuff jokes, as well as mucked about with continuity (remember how Trolls originally would continue to grow until they died, and could get up to the size of a small mountain, which only came up in one of the early books and was ignored in the rest?) and (I am sure) just liked that joke and did not intend to imply any theological ramifications or serious world building from it.

But dammit, it is (to me) incredibly funny to step into a (semi) serious discussion about Judaism in Discworld and completely derail it with a throw away line.

[verybadatcardgames]

For 001, I'm curious about your thoughts on Puzzleship(Yugi/Atem(Yami Yugi)) and Sightship (Isis/Pegasus).

I'll talk about Sightshipping in a separate ask by @kira-quartz since they wanted to know about that ship too

Puzzleshipping

when I started shipping it if I did: I don't personally ship it or regularly consume content of this ship, but I understand the appeal and why people like it.

my thoughts: I have a lifelong condition called "Protagonist Blindness" that renders me with the inability to fixate on characters the creator intended to be the main focus of the story. Instead, I hyperfixate on minor/supporting/background characters, with rare exceptions.

So I don't really have any in depth thoughts on Puzzleshipping. It's not that I don't care. I'm just drawing a blank with this prompt. Sorry What makes me happy about them: I'm glad they both experienced character growth as the series went on. It's ironic that Yuugi became more independent and confident in his abilities by having a constant companion in his life, and Atem grew to have more empathy and kindness in knowing Yuugi.

Hey, look, I guess I do have thoughts about this.

What makes me sad about them: The thought of Yuugi taking a moment to look for the Millennium Puzzle as he's getting ready to start his school day, wondering to himself why he can't he find it anywhere, then coming back to the realization the Puzzle has been buried in Egypt for weeks. things done in fanfic that annoys me: I think this was more of an annoying trend that took place in the early 2000s. At the very least, I'm not aware of it being as frequent as it was back then, anyway. The "trend" being: writers throwing Anzu under the bus and making her out to be some sort of bigot or yaoi blocking Anti-Christ as a means to prop up any m/m ship related to Yuugi and Atem. There was a big misogynistic vibe going on where Anzu-bashing was fairly prevalent and I'm happier to see it gone (or nowhere near as frequent as it was back then).

You don't need to butcher and demonize a teenage girl in order to build up a m/m ship. It's okay to stay friends and date other people. Tis all I am saying. things I look for in fanfic: I don't read Puzzleship fic so idk what I'd be looking for.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: Yuugi/Dark Magician and Atem/Mahad or Atem/Bakura

... What? My happily ever after for them: I'm sure people are going to be pissed with me saying this, but I think the anime series wrapped both their character arcs up alright and I don't think of their interactions beyond the conclusion.

who is the big spoon/little spoon: There is no big spoon or little spoon. They are both the spoon and the reflection. They are the spoon and the spoon is they.

what is their favorite non-sexual activity: Deck building. Not even because the fate of the world is at stake, but because a new set just came out and they want to exploit whatever broken AF cards Pegasus OK'd this time around.

[bluecoolr]

Best part about dms is I get to make you write Nathan as a character, ooo~

Anyway I'm formally requesting an info dump on Nathan please n thankies because I need him for... ya know. Sin.

Don't wanna be ooc for my silly goofy ideas

For you, Plant? Of course.

(Hope you feel better soon catboy 😚 am platonically smooching you)

Nathan Aaron Todd

Info Dump

Fair warning, there's hardly any structure to this. I literally dumped it all.

From Nathan meaning "God has given"/"gift of God" and Aaron meaning "mountain of strength". In the Bible, Aaron was the brother of Moses and helped make a false god for the people to worship. 👀

Two years younger than Darrell, born on the coldest day of January in the Todd farmhouse

He's very close with Susannah and Darrell. Although, he doesn't like how pushy Sussy (she hates that name) gets.

He and Darrell are inseparable and are each other's best friends.

Growing up, they shared a room. At first, they shared a bed. Most nights they lost sleep over talking about the most mundane things. They would pretend to be asleep when their mother or father came to check on them.

In a house like theirs, you learned to memorize footsteps.

When they got too big to share (Nathan tended to hog the bed and their parents didn't approve of spooning), they were given separate beds. When Darrell went through puberty, he was moved to his own room and his bed was given to Judah.

Nathan hated being separated and hated being saddled with Judah. Judah was too nosy, too loud, and demanding. He sucked up too much to their parents.

He loves the outdoors. Tends to go around barefoot. Has a green thumb.

Granted, he's always a tad bit dirty.

Pastor Todd and his wife had a tendency to spot a child's talent and build their future around it: Nathan's was farmwork.

He was taught how to farm, to raise crops, to tend livestock, hunt, track, trap, and - most importantly - butcher.

Has no qualms about ending a life. Butchering gives him a rush, a high.

He's not squeamish at all about blood. In fact, he likes to have it on his hands; likes to know he's taken the life force of something.

Pretty decent singer. He, Darrell, and Susannah sang together for church. He sings softly while he works.

Would have loved to draw, but found he's better with woodwork. He made silly little toys for himself and other kids. His favorite was a little wooden rifle.

He's the most cheerful out of the Todd children. He's quick with a joke and is very affectionate.

Basically if you put pre-war Tristan from Legends of the Fall, Hareton Earnshaw from Wuthering Heights, and Thomas Hewitt from Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning in a blender, you'd get Nathan.

Charming, overworked, loyal to his family, and ruthless

You know that quote "Suffering can be religious if you do it right."? That's his schtick.

Speaking of kids, he loves them. The town kids see him as the cool older brother they always wanted.

He and Darrell look extremely alike. You'd mistake them for twins if it weren't for the difference in hair and eye color; Nathan's eyes are a cold blue (sometimes described like a shark's) (I suppose they mean that in the emotionless predatory haze sort of way but they could also be saying Nathan looks like he's dumb as bricks.)

I mean if that ain't Nathan after a night of drinking idk what that is.

Would have followed Darrell to the ends of the earth.

Never felt like he was second to him or overshadowed - well until Nex came around.

Man's strong as an ox. His physique betrays him.

Notorious fornicator

Women love him, cattle fear him, the men want him dead.

Darrell never punishes him however. Like I said you can't get away with anything in Zak unless you're Nathan.

Like Darrell he will fuck when the opportunity arises.

Might have caught feelings for a certain someone ehem ehem

I want to make more content of him, he's just ridiculously interesting.

I can't think of anything else rn but that's what I got for this country fool. Give me follow up questions and I'd gladly oblige 😌😌