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zepskies · 3 months ago

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Lost on You - Part 10

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Supe!Reader

Summary: 1983 is a big year for you. You’re finally chosen to join the ranks of Payback, led by the most (in)famous supe in the world: Soldier Boy. He’ll never admit that he’s trying his damndest to figure you out. You’ll never admit that he’s actually growing on you. But the problem with this game is deciding who’s the predator, and who is prey.

AN: And we’re back! In today’s episode, we have a very special guest. 😉

Also, just so you guys know, my podcast interview with the Idling in the Impala podcast is now live! For all the timestamps of key moments, fic recs, and SPN writer shoutouts, see this post (you'll find the link to the video there too).

Song Inspo: “Wicked Game” by Chris Isaak

Word Count: 6.5K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, angst, drug use, PTSD, violence, and another big reveal…

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Part 10: I Need a Hero

Revenge could wait for one more day.

It all can wait, Ben thought. Despite how vehement he was yesterday, today, he was reminded of how good it felt to sleep in a warm bed with a beautiful woman.

He laid there behind you, on his side. He’d woken up to the sound of music somewhere downstairs, maybe in the dining room.

What time is it? It was hard to remember to keep track of that now, even with the digital clock on the nightstand. It was only midnight, but to his body, it felt like morning.

You were dead asleep. Occasionally you let out soft hums, and other semi-arousing sounds. His lips tugged upward.

Still moans in her sleep.

He drew down the comforter and sheets slowly from your back. He was greeted by smooth skin, except where some marks had been made permanent. His fingers traced carefully over a rough, scarred patch of skin above your hip, as if you had been tased there repeatedly.

His jaw clenched. He could still remember the sounds he used to hear—your screams through the walls of the compound. He remembered when you eventually stopped begging for it all to stop.

“You’re saying this is my fucking fault?!” he said. “Yes! It is your fault. Because you’re too much of a mean, callous, arrogant, entitled, selfish, fucking asshole to see that everybody hates you!” you spat.

For so long after that day, he hated you. He told himself that he didn’t give a shit about whatever was happening to you, because you clearly didn’t give a shit about him.

But the long months wore on to longer years, alone in the dark. Too often, your words would rattle through his head, reach through his chest with ragged claws. No matter how much he fought it, all he had time to do when he was alone, was think.

He vacillated between stubborn, angry indignation, and rethinking every interaction he had with you, with Countess, the rest of the team, and beyond. Slowly, he allowed himself to retrace his steps. If only in his mind, he began to regret certain things…at least where it came to you.

Ignoring you was both harder and easier, since he couldn’t see you.

That all changed a few days ago.

Eisenstein returned to his cell, but this time he wasn’t alone. Two guards held you bound and gagged. You were just as shocked to see him as he was you.

It felt like he was suspended in time.

He saw the signs of aging in your face, but it didn’t matter. Even now, you were beautiful.

The spell of it broke when they threw you down onto the metal table usually reserved for him. He saw now that they had you in a straitjacket to keep your hands covered. The anger built inside him, almost incandescent in his veins.

“What the fuck is this?”

The doctor held a glass syringe in his gloved hand. He drew closer to you with slow, measured steps.

A realization soon dawned on Ben, no matter how much he didn’t want to admit it. He saw your terror, the way you wordlessly pleaded with him, asking for help with your eyes.

Part of him still hated you, but he couldn’t take it. He wouldn’t allow this sick bastard to hurt you again. Not right the fuck in front of him.

You were still his.

His hand traveled down your bare shoulder, over the gentle slope of your side, and down the curve of your hip under the covers. You shifted and hummed, edging toward wakefulness. Ben settled in from behind, protectively embracing his body around yours in a perfect fit. He began kissing along your neck, slowly.

“Hmmm I’m sleeping,” you said, keeping your eyes closed. He smirked. His lips became more insistent, along with his hand spanning your thigh.

“Wake up, then,” he said. He teased the shell of your ear with his tongue, dragged your earlobe between his teeth. You shivered.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you retorted, smiling.

Ben huffed. “Yeah, keep being a fucking brat. That’ll get me to stop.”

His beard rasped against your skin as his lips found a path down the column of your throat. Acquiescing to open your eyes, you sighed, tilting your head back to give him more room. Meanwhile, his cock pressed insistently against your ass.

You smirked and shifted your hips, grinding back against him. “Maybe I like working you up.”

“Oh yeah?” He moved your thigh over his to spread your legs for him. There the warm, blunt tip of his cock pressed at your entrance, nudging you open with shallow thrusts. You moaned in response, reaching back to slip a hand in his hair.

You were a wanton little thing, he thought, even as he reached around to bury his fingers in your pussy. Already finding wetness between your folds, he gathered some of it and rolled your clit smoothly between his fingers. You gasped his name, your hips bearing down against him.

He took the opportunity to sheathe himself all the way inside you, until his hips were snug against your ass. You made a sound of pleasure that had his balls clenching on reflex. Your voice was a curse, even without your powers.

For once, he fucked into you slowly, with long, unhurried strokes that still managed to rock the bed. Ben was surprised the frame and springs hadn’t given up yet.

“You’re fucking mine, you hear me?” he said, close to your ear. He punctuated his words with deeper thrusts. “Say you understand.”

“Yes,” you agreed on a gasp.

“Yes, what?” He laid more tantalizing kisses along your neck and jawline. “Tell me.”

“I’m yours,” you said, in a coarse whisper. Ben claimed your lips in a kiss, before he kept moving inside you in languid strokes.

You were a moaning mess, your eyes squeezed shut. You grabbed at your breasts and kneaded them yourself, rolling and pinching your nipples. He strummed more insistently on your clit, until he felt your inner walls finally start to throb around him.

Your orgasm hit you in a slow, long wave as you pressed your face into your pillow. And you clenched so impossibly tight on his cock, it triggered his release as well. His arm curled around your middle and pressed you tight against him as he uttered a sharp grunt. He finished hot inside you, panting heavily into your neck afterward.

“Well, good morning,” you quipped, despite trying to catch your breath as well.

Ben’s hazy reverie broke into a chuckle. He dropped a lingering kiss onto your shoulder.

“It’s the middle of the night,” he corrected.

You shrugged. “Whatever.”

When he pulled out of you, you shivered a little. He rolled onto his back, and regardless of the mess in the sheets, you turned over to rest your elbow on his pillow, leaning over him.

“I should probably tell you something,” you said.

He eyed you in suspicion. “What now?”

You smiled and laid a hand on his chest, dragging your nails through the fuzz there.

“My family’s from Brooklyn, not a small town in Indiana,” you confessed. "Made it up to make me seem more...down to earth. Doe-eyed and likeable."

Ben’s brows shot up. He took a moment to process that information, then he shook his head.

“Fucking figures.” His arm lowered to curl around your lower back, caging you against him.

“I grew up in a brownstone that we had to share with two other families,” you said.

“So you were broke.”

“Yep. When I was born, my family spent all their savings to contract with Vought, to give me Compound V,” you explained. “Their plan was something like, if I became a famous superhero one day, I’d bring us out of our shitty life.”

Ben sighed, shaking his head. “So they pimped you out to Vought.”

“Essentially,” you said. You paused. He could see it was difficult for you, but you talked more about your life—the expectations from your parents, the training, the grueling schedules and the robbing of your childhood.

“When my mom died, I…I realized just how much they took from me,” you said, gazing up at him. “Isn’t that horrible?”

Again, Ben shook his head. His hand had been caressing up and down your back, but it stopped now. Part of him was still reluctant, but he told you about the biggest lie of his life. That he hadn’t grown up poor or struggling. That his father practically owned half of Pennsylvania, and Ben had been a spoiled rich kid. He’d also gotten kicked out of boarding school after starting a fight.

“My father said I wasn’t worthy of his name,” he said, with a wry turn of his lips. “So I went out, talked to some of his golf buddies in the War department, and got myself into the Vought program. I became Soldier Boy.”

You listened with rapt attention. Not interrupting him, just giving him the time he needed to find his words.

“When I came home after the war, my mother was just as proud as she’d ever been,” he recounted. But he didn’t smile. “My father took a good look at me, maybe for the first time in my life. And you know what he said?”

You gave him a questioning look, silently prodding.

“He said I took a short cut. ‘A real man wouldn’t have cheated,’” he said.

When he eventually met your gaze, you at least didn’t look pitying. Just understanding.

“I guess we both have daddy issues, huh?” you said.

Ben shook his head. Then he eyed you. “You don’t look that surprised by all this.”

You smiled, a little sheepish. You stroked your thumb across his chin.

“I can sense when a man is lying to me, remember?” you said pointedly. “I clocked you a long time ago, pal. Mostly any time you told some fake war story... You didn't fight in the war, did you?”

He frowned in offence, even though you both knew he couldn’t deny it.

"I was there," he said.

You gave him a knowing look. "Ben."

"I fucking would've, all right, but by the time I got there it was pretty much..." He waved a dismissive hand. His brows were crunched along with his worsening frown. You felt his embarrassment, and as a result, his agitation. You were glad to finally get the truth in his own words, but you didn't want to work him up in that way either.

You tried softening him with a kiss to his cheek. You rubbed a soothing hand over his arm.

“So what do you want to do when we get our lives back?” you asked, purposefully changing the subject. “After the whole payback thing.”

Ben sat up with you against the headboard. His upset slowly faded away with your ministrations, your gentle touch, and his expression fell into contemplation.

“I always thought I had time, but uh…I thought I’d eventually settle down. Have a couple of rugrats of my own. Raise a family,” he said. “Thought I could do it better than my old man.”

You tilted your head at him with a certain measure of surprise. Out of everything he might’ve said, that one didn’t occur to you. Although, with his upbringing, you supposed it made sense. You smiled.

“You might have a few of those out there somewhere,” you said.

He chuckled. “I've always thought so.”

He looked at you in a way he hadn’t before, a bit gentler, with something else you couldn’t name. Your face warmed as something fluttered in your lower belly.

“So tell me then. What do you want?” he asked.

Once you worked through that bit of nerves, you thought about his question. It took you longer than you thought it would to come up with an answer, but when you did, it was the most honest thing you could think of.

“I want to be happy.”

He paused, not expecting that answer. Then he nodded, with a short hum.

You sighed. “Okay, if you really want to go after Vought, I think I have an idea of where we should start.”

I can’t believe it. This thing still fits me pretty well, you thought. You twisted in the mirror to examine yourself in your old black and violet supe suit, though you didn't bother with the mask.

Meanwhile, Ben was already with your generous host, sat with widespread legs on the couch while he smoked a large blunt. His smoke coiled out lazily.

“You gotta believe me, I didn’t know what they were planning,” said Arthur Cohen. AKA: The Legend. He had been forced into a chair, though Ben hadn’t bothered tying him up. The man knew better than to make a false move. He was a decade older, and lucky for him, even wiser.

His penthouse apartment in New York looked more or less the same. Hit records and old successful movie posters adorned the walls, like a true has-been.

“Yeah, you said that fifty fucking times already,” Ben snarked. “What you haven’t said, is why.”

“To be honest, I never asked,” Arthur said. His expression soured. “Stillwell and Stan Edgar shivved me out of that decision, those uppity fucks. Then they got me fired on some technicality.”

“Allegations of embezzlement, or so I heard,” you said, reentering the room.

Arthur raised a finger. “Not true. That money was well earned backpay.”

You rolled your eyes.

“You know I know you’re lying, right?” You approached the men and crossed your arms. “What’s the lay of the land now?”

“Well, Stillwell’s the new me. Stan’s the new CEO. They disbanded Payback after you disappeared. The others are either working new gigs or are in early retirement. But I heard Vought’s working up to creating a new team.”

You nodded and shared a glance with Ben. He looked a little too chilled out right now. Apparently, Arthur had the good stuff.

“Before we jump into the frying pan with this, I want to go see my family,” you said. “Would you…want to go with me?”

Ben blew out more smoke, gesturing at Arthur. “I’ll keep this one company until he finds our old team. Make sure he doesn’t fuck off to Rio.”

You felt the sting of disappointment, but you sighed and agreed.

“Just…wait for me to get back before you go anywhere,” you said. You saw Ben prickle a little at being “told” what to do. You lowered down to his lips.

“Please?” you said, plying him with a kiss, and a gentle squeeze of his hand. “I’ll be back soon.”

He tightened his hand on yours. His gaze drew over you, briefly with more clarity through his high.

“Fine,” he said. “Be careful.”

You nodded with a smile, giving him one more kiss goodbye.

Your father was the longer drive north than your brother’s house in Queens, so you headed up to find the former first after borrowing a car from Arthur. According to him, your father had moved upstate to Albany after your “death.”

Now, you understood why.

He lived in a two-story house on a whole acre of land, complete with three cars, a pool, and oh yeah, his new girlfriend. She looked good hanging off his arm in Atlantic City, as you saw from a picture on the wall—after you broke into the house, that is. To be fair, they’d left the sliding glass door open in the backyard.

Your dad was dressed like he just got home from the golf course, walking over from the kitchen to the living room. He dropped his glass of wine in shock when he saw you standing there, admiring the only framed picture of you, your mother, and Chris on one of the display shelves. Glass shattered across the hardwood floor.

“Hey, Dad,” you said. You turned to him, not bothering to hide your disdain.

He gaped for a few seconds as he tried and failed to make his mouth work. He pointed at you with a shaking hand, your name finally falling from his lips.

“It’s a beautiful place,” you said. You gestured widely at your surroundings. “It’s nice to see that you finally got what you wanted.”

He tried to go to you, to embrace you, but you held out a hand. Your lips trembled as you fought the onslaught of your emotions. If he touched you, you might not have been able to control your actions.

“Did you give any of the settlement money to Chris and his family? Or did my death just make you rich,” you asked.

Your father’s eyes closed. He released a heavy sigh before he was able to meet your gaze again.

“He wouldn’t take any of it,” he admitted.

Your tears stung in your eyes as you smiled a little. “Sounds like him.”

“Where have you been?” he asked. “Are you okay? Do you need help?”

Again, he tried to get closer to you, and again, you held him off.

“The only thing I need from you is to keep doing what you’re doing,” you said. “Keep living your life like you no longer have a daughter.”

With that, you stalked out of the house and shot out the door, back to your car, no matter how much he called out after you. You got into the driver’s seat and beat the wheel once, twice, venting your frustrations. But you forced yourself to take in deep breaths to calm yourself. You wiped the tears from your eyes.

He wasn’t worth it.

You wondered if you should go see Chris though. Would it be safe for him and his family? Was Vought watching them as a contingency, if you ever escaped?

You weren’t sure. You rucked through your purse lying in the passenger seat for the weird “cell” phone Arthur had lent you. You wanted to check in with Ben first, before you went anywhere else.

You started to dial, but a gloved hand shot out and injected a needle into your neck. You startled at the sharpness and the feeling of a chemicals rushing through your body. Your eyes darted to the rearview mirror.

All you saw was a blurry, black mask.

Meanwhile, Ben was fucking plastered.

He had been ever since you left yesterday morning. In his unrest, he’d moved on to a handful of whatever opiates Arthur kept in his medicine cabinet.

Christ I’m fucking bored.

He glanced down at the phone in his lap. The one Arthur gave him, along with a list of numbers that had been taped to the fridge. The first number on the list was the cell phone you were carrying. Ben read the rest of them.

Pizza place. Chinese. Swedish massage—hmm, there’s an idea. Handy man. BEST escort service…

Ben rose a brow. An inebriated smile curved his lips.

“What makes it the best escort service?” he asked, and loudly. Enough that Arthur came over from where he’d been making calls in his office, trying to find the rest of his former teammates’ whereabouts.

Arthur raised a brow at him. “You sure that’s a good idea right now?”

Ben shot him a terse warning look. The other man raised his hands.

“Eh, I’m three times divorced. What do I know?” he said, but he sighed and gave Ben a long look. “It just seems to me that you and Sirena got a good thing goin’, that’s all.”

The thought of you managed to cut through the haze of drugs clouding Ben��s mind. He frowned.

“That’s how Missus #1 caught me, with one of my ex-assistants in the jacuzzi,” Arthur said, with a mild grimace on his face. “She got that house in the divorce. Well, that and the kids.”

Ben looked over at him blankly.

Heaving a sigh, Arthur went back to his office.

Ben glanced down at the list of numbers in his hand, and the cell phone in the other. What the fuck was taking you so long then?

He dialed the first number on the list—your number. It rang several times, but you never answered. He called you again, waited a few minutes, then called you a third time. You weren’t answering.

His frown worsened, along with a suspicious prickling up his spine. Fuck...

He'd felt it the moment he let go of your hand, but he'd been too out of his mind to actually listen to his instincts; the same ones that warned him not to let you out of his sight. And more importantly, not to let you go.

He got up from the couch and stormed into Arthur’s office, shoving the door open. Arthur jumped in his seat.

“What? What’s the matter?”

“She’s not picking up the fucking phone,” Ben said. He paused. “Something’s wrong.”

Arthur didn’t ask him the predictable question: how do you know? He just took in the look on the supe’s face and knew it wouldn’t be wise arguing. He tried calling your father's home, but all the man would say was, "She left. She's gone."

Arthur hung up with the man, and for a long moment, he sat pensively while Ben angrily paced the small office, like a tiger confined in its enclosure.

“It’s possible that Vought knows you guys made it back,” Arthur said. At the dark look on Ben’s face, the other man rubbed his chin with a sigh. “Okay. I’ll try to track her down for ya. In the meantime, I’ve got Countess’s address. Maybe she'll even have an idea of where to look for Sirena.”

He slid a piece of paper toward Ben across his desk. He grabbed it, pointing a threatening finger at Arthur.

“Find her.”

You woke with a groan. You knew a drugging when you felt one, and this was it. Someone had given you a powerful sedative.

You were alone in a white padded cell, lying on a cot. It was all too familiar.

Except for the tall figure in black standing in the middle of the room, watching you. You gasped with a jolt, pressing your back against the wall after you sat up. You almost couldn’t believe your eyes.

“Irving?”

Black Noir stepped closer until he was sitting beside you on the cot. Tentatively, he raised a hand up to touch your cheek with gentle, gloved fingers.

Your shock gave way to anger. You slapped his hand away.

“What are you doing?!” you said sharply.

Noir backed off at once, as if you’d struck him a real blow. He got up, went over and grabbed a dry erase board that had been lying against the far wall, along with a marker off the floor. He wrote something down on it, then he showed you.

You shouldn’t have come back to NY.

You frowned, both at what he “said,” and in confusion. Why wouldn’t he just talk to you?

“What did you expect?” you asked incredulously. “For me and Ben just to disappear forever? To let you keep ruining our lives?”

Noir paused at that. He tilted his head with a long look at you. With your abilities, you were able to sense that he was disheartened, and even angry. He erased the board with his arm and wrote something else.

Do you love him?

You blinked at the question.

“Who?” you asked, even though you knew.

Soldier Boy

Emotion rose high in your throat, but you worked past it with a swallow, and a deep breath.

“That’s none of your business,” you said.

Noir just stared at you, his head tilting forward. The longer he stood there, watching you, waiting for an answer, the longer you prickled with unease.

He erased the board and wrote the same question again. He held it out for you to see, shaking it once in emphasis.

Do you love him?

You hesitated, but you didn’t want to lie anymore, even to yourself.

“Yes, I do,” you said. “I know what he’s done, believe me, but he isn’t a monster.”

Noir’s head twitched. You felt his anger intensify. He dropped the board onto the floor, startling you, but all he did next was slowly raise his hands to take off his helmet. He showed you what was left of his mottled, disfigured face—the burnt skin and the divot in his skull that had never fully healed.

Your mouth parted in shock as tears sprung in your eyes. You tried to avert them, but Noir stepped forward and grabbed your jaw, turning your face up to his and forcing you to look. Your lips trembled, but you met his gaze unflinchingly.

When he seemed to be satisfied, he released you and stepped back. He placed his helmet back on.

“I understand why you hate him,” you said at last. “But you made your choice when you let them take me too. You…you changed everything for me.”

You were satisfied to feel a lance of Noir’s guilt. You had scars too, and most of them weren’t physical.

“I’m not going to apologize for my choices now,” you said, with a firm glare. “So unless you’re going to kill me, you can fuck off, before I scramble what’s left of your head.”

Your eyes glowed with your power. You opened your mouth to begin your siren’s song, but Noir turned on his heel and exited the door, leaving you alone in the cell.

A fucking chimp sanctuary. Really? Ben thought as he broke into the boundary of the reserve. About a quarter mile into the tall grass, he found a large, if rundown country style house in the middle of the woods.

“Yes, Big Daddy. I’m almost ready for you. Just let me heat these up…”

Ben raised a brow, but he gritted his teeth and kicked through the front door. There she was, Crimson Countess in all her glory, holding a set of anal beads.

She gasped at the sight of him, but she ignored the “client” on speaker on her landline phone, and dropped the beads so she could aim a fiery blast at the intruder.

Ben jumped out of the way and tossed his shield. It hit her square in the chest and sent her flying back into the wall, destroying a bookshelf and the dining table. He walked over to it with slow, heavy steps.

She raised her head with a groan, but then, her eyes watered with disbelief…and fear, when she looked up at him.

“Ben?” she said. “My God…it’s really you, isn’t it? You... you look the same.”

“You don't,” he remarked. He lowered down to grab her by the collar of her suit and raise her out of the rubble.

“How much did the Russians pay you, Donna?” he asked calmly.

She struggled to escape, her nails scraping at his gloved hand. He tightened his hold.

“They didn’t,” she admitted. Tears leaked from her eyes under her mask.

“They didn’t pay you anything?” he said through clenched teeth. “Then why?”

You know why, came sneaking voice in his mind. He tried to pay it no heed, but Donna sneered at him.

“Because,” she spat. “I fucking hated you. We all did.”

Ben’s lips pulled at a humorless smirk. His chest prickled with heat. “I should’ve known you were a bunch of sniveling, backstabbing, fucking cowards.”

“Kill me then,” she taunted. “Is that gonna make you feel better? Going to make you feel less empty inside?”

Ben’s chest began to get that nuclear glow, but he managed to fight it down, back into embers.

“Not yet,” he said. He drew her in closer. She held onto his wrist, her feet scrambling over the debris on the floor.

“I need to find someone,” he said. “And you’re going to help me.”

Ben and Donna sat across from each other on her living room couch, with the landline sat between them. The phone was on speaker as it rang. The longer it took, the more annoyed he became.

“This better work,” he said. She gave him a flat look.

Finally, a woman answered the phone.

“Good afternoon. Stan Edgar’s office. How may I assist you?”

“Hi Gloria, it’s me, Donna,” she said. “I need to speak with Stan as soon as possible, please.”

“Ooh, I’m afraid he’s in a meeting.”

“Trust me, he’s going to want to take this call.”

“Hmm, I’m afraid his next availability isn’t until next week. And next month if you want an in-person meeting.”

“Just tell him to call me back asap!” She said, hanging up the phone in a huff. Ben gave her an unimpressed look.

“That was your big fucking plan?” he said.

She huffed. “You think breaking into Vought is going to be easy? Let alone finding that weasel. He’s got the best security money can buy, and by the way, finding where they’re keeping your little girlfriend isn’t going to be any easier. They could’ve stashed her literally anywhere by now.”

You think I don’t fucking know that? Ben got up from the couch with an angry breath. He turned away from her and rubbed at his beard in contemplation. He shouldn’t have let you go anywhere alone.

I should’ve been there. The thought gripped him, deep in his gut. Guilt was an unfamiliar, uncomfortable feeling.

“We’re going to need help,” Donna said.

His bad mood took a turn for the worst. He glanced back at her.

“What, the rest of the fucking Scooby gang?” he snarked.

“Or you can try going in alone, guns blazing,” she shrugged. Her sharpened gaze met his. “How fast do you think they’ll kill her, just to spite you?”

Ben’s jaw clenched. Donna leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms.

“Or worse. They’ll put you back in a box and ship you back to the Russians,” she said. Her snide smile had him clenching his teeth. “Either way, you’ll never see her again.”

With everything in his being, Ben wanted to fry this bitch to Kingdom Come.

“Get up,” he ordered. “Pack a bag. We’re leaving.”

Donna’s expression fell. “What?"

"You heard me!" he barked, grabbing her arm to pull Donna to her feet. "Get the fuck up."

She struggled against his grip. "Where’re we going?”

“To find those fucking Twins.”

They took her car, a tiny sedan. Evidently, the end of Payback hadn’t been good for Donna’s career. Arthur had told him that, irony of ironies, she now sang at a Soldier Boy tribute act at Voughtland to pay her bills. And as he’d seen earlier, she needed to pad her income in other ways.

She was driving them up to Vermont. It was going to take days, and Ben was already sick of her.

It was a small blessing when they stopped at a gas station in the nighttime. She gave him her credit card to buy some snacks for the road while she filled up the tank. (He took the keys with him as insurance that she wouldn't bolt with the car.)

He returned with a far bigger bag than she expected. She forgot what a human garbage disposal he could be. He tossed the card back at her.

“Your card’s maxed out, by the way,” he said.

She glared at him, but she endeavored to let it go with a sigh, raising a hand to her temple. How the fuck had this become her life?

To minimize being overheard, she stepped closer to him while the gas pump kept going on her car.

“Gunpowder is the easiest one to find next. Mindstorm’s probably hiding in a hole in the middle of the woods some-goddamn-where,” she said, keeping her voice down. She gave her unwanted companion a sly look. “Though I’m thinking you want Mindstorm to stay wherever he retired.”

It brought up an unsavory memory.

After the team turned on him, Mindstorm had been the one to lock his gaze on Ben. For a moment, his feet had been rooted to the ground while Mindstorm tried to shove him deep into his mind. It had given someone the opening to slip a mask of Novichok over his face. He suspected it had been Countess.

Now, Ben turned to her with a glare at her audacity.

“You know, for a massive cunt, you’ve got some brass balls,” he said dangerously. “How the fuck didn’t I see what a vindictive little snake you were from the beginning?”

Donna scoffed in derision.

“I’m vindictive? Says the cheating, lying, bastard,” she snapped.

“Oh, shut your hole. You knew what I was doing, and you didn’t give a shit,” he said with a glare. He leveled a finger at her. “You used me to get exactly what you fucking wanted. Fame, money, and all the perks that come with it.”

Her lips pursed, like she didn’t want to admit it. But if they were airing out dirty laundry, then she wasn’t pulling any more punches.

“Well, I wasn’t the only one. Was I?” she said. “Anyone who ever smiled at you, fawned over you, or sucked your dick was trying to get something from you. Or, they were scared of you. Because you’re a bully. A fucking monster. And sooner or later, Sirena won’t be able to stomach you anymore.”

The thin leash on his temper finally snapped. He reacted, reaching out to grab her by the throat. He was truly thinking about breaking her neck.

Donna choked for air and gripped his wrist. “Without me, you’ll have no one. Good…fucking…luck finding her.”

Ben was furious, but he battled it down, expelling a breath of frustration.

He released her. She coughed and gasped and stumbled a few feet away from him, glaring at him all the while through her fear.

When she was eventually able to stand again, she and Ben shared a look of mutual loathing, but also, of understanding.

It was an uneasy truce. For now.

You were quickly unraveling alone in the dark.

You felt the phantom cold of your old cell. No matter how you rubbed your arms through the leather of your supe suit, you couldn’t get warm. You released a shaky breath and swiped at your tears.

You missed Ben. He had to know by now that you were in trouble, but you didn’t know if he’d know how to find you. Or worse, if they found him first.

You steeled yourself and tried to calm your panic. You counted to thirty. Your eyes flit to every small detail of your cell that you could name: the small crack in the gray linoleum tile, the line of ants slowly creeping along the corner, the brittle wool blanket you were sitting on, laid over your cot.

When your breathing was steady, you tried to think. You didn’t know where you were, of course, but you could try to sense how big the building was.

You did something you rarely did. You cast your awareness outward as far as you could reach.

There were very few male energies, and you only picked up on a few scattered thoughts.

Until you found one. It felt…strong, but young. A kid?

Jesus Christ, what’re they doing in this place? you thought.

What…who’s there?

You heard the voice in your mind, small and afraid and lonely. Before you could answer him, the door of your cell opened to a few familiar faces.

There was an older man in a lab coat that you recognized, but you couldn’t place his name until you read his monogram. Vogelbaum. Followed by Stan Edgar and Black Noir, who came to stand behind you. You knew that if you made any wrong moves, Noir would kill you this time.

Quickly you read their energies as you observed them.

Vogelbaum gave off mild interest in you, but it felt clinical. Stan felt resigned and calculating as he took you in.

“For what it’s worth, I do wish it hadn’t come to this, Sirena,” Stan said. “We didn’t intend for you to get caught up our deal with Russia.”

He may have been telling the truth, but that didn’t mean you cared.

“You’re in the most secure lab we have,” he said, gesturing to your wall-to-wall cell without windows. “No one knows you’re here, and no one will find you.”

You smiled dryly. “So what do you want from me?”

“I want to know how you and Soldier Boy escaped the facility in Russia,” he said, gathering his hands behind his back.

What he really meant was, How did you escape? So we can make the next cell even more effective.

You leaned forward and spat at his shoes.

Black Noir grabbed you by the back of your neck and yanked you back. Your jaw clenched in anger, but you didn’t struggle. Even if you opened your mouth to sing, Noir would snap your neck before your powers had time to affect him.

Stan remained unaffected by your outburst, though he glanced down at his shoes.

“These are handmade Italian leather,” he remarked.

“Even if you find Ben, you’ll never be able to kill him,” you said tersely.

“We don’t need to kill him. Nor will we need to find him,” Stan said. “He’s already looking for you.”

Your eyes widened. Your heart swelled with both hope and dread, though you tried to hide it.

“We have a plan to neutralize him. Several, in fact,” he added, and spread his hands wide. “Until then…welcome home.”

Smug bastard. You glared back at him.

He left, along with Vogelbaum. Black Noir glanced back at you once, then he was gone.

The lights in your cell turned off, leaving you in darkness. You heaved a breath and couldn’t help the tears that found hot paths down your cheeks. You curled your knees up on the cot and held them to your chest.

You squeezed your eyes shut, as if you could pretend the room wasn’t pitch black. You focused your breathing, in and out, until your heartbeat began to slow down from its panic.

The kid, you remembered.

You licked your dry lips and tried casting your awareness out again. When you found the familiar energy from before, you reached out to him.

Hey, are you there? you prodded.

Who the hell are you?

It’s okay. Don’t be scared, you said, and you gave him your name. Are you locked up here?

Y-Yeah.

I’m sorry to hear that. I am too.

How can you be talking to me…in my head?

Well, it’s complicated, you admitted. It’s a new power I’m trying out, thanks to my time as a human test subject.

Something told you this kid knew the feeling.

What’s your name? you asked.

Um…John. I’m John.

AN: 🤭 Oh, yeah, we're going there.

How did you like getting Ben's perspective on things? And his "forced" team up with Countess to find the rest of the cast of Payback. 😬 What could possibly go wrong?

Next Time:

Ben hated to admit it (so he wouldn’t), but she had a point. It took him a minute to wrangle in his ire, taking deep breaths to try and calm the power inside him. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t.

This time, it actually did.

His hand fell back to his side, letting the younger man breathe freely.

“Let’s go.” Ben turned on his heel and headed out.

“Where, uh…where’re we going?” Charlie asked, rubbing his sore neck.

“Looks like we’re getting the team back together,” Ben said grimly.

He tilted his head.

“Well. What’s left of it.”

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 11

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notmeowse · 2 months ago

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Solavellan ending and why I hate it

Major Veilguard endgame spoilers under the cut.

I beat the game two days ago and I haven't been able to stop thinking about that ending. I'm not going to get into the rest of the game's flaws. They've been covered at length. But all of those issues aside, the one perfect, untouchable thing I thought I had left as the game drew to a close was the Solavellan ending. After all, Trick wrote the original Solavellan romance and the incredible continuation of it in Trespasser. As lead writer, they were directly responsible for making it happen. I thought we had this in the bag.

So on one hand, my favorite Dragon Age romance finally reunited and disintegrated off into the sunset.

On the other hand, he did not choose her.

This is what ruined it for me. I know a lot of people have issues with her sacrificing her life to join him in the Fade, but that was really a secondary issue for me.

What was the point of their entire relationship if, in the end, when it REALLY counted, he was never going to choose Lavellan over tearing down the Veil? Why did it take Mythal, who he actually killed in the last game in order to take her power, to convince him? Where's the romance in that?

This literally just turned into the story of Lavellan and the elven god who did not love her enough.

Okay, yes, the gamified reason it takes Mythal to convince him is because Lavellan was tacked onto an existing avenue of dealing with Solas rather than being given her own separate option, right? At the end of the game you have the choice to either fight him, trick him, or (if the Mythal-related criteria is met) invoke the essence of Mythal contained in the statue. No Bring Out The Big Guns, Lavellan option.

In my opinion, she should have been the fourth option, only available to players that have an Inquisitor that romanced Solas and encouraged Lavellan to reunite with him mid-game. It would have required about as much effort to do this as it did to have him turn her down once again (which, I maintain defeats the entire purpose of the story being told here). That would have been the absolute easiest fix to this fucking mess.

I understand why Lavellan wasn't counted among his regrets and therefore wasn't in the Lighthouse murals (because he doesn't actually regret falling in love with her) and I acknowledge that getting real closure from Mythal is important to Solas's story, and that it did have its place in that ending scene. Whether she was a lover or a mother to him isn't really the issue here -- it's the fact that she holds sway over him where Lavellan apparently does not. Despite the fact that, again, he killed Mythal in the previous game, despite the fact that he couldn't bring himself to kill the Inquisitor for the anchor, despite the fact that Lavellan was the one single thing in the world that made him really want to walk away from his plans.

(Why wasn't the "I release you from my service" a conversation had between him and Flemythal back in Inquisition? And why is that essence of Flemythal (who now exists in Morrigan) suddenly so chill and pro-Veil? Do we not remember the reckoning that will shake the very heavens? The She was betrayed as I was betrayed, as the world was betrayed? I will see her avenged? No payoff? None? There's so much wrong and bad writing to unpack there, but this is still a Solavellan post.)

Back to him wanting to turn away from his grand plan. The fundamental difference between Mythal and Lavellan, in my opinion, is the way each of them saw him. Mythal asked him to change for her, to leave the Fade, to commit atrocities with her out of love and service. Lavellan only ever loved him as a man, never once asking him to change for her, never asking him to be anything other than himself. In the time they were together, he was able to be the person he wanted to be. It took a very specific set of circumstances and a very specific person that had to fall into place for that romance to happen, which is arguably what made her so special, and what made their time together even more so. It followed, especially with what we know now, that he would want to drop his grand plan to be with her.

In comes Veilguard, which introduced a parallel between Solas/Mythal and Solavellan. In the second memory, we discover that Mythal never once chose Solas over her duty to elvhenan (even when he begged her to lay it down and run away with him) and dragged him along with her to commit unspeakable atrocities (in her words, she broke him). Solas (at that point in the game, when we were witnessing the memories) had yet to choose Lavellan over his crusade, but quite literally loved her too much to bring her along with him. He would not let her do that to herself, he would not do to her what Mythal did to him.

Here's where I feel like I'm losing my mind, because I thought the point of that mural was to foreshadow him eventually choosing Lavellan, as he is very much not Mythal, and is very much looking for a reason to lay it down, to be proven wrong. I also thought the blurb in the Inquisitor character creation menu (who did you romance) was foreshadowing it, as well as the mid-game choice Rook can make to encourage her to reunite with him and change his heart.

So why didn't it happen? I can only assume because they didn't actually want to have any of our choices carry over, let alone the Solavellan option (which they should have realized from the start was a bad call and also fucking impossible to manage given that the game is a direct sequel to Inquisition). The fact that Lavellan is tacked onto an already existing scene rather than being given her own is evidence of this. However, even if she had to be tacked onto the Mythal scene and not given her own, a simple reordering of the events would have fixed the fucking ending. So it could have gone two (very easily manageable and not too much extra) ways:

Remove the part where he turns her down. Remove the entire thing. Morrimythal could have flown up to him before the Inquisitor even arrived on scene, we could have had our statue moment, and just when he thinks he's going to be all alone behind the Veil, Lavellan shows up, they reunite, and she goes with him. (Easiest way for Bioware to fix it imo)

Lav acts as the ace up our sleeve, a fourth option (and a second option to make him lay it down) instead of using the statue to redeem him. Mythal releases him from her service AFTER he chooses Lavellan, thereby releasing him from his guilt over her. I prefer this one. It should have been this. They could have walked away, they could have tied themselves to the Veil, either way works.

Now, I am among those that think the Veil should have come down, which would have rendered this entire thing moot, had it happened. But since Bioware is dead-set on maintaining the status quo in Thedas, it should have been this instead.

In writing this I wonder if I've been completely delusional over their relationship, but going by the reactions to this ending, it seems that what we got was not at all expected.

#veilguard spoilers #solavellan #solas #inquisitor lavellan #lavellan #dav spoilers #datv spoilers #bioware critical #dragon age #dragon age critical

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ryuichirou · 6 months ago

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I saw your recent Riddle x Floyd pic on kofi and I was wondering, what kind of drunks do you think the twst boys are? Like flirty drunk, sleepy drunk, crazy drunk, etc. Also, what do you think their alcohol tolerance is? Like, who’s a lightweight and who can down shots like there’s no tomorrow?

Anon! I’m finally replying to your very fun ask. But actually, even though that comic was posted on kofi ages ago now, it actually makes sense for me to post it today of all days… 👀

Still, sorry for the wait! This is honestly a very good question, and a very interesting one to think about.

Also also, I keep thinking about a series of drawings+hcs that this jp artist drew, and I loved their hcs a lot! But I haven’t looked at it ever since they were posted, so I hope they didn’t influence my own hcs too much lol I don’t think they did, but…

Riddle – surprising no one, he gets drunk instantly even if you just put a drop of whiskey in his tea. He is the lightweight with zero experience with alcohol, and he swore to his mother that he would never drink it, even after he turns 18. But life had other plans for him… I feel like drunk Riddle gets giggly and unexpectedly playful, even slutty, he really is the ultimate “homeschooled virgin goes ham at his first college party and sucks someone’s dick”. He can’t stay awake for a long time though, so he’ll fall asleep somewhere in the corner after half an hour or so. He also won’t remember anything about the next day.

Ace – he gets drunk too easily for his own liking, he really wants to get better at it. He tried drinking a couple of times even before enrolling to NRC: one time he stole his mom’s vanilla liqueur and threw up, the other time he sipped on his brother’s beer while he was in the bathroom, and then got smacked for that. Out of the first years, he is the one that gets the most excited about stealing booze, and whenever he is drunk, he is obnoxious. He yells, fights, pranks, does stupid shit and lives his best life…

Deuce – he also gets drunk easily, but not as easily as Ace. But this is because he already had his “gets drunk and acts obnoxiously” phase: he and his delinquent guys used to drink a lot. Deuce liked drinking more than he liked smoking… He doesn’t want to drink now because he is afraid that his “bad self” will come out, but unless Ace is around to keep him heated, Deuce is likely to just get sleepy and mumble nonsense quietly to himself.

Trey – he is good with alcohol. Well, he feels super drunk whenever he drinks, but you would never guess it: he doesn’t look and act drunk at all. Well… He starts looking scary and intimidating after a certain point. Regardless, he prefers to pull a “well, one of us has to stay sober and make sure everyone is okay, right?” and just sit there watching everyone get drunk.

Cater – a big enjoyer of cocktails (as long as they aren’t extremely sweet). He also likes straight-up whiskey, but never drinks it in front of others. He doesn’t drink often, but he started drinking when he was pretty young. He is very good with alcohol, but sometimes he really wants to get tipsy, relax and have fun, so he is probably the one to drink more than some of the other boys.

Leona – loves alcohol but very capricious about it: it has to be expensive and rich in taste. He doesn’t like mixing stuff, but when it’s mixed with milk he actually doesn’t mind it. He prefers to drink alone, or in a company of one other person. And he would get a bit flirty and provocative, but actually, for the majority of times he’d just suddenly start snoring and purring at the same time.

Ruggie – he doesn’t like drinking, but he loves when others drink because this is an opportunity for him to showcase his cocktail-making skills. He knows a lot of cool cocktails and is very good at identifying expensive booth… not based on taste though, it all tastes the same to him. When it comes to drinking, he would just drink homemade beer that his grandma makes. He doesn’t get too drunk, but he laughs at everything whenever he does. And also starts stealing shit just for the sake of it.

Jack – oh pupper. He doesn’t like drinking at all: he gets hot, sweaty and confused immediately. He starts panting, sometimes even with his tongue out. Then he gets restless and starts pacing around the room, either whining or growling quietly to himself, looking as if he would pounce if someone was to poke him even a little bit at this state. But if he pounces, he’ll just lick that person’s face and neck all over… and maybe get inappropriate?? But he bounces back pretty quickly, after like 2 hours he’ll be completely sober. Keep making him drink!

Azul – he used to dislike the taste of alcohol (and was very self-conscious about it), but now he loves it. As long as it’s good, of course. Unlike Ruggie, Azul can take one sip and tell you everything there is to know about this specific vintage. He is an elitist and hates on a lot of alcohol brands though, even some high-end ones if he doesn’t like the taste. He is absolutely going to have a proper bar once he graduates. If he good with alcohol though? Not really… Azul has stages when he drinks: at first he just gets more talkative, then he gets giggly, then he gets openly aggressive, then he gets very sad. He tries not to drink up to that point…

Jade – another one who prefers to watch people drink rather than to drink himself. He doesn’t get too easily drunk himself, but he gets hiccups sometimes, and it’s embarrassing. He is also extremely good at making cocktails and experiments a lot, making both Azul and Floyd drink his concoctions, and it’s always a gamble whether he’ll make something extraordinary or will make you throw up.

Floyd – he flip-flops. Sometimes he could be that one sour sober face that doesn’t want to drink with everybody, sometimes he randomly drinks a couple of bottles because he wanted to see if it would make him pee harder. He hates the taste of alcohol (any alcohol!), he hates getting headaches and throwing up and feeling like shit in general, he hates not remembering stuff, but he loooves spinning when he is drunk. And causing destruction. He is all over the place when he’s drunk, even more-so than he usually is.

Kalim – he has some experience with alcohol! It’s not like he used to drink all the time when he was a kid, but whenever they had any kind of celebration, his dad would give him one sip of the wine (or any other thing rich friends brought to them that day). So Kalim actually likes wine quite a lot, and was genuinely surprised when he realised that he can’t bring bottles of good wine to NRC to celebrate with Jamil and the other students. All of that doesn’t mean he’s good with alcohol, mind you, because he gets drunk very easily. But it’s like his “kalimness” just enhances, and he gets even more clingy and wants to dance a lot. And also touch and kiss a lot… He is also super lucky and never gets hangovers.

Jamil – now this is someone who always gets hangovers and it always hits him like a truck. In Jamil’s perfect world, if he would have nothing to worry about, if he could just relax for one evening without worrying about doing 1000 things the next day, and if he was in good company (preferably on his own), he would love to have a good drink. But the majority of times he gets drunk it’s because Kalim makes him drink. Or Kalim drinks 5 different kinds of wine, and Jamil has to taste every single one before giving it to him (and also try it from Kalim’s glass every single time because you never know when someone might put something in the bottle). So he just gets gradually more and more drunk… Jamil is surprisingly well-composed even when he is drunk, but he gets hot. Literally and figuratively, he is suddenly more seductive and even horny… but it never ends with anything good.

Vil – he enjoys the taste of good alcohol, sometimes would even have wine mom moments and just pour a glass for himself for no reason, just to unwind. But this is a very rare treat: he is aware that alcohol is bad for your body, so he prefers to drink a smoothie instead. He is a social drinker though, so he would drink sparkling wine on parties. I feel like Vil doesn’t drink too much and is good with alcohol in general, but he does get flirty… and more reckless as well. Wink.

Rook – doesn’t get drunk at all, no matter how much he drinks. It is almost unfair because he doesn’t have to avoid drinking like Trey and Jade do to watch the others get drunk: oh he drinks with them alright, he thinks it’s polite to drink just as much as the other person does. But he doesn’t get drunk miraculously… but if someone would to ask him, he would say that he is very drunk!

Epel – loves alcohol. He is right there with Ace when it comes to the first years that are always excited to drink. He loves to brag about drinking with the men of his village all the time… which is kind of true, but also kind of false: it’s not like he chugs moonshine with them. He is allowed to have apple cider though, so he is actually probably better with alcohol than both Ace and Deuce… he is still bad at it though lol, he gets either clingy or aggressive or aggressively clingy, depending on how much he drinks. His little body punishes him with the biggest hangovers.

Idia – hates it, bad with it, feels like it’s torture. He is one of the most capricious ones because he hates the taste, the smell, the burning feeling, everything, but then again, it’s not like he tried all the options available: he might have actually enjoyed something sweeter or even just whiskey+coke combo (if there isn’t too much whiskey there). His first stage would be to become very talkative and start complaining about everything, having even less filter than usual, but then he would start getting red, breathing heavily, moan quietly and hug his own knees, as if he is in the biggest agony in the world. His hands and legs also start shaking crazily when he is drunk.

Ortho – human!Ortho of course: he is better with alcohol than Idia; in fact, he would be the one to insist that Idia should try different kinds of alcohol just to see if he likes the other ones better. Ortho used to hate booze as well, but as he got a bit older, he got more interested in it, so these days he doesn’t mind a bottle of beer. But he is a social drinker, he never drinks alone. it’s more about hanging out with friends for him. He also doesn’t get super drunk, he is like the opposite of Idia. Maybe he just never drinks too much…

Lilia – this man used to chug gasoline from the car pipe. This man used to shotgun vodka from a glass bottle. This man is a legend and he can outdrink almost everyone in this school. But that doesn’t mean he won’t get drunk because hoo boy will he get drunk. Sometimes he gets as obnoxious as Ace, sometimes he just wants to have fun like Kalim, sometimes he gets aggressive like Floyd… but there is also this secret 4th type of Lilia drunk that is too creepy, hungry and sexual to describe. Also! He used to never get hangovers, but he does now. Getting old sucks.

Silver – it would be funny if Silver was the type of drunk to get energized and more awake, but I feel like he just gets even more sleepy, but also clingy. In terms of stamina, I’d say he’s a 3 out of 5… He doesn’t get drunk immediately, but can’t drink more than two glasses. Also, he was 3 years old when he drank alcohol for the first time, thanks Lilia. Well, it was just a little sip..!

Sebek – he has a big future ahead of him and good potential, but for now he is pretty bad at drinking. He doesn’t like it because the taste is usually too bitter (he’s a baby…), plus, he feels dizzy afterwards. He doesn’t like not being in control of himself, so sometimes he freaks out when he is drunk, but sometimes he just sits there with his head in his hands and tries to concentrate and undrunk himself. When he is drunk he is either aggressive or aggressively horny…

Malleus – it feels like it’s impossible to get him drunk, but in actuality it is possible, it’s just that he has to drink a lot for that. Even if he is very drunk, it’s difficult to tell that he is for anyone other than people who are the closest to him (or someone very perceptive like Rook), but he gets extra playful, pouty and really wants to dance and show off. He is very dangerous when drunk because he can burn down the entire house just for shits and giggles… and if he gets angry while drunk, it’s extra dangerous.

#replies #headcanons

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pascalispimp · 4 months ago

Text

Through the Ashes

Pairing: Joel miller x reader

Summary: In a world ravaged by loss and survival, Joel Miller has long believed that love is a luxury he can no longer afford. Haunted by his past and driven by the need to protect those he cares about, his heart is as guarded as the walls around the small community of Jackson. But when Birdie, a former Firefly with a mysterious connection to Ellie, arrives in Jackson, Joel’s world is turned upside down.

Warnings for series: some angst with happy ending. Mutual pining. Eventual smut. Unspecified age gap. Takes places after TLOU season 1. Not canon to game ending. Joel will get his happy ending. Jealous!Joel. Protective!Joel. Canon typical violence.

Word count: 3k

** Masterlist **

Hi guys, this is my first fic in a very long time so please be kind. I’m posting the first chapter and if you guy’s enjoy it, let me know and I’ll post more. Would love to hear everyone’s thoughts on it!! Character doesn’t have a name but everyone calls her Birdie because of the Mockingbird tattoo on her arm.

Chapter 1- The First Meeting

The snow fell steadily outside the cabin, the wind howling through the gaps in the wooden walls. Joel was in the middle of cleaning his rifle, the rhythmic scrape of the brush against the metal barrel soothing in its familiarity. Jackson was quiet today—too quiet, for Joel’s taste—but then again, it was the dead of winter. The few settlers who ventured out for patrols returned with little to report, just the bitter cold biting at their heels.

A knock at the door broke his concentration, sharp and unexpected. Joel frowned, setting the rifle down carefully on the table. Not many people came to his cabin unannounced, especially in weather like this.

“Who is it?” Joel called out, his voice rough, as he crossed the small room to the door.

“It’s me, Tommy,” came the muffled reply from the other side.

Joel unlocked the door and pulled it open, the cold air rushing in as he did. Tommy stood on the porch, bundled up in his thick coat, but it wasn’t Tommy who drew Joel’s attention. It was the woman standing next to him.

“Joel, I’d like you to meet someone,” Tommy said, stepping aside slightly. “This is” Tommy said, your name escaping his lips. “But I call her Birdie”

Her name struck a chord in Joel’s memory, and he realized why as soon as he looked into her eyes. Those eyes—so familiar, so much like Ellie’s, but older, more weathered by the world.

She stepped forward, pulling the scarf away from her face. Her features were sharp, angular, with a stubborn chin and eyes that had seen too much. Her long hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, a few strands escaping to frame her face. There was something fierce about her, a hardness that reminded Joel of the survivors he’d met on the road, but there was also a sadness that softened her.

Joel repeated her name, his voice carefully neutral.

“She’s Ellie’s aunt,” Tommy said, glancing between them. “Her mom’s younger sister.”

Birdie gave a small, curt nod. “I’ve been looking for her—for years. Since Boston.”

Joel’s mind raced, trying to piece together what he knew of Anna, Ellie’s mother, and what she might have told him about family. But there had been little to go on. Anna had been a Firefly, just like Birdie apparently was—or had been.

“You’re a Firefly,” Joel said, the words coming out like an accusation.

Birdie’s expression tightened, her eyes narrowing slightly. “I was. Not anymore. That was… a long time ago.”

Tommy cleared his throat, sensing the tension between them. “Birdie’s been on the road for a while. Just got back here yesterday, actually after travelling back to Boston”

Joel nodded slowly, though his eyes never left Birdie’s. He could see the exhaustion in her, the weight of whatever she had endured in her search for Ellie. There was a moment of silence, heavy with unspoken questions. Why now? Why here?

“Ellie doesn’t know yet,” Birdie said quietly, as if reading his mind. “I haven’t figured out how to tell her. I needed to see her first… to make sure she’s okay.”

“She’s fine,” Joel said, a bit too quickly, the protective edge in his voice undeniable. “She doesn’t need—”

“I’m not here to take her from you,” Birdie interrupted, her tone sharp, but not unkind. “I’m here because she’s all I have left.”

The words hung in the air between them, and Joel found himself softening, just slightly. He knew what it was like to lose everything, to have only one thing left in the world to hold onto. It was a pain that twisted and festered, driving people to do impossible things.

Tommy shifted uncomfortably, glancing between the two. “Well, I’ll let you two talk. I need to check on Maria. Birdie, your place should be ready for you whenever you’re ready. Hasn’t been touched since you left.”

“Thank you, Tommy,” Birdie said, her eyes flicking to him before returning to Joel. “I appreciate it.”

Tommy gave them both a nod and then stepped off the porch, disappearing into the falling snow, leaving Joel and Birdie alone.

Joel stepped aside, gesturing for her to come in. “You might as well get out of the cold.”

Birdie hesitated for just a moment before stepping inside. The warmth of the cabin hit her, and she could feel the chill starting to seep out of her bones. She unwound the scarf from her neck and shrugged off her coat, hanging it on the rack by the door. As she did, Joel couldn’t help but notice how thin she looked, how worn.

“Sit,” Joel said gruffly, motioning to the chair by the fire. “I’ll get you something warm.”

Birdie moved toward the chair, her eyes taking in the cabin as she did—a small, simple space, but well-kept, with everything in its place. She sat down slowly, the firelight casting flickering shadows across her face.

Joel busied himself with the kettle, filling it with water and setting it over the fire. His hands worked automatically, but his mind was racing. This woman—Ellie’s aunt—what was her angle? What did she want?

“I’m not here to make things difficult,” Birdie said suddenly, as if sensing his doubts. “I know what you did for Ellie. Tommy told me… some of it.”

Joel turned, his expression guarded. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“Maybe not,” Birdie admitted. “But I know enough to be grateful. Ellie’s lucky to have you.”

Joel said nothing, his eyes searching her face for any sign of deception. But all he saw was sincerity, mixed with a weariness that matched his own. She wasn’t here to cause trouble; she was here because she had nowhere else to go.

The kettle began to whistle, and Joel turned back to pour the water into two mugs. He handed one to Birdie, who accepted it with a nod of thanks.

“So,” Joel said, settling into the chair opposite her, “what’s your plan?”

Birdie took a sip of the tea, the warmth spreading through her chest. She looked at him, her gaze steady. “I don’t have one. I just want to be a part of Ellie’s life, if she’ll have me. And if you’ll let me.”

Joel studied her for a long moment, the fire crackling between them. Finally, he nodded, a silent truce forming between them.

“We’ll see,” he said, his voice low. “But know this—if you hurt her, if you bring any trouble here…”

“I won’t,” Birdie cut him off, her voice firm. “I swear it.”

Another silence fell between them, this one less heavy, more accepting. They were two people with jagged pasts, brought together by the same person they loved more than anything in this broken world.

And though neither of them could have known it then, that moment—born of mutual understanding and a shared need for connection—was the first step toward something neither of them had dared to hope for.

Something like love.

—-

The mid-afternoon sun bathed Jackson in a soft, golden light as Ellie stood on the porch of Joel’s cabin, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her jacket. She glanced over at Joel, who was leaning against the wooden railing, his expression unreadable. He had been unusually quiet that day, and Ellie could sense the tension rolling off him in waves. Something was up, and it was putting her on edge.

“So… what’s this all about?” Ellie asked, her voice filled with cautious curiosity. She wasn’t used to Joel acting so cagey, and it made her uneasy.

Joel sighed, pushing himself off the railing and turning to face her. “There’s someone I want you to meet,” he said slowly, his eyes searching hers for a reaction. “Someone from your past.”

Ellie frowned, confused. She had already met everyone in Jackson who might have known her from before. Who could Joel be talking about? But before she could ask, the cabin door creaked open, and a woman stepped out onto the porch.

Ellie’s breath caught in her throat as she took in the sight of the woman standing before her. She was tall, with her hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, and her eyes—her eyes were so familiar. Ellie couldn’t place why at first, but something about them tugged at the edges of her memory.

“Ellie,” Joel said, his voice gentle but firm, “this is Birdie. She’s your mom’s younger sister.”

Ellie’s heart skipped a beat as the realization hit her. *My aunt.* She had never known her mother’s family—Joel had only told her bits and pieces about Anna, but never anything about anyone else. The idea that she had an aunt, someone who had been out there looking for her, was overwhelming.

Birdie took a tentative step forward, her eyes filled with emotion. “Ellie,” she said softly, her voice trembling just slightly. “I’ve been looking for you for so long.”

Ellie stiffened, the mix of emotions swirling inside her too complicated to untangle. Part of her wanted to run, to push this stranger away, to keep her distance as she had learned to do with everyone except Joel. But another part of her—a part she hadn’t let herself feel in a long time—wanted to reach out, to grab hold of this connection to her mother that she had thought she’d lost forever.

“I… I don’t remember you,” Ellie admitted, her voice shaky, her eyes darting to Joel for reassurance.

She smiled sadly, a soft, understanding look in her eyes. “You were just a baby the last time I saw you,” she said. “We were separated in Boston when the Fireflies took you after Anna, after she passed. I tried to find you, but by the time I got back… you were gone.”

Ellie swallowed hard, trying to process the flood of information. She had always wondered about her past, about the people she had lost, but she had never expected this—never expected to have someone from that past suddenly standing in front of her, claiming to have been searching for her all these years.

“I know this is a lot,” Birdie continued, her voice soft and patient. “And I don’t expect you to remember me, but I brought something that might help.”

She reached into the bag slung over her shoulder and pulled out a small, worn photo album. It was old, the edges frayed, but it had clearly been well cared for. Birdie opened it carefully, flipping through the pages until she found what she was looking for. She held it out to Ellie, her hands trembling slightly.

Ellie hesitated for a moment, glancing up at Joel again. He nodded encouragingly, though she could see the tension in his jaw, the way his hands clenched into fists at his sides. It wasn’t like Joel to be so tense around new people—especially not someone he had invited into their lives. But there was something in his eyes that told her this was important, that this was something she needed to do.

Ellie took the album from her, her fingers brushing against the worn leather cover. She looked down at the picture on the page, her breath catching in her throat. It was a photograph of a woman holding a small child—a baby with big, curious eyes and a tuft of dark hair. The woman was smiling, a bright, loving smile, and Ellie felt a pang of recognition deep in her chest.

“That’s you, and me. Not long before you were taken.” She said softly, pointing to the baby in the picture. “And that’s your mom, not long before you were born.”

Ellie’s fingers traced the edges of the photograph, her heart pounding. She had seen pictures of her mother before, but never like this—never with her. There was something so achingly familiar about the woman in the picture, something that made Ellie’s chest tighten with emotion.

“I… I remember this,” Ellie whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I remember you holding me like this.”

Birdie smiled, tears welling up in her eyes. “You were so small, but you were already so strong. Just like your mom.”

Ellie’s throat tightened as she looked at the other photos in the album—pictures of her as a baby, pictures of her mother and Birdie together, smiling and laughing, snapshots of a life she had lost and never thought she’d find again. The memories were faint, like trying to grasp at wisps of smoke, but they were there, and as she looked at each picture, they became clearer, more vivid.

Joel watched them from the side, his heart heavy with conflicting emotions. He was happy for Ellie—truly, he was. Seeing her reconnect with a piece of her past, a piece of her mother, was something he had always wished for her. But at the same time, a pang of jealousy twisted in his gut, mingling with the protectiveness that had always been there, simmering just below the surface.

Birdie was Ellie’s blood, a living connection to her mother, and Joel knew that was something he could never be. He had tried his best to fill the role of father, of protector, but deep down, there was a fear—a fear that now that Ellie had someone else, someone from her past, she might need him less. The thought terrified him more than he could admit.

As Ellie continued to flip through the album, her eyes bright with a mix of wonder and sadness, Joel forced himself to push the jealousy aside, focusing instead on the way her face lit up with each new memory that surfaced. This was a good thing. He had to remind himself of that. She was here for Ellie, and that was what mattered.

“I can’t believe you kept these,” Ellie said, her voice trembling as she looked up at her, tears brimming in her eyes.

Birdie smiled, her own eyes wet. “I kept them for you. I knew that one day, I’d find you, and I wanted you to have something to remember her by.”

Ellie bit her lip, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

Birdie reached out, hesitating for just a moment before gently placing her hand on Ellie’s shoulder. “I’m so glad I found you, Ellie. I’ve missed you so much.”

Ellie looked up at her, the walls she had built around herself slowly crumbling. She could see the truth in her eyes—the love, the longing, the pain of having been separated for so long. It was the same pain Ellie had carried with her for years, the same sense of loss that had haunted her. But now, for the first time, it felt like that loss was being filled, piece by piece.

“I’ve missed you too,” Ellie admitted, her voice small, but filled with a deep, raw honesty. “Even if I didn’t remember, I missed you.”

Birdie’s face broke into a tearful smile, and she pulled Ellie into a gentle hug, holding her close as if she was afraid to let go. Ellie stiffened for a moment, unaccustomed to the sudden show of affection, but then she relaxed into the embrace, allowing herself to feel the warmth of it, the connection she had been missing for so long.

Joel watched them, his chest tight with a mix of emotions. He was happy—so damn happy—to see Ellie finding this connection, but the pang of jealousy was still there, sharp and insistent. He knew it was irrational, knew that Ellie’s love for her didn’t diminish what they had, but it was hard to shake the fear that had taken root in his heart.

Ellie finally pulled back from the hug, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. She looked at Birdie, really looked at her, and for the first time, she saw the family resemblance—saw the way Birdie’s eyes mirrored her own, saw the way her smile reminded her of her mother.

“I want to know more,” Ellie said, her voice steadier now. “About her. About you.”

Birdie smiled, a warm, genuine smile that made Ellie feel like she was finally home. “I’ll tell you everything,” she promised. “Anything you want to know.”

Joel stepped forward, unable to stay on the sidelines any longer. He placed a hand on Ellie’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You two have a lot to catch up on,” he said, trying to keep his voice light, though the tension in his body betrayed him.

Ellie looked up at him, her expression softening. “You’re okay with this, right?” she asked, searching his face.

Joel nodded, forcing a smile. “Of course, kiddo. This is good. It’s what you need.”

Ellie studied him for a moment longer, sensing that something was off, but not quite able to place it. She reached up and covered his hand with hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You’re still my family, Joel. That’s never going to change.”

Joel’s heart swelled at her words, the jealousy easing just a little. He nodded, his throat too tight to speak, and gave her a small, grateful smile.

Birdie watched the exchange, understanding the depth of the bond between Joel and Ellie. She knew that Joel was protective of Ellie, that he had been her rock through everything, and she didn’t want to come between them. But she also knew that this was something Ellie needed, something that would help her heal.

“Joel,” She said gently, “thank you. For everything you’ve done for her. I can see how much she means to you.”

Joel met her gaze, and for a moment, there was an unspoken understanding between them—an acknowledgment of the roles they both played in Ellie’s life. Joel nodded, the tension in his chest easing just a bit more.

“She means everything to me,” Joel said quietly, his voice full of emotion.

Birdie smiled, her eyes soft with gratitude. “And now, she’s got both of us,” she said, her voice filled with hope.

Ellie looked between them, a small, tentative smile tugging at her lips. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she had a real family—one that stretched back to her past and carried her into the future. And as she stood there, between Joel and Birdie, she realized that maybe, just maybe, she could finally start to heal.

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #ellie williams #ellie tlou #pedrohub #pedrostories #joel the last of us #joel x reader #joel miller the last of us #joel miller tlou #the last of us #tlou #javier peña #frankie morales #oscar isaac #tommy miller

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cookie-dough98 · 3 months ago

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I feel like it's been ages since I last posted something here! Hiii

tbh I still love the sims a lot, I just haven't been into it as much as I used to be, at least when it comes to play the game itself, so I might start posting some art here

And I still remember when I started posting "I hate that I love you" years ago and I'm sad that I never finished it :( so I drew this! Hopefully one day I'll remake it into an actual fanfic or something :]

*btw ik these aren't their canon designs, this is how they looked in the last chapter I posted

#ts2 #sims 2 fanart #strangetown #tank/johnny #tank grunt #johnny smith

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babyboywinchester · 6 months ago

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i was finally able to go through nancylou’s post about misha and i’m so literally appalled at what’s he’s done, that’s there. like in what world did he think that sexually harassing jensen was okay?! that man is definitely sick. and i feel bad for jensen because it was definitely the culture of “oh it’s just misha” so people didn’t do anything about it. it’s also his weird obsession with jensen in general that is so off putting to me.

also misha’s acting is just not that great. i get that angels are suppose to be stoic and cold but a tree could act better than what misha has done and a tree doesn’t have chapped lips for me to be distracted by.

his shots at jared/sam are just like so unprofessional. like jared is your co-worker and i get not always liking someone you work with but from what i’ve seen and read, jared seems like a good person to work with in general, so just say your jealous misha 🙄.

i’m sorry, i’m just cackling at cons seemingly being his only source of income because no one wants to hire him, yet he thinks he’s better than jared who’s had steady work with Walker after SPN.

like man needs to find SOMETHING to occupy his time because destiel is never going to happen and he’s just wasting everyone’s time with his non-stop queerbating.

sorry this was also long and kind of a rant. he just gets constantly more annoying and disgusting the more i learn about him.

I’m glad you actually took the time to do that! It really opens your eyes to just how slimy of a human he really is. Once again, never fear about sending a long ask. I like getting asks!

I will say in the beginning I don’t think his acting was all that bad, because like you said Angels are very stoic and still learning how to occupy human bodies… but as the seasons drew on he just became like a… I don’t even know how to describe it, but what’s the point of having a pet angel if he isn’t even that powerful, can barely do anything, and hovers around you with a case of chapped lips so severe YOU have the urge to put chapstick on yourself.

Also his “arcs” if you can even call them that add little, nothing really, to the story so he’s just… there. Supporting characters were only given more screen time so J2 could have more time off anyway so it’s all meant to be filled with him and little to no substance.

Yet he acts like he was some trendsetter or as if he was the one to throw the first brick at Stonewall and all he is is a mediocre, middle aged, white man who panders to a group of maybe 100 people at a time about a fetishized gay ship from a cable show that ended four years ago now… he also is the only man to have to come out as straight. He’s not an “ally” he uses and abuses peoples interpretation of this so called “confession” to keep up his grifting lifestyle.

A heterosexual grifter king of you will. Wow. How could we not stan him?

#Anti Misha #anti Misha collins #anti castiel #spn #supernatural #Anti destiel #destiel doesn’t exist #Destiel isn’t canon

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withered--s0uls · 8 months ago

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OKAY, I think I'm done for now.

@electrozeistyking and I a little while ago talked about how GD!N would react to DAS!Cyn. They went on about in a reblog but basically he would be extremely happy bc DAS!Cyn is a separate entity to the Absolute Solver, therefore meaning she's not the one behind everything.

So at first they probably both would be extremely happy. DAS!Cyn in her own AU upon meeting N first is absolutely terrified that he might hate her after everything the AS made her do. So the fact GD!N would react very positively to her presence would be a huge a relief to her.

Now, the issue is that the "Dormant" in "Dormant" Absolute Solver is in quotations for a reason. It simply lost interest in her as a main host / had no need for her anymore. It still has admin rights over DAS!Cyn and she still has a Solver Form. Though she doesn't use it by choice bc of PTSD triggers (until possibly a specific point in Ep7 but I'm waiting for ep8 to decide).

So yeah I think that would make both GD!N and DAS!Cyn kinda anxious to put it lightly.

(More Art and stuff under cut because this crossover has been living RENT FREE IN MY HEAD)

Also fun fact

@electrozeistyking has mentioned and shown Beanie finding comfort in the sound of her fathers core.

Well funny story.

DAS!Cyn always was comforted by her brothers core back at the manor, when they first reuite at the start of Ep6 and she sees DAS!Uzi summon her Solver wings and tail, her instinct is pressing closer to DAS!Ns chest for comfort. Her memories of the Solver features are very very blurry, but she is triggered by seeing them regardless.

I thought It was cute the girls have that in common, so I decided to draw them and GD!N sleeping with the girls having their heads close to his core :3

OKAY FINALLY WE GET TO THE DOODLE PAGE

I didn't feel like fully making these so they're sketchy doodles :"

The first two are based on Zeisty saying GD!N would probably pick DAS!Cyn up and spin her around. Also you probably noticed between this doodle, the first drawing & the Tiny!N & DAS crossover post, but DAS!Cyn displays flowers on her visor to emote happiness!

The 3rd and 4th are just random interactions between the kiddos lol. I feel like Beanie probably would be happy to have another Auntie, not to mention one closer to her age so they can do silly kid stuff together. DAS!Cyn... oh boy

She would feel a whole range of emotions; grief about missing so much of her brothers life (like he has a kid ffs), guilt and self blame after finding out what happened to Uzi (she blames herself for everything the AS caused, even tho she never agreed to it) which might end up in a "slight" breakdown, anger at the AS for causing GD!N that kind of pain and eventually once she processed all those emotions she probably would be excited to get to know Beanie. Like!! Imagine finding out you have a little Niece!!

She probably would struggle to easily keep up with Beanie bc she still has motor issues like in canonverse so she's a little slower, so it'd be mostly her trying not to fall over her own feet whilst being dragged around by an excited toddler who probably even with child lock is stronger than her lmao.

Also I drew DAS!Cyn in an alternate outfit bc I wanted to actually kinda show the oil reserve canister,,,

Ok wanting to respond to the hashtags specifically bc :)) yay

Also ig this is some DAS lore fact drops lol

Yeah, DAS!Cyn kinda didn't take it well either when she first realized the AS technically can still take over if it really wanted to after she transferred bodies in an attempt to escape. Imagine getting your core nearly crushed in an attempt to flee from robo satan just to find out entity STILL can use you for their bidding. Like!!! Damn that's not fair the kid nearly fucking died trying to break free!!!

DAS!Cyn definitely would want to spare Beanie the horrors too. DAS!Cyn herself is mentally like 7-10/11 at best 6-9 at worst -- despite kids usually just saying whatever comes to mind, she repressed most AS related stuff for a reason, she definitely wouldn't share what she knows with her newfound niece

I feel things would be either super great and happy or super traumatizing depending on when in the timeline we throw DAS!Cyn at them. If she's there during ep 6-7? Oh boy. Oh no. DAS!Cyn & DAS!N have an exchange during Ep7 that would not go over so well if it was GD!N in DAS!Ns place, because it would be awfully similar to GD!Uzis death -- she doesn't die, because DAS!N can't get himself to shoot with her being so close to the AS, despite her literally shouting at him to do it and that she won't be angry, that'll be fine. -- yeah I don't think GD!N would handle that well 😭 Zeisty feel free to get the angst train rolling if you wanna add your two cents on how that'd go over -- any point before that? Probably fine. Post S1? I'd imagine also fine depending on what Ep8 throws at us (except like... look at ideas list for more info*)

I'll assume that'd be Beanie reacting to seeing DAS!Cyn having the Solver tail and possibly the glitching Solver symbol in her visor. Yeah she definitely would try to play it off and go try and hide somewhere until she can get it under control again. High stress or negative emotions causes her Solver to act up (unrelated to the AS, just her own Solver form without the entity controlling anything!!) So what I said above to her reaction to the news of GD!Uzi being dead? And possibly finding out the reason why? Yeah that might trigger her tail and wings to pop out and her to basically be reduced to a hyperventilating ball on the floor because of proceeding to blame herself for all of GD!Ns suffering due to thinking the AS actions & it being a danger are her fault

Other things I kinda wanted to doodle but didn't for now, might do at a later point;

Cyn still has a Solver Core, which is the same as a DD core (except smaller lol). So I was playing with the idea of Beanie noticing that her core sounds different from GD!Ns due to hers being severely damaged and actively leaking after the AS attempted to crush it during the body transfer. DAS!Cyn then trying to play it off

Some kind of acknowledgement of the Oil reserve canister on DAS!Cyns back, it was made by Tessa before the AS did the medurder and stuff. It's supposed to help keep the Solver in check by preventing overheating, hence why its directly connected to her chest where her core is

There was something else but it slipped my mind

Smth I'm not gonna say publicly for now until Zeisty posts something about it and/or eventually posts the chapters bc I don't want to spoil esp not bc it isn't my place to :" (if you're curious, Zeisty, lmk I can tell you in VC or DMs lol) but it partly would possibly be related to the 1st idea listed

* I have an idea for what happens to Cyns original body (the one the AS uses & that wears Tessa) post Ep8 IF Ep8 let's me do it that is. I think it could be fun to crossover that idea bc of GD!Ns ghost sight.... tho it definitely also would be fucking stressful and trauma inducing bc Solver stuff sooo yeah rip (again, if you want I could elaborate in vc or DMs on this bc I want to first wait and see what the season finale brings before I do anything "official" with this)

GD!N reacting to the information that DAS!Cyn canonly shot "Tessas" gun at the AS (well technically at its tentacles. Point being that kid fired a gun/knows how to use one) -- which again could be very interesting if we were to toss them into the same Ep7 bc that's when she does it

Possibly GD!N finding out ab the scars/cracks surrounding DAS!Cyns core bc,,, yeah

Anyways uuuhh heightbsheet bc I'm 99% sure I drew stuff inaccurate

These were actually so fun to draw and think & talk about. I'll post the GD x IC crossover once I'm done with that (yes, yes there is more than what you already saw Zeisty. Not much more but more nonetheless)

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